A Ride on Father's Day

Last weekend I took a ride to deliver a Father's Day card, an excuse to ride 125 miles on a fine Sunday morning, leaving behind Happy Valley as my friend Paul and I took a wandering route to Altoona, Pennsylvania. It's not often the air is this clear or the view this good from Jo Hays Overlook.

On any ride there is always some strange, odd thing to see.  On a bench at the overlook were a series of sunflowers -- like rock cairns along the ocean.

Paul Ruby alternated his photographic efforts between an iPhone and a Nikon D800.  For anyone thinking that a 250cc scooter and a big motorcycle can't ride together, the BMW K1200 GT was a fine companion for the Vespa.

Forty miles south of home sits the Route 22 Diner, our breakfast destination.  A fine place to stop for food before continuing on to Altoona.

I didn't shoot many pictures on this ride.  Sunny days don't fire the photographic engine and it's harder to stop as I would like when riding with someone else.  After delivering the Father's Day card Paul made a stop to inspect a Buick station wagon.  He has an unhealthy attraction to these old yachts but decided he didn't need this one.

And that was it, a fine morning ride under a blue sky.  No photographic distractions, just piloting the scooter along the road, taking in the light and air, letting cares and worries fly away until nothing mattered but the ride.

What a great Father's Day.  Until I got home.  A big plumbing problem.  Thank heaven I had a good ride under my belt...

URAL Day at Kissell Motorsports

Last Saturday the URAL team rolled into State College, Pennsylvania to demonstrate the sidecar life to a group of interested riders gathered at Kissell Motorsports, the central Pennsylvania dealer.

After some basic instruction two rigs were made available to go on a short 15 to 20 minute ride with a leader and follow bike to help make sure nothing unexpected happened.

I like the looks of the URAL and at some point in my life it may have a role.  Just not right now.

Many went out in pairs to try out both possible riding positions.  Others rode alone.  No one brought their dog, the real reason to have a motorcycle with a sidecar in my opinion.

The Vespa seems rather insignificant compared to the much bigger URAL.  But then the URAL can't fly.  Things balance out in the universe.

I've spent some time on a URAL.  If you're interested in my views you can find them in my post titled Becoming a URAL Adventurer.

Empty Morning Ride

For me, the first moments of the day shape the path my mind heads down.  A walk with the dog, a hot shower, and a ride on the Vespa makes puts everything in perspective.  For me at least.

This past Sunday morning I found myself drawn towards the mountains outside of town, up towards the fog and mystery.  Time and responsibility kept the Vespa at a distance; we could only look and imagine what secrets were hidden in the mist.

One of my favorite haunts for dog and foot is undergoing a transformation forced by giant machines.  I can only watch and hope some space remains for more solitary pursuits.  Could be progress pushed me farther afield to find the emptiness I crave.

State College, Pennsylvania is a model of emptiness on Sunday morning.  I'm lucky to have those moments so close to home.  Someday they'll probably exist only under cover of night.  Even that is a fine time for a Vespa...

A Racer at Moto Hang

No, not this guy.  That's Mike with his 2-stroke Yamaha cafe racer.  He's a regular at the Piston and Pints gathering and tells me he's working on another bike though the details escape me at the moment.

Before I go on, if you want high resolution files of these pictures you can download them from my Flickr site.

Every Moto Hang gathering seems to have some new aspect of motorcycling or riding in play from a member riding around the world to custom sidecar builds to this evening when a truck and a racing motorcycle appeared.

Here's where I realized I should have taken notes to at least get some specifics on the motorcycle and rider.  I'm going to take a clumsy stab at both fully expecting to be corrected later by some of the more observant riders.

John Dershimer rolled his Suzuki motorcycle down the diamond plate ramp and gave a short course on some of the ins and outs of riding a motorcycle at high speeds on a race track.

The Vespa among the motorcycle rabble.  John Oppy's Honda project bike (right) was cool.  Love those knobby tires.

Liked those knobbies enough to make a portrait -- just one step away from including myself in a selfie...

Another view of the Vespa twinkling in the sunlight.  It's my blog so I'll post pictures of the scooter until I'm sated.

Someone asked (and I think I failed to answer) if they had to drink beer to be part of the Moto Hang -- here's photographic evidence that you don't.  One out of three has a beer.  I drink bottled water heavily at the get togethers but not beer.  All are welcome.  Even trikes I think.

Meet Ken Hull.  He's the founder of the Moto Hang and related riding and social activities.  He's inviting anyone within riding distance of Boalsburg to join us on the first and third Wednesdays of every month from 5 p.m. until the last rider departs for home.

So mark your calendar and join the group -- motorcycles of all kinds, scooters, hacks.  No one shown up with an electric motorcycle yet.  You can be the first!

Evening Mission

At 5:04 p.m. an alert vibrated the iPhone sitting on my desk warning of a severe lightning storm and calling for the evacuation of two athletic stadiums on Penn State's University Park campus.  For once my decision not to ride because of the weather made sense.  Three hours later the weather cleared and the Vespa was fully engaged in an important mission. The line of fire across the sky signified the importance of the task at hand.

Swift movement at dusk through the central Pennsylvania landscape inspires a heighten sense of risk; Bambi is lurking just beyond the green fringe, waiting to intercept the feckless rider. As missions can push limits it's important to remain attentive, focused, and bring all skills and powers to the task at hand.

Fragrance and fluctuation of air temperature seek to move the mind from the eye to the nose like mythological sirens luring the unsuspecting towards the rocks.  A few words of silent meditation refocuses concentration on the mission at hand, interrupted by the sharp pierce of a mosquitoe's proboscis through my cheek.  On the Vespa goes.

Only minutes left, moving silently across the parking lot, like a special operator in a hostage rescue, hyper-focused, committed, single-minded.  Moment by moment the number of possible decisions shrink until I'm face-to-face with the target.

Mission complete, target secure and enroute to a Friday evening summit.

Life is always an adventure on two wheels.

No Beams of Sunshine Light the Stage, But the Red Light's On

After work, chores and all things responsible, I needed to go for a ride.  Just a short one.  The sky was thick and Kim and I traded theories on whether we were seeing fog, low clouds or rain.  The National Weather Service issued a warning of lightning, high winds and hail with the admonition that people should seek shelter, and still I found myself on the road with the red light on and Crosby, Stills & Nash's "Lady of the Island" playing in my head.  Obsessively -- like my attention to the red light (actually orangish yellow) indicating the end of the fuel supply was at hand.  And like a bad tooth or mouth sore that your tongue just can't stay away from my attention kept returning to the damn red light -- not a good thing to be distracted late in the day when I really should be paying close attention to deer and the weather.

As the weather closed in everything takes on an odd feeling, like something out of a Stephen King novel.  What passes unnoticed in the sunshine takes on a more ominous appearance under a heavy sky.  On some level it makes a ride more exciting.

At the risk of being caught off the road in the rain I explored a few small dirt tracks as the sky lowered and began to sweat moisture onto the visor of my helmet.  One moment the air would be still and the next blowing hard with a promise of something more to come.


Even in murky light the drops of water clinging to practically everything create a dazzling sea of shimmering light.  I could appreciate it when I wasn't watching the fuel light, making mental mileage estimates, wondering how long I had been letting the engine idle.  And the worst part is I knew that fuel was not a problem.  The light comes on at 60 miles which would barely consume a gallon of fuel.  With another 1.2 gallons left I can ride a long way.  But the light was on...

Riding through a construction dump I realized how far the Vespa is from the Kawasaki dirt bike I road as a kid.  Small tires and little suspension travel make dirt riding a physical and mental challenge.  Still, it is fun to run around in the dirt.  Standing on the hilltop with the little flag I saw the first flash in the sky.  Light but no sound so there was no way to determine distance and danger. And the fuel light was still annoyingly occupying space in my head that forced me to the local fuel dump.

Now, hours later, the rain has begun to fall steadily and thunder rumbles in the distance.  I'm glad I didn't waste the clearer hours with the Vespa in the garage...

Unsatisfying Ride

Not every ride on a scooter or motorcycle is a good ride.  Some rides are just too damn short.  As the day drew to a close and the weather was beginning to look ominous I had a sudden desire to go for a ride.  I can never be sure if it's really a ride I'm after or just a chance to see the sky.  Nothing eases pent up mental claustrophobia like standing in a field and watching the race through the sky.  Or standing along the ocean and taking in the vastness of water and air.

So off I rode to the nearest promontory where I could take in a view and do it before the promised rain and thunder showers arrived.  As I write I realize that the forecast was wrong, the radar was wrong, everything was wrong including my reading of the sky that whispered "Get the hell home".  The picture almost look tranquil but the wind was blowing hard on my balding head.  Blew my gloves off the scooter though luckily not the helmet.  

I should know better than to leave my helmet on the seat.

The ride this evening was too short, too rushed to offer any sort of release.  Instead just a small sense of regret that I couldn't stay longer and watch the world grow dark.

Next ride will be different.

A View of the Latest Moto-Hang in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania

If you're interested in the latest pix from Moto-Hang you can find them on my Flickr site.

Spinning Down the Mind, Changing the World with a Vespa

The past few days the mornings began with the Vespa.  If I were patient I could describe the mental transition that takes place when the decision is made to ride to work, or anywhere for that matter.  A slow, insistent unfurling of the mental log jam between my ears starts to melt and give way to a brighter outlook.

I can swear to that.  Rain or shine.

Untwisting the noise allows room for new ideas.  For me those ideas often appear as little visions, like a kid seeing Snoopy in a cloud.  I saw a turtle during a momentary romantic meander with Kim.

She calls them tertels.



The most insidious aspect of allowing a brain to become distorted and disturbed is becoming callous and hardened an a way that prevents recognition of the little gifts right in front of you everyday.

I miss watching sunsets.

 And there are all the little things that spark wonder or a smile.  The soft complexity of the male strobili on pinus strobus.  Or your wife mesmerized by the bark on a tree.

And I can't help but appreciate the mechanical marvel of Bruce Babcock's vintage Royal Enfield at the Boalsburg Moto Hang.

Or the fabriction wonders of Harry Tarzian's hand built sidecar rig based on a BMW K1100 with a front end fashioned from Corvette suspension pieces.  And a lot more ingenious engineering.

Wandering into town, sharing space with a Kawasaki Ninja, and taking in the quiet energy of the State College, Pennsylvania sidewalks on a Thursday evening is almost as relaxing as the ride into town.

Almost.

Home again, home again jiggety-jig.  I didn't buy a fat hog though.  The garden is becoming a jungle though thankfully one without a bear this week.  A fragrance of skunk has filled the night a few times and I hope the dog is smart enough to give one a wide berth.  Skunks don't look like tennis balls after all.

So, as I ready myself to consume pizza and put my feet up for the day I am happy once again to be reminded that a little journey on two wheels can change the world.