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...

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.

Traveling on Through Life

Standing along a winding road, the fragrance of honeysuckle and Lily of the Valley drifting through the trees, I'm uncertain whether I'd be happier walking, just leave the Vespa and make off through the woods.  Memories of a million footsteps through fields and forests flood into view, a gift of consciousness that I too often take for granted.  Alone, relaxed and for a few moments at peace with myself and the world, life passes slowly and for a moment time almost stands still.  I don't want to miss a moment and think about something Benjamin Franklin said, "Lost time is never found again."

Riding has a marvelous capacity to create experience through the way it hurls a rider naked through the world.  Every sense can be ignited and a push on the handlebar or a turn of the throttle can sweep you into a different place.  Departing the beaten path, a decision fueled by a passing association with the agricultural landowner led the Vespa through grassy tracks and attention to scooter wheel eating groundhog holes.

In the scooter's dream, the road goes on forever...

The statement is homage to poet Susan Mitchell's work, "The Road" in which she writes "In the car's dream the road goes on forever."  The first time I heard that line, lovingly whispered to me by my wife, I felt a shiver of excitement run through me.  Little did I know I would live it over and over again on the scooter as I travel on through life.

In the heart of central Pennsylvania the roads do seem to go on forever, a dream for anyone just needing to ride quiet.

Someone asked me recently when I was going to move up to a motorcycle.  It puzzles me what moving up means though I've long ago realized it's not a conversation for polite company and instead respond with, "Oh, I don't know...."

The Vespa GTS250ie still exceeds my expectations for performance and I long ago fell in love with the way it looks.

Rain threatened a few times during the ride, something I prefer not do deal with when I'm traversing grass ways and dirt paths.  This picture suggests an innate ability to ignore present danger and dawdle with a camera as the weather sweeps across the sky.  Luckily only a few big drops slapped across myself and the scooter.

Somewhere near the southern end of Centre County, Pennsylvania I found myself walking further and further from the scooter, savoring each footstep and breath.  My wife turned me on to Verbascum thapsus, the long stemmed plants in the picture.  Weeds to many I've now come to enjoy them and am happy to see a half dozen or so have volunteered to grow in our own woodland landscape.  This picture is for you Kim.  Thank you.

The scooter is small and I'm not in the picture.  That has to mean something right?

Just one more ride and I'll find the answer...

Why We Ride -- The Movie

In a few weeks a documentary film described by the Los Angeles Times as "...an unabashed love letter to all things motorcycle..." will be coming to the State Theater in State College, Pennsylvania.

WHY WE RIDE - The Official Theatrical Trailer from WHY WE RIDE FILM on Vimeo.

Why We Ride will be screened on March 30, 2014 at 3pm.  The showing has been confirmed and tickets are available online for $8.00 each.  For riders in central Pennsylvania and those who wonder about riding this is something you'll want to see.

My scooter riding daughter and I have our tickets!  Wonder how many will be riding to the show?

Riding or Obsession?

Sitting at home late this afternoon reading a book when I suddenly noticed the fading light, warmly orange streaking across the hilltops and clouds.  Dropping everything, I grabbed my camera and raced to the garage.

I like to think that I love to ride but it clearly isn't that simple.  And I've been a working photographer my entire adult life though I let countless things derail a wide range of photographic opportunities and projects.  I want to make simple assessments of my life and actions but it just isn't so simple.

Riding the Vespa and making photographs are clearly linked in some unholy manner.  More than one person has referenced my obsessive placement of the scooter in pictures and I confess to a powerful draw to do so.  As I stood in front of Mount Nittany in the fading light I forced myself to make a photograph without the Vespa.

The race was on as I forged ahead in the cold as the indicator flashed 27F on the instrument cluster.  I usually am careful to be warm before departure but this time I neglected to do so and could feel my feet getting cold after five miles.  Not a good thing for someone who suffers from Chilblains, a condition where the capillaries in my feet are easily damaged by cold and can lead to some nasty blistering.

Just one of a few medical conditions foisted on my by bad genetics and age.  But the recognition wasn't enough to turn me towards the warmth of home and instead I kept riding, searching for some image or experience.  On rides like this I really do wonder about my obsessive traits.  They may account for some of my ability to focus doggedly on projects, at least those that capture my interest.  Things like painting walls or mowing lawns, they don't attract any of my obsessive powers.

Riding on two wheels has some advantages -- in this case being able to navigate around locked gates and other barriers to four wheeled vehicles.

By the time I rode through State College, Pennsylvania I was ready to head home.  The cold had won out over other obsessive/creative desires.  For a moment I considered stopping at Starbucks for tea and some sort of sugar delivery system but decided to ride home where I could wrap my feet tightly in warm blankets.  Good thing too since my feet were almost on fire in a decidedly cold way when I arrived.

Preparations for First Night are underway with an assortment of ice sculptors practicing their craft.  The weather will be more cooperative this year with a bit of cold to keep the ice in good shape for a few days.

So I'm left wondering if I'm driven by a passion to make photographs, and strong desire to ride, or if some other psychological mechanism is at work.  Many riders tell me they enjoy riding, it's fun and exciting.  This ride wasn't fun by any definition I use and I don't think I derived any enjoyment.  I can say the same thing about photography -- it's neither a hobby or an activity to have fun.  In riding and photography I'm driven by something else.  It's work, at times a burden, but I need to do it.

Something to think about as the year comes to a close...

Change the Time, Change the Tires, Just Change...

The clock changed this morning with the departure of Daylight Savings Time meaning an extra hour of sleep and it wasn't dark when I got up. With more and more mornings showing the temperature in the 30s -- Fahrenheit -- a change of tires isn't far off now.  Mounting the Heidenau K66 LT Snow Tex tires offers a lot more cold weather performance on the Vespa.

Love seeing the sun rake across Mount Nittany.  After seeing it for over 40 years it's still magical.

On the ride to work I was thinking about a lot of changes -- moving Scooter in the Sticks from Blogger to Wordpress, dropping the Google ads, writing more often, writing less often, improving my diet, exercising more, blah, blah, blah...

It's not even New Year's Day yet.

Surprised to see the big Honda Shadow on such a cold morning.  A couple hours later every space was full of bikes and aside from my Vespa not a scooter in sight.  But all that will change when freezing temperatures arrive in force.  Not sure I can even stomach the idea of riding in the cold as I type this.  Hot tea will chase away the weakness...

Nothing much changed today.  One more picture of Saint's Cafe from across the street.  I wonder if I'm considered a regular yet?  Haven't received any kind of Gold Card or special access.  The people know me by sight if not name.  A few know about the Vespa.

So I sit in the corner and write in a journal, listing all the things I should change.  The list is ponderous but that's in the morning.  At night, as a date with a warm bed nears, who cares about change.

There's tea and a brownie with my name on it downstairs.  Kim is searching for something for us to watch on Netflix.  Or Amazon.

No reason to change anything right now...

Latin Lessons, Breakfast and Other Riding Pleasures

If I had a quarter for every time I was asked "Can a scooter ride with a motorcycle?"...

The answer is simple — yes, and no.

On this morning last week my Vespa was an acceptable riding companion to Paul Ruby's BMW K1200GT despite the gap in size and power.  In this case the riding styles of the riders matched making the machines incidental to the ride.  No freeway tricks or backroad racing involved, just a leisurely 38 mile tour through the woods on the way to breakfast.

Paul dispatched some trash from the road which offended his view in the pristine landscape.  I can't remember ever seeing a rider police litter during a ride, myself included.  Only took a few minutes to gather, stow in the sidecase, and return to the ride.

Positive Karma points involved.

The woodlands and waterways in Black Moshannon State Park are more like the arboreal forests of Maine than the typical Pennsylvania ones.  The last flowers are blooming on the lilypads before everything recedes into fall and then the cold of winter.

Speaking of motorcycles and scooters mixing -- there's a reason why the BMW isn't in this picture.  Fine, soft gravel provides uncertain footing for the big bike where the scooter, while no dirt bike, is easier to flog without fear of dumping.

My wife is the naturalist in the house, by temperament, training and love.  I know this plant as Doll's Eyes.  She does too but consistently shocks me with her encyclopedic knowledge of scientific names (in Latin) of plants as Actaea Alba flows from her lips. I tell myself I'm smart in other ways.

On rides like this I wish she had a Vespa and we could ride together...

Ruby and I arrive at the Retro Eatery in Philipsburg, Pennsylvania for breakfast — hungry. It's a great place to eat and not what I would expect to find in P Burg.  If you're out that way it's worth a visit.

Paul always investigates the menu and engages in a range of culinary evaluations.  Regardless of where we are though the end result is the same: waffles and bacon.

I've never questioned the choice.  Some things are private.

After breakfast we made a quick stop at my entrepreneurial enterprise that promises to make my retirement years profitable and comfortable.  I see new socks and underwear in my future.

We took the long way home — a 50 mile trek across the edge of the Allegheny Plateau until we descended into Bald Eagle Valley and the beginning of the ridge and valley section of Pennsylvania.  The abrupt changes in natural and geologic landscapes are a pleasure to experience and with the tutelage of my loving wife I see a lot more than I used to.

Just not in Latin.

Have Fog, Will Ride

Another morning greeted by fog which, for me, is near the pinnacle of riding environments. While not the most dramatic fog day it was still enough to push me on a more circuitous route to work.

Most riding textbooks I've read counsel riders to leave the bike at home when it's foggy with similar advice for night, rain, snow and other visibility limited situations.  Those situations definitely have heightened risk but can be managed with training, preparation and a riding mind attuned to the dangers.

Acquiring those skills is the challenge.

Reading about a crash on ModernVespa.com two comments stood out that shine a light on the possible outcomes of learning to ride in less than ideal conditions.

"...congrats on the healthy crash. crashing safely is the best thing you can do to become a better rider..."

and

"Wish it wasn't so, but experience really is the best teacher. Glad she is ok."

The comments relate to a new rider making a mistake on a wet road.  Easy to do especially if you think riding on wet roads is pretty much the same as dry ones.  You can get away with that thinking in a car but on two wheels not so much.

Anyways, I've been thinking about how differently I ride in different conditions including fog.  And try to keep the risk fresh.  Two of the most anxiety provoking rides I've ever made were in fog.

The ride to work today was uneventful — at least I can't remember anything happening of note.  Just a relaxed ride through the countryside slowly giving way to autumn.  Before long we'll be seeing snow flakes in the air...

The Torture of 25 Miles Per Hour

The hand painted sign appeals to drivers and riders alike to slow down.  Traveling slowly may be the most difficult riding skill of all.

I pass this way frequently and admit how inviting the winding road can be to push the Vespa to soar through the curves like a bird in flight.  The bigger challenge is to resist that urge, make a choice to travel at a speed almost foreign to mind and senses.  It can be painful at times, like struggling for air, being restrained from what's good and natural in the world.

The romance of power and speed mixed with self importance and rationalization propels vehicles at speeds far beyond posted limits.  Rush, rush, and rush some more.  And grumble about the idiots who post roads far below their potential interrupting needs to get to a destination.  Traveling slowly isn't an option.  Or so it seems.

Riding at 25 mph can be torture and almost unbearable.  I've seen drivers so agitated that they can't go faster that I imagine their heads exploding as I seem them wildly gesticulating and mouthing words of encouragement to those impeding their progress.

There are real benefits to slowing down. Reducing speed in almost every roadway environment provides extra time to evaluate hazards, choices and make decisions. All easily put aside for another day when the highest and best skill is often reflected against speed.

Whenever I talk to riders of big machines the almost universal response when asked about what part of riding makes them nervous the most common response is slow speed maneuvering.  If the bike is going down that's where it's likely going to happen.

There is something peaceful about going slow.  It's not always possible where heavy traffic forces the pace but I see riders and drivers race over roads like these where speed is a choice.

Going fast can be fun.  So can going slow.  And the latter is far more difficult because it requires commitment and willpower — even on a Vespa.

Speaking of slowing down on the road....

This morning I was traveling with the traffic flow when I saw a Ring-necked pheasant clip the top of an oncoming car's windshield and tumble onto the road in the middle of an intersection.  The traffic light was red and I knew I had a few seconds to create a barrier in front of the bird.  It was alive but stunned, likely dispatched by a passing car in next few moments.  Leaving the Vespa on the center stand I motioned for traffic to stop as I approached the bird.  For a moment everything stopped.

The bird came to life and raced towards a cornfield on the other side of the road before I could reach it, narrowly missing an oncoming minivan moving slowly through the intersection.  I've seen this sudden change before as traffic halts to let a family of ducks cross the road.  Or a dog.  YouTube has a series of video clips from Russian highways of drivers stopping to rescue dogs, help elderly people cross busy roads, or pick up dangerous debris that might cause disaster.  Little gifts of slowing down.

A few smiles and beeps of horns acknowledging the event and we were all on our way again.  And I was glad I slowed down...

Radar, Riding and the Tasmanian Devil

Radar.  The kind that forecasts weather instead of nabbing speeders along the freeway.  After a long day and a comment by Kim that the light "was interesting" I was watching a radar animation on my iPhone estimating my chances of dodging rain and lightning.  A few moments later I was on the Vespa chasing the fading sun.

There's a method to this madness beyond seeing the sunset, making a few photos, or riding the Vespa.  It's connected to the Tasmanian Devil — the one always chasing Bugs Bunny in the old Warner Brothers Looney Tunes cartoons.  To most people I appear calm, even tempered, and a few times I've hear"zen like" whatever that means. Inside it's often a different picture with my thoughts, imagination, joys, sorrows, frustrations and more swirl like the cartoon devil, spinning madly with snarls and growls.

So it often is after a long day of burning mental energy the right medicine is to burn some more in sharply focused manner.  If I was built differently meditation would work but I can't bring myself (yet) to sit still.  Riding coupled with chasing an image is perfect.  The riding forces me to stay focused to remain safe and the visual puzzle related to finding a picture flavors the experience into a creative craving.  Or so it seems as I write this now.

I was 15 minutes too slow getting on the road.  The sun was gone and the dregs of light just weren't right.  Still, the ride served it's purpose and the devil went to sleep.  The rain from an hour earlier pushed much of the heat away and left the world moist, thick with possibilities, but remained elusive.  The Vespa rolled over pavement and gravel searching, seeking, looking for the answer to the photographic puzzle in my head.

Never found the answer.  And that's ok because, as has been said so many times in so many places, it's the journey that matters.  And on this journey I was able to acquire two Hershey bars for a plan to be hatched later in the evening.

And now the devil and my dog Junior are asleep.  A few small chores will transform the day into night and my mind into a quiet stream.  A stream familiar because of a scooter and camera.

I feel like riding some more but that would just be selfish...

Family, Friends and a Ride to the IngleBean Coffee House

Not just another Saturday morning in central Pennsylvania.  This one was one of those magnificent days where the atmosphere is free of haze that postcard photographers love.  Add a constantly changing variety of blue sky and wispy clouds and it feels like you're in a Disney World commercial.

With the temperature at 48F, Aleta, Paul and I pointed our scooters towards Millheim, Pennsylvania and the IngleBean Coffee House for breakfast.  A fine, lazy ride through some of the most picturesque agricultural landscapes in Pennsylvania — a real ride through time as a result of the growing Amish communities here.  

Seeing horse-drawn buggies is a common scene with road apples everywhere and the telltale lines on the road sketched by hundreds of thin steel wheels.  During the ride we passed a number of them.  I noticed one Amish farm is a solar array on the roof.  Wonder what that powers...

We were lucky enough to get a parking space right in front of the coffee house.  Notice the parking pattern -- Paul and I represent the older generation parking head out.  Aleta does the head in parking.  Evidence of an intergenerational ride.

The IngleBean Coffee House is a relaxed, comfortable, feels like home kind of place with good food.  Definitely worth the half hour ride.  The place has a rustic, LL Bean feel to it and is the sort of establishment you would expect to find friends (which we did when we first arrived).  Paul and Aleta seemed to be at home.

Paul Ruby, BMW, Ducati, vintage Vespa, and on this day Piaggio Fly rider.  I think he's sucking in his stomach...

Aleta puts up with one more picture with the local mural on the side of the Elk Creek Cafe. Another fine place to eat.

We wandered across the street to the Green Drake Art Gallery where I bought a small clay tile for Kim.  On the way back I had the chance to catch another Amish rider...

As fast as the morning develops it draws to a close.  Departing Millheim we wandered a bit until Paul and Aleta decided to head to the Nittany Valley Antique Machinery Show and Flea Market while I chose to head home.  Riding with family and friends is great but there are moments that I like to keep to myself -- the little walks along the road looking for a vantage point, burning memories into my synaptic pathways, being grateful that I'm alive and on the earth.

Riding through the middle of the valley on the small roads, the ones the Amish use, and just thinking how fortunate I am to be here.

Another little ride stored away, percolating, mixing into the Vespa experience.

Riding and the Coming of Cold Weather

Last night the long shadows paralleling US322 told me that fall is on it's way.  That and thermometer readings dropping through the sixties, into the fifties, and this morning a bracing 42F when I rolled the Vespa out of the garage.

Cold weather excites the rider in me, fueling a desire to ride that mostly lies dormant during the heat of summer.  Cold, rain, snow, fog and other physically challenging forms of weather are my mountain -- the manner in which I find satisfaction.

The coming of fall has a peculiar look and sound — a long, heavy light as if the sun isn't quite ready to move across the equator for the autumnal equinox.  Cicadas drone more loudly until they suddenly stop.  Every living thing seems to respond to a biological imperative to brace for winter. Mount Nittany, the icon familiar to Penn State students and alumni around the world, is ready for the world to change.

Even my dog Junior seems aware of the change.  Tinkering with a new iPhone photo app – Alt Photo — I stumbled upon a blue tint that combined with his serious gaze to have me thinking that, like me, he senses the coming of cold weather.

As motorcycle and scooter riders I think we all bring our own, unique reactions to the road.  For some, the passing of Labor Day is the first step in winterization of the machine.  For others a reminder of the few weeks left until the ride becomes unbearably cold.  And for the coldblooded, foolhardy lot who swears they ride through the winter it means the start of an adventure.

To each their own.  I've already started organizing my winter riding gear.  The Heidenau snow tires are ready to mount.  I hate to say it but I've been running snow scenarios through my head.

And all because of a few long shadows along the road...