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.

Educating Drivers and Riders

Reading the local news this morning I learned not all scooter riding is an exercise in quiet, gentle travel through the world.  Scooter horn angers driver in State College did give me a chuckle at first but it shortly turned into a sad commentary on the growing trend of anger on the pavement.

Most of my riding is designed to keep me away from heavy traffic where tempers may simmer.  And like a lot of riders I am decidedly passive, docile, and unassuming.  Yell at me, flip me off, cut me off, blow your horn, toss a Coke, and I'll appear to be unaware of the world.  Riding  past a car with a texting driver, eating a cheeseburger and adjusting their hair and I'll do nothing more than move away from them.  I don't engage in pointless rants about danger and I certainly don't endeavor to "educate" them on their failure to live up to the requirements of the road.  That kind of direct contact is fraught with more danger than the behavior in question.  One never knows who you are going to encounter in another vehicle, their state of mind, or what weapons might be on hand.

Anger is natural and you can't really control those emotions but one certainly controls what actions they take in response.  The guy in the story didn't make a good choice.

This evening I had to ride back to work to pick up a few things I needed to work on.  Without a Vespa in the garage I would have been grumbling the whole way back and home again.  But as an opportunity to take a little ride, well, you know the story of how therapeutic a ride down a lightly trodden path can be.

And I suppose it's that grumbling frustration that causes the angry responses we get to read about or see on YouTube.  I always figured if I got out of my car to read someone the riot act they would have a Trunk Monkey.



Ah, the Trunk Monkey...

Errands and Chores by Vespa

Not every ride's focused on fun.  Sometime there's work to be done, things to accomplish.  All of it goes better when I can use the Vespa.  On the road this evening I realized for the first time how long the days had become.  In less than a month the days will start getting shorter as we head towards winter.  Odd thinking about that in May -- the sort of thing that pops into my head when I stop to make a selfie.

Looking at clouds continues to thrill me after nearly sixty years of gazing upwards.  I see Junior sleeping on my lap.  Wonder what I would see if I were riding a Harley instead of a Vespa?


A stop at the store was the main reason I was on the road.  Taking the long way home was just a fortunate coincidence.


Some routes are still closed and probably always will be but check them I do.  Never know when a bureaucrat will have a change of heart.  Could have easily ridden around the end of the gate and raced on through but that would be wrong wouldn't it?


Still loving the Vespa.  Put a gun to my head and insist I confess to my deepest, darkest moto desire --- a Vespa GTS.  Someday it might change but for now I remain smitten...

Roads like these remind me of younger days and dirt bikes.  Every kid wanted a mini-bike or go-kart and couldn't wait to get a driver's license.  Don't see much of that anymore.  Now they're craving Grand Theft Auto and Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2.  Having spent more than a few hours with Unreal Tournament I can kind of see the attraction.

I guess.  Still, I'll take the Vespa and a dirt road.

All good errands must come to an end.  Heading towards Mount Nittany and on towards home always has a melancholy feel at the end of the day.  Maybe that's part of the lure of riding, all those emotions and memories stirred up and making you feel alive for a moment.

Or maybe it's something else...

The Night Visitor

Memorial Day is drawing to a close and I have no riding or Vespa pictures worth sharing.  Aside from my own creative failure I point to a lack of sleep due to a night visitor who kept Kim and I up far longer than anticipated.  After watching a movie until almost 3am we were later awaken by a clatter in the front of the house.  As I threw up the sash instead of finding jolly old Saint Nick I was face to face with a black bear dining on one of our bird feeders.  By the time the local constabulary pushed him down the hill towards the woods I could see the faint glow of dawn.  A few more hours sleep and Junior wanted his turn.

So I'm tired and not particularly thrilled at the prospect of returning to work tomorrow.  Holidays make me think about retirement.

If you do need some riding fix, check out Poppawheelie's ride up the Grossglockner Pass road.
Riding in the Alps....

Ride Around the World

Meet Robert Echard, a regular at the Piston and Pints festivities, serious rider, PoppaWheelie on AdventureRider.com, and now on his way around the world on a motorcycle.  He departed from London a few days ago and about 200 days from now will be riding back into town.  At age 67 it's a trip of a lifetime.

After three days of riding Robert arrived in Budapest, Hungary today and has a few days to hang out before heading east.  You can follow his trip on AdventureRider on the thread Round the World the Easy Way.

He's also using a SpotTracker to follow him around the globe.

The local online newspaper has a good story about the trip -- Adventure of a Lifetime.

This past Thursday evening the Piston and Pints gang go together and Ken Hull suggested a group photo toasting Robert on his journey.  From all of us, a safe, exceptional adventure!

Crappy Weather; No Piston & Pints

After a day of non-stop meetings I was looking forward to meeting with the Piston & Pints group only to have the dream dashed by crappy weather.  Instead of 30 or 40 motorcycles I was greeted by a closed door.  Crappy weather; no such thing for Vespa riders...

The event moved to tomorrow evening, 5pm, as long as the weather isn't crappy.  So if you're within riding distance think about a ride to Boalsburg, Pennsylvania to join the rider festivities.

Ken Hull developed another great poster for the group.  I have one at home.  I want it in the garage with the scooter.  Kim says it's too nice for that stinking place.

Just look for the little barn along the alley with all the motorcycles.  This is what it looks like when the weather is crappy.

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...

The Big Picture

Embracing the big picture, visually and mentally.  Looking out over the Nittany Valley, home for the past 40 plus years, it's easy to let the mind wander, imagine, and plan.  I always think I know what the picture is.  Experience proves otherwise.



On the way to work, wet morning, early enough to stop and look.  I never plan to stop, it just happens on the way to somewhere.  The new tires are worn in and fine on the damp pavement.  For a few moments, taking in the view, it's as if there are no cares or concerns, just breathing and living.

Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu said, "“A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.” It's taken years to understand what that means and even longer to become, if not a good traveler, at least a half-assed one.  I have a love-hate relationship with plans; I love making them and hate abandoning them.  Riding has helped illuminate the value of unexpected paths and detours, roads and routes outside the plan.  Still, I make plans both large and small.

A few evenings ago while wandering through the grocery store I was building plans for a quiet evening dashed by a broken waterline in the basement.  Not so many years ago this unexpected change of plans would leave a sour, bitter, angry taste in my mouth.  Remarkably I've found some satisfaction in embracing the unexpected.  So an evening of work with flux and solder, mop and broom, delivered an experience I would neither anticipate or choose.

In the flood in the basement reached a collection of journals, written evidence of my existence all neatly stacked, stored and soaked.  The road this evening called for methodical, careful work to retrieve these books, drying what I could, turning pages, inspecting the faded, bleeding ink.  And here and there reading of life from five, ten and twenty years earlier.  Standing in the basement I had a glimpse of the big picture that I call my life, all thanks to an abandoned plan.


A tiger was drenched in the flood, a Moon Tiger, icon of the Moon Senior High school's Flame yearbook from 1972.  Paging through history it was hard to fathom how quickly the years have passed, and wondering what's become of all those people.

Earlier in the evening I was surveying the valley, gazing at the big picture of Boalsburg, State College, and the Nittany Valley.  I've always been attracted to high places, overlooks, promontories, places to take in the world, wander, and think.


Junior and I share the experience though for decidedly different reasons.  The plan often changes during our walks, or at least my plan.  Can't really speak to his though I have my suspicions.  I want to walk, throw the ball, and just spend some time with my thoughts.  And keep Junior out of the ponds so neither Kim or I have to endure the fragrance of wet dog.  And more times than not my plan changes when Junior decides to head off for a swim.

He's just missing the big picture.

Taking in Spring on a Vespa

A warm morning provided a perfect backdrop to begin roughing the pristine surface of the Vespa's new Kenda K413 tires.  Never an aggressive rider myself I feel it prudent to go easy on cornering and braking for the first 50 to 100 miles to make sure I don't have any unfortunate relationships with the ground.  The tire pictured above has less than one mile of wear.  Not a problem normally considering how I ride (three speeds; slow, slower, stop) but there are times when I circumstance dictates a friskier approach and broken in tires really become important.

So off I went.

Many riders would probably find my pace and routes boring.  Passing through the agricultural landscapes I couldn't help but think how different riding styles are.  Not long ago I saw the moto-documentary "Why We Ride" and how bored I was getting with the racing sequences.  Racing, speed, and power are important and exciting to lots of riders.  And a good bit of attention was focused on the social aspects of riding (or not riding) characterized by clubs, group rides, and events both small and large.  Looking at the scenes from Daytona Beach and Sturgis I could see the attraction as a kind of carnival but the riding part was a bit more difficult to comprehend.  The film focused only briefly on another kind of riding, one I find myself more attracted to, that focused on being in the world on two wheels, alone, no schedule or destination, just moving through space and time. It doesn't make for good cinema since most of the thrill occurs between your ears.

I'm wandering now.

So I'm riding alone, thinking about tires, taking in the spring air (an pollen) and enjoying having nowhere to go or be, stopping when I please to root through roadside debris for treasure or just appreciate the Podophyllum peltatum (May Apples for URAL riders), little biological umbrellas gracing the landscape that are sure signs of spring.

Dandelions are in full bloom and add a swath of color to the world that would make me grin save for the guilt I feel from childhood as my father conscripted me into manual destruction of thousands of these little creatures, wandering the lawn every Saturday morning with weed tool and bucket, a youthful endeavor displaced by the advent of ChemLawn and video games.

I learned something about my childhood yesterday related to my parents letting me roam the neighborhood on weekends and summer vacation.  Today their parenting style would be referred to as "free range parenting".  I must be the mature incarnation of a free range child...

The Vespa runs flawlessly.  Hate typing that for fear it will cause some untimely failure, but it really is running great.  Smooth, quiet, powerful, just like it was when I bought it.  Parked along Spring Creek with the sun in my eyes I could almost pretend it was physically pristine as well.  Alas, it does show some wear and tear on the body.  Just like a well used camera or hand tool.

The road never ends but rides always do.  This one after only 50 miles of tire scrubbing but with the promise of food, family and the chance to rub a dog's belly.  Maybe later I'll work on those tires some more...

Slippery Scooter Tires

Vespa is back on the road.  Muffler resurrected, winter tires in storage, battery rejuvenated, and a brand new pair of Kenda tires mounted for warm weather.  As all riders should know there is nothing quite as useless in terms of traction as a new pair of tires.  Combine that with wet roads and it's just a slippery mess.

Breaking the tires in will wait for dry pavement.  Instead just a quick trip down the street to the Pump Station to pick up a brownie.

That's scooter riding adventure.

Dirty, Dusty, Crappy Work

The Vespa is perched in the garage sans front tire.  Hope the motorcycle jack doesn't fail.  Cleaned, balanced and mounted the rear wheel and tomorrow will retrieve the front from the service station.

Spent an hour troubleshooting the non-locking seat latch.  The latch appears to function properly but a tiny little spring that pulls the latch closed when the seat is down may have lost its ability to do its job.  Or the cable it has to pull has started to hang up somewhere.  Either way the repair is tedious. It may have to wait for a new part.

Tomorrow I'll clean up the muffler and start applying high temperature enamel.  It will look good from the road.

Have a few days vacation ahead so I can approach these mechanical activities with the proper sense of nefarious laziness.  At some point tomorrow morning I'll be at Kissell Motorsports buying a new battery.

The garage is a mess, almost something that location scouts from Hoarders might be interested in.  When I think of organizational strategies fire and theft always seem to be at the top of the list.  Fortunately the warm weather motivates and bit of action and I anticipate more organization and function in the workspace.

I just wish this stuff was finished and tomorrow was a prelude to a ride.