Scooter in the Sticks

Giving Thanks

2009-11-26T09:20:00.000-05:00

If "thank you" is the only prayer you say, that will be enough.--Meister Eckhart

With Junior sleeping at my feet, the house quiet and no requirement to go to work today it’s easy to recall all the things I have to be thankful for. On those days not dedicated to giving thanks I find similar quiet moments while riding – small escapes from the chaos and noise that can fill the days when chasing chores and job and the responsibilities of living.

Riding the Vespa on winding roads past small, tree lined streams provides an opening to stop and release mental burdens and grasp the simple elegance of sight, sound and smell. I am often reminded of how fortunate I am to have what I have and do what I do.

These past weeks circumstance has kept me from riding as much as I would have liked. Writing, photography and riding have been supplanted with dog walks and training, new responsibilities at work, and a shrinking of daylight has led to fewer opportunities to ride forth into the landscape. When I finally did have a chance to take the Vespa for a ride I found myself stopping often and just standing along the road, taking in the world and saying to myself, “thank you”.

After years of dabbling in various forms of meditation and escape I would not have believed a scooter would be able to open the doors of perception that my Vespa has accomplished. In the most stressful and complicated moments it remains a powerful antidote and requires only moments to straighten out my head. Riding is a gift. The Vespa is the delivery vehicle.

I’ve been able to ride to work for most of the past week. Small detours in the commuting route seem inevitable, something I never do in the truck. Whatever I surrender in terms of creature comfort on the Vespa is repaid tenfold in other ways. I never find myself walking into my office saying “I wish I had driven the truck today”. Not even on the coldest days.

I live miles away to the right of the picture. I work miles away to the left. Standing in the open I can see how my life unfolds in a back and forth manner, commuting to and from home to work and back again. I’m not sure why but it is important for me to see this. It is invisible in the truck. There are only filtered views from the cage.

To all of you today -- I hope you find the time to consider your own reasons to give thanks.

No More iPhone Pictures

2009-11-15T09:32:00.001-05:00

My daughter Hannah says my iPhone pix are not so good. I'm not ready to abandon it yet.

Gordon patiently modeled for yet another camera picture.

I am working on a real post with real pictures for all the purists...

-- Posted from my iPhone

iPhone Vespa: 3 Prints Project

2009-11-08T08:36:00.001-05:00

I have a lot of film to process. Chemicals in the darkroom have gone bad and need to be remixed. But still I make sluggish progress. The Vespa makes it to Saint's Cafe on another crisp Sunday morning to bemoan my indolence with Gordon.

Magic tea with my everything bagel surely will re-energize my creative world.

Shooting with the iPhone is a bit liberating---I don't care about much photographically with it. It's like being a kid again. A kid with a Vespa...

-- Posted from my iPhone

The Cold, Damp Ride to Work

2009-11-05T18:22:00.001-05:00

Waiting in line at a traffic light behind a big yellow school bus.

Out came the phone to record this moment and acknowledge the approach of shorter days and descending temperatures.

Riding, even in these dark days, lightens the spirit. Go little Vespa.

-- Posted from my iPhone

Notes from the Road (and my new iPhone)

2009-11-01T08:31:00.001-05:00

Things always change. While many blogging colleagues endeavor to improve their photography I seem to be going backwards. At least for these Notes from the Road posts.

On the way to Saint's this morning I made this picture indicative of the mix of danger and intrigue related to riding, blogging, and photography with an iPhone. Picture and text with the iPhone and post created with the BlogPress app for the iPhone.

In the future I will post from the road. Right now a bagel awaits...

Triumph Thunderbird Conversion

2009-10-30T01:13:00.003-04:00

In my dreams the road goes on forever.

I gravitate towards empty roads and places off the beaten path. Standing in the middle of old Route 220, once a place of pandemonium and aggressive drivers, I feel at home. And also a bit surprised at how A few weeks ago I sat on a motorcycle outside Kissell Motorsports. I found myself at the beginning of an unexpected conversion. A dedicated Vespa rider enthralled with a big cruising bike. The Triumph Thunderbird.

It's been almost a month since I had the Thunderbird. Enough time to sort out feelings and reactions to the biggest, heaviest motorcycle I've ridden in a long time. I expected a slow, lumbering, unresponsive ride. What I found was a remarkably nimble and easy to handle machine. The engineers at Triumph would probably cringe to read what I am about to say -- I found myself thinking more than once "This feels like my Vespa.". With the Triumph Thunderbird sitting along the road while I try and figure out the best angles for photographs it looks nothing like a Vespa.

I left early one morning for what would become a hundred mile short ride. Patches of fog were scattered through the valley producing areas of limited visibility and wet pavement. While making this picture I noticed the prominence of the exhaust system. Big pipes for the big almost 100 cubic inch parallel twin engine produce a deep rumble. Not too loud and not at all obnoxious. Something I can't say about most of the big cruisers that pass through my neighborhood, especially the ones that operate between 2am and 7am. Moving mechanical obnoxious alarm clocks. But I digress.

The exhaust tone of the Thunderbird reminds me of the growl of a big, mean dog. You know he's big and he does too. No need for any barking.

I confess limited experience on big cruisers. Or anything with two wheels weighing close to 750 pounds. Call me crazy but I always take new bikes to some empty parking lot for some experimentation. Not to see what the bike can do but to determine how little I know. The Mount Nittany Middle School has a nice big lot that supports all sorts of turns, swerves, quick braking, U-turns and anything else you might want to try. In less than 30 minutes imagined myself comfortable and at home on the Triumph. A quick stop for a picture in the fog and I was off to meet my friend Larry for breakfast.

Anyone who's followed Scooter in the Sticks knows a lot of my riding is slow-paced and riddled with numerous stops for pictures. A motorcycle has to be easy to manuever, run smoothly at slow speeds, and allow for quick on and offs. The Thunderbird engine and transmission produced extremely smooth riding at any speed, was agile at even the slowest speeds, and was simple to park almost anywhere. Stopped to photograph a tunnel of trees in the fog I was wondering if the Triumph and I would be a good fit. With the addition of some saddle bags for my camera and gear I could ride this machine anywhere.

A lot of riders don't understand the slow traveling part of riding. They want to get somewhere fast, ride along with a group, or just can't get their head or their hand to agree to speeds that are more akin to bicycle riding. But once the speedometer passes 25mph it is amazing how hard it is to react to things in the landscape. I might just be slow in the head but by the time my brain recognizes something of interest it's already behind me at higher speeds. And I resist turning around just to look or take a picture. I was sitting on the Thunderbird at about 30mph when I noticed the fog strewn across the farm. I don't want to miss this stuff.

I was getting hungry but still would stop to examine some odd detail along the road. The road surface was wet from an early fog but the Thunderbird offered no trouble or complaints as I moved along. The riding position on this bike was near perfect for me. An upright seating position, bars that were wide and just right for me, and foot pegs that seemed to be exactly where my body thought they should be. Both rear footbrake and shifter lever were easy to find and use. Something I can't say for every bike I've ridden where they seem small and hard to manage with the standard issue scooter clod hoppers I wear courtesy of Wolverine Boots.

Fog strouded the Sunset West Diner in Pleasant Gap. It looked like something out of Twin Peaks. Very odd. The Triumph looked appropriate in the lot. It is a handsome motorcycle. Triumph does an outstanding job of producing machines with classic lines. For anyone wanting a big cruiser with elegant lines and complete functionality this is worth looking at. Twice.

Fat and happy from my standard breakfast fare it was time to see how the Thunderbird performed in it's more traditional role as a highway cruiser. Jump on Interstate 99, twist the throttle and watch the needle on the speedometer leap to 80 in no time. All similarities to my Vespa evaporate on the freeway. With so much power, torque, and a smooth, stable ride at any speed I was willing to travel. Even the windblast in my chest seemed stable.

Central Pennsylvania is a beautiful place to ride. The views along the highway can, at times, be breathtaking. Looking at the Triumph I can easily imagine riding it anywhere in America.

The single guage on the tank is a model of simple design and complex function. In addition to the big speedometer a button on the right-hand grip allowed me to toggle through a variety of functions like fuel level, mileage remaining, clock, trip meter and more. And there was a readout for RPMs too but I wasn't concerned about that. Between the engine sound and it's ability to pull at any speed in any gear I didn't pay much attention to how fast things were spinning around. I was just having a fine time riding.

The big gas tank was easy to put fuel in. Not something I would normally notice but for some reason it seemed easier to see what was happening as I added. With all these new bikes I worry about splashing gas all over pristine paint and chrome. Not a worry with this bike.

I stopped to visit with the Nittany Road Riders who were taking part in Chris Kepler's 7th Annual Pennsylvania Grand Canyon Ride. The Thunderbird was the lone cruiser in the group but I'm certain it would have no problems keeping up. I found myself wishing I could go along but duty called another direction.

Around town the Triumph Thunderbird continues to excel. Up and down alleys, backing into parking spaces, making U-turns -- whatever I asked the bike to do it complied without complaint. Or perhaps I should say my skills did. With solid riding skills on a small scooter or motorcycle the transition to the Thunderbird is simple. My limits were apparent and areas to practice more were as well.

I rode the Triumph to work on the last day I had it. Backing through a gap between a pickup truck and another bike and into one of the motorcycle spaces was far easier than I would have expected. Standing there before going to my office I wondered how I could have dismissed any interest in a cruiser style motorcycle. I had ridden them before. I can remember riding a Harley back in the 1970s. Maybe that was the problem. This wasn't the 70s and this bike was a 2010 Triumph Thunderbird.

I've been converted. There is a place in my garage for the Thunderbird. Figuratively speaking.

Snow, Dog, and My Lazy Ass

2009-10-18T22:42:00.002-04:00

I can blame snow for lack of riding. Sort of. But not for not writing anything. Can I? I still have an essay on the Triumph Thunderbird I had a couple weeks ago. It's almost ready but I can't cross the goal line.

My hands are cold and I can't type well. How's that sound? Lame. I have been riding in the cold. One morning commute saw the temperature at 33 degrees Fahrenheit. I had to drag myself to the garage and put on the gear. My First Gear Kilimanjaro jacket lost it's zipper so the sealing from the wind is not so good. The electric gloves are working fine. I'm just tired. Not so tired that I didn't venture out in the recent snow to try and adjust my seasonal clock. I'm stuck in summer mode.

The dog. That's why I haven't been writing (or riding) more. I think. He sure does take a lot of energy. Both shoulders are sore from lofting tennis balls for this tireless beast. The Chuckit has helped propel the ball farther but so far my arms feel wrecked. Junior loves chasing those yellow balls.

The other morning I decided to end a ride short and just pulled into the Pump Station to relax and stare out the window. And have a breakfast sandwich. And tea. My body has been drained by too much exercise. I can barely type now. My lazy ass just wants to climb into bed. I suppose that's a good thing. I can't survive anymore on 3 or 4 hours sleep.

Gordon and I still get together once a week for the 3 Prints Project. Right now it should be the No Prints Project. I've shot some film but have not processed a thing in a month. Progress -- I did by new chemicals yesterday. It is nice to sit at Saints and make excuses.

Lots of tree branches came down in the unexpectedly early snowfall. Kim eyed some Curly Willow branches that she wanted. I loaded them on the roof of my truck and crawled home. I should have tied them to the back of the Vespa. Would have made a better picture.

Every morning at 5am Junior stirs and tries to get me moving. He doesn't flash me this sweet look because it's still dark but he has other tricks. I made this photo at the park on Friday. He sure loves, I mean loves, chasing tennis balls. It shows in his face.

PHOTO BY PAUL RUBY

My friend Paul made this picture at Barnes and Noble last night. I looked at it on the camera after he shot it and asked him to send it to me. It's a reminder that I don't look as burned out as I feel. Maybe my expectations are skewed. Maybe it's ok to feel drained taking care of a big puppy.

Despite my whining all is well. It's good to get more exercise and the routine works for me. On Wednesday we begin dog college. Obedience Training. Owner Training. Opportunities to fail and look stupid. Junior is smarter than I am. I am here typing. He is lying at my feet sleeping.

Case closed.

Small Riding Accomplishments

2009-10-11T07:49:00.000-04:00

Fall is my favorite riding season. Cooler temperatures coupled with light and color from a magic paint box make every curve in the road a visual feast. I can't help those of you who live in the flatlands where the roads are all straight.

Riding has collided with responsibility. New work responsibilities, old work responsibilities, a new dog, and all the other things I need or want to do shred my days and burn hours at a startling rate. Long rides seem impossible. That's why I've had to mentally regroup. There is much to gain in small rides.

On Saturday morning I had one hour to ride. Sixty minutes to embrace two-wheeled motion and see what would happen. As usual, the Vespa releases me from the weight of my thoughts and I'm in the flow of the ride. My focus shifts from things I have to do to what is happening right now, right in front of me. I move from my mind to my senses and the world gets brighter.

Stopped along the road taking in the tunnel of changing leaves I am grateful for a chance to be on the road.

Riding only 25 miles there is no shortage of places to see. I wandered into the woods at a place where Kim and I once found a Blood Root plant. Peering through the woods at the scooter I'm reminded of how little I stop when I am in the truck. The world exists only as destinations and I tend to ignore the journey from inside the cage.

I told a friend yesterday that I don't like group rides because they don't stop enough. I'm not happy with only food and bathroom breaks. I wonder at times if I would ride at all if the camera wasn't involved.

On a stop to peer out along the valley I noticed a salamander crossing the road. I think this one is a Wehrle’s salamander. Crouching on the road with my camera on the macro setting I wondered whether this guy was going to bite me. Amazing what passes through a head. And equally amazing how much detail I miss because I'm not paying attention.

I arrived home rested and recharged from a short, small ride. I had forgotten how good they are. As I typed this post I'd been wondering if it is worth the trouble to gear up and ride into town to meet my friend Gordon (3 Prints Project). The temperature is in the 30s and it's just a short distance.

Now that I remember my short little ride I am now going to head to the garage and fire up the Vespa.

Junior and the Thunderbird

2009-10-03T05:52:00.006-04:00

PHOTO BY KIM DIONIS

Meet Junior -- the new canine addition to our family. Seventy pounds of Belgian Sheepdog energy. At 13 months of age he needs a lot of attention, training and love. Time that used to be spent on the road.

And this is a Triumph Thunderbird. The latest motorcycle to appear in my life. At over 700 pounds and nearly 100 cubic inches of engine is needs a lot of attention and training too.

Junior (named by the breeder we got him from) is a smart dog. He's waiting patiently with a minimum of pacing for me to finish this post and take him to the dog park for some tennis ball chasing. My right arm is useless. I have gotten pretty good throwing left-handed but that arm is fading fast.

The Thunderbird is the biggest bike I've ridden in a long time. If the Ducati was a racehorse this bike is like a draft horse. A big, gentle but powerful Percheron. Lots of pulling power.

My agricultural background informs my metaphors.

Junior wants to go. He's losing interest in the rawhide bone. And later I want to ride. So stay tuned for what develops with the Triumph Thunderbird.

Where Have All The Riders Gone?

2009-09-29T22:04:00.003-04:00

Watch the temperature drop below 60 degrees and all the riders disappear. It's just the scooters at work. At least today. The leaves are falling and autumn is coming on with a vengeance. I've been busy at work and at home and time seems to evaporate.

For now I have to be content with my commute to work.

Ducati HyperMotard: Engineering Meets the Beginners Mind

2009-09-18T17:15:00.002-04:00

I knew the HyperMotard was different by the way Craig Kissell was carefully describing how to best operate and ride the bike. Other employees and even one of the technicians weighed in with their opinions and stories of life on this particular Ducati. By the time I left Kissell Motorsports I had a list of cautions and riding procedures. I wasn't sure if this was standard operating procedure for anyone going out the door with a Ducati or if they felt this scooter rider might be in over his head. Whatever the reason for the first time I climbed onto a motorcycle nervous and uncertain of my skill. Anxious as if I were climbing aboard a Thoroughbred racehorse after years of pleasure riding on a gentle old mare.

Pausing along the road to look at the bike and make a few pictures I was reminded of the grace and power of this motorcycle. I was also reminded of my riding skill and experience and my habit of beginning slow. A beginners mind.

Ducati makes fine motorcycles. It only took a few moments to appreciate the engineering and craftsmanship that work together to create an avid following of riders. After familiarizing myself with the handling of the HyperMotard before sunrise in the parking lot of the Pennsylvania Military Museum I pulled over along a small gravel drive to make a photograph of the evaporating fog under a setting moon.

The Ducati is a powerful motorcycle. At 390 pounds and 90 horsepower it wants to go. Craig warned me that this is not a cruising bike and would complain when the RPMs dropped below 3000 rpm in the wrong gear. The Hypermotard just didn't feel right going slow and I could sense myself wanting to go faster. Definitely not designed for putting along looking for the next picture.

Fast traveling on roads like US 322 is simple. Turn the throttle and the Ducati leaps forward. Developing a sensitive touch on the throttle took a little practice. It's easy to imagine an inexperienced rider having trouble. A bit too much throttle and the bike feels as if it is trying to eject you backwards onto the road. Panic a bit and grab tight on the bars may only succeed in turning the throttle more and making matters worse. Years of careful control of power on my Vespa kept me in the safe zone.

To be completely honest I was nervous riding the HyperMotard, nervous beyond any passing thoughts of dropping an expensive new motorcycle dodging a chipmunk or some other unfortunate riding incident. On this bike I was concerned with the sheer power and how to manage it with the tools I have in my own riding experience toolbox. One thing frequent stops to make pictures does is to give a person a chance to assess what is going on. During this stop I realized I needed to apply the basics, all those simple skills and techniques that have served me well to manage risk. I may not be a beginner in terms of miles under my belt but I try to stay close to a beginners mind and show the respect a motorcycle and riding demands.

Appreciation of the landscape and a desire to capture it on film (you know what I mean) has that unintentional effect of slowing me down. I can't see the little details if I am flying down the road. It does indicate to me that control of the machine is only one part of the equation. Control of myself and the choices I make are just as important. Riding the Ducati I felt a constant pressure to go faster. The temptation is strong.

As empty as this road looks I have been surprised by geese, ducks, deer, dogs and fisherman appearing out of nowhere. I've passed many riders whose pace far outstrips my own faith that the fellow coming the other direction will do his part not to mention the critters who don't know there is a part to play.

I seem to be standing in or alongside the road more than traveling on it. While fishing the camera out of my riding jacket I heard a truck coming down the road and rounded this corner taking his lane out of the center of the road. When I photographed the red truck he was doing a bit better but not much. The HyperMotard thrives on diving into curves. It's here I have to balance what the bike and I can do against what seems prudent. We all set that line differently. The difference between my Vespa and the Ducati is how the more powerful machine seems to tempt a person towards the edge.

Just so I don't seem like a complete milktoast rider I did push the Ducati where it seemed prudent to do so. And after a couple hours of riding I felt as home on the bike as I do on my scooter. I had tested the brakes in a range of conditions and panic stops and I have to say that compared to anything I've ridden the front brakes on the Ducati startling in how they bite. I worked a bit to become accustomed to them just in case I needed to take advantage of all that stopping power.

At the end of the day I remain a tourist on two-wheels. Speed and performance are lost on me. My habits on the road find other traits more desireable. Still, the HyperMotard was smooth, powerful, and just an elegant piece of mechanical engineering. And given the right locations, skills and circumstances you could really have fun with one of these. I'm sure if Joe Paterno was a rider he would be running to get one.

The Ducati HyperMotard is fast and fun. Those two elements are a challenge to keep under control. If those things appeal to you, if you think you can't handle the potential at your fingertips then the Ducati may be the right motorcycle. For me, it offers too much and I fear my mind may be too weak to manage this bike responsibly. Besides, where would I carry my tripod?

Or in a couple months a Christmas tree??

Advanced, Experienced Riding Technique

2009-09-14T20:51:00.004-04:00

NOTE: ***The following techniques should only be engaged in by advanced, experienced riders.***

Shortly after 7am I was on my way to work. Sleepy commuters at the wheels of their cages darted from lane to lane, competing for position as far ahead of each other as possible. Noticing fog over a field to my left, I moved into the left lane. The fog hung along the path of a small creek. I can always use one more fog picture.

Waiting at the traffic light by Hills Plaza, my attention shifted between the rear view mirror and the traffic light. I make it a habit to watch for competitive commuters approaching from the rear. The light turned green. I twisted the throttle.

Then it happened. Sudden loss of power. Engine running but no response when I work the throttle. I thumb the turn signal and move into the empty right lane when the engine cuts out. Rolling downhill, I coast through the next traffic light and make a right turn onto Branch Road. Twenty feet later, the scooter rolls to a stop. Instinct tells me: Take a picture.

My fuel gauge had stopped working a few weeks earlier, so I'd switched to one of the classic modes of fuel management: counting miles ridden since my last fill-up. After extensive and careful calculation, I had determined I could easily travel 100 miles between fuel stops with a 2.4 gallon tank. The trip odometer read 88 miles. I couldn't possibly be out of gas.

Stepping away from the Vespa, I began streaming data through my gourd like an engineer analyzing the Space Shuttle. With mini MagLite in hand, I removed the gas cap. I shined the light inside. Empty. Nothing. Even the fumes are gone. For the first time in my life (not counting lawn mowers) I have run out of gas.

This is where advanced technique comes into play. Two miles behind me is a gas station. Another mile ahead, uphill, is another. My mind moves into overdrive. Training turns it into a meat-based supercomputer seeking the answer to an age-old riding question -- "Who will save me now?"

Traffic is increasing as more people make their way to work. A light flickers in my head. My daughter and her husband travel this way to work. They may still be at home. They have a lawn mower. They have fuel.

Jason answers the phone. "Buhwah?"

Shit. He was sleeping. "Did I get you up?"

"It's the first time I said anything today." Now with perfect enunciation. I think of slow cranking in cold weather and chokes on carburetors.

A few minutes later I'm pouring 100 percent grade A lawn mower gas through a small funnel into the Vespa. Just a glassful and I'm off for some Exxon Supreme. At the Exxon station, the Vespa's 2.4-gallon tank gulps more than 2 gallons of fuel.

I ran out of gas. My calculations failed. But I faced a real life riding situation and I lived to tell of it. I'll look back on this one day and realize I'm a better man for it.

Additional Note: In my emotional state my wife Kim helped me make sense of this post and the experience.

Vespa GTS 300: The Town and Country Ride

2009-09-05T22:05:00.006-04:00

That's me examining the Vespa GTS300 Super.

Going through some additional pictures recently it occurred to me (again) that this scooter is an exceptional, all-around vehicle for town and country riding. My own Vespa GTS 250ie is near perfect for daily commuting to work and for weekend rides in the 50 to 200 miles range so it was hard to imagine any real advantages of the newer and bigger scooter. But the extra power makes this Vespa a perfect town and country ride.

Anyone who has piloted a big motorcycle around town, pulling into parking spaces, running a quick errand, and repeating the process half a dozen times knows how tedious it can be to roll a heavy bike into a parking space. They aren't always as nice and open as the one in the picture above. The Vespa is so easy to maneuver that you can easily get the scooter into any available space with little effort. The only easier mode of transport in town would be a bicycle. Unfortunately I've never had as much fun on a bicycle as I do on a scooter.

The 300 isn't too big and it isn't too small. It's just right and easily blends into the urban and town environment. I appreciate the ease of stopping and putting the Vespa on the centerstand for pictures. Pop the seat open, grab a camera and go. That translates easily into a wide range of errands.

I've like the way a Vespa looks. The lines and styling almost make the scooter seem like a sculpture rather than something to ride. It makes a fine subject for pictures.

I took the Vespa through local streets and alleys, stopping and starting, parking, moving, U-turns, everything I could think of to try and find a maneuver that was just plain irritating. Verdict-- my only complaint was the absence of the rear rack and side bar that is standard with the GTS250. I like having the handle to hold onto when I throw the scooter up on the center stand.

You hear a lot about people noticing motorcycles and scooters. My experience is that those already interested in riding or machines may pause or ask a question. Everyone else, like the woman in the picture, passes by without a glance. Civilians don't seem much interested in two-wheeled machines. She does provide compositional balance to the picture as the Vespa stands illegally on the sidewalk in Calder Alley.

Out of town, on winding tree lined roads that climb over the mountains of central Pennsylvania this big Vespa goes as fast as any touring rider would want to go. While no road racer it's power and acceleration are surprising. For weekend rides through the country, rides in the 150 to 250 mile range are no problem on the Vespa 300 (or the 150 or 25o for that matter). My friend Paul shot this picture of me riding up the Unionville Pike.

On the way home I passed a BMW RT1100 sitting at a light as I passed through the intersection. I thought it might be my friend Dan so I pulled off the road and waited. Years ago Dan had a Vespa with a sidecar but now he's on a more luxurious ride. Sure enough he pulls up and we have a chance to compare notes between his BMW and the Vespa. Most people don't picture two machines as different as these as possible riding partners. They are completely different with different strengths and weaknesses but for an occasional, rleaxed weekend ride through the country there is no reasons these two can't play together fine.

The Vespa really isn't as small as it looks in this picture. Looks can be deceiving. Scooters are functional and useful. They may not be able to rocket you down the road at 100mph but the Vespa 300 will fly along all day on the roads of this region without a complaint --- in town or in the country.

All Fog, All the Time

2009-08-30T21:37:00.006-04:00

It was suggested in a recent post on 2StrokeBuzz that it must always be foggy here in Pennsylvania since so many of my pictures are made in that magical atmosphere. Kim made the above picture through the window of our VW Jetta as we traveled to Altoona yesterday. We had just come out of some fog and there was more ahead. The weather has been strange this summer and perhaps responsible for the increase in fog. It is definitely is responsible for the emergence of Late Blight in tomatoes hitting tomato growers in Pennsylvania -- the same blight responsible for the Irish Potato Famine of the 19th century. But I digress....

I love how the world looks in the fog. I feel the tug of photographic attraction when I wake to a fog-shrouded world (not talking intoxicants here). As a rider, I make a more considered response before venturing forth on the highway in fog. I made the above picture last weekend while riding the Piaggio MP3-250. The fog varied between what you see in the picture and slightly more dense. Moisture build-up on my visor didn't help. The decision to ride was based on knowing that traffic would be light and people driving at reasonable speeds. So I decided I could manage the risks.

My friend Paul snapped a shot of me making the previous picture. Not all roads have such bright lines and generous berms. They help tremendously in fog to keep things safe. Or at least create a road landscape in which to operate safely.

For photography buffs reading I don't often make my pictures while seated. I usually stop and look around for the good shot. But this one was a no brainer.

On another foggy morning a few weeks ago I made this portrait of the Kawasaki KLR 650 on a quiet, low traffic road. Since this is Happy Valley most people travel intelligently in these conditions. But I remain vigilant for out of town drivers...

Parting thoughts about riding in fog: Carefully judge the risk to be assumed. Gauge traffic, speed, road conditions, visibility, riding skills and experience, and apply all that to your own equation of how much risk you are willing to take on the road. There is always a possibility that things can go wrong on the road regardless of what you are driving or riding. It's just that it can be worse on two wheels.

And I always caution people about how slow I am going generally because I am out looking for pictures. At the speeds I travel I usually have plenty of time to process what's in front of me. And with eyes keenly aware of what's behind me as well I feel comfortable in the fog...

Demystifying the Piaggio MP3

2009-08-26T12:27:00.002-04:00

Craig Kissell suggested I take the Piaggio MP3-250 for the weekend. He must sense what I am ready to ride. Or ready to accept. So far each motorcycle or scooter has been a sort of minor revelation. The only problem I see having developed is that the next time I visit Kissell Motorsports I am going to want to try the MP3-400 and 500. (Note to Craig: Please reserve one of those big MP3's for me please)

From the first time I read about the Piaggio MP3 I began collecting a series of misperceptions. Until I finally had a chance to take it for a long ride last weekend I didn't realize how completely I misunderstood this machine. I was wrong about how it worked, about why someone might choose one, and most of all about the stability of the MP3.

Stability. Looking at the extra front wheel I assumed the MP3 would have superior stability. It does. On the road the thing feels glued to the road. On rough pavement or gravel you almost don't notice any change with both wheels independently navigating what comes along. In turns the MP3 leans smoothly like a two-wheeled vehicle but has the advantage of an extra wheel and suspension system to keep things surprisingly surefooted. Riding along PA Route 45 at 60mph the MP3 didn't flinch in the air blast of passing trucks. Two-wheeled motorcycles and scooters can be buffeted about badly in situations like that but the MP3 was solid and did not seem inclined to be blown off it's chosen course. Nice. Very nice.

So where was I wrong about stability? I was wrong in my expectations of how stable the MP3 would be at slow speeds--I believed it would not easily fall over. I feel stupid admitting this but in my head the MP3 was going to be my ride of choice in old age when my legs were weak and balance fading because the MP3 would stand up by itself. After all you can lock the front wheels in the upright position and it won't fall over. To reinforce my perceptions I look to a trip by two gentleman in their 70s across America on MP3s sponsored by Piaggio. You can see the results on the Web site No Age Limit.

This idea of stability went so far in my head that I even considered the MP3 a suitable first ride for my wife rather than having her learn the more difficult process of riding on two wheels. What can I say? I was wrong. I'm an idiot. Just follow along a bit and I'll explain.

I planned to meet my friend Paul in town and ride to some exotic breakfast location as part of a ritualistic riding habit. Coming up Calder Alley on a Saturday morning means you will be faced with trucks blocking your progress as they unload their wares. The MP3 travels unimpeded past them and allows me to stop in the middle of the road for a picture. When you stop you can lock the front wheels with a touch of a button. A blinking yellow light becomes a constant yellow informing you that the wheels are now locked and the MP3 will stand up all by itself. As you slow down to stop the blinking light comes on the moment you are traveling slow enough to lock the wheels. With a bit of practice and coordination you can engage the lock without ever putting your feet down.

For an experienced rider used to balancing at slow speeds and manipulating a variety of controls it's a pretty simple process. But for a new or inexperienced rider it just gets confusing. Do it wrong and you are sitting there thinking the wheels are locked and they aren't and down you go. And even if you do have them locked don't touch the throttle. A little inadvertent twist automatically disengages the lock and if you are moving---down you go. I've read about lot's of new MP3 owners dropping their new machines. I could never understand this until I took one for a ride.

My advice--don't touch the wheel locking button at all until your are completely comfortable riding the MP3 without it. Then introduce the wheel lock.

Paul and I left and after a bit of waffling on my part in terms of route we headed south out of town with plans to travel over Pine Grove Mountain. Fog was heavy in part of the valley and one of the less traveled routes out of town was closed for construction. As I stopped at the Road Closed sign Paul swung past me on his BMW and disappeared in the fog on the other side of the sign. So I twisted the throttle on the MP3 and introduced it to life as a scofflaw. Fortunately there were no pits to fall into. Just a smoothly graded bed of gravel awaiting truckloads of asphalt. The MP3 was unfazed by the gravel.

By the time we were over the mountain and traveling along the backroads I was completely enamoured by the MP3. The 249cc engine had plenty of power for these roads. Choosing one of the bigger MP3s, the 400 or 500, would expand performance and make freeway riding simple.

Paul and I stopped for breakfast just east of Huntingdon along US Route 22 at the Side Street Cafe and Deli. It's hidden off the road and not easy to see. I caught it out of the corner of my eye as we rode by and made a point to turn around and see what fare the local eatery offered.

No surprises at breakfast other than the prices. Low. Paul wondered aloud how they could stay in business. I didn't care to have that question answered and focused on enjoying the bounty provided.

For me a big part of the enjoyment of riding is discovery. Sometimes things about myself but more often new places I've not visited before. We managed to find a narrow road running through gaps in the mountains that offered little traffic, mostly fresh pavement, and a chance to see a lot of natural scenery. The kind of things that can recharge my battery.

I suppose the search isn't the same for everyone. While I looked for new views and scenery Paul searched for a cell signal for his iPhone. Different strokes.

Looking at the picture above I'm not sure what I miss more as I write. Being out in the world or riding the MP3. Despite having a lot of ideas dispelled when it came to this Piaggio product I quickly became comfortable with this scooter and found myself imagining life with this being the only ride available. While I like a lot of things I wasn't finding myself upset at the prospect. There is a lot to like about the MP3 as a machine to support recreational rides and as a daily commuting and transportation ride. It's superior stability on the road is a big advantage in my mind as I think about gravel, manure, rain, snow and other elements working against traction on the road. And the locking front wheels I at first thought of as a safety hazard and then a novelty now seems useful in a variety of ways, not the least of which is how it affords quick dismounts for taking pictures.

The Piaggio MP3 is a completely functional machine. The instrument cluster shows a lot of information including a variety of digital displays available at a touch of a button. Add to that the generous built in storage capacity and my scooter hauling abilities suddenly seem anemic.

And it's styling and looks has started to grow on me. While it doesn't look like a motorcycle or scooter it embodies the best handling of them both. And it's definitely worth a look especially if you are looking for an all purpose machine.

2009 Vespa GTS300 Super: A Beginner's Ride?

2009-08-18T22:26:00.002-04:00

Ideas and attitudes towards scooters are wide ranging. One common notion is scooters aren't suitable for serious riding. Beginner bikes. Glorified toys to play with in the neighborhood. Perhaps even ride to work if it's not too far. My guess is that most of these ideas come from a lack of direct experience riding scooters or a nervousness surrounding perceptions associated with scooters. Standing along a slightly misty Linden Hall Road surveying the Vespa most recently on loan from Kissell Motorsports I thought how perfect it is for the meandering secondary roads found throughout central Pennsylvania. Like all the Vespa scooters I've ridden it is solid, stylish and easy to ride. For a beginner it's a great way to hone the skills necessary to manage yourself on the road. And once you're on one you'll realize it's capable of a lot more than you think. Like riding with the big dogs.

That's what a Vespa GTS300 Super can do if given the chance. A couple months ago I was at Kissell Motorsports talking to a gentleman who was looking at a Can-Am Spyder, one of those big three wheeled motorcycles. He explained he was looking at the 100 plus horsepower machine for his wife. "She's never ridden before and I'm not sure she'll be able to manage on two-wheels." Thinking that the Spyder may be a bit imposing for a first time rider I inquired about a Vespa. With a concerned look and shake of his head he uttered, "I'm a BMW rider.". There were a lot of ways to read our brief interaction but I think what he was getting at was he needed his wife to have something to keep up with his motorcycle. After three days with the new Vespa GTS300 Super I can attest to it's ability to keep up with anything at any posted speed limit in Pennsylvania if need be. Or in the surrounding states for that matter. While not anyone's first choice for a long distance cruiser the Vespa is an excellent road companion for any rider interested in weekend rides through the countryside. Add to it's utterly useful functionality as a commuter vehicle and an around town errand transport the scooter is pretty amazing.

I've been riding a Vespa GTS250 for a couple years now and was anxious to see how the bigger machine compared. Looking at both the casual observer would have trouble telling them apart without the nameplates or knowledge of some of the color components specific to the 300. The engine sounds slightly deeper in tone but hardly noticeable considering how quiet all the Vespa scooters are. On the road it only took a few miles to know where the real difference lies -- the Vespa GTS300 Super has more pulling power through its entire speed range. Twist the throttle and it accelerates whether you are standing still or going 50mph. The extra 50cc's makes a difference. It was particularly noticeable on hills. The 250 is no slouch but the 300 gives a useful bit of extra power.

Thinking about the gentleman seeking something for his wife I could not help but think again that a scooter like this would be a great choice for a first ride. Less likelihood of a big motorcycle sitting unused in the garage because a new rider never really gets comfortable with something too big. Introducing a spouse to the riding life for the first time may yield more positive results with a Vespa.

Morning fog was in the forecast. I like to know what to expect when I depart on Saturday morning. An early departure allowed for some time to experiment with the new Vespa's handling. Familiar, frequently territory still beckons for one more photograph. The white Vespa makes a fine subject with classic lines.

I made plans to ride with my friend Paul -- he on his Harley and me on the Vespa.

Not far from the University Park Airport we pulled off the road to make a few pictures. I'm grateful that Paul will still ride with me considering how often I stop to take pictures. If he was not a serious photographer himself I suspect our riding friendship would have ended a long time ago. I've found a Vespa to be a near perfect photography platform. Easy to pull over almost anywhere and put it up on the centerstand or make sudden and narrow U-turns.

I write a lot about the joys of riding alone. But I do appreciate sharing unexpected turns on the road with someone at times. Looking through the viewfinder the empty road needed something. I asked Paul if he needed to stretch his back.

The Vespa GTS 300's power shows going up hills. Acceleration is improved over my GTS250 as well as power throughout the speed range. After taking my pictures the Vespa raced up the winding road over the mountain and into the Bald Eagle Valley.

Everyone knows that food is an important part of riding. A goal and an excuse. This morning was no different and Paul and I found ourselves breakfast at the Unionville Cafe.

Without any genes to energize culinary adventure tendencies I order my usual hearty breakfast. Having such simple tastes means I am seldom disappointed almost guaranteeing an enjoyable ride.

Near the top of the Allegheny Plateau in the Moshannon State Forest under bright sunlight I could look across the fog filled valley towards home. Reaching this point brough the Vespa GTS300 through miles of twisting roads. The steering is tighter and the scooter feels more sure footed than the 250 I normally ride. That combined with the extra power made for an easy ride in this terrain.

Along the lake at Black Moshannon State Park. Paul is trying to get me to ride off into the woods for a picture or park the scooter at the end of a small wooden dock. In both cases I see a phone call to Kissell Motorsports explaining why I was off-road with the Vespa or asking how to get water out of the crankcase. Besides, I didn't see Paul pushing his Harley out on the dock.

One last stop moving back across the plateau towards home. The Vespa performs well and I think about what it can't do. Not much really. It's more a matter of degree of specialty than not actually being able to do anything. I've ridden my smaller Vespa on the freeway for hundreds of miles. I've travelled in cities and throughout the countryside. In 100 degree heat and at -15 degree cold. On dry pavement, wet pavement, dirt, gravel, snow and ice. The Vespa is a great machine for a beginner and will allow for lots of growth. It's a gem around town but can run with the big dogs too if invited. And the expertise acquired on the scooter translates fine to a bigger, more powerful motorcycle if that's where your path goes.

I'm not sure if that fellow got his wife the Can-Am Spyder or not but I really think the Vespa would have been the better choice. Get your husband or wife a scooter. Ride with them. Show them the ropes. Who knows where it will take you.

The Return of the Vespa

2009-08-15T13:29:00.002-04:00

It felt like I getting in a clown car. The tiny scooter. I could hardly believe I was thinking that when I got back on the Vespa minutes after returning a Kawasaki KLR 650. The nature of the KLR kept my shoulders spread and my legs extended more fully while riding. The close, compact riding position of the GTS seemed almost shocking and a rush of thoughts appeared in my head that scooter riding was finished, spoiled by the recent riding of motorcycles. For a few moment scooter innocence and simplicity abandoned me as I rode towards home.

It didn't take long to find my place on the Vespa. A few rides to work, a few errands and the he earnest utility of the scooter becomes apparent. By Thursday morning I was back in the groove as I headed south of town towards Rock Springs.

Still can't pass up an interesting path. A photographic treasure could lurk that way. With corn over eight feet tall there are a lot of mysterious farm lanes around. The scooter readily runs along the gravel lanes at slow, explorer speeds. I sacrifice a few extra minutes to check around a few bends in the corn.

Another quick stop at Gate D of the Penn State Ag Research Center to survey the for for pictures. It had become a uniform grey with little subject matter to give the fog any personality. Disappointed I ride on towards my morning work assignment.

Ag Progress Days begin next week and 40-50 thousand people will arrive to check out the latest agricultural innovations in machines, management, livestock and more. I've ridden out to help set lights for one of the exhibit buildings. A day of physical labor will remind me of the current status of my body.

I admire how you can get away with far more parking options with a scooter than you can with a motorcycle. I see them around town parked in little places behind utility poles, odd spaces in parking lots, next to bike racks, etc. One definite advantage of the smaller scooters. My Vespa GTS250 is right on the edge of being too big to play invisible.

The Vespa has returned to my riding life and the clown car has reappeared as a real machine capable of real travel. And it delivers more fun than I have a right to expect. If my scooter had a name I think I would owe it an apology...

A Wedding

2009-08-11T21:17:00.002-04:00

The day arrived. My oldest daughter was getting married. This story has nothing to do with riding. Well, almost nothing.

I did ride the Triumph Speed Triple to Portfolio in Boalsburg at 8am last Saturday morning to shoot a picture of her having her hair done before the 10:30am ceremony. It would be the only riding I would do that day but I suppose one has to make sacrifices for their children. And I earned the right to not be the photographer save for a few snapshots I made with a little point-and-wait camera. It was a nice day.

Time flies. Seems like yesterday that I held my little girl in a warm bath minutes after she was born. A few months ago she was being fitted for a wedding gown that languished in the store most likely because few women wanted or could wear such a long dress. It reminded me of Cinderella.

Hannah endured a few pictures while she and the stylist worked to figure out what to do. I didn't stay for the entire session and would wait until later that morning to see the results.

The wedding took place in Eisenhower Chapel on the University Park campus of Penn State. Dwight D. Eisenhower laid the cornerstone of the chapel some time after he finished with World War II.

I photographed two weddings their myself back in the 1970s and it has remained largely unchanged to the casual observer. A Bosendorfer grand piano has replaced the more pedestrian one that was there in the 70s. I sat watching Hannah and Jason enter marriage in a simple, elegant ceremony. She has been and continues to be a source of pride. Don't ever tell her I said that.

Hannah and Jason invited guests to have dinner at the Gamble Mill in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania. It was perhaps the most pleasant and relaxed wedding I have ever attended which for me is saying a lot. I have to admit that I shy from social events. Aversion or phobia. Chose one. But this was fun. I caught my 3 Prints Project friend Gordon Harkins photographing them. Gordon was the official photographer.

The picture above is an impressionistic interpretation of the bridal couple.

Jason and Hannah paused to let me make a picture of them with the beautiful flowers that were at their ceremony. The only grumbling of the day came from me wishing I had a real camera and didn't have to fiddle with my point and shoot at ISO 1600. I knew I would end up with a noisy image but I planned to tell everyone that the picture is an impressionistic interpretation of the bridal couple.

I only shot 200 pictures so I can't show any more. These are the only ones that turned out. Unfortunately I can only photograph scooters or motorcycles. Hopefully Gordon's pictures will turn out. I'll have to drown my frustration with my pictures and the nostalgic chords being struck seeing my little girl married with a ride. I wish her grandparents could have been with her. Maybe they are.

Until then, congratulations Hannah and Jason. All the best wishes for a fine life together.

And you should think about ditching the mountain bikes and get scooters.

2009 Triumph Street Triple: A Transformation

2009-08-07T22:03:00.018-04:00

I'm not adventurous and my habit of pre-judging tends to torpedo new experiences. During the past 35 years at Penn State I can probably count on two hands the number of times I have not ordered chocolate ice cream at the world famous Berkey Creamery. I find something I like and I stick to it. And I draw a lot of conclusions from limited information and experience. It explains why my heart sunk last week when Craig Kissell suggested I try the Triumph Street Triple. I don't ride motorcycles like that. I hate that feet back riding position and I'm not interested in a machine that's described as a streetfighter or referenced along with smoking rear tires and sirens. In my head I knew exactly what this bike was and had no interest in riding one. I know what I like and this wasn't it. While my brain scanned Kissell Motorsports for alternative suggestions what came out of my mouth was, "Sure, I'll take it for a ride.".

Despite being narrow minded about choices I am quick to admit when I'm wrong. Not even a mile down the road I was smiling and telling myself that the Triumph Street Triple was fun. The riding position was different and my big clunky Wolverine boots weren't ideal for the shift level but those were merely minor adjustments waiting to be made. Even though it was fun to ride I was uncertain how it would hold up for a longer ride. By the time the motorcycle was parked in the driveway I was making plans for the next morning.

My body isn't as limber as it once was so before departing the next morning I spent 15 minutes stretching my legs and hips to help me adapt to the riding position which is decidedly more restricted than my Vespa. I was skeptical about how far I could ride comfortably. Since the Street Triple placed me in new, transformational territory, I figured I would add another element to the trip --- I would keep photography to a minimum. No frequents stops to look around and explore. This time I would just ride, chew up miles and have fun solely with the motorcycle. And I managed to spend a minimal amount of time on pictures, usually just making a quick shot when I had to stop to stretch or get gas. The ride was a no frills adventure.

Departure time put me on the road just after sunrise on a clear, mild morning. The first stop was just outside of Centre Hall, Pennsylvania to tie my shoe. And make a quick photo. At this point I was intrigued by the engine and transmission performance. The power was smooth, positive and relentless in any of the six gears available. I was able to manage at slow speeds when necessary and a twist of throttle transformed the Triumph into nothing short of a monster on the road. It's clear this motorcycle is made to move fast and hard down the road. The tires seemed to stick to the road and I could see why some riders may succumb to temptation and enter the riding realm of interest to the State Police.

On PA Route 192 east of Livonia I decide to stop and stretch my legs. I've only gone 32 miles but I'm still concerned that I'm suddenly going to cramp up in the still odd to me riding position. While stopped making the picture a young man in a pickup truck slows to inquire if I require assistance. I'm reminded of how often people have stopped to offer help over the years when I am out in the middle of nowhere making pictures. I guess motorcycles and scooters should be moving, especially so far from town. I give him the thumbs up and he returns the gesture and motors on as I continue on my way east towards the Susquehanna River.

My just ride and not take a lot of pictures plan wasn't perfect. I did putt around (if you call moving slow on the Street Triple putting) R.B. Winter State Park a bit and just had to make a photo as we entered the forest with the morning light streaming in. I'm a sucker for these pictures. Besides, it gave me another chance to see the instrument cluster on the Triumph come to life when I turn on the power--- the fuel system pressurizing and a futuristic sweep of blue lights around the tachometer make me smile as the bike says, "lets go.".

I planned to have breakfast at some yet undiscovered diner along the way. I passed several options in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania preferring to keep riding. I finally pulled off the road at a Pennsylvania Fish Commission launch area on the east side of the Susquehanna River. I needed to sit for a few minutes to to sort out some competing noise in my head. Breakfast was loud, fuel was quiet but persistent, and where I was going was just annoying. Undecided I sat on the Triumph looking for a sign of which way to go as two Harley-Davidson Road Kings roared by. While normally oblivious to other motorcycles on the highway save for offering a friendly wave in passing a light flickered in my head and I pulled onto the road in the direction of the Harleys. Working fast through the gears I closed the distance between us quickly and rode behind them until we reached an intersection where I paused to allow them to regain their independence and privacy. It was an unusual action on my part to chase someone down and I can only attribute it to the power available on this machine. As I sat at the intersection I reevaluated my behavior and made a note that I don't have to act on impulses -- especially on the road.

After adding several gallons of premium fuel to the tank I made a decision to follow the river south towards Harrisburg, a route I've not ridden before, and take the ferry across the river at Millersburg. I acted on impulse again, this time to make an unnecessary photograph of the Triumph outside an abandoned factory in Sunbury. It's how I imagine a Triumph, born in the industrial areas of England where red brick is king. A homage to my idea of a streetfighter.

Another picture, another required stop. This time to replace my gloves for a lighter, cooler, mesh pair of Triumph gloves. With absolutely no luggage space on the Street Triple I carry everything in my pockets -- camera, notebook, pen, extra gloves, cell phone, wallet, and extra ear plugs. Looking down the road at the absence of traffic I am again struck by thoughts of increasing speed. I've reached the breakin mileage point where I can add another 1000 rpms. Then I remember all the deer crossing signs I've passed and the knowledge that Pennsylvania holds the North American record for vehicle deer strikes. As pretty as Bambi is I don't want to run into her. Or him. Managing risk I continue on my way at legal speeds. And still smiling. Any objections I had about this motorcycle have evaporated and I am just enjoying the ride.

No excuses. I just wanted to make a picture. At this point I had ridden almost 90 miles and no longer had any concerns about riding position or seat comfort. Check and check. And I was losing a bit of my will to not make pictures. The photographer in me remains stronger than the rider. So I needed to look at the old Conrail car that someone had gone to the trouble of placing on their property. Couldn't figure out why they would go to such lengths to get it there and then let it decay. Photographically though it was a fine subject.

It was only 8 more miles to Millersburg and the Millersburg Ferry, the only remaining paddle wheel ferry crossing the river. The last time I made use of it was in the 1980s while working on a documentary film about water. On this day the ride across would be purely for pleasure.

The ferry sits along the shore at the bottom of a step dirt drive. I was hoping that the boat would be on my side of the river so I wouldn't have to wait too long to cross. All hope was dashed for a quick crossing when I pulled up and saw a hand written note "Not Working Today". I suppose I should be grateful. The deck looked a little more rickety than I remember and certainly was uneven to park a motorcycle. That sign saved me the unpleasant phone call to Craig Kissell, "You'll never guess where your brand new Triumph is. In the Susquehanna River. Yeah, that's right, the Susquehanna. Can I still have the Scrambler???".

Looking down river towards Harrisburg and the closest bridge at Clarks Ferry I had to make a decision of whether to head south or turn back and go the way I came. Without a map handy I chose to continue south to what had to be a closer crossing. The ferry would have to wait for another day.

Traffic increased as I traveled south and my stomach was making more frequent reminders about breakfast. Without the ferry crossing my time table was a wreck and I wanted to be home before 1pm. The next day was my daughter's wedding and I had some things to think about. So I abandoned plans for a sit down hearty breakfast and opted for the continental cuisine of a Sheetz cheese dog and a bottle of water. Enough fuel for me to get home.

If I had more time I would have chosen a leisurely route home to site see and make more pictures. With the press of time and schedule I chose to follow US Route 322 and see how the Street Triple performed on the 70 mile trip home. The route would provide a limited access busy highway for all but about 7 miles of the trip. While the bike had no problems flowing along with traffic it certainly wasn't at its best being buffeted about with neither fairing or windshield to help diffuse the air disruptions of a steady stream of eighteen wheelers on the road. The bike held it's own but the combination of wind and turbulence demanded a lot of attention at times. It was nice to know that a twist of the throttle would leap the bike forward and beyond things if required.

When I got home I had put just under 200 miles on the Triumph Street Triple, a machine that 24 hours earlier I had no interest in at all. It was a minor transformation and another lesson learned on the road, this one about judging books by their covers. The Street Triple obviously has the power and design to live up to its streetfighter reputation. But I found that it is just as accommodating to a non-streetfighting rider. And it is fun, really fun to ride. It may not be the all-around bike for my daily riding requirements but it may be for someone else who has no interest in farm lanes and forest roads. On the street, it's in its element.

2009 Kawasaki KLR 650: A Ride in the Fog

2009-08-04T00:41:00.021-04:00

Finally, the first long ride on a Kawasaki KLR 650. Long an occupant of an imaginary world that finds me breaking out across empty deserts or untracked tundra in a never ending life of adventure. The fantasy roots in the same place that gave rise to my dreams of the Triumph Bonneville. After a near perfect experience on the Triumph I remembered the old adage that lighting never strikes twice in the same place. My expectations of the KLR were guarded.

Morning fog delighted the photographer but triggered concern for the rider. With limited experience on the tall KLR I spent some time weighing risk before finally heading down the road at 6:30am. The fog wasn't thick but quickly managed to cover my visor with dew while the inside began to fog. Cracking the visor open to allow air inside only succeeded in rendering my eyeglasses unusable. I've ridden on many foggy mornings but this was the first time I had serious visibility concerns. While making the photograph of the Kawasaki parked in the farm lane I was hatching a plan to get the shiny new motorcycle to the closest diner or coffee shop in one piece and wait for the sun to clear the road. I made plans to ride back to town and abandon any adventuring, at least for the next couple hours.

Another stop to clear my vision and make a photograph. With all the start and stop riding the KLR starts flawlessly with a touch of the starter button when warm and starts just as easily first thing in the morning with a flick of the handlebar mounted choke. If nothing else I was getting plenty of practice in creating muscle memory for the starting procedures.

Being more interested in riding than sitting a thinning of the fog was all I needed to continue on my journey out of town. My mind was plotting courses but I wasn't finding much excitement. The more I try and force a ride the less inspired they usually are. So I just gave myself over to the KLR and let it lead the way. At least until I realized I didn't know how much fuel I had on board.

There are few old mom and pop gas stations anymore and the ones I do see I'm not sure I want to pump their gas into my tank. So I pull into one of the modern Sheetz centers and put two gallons of premium in the tank. I forgot to ask when I picked up the motorcycle about the octane requirement. Premium would cover all bases. There was a bit of sunshine peeking through the fog and I made the decision to jump on the expressway west to get onto the Allegheny Plateau and some winding rural roads fast. And have a chance to see how the Kawasaki would perform at freeway speeds.

Up and out of the fog I found myself in a brief island of sunshine at the top of Bald Eagle Ridge. The KLR has plenty of power to move along at highway speeds though I did find myself wishing for a sixth gear though with the tachometer indicating just over 4000 rpm at 65 mph. A twist of the throttle would move the speedometer up quickly if necessary. The fairing and small windshield did a nice job keeping the ride comfortable. For me at least. I kind of like a blast of wind in the chest. Intermittent fog keep my speed in a safe place and my eyes constantly searching ahead and behind for vehicles oblivious to the decline in visibility.

Riding up onto the Allegheny Plateau west of Port Matilda I was was pleased to have clear skies and excellent visibility. I stopped hoping to find the perfect picture of the motorcycle along the road with a fog bank in the valley below. No such luck -- the fog burned bright from sunlight. I was a couple hours too late for that shot. Moving west on US 322 the fog returned along with an increase in traffic. A respite appeared in the form of a gravel road.

The Kawasaki KLR thrives on roads like these -- hard packed gravel and dirt that crisscross the forested heart of Pennsylvania. And that's why this machine fits my riding desires so well. I like to explore. I want to see what's down all those little roads and paths that veer off the pavement. And I want to explore the paved ones too. I know the KLR can support big rides, cross country rides that make epic, once in a lifetime journeys for some, or even once a year tours for others. Time and circumstance aren't stacked up for me right now to make those kinds of trips. Besides, I like to ride too much to live for infrequent vacations on two-wheels. I want to go now, right here, in my landscape. The more I see the more I realize remains to see. And with the KLR I'll be limited only by my own skill and drive.

The aggressive tread on the Dunlop tires are remarkably sticky even on the wet pavement. A little further experimentation with the brakes to see where wheel lock occurs gives me a lot more confidence on the tall bike. Stopping here to make a picture also revealed the need for me to exercise and stretch. By this point I had already been on and off the bike as many times as some riders might do in a week. Definitely need to revisit my physical conditioning. Why is it every time I think of physical condition I end up with bacon?

Breakfast at The Little Restaurant in Philipsburg will do nothing to enhance my ability to get on the KLR. I'm remembering the process of getting on a horse as a kid. It involved a little work. At 55 I'm working a bit to get on the KLR. It's worth it. It's a modern horse and I can go where I want.

After breakfast I'm uncertain of where to go next. Looking around I think I need to return to Philipsburg again for another meal with Paul. And then explore some of the other towns for additional food sources. The Kawasaki sounds pretty good starting up. I tend to like things quiet and routinely ride with earplugs, even with the Vespa, but do admire the big single cylinder engine. Pulling away the sound of the chain, transmission and engine all come together in a mechanical symphony that is pleasing to my ears. At the next stop I remove the earplugs to listen a little closer.

More dirt and gravel roads as I move through Black Moshannon State Park and Moshannon State Forest. With each passing mile my confidence grows in the motorcycle and my skills with it. The big tires deliver a solid, steady ride on the gravel roads. There is a lot to see if you have time to look.

At each successive stop the KLR feels more maneuverable. The time it takes to stop and park the bike is quicker. More mental energy is going into where to park rather than how to park. And I am loving the giant foot on the kickstand. Other than really soft ground I don't have concerns that the kickstand will sink down and drop the bike. Nice touch. No need to carry around a flattened beer can.

Wild trout live in this stream. Back at the main highway I saw a fisherman wading with fly rod in hand, focused on his passion in much the same way I was. The red flowers of the wild bee balm caught my eye. I'm glad I took a moment to climb down the back to the stream and make a picture. I don't do it enough when I'm riding. I look but seem to reserve the camera for the road and whatever I'm riding.

The morning is slipping away towards afternoon and I head towards home. I wasn't exactly sure where I was on the gravel roads but had a general idea of which direction I needed to go. Back on the pavement I put the KLR through it's last paces of the day by abandoning any further photography and just concentrated on riding. The Kawasaki was surprisingly agile in curves and responded with a kind of throaty rumble when I would twist on some throttle. The motorcycle had plenty left when I got to my riding limits. Just keep in mind that I'm not good but I am slow. I had a few chuckles earlier in the week reading an account of my Triumph riding that thought I did a little too much slow riding.

Slow riding, slow travel. I suppose that's what I am about. It fits my needs with camera and my desire to generally slow down my life. The Kawasaki, while perfectly able to lead a frenetic pace on or off the road, is equally comfortable carrying me along at my pace. It's a fine horse. A horse that I'd be content to ride for a long time.

If I had any concerns it was the fact that in a day or so I would be returning the KLR to Kissell Motorsports.

2009 Kawasaki KLR 650: Night Stop

2009-08-02T22:08:00.004-04:00

Took a very short ride this evening on the KLR to get a feel for the headlights and how it feels on the road at night. Very nice ride. Made this photograph at 10pm.

For irondad: 25 seconds at F4, ISO 1250.

Stopped at the Pennsylvania Military Museum to make a photo of the bike. I was prepared -- had a little tripod and a flashlight with me. Even though this looks like some sort of weird daylight it was extremely dark and I needed the flashlight to see what I was doing. Learned a few things about night shots. A clear, cloudless sky will appear darker in the picture and the stars will show up.

And don't shoot when the moon is almost full. That is what causes those backlit shadows.

I'm working a a longer post about this bike. The executive summary-- I want a KLR. I knew I would like it but I didn't know how much. And probably for none of the reasons most KLR riders choose them. I'll put that post up on Monday evening.

2009 Kawasaki KLR 650: First Evening Ride

2009-07-31T18:35:00.008-04:00

A gray, wet day seems an appropriate backdrop for a ride on a Kawasaki KLR 650, the next bike in the New Wheels in the Sticks project. The KLR has been on my mental radar for a long time as a sort of utilitarian do anything motorcycle. The Jeep of the two wheeled world. There is something satisfying in thinking there is nothing I could not do or place I could not go. Thanks to Kissell Motorsports I'll have the opportunity over the next few days to take the Kawasaki out on the road and see how it feels.

There wasn't much time to ride today, just a long loop around the valley to get a feel for how the big machine handles. I say big because the first thing I noticed was how tall the KLR is. I mean really tall. At just under 6'3" tall I felt like I was barely able to touch the ground. In reality I had no problem flat-footing the bike but it felt pretty high for the first 20 minutes until I became accustomed to it.

The past two bikes I've ridden had fuel injected engines and I have gotten used to just pressing the starter button and go. The KLR wanted me to give it a little fuel before it would start. And it wants me to open the fuel valve and even give it a choke when cold. The perplexed look on my face passed quickly as memories flooded back.

Like each new machine I ride I find a lonesome road to test out the brakes and stopping characteristics. In addition to clean, positive braking it was nice to know the aggressive tread on the tires worked well on the damp and wet pavement. The 650cc single cylinder thumper engine was a new experience. I intentionally didn't use my normal foam earplugs so I could get used to the sounds the KLR makes. I like to have some idea of what sounds right and what doesn't.

Didn't really have time for much riding this evening but I'm planning to leave early tomorrow to see how I like this big, tall motorcycle out in the sticks.

2009 Triumph Bonneville: Image, Myth and Ride

2009-07-29T19:08:00.003-04:00

Why do I like this motorcycle so much?

I had to make a picture of the two of us to figure it out. Image. Part of the fascination with the Triumph Bonneville is the way it looks and the way I think I look with it. Let's say it allows me to pretend a part of me is like some of my boyhood heros on motorcycles. In an alley in downtown State College, Pennsylvania I found a location that reminded me of the urban landscapes that I pictured the Triumph. That's about as rough as it gets here. The back door of the Eddie Bauer store. But that is only part of the fascination with the motorcycle. There is a lot more to it than image and myth.

An early morning ride through familiar terrain gave me a chance to compare solitary riding on the Triumph Bonneville to the experience on my Vespa. My intent on the scooter is an unfolding of tension and disposal of noise gathered in my head through the week, an ongoing meditation on two wheels and I was anxious to determine whether I could achieve the same thing on the Triumph. Despite it's ability to charge down the road it was perfectly able to deliver a relaxed journey, a simple flight along these rural roads. Turning off the road onto a farm lane just to admire the morning light may not be typical Triumph riding fare but in a hectic world it is nothing short of magical. For me. Thundering down the road can wait until another day.

Final thoughts on the Triumph Bonneville. I want one. It's simple, elegant construction embraces my desire for a simpler life. The classic lines and design trigger the same motorcycle wanderlust now that I felt as a teenager wishing I owned something like this. On the road it handled flawlessly and never left me feeling unsure or unsafe. While it's power is seductive and speed deceptive a bit of mental adjustment on my part as a rider made this motorcycle mine to command.

Did I say I want one?

I returned the bike to Kissell Motorsports and I have to admit the childish part of my brain kept imagining Craig Kissell saying, "Aww heck, just keep it a while longer..." But there are more motorcycles to experiment with and so little time...

A Vicarious Ride on a Classic Triumph

2009-07-29T17:00:00.002-04:00

Riding in Alabama - 74 Triumph Bonneville..still running strong from Casey Lee on Vimeo.

Stumbled on this video completely by accident. Took me back to the sounds and sights of my youth. Thought it was worth sharing...

Prisoner of Light

2009-07-28T17:38:00.002-04:00

I remain photographically constricted because of my belief that dramatic light is an essential ingredient for a good photograph. In practice I photograph in all kinds of light and in the rainbow picture I made last week on a ride into town I see evidence that dramatic light does not make a dramatic picture. My brain tells me that good pictures are everywhere and do not require any formula of essential elements. But whispering deeper is some stilted, stunted core level belief in dramatic light. Perhaps it is a result of early exposure to Ansel Adams and Edward Weston. Wherever it came from it has an effect on my decision making. I am a prisoner of my own beliefs.

On clear days I often leave early to catch the low light which can render objects and landscapes in more dramatic fashion than the middle part of the day. I'm certain this plays a partial role in my habit of riding at dawn. Even if I am not making pictures I want to see the world change. Color and texture change rapidly in the morning. Spaces are more clearly defined. Last Saturday morning I put my Mamiya 7 camera in the Vespa and headed towards the mountains to make photographs. Not far from home I stopped to look at the road and the brightness beginning to consume it. The little point and shoot Canon camera makes recording these moments simply as my own visual sketching.

The transition from motorcycle back to scooter was invisible. The ride of the Vespa is plush; even on gravel. I've become more accustomed to riding on these forest roads and always find a sense of quiet satisfaction being able to move beneath the trees. And it didn't matter if I was not inclined to bring out the film camera.

Those of you familiar with Rothrock State Forest may recognize the switchbacks on the road to Little Flat. It's narrow and can be unnerving when the inattentive driver comes barreling down the hill in a truck or SUV. I would not want to attempt any off-road riding here.

Several stops to search for non-scooter pictures didn't reveal anything I cared to spend film on. The process was underway and by the next day had finished a new roll of Ilford black and white film. After digging through my desk I now have a total of four rolls awaiting the darkroom treatment. On this day though my thoughts turned (as always) to food. The Pump Station Cafe was only a few miles away.

Riding a scooter tends to offer some parking alternatives that a motorcycle does not. My Vespa is small enough to park right in front of the cafe on a little sidewalk. It looks like it belongs there. At least that's what I tell myself. While eating I jot notes on an index card about my troubles getting my head back into shooting pictures. I don't count the things I do for Scooter in the Sticks or at work. I judge myself, perhaps wrongly, by the photographs I make solely for myself. I hit these dry spells now and again and I just need to wade through them. Get past my thinking and get closer to doing.

And quit being a prisoner of light.