Scooter in the Sticks

The Senses of Riding

2012-01-24T22:49:00.000-05:00

A dog may not reflect a connection to riding to the casual observer, the connoisseur of mechanical marvel, or the unwashed masses who see riders as fools with a death wishes as they talk on their cellphones. My dog Junior, like my Vespa, bring me into the world, cause me to move forward, at this time of year through resistance and doubt only to emerge at the other end of a trip with a profound sense of satisfaction. Like a dog, eyes, ears, nose, they're all turned on, alert and scanning the world.

The Vespa almost always comes after the dog. Biology trumps engineering.

A ride to work, on an errand, or just an unplanned and aimless trip to no where in particular is much like he morning walk -- senses attuned to the world, sights to see, and that feeling of motion, flying in this instance, but motion both figuratively and literally. It's a potent medicine.

And always there's arrivals. A place, a sight, a location. In cold weather I relish in an almost unnatural way the heat and steam of a cup of tea as no other drink has ever provoked. And again, the senses are focused keen like a sharp knife on every sound and motion, sight and smell. All lost on the non-rider? How would I know?

There are the grand sights and the small ones. When riding to work or on little journies from one task to the next a person takes things as they come. Standing at a coffee shop counter I spy the tulips across the room in the window. I'm certain, had I arrived in the van, my mind would be elsewhere and I'd never have seen them.

Thank you ride.

Joe Paterno: 1926 - 2012

2012-01-22T12:25:00.001-05:00

Joe Paterno died at 9:25am today at the Mt. Nittany Medical Center where he'd been hospitalized since January 13 due to complications from the chemotherapy he was was undergoing for lung cancer. I've seen Coach Paterno often walking back and forth from his home to his office since coming to Penn State in 1972.

The Paterno family released this statement shortly after his passing:

It is with great sadness that we announce that Joe Paterno passed away earlier today. His loss leaves a void in our lives that will never be filled.

He died as he lived. He fought hard until the end, stayed positive, thought only of others and constantly reminded everyone of how blessed his life had been. His ambitions were far reaching, but he never believed he had to leave this Happy Valley to achieve them. He was a man devoted to his family, his university, his players and his community.

He has been many things in his life – a soldier, scholar, mentor, coach, friend and father. To my mother he was and is her soul mate, and the last several weeks have shown the strength of their love. To his children and grandchildren he is a shining example of how to live a good, decent and honest life, a standard to which we aspire.

When he decided to forego a career in law and make coaching his vocation, his father Angelo had but one command: Make an impact.

As the last 61 years have shown, Joe made an incredible impact. That impact has been felt and appreciated by our family in the form of thousands of letters and well wishes along with countless acts of kindness from people whose lives he touched. It is evident also in the thousands of successful student athletes who have gone on to multiply that impact as they spread out across the country.

And so he leaves us with a peaceful mind, comforted by his “living legacy” of five kids, 17 grandchildren, and hundreds of young men whose lives he changed in more ways than can begin to be counted.

In lieu of flowers or gifts, the family requests that donations be made to the Special Olympics of Pennsylvania or the Penn State-THON, The Penn State IFC/Panhellenic Dance Marathon.

Riding Interruption Due to Snow

2012-01-21T12:04:00.000-05:00

A fresh snowfall overnight -- just four or five inches but enough for me to opt out of riding today. I've ridden in this kind of situation before but only to prove I could or to test out my winter tires when I bought them. With nothing to prove to myself the angels of my better nature reminded me of how greatly the speed differential is between four-wheeled vehicles and two-wheeled vehicles in snow. Seems like every SUV owner feels they can drive even faster in snow because they have four-wheel drive. And on a motorcycle or scooter, well, you know how slow you have to go in snow if you've tried it.

So I'll stay home and admire the landscape.

And walk Junior. He and I did a trip to the park so he could tear around in the snow, seek out other dogs to play with, and try not to lose the ball in the snow. Succeeded in every objective.

All that's left now is to lie on the couch and get fat...

Snow Equals Minivan

2012-01-20T08:21:00.000-05:00

The view when I stepped out of my office last night. Wasn't riding the Vespa then and not today either as another three inches of snow dropped overnight. More forecast for tonight.

Putting on my mathematician's hat I've calculated that snow = minivan. Or the more complex expression: Oh well...

My Own Private Insanity

2012-01-18T21:27:00.000-05:00

Riding in the winter is my own private insanity. I do it over and over again with the same results.

In more serious moments, like this evening, standing in the parking lot at work, looking at the darkening sky, wondering how dry the road would be, asking myself which route to take to minimize automotive pressure to rush and I'm left wondering (again) if I'm not being just a bit foolish.

This morning I almost left the Vespa in the garage; a quick look out the window revealed some dusting of snow from the previous night. Walking through the driveway I realized how much ice might remain on untreated surfaces. For those of you in warm climates read that surfaces without metal eating salt.

I don't remember the decision making process. The 29F temperature didn't matter so I must have assumed (rightly) that the roads would be clear and remain so throughout the day. What I didn't count on was being at work late and riding home in the dark.

Mental calculations are quick in the cold -- gear in place, road surface acceptable, traffic thinning, visibility good. But there are things I forget. Aggravations at night, in the cold, with visor constantly fogging and the glare of headlights making it hard to assess the road ahead for deer, living or dead, chunks of firewood, on an unfortunate instance of ice, I asked myself again, "What the hell?"

With a smile.

The ride home was uneventful save for some beautiful instances of a landscape under a dying light. And of course, there is always, every time, a rather potent feeling of accomplishment that doesn't show itself in warm air.

Is it worth the trouble, discomfort and risk? Maybe only in my own private insanity.

Decision Making

2012-01-16T22:09:00.000-05:00

A frosty beard on Junior should be a strong enough indication that the Vespa should stay in garage. Still, I was running scenarios through my head from the time I woke up. The Weather.com app indicated 13F and clear skies -- certainly not a show stopper. Looking ahead the forecast showed ice and snow moving in around 6pm. I've heard that story before only to find snow falling three hours early.

Thirty minutes of dog action chilled my body sufficiently that the luster of riding to work wore off. All the ride variations and rationalizations were reduced to "I'm too cold to get on the Vespa."

Good thing too. The little ice balls started falling around 4pm...

Gerbing Electric Gloves: A Pleasant Surprise

2012-01-09T22:48:00.001-05:00

My electric gloves are dead. They died a slow death over the past couple months but last week during an 8F morning ride I knew they were done.

My friend Paul gave them to me for Christmas in 2007 and in the subsequent four years they have seen a lot of use; probably more than most riders ever use them. I wrote of that joy in a post titled 18F and Gerbing Electric Gloves.

As I was preparing to toss them in the trash I decided to check to see if the heating elements could be repaired. Or even easier a bad connector. Being of sound mind I retrieved a little used multimeter from the toolbox and set to work to determine if something was wrong with the gloves themselves or the connector coming from the battery.

A strong arc on one of the probes indicated to me that I was getting power to the connector so I abandoned that line of research.

A quick continuity check on the gloves themselves indicated failures in both. Checking for repair service on Gerbing's web site indicated a lifetime warranty on the heating elements. A LIFETIME WARRANTY!

My sense of joy was dashed when I read that I would have needed to register the purchase four years earlier.

Shit -- I never register anything. Still, I had to try.

An extremely pleasant voice answered the phone at Gerbing customer service. I described the problem and asked about repair service since I knew I hadn't registered the gloves. When the woman on the other end of the line said she would check in the database to see if I was registered I knew I was done. A new Aerostich catalog had just arrived, maybe they have some new electric gloves.

"Steve Williams" I sheepishly responded when asked for my name.

"Gee, we have a lot of Steve Williams's in our database." she replied.

Williams is a terrible name to have if you're trying to get a handgun or wade through registrations of any type. The first because mostly we're criminals and second because there are so many of us.

"What state do you live in?" was her next question.

When I answered she proceeded to recite my address, phone number, place of employment, blood type, sexual preference and favorite chocolate. I looked out the window and thought I saw the sunrise.

"Holy shit," I thought. "I must have registered the gloves."

Great news from Gerbing. They gave me a return number and said they would either restore the gloves to their previous toasty state or replace them with a brand new pair.

A real surprise to someone who is always expecting to get ripped off at every turn by capitalists everywhere except for L.L. Bean and Walmart. Always bring Vaseline to Best Buy.

So the gloves are now in Tumwater, Washington and I am roughing it with conventional gloves until they return. So far the temperature hasn't dropped below 25F, easily managed for the comute to work. But longer rides will have me on my knees praying at the muffler.

Still, I'm a happy camper. I'm getting something for free!

Memory, Loss and the Power of Photography

2012-01-03T21:51:00.000-05:00

Memories are more valuable that gold. At least to me. As time passes I find them more and more precious. Memory drives me to make photographs, a tool to capture fleeting moments and restore them to fullness in my mind later. Photography has a special power.

This morning I read the following tweet by @timmoolmanphoto

Don't underestimate the value of what you do.“@jeremycowart: MUST read for photographers. http://fototails.wordpress.com/2012/01/02/a-letter-on-my-doorstep-portraits-are-more-than-paper/” @kikiphoto

For those of you who don't speak Twitter don't worry, I'll translate. Tim Moolman identified a link to photographer Jeanine Thurston's blog Fototails Photography.

The post titled, "A letter on my door step. portraits are more than paper." is one of the most powerful messages about the simple power of pictures I have ever read. It talks about photography as it relates to normal, everyday life. Not the drama of war or famine or exotic locations. Just life in the way most of us will embrace it.

Take a moment and read it. She posted it yesterday and it already has over 500 comments.

It's short. It's sad. It's a potent reminder of what is important in life.

A New Year, Another Ride, and Another 3 Prints Project Meeting

2012-01-01T15:20:00.000-05:00

Downtown State College, Pennsylvania on New Year's Day. The ice sculpture remnants from First Night glistening in the morning sun. The first day of the year was mild for the beginning of January. Almost no snow so far this winter. A nice way to begin 2012. Riding, I was thinking about resolutions. About not making any.

Leica M6 in tow and a box of black & white prints on hand Gordon and I started the year with new prints. Our 3 Prints Project agreement is to show up each week having exposed two rolls of film and three new prints. It's a tough assignment amidst a busy life.

As part of my avoidance of making resolutions I was reading those of others. Joe Crivelli, author of No Baffles motorcycle blog, had a good set of resolutions for riders titled New Year's Resolutions -- Motorcycle Related. Good reminders for the road.

Mandoo is a regular at Starbucks. He and Junior have met on several occasions and have a genial relationship. Junior could learn a lot from Mandoo. On command he will sing, or more specifically, utter a long lonely howl. Seems like an important part of growing up canine.

On the subject of learning I can across a list of lessons learned during the past year written by Bobbi Newman, author of Librarian by Day. Her list is a good reminder of some of the important things in life and is titled "Looking Back: The 5 Most Valuable Lessons I Learned (or Re-Learned) in 2011".

3 Prints Project: January 1, 2012

Last week on a morning walk through town. Shadows and road markings always catch my attention.

Kim makes a lot of photographs with her digital camera with an intensity that I admire and wish I had. She sees things I miss because I am hurrying on to the next subject.

The front window at Saint's. People seem to get lost in things within those walls.

I'm carrying the Leica M6, there's a roll of film in my pocket, and have a few project ideas in my head. A good start to a new year.

Happy New Year!

Suffering and Joy

2011-12-30T20:24:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, when desire meets reality, you come face to face with suffering. Most recently it was unexpected physical discomfort related to the cold and my newly arthritic feet. Out early yesterday with the temperature hovering around 20F should have been like a walk in the park. Instead I was served a big bite of suffering.

Looking back I can see how my love of winter has decayed into a state of annoyed acceptance that it's a fact of life in central Pennsylvania. This first cold ride of the season really surprised me and has me wondering how much cold I can tolerate. A question every year round rider wrestles with at some point.

After an hour I planted myself in Starbucks to hold a paper cup full of hot chocolate in my hands, let my feet warm, and scribble a few notes on index cards about the challenges ahead. I wrote "Suffering" at the top of the first card intending to post under that title. But things have a way of changing.

The iPhone vibrated on the table displaying an image of my friend Gordon. He and his wife Val bought their 14 year old son a .22 rifle for Christmas, a Ruger 10/22. Nice gun. And since he had never shot a gun before he asked if I could go with them to the local shooting range and get them started. I remember the .22 rifle my father got for me around the same age and the joy I found going out with him to plink away at tin cans.

Funny how warm some of my memories are related to weapons.

Last time I fired a gun at this range was in the early 1970s when a serendipitous encounter with gun dealer led to firing thousands of round of ammunition via an array of automatic weapons. My first experience with a Thompson sub machine gun, M16, UZI, and an Ingram MAC-10 with a suppressor. I learned two things. Automatic weapons are fun to shoot. Loading magazines isn't. It's an interesting story that I'll share someday.

Gordon's son wasn't the only one surprised on Christmas morning. Gordon's wife Val gave him a pair of riding gloves and some scooter brochures. The meaning is obvious. More joy at Christmas.

Went riding again today with no suffering. Suppose there is a yin and yang to it all. Didn't realize polar forces of opposite strength were at work in my riding life -- the suffering and the joy.

The Cold Weather Riding Frame of Mind

2011-12-28T16:40:00.000-05:00

A morning drive, minivan, on the way to pick up my Vespa GTS. But not until I pick up my daughter who's agreed to drive the van home.

Not until we have breakfast at the Corner Room in State College, Pennsylvania, a place I've been eating at for the past 40 years. When I find something I like I stick with it. Training for an upcoming half marathon accounts for her wet hair. I don't understand running.

The scooter is home, safe in the driveway again. The ride home was cold, 25F and windy. Neglected to plug in the electric gloves and found myself warming my hands on the headlight at each traffic light. Like the old days. The pre-Gerbing gloves days.

Riding in the cold takes mental preparation that I've not done yet. It's more than gear, it's a frame of mind that a rider has to place themselves in. And right now it seems a far away place.

Left the scooter in the driveway thinking I would go for a ride later -- after I warmed up. I've been warming up for hours and am no closer to a ride. In another hour it will be dark and even colder. Maybe a good night's sleep will help me enter the cold weather frame of mind.

Vespa Maintenance

2011-12-27T18:18:00.000-05:00

My Vespa is nearly ready for the road again. Snow tires mounted, drive-belt and rollers replaced, new spark plug, wire, and cap, oil and filter changed, everything ready to hit the road. Aaron Grove, the technician at Kissell Motorsports who was working on the scooter, showed me the faulty plug and cap. Somehow the threaded end of the plug stripped out and fused itself in the cap of the plug wire. Not sure how it happened but with the new parts I should have another 30K kilometers of trouble free riding.

At least.

Aaron is a year round rider like me which meant he understood why my exhaust system was so heavily rusted. You ride in the winter with salt on the road and things happen to metal. He rides a vintage, (I think I can call it that) 1970s Honda CB400. Raining hard outside he assured me that he would have ridden to work if the bike wasn't apart in his garage. I'll have to keep my eye open for him this winter.

Most of the work was finished when I arrived but it was nice to watch a skilled craftsman work. Aaron has a confident manner as he methodically moves through a task. I watched him connect the battery leads and Battery Tender wires with a speed I can only dream about. Not a single curse word to be heard. That's probably just one of the differences between a professional and myself.

Almost had me wishing I would take the time to reacquaint myself with the tools in my tool chest. Someday. Just not today.

Snow showers forecast for tomorrow with the temperature hovering near the freezing mark. If all goes well I should be riding the Vespa late tomorrow morning. It's about time I got back on the road.

I keep telling myself that but with a week off for the holidays I am getting pretty comfortable laying on the couch...

Searching for the Christmas Spirit

2011-12-25T18:58:00.000-05:00

A week ago I borrowed a motorcycle from the selection of pre-owned machines of Kissell Motorsports --a 2005 BMW F650 GS. I’ll often find myself looking at their web site listings or trolling eBay for the quintessential deal. For a lot of riders a used motorcycle is the best route into the world of riding. And during those rides I found myself thinking about Christmas.

Junior and I walked in the park this morning to the tolling of bells from a nearby church, announcing Christmas Day. Blue sky, bright sun and the temperature pushing forty degrees doesn’t feel like Christmas.

I’ve been thinking about Christmas all week, trying to bring to life those feelings I had as a kid when Santa Claus was real. Memories of candle light services on Christmas Eve singing Silent Night, the anticipation of presents under a tree seem to fade away a bit more every year. Charles Dickens wrote that Christmas can, “...win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home.”. Maybe that’s what I was looking for.

Roaming the countryside on a motorcycle often fuels a flood of thinking. I found my thoughts leaning towards the past, to things that would not come again. Each stop along the road seemed to trigger a memory of Christmas time. Each memory bringing another, and another.

Looking at motorcycles (when you tend to obsess about them) isn’t a lot different than coveting a BB gun or some other must have item of childhood. The evening I picked up the BMW was like that -- the proverbial kid in the candy store -- so many things to desire.

A festive red Ducati should feel like Christmas shouldn't it?

Or certainly a pink Vespa would conjure some sort of magic if only given a chance. But maybe what the Grinch said is true: "Maybe Christmas, the Grinch thought, doesn't come from a store."

The pink Vespa will have to wait for another day along with the Triumph Tiger 800 XC and the flat screen TV I was thinking about.

The BMW F650 GS in its 2005 incarnation is a marvelously nimble motorcycle on the gravel roads that crisscross the central Pennsylvania forests. Aggressive knobby tires provide a surefooted ride at speeds I don’t normally attempt in these environs. The bike is completely comfortable from the start.

I felt like Charlie Brown. Christmas time is coming and I don’t feel the way I’m supposed to feel. Or at least that was what I was thinking. Riding through beautiful landscapes I can’t quite appreciate because I’m searching for the Christmas spirit. The little red-haired girl is waiting at home for me, my black dog too, and here I was along a creek, watching the cold, clear water sweep by and nothing. I’m blessed but don’t quite appreciate it.

The F650 GS leads me to the Pump Station Cafe in Boalsburg where I can appreciate a cup of tea and a scone, and the blessings of the motorcycle's heated grips when I take out my journal to write. BMW has great heated grips. They feel hot even through thick winter riding gloves.

I suppose there is no connection between riding and Christmas save for the incidental juxtaposition of machine and iconography. But I did find that missing Christmas spirit.

Last night family and friends gathered on Christmas Eve, for fellowship and food, to spend time together and acknowledge what's special this time of year. Maybe it just becomes more difficult to see past all the wrappings and tinsel to the meaning of Christmas, a time of transformation and forgiveness where, for a time, the world is a more gentle place.

Merry Christmas to all and best wishes for the holidays.

A Sunday Afternoon Ride

2011-12-18T21:37:00.001-05:00

Despite the cold it was good to get out for a ride this afternoon. I don't watch enough sunsets; my life can be filled with chores and tasks. On this ride I stopped to smell the roses.

An hour earlier I stopped for another reason -- to search for a view of a local landmark. I rode the 2005 BMW F650 GS I had on loan from Kissell Motorsports up a winding, muddy path through a small patch of woods and stopped as it led into an expansive hayfield. Less than a minute after arriving the farmer who owned the property sped towards me on an ATV with a look of displeasure on his face.

After an apology for trespassing and explaining what I was doing we determined that I had photographed him before. Back in 1984. He said he still has the picture of he and his dog in his home. Just one of the serendipitous moments on the road.

Later in the ride I crossed through land owned my Penn State as I searched for light sweeping out of the sky in what I like to call "God light" -- those instances when the light is drawn in beams from the heavens. Never did find the right spot but was impressed by the performance of the BMW. First bike I've ridden in years with real knobby tires. Makes a world of difference in gravel. And mud.

I've put some time on this bike and will post more about it later in the week. A lot of good values in the pre-owned category with this being one of them. Liked it a lot.

Junior is barking outside so I can't write more. Tired and drained. No stories or words left for today. Just a few pleasant memories of a Sunday afternoon ride...

The Aging Rider

2011-12-10T20:10:00.000-05:00

My father used to tell me “It’s hell to get old”. I’m beginning to understand and move that comment from the joke category in my brain to the section reserved for current events. My friend Gordon recently made this picture of me at one of our Sunday morning print meetings and I see my father. And I’m saying to myself “It’s hell to get old”.

Standing at the kitchen sink last night with a handful of Methotrexate I realized something had changed. Almost overnight I’ve traveled from oblivious through denial and on into acceptance that I’ve become an aging rider and with it all the rights and responsibilities attendant to a change in physical ability.

A week ago I was standing in a hospital gown with my back to a wall while two rheumatologists at Johns Hopkins Medical Center recorded measurements of joint flexibility, pain and range of motion, and finally confirming the diagnosis of my family doctor -- “You have psoriatic arthritis Mr. Williams.”

Great.

Aging is a natural, nearly invisible process until it isn’t. And one day a light is turned on and you realize some new limitation has formed, some new element to be managed. And it reaches out to every detail and aspect of living and informs a new life. It branded me an aging rider.

Men live in denial though. I can't speak for women.

Two months ago I was deep in it, telling myself that my arthritis would have no effect on my riding. Sitting astride the Vespa was easy and I could ride all day but stopping was another story. The joints in my toes were on fire and walking was a problem. Pushing the scooter onto the centerstand was a challenge. And walking to make a photograph along this winding gravel road in Rothrock State Forest was near torture.

But I ignored it and pushed onwards in the rain.

I see pictures when I ride and especially ones where the scooter plays a role. Standing some distance away from the Vespa, thinking about this shot, I was regretting wandering so far from the seated comfort of my ride. Not yet thinking of myself as an aging rider I rode on.

Fear of aging generates denial. It takes time to acknowledge the fear and more time to understand what the march of time means. Personal dishonesty in this area can lead to bad decisions. An acquaintance comes to mind -- a fellow in his early 70’s who purchased his first motorcycle two years ago -- a Harley Davidson Ultra Glide. He had never ridden before but was persuaded by a friend that he would love riding.

Whenever I run into him I ask if he still has the Harley. His face lights up and he responds with a bright “Sure do!”. What I’m careful not to ask is if he rides it (which I’m sure he doesn’t) Not long after his purchase he discovered that riding a big motorcycle is not an innate skill and after a few scary moments on the road he parked it in the garage for good.

Denial is a wonderful thing and is helpful in making irrational decisions. I’m not saying a 70 year old can’t ride but I might suggest a different path to the road for a first time rider of any age. The accumulation of years (and wisdom) will quickly raise its case in these kinds of situations.

Back on the road I continued to ride and find opportunities for more pictures. Picking my way through the rocks on sore feet finally illuminated my limitations. I was going to have to change the way I think about my capabilities.

The Death Equation.

I like to think that I’m not the only one doing death mathmatics in their head -- calculating the difference in years between your current age and the age of your father or grandfather when they died. I can’t remember when I started doing this but it’s definitely related to aging and a growing awareness of the finite number of days at my disposal. I should add that it’s not depressing or obsessive but a result of an awareness and acceptance of my mortality. And fueled by my latest medical adventure.

Right now the only thing keeping me from riding to work is the fact that the Vespa is in for service. I postponed the work until a time I can meet with the technician to photograph him for a blog post. But soon the scooter will be parked again outside my office like it is in this picture expect the sportbikes will cease to appear as winter descends.

In the meantime Junior continues to keep me busy though our walks have diminished in favor of drives to the part where I can stand in one place and heave the ball across the field for him. He’s a potent reminder of the mobility that I have lost for now. He’s always in motion. I’m always.... not.

The change is something new to manage. Like rain or snow or darkness. As I assess routes and weather I now have to assess my physical state. Reading the current issue of the BMW Owners News I’m impressed by the number of aged riders piling up tens of thousands of miles every year. During murky thoughts it helps remind me that the passing of years doesn’t have to relegate me to the rocking chair, or worse, a trike. Actually, I’ve never ridden a trike. Experience has shown me that I really need to try something before judging it harshly.

A shiver of excitement swept over me as I stood in the road with the Leica. Despite any current physical ailments the road still rolled on ahead. There are more rides to make and things to see. And I'll view these rides through a new filter...

...as an aging rider.

My Dead Vespa

2011-11-28T20:09:00.002-05:00

It happened today -- pressed the starter on the Vespa but it would not start. First thought was an empty fuel tank but that couldn't be true; I monitor fuel closely.

With Kissell Motorsports a mile away and pressure mounting to get back to work I made the call. Fifteen minutes later the scooter was on the back of a truck headed to the shop.

Good fortune had my friend Paul and his girlfriend Mary just down the road.

In a few minutes Paul was inspecting the Vespa and quickly found the spark plug lead had come off the plug. Worse, the end of the plug had come off and was lodge in the plug boot.

So the Vespa will get a new plug along with the 30K kilometer maintenance . I'll be ready for winter.

I'm posting from my iPhone using an app I've never used before so I'm unsure where the picture of Paul and Mary will appear.

Paul is serious with his inspections.

Should have the Vespa back soon.

The Simple Night Ride

2011-11-27T20:03:00.000-05:00

The past two evenings I've found myself on the road at night and with it a renewed appreciation of riding. Many riders tell me they don't ride at night -- too dangerous, too cold, or no fun. I read in riding books about the misguided riders who venture forth at night, in the rain, or in cold weather.

Make no mistake; the risk of riding at night is greater than it is during the day.

This evening I was sitting at the traffic light at the corner of Allen Street and Beaver Avenue in State College, Pennsylvania looking at the Christmas lights when I turned off the engine and pushed the Vespa up onto the sidewalk to make this picture. And to look a bit longer at the lights. Just long enough to be on my way before finding out that there is a law against having the scooter posing for pictures on the sidewalk.

Off into the night, a changing pattern of color and light as I made my way home, a visual treat that just doesn't exist during the day.

The night before I rode to the grocery store for supplies -- empty streets and a quiet parking lot. The night air was crisp but not cold at 42F. What struck me most was the tapestry of fragrances arise from the darkness offering an experience unique to the night.

Riding home through the smell of charred meat at the steakhouse and on past gasoline fumes from a busy island of gas pumps. Passing through a tony section of State College my helmet filled with the acrid smell of coal -- someone burning coal for some unfathomable reason in a neighborhood. I remembered the same smell from childhood driving through less tony neighborhoods in Mckees Rocks and Coraopolis.

Passing into the sticks I was greeted by the unmistakable smell of fermenting liquid cow manure from a nearby dairy farm, the farmer no doubt adding or withdrawing from a lagoon and releasing a reminder of food production.

At some point I shuddered for a moment, just a bit of excitement from my senses being roused to life, realizing (again) at how powerful a ride can be. Walking into the house, skin warm, eyes bright and a spring in my step I was sure a grin was painted on my face.

All courtesy of a simple night ride.

Becoming a URAL Adventurer

2011-11-23T20:14:00.001-05:00

The 2012 URAL Patrol is a perfect drug for my addictive desire to explore. With hand over my heart, I believe this thing will go anywhere I want to go and not lead to my untimely demise in the process. This conclusion was derived after 200 kilometers of experimentation on the road and some hours of mental gymnastics with my backside firmly ensconced in a big easy chair.

For those reading this review who have never ridden a motorcycle with a sidecar but plan to try one out in the future I offer these words of advice -- give it some time. It's not what you expect and it's not a motorcycle.

The first day of riding consisted mostly of getting a feel for the machine on the road -- gaining asense of how wide it is so I didn't run the rig into a post or have it drop off the side of the road into a drainage hole. With ample open roads around I had a lot of good practice routes.

One of the first things I noticed is that I would spans ditches along the side of the road or navigate uneven surfaces without trouble. The motorcycle and sidecar wheel are far enough apart that I could negotiate obstacles or run through them without fear of falling or getting stuck.

Last Sunday morning I left early to determine how well the URAL would perform on the endless miles of gravel roads in the Pennsylvania forests and what kind of gaps existed between the motorcycle and my riding skills. This picture was made after about 10 miles of gravel. Two things surfaced -- first, I felt a bit anxious when the URAL drifted left on uneven stretches of road or when the traction differences between loose gravel and hard packed gravel would cause the machine to move one direction or the other.

A motorcycle without a sidecar feels fluid and moves along a line in a relatively smooth and easy manner compared to the URAL. The sidecar rig tends to move back and forth, at least it feels as if it is moving back and forth on the road controlled by unknown forces for unknown reasons. Because of this I kept my speed to 25 to 40 mph depending on specific road conditions.

After 20 miles of gravel roads I had to stop for mental reasons. I needed some time to process what was going on with the machine. I wanted to understand the forces at work and allow myself the chance to drop into a more intuitive riding experience.

Physically the machine was extremely comfortable. After six hours on the road I found no issues at all with the seat or riding position.

Through the power of photography I was able to diminish the size of the URAL. Through a few minutes of relaxation and a couple of chugs of water I did the same things mentally.

Looking the machine over you can't help but notice the relative simplicity of construction compared to almost any other modern motorcycle. The speedometer provided indicated speed, odometer, trip odometer and a couple indicator lights --nothing fancy at all. Add to that a four speed transmission, electric start, front disc brake and a reverse gear and you've pretty much summed up the available technology as far as I was concerned.

And there is a kick starter too. Didn't try it but would be nice to know there was some chance of moving on should the battery or starter die. And there is a nice URAL tool kit in the trunk along with a spare tire. And the carburated motorcycle was of simple enough design that it appeared entirely possible that a rider could learn to do some real roadside service. No computers or sophisticated technology necessary to keep this machine running.

The URAL had no trouble running up and down the mountain roads and with each mile my comfort level grew that I would not suddenly burst over the edge of the road and on into oblivion. I could see myself riding up here in the snow. This URAL is a 2WD version which means the wheel on the sidecar has power when you want it -- just engage a level and you're in business. A fine winter time feature.

Amidst the riding and familiarization process I kept noticing how much I like this vintage look. Along with the vintage look though comes some vintage processes.

Not wanting the URAL to roll down the road and over the cliff if the thing popped out of gear. I learned later that the rig has a parking brake but I opted for the tried and true rock behind the wheel solution.

I'm clever that way.

Looking at the mufflers in the picture I want to say the URAL makes a wonderful sound. Not too loud but definitely a barrel chested rumble that inspires some confidence that the engine can deliver what you need in terms of torque.

Forest roads around here are often no more than glorified jeep trails kept open to allow fire control vehicles into areas in an emergency. They're not very wide and steeped than they look. I descended this one with care trying to decide where to put the motorcycle wheel to provide the most stable line possible. Any sudden veer or swerve could have me riding in places I wouldn't want to ride.

After 30 miles of gravel I felt pretty comfortable with the changing surface, the response of the URAL, and my growing abilities in regard to throttle, steering, braking and shifting inputs. Riding a URAL is like a dance and you need to know all the moves. You can get away with some sloppy things on a motorcycle but on this rig it really helps to expand your skills.

I was able to spend more time looking at the landscape and exploring with the camera as the URAL and I came to terms.

So many beautiful places to ride. A stop for a picture, a slurp or two of water, and a bite of a ham and cheese sandwich, all stored nicely in the sidecar.

The only pain related to this ride came while making this picture. Picking my way up through the rocks I keep twisting my ankle in the loose rocks that lined this dry run. It's a picture I will only make in the cold weather. On warmer days I would have to spend too much time looking for rattlesnakes.

By the time I hit pavement I felt like an enthusiastic amateur URAL Patrol pilot. The rig feels amazingly stable after nearly forty miles of gravel roads. For anyone acquiring one of these I highly recommend some gravel riding to hone your skills.

Since the URAL doesn't have a fuel gauge and I didn't take the time to figure out how much fuel it carries I pointed the bike to the closest fuel stop. I thought it appropriate that the place had a certain central Siberian feel to it.

While here a had the first of a few people approach me to ask questions about the URAL. "How old is it?" and "That's a beautiful motorcycle." were the most common comments. Spend anytime with one of these and you'll meet a lot of people.

The 749cc, 40 horsepower engine is plenty of power to push the URAL along secondary roads but if you think you're going to love touring along on the freeway things again. This bike was designed before freeways were common. The engine and transmission setup will have you straining to cruise at 60mph. It's bred for winding twisting backroads in all weathers and conditions. It's for adventure, not for traveling at 80mph all day long on the superslab.

I had to stop at my friend Dan's house. I'm no longer allow to pass through his county without paying a visit. The rig looked nice in his driveway looking off towards his barn. He says it's 700 yards away and the green grass strip serves as a driving range for he and his son. He thought the URAL had a lot in common with his Kuboda tractor. Must be the color scheme.

There's something neat about being able to bomb down the road and just pull over and not worry much about the condition of the berm. The URAL is like a tractor in the regard. Just do it. And if you sink in somewhere or get stuck -- engage that extra drive wheel.

The URAL is so stylish in its un-stylishness. And those shocks make it seem even more tank like.

One of my last side trips into a Siberian landscape, or at least as close as I could get on this day. The rig is all about transportation, getting from here to there, and not allowing much to stand in your way.

Later in the evening I decided to take the URAL to the grocery store -- a chance to ride through town and a chance to test further its utilitarian capabilities. I rode back and forth through State College through streets and alleys finding people pointing and waving.

Fun. It has some pure fun possibilities.

Discovered a couple things at the grocery store. First, the URAL had no trouble hauling $300 worth of groceries. The sidecar is huge and there is a locking trunk at the back. Didn't even need to strap anything onto the rack over the spare tire. I could have easily carried another $150 worth of food.

Or a couple pigs or a goat.

And by the time I left it was dark. The URAL has a nice big profile and is pretty well lit up. Certainly more visible than my Vespa. It was sad to take the keys out of it when I got home.

It was raining when I took the URAL back to Kissell Motorsports. I tried a few times to get the rig to slide or spin on the wet pavement but it just kept tracking along without a care. As the weather grows worse and we find some snow on the ground I'll have to talk to Craig Kissell about some further experimentation.

I can see why a lot of riders swear by these rigs. They're a collection of traits and character that is unique in the motorcycle world. I found myself thinking about the URAL all week. Wondering where I could go and little concerned with the weather. Or at least not as concerned as I am on the Vespa.

It's definitely not for everyone and in my case an acquired taste. And something you have to try out. Kissell Motorsports is going to keep this one as a demo bike. Pay them a visit and try it out. You never know if you might be cut out to be a URAL Adventurer...

Surrender to the URAL

2011-11-19T16:12:00.001-05:00

Craig Kissell sent me an email this week: "I have a new URAL ready for you to try." His messages are always short and to the point. When I arrived at Kissell Motorsports this morning the URAL was glowing in the sunshine as Craig checked me out on the machine making sure I knew where the reverse lever was, the lever to engage 2WD (it has the option to have power to the sidecar wheel), chokes -- basically all the things a modern Vespa rider doesn't have to worry about.

I've been thinking about the URAL all week wondering how a brand new one would compare to the short ride I made on one last spring in Colorado courtesy of Redleg's Ride author Dom Chang. And it certainly had to be superior to the MP3 sidecar rig I rode last year.

The weather got cold this week and snow was in the air, all of which fueled plenty of adventurous fantasy of grinding through the elements in the URAL as the central Pennsylvania landscape transformed in my mind to central Siberia with me and the machine against the world. As I put the license plate on the rig I try not to drool on the fender.

The URAL engenders a strange form of riding excitement.

Task and chore and all things adult would force riding to a meandering trip home, just enough miles to adapt to the big difference between a scooter or motorcycle and a tug with a sidecar. Even with a brand new Brembo disc brake up front and two drum brakes on the back I didn't expect much in the way of stopping power.

I'm here to report that this URAL pleasantly surprised me in the braking department. While demonstrating nothing like the stopping power of a modern motorcycle it does stop when you ask it to. Just give yourself more distance to make it happen.

Under blue skies and warming air I wandered about testing the brakes and other important control characteristics of the rig before venturing off on a longer ride tomorrow morning. The URAL had me by this point, I'm lying in the road to make this picture, dreaming of conquering wind and rain, snow and ice, adversity and misfortune astride a URAL.

I can't figure it out yet but this odd rig triggers some instinctual drive to persevere and stubbornly resist failure. Weird. Must be me.

The URAL is kind of dazzling with its orange paint job. I received more looks and waves today than any machine I have ever ridden. One little girl in the back of a minivan seemed to lose her mind as she frantically tried to get everyone else to crane their necks to see the sight, seemingly something to her as miraculous as seeing Santa Claus.

On my way into Boalsburg I extended my hand to acknowledge an approaching, fully loaded, BMW R1200 GS only to see the return signal not the casual wave many riders engage but a full gusto laden thumbs up.

The URAL attracts attention.

Parked along Main Street in Boalsburg the URAL looks oddly at home in front of Duffy's Tavern. More commonly one would see a string of Harley's here but at this time of year it's more likely my Vespa. Or a URAL.

The URAL is sitting in the driveway while I type this note. Junior is nosing around, angling to some tennis ball action but I'm thinking I need to go for another little ride as the sun goes down.

I need to surrender to the URAL.

Chasing Simplicity

2011-11-13T11:58:00.000-05:00

Balmy air flowed through the vents in my helmet on this glowing, late fall morning, a riding gift that grows more rare as winter edges closer. Soon the riding rituals will become a deliberation of gear and clothing, assessment and decision as the threat of frigid weather sweeps away the simpler joys of riding.

Riding a Vespa is a simple joy, one that I found late in life. Riding has allowed me to explore the notion of a simple life, at least for those moments on the road where little matters save the road unfurling ahead and the decisions and actions required to keep the scooter flying along safely.

I was riding into town to see my friend Gordon when I stopped to make this photograph, listen to the leaves rustle underfoot, watch the light dazzle thought the yellow leaves, and give thanks for just being able to stand there for a few moments.

It's been that kind of week.

At Saint's Cafe between sips of hot chocolate and bites of a bagel I read (again) on my iPhone something called the 100 Thing Challenge. A challenge to reduce your worldly possessions to 100. An arbitrary number but the idea is there is some value in untying oneself from weight of things, and more importantly from the desire to acquire more. I understand.

Yesterday brought a new Orvis catalog, another from LL Bean and one from Eddie Bauer. They were destined to join ones from B&H Photo, Aerostich, and a host of others already on my desk. Each offering songs of delight and desire for things that, well, I just don't need.

So they're all on their way to the landfill. I told Gordon how nice it would be to think about buying or shopping only when I actually need something.

I've been taking some tentative steps towards simplicity -- getting rid of things I don't use, don't need, can't remember why I have. And there is a lot of stuff. Don't know how many things I have but I'm sure I have to be closer to 10,000 than to 100.

One hundred isn't important. What's important is slowing removing the extraneous things that collect so easily.

At least that's the plan.

I showed up without any prints this morning. Gordon had a bunch including several portraits he made of me. I'm always behind the camera so the only time I have my picture taken is when I pass near another photographer. We all understand our predicament. We quickly create mutual admiration societies.

So the chase continues. I need to visit my basement workbench. I think there are 25,000 left over pieces of stuff from 20 years worth of projects. I wish it would all go away.

The Triumph Tiger XC Experience

2011-11-09T16:29:00.000-05:00

When Craig Kissell of Kissell Motorsports asked me what I thought of the Tiger after spending a few chilly days with it I told him it has moved to the top of my list. It's pretty, it's fast and it is one of the smoothest shifting motorcycles I have had the pleasure to ride. But there's a lot more of interest to me with the Triumph Tiger XC.

The weather played a role in this review -- specifically snow and cold. The first day the Tiger sat in the garage while I watched eight inches of snow fall on the ground. It was a heavy, wet, big snowflake kind of snow that covered the ground but for most of the day left the road wet with just a few areas of slush. I would not have hesitated to take the Vespa for a ride but restrained myself from taking the shiny new Triumph out into the salt and slush. Periodically through the day I visited the Weather.com site on my iPhone trying to speed the storm front along and bring more suitable riding conditions. Sunday morning found temperatures below freezing with areas of ice and slush near home.

So I waited.

And waited. Until finally, by mid-afternoon I deemed conditions acceptable to go for a ride. Morning sunshine and temperatures above freezing during the previous night quickly dispatched the snow. The very first thing I noticed at 28F was there was a surprising bit of wind protection on the Tiger. The windscreen sent a large portion of the frigid air up and past my chest and the hand guards did an excellent job of keeping my hands and fingers limber and almost warm.

The Tiger is easy to ride. One of the few bikes I've ridden where I felt completely at home almost instantly. That's saying a lot when you consider the jump from Vespa to Tiger. Riding position was comfortable and so was the seat. I was able to tear around the countryside in much the same manner I do with the Vespa -- start and stop at will, make U-turns easily, and navigate a wide range of surfaces without anxiety. All important things to me.

Everyone rides for a different reason. I like to see things. New places, new roads, new views. The ordinary places. No need for me to make grand excursions or trips. There's magic everywhere. The Triumph was an amazingly inviting ride. Moving through the backroads of Pennsylvania I felt as if I had been riding this bike for years.

After about an hour on the road I could feel my fingers beginning to flicker with the beginnings of numbness when I decided to stop and enjoy the view as I crested a ridge and headed on towards the Allegheny Plateau. The Tiger has a wonderful engine sound through a nice big muffler. And while well shielded to make riding pillion enjoyable Triumph must have kept riders like me in mind by making sure there was ample accessible hot metal to warm a poor rider's cold hands.

I think it was here that I was wishing for heated grips. I hate having cold hands.

There was still snow along the higher stretches of Interstate 99, a part of the ride I chose to try out the Triumph's freeway capabilities.

No problems on the freeway. At 75mph the engine hums nicely at 5000 rpms. And at 80mph the motorcycle flows effortlessly. I believe I could ride this bike a long way.

A short pause for food and drink. I have simple tastes that are easily satisfied by a cheesedog. I can tell cold weather has arrived by the looks and comments I get from people who thing it is utterly insane to be riding on a cold day.

The hot dog doesn't help onlookers make sense of the whole cold weather riding thing.

Speaking of cold weather riding, the landscape and riding routes are so beautiful this time of year that I am loathe to deny myself the pleasure purely because the temperature has dropped. The Triumph is a great partner for cold weather riding when the roads are clear. And with the addition of an outlet for my Gerbing Electric Gloves I'm certain I could navigate through most of the winter.

Riding through a shaded valley along the creek I could feel the air chill enough that I figured it was time to head home just 20 miles away. Farther if I wandered a bit.

The worst part of the ride was when I found myself heading directly at the sun as it neared the horizon. Riding with one hand on the throttle and the other up shielding my eyes from the glare was tedious at times but not difficult on the stable Tiger.
.

At home I've already pictured this machine in the garage, a frequent choice over my Vespa for a variety of riding adventures both large and small. The bike feels safe, reliable, like we're working together. It's got enough power to go anywhere and do anything I can ever imagine doing though keep in mind I pretty much feel the same way about my much smaller Vespa GTS 250.

So to be thorough I decide to take the next morning off to ride a bit more before making any final claims or decisions.

THE NEXT MORNING

Warmer temperatures and the promise of clear skies had me out early on the Tiger. Early enough to pass through a few patches of lingering fog in some of the narrow passages that allow easy passage between the mountains in the ridge and valley portion of Pennsylvania. My comfort and ease with the motorcycle must have grown in my sleep allowing me to make U-turns at will on even the narrowest of roads -- something I can't say for every motorcycle I've ridden.

A lot of riders judge motorcycles in two ways -- how fast it will go, and how fast it will go a long time. For me, how easy it is to maneuver at slow speeds is a really important quality for a machine intended for frequent commuting, errand running and all around riding.

But I suppose if you plan to ride a long way in a straight line any big bike will do. And the Tiger will do that just fine by the way.

No motorcycle review is complete in my mind until I know how well the machine transports me to breakfast. The Sunset West Restaurant provided the location and the Tiger delivered me there without incident.

Breakfast consisted of the usual fare for me and I was pleasantly surprised by the appearance of crispy bacon, an obvious omen of support for the Tiger. Who actually likes those limp, greasy strips of hog fat that often appear unless you ask specifically for the cook to keep them near the fire a bit longer?

I really wanted to pound some gravel roads with the Tiger but it was just too shiny and new for me to bring myself to put it at risk for a fall. Not sure why since I had ridden other machines up and down powerline paths. I must be getting old.

Despite concerns and tires better suited for the pavement I did test the Tiger in a few off road environs and found it capable beyond my skill or temperament. And it easily managed a number of explorations to what I like to call sylvan treasure sites -- those old out of the way depositories that people too busy to make it to the dump use for their personal detritus. I can spend a lot of time looking around in these places. I never find anything useful but the potential is seductive. I suppose it's what drives Powerball ticket sales.

The Triumph Tiger XC is a go machine. Go now, go fast, and go far. Anytime. And it is forgiving enough to go slow, go to the store, and do all the things I like to do. I stood along the road with my camera thinking, "I want one of these."

I do. I want one. And Craig Kissell would be delighted to sell me one. Or any number of other motorcycles for that matter.

If you're in the neighborhood the Tiger is certainly worth a look or even a test ride.

First Ride on the Triumph Tiger XC

2011-10-28T22:18:00.000-04:00

Just a few quick observations from a short ride home tonight.

"Dead sexy" I'm thinking as I look down at the handlebar assembly of the Tiger XC. There's a combination of metallic texture, machining, fasteners and form that come together in a mechanical object that almost makes me drool. Maybe it was a long week at work or a general lack of riding recently but when I sat on the Triumph in the parking lot of Kissell Motorsports late this afternoon I was primed and ready to roll.

Two days ago I thought the weekend would be sunny and cold. When I checked the weather report in the parking lot the forecast called for 6 to 10 inches of snow overnight. Not exactly the best riding conditions. While I might venture out in some snow on the Vespa I won't be taking a brand new motorcycle out for any test rides. The ride home would have to recharge my riding batteries at least enough to get to Sunday and the promise of clear weather.

Triumph makes a nice motorcycle. The engine is smooth, powerful and seems to offer endless torque creating a forgiving environment for a rider. Regardless of what gear I was in or how fast I was going the motorcycle just kept going without complaint. And the transmission was flawless. Smooth shifting and just, well, almost invisible. Every Triumph I ridden had this same smooth transmission.

My original plan called for an early Saturday morning departure for points north. The plan at the moment is to stay in bed as long as possible or until Junior insists I take him out for a walk. The Tiger will probably spend the day in the garage unless things change dramatically overnight.

The Triumph is easy to ride. While I would not characterize it as a beginners bike (it's tall) anyone who already knows how to ride would probably find their comfort zone with this motorcycle after a few minutes of riding. Seating position, pegs, brake and shifter levers, everything just felt like it was exactly where it should be.

Minutes after I took this picture and headed down the road I crossed through some of the thickest water/limestone guck I have seen on a road. The quarry usually hoses the road off several times a day to keep the dust down. Someone must have been out sick today. In case you're reading this Craig I washed the bike off as soon as I got home. I didn't want your motorcycle looking like my Vespa which was last washed in 2010.

At the local firehall I wondered in the Tiger XC would be a good trial bike and if I could manage to ride over an old car. I wondered this stuff. There was never a time in my life I would have attempted such a thing.

But it is nice to daydream.

And that's what tomorrow will bring along with the snow. If all goes well I should be able to take this motorcycle out on Sunday for a more informative ride. I'm certain the Triumph will be a delight to tour through the sticks on.

How to Get Your Head Around Cold Weather Riding

2011-10-24T19:11:00.000-04:00

How often do you stop along the road to look. To see. I ride a lot but I look a lot too. The fog hanging over the hills, the color of the leaves in the early morning light, the puddles of water that glow at my feet. It's quiet and I'm the only one stirring.

There's too much to see (and photograph) and experience for me to stop riding when it gets cold. While many, if not most, riders hand up their jacket when the thermometer dips below 60F, or worse, because the calendar page turns to September and a programmed response occurs to drain fuel and get out the Battery Tender. With a little work a rider can question all the missives about motorcycles and cold weather and perhaps find new magic a cold day.

Let's get the most important point out of the way first -- with cold weather riding comes more risk. Risk of falling due to loss of traction for all kinds of reasons, risk of bad decision making due to being cold, and generally a risk related to applying all those warm weather skills and habits to an environment that is genuinely different.

All of these things can be managed IF you accept them. And take steps to deal with them.

This past Sunday morning was the first cold day of the riding season for me when I rolled out of bed and saw the temperature was 31F. As much as I ride in cold weather you would think this is all automatic, that I would have a pilot checklist in my head, or better yet on paper. But I don't.

I'm not an organized man. Yet.

While Junior is munching his Purina Pro Plan I'm thinking about riding gear, whether I need the electric gloves for the short ride I plan, time for the ski mask yet. In general I'm trying to remember what 31F feels like.

By the time I'm on the road the temperature indicator on the Vespa says 33F. I don't know how accurate it is but I do know from experience that the temperature changes drastically in the area as cold air flows in rivers from the mountains down through the valleys. You can feel it change as the air flows through your helmet or seeps inside your riding gear to touch unprotected skin. On mornings like this you have to accept the possibility of ice and adjust your attitude and riding style accordingly.

If you have only one riding style, or if you don't understand why the possibility of ice requires an adjustment, or if you are adherent to the "I ride the way I want and let the world stay out of my way" style of riding, well perhaps you shouldn't rush right out in cold weather. Not until you have some time to re-evaluate things a bit.

There is a lot of water flowing around this part of Pennsylvania and in many instances it flows across the road creating hazards for cars and nightmares for motorcycle and scooter riders. The Commonwealth does a good job with signs for a lot of known occurrences of water on the road but they can't sign them all. That leaves each of us with some decisions -- park the bike for the duration, or learn how to manage this stuff. And assume the heightened risk that you may miss something and you will need to know how to respond to the sudden appearance of ice on the road.

I simple terms it means slowing down, particularly on curves so that you have enough time to stop within you visual range of sight. Most riders don't know how slow this actually is on little country roads. I only lean hard when I can see a long way off when the temperature is near or below freezing.

And you have to remember that even on absolutely dry roads the low temperature affects your tires and the amount of friction available to keep the machine tracking along nicely. Straight lines aren't much of a problem unless you need to stop fast and you find out your summer stopping distance computer between your ears doesn't apply to these new circumstances.

And if you are under dressed, teeth chattering, hands numb, and the response time from seeing a hazard, convincing your body to move, and then actually executing a maneuver has diminished, well, that's not a good thing either.

All of these things can be managed. Takes some thought, some humility, and ultimately desire. And desire is the fuel that keeps me going.

I keep riding because I love the experience, the sights, the places that appear on the road. My Sunday morning trip into town is long enough for me to get lost in the magic of the ride -- present, aware, mindful. Almost a spiritual place.

Stopping on another gravel road to watch the sun rising over the fields and being happy to be alive and walking on the earth. It's a simple feeling but one that isn't easily gained.

Every rider is different but I particularly relish the transition from cold to warmth, in this instance a cup of hot cocoa in a warm cafe. I'm not sure why but when I repeat this simple trip in a car I don't stop, don't see much, and just wolf down the cocoa. If I even stop to have it.

There's no magic in a car ride.

As my hands start to warm and I'm sitting at the table staring at a bagel it seems special. Special enough to make a photograph and important enough to share here.

There are a lot of cold days where the road is dry save for those places where it isn't. It's worth it for me to learn how to deal with the cold and keep riding. On some days it takes work for me to get my head around it all but when I do I am pleased with the results.

It's won't be too much longer until I put the winter tires on the Vespa.

Ducati Riding

2011-10-19T07:00:00.002-04:00

That's me, a dumbstruck tourist with a Ducati. The Ducati Diavel to be exact. Fresh off a Vespa pushing 22 horsepower to a power cruiser with an additional 140 horsepower. That's 162 horsepower for those of you who ride K bikes.

This was how an evening ride with the owner of Kissell Motorsports began a few months ago.

Actually this ride began many months before that when Craig Kissell announced the new Ducati and suggested he and I should take a ride together and take notes. Sounded like a plan to me.

We left the shop with Craig on the Multistrada and me on the Diavel. The last time I was on a Ducati was a ride on the Hypermotard. Another experience in the meaning of contrast between a Vespa and something with power far beyond my imagination. I'd read about the Diavel and forged a healthy respect in my head. It seemed to be an engine on wheels, and one of those wheels, the rear one, was eight inches wide.

I chose to start with the Diavel figuring I would face my fears and inadequacies right away, and also take advantage of the freeway leg of our ride -- smooth pavement with gently sweeping curves. The easiest landscape to ride. At some point it occurred to me that Craig might be checking up on me after having woken up in the middle of the night wondering what possessed him to just start giving me motorcycles to ride. He needed to see first hand that a Vespa rider could handle something that required more than twisting a throttle. If he did have concerns he never voiced them.

If someone had asked me to describe the Ducati experience at that moment I would have said, "Powerful, finicky, mechanical." When you are riding a Ducati you know you are on a machine. That's how I felt after the Hypermotard. And all the Ducati riders I knew would get a faraway look in their eyes when they talked about their motorcycles and the sounds they made.

I expected more of the same with the Diavel.

I was wrong.

Craig Kissell is pretty laid back. At least he seems that way when you seem him at the shop or out in public. He seems that way when he rolls an expensive motorcycle out of the showroom, hands me the keys and says to have fun. I've watched him talk with customers in the same easy manner that we talk. He lets you decide what you like and what you don't. I didn't think I would like the Diavel. He didn't care, just said to write whatever I wanted. I suppose he knows everyone has favorite motorcycles and others they don't care for.

We had less than two hours to ride. Not enough time to ride, sit down and share opinions and have me take any kind of notes that would be a rigorous comparison of the two Ducati motorcycles. So I'll just share my general response to both. If you want to know what Craig thinks stop by and see him.

The Diavel was one of the smoothest motorcycles I have ever ridden. Shockingly so. And the engine sound and smoothness was definitely un-Ducati like in my estimation, misguided as it is. And the bike was powerful, fast, comfortable and easy to ride. After 25 miles I was smiling and pleasantly surprised by the performance. No bad words from me about this bike though definitely not something that fits into my riding life.

Now it was my turn on the Multistrada, a Ducati that I had my eye on for a long time, one that I felt would definitely fit into my riding life. A mile down the road and I'm telling myself, "This is a Ducati". Touchy power, the mechanical clatter I associate with a Ducati engine, and a harsher suspension than I expected. Riding a Vespa GTS spoils you when I comes to road comfort.

We got back to Kissell Motorsports at closing time in a rush, a rush that those two motorcycles embraced easily. Before I pass judgment on the Multistrada I need to ride it a bit longer. And take a few more pictures.

Until then, all I can say for sure, is that riding a Ducati is fun.

Fall Skies and Motorcycle and Scooter Magic

2011-10-17T18:58:00.000-04:00

Riding under a strong, dramatic sky on a fall day lends offers a certain je ne sais quoi. I feel something different in my blood, an excitement shimmer through my bones just being on the road and moving. Scenes that pass with vague indifference in a car ignite my imagination on the Vespa. Or any motorcycle I have ridden in fact. Those skies don't favor one machine over another.

This time of year, with bigger shifts in temperature and light, I find a rolling unfolding of aerial tapestry that threaten to cut my rides short as I stop and watch shafts of light sweep across a field, clouds pass overhead in a collage of shapes and forms rekindling memories of childhood spent lazing on a hilltop just watching the sky, free of worries beyond being home in time for dinner.

On days I can't ride to work I often find myself rolling the Vespa from the garage and heading down the road "just for a short ride" I promise Kim. An unwinding of the strangling energy of a busy day, the quick thrill of flying over the pavement, the momentary fantasy of freedom that a ride can bring. And then, an image of something so ordinary and familiar beckons for attention. Standing along the road, not far from home I look and wonder and make a picture.

The Vespa is elegant in its mechanical simplicity and continues to surprise me with its faithful performance and willingness to tackle anything I've asked of it, from smooth pavement to gravel paths to snow covered roads. I would be lying to say I have not considered other machines, imagined different rides in different ways on motorcycles that have caught my attention. But I continue to be glamoured by the Vespa, it's magical hold clouding my mind, calling me back, over and over again to the silver scooter.

The important thing is to ride. Even for just a few minutes -- that's all it takes. Here I stopped to look back towards home, watch the sun go down, and express some gratitude for being alive and walking on the earth.

I never do that when I'm driving.

So I keep riding. For fellow riders keep riding. For those would be riders reading and dreaming, take the leap, assume the risk, and find some magic.

Especially now, under those hypnotic fall skies, cool days and fast changing colors.