No Age Limit - Piaggio MP3

McConnellsburg, Pennsylvania. The MP3s did not overheat.

On a 75-degree blue-sky day, we left the mom-and-pop Shawnee Motel, saying goodbye to owner Bill Triplett. Whenever possible, Bob and I prefer to avoid chains and this country-like motel just outside Schellsburg fits the bill. (Ask for a room in the back.) We headed in the wrong direction — west — intentionally so we could repeat the last segment of yesterday’s ride — a perfectly-paved, banked and gracefully-curved road to Lookout Point of Mt. Ararat in the Laurel Highlands section of the Alleghenies. We climbed to the 2,464-foot vista point and beyond that to the Bald Mt. summit at 2,906 feet. OK, so it’s not the 18,340-foot pass I rode ten years ago in the Himalayas — the worlds highest motorable road, it wouldn’t exactly meet our definition of a “road.” Nevertheless, in the Alleghenies it’s flat-out fun on the MP3; a quick ticket to biker heaven. We were never troubled by having to pass cars, as there simply weren’t any Restauranteurs are telling us business is hurting; gas prices are taking their toll. Probably because of our preoccupation with the road, we were unsuccessful in finding the ashes of the old S.S. Grandview Ship Hotel. If not for scheduled commitments we would have turned around and repeated this section yet again. The road-hugging MP3 was as at home here as it was in downtown Pittsburgh. Once a road establishes a rhythm, as this section of the Lincoln Highway does, you don’t want the dance to stop.

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About an hour after we left, we passed the Shawnee Motel again, headed east toward the day’s destination, Gettysburg. West of Schellsburg stands the Lincoln Motor Court, built in 1944 and still in operation. It’s winning the fight against national chains and provides an authentic Lincoln Highway-era setting. It’s always uplifting to encounter a survivor. At the Motor Court, Bob, inspired by the Van Buren sisters, Adeline and Augusta — first to cross the Lincoln Highway on motorcycles and arrested four times for wearing men’s clothing — put on a new motorcycle outfit in defiance of local law enforcement agents. This is highly uncharacteristic of Bob, but the evidence is in the accompanying photo.

We went on to ride over the Colvin Covered Bridge, constructed around 1880 and rehabbed in 1998 in lieu of replacement; another structure to help ground us in our past.

Bedford calls for some time. The Coffee Pot demands photos as an early example of programmatic roadside architecture. It stands as a curiosity on a dedicated piece of land, unlike Dunkle’s Gulf Station, an Art Deco terra-cotta structure, built in 1933 which still offers full-service repairs and gas. It’s all there, including Dick Dunkle’s son, who runs the station. I wondered if I’d ever previously thought of a service station having artistic merit. This one has it! It’s also a model of keeping the best of the past in operational condition, which may fly in the face of the planned obsolescence some think is necessary to keep capitalism’s voracious belly sated. Bob and I voted Dunkle’s the best fully-functioning historical site on the Lincoln Highway — at least until this point. Further discussion at lunch resulted in a tie with yesterday’s Newell Bridge.

One of the major surprises of the day (perhaps of the trip) was The Foundry in Everett. Built in 1854, it’s now a private residence. Intrusive Buddy swung into action, knocked at the door, introduced the Bob and Buddy team to Melinda Grass who owns The Foundry with her husband Robin. Melinda, who goes by "Mouse", invited us in and walked us through a truly magnificent restoration. The end result is Mouse and Robin’s art studio, art school and living quarters. It’s right out of Architectural Digest; still another example of giving new life to what many would have discarded.

Late lunch was at Johnnie’s Diner and Motel in McConnellsburg. We asked the staff when it was built; nobody quite knew. Upon leaving, we noticed a posted sign near the front door that gave the date as sometime in the ‘40s. Bob returned to tell them about the date on the sign. They all replied, "What sign?"

Route 30 East, immediately past Johnnie’s, is another one of those MP3 dream roads. Without a car in front us for miles, the road climbed, turned, ascended, descended, curved again and kept repeating the pattern, inducing the biker’s high unavailable via any other means of travel.

About ten miles west of Gettysburg, we were ready to call it a day. We must have been on and off the MP3’s at least 40 times today, something we wouldn’t dream of doing on a conventional motorcycle. Just getting my new hip up and over the gas tank would discourage a photo stop. The design of the MP3 totally eliminates this issue. At the end of the ride, the Scottish Inn waited for us. Anil and Chetna, from the Bombay section of Scotland, showed us to our room. Bob rushed off to the local Wal-Mart for a new pair of chinos, leaving me even further behind in the fashion department.

Buddy out

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