It's Monday, July 4, 2011, and though it's Independence Day for the lucky folks in the US, it's the first day back to work for me. Maybe that's why I couldn't keep my fingers out of the frame when I took the picture.
I decided to take a northern route to the office that takes me through the Montreal borough of Outremont, a very upscale neighborhood on the north slope of Mount Royal.
The northern portion of Outremont, that's to say the part below Cote Ste-Catherine road, sits on a gentle slope and is laid out on a fairly straightforward grid. The streets feature either detached or semi-detached brick and stone cottages on lots that are narrow but deep rectangles. Typically each home has a driveway leading to either a free-standing garage, or a garage that is part of the home, but that is accessed at the rear of the property.
In some cases, particularly towards the eastern reach of the municipality, the homes are row houses with an alleyway in the rear for access to garages or sheds in the yard.
As you can see, Outremont is an oasis of green and relative calm that sits close to downtown. It's large nineteenth and early twentieth century homes make it a desirable location with home prices to match.
The corner of Fairmont and Hutchison towards the northeastern edge of the town is where you'll find the Croissanterie Figaro. I've mentioned this delightful corner café in a post last year which you can find by clicking here. If you look very carefully you can just spot my Vespa LX150 parked at the curb.
In no time a fresh croissant and bowl of café au lait is there to serve as a very gentle and genteel introduction back to my work-a-day scoot commute.
Jealous yet? You should be :)
As always, there's more to come.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Business and pleasure
The past two weeks have been hectic.
A conference to attend in Colorado Springs, followed by a summer getaway, first to Bryce Canyon in Utah (nature in all its glory), then to Las Vegas, Nevada (a blitz of glitz, glitz, glitz).
Both places were a lot of fun and relaxation at both ends of the spectrum. Just the ticket to change things up and refresh my perspective.
Life on two wheels has therefore been on the back burner, but I do have this to share which is kind of relevant.
Two intrepid Las Vegas police officers making a traffic stop on Las Vegas Boulevard, in the middle lane, on bicycles.
I don't imagine the driver was much of a scofflaw, but it would have been cool if he had made a break for it, just to see those two officers hell bent for leather in hot pursuit.
The scoot commute resumes in earnest tomorrow, weather permitting.
A conference to attend in Colorado Springs, followed by a summer getaway, first to Bryce Canyon in Utah (nature in all its glory), then to Las Vegas, Nevada (a blitz of glitz, glitz, glitz).
Both places were a lot of fun and relaxation at both ends of the spectrum. Just the ticket to change things up and refresh my perspective.
Life on two wheels has therefore been on the back burner, but I do have this to share which is kind of relevant.
Two intrepid Las Vegas police officers making a traffic stop on Las Vegas Boulevard, in the middle lane, on bicycles.
I don't imagine the driver was much of a scofflaw, but it would have been cool if he had made a break for it, just to see those two officers hell bent for leather in hot pursuit.
The scoot commute resumes in earnest tomorrow, weather permitting.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Scratch that :(
Publicists for the Larry Crowne movie offered to let me run a little contest here but things are just too hectic at the moment and I just can't devote the time required to do it in a timely way.
If you want to see Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts scooting through life, check out the movie when it opens near you.
If you want to see Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts scooting through life, check out the movie when it opens near you.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Monday June 20 is Ride to Work Day!
It's a new chapter in my blogging experience, because my Ride-to-Work Day post is coming to you from the west coast on Scootin Old Skool, Orin O'Neil's world famous scooter blog.
Check it out by clicking here.
And watch this space in the coming day or so because I've got an interesting contest for you to enter and I'll be giving away a prize that could keep you scooting in style for a week or more.
Stay tuned!
Check it out by clicking here.
And watch this space in the coming day or so because I've got an interesting contest for you to enter and I'll be giving away a prize that could keep you scooting in style for a week or more.
Stay tuned!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Toronto Rocks!!!
Another very important conference to attend in Toronto, another remarkable success. It's really nice to be on a roll. Here's hoping my luck holds until October 26, 2011. I'll spare you the details because it has nothing to do with my blog, and I apologize for being cryptic.
If I've piqued your curiosity, and you just can't help yourself, you will soon be able to see what it's all about at www.cscs.org, but I warn you, if the words "shareholder democracy" don't really resonate with you, don't bother. If they do, maybe we should talk.
So what do I have to share with you?
More of the same: a glimpse of life on two wheels in Canada's financial capital.
First, here are Toronto's BIXIs at the corner of Bay street.
Then, have a look at this collection of Vespas parked on the sidewalk just east of Bay street on Wellington (there's nothing wrong with your speakers, I deleted the audio track which was just annoying street noise).
I know, I know, that last one's not a Vespa. Still, six scooters and five of them Vespas on a single block, wow!
And then this trio down on Queen's Quay on the waterfront (although the one that looks like a PX may actually be a Stella).
Way to go Toronto!
If I've piqued your curiosity, and you just can't help yourself, you will soon be able to see what it's all about at www.cscs.org, but I warn you, if the words "shareholder democracy" don't really resonate with you, don't bother. If they do, maybe we should talk.
So what do I have to share with you?
More of the same: a glimpse of life on two wheels in Canada's financial capital.
First, here are Toronto's BIXIs at the corner of Bay street.
Then, have a look at this collection of Vespas parked on the sidewalk just east of Bay street on Wellington (there's nothing wrong with your speakers, I deleted the audio track which was just annoying street noise).
I know, I know, that last one's not a Vespa. Still, six scooters and five of them Vespas on a single block, wow!
And then this trio down on Queen's Quay on the waterfront (although the one that looks like a PX may actually be a Stella).
Way to go Toronto!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Thoughts on my windshield
I installed the Cuppini tall windscreen just as the winter ended and the 2011 riding season started.
It made a BIG difference riding in low temperatures (10C to -5C).
Now that the weather is summer-ish, it's also making a BIG difference: it's too hot!
Here, in no particular order, are my observations on the tall windscreen:
Based on my personal experience to date, the advantages of not having to look through the screen in the rain and at night, plus perhaps the opportunity to direct more air to my helmet where I can control air flow with the visor and helmet vents, are benefits that are important to me.
The potential disadvantage is that I won't like the way the air will flow once the screen is cut down.
The risk is that I won't be happy with the result and I will have wasted a $95 windshield. I can live with that.
There are detailed instructions on the Modern Vespa forum for cutting down windscreens. If I didn't have access to a qualified expert, I'd tackle the job myself.
I'm lucky though because the local glass and mirror shop is recommended by the local motorsports dealer and has plenty of experience cutting down motorcycle windscreens. I pulled into their parking lot on Saturday, and I had barely stepped into the shop when the person at the cash asked if I wanted my windscreen cut down. Now that's experience.
They will do the job for $35. So that seals it.
If I bring it in next Saturday morning, they'll have the job done by noon. Last Sunday before taking the windscreen off I set up a tripod in the garage and took these pictures with masking tape at three different heights showing where the screen might be cut down to:
I decided to cut it down to the lowest of the three positions. Before coming to that conclusion, I taped a large piece of parchment paper (the type you use to line baking sheets) across the windshield to make it easier to picture what I could see without looking through the windscreen.
I look forward to riding the bike with the mid-height screen. I'll only post this when I've tried the screen after it's cut.
Getting the windshield mounts off my Vespa once I removed the windshield turned out to be a challenge and more of a chore than I would have liked.
When I loosened the compression nuts, the left side mount came off without a fuss.
The right side mount got loose, but wouldn't come out of the receiver for love or money.
In the end I had to dismantle the headset, loosen the right turn indicator, get all that plastic out of the way to expose the mount, and then wrestle the mount out of the receiver with a pair of vice grips.
I had read on the Modern Vespa forum that the Cuppini mounts could get stuck that way and that the Vespa mounts were better, with the compression sleeve or the expansion nut piece being made of vinyl instead of metal.
So I took one of the mounts to the Vespa dealer thinking I'd order a pair of Vespa OEM mounts.
After a chat with the mechanics there, they said they had a strong preference for the type of mount I already have. They say that the Vespa mounts can sometimes become loose and dislodge. They have seen this happen often enough that they prefer to use, and they recommend, the metal mounts.
They acknowledge however that the metal mounts sometimes become jammed because loosening the compression nuts on the expansion sleeve won't allow the sleeve to back off the expansion bolt at the far end of the mount, which is what happened to one of my mounts.
They then showed me the foolproof, if somewhat counter-intuitive, solution: whack the mount in further with a mallet.
The reason this always works is that there is a collar on the expansion sleeve that rests against the receiver on the handlebar and prevents the expansion sleeve from going in any further once it's properly seated.
Whacking the mount forces the mount to slide further in, but the collar holds the sleeve in place, which, of course, forces the expansion bolt, which is screwed onto the end of the mount, out of the compression sleeve and, presto, the mount slides free. You mustn't whack too hard, so as not to damage any surrounding tender bits.
If I had thought about this some more, I might have remembered how to adjust bicycle handle bars which requires a similar procedure: loosen the bolt, then whack it with a mallet. Same problem, same solution.
The dealer's mechanics also recommend i) greasing the expansion sleeve when you install the mount (unfortunately, I hadn't), and ii) not over tightening the compression nuts (thankfully, I hadn't).
It's amazing what you learn chatting with the pros.
It made a BIG difference riding in low temperatures (10C to -5C).
Now that the weather is summer-ish, it's also making a BIG difference: it's too hot!
Here, in no particular order, are my observations on the tall windscreen:
- Riding with the tall windscreen means my visor was always up. Not a bad thing really.
- The wind comes from behind me with the windscreen. The windscreen creates a trailing vacuum. When it's cold, I get a cold draft on my back. When it's raining, the back of my rain jacket looks like the back window of an SUV, all covered in dirt and road grime.
- Riding in the rain and seeing though both a rain-speckled windshield and a rain-speckled visor is distracting at best. At night it's a bad recipe.
- Heading into late afternoon sun, the windshield seems to make it much more difficult to see what's going on with side streets. The too high contrast combined with glare make it difficult to see cars and pedestrians on those street corners.
- The windscreen keeps some rain off my body, but not as much as I expected, particularly in the city driving I do. It doesn't make any difference because I wear rain gear. But if you're thinking that a tall windshield will help you stay dry, think again.
- My Vespa sounds completely different with the windscreen on. I hear all types of rattles and mechanical sounds with the screen on, particularly, I think, a kind of whine from the transmission. I know what you're thinking, but no, there's nothing wrong with the transmission, it's just been thoroughly inspected and cleaned when my drive belt was changed last week.
- The Cuppini mounting hardware could stand improvement. Unlike the Vespa OEM mounts, the Cuppini mounts are all metal. When I removed the windscreen on Saturday, the left mount came out easily once I loosened the bolt, but the right one was a whole other story. I had to disassemble the headset and remove the right turn indicator so I could get a pair of vice-grips to lock onto the longish split sleeve piece and wrench it out. I'm in the market for some Vespa mounts.
- Cleaning the windscreen certainly isn't a chore, but it's one more thing to do before I can hop on my bike and go.
- I can REALLY hear my turn indicator beeper. Even traveling on an expressway at 95 km/h I can hear the beeper quite well. It's only faintly audible without the windscreen at those speeds.
- I got the tall windscreen because it's the only one that extends in front of the hand grips. That cover for the hands makes commuting in cold weather MUCH more comfortable. My hands still get a little cold with Corazzo winter gauntlets on, but not thoroughly chilled like they used to.
- On my commute last Friday, a bird flew into scooter hitting the front near or just below the headlight and partially on the windshield. It didn't hit very hard, fluttered there for a second struggling to break free from the air forcing it onto the bike, slid off the windshield, and continued on its way, flying up into the trees on the opposite side of the road. I don't know whether the windshield helped me or not, helped the bird or not, or even disoriented the bird causing the strike. I mention it only because it relates in some fashion to the windscreen.
Based on my personal experience to date, the advantages of not having to look through the screen in the rain and at night, plus perhaps the opportunity to direct more air to my helmet where I can control air flow with the visor and helmet vents, are benefits that are important to me.
The potential disadvantage is that I won't like the way the air will flow once the screen is cut down.
The risk is that I won't be happy with the result and I will have wasted a $95 windshield. I can live with that.
There are detailed instructions on the Modern Vespa forum for cutting down windscreens. If I didn't have access to a qualified expert, I'd tackle the job myself.
I'm lucky though because the local glass and mirror shop is recommended by the local motorsports dealer and has plenty of experience cutting down motorcycle windscreens. I pulled into their parking lot on Saturday, and I had barely stepped into the shop when the person at the cash asked if I wanted my windscreen cut down. Now that's experience.
They will do the job for $35. So that seals it.
If I bring it in next Saturday morning, they'll have the job done by noon. Last Sunday before taking the windscreen off I set up a tripod in the garage and took these pictures with masking tape at three different heights showing where the screen might be cut down to:
I decided to cut it down to the lowest of the three positions. Before coming to that conclusion, I taped a large piece of parchment paper (the type you use to line baking sheets) across the windshield to make it easier to picture what I could see without looking through the windscreen.
I look forward to riding the bike with the mid-height screen. I'll only post this when I've tried the screen after it's cut.
Getting the windshield mounts off my Vespa once I removed the windshield turned out to be a challenge and more of a chore than I would have liked.
When I loosened the compression nuts, the left side mount came off without a fuss.
The right side mount got loose, but wouldn't come out of the receiver for love or money.
In the end I had to dismantle the headset, loosen the right turn indicator, get all that plastic out of the way to expose the mount, and then wrestle the mount out of the receiver with a pair of vice grips.
I had read on the Modern Vespa forum that the Cuppini mounts could get stuck that way and that the Vespa mounts were better, with the compression sleeve or the expansion nut piece being made of vinyl instead of metal.
So I took one of the mounts to the Vespa dealer thinking I'd order a pair of Vespa OEM mounts.
After a chat with the mechanics there, they said they had a strong preference for the type of mount I already have. They say that the Vespa mounts can sometimes become loose and dislodge. They have seen this happen often enough that they prefer to use, and they recommend, the metal mounts.
They acknowledge however that the metal mounts sometimes become jammed because loosening the compression nuts on the expansion sleeve won't allow the sleeve to back off the expansion bolt at the far end of the mount, which is what happened to one of my mounts.
They then showed me the foolproof, if somewhat counter-intuitive, solution: whack the mount in further with a mallet.
The reason this always works is that there is a collar on the expansion sleeve that rests against the receiver on the handlebar and prevents the expansion sleeve from going in any further once it's properly seated.
Whacking the mount forces the mount to slide further in, but the collar holds the sleeve in place, which, of course, forces the expansion bolt, which is screwed onto the end of the mount, out of the compression sleeve and, presto, the mount slides free. You mustn't whack too hard, so as not to damage any surrounding tender bits.
If I had thought about this some more, I might have remembered how to adjust bicycle handle bars which requires a similar procedure: loosen the bolt, then whack it with a mallet. Same problem, same solution.
The dealer's mechanics also recommend i) greasing the expansion sleeve when you install the mount (unfortunately, I hadn't), and ii) not over tightening the compression nuts (thankfully, I hadn't).
It's amazing what you learn chatting with the pros.
- + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + -
I dropped off the windshield at Vitrerie Lanthier on St-Charles boulevard yesterday morning and picked it up a few hours later, minus some height.
I now have a custom windshield for my Vespa. I mounted it yesterday. To minimize later removal issues, I greased the metal mounts, then applied teflon plumber's tape to the part that slips into the receiver and took care not to over-tighten the compression nuts. Hopefully that will do the trick.
Here is a three-sixty-five view of the cut-down windshield.
I like the way the bike looks with the lower screen, of that there's no doubt whatever.
I am anxious to test it out, but the weather is not really cooperating.
I am anxious to test it out, but the weather is not really cooperating.
Once I give it a go, particularly on the expressway, I'll write up my impressions here and then publish this post.
- + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + -
I took the Vespa for a spin on Sunday. Beaconsfield boulevard west and then Lakeshore Road to Ste-Anne de Bellevue. It's a nice scenic ride, about 15 minutes in each direction.
The cut-down windscreen makes a difference indeed. I can see over the windshield and that's really nice, I get the airflow to my face, and I also get more air to my upper body, while my hands stay protected. It's all good... except... the noise I get from the air hitting my helmet is substantial.
I may have cut the screen too short, and I may need earplugs to cope with the noise.
It's still premature to conclude on this experiment. I need to get a few commutes done with the cut down windscreen. Once I've done that, I'll come back and edit this post to add a conclusion of sorts.
- + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + -
Coming to this post a little later: my conclusions on the windscreen adventure.
I've been riding all summer with that cut down windshield and it's time to wrap this post up.
With all the heat we've been having I removed the windshield this past Saturday (July 23rd, 2011) and have gotten in a mix of riding on local roads, highways, and expressways.
The difference is night and day. I've summarized my impressions in a table below. The formatting is a little awkward, but I think it's a good way to set out my impressions.
- + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + -
I've been riding all summer with that cut down windshield and it's time to wrap this post up.
With all the heat we've been having I removed the windshield this past Saturday (July 23rd, 2011) and have gotten in a mix of riding on local roads, highways, and expressways.
The difference is night and day. I've summarized my impressions in a table below. The formatting is a little awkward, but I think it's a good way to set out my impressions.
Full height | Mid-height windshield | No windshield | |
View | Some glare and reflection. Noticeably difficult in the rain. | See over the windshield | Unrestricted |
Air flow | Virtually no air flow to the front. Air pocket causes a reverse breeze to the back, sucks road dirt onto the rider's back | Air is directed to the top half of the rider's head. The airflow is turbulent, increasing noise substantially. | Even airflow to the Upper body. |
Low speed (0-25 mph - 0-40 km/h) | Feel insulated from the road. | Turbulent air to the helmet is felt, increasing noise in the helmet. | Just plain scooter fun. |
Medium speed ( 25-45 mph - 40-72 km/h) | No air. Period. Still feel insulated from the road. | Nice airflow to the upper body and head but little to the hands. Great for cooler temps. Turbulent air causes substantial noise in the helmet. | Significant airflow to the upper body and face, ride with visor half to 3/4 closed. |
Hi-speeed (> 45 mph - 72 km/h) | Bike sounds different. Turn signal beeper clearly heard at high speed. No significant wind, ride with visor fully up. | No windblast to the upper body or head. Ride with visor half open. No strain on the upper body. Need earplugs for the noise. Little airflow to the hands. | Heavy windblast to the upper body and head. Neck muscles strain against the wind pressure to the helmet. Ride with visor cracked open. Ample airflow to the hands, very cold in spring and fall. |
Handling | Difficult to take the scooter off the center-stand without hitting the windshield. Inability to lean over the headset reduces leverage when manoeuvering without the motor (parking). Marginal increase in top speed. | No low-speed handling issues. At high speed, increased stability and marginal increase in top speed. | Less stability at high speed, mainly due to the wind blast forces on the upper body. |
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Gawkers' Paradise + Need for Speed
The annual F1 bash is in town, and things are hopping!
It's the ultimate boys' dream weekend: a visual cornucopia of hot cars and hot women, and many of them are fast too.
I was fast too this week. But my kind of thrill would leave the F1 crowd yawning.
I had a 7:30 breakfast meeting on Thursday and planned to leave the house at 6:15.
A few moments' distraction and a last minute search for some stuff and the Vespa clock was reading 6:41 a.m. as I rolled out of the driveway.
Some mental math as I cruised along Beaconsfield Boulevard at 30 km/h, wary of the police speed trap that is a regular feature of the morning commute, suggested that I wouldn't make it on time.
So I took a route I've never taken on two wheels before. Autoroute 20 from St-Charles to the Ville Marie Expressway and off at the Guy street exit right downtown.
For the most part the volume of traffic kept the pace between 80 and 90 km/h. At those speeds the Vespa LX150 cruises comfortably with some oomph in reserve.
For a good stretch on the West Island portion I was wide open throttle though. There was little headwind and I hit 76 mph indicated on the Vespa speedometer.
My now ancient Garmin Streetpilot i5 was cooperating for once, and on that stretch at 76 mph indicated speed I was pacing traffic in the right lane at a GPS-verified 105 km/h (65 mph). More importantly, I was comfortable cruising along at that speed. Without a windscreen.
That's a personal two-wheel land speed record for yours truly, and quite a high speed thrill.
It's one of the reasons I don't need to sit in the grandstand at the Senna corner on the F1 track to get my kicks.
That's why I was very happy to give those tickets for Sunday's race to a close and very deserving friend who will get a thrill from the experience.
Win-Win! Grin!
It's the ultimate boys' dream weekend: a visual cornucopia of hot cars and hot women, and many of them are fast too.
I was fast too this week. But my kind of thrill would leave the F1 crowd yawning.
I had a 7:30 breakfast meeting on Thursday and planned to leave the house at 6:15.
A few moments' distraction and a last minute search for some stuff and the Vespa clock was reading 6:41 a.m. as I rolled out of the driveway.
Some mental math as I cruised along Beaconsfield Boulevard at 30 km/h, wary of the police speed trap that is a regular feature of the morning commute, suggested that I wouldn't make it on time.
So I took a route I've never taken on two wheels before. Autoroute 20 from St-Charles to the Ville Marie Expressway and off at the Guy street exit right downtown.
For the most part the volume of traffic kept the pace between 80 and 90 km/h. At those speeds the Vespa LX150 cruises comfortably with some oomph in reserve.
For a good stretch on the West Island portion I was wide open throttle though. There was little headwind and I hit 76 mph indicated on the Vespa speedometer.
My now ancient Garmin Streetpilot i5 was cooperating for once, and on that stretch at 76 mph indicated speed I was pacing traffic in the right lane at a GPS-verified 105 km/h (65 mph). More importantly, I was comfortable cruising along at that speed. Without a windscreen.
That's a personal two-wheel land speed record for yours truly, and quite a high speed thrill.
It's one of the reasons I don't need to sit in the grandstand at the Senna corner on the F1 track to get my kicks.
That's why I was very happy to give those tickets for Sunday's race to a close and very deserving friend who will get a thrill from the experience.
Win-Win! Grin!
Friday, June 3, 2011
Visiting Vampires
Now that's Costanza parking! And it's the only good thing about going for my annual blood test.
The only person who parked closer to the outpatient entrance at the Lakeshore General Hospital this morning was the person who locked their bicycle to the railing outside the door. Plus it's free, unlike the parking lot.
Now you know I'm not referring real vampires, just the kind who are registered nurses wielding hypodermics and test vials.
Speaking of mythical people, this newsworthy pic just in from the "what have you done for me lately" department, that I shot on the way into the office:
Guess you're not laughing now, are you Santa? More like "Heave-Ho!" than "Ho! Ho! Ho!".
I guess that proves that anything can be recycled.
I wonder if the guys in the recycling truck are going to tie-wrap him to their front bumper?
The only person who parked closer to the outpatient entrance at the Lakeshore General Hospital this morning was the person who locked their bicycle to the railing outside the door. Plus it's free, unlike the parking lot.
Now you know I'm not referring real vampires, just the kind who are registered nurses wielding hypodermics and test vials.
Speaking of mythical people, this newsworthy pic just in from the "what have you done for me lately" department, that I shot on the way into the office:
Guess you're not laughing now, are you Santa? More like "Heave-Ho!" than "Ho! Ho! Ho!".
I guess that proves that anything can be recycled.
I wonder if the guys in the recycling truck are going to tie-wrap him to their front bumper?
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Market Lunch
Ever since my daughter's high school trip to Spain, I have a thing for Spanish olive oil.
The Spaniards have a thing for it themselves, because they certainly don't export much of it. That means you have to go out of your way to find it.
One place where you can find it, and a variety to boot, is at Olive & Épices in the Jean Talon Market. That's where I headed at lunchtime yesterday to pick up some Fuente Baena olive oil produced by Olivarera Nª Sª Guadalupe in Baena, a town of about 20,000 inhabitants in Spain's Córdoba province. Pure heaven in a bottle.
Once I had my prize in hand I grabbed a bite to eat from a tiny Moroccan eatery. My grilled lamb sandwich was as tasty as it was inexpensive.
Parking is at a premium at the market, but not if you ride a scooter.
I like to think that riding a Vespa makes parking even easier because the appeal of the classic Vespa design only adds to the scene, so that a Vespa, parked where cars or motorcycles might be unwelcome, doesn't offend.
In fact it's the opposite. You get smiles and appreciation.
How nice is that?
The Spaniards have a thing for it themselves, because they certainly don't export much of it. That means you have to go out of your way to find it.
One place where you can find it, and a variety to boot, is at Olive & Épices in the Jean Talon Market. That's where I headed at lunchtime yesterday to pick up some Fuente Baena olive oil produced by Olivarera Nª Sª Guadalupe in Baena, a town of about 20,000 inhabitants in Spain's Córdoba province. Pure heaven in a bottle.
Once I had my prize in hand I grabbed a bite to eat from a tiny Moroccan eatery. My grilled lamb sandwich was as tasty as it was inexpensive.
Parking is at a premium at the market, but not if you ride a scooter.
I like to think that riding a Vespa makes parking even easier because the appeal of the classic Vespa design only adds to the scene, so that a Vespa, parked where cars or motorcycles might be unwelcome, doesn't offend.
In fact it's the opposite. You get smiles and appreciation.
How nice is that?
Friday, May 27, 2011
Too good not to share
I'm in Calgary at the airport waiting for a flight to Montreal.
I'm returning from a small, intimate, and very important conference where I was an invited speaker.
The conference venue was the Buffalo Mountain Lodge in Banff. The resort looks exactly like what you picture when you hear the name.
A collection of log row-cottages with pitched roofs, huge dormers, and field-stone fireplaces, nestled on the flanks of Tunnel Mountain among stands of lodge-pole pines.
I've been here since Wednesday and there hasn't been a single ray of sun. Until this morning it was all heavy overcast skies and drizzling rain.
In any other place in the world, that is a poor recipe for any kind of good time.
This part of Canada features the most stunning scenery I have been privileged to see in my lifetime, so a little bit of rain only adds another shade to nature's perfect palette.
On the drive into Banff on Wednesday in my rented Ford Focus I took a slight detour.
It was impossible for me not to imagine how great it would be to be riding my Vespa here.
Beautiful twisty roads draped on gentle rolling hills that you get to enjoy all by yourself with virtually no traffic as far as the eye can see.
On Thursday, following my presentation, I had a few free hours to decompress and decided to explore a scenic route I had spotted on the Google Maps application on my Iphone called the Minnewanka Loop. It isn't possible to make a scenic mistake in Banff, and this was certainly no exception.
The road shows incredible promise right from the start, just minutes from Banff village.
A mere 5 kilometers later it's difficult to see Lake Minnewanka without feeling like you have been magically transported to a beautiful but distant and unfamiliar world.
I climb back into the Focus and follow the road. Just beyond the lake, I come upon these two residents grabbing an afternoon nibble by the side of the road.
They seem friendly, but it's a rented, fully insured car, so those horns aren't nearly as intimidating as they might be if I were on my Vespa, or in our BMW.
Veering onto a side road that promises to take me to Johnson Lake, I find a spot to park, and a short walk takes me to the spot where the lake empties into a mountain stream.
I return to the lodge completely refreshed. At dinner I share the photos with some of the delegates.
After dinner, a few of us hang in the lodge's bar until just before midnight taking our time trading tall tales and polishing off a couple of bottles of fine red wine.
This morning, I wake gently and look out the large windows at the end of my room. Beyond the gallery it looks like a dense fog has envelopped the resort. Once I find my glasses I am truly blessed to behold a completely unexpected visual delight.
As you might expect, my scooter commute hasn't been intruding on my thoughts all that much since I left the foothills and got to the Rockies.
There is no word for this country other than breathtaking. If you've never been to Alberta, you owe it to yourself to add it to the list of things that must be experienced.
I'm returning from a small, intimate, and very important conference where I was an invited speaker.
The conference venue was the Buffalo Mountain Lodge in Banff. The resort looks exactly like what you picture when you hear the name.
A collection of log row-cottages with pitched roofs, huge dormers, and field-stone fireplaces, nestled on the flanks of Tunnel Mountain among stands of lodge-pole pines.
I've been here since Wednesday and there hasn't been a single ray of sun. Until this morning it was all heavy overcast skies and drizzling rain.
In any other place in the world, that is a poor recipe for any kind of good time.
This part of Canada features the most stunning scenery I have been privileged to see in my lifetime, so a little bit of rain only adds another shade to nature's perfect palette.
On the drive into Banff on Wednesday in my rented Ford Focus I took a slight detour.
It was impossible for me not to imagine how great it would be to be riding my Vespa here.
Beautiful twisty roads draped on gentle rolling hills that you get to enjoy all by yourself with virtually no traffic as far as the eye can see.
On Thursday, following my presentation, I had a few free hours to decompress and decided to explore a scenic route I had spotted on the Google Maps application on my Iphone called the Minnewanka Loop. It isn't possible to make a scenic mistake in Banff, and this was certainly no exception.
The road shows incredible promise right from the start, just minutes from Banff village.
A mere 5 kilometers later it's difficult to see Lake Minnewanka without feeling like you have been magically transported to a beautiful but distant and unfamiliar world.
I climb back into the Focus and follow the road. Just beyond the lake, I come upon these two residents grabbing an afternoon nibble by the side of the road.
They seem friendly, but it's a rented, fully insured car, so those horns aren't nearly as intimidating as they might be if I were on my Vespa, or in our BMW.
Veering onto a side road that promises to take me to Johnson Lake, I find a spot to park, and a short walk takes me to the spot where the lake empties into a mountain stream.
I return to the lodge completely refreshed. At dinner I share the photos with some of the delegates.
After dinner, a few of us hang in the lodge's bar until just before midnight taking our time trading tall tales and polishing off a couple of bottles of fine red wine.
This morning, I wake gently and look out the large windows at the end of my room. Beyond the gallery it looks like a dense fog has envelopped the resort. Once I find my glasses I am truly blessed to behold a completely unexpected visual delight.
As you might expect, my scooter commute hasn't been intruding on my thoughts all that much since I left the foothills and got to the Rockies.
There is no word for this country other than breathtaking. If you've never been to Alberta, you owe it to yourself to add it to the list of things that must be experienced.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
More about bridges
I can look out the window and see home (roughly close to shore in the centre of the picture) rapidly receding because I'm in the air again with some time to spare and my Iphone for company.
Nothing says 'fun' like typing out a long-ish blog post on your Iphone. I've got to get a bluetooth keyboard.
You can't live in Montreal without thinking about bridges.
Life on a big island sitting in the middle of a big river imposes that on you.
Even if you live 'off island', you may well live on another nearby island. On another large island like Île Jésus; or a medium-sized one like Île Perrot or Nuns' Island; or a small one like Île Bizard; or a tiny one like Dorval Island (for more on Dorval Island, see my post last year) or Île Verte.
Here's an aerial view of Dorval island.
Even if you live on the 'north shore', the 'south shore', or elsewhere in the Montérégie mainland, if you want to fly to some other place far off, or go the opera, or visit the Jazz Festival or the Comedy Festival, or give birth in a large university hospital, you've got to pick a bridge to get to Montreal proper.
Heck, even if you want to take a break and forget about bridges and islands for a few hours, you'll need to take a bridge to Île Sainte Hélène to get to La Ronde amusement park.
Even though I live and work on the island of Montreal, and spend almost all my time here, my scooter commuting route still requires me to cross the Lachine Canal twice using a bridge in Lachine, and further downtown, the Charlevoix bridge.
My goal this season is to cross more bridges.
Last season the first time I left the island on my Vespa was via the Jacques Bizard bridge to get to... wait for it... Île Bizard.
The first major bridge I crossed was the Galipeault bridge to Île Perrot. Yup, you guessed right, I was 'off island' but still not on the mainland. If you look at the centre of the picture you can see the Galipeault bridge linking the two islands.
To get to the genuine mainland I later took a really serious bridge, the Jacques Cartier, which took me soaring high over Île Sainte Hélene to land in Longueuil on the south shore. You can read that post here.
Each bridge is a unique adventure.
The longer and higher the span... the longer the bridge approach... the faster and heavier the traffic, the greater is the challenge. The challenge makes the experience more memorable, especially when you cross on a Vespa.
This season I added the massive Île aux Tourtes bridge to my list of conquered bridges. The post on that ride is here. The only way to appreciate the size of that six-lane bridge is to see it from the air.
My goal this summer is to add more bridges, and maybe a tunnel.
I want to cross both spans of the Lachapelle bridge to Laval for sentimental reasons (I used to cross that bridge daily growing up in Laval).
I want to cross the Victoria bridge for a bunch of reasons. It's Montreal's first and oldest bridge. It's a technical challenge since it has a metal grid deck, it's a long and narrow sucker, and in it's day, it was a world-class engineering marvel.
Bridges are so special, I'm thinking of setting up a separate page with links to each of the bridge and tunnel posts so that readers can get to all that content from one place.
I may also go back and edit the posts to add more pictures, like these aerial shots I took on my outbound and inbound flights yesterday and today.
That's it for now. My thumbs are killing me. There must be something worth watching on the tube.
Nothing says 'fun' like typing out a long-ish blog post on your Iphone. I've got to get a bluetooth keyboard.
You can't live in Montreal without thinking about bridges.
Life on a big island sitting in the middle of a big river imposes that on you.
Even if you live 'off island', you may well live on another nearby island. On another large island like Île Jésus; or a medium-sized one like Île Perrot or Nuns' Island; or a small one like Île Bizard; or a tiny one like Dorval Island (for more on Dorval Island, see my post last year) or Île Verte.
Here's an aerial view of Dorval island.
Even if you live on the 'north shore', the 'south shore', or elsewhere in the Montérégie mainland, if you want to fly to some other place far off, or go the opera, or visit the Jazz Festival or the Comedy Festival, or give birth in a large university hospital, you've got to pick a bridge to get to Montreal proper.
Heck, even if you want to take a break and forget about bridges and islands for a few hours, you'll need to take a bridge to Île Sainte Hélène to get to La Ronde amusement park.
Even though I live and work on the island of Montreal, and spend almost all my time here, my scooter commuting route still requires me to cross the Lachine Canal twice using a bridge in Lachine, and further downtown, the Charlevoix bridge.
My goal this season is to cross more bridges.
Last season the first time I left the island on my Vespa was via the Jacques Bizard bridge to get to... wait for it... Île Bizard.
The first major bridge I crossed was the Galipeault bridge to Île Perrot. Yup, you guessed right, I was 'off island' but still not on the mainland. If you look at the centre of the picture you can see the Galipeault bridge linking the two islands.
To get to the genuine mainland I later took a really serious bridge, the Jacques Cartier, which took me soaring high over Île Sainte Hélene to land in Longueuil on the south shore. You can read that post here.
Each bridge is a unique adventure.
The longer and higher the span... the longer the bridge approach... the faster and heavier the traffic, the greater is the challenge. The challenge makes the experience more memorable, especially when you cross on a Vespa.
This season I added the massive Île aux Tourtes bridge to my list of conquered bridges. The post on that ride is here. The only way to appreciate the size of that six-lane bridge is to see it from the air.
My goal this summer is to add more bridges, and maybe a tunnel.
I want to cross both spans of the Lachapelle bridge to Laval for sentimental reasons (I used to cross that bridge daily growing up in Laval).
I want to cross the Victoria bridge for a bunch of reasons. It's Montreal's first and oldest bridge. It's a technical challenge since it has a metal grid deck, it's a long and narrow sucker, and in it's day, it was a world-class engineering marvel.
Bridges are so special, I'm thinking of setting up a separate page with links to each of the bridge and tunnel posts so that readers can get to all that content from one place.
I may also go back and edit the posts to add more pictures, like these aerial shots I took on my outbound and inbound flights yesterday and today.
That's it for now. My thumbs are killing me. There must be something worth watching on the tube.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
What you see...
As mentioned in an earlier post, this week is not a scooter week, it's a travel week. Today an in-and-out to Toronto for some meetings, then tomorrow off to Banff for an important conference.
If I'm not riding I can always observe.
For instance, there are a lot of scooters in Toronto, and my unscientific taxi-back-seat-survey reveals that a majority of those scooters are Vespas: LXs, ETs, PXs, GTSs, Ss, the whole Vespa alphabet. Seeing is believing. Or is it?
I picked up the current issue of Scientific American to read during my travels. There's a promising article on quantum physics and the emerging theory that quantum effects extend into the macro world, the world we readily observe. For instance, there's a theory that migratory birds "see" magnetic fields as a result of quantum entanglement.
What we see is very dependent on the limits of our visual process.
Case in point.
I was on a DeHavilland Dash 8 turboprop plane and I had a view of the propeller. In flight, you see through the propeller, its outline only faintly visible. I was experimenting with a new camera app for my Iphone (Camera+, recommended by David Pogue, really, really worth the $1.99 and more). What the Iphone saw was something completely different. An alternate view of the reality of the propeller.
The propeller was, at the very same time, appearing one way to the naked eye, and completely differently to the camera lens. It's not a quantum effect, but with my muddled lawyer's brain, it helps me in my own way to relate to the article I was reading, and to Schrodinger's Cat, alive or dead, dead and alive, who can tell?
Which brings me back to riding my Vespa. Nothing bothers me quite so much as not being able to see how I ride. And the thing I most want to observe is how the bike and I perform in the "twisties". How much do I lean? Too much? Not enough? Am I close to scraping the center stand? What will happen if I do? How much traction do I have?
I don't want to find out more about this vital aspect of riding by finding the limit split seconds before low-siding the bike into a ditch, or worse.
But you can't observe yourself in real time. So I don't know about you, assuming you ride, but there's a lot going on in my mind's eye when I'm cornering. I imagine the lean angle, try to sense the traction from the feel of the road, feel the optimal lean angle and where I am in relation to that angle.
The most lean I achieved (I think) was last week going up Camilien Houde parkway, a steep switch-back road that goes up Mount Royal from the east. I was taking the first hairpin after entering the parkway at Mount Royal avenue. Wide open throttle, countersteering in the curve, and man, I was lower than I remember at any previous time. I was thinking "I'm really leaning" and creeping to the forefront was some kind of anticipation of what might happen if I scraped the stand. Would I freak out, in a bad way, would I hit too hard and lose control?
The question I ask myself, is "why push those limits?" Rationally, I think "slow down, enjoy riding through the scenery, enjoy the moment..."
But there's the rub with life on two wheels. There's so much fun in those twisties.
And that's where the saving grace is with my Vespa. My Vespa is to motorcycles, as my Miata is to sports cars: a whole lot of fun, and you don't need to be going ridiculously fast to find the fun. I can do a four-wheel drift in the Miata getting onto an expressway ramp with the pedal to the metal at 6,500 RPM. In a Porsche, I'd need to be going way, way, way faster to launch that drift.
I want my thrills, but at lower speeds, with less risk.
The Vespa's just right for me.
If I'm not riding I can always observe.
For instance, there are a lot of scooters in Toronto, and my unscientific taxi-back-seat-survey reveals that a majority of those scooters are Vespas: LXs, ETs, PXs, GTSs, Ss, the whole Vespa alphabet. Seeing is believing. Or is it?
I picked up the current issue of Scientific American to read during my travels. There's a promising article on quantum physics and the emerging theory that quantum effects extend into the macro world, the world we readily observe. For instance, there's a theory that migratory birds "see" magnetic fields as a result of quantum entanglement.
What we see is very dependent on the limits of our visual process.
Case in point.
I was on a DeHavilland Dash 8 turboprop plane and I had a view of the propeller. In flight, you see through the propeller, its outline only faintly visible. I was experimenting with a new camera app for my Iphone (Camera+, recommended by David Pogue, really, really worth the $1.99 and more). What the Iphone saw was something completely different. An alternate view of the reality of the propeller.
The propeller was, at the very same time, appearing one way to the naked eye, and completely differently to the camera lens. It's not a quantum effect, but with my muddled lawyer's brain, it helps me in my own way to relate to the article I was reading, and to Schrodinger's Cat, alive or dead, dead and alive, who can tell?
Which brings me back to riding my Vespa. Nothing bothers me quite so much as not being able to see how I ride. And the thing I most want to observe is how the bike and I perform in the "twisties". How much do I lean? Too much? Not enough? Am I close to scraping the center stand? What will happen if I do? How much traction do I have?
I don't want to find out more about this vital aspect of riding by finding the limit split seconds before low-siding the bike into a ditch, or worse.
But you can't observe yourself in real time. So I don't know about you, assuming you ride, but there's a lot going on in my mind's eye when I'm cornering. I imagine the lean angle, try to sense the traction from the feel of the road, feel the optimal lean angle and where I am in relation to that angle.
The most lean I achieved (I think) was last week going up Camilien Houde parkway, a steep switch-back road that goes up Mount Royal from the east. I was taking the first hairpin after entering the parkway at Mount Royal avenue. Wide open throttle, countersteering in the curve, and man, I was lower than I remember at any previous time. I was thinking "I'm really leaning" and creeping to the forefront was some kind of anticipation of what might happen if I scraped the stand. Would I freak out, in a bad way, would I hit too hard and lose control?
The question I ask myself, is "why push those limits?" Rationally, I think "slow down, enjoy riding through the scenery, enjoy the moment..."
But there's the rub with life on two wheels. There's so much fun in those twisties.
And that's where the saving grace is with my Vespa. My Vespa is to motorcycles, as my Miata is to sports cars: a whole lot of fun, and you don't need to be going ridiculously fast to find the fun. I can do a four-wheel drift in the Miata getting onto an expressway ramp with the pedal to the metal at 6,500 RPM. In a Porsche, I'd need to be going way, way, way faster to launch that drift.
I want my thrills, but at lower speeds, with less risk.
The Vespa's just right for me.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Team breakfast
Each Friday my colleagues and I take time to have a team breakfast. Each of us takes a turn bringing in something for the group breakfast.
This Friday was my turn.
As I set out for my morning commute, I settled on croissants as the team treat, and on Croissanterie Figaro on the corner of Fairmont and Hutchison as the place I would get them.
I blogged about this cozy neighborhood café last season. It truly is a little slice of Paris tucked away in Outremont.
While my order of two dozen croissants was being put together, I snapped a picture of the café's interior.
Unfortunately, the snapshot, taken with my Iphone, doesn't really do this place justice. The interior is much softer than it appears in the photo, and the picture fails to convey the very theatrical, turn-of-the-nineteenth-century feel that the interior conveys. It really makes me feel like I've been magically conveyed to a neighborhood café in the Quartier Latin of 1900.
I asked for my order (six plain, six cheese, six almond, six chocolate) to be bagged rather than boxed. Good thing I did. In my mind the order was going to fit in the Vespa's topcase.
Not so much. As you can see, that GT parcel hook I installed on my Vespa LX150 really came in handy this morning.
I shifted my laptop to the LX bag hook on the seat, and put the croissants on the GT hook. The GT hook closes on the handles of the bags making them nice and secure. As you can see, this year a BIXI stand has been installed right outside the café.
I used the extremity of the BIXI stand as scooter parking, something that I have been witnessing more and more lately. This phenomenon confirms what I first observed last year.
I headed to the office down Park Avenue, happily cruising with the rush hour traffic at about 65 km/h by Fletcher's Field, up Pine then down Peel to the office.
Mission accomplished. No croissants were harmed on the way.
This Friday was my turn.
As I set out for my morning commute, I settled on croissants as the team treat, and on Croissanterie Figaro on the corner of Fairmont and Hutchison as the place I would get them.
I blogged about this cozy neighborhood café last season. It truly is a little slice of Paris tucked away in Outremont.
While my order of two dozen croissants was being put together, I snapped a picture of the café's interior.
Unfortunately, the snapshot, taken with my Iphone, doesn't really do this place justice. The interior is much softer than it appears in the photo, and the picture fails to convey the very theatrical, turn-of-the-nineteenth-century feel that the interior conveys. It really makes me feel like I've been magically conveyed to a neighborhood café in the Quartier Latin of 1900.
I asked for my order (six plain, six cheese, six almond, six chocolate) to be bagged rather than boxed. Good thing I did. In my mind the order was going to fit in the Vespa's topcase.
Not so much. As you can see, that GT parcel hook I installed on my Vespa LX150 really came in handy this morning.
I shifted my laptop to the LX bag hook on the seat, and put the croissants on the GT hook. The GT hook closes on the handles of the bags making them nice and secure. As you can see, this year a BIXI stand has been installed right outside the café.
I used the extremity of the BIXI stand as scooter parking, something that I have been witnessing more and more lately. This phenomenon confirms what I first observed last year.
I headed to the office down Park Avenue, happily cruising with the rush hour traffic at about 65 km/h by Fletcher's Field, up Pine then down Peel to the office.
Mission accomplished. No croissants were harmed on the way.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
The wonders of scenery
That sign says it all.
And this is what it alludes to.
Scenery like this during the morning commute is a large part of the wonder of commuting on a motor scooter.
And this is what it alludes to.
Scenery like this during the morning commute is a large part of the wonder of commuting on a motor scooter.
Dealing with the weather
I don't set out in the rain.
But that doesn't mean I don't ride in the rain.
This week is a case in point.
The forecast on my Iphone weather app showed solid rain every day this week. Monday and Tuesday bore out that prediction. Wednesday, the weather was not nice by any means, and it did rain a bit, but there was even a brief sunny break in the afternoon, and the roads were, for the most part dry although when I left for work in the morning there was very light precipitation.
The rain that was falling is what I refer to as "spitting" rain. I'm not sure how many people use that term. My mother used to say that. I did find a definition online: "To rain or snow in light, scattered drops or flakes".
So Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were driving days, not riding days.
Today, Thursday, there was rain in the forecast, but this morning, while the skies were cloudy, it wasn't raining and the roads were mostly dry.
If I didn't ride whenever rain might possibly fall, I would miss out on many excellent riding opportunities. So today was a scoot commute.
Halfway to work light intermittent rain began to fall. I pulled over on St-Patrick street where Autoroute 15 crosses way overhead (like five to six stories up) and got my rain jacket out of the pet carrier. Now that I ride with waterproof armored pants, all I need to do is don the Teknic rain jacket.
With the jacket on I was on my way in just a few minutes. Simple. More importantly, I was comfortable and dry.
With the right gear, rain isn't an issue. I moderate my speed and remain vigilant for road hazards like painted traffic signs on the roadway, metal plates, railroad tracks and debris. With those simple precautions riding in wet weather is not a problem at all.
Before I began my scooter commuter adventure, I would always see motorcyclists riding in the rain and think they must be having a terrible sodden time.
I no longer think that.
And what about the commute home? Well that was perfect. Instead of thundershowers that my wife heard about on the radio this morning, I got blue skies, sunshine and the warmest temperatures so far in 2011.
So if you plan to commute, even if you don't plan to ride in the rain, make sure that you always have good rain gear on board. Because as I often hear said, all prediction is difficult, but predicting the future is particularly difficult.
It's days like today that convince me that I must be an optimist.
But that doesn't mean I don't ride in the rain.
This week is a case in point.
The forecast on my Iphone weather app showed solid rain every day this week. Monday and Tuesday bore out that prediction. Wednesday, the weather was not nice by any means, and it did rain a bit, but there was even a brief sunny break in the afternoon, and the roads were, for the most part dry although when I left for work in the morning there was very light precipitation.
The rain that was falling is what I refer to as "spitting" rain. I'm not sure how many people use that term. My mother used to say that. I did find a definition online: "To rain or snow in light, scattered drops or flakes".
So Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were driving days, not riding days.
Today, Thursday, there was rain in the forecast, but this morning, while the skies were cloudy, it wasn't raining and the roads were mostly dry.
If I didn't ride whenever rain might possibly fall, I would miss out on many excellent riding opportunities. So today was a scoot commute.
Halfway to work light intermittent rain began to fall. I pulled over on St-Patrick street where Autoroute 15 crosses way overhead (like five to six stories up) and got my rain jacket out of the pet carrier. Now that I ride with waterproof armored pants, all I need to do is don the Teknic rain jacket.
With the jacket on I was on my way in just a few minutes. Simple. More importantly, I was comfortable and dry.
With the right gear, rain isn't an issue. I moderate my speed and remain vigilant for road hazards like painted traffic signs on the roadway, metal plates, railroad tracks and debris. With those simple precautions riding in wet weather is not a problem at all.
Before I began my scooter commuter adventure, I would always see motorcyclists riding in the rain and think they must be having a terrible sodden time.
I no longer think that.
And what about the commute home? Well that was perfect. Instead of thundershowers that my wife heard about on the radio this morning, I got blue skies, sunshine and the warmest temperatures so far in 2011.
So if you plan to commute, even if you don't plan to ride in the rain, make sure that you always have good rain gear on board. Because as I often hear said, all prediction is difficult, but predicting the future is particularly difficult.
It's days like today that convince me that I must be an optimist.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
BIXI, BIXI, BIXI
I was in Toronto over the weekend for a family occasion and noticed that BIXI bikes are operating there as well (see my earlier post with photos of BIXIs in Washington).
This photo and the other one below were taken while driving through the University of Toronto campus (I wasn't at the wheel, my son was, just in case you think that I've taken texting-and-driving to a whole new level).
Bike share programs are wonderful, and the Montreal flavour is probably the very best of the breed. Solar powered, off the grid, and first class bikes.
In spite of its success, or perhaps because of its success, BIXI is having growing pains, particularly in financing its expansion with sales to New York City, Washington D.C., Toronto, London, and other places that are in the works as well.
I sincerely hope that needed financial assistance will be forthcoming from the City of Montreal town council in short order.
I am among those who believe that we need to change the way we in the U.S. and Canada commute to work. Bicycles and the infrastructure they require to make them an alternate means of urban transportation are important ingredients in the recipe.
Public bike share programs like BIXI send important messages to urban populations where they are implemented:
So color me strongly in favour.
May the nay-sayers say what they may, and come what may, I say Yeah!!!!
Oh! And while our municipal politicians are busy exporting our bike share solution to Toronto, they should busy themselves importing Toronto's generous parking solution that makes urban parking free for scooters and motorcycles. Now that would be a step in the right direction here.
As for the scoot commute and me commuting on my Vespa scooter, it's been lean pickings.
The atrocious and unremitting rainy weather means I drive rather than ride.
Next week the scooter drought will continue. I'm in Toronto on business on Monday, then off to Calgary for more business for the remainder of the week.
Being a firm believer, as noted in an earlier post, in the law of averages, I will be due for many fine scootering days in the coming weeks and months.
PS: BIXI got it's funding. Hang in there BIXI!
This photo and the other one below were taken while driving through the University of Toronto campus (I wasn't at the wheel, my son was, just in case you think that I've taken texting-and-driving to a whole new level).
Bike share programs are wonderful, and the Montreal flavour is probably the very best of the breed. Solar powered, off the grid, and first class bikes.
In spite of its success, or perhaps because of its success, BIXI is having growing pains, particularly in financing its expansion with sales to New York City, Washington D.C., Toronto, London, and other places that are in the works as well.
I sincerely hope that needed financial assistance will be forthcoming from the City of Montreal town council in short order.
I am among those who believe that we need to change the way we in the U.S. and Canada commute to work. Bicycles and the infrastructure they require to make them an alternate means of urban transportation are important ingredients in the recipe.
Public bike share programs like BIXI send important messages to urban populations where they are implemented:
- The community truly cares about its quality of life;
- More cars in the downtown core is not an acceptable solution;
- Bicycles are a viable and serious means of getting around;
- Solutions that consume no fuel, or very little fuel, are by far preferable to those that consume a lot.
So color me strongly in favour.
May the nay-sayers say what they may, and come what may, I say Yeah!!!!
Oh! And while our municipal politicians are busy exporting our bike share solution to Toronto, they should busy themselves importing Toronto's generous parking solution that makes urban parking free for scooters and motorcycles. Now that would be a step in the right direction here.
As for the scoot commute and me commuting on my Vespa scooter, it's been lean pickings.
The atrocious and unremitting rainy weather means I drive rather than ride.
Next week the scooter drought will continue. I'm in Toronto on business on Monday, then off to Calgary for more business for the remainder of the week.
Being a firm believer, as noted in an earlier post, in the law of averages, I will be due for many fine scootering days in the coming weeks and months.
PS: BIXI got it's funding. Hang in there BIXI!
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Spring and the promise of summer
I returned from Washington to gloomy, rainy weather and a mid-week bout with some kind of stomach flu.
This week was a different story altogether and reaffirms my belief that the law of averages is inexorable in its efficiency. At least this week I'm on the sunny side of the equation.
I took the picture for this post on Wednesday with my Iphone. My usual camera was dead flat when I hauled it out of the Vespa's topcase. So this will have to do.
I took the picture on Mount Royal avenue heading west towards Park avenue. This is one of those magical times in spring that last barely a week or so. The trees are budding and the whole city is bathed in shades of pale green.
I had stopped a few blocks earlier to grab a bite. I sat at a sidewalk table waiting for lunch, taking in the bustling scene on the Plateau, and soaking up the warm sunshine. What a joy.
My trip to the Plateau was to visit the Vespa dealer, Alex Berthiaume, to gawk at bikes, drool over gear, and make an appointment for annual servicing and a new rear tire. The tire on the bike now was plugged to fix a flat and has held up well. It loses about three pounds a day with air slowly leaking at the plug.
I'm looking forward to not having to get down on my hands and knees every few days to pump air in.
As I write this I'm in Toronto for a family occasion. It's late. Nite all.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Finally Free in DC
Warm, humid, and wonderful. That's how I feel.
I'm fresh from an invigorating walk back from an earlier successful mission to fetch cupcakes from Georgetown Cupcakes.
The cupcakes are treats for Susan and Lauren. Encouraged by my success, I drop the cupcakes off in my room and use the maps app on my Iphone to plan my further evening adventures.
I'm striking out from the hotel further down M street in search of Vidalia. "Fine southern cuisine" is the promise on the restaurant cheat sheet handed to me by the concierge at the Fairmont. I'm thinking that it's high time for some real southern fried chicken which I don't believe I've ever had.
Before satisfying my hunger for comfort food, I set off on another quest. This is, after all, a blog about life on two wheels. If you know the Washington Fairmont, you may think I'm headed for the complimentary BMW bicycles that the hotel offers to its guests.
Not quite my objective.
In the cab on the way in from Reagan National on Monday night, I had spotted a BIXI stand! I knew I just needed to shoot proof that Montreal's public bike share program is alive and well in the heart of democracy. It doesn't take me long to find my quarry.
On my way, I pass a Honda Metroplitan chained to a signpost looking like a forlorn pooch temporarily foresaken by its owner.
It reminds me of my first scootering experience in Victoria, so I snap a shot of it and move on. No time for dawdling, I'm hungry. But as I write this, I have the time to be indulgent. So here's a shot of my very first scooter experience which, inexplicably, I haven't posted before.
Earlier in the evening, heading down M in the other direction, I had spotted a beautiful cream-colored Vespa ET that followed my cab, then filtered ahead, only to disappear down a side street before I could snap a picture.
A few brisk walking minutes later, I spot my prey at the corner of 25th and Pennsylvania Avenue. A genuine real, feels like home, BIXI stand!!. Except here it's capital bikeshare.
But a rose by any other name... is still a BIXI.
Such nice bikes. You just have to love how those sidewalls light up at night.
Where am I? Right! Boy it's 8:45 and I'm starving. But it has begun to drizzle. I swing down Pennsylvania to 24th and back over to the Fairmont to fetch a brolly.
Armed with the loaner umbrella and feeling invincible, I set off down M in search of Vidalia and the promise of chicken.
Five good city blocks later and M has lost virtually all the charm it had in Georgetown from the cupcake store to the bridge just south of the hotel. Now it's kind of office-y, and drugstore-ish, and drabb-ish, and I'm passing restaurants that are mostly closed-ish, with the only source of sustenance a brightly lit McDonalds. If Vidalia is a bust, do I do McDonalds? I shake off the wisp of thought, and forge ahead.
There! Across the street, Vidalia.
I scurry across the street feeling like the scofflaw jay walker that I am. Hey! I'm a Montrealer. We invented jay-walking. It's an art, it's efficient, not a crime, OK?
Hmmm. The restaurant is downstairs. There's a guy sitting on the stairs on his cell, looking a little dejected and, maybe desperate? His back is to me. If he was wearing scruffy clothes, I'd turn around and whistle my way over to Micky D's for chicken nuggets. But this guy's in a suit still. He might be an investment banker, and this might be his first night on the mean streets. I shrug, decide to chance it, and gingerly sidestep him as I head down below street level, into the unknown abyss.
Nice place once you're down here. Now I'm worried that my casual attire or the late hour might earn me a box of McNuggets after all. I glance at my watch and look for anyone else in jeans.
No cause for concern After a brief consult with the powers that be, the hostess offers me a very nice table where I have a view of the bar, and of a private room emitting clinking sounds and occasional polite applause that wafts out of the open frosted glass door and mingles appropriately with the jazz tracks piped in by unseen speakers. Very nice indeed.
I've come to this slice of heaven in spite of the fact that the hoped-for fried chicken is only offered on the lower brow lunch menu. The dinner menu is all braised bison short ribs and crispy duck breast, and foie gras au torchon, and such. Hey, I can shift gears.
My waiter soon presents himself. Very cool-looking dude, all in black jeans and shirt, cornrows, looks like the kind of guy you'd like to have as a cool friend, might own a bar in the islands, with a hint of Jamaica in the tone of his voice, and secretly you know he is way too cool to hang around with the likes of you.
I gingerly mention that I was hoping for real fried chicken, but I know it's not on the menu and would be pleased to indulge in some other southern fare.
My cool dude smiles a nice cool dude smile and encouragingly says he'll have a word with the chef. The chef is way cool too, because they let the menu slide, and in the way I imagine southern comfort to be, indulge my desire.
While I wait, the amuse-bouches that now seem ubiquitous and de rigueur make their way to the starched table cloth before me. Oh my dear Lord, I do believe I have found the ante-room to heaven and I am in it.
I now know this is going to kick ass! A beautiful bent wood Scandinavian-looking breadbasket comes with a miniature trifecta of corn bread, traditional dinner roll, and a Vidalia onion brioche, accompanied by a ramekin duo of whipped Amish butter sprinkled with sea salt and a Vidalia onion marmalade.
Now you're thinking that in my overworked, sleep-deprived, meeting-numbed skull, I have lost all perspective and that nothing can be this good. Dream on you silly reader.
There it now sits.
Three perfect, perfectly trimmed, perfectly seasoned, perfectly cooked, perfectly beautiful, impossibly crisp pieces of southern fried chicken, resting on what the cool-dude later described off-handedly, with I assume to be false modesty, as black pepper gravy. He then apologized for having had to substitute Vidalia's signature Mac & Cheese for the promised mashed potatoes, saying that it was just as well, since the chef used heavy cream in equal parts with potatoes in his recipe, so the three cheese Mac & Cheese was the obvious healthy choice.
As you can see, my feast was rounded out by beautifully presented and confit-like collared greens as a vegetable antidote to the other portions of the meal.
Do you get my point that you have to now start planning a visit to DC just so you can eat at Vidalia? Chatting with the owner, I find out that this slice of bliss has been in business for 18 years. That's an elephant age for a restaurant.
It's already tomorrow, and I have to be up at the crack o'dawn. So this post has to come to an end now.
Nite!
I'm fresh from an invigorating walk back from an earlier successful mission to fetch cupcakes from Georgetown Cupcakes.
The cupcakes are treats for Susan and Lauren. Encouraged by my success, I drop the cupcakes off in my room and use the maps app on my Iphone to plan my further evening adventures.
I'm striking out from the hotel further down M street in search of Vidalia. "Fine southern cuisine" is the promise on the restaurant cheat sheet handed to me by the concierge at the Fairmont. I'm thinking that it's high time for some real southern fried chicken which I don't believe I've ever had.
Before satisfying my hunger for comfort food, I set off on another quest. This is, after all, a blog about life on two wheels. If you know the Washington Fairmont, you may think I'm headed for the complimentary BMW bicycles that the hotel offers to its guests.
Not quite my objective.
In the cab on the way in from Reagan National on Monday night, I had spotted a BIXI stand! I knew I just needed to shoot proof that Montreal's public bike share program is alive and well in the heart of democracy. It doesn't take me long to find my quarry.
On my way, I pass a Honda Metroplitan chained to a signpost looking like a forlorn pooch temporarily foresaken by its owner.
It reminds me of my first scootering experience in Victoria, so I snap a shot of it and move on. No time for dawdling, I'm hungry. But as I write this, I have the time to be indulgent. So here's a shot of my very first scooter experience which, inexplicably, I haven't posted before.
Earlier in the evening, heading down M in the other direction, I had spotted a beautiful cream-colored Vespa ET that followed my cab, then filtered ahead, only to disappear down a side street before I could snap a picture.
A few brisk walking minutes later, I spot my prey at the corner of 25th and Pennsylvania Avenue. A genuine real, feels like home, BIXI stand!!. Except here it's capital bikeshare.
But a rose by any other name... is still a BIXI.
Such nice bikes. You just have to love how those sidewalls light up at night.
Where am I? Right! Boy it's 8:45 and I'm starving. But it has begun to drizzle. I swing down Pennsylvania to 24th and back over to the Fairmont to fetch a brolly.
Armed with the loaner umbrella and feeling invincible, I set off down M in search of Vidalia and the promise of chicken.
Five good city blocks later and M has lost virtually all the charm it had in Georgetown from the cupcake store to the bridge just south of the hotel. Now it's kind of office-y, and drugstore-ish, and drabb-ish, and I'm passing restaurants that are mostly closed-ish, with the only source of sustenance a brightly lit McDonalds. If Vidalia is a bust, do I do McDonalds? I shake off the wisp of thought, and forge ahead.
There! Across the street, Vidalia.
I scurry across the street feeling like the scofflaw jay walker that I am. Hey! I'm a Montrealer. We invented jay-walking. It's an art, it's efficient, not a crime, OK?
Hmmm. The restaurant is downstairs. There's a guy sitting on the stairs on his cell, looking a little dejected and, maybe desperate? His back is to me. If he was wearing scruffy clothes, I'd turn around and whistle my way over to Micky D's for chicken nuggets. But this guy's in a suit still. He might be an investment banker, and this might be his first night on the mean streets. I shrug, decide to chance it, and gingerly sidestep him as I head down below street level, into the unknown abyss.
Nice place once you're down here. Now I'm worried that my casual attire or the late hour might earn me a box of McNuggets after all. I glance at my watch and look for anyone else in jeans.
No cause for concern After a brief consult with the powers that be, the hostess offers me a very nice table where I have a view of the bar, and of a private room emitting clinking sounds and occasional polite applause that wafts out of the open frosted glass door and mingles appropriately with the jazz tracks piped in by unseen speakers. Very nice indeed.
I've come to this slice of heaven in spite of the fact that the hoped-for fried chicken is only offered on the lower brow lunch menu. The dinner menu is all braised bison short ribs and crispy duck breast, and foie gras au torchon, and such. Hey, I can shift gears.
My waiter soon presents himself. Very cool-looking dude, all in black jeans and shirt, cornrows, looks like the kind of guy you'd like to have as a cool friend, might own a bar in the islands, with a hint of Jamaica in the tone of his voice, and secretly you know he is way too cool to hang around with the likes of you.
I gingerly mention that I was hoping for real fried chicken, but I know it's not on the menu and would be pleased to indulge in some other southern fare.
My cool dude smiles a nice cool dude smile and encouragingly says he'll have a word with the chef. The chef is way cool too, because they let the menu slide, and in the way I imagine southern comfort to be, indulge my desire.
While I wait, the amuse-bouches that now seem ubiquitous and de rigueur make their way to the starched table cloth before me. Oh my dear Lord, I do believe I have found the ante-room to heaven and I am in it.
I now know this is going to kick ass! A beautiful bent wood Scandinavian-looking breadbasket comes with a miniature trifecta of corn bread, traditional dinner roll, and a Vidalia onion brioche, accompanied by a ramekin duo of whipped Amish butter sprinkled with sea salt and a Vidalia onion marmalade.
Now you're thinking that in my overworked, sleep-deprived, meeting-numbed skull, I have lost all perspective and that nothing can be this good. Dream on you silly reader.
There it now sits.
Three perfect, perfectly trimmed, perfectly seasoned, perfectly cooked, perfectly beautiful, impossibly crisp pieces of southern fried chicken, resting on what the cool-dude later described off-handedly, with I assume to be false modesty, as black pepper gravy. He then apologized for having had to substitute Vidalia's signature Mac & Cheese for the promised mashed potatoes, saying that it was just as well, since the chef used heavy cream in equal parts with potatoes in his recipe, so the three cheese Mac & Cheese was the obvious healthy choice.
As you can see, my feast was rounded out by beautifully presented and confit-like collared greens as a vegetable antidote to the other portions of the meal.
Do you get my point that you have to now start planning a visit to DC just so you can eat at Vidalia? Chatting with the owner, I find out that this slice of bliss has been in business for 18 years. That's an elephant age for a restaurant.
It's already tomorrow, and I have to be up at the crack o'dawn. So this post has to come to an end now.
Nite!
Monday, April 25, 2011
Lofty thoughts
Warmer temperatures are finally forecast for this week.
That's the good news. The not so good news is that rain is also forecast just about every day.
Still, fair weather or foul, warm or cold, bright or dismal, my Vespa will have to wait patiently for me because, as I write this on my trusty Iphone, I'm cruising comfortably in pitch darkness at 32,000 feet heading to Reagan National in Washington DC.
Business meetings and the intense preparation they entail will be the order of the day, dawn to well past dusk. No time to sightsee.
If I stumble on fellow scooter commuters' trusty scoots while I'm at the political epicenter of the earth, I'll try to snap some photos to share here.
That will have to do, and will be as close as I'll come to the scoot commute until Friday.
In the meantime, Steve Williams' thoughtful post giving thanks at Easter, has got me thinking along the same lines.
There's precious little to do anyway. It's a small regional aircraft and the only amenities are pretzels.
In most ways that matter, I'm truly blessed.
It's good to pause and reflect on my good fortune and think of my loved ones as I hurtle through life. I surely don't count my blessings as often as I should.
To my wonderful wife, my daughter and our two sons, my sisters, my father, my brothers in law and sister in law, to my nieces and nephews, and my dear friends, I love each and every one dearly and you are the true source of my happiness.
So begins our final approach.
Good night all, and pleasant dreams.
That's the good news. The not so good news is that rain is also forecast just about every day.
Still, fair weather or foul, warm or cold, bright or dismal, my Vespa will have to wait patiently for me because, as I write this on my trusty Iphone, I'm cruising comfortably in pitch darkness at 32,000 feet heading to Reagan National in Washington DC.
Business meetings and the intense preparation they entail will be the order of the day, dawn to well past dusk. No time to sightsee.
If I stumble on fellow scooter commuters' trusty scoots while I'm at the political epicenter of the earth, I'll try to snap some photos to share here.
That will have to do, and will be as close as I'll come to the scoot commute until Friday.
In the meantime, Steve Williams' thoughtful post giving thanks at Easter, has got me thinking along the same lines.
There's precious little to do anyway. It's a small regional aircraft and the only amenities are pretzels.
In most ways that matter, I'm truly blessed.
It's good to pause and reflect on my good fortune and think of my loved ones as I hurtle through life. I surely don't count my blessings as often as I should.
To my wonderful wife, my daughter and our two sons, my sisters, my father, my brothers in law and sister in law, to my nieces and nephews, and my dear friends, I love each and every one dearly and you are the true source of my happiness.
So begins our final approach.
Good night all, and pleasant dreams.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Life in the slow lane
Yes it was cold this morning. But with the right gear, and the right scooter, the commute to work can be serene rather than stressful.
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The copyright in all text and photographs, except as noted, belongs to David Masse.