Bobskoot has left Vancouver and is on his way to our agreed meeting place.
I still have preparation to do, including a little electrical work on the GTS to add an SAE power lead direct to the battery, I need a memory card for my GoPro, and a few other odds and sods.
Yesterday my Vespa went into the shop and got its oil change, a new rear tire and CVT belt, and a full tune up.
Everything was looking peachy, and I expected the intermittent hiccups the engine was having to be a thing of the past.
I was hoping that my second-hand bike would be as fresh and functional as a brand new Vespa straight from the factory. Like this one for instance.
Not so fast optimistic one!
The hiccups are still there. So the bike is back in the shop. The culprit has been found. An intermittent fault in the fuel injection. Oh dear.
I don't think it's going to be a problem. The only issue is getting it fixed. The dealer doesn't have the injector in stock. That's the bad news. The good news is that it doesn't need to come from the plant in Pontedera in Tuscany. Also the offending part is very small and should travel quickly (photo is from the ScooterWest site - if you need this part too, click the photo).
Still, my departure planned for Saturday may get postponed, which will delay my return. Not the end of the world because it is unlikely to put the trip in jeopardy or the rendez-vous with my fellow travelers. I just want my GTS back in tip-top shape.
So cross your fingers for me and pray to the Piaggio injector gods.
I checked back with my dealer. They don't have the injector and can't get it for seven to ten days.
That news set me on a search farther afield.
ScooterWest has the part, but getting it here in time is beyond the realm of possibility. I then called Vespa Toronto West and was waiting for their service department to call me back.
My next step was to call Kissell Motorsportsin
State College Pennsylvania. Talk about service. Of course I did drop
Steve Williams' name. But still. They confirmed that they could get
the part by Monday or Tuesday and slot me in to have it installed.
Craig Kissell mentioned that they gets lots of Canadian riders coming
through and they reserve shop time for travelers' needs. How cool is
that?
Then Vespa Toronto West called me back. They have the part, and they can install it on Tuesday when I'll be in Toronto.
Colour me very relieved. Very relieved.
So the Great 2013 Coast to Coast Moto Blogger Get-together Extravaganza (Eastern Edition) is set to launch on schedule on Saturday, July 13, 2013 at 8:30 a.m. (all other things being equal).
The Great 2013 Coast to Coast Moto Blogger Get-together Extravaganza (Western Edition) launched on schedule yesterday.
It's finally freaking hot. I roll out of the underground garage at the office and onto Mountain street planning to head south.
I am greeted by hordes of teenage girls converging on the Bell Centre across the street from the office. Apparently all the commotion is caused by something called "One Direction".
Unfazed because I ride a Vespa, I filter through to the traffic light at the intersection right next to the Bell Centre. It's bedlam, and a police cruiser is sitting with its lights flashing blocking the northbound lane.
A police officer is doing traffic duty. She has all the traffic stopped, while vehicles are slowly backing out of the street that runs in front of the Bell Centre which is thronged with people.
Traffic is backing up in both directions as far as the eye can see.
I sit one pick up truck back from the intersection as the light cycles green, yellow, red, over, and over.
There is no reason for the southbound lane to be stopped and backing up, other than the police officer who is not allowing that lane, my lane, to proceed down Mountain street.
After 10 minutes of this, I've had it. The police officer is oblivious to the unnecessary mess she's making.
My latin blood gets the better of me, and I honk my Stebel horn. When she looks my way, I give the police officer the universal gesture for "come on, already, give us a break, let us go". You know that gesture, both arms rising like a conductor about to strike up the band. The universal gesture for expressing frustration for incompetence.
This elicits a fierce look from my adversary, and she interrupts the festivities to yell gruffly at me "I decide when you get to go, not you!"
She goes back to her duties messing up my commute and those of the hundreds of motorists victimized by her stunning inefficient performance.
What seems like another ten minutes passes. The pickup truck is lurching periodically in protest. My blood is beyond simmering.
I then do what any imbecile in similar circumstances would do, I deliver two more Stebel blasts. Once I have her attention I give her the universal symbol for "come on, please give us a break". In case you're wondering, that's arms oustretched, palms out, arms held downwards, pleading.
Officer plod is certainly paying attention now because she is coming for me with a vengeance.
"Driver's license!" she commands, her hand outstretched, a scowl on her face.
I ask her what law I've broken. "Driver's license!" she repeats ignoring my question. It isn't going well.
She grabs my license, and tells me to pull over and wait for her.
She ignores me for a while, but finally lets the traffic proceed. When she eventually marches over, she demands my registration. I tell her that I did nothing wrong. She says that I was showing disrespect for her authority. This I deny, suggesting to her that I was encouraging her to open the lane because she had a serious traffic snarl to uncork.
She storms off to her cruiser. I call Susan to explain my predicament. She's not surprised. She knows she married a shit disturbing lawyer.
When my friendly neighbourhood cop returns she has her partner in tow. I'm guessing as backup because of the surly dude on the menacing black Vespa. She has a gift for me. A $161 ticket as a reward for my public service. She snarls "You have thirty days to pay or contest". I tell her the traffic ticket is unnecessary. We aren't seeing eye to eye.
When I get home, I check out the offence I've been charged with committing: "Using the horn of a road vehicle, unnecessarily" it says.
Did I? I don't think so. I think that it was obviously necessary, since she was clearly abusing her authority, behaving incompetently with utter disregard for the public she was sworn to serve, and failing to do the very thing she was ostensibly there to do, direct traffic. She wasn't directing as much as obstructing.
In addition, I think that my use of the Stebel was protected by my right of freedom of speech under the constitution.
After all I'm on a bike in full armor and a full face helmet, all of which is black, in the sweltering 30C+ heat, and I have a Stebel air horn. What other choice did I have, honestly?
Your honor I rest my case, and place my fate in the hands of the court of public opinion.
This morning was a follow-up appointment with my GP to review blood tests results following my annual check up.
Turns out I've been a fairly good boy.
I rewarded myself by taking the slow route to work while listening to Jazz FM. The music playing softly in my helmet matched my mood, and the lake's mood, to a 'T'.
These photos, taken kilometers apart, one in Pointe Claire, one in Lachine show a common theme: it's high season for sailing school.
The sailboats that the yacht clubs use to train fledgling sailors remind me of ducklings. A flotilla all askew, and not going anywhere in an orderly way. Except the drink that is, when the skipper muffs a turn, or tack, or whatever the correct nautical term is for low-siding or high-siding a sailboat.
The best times of my life, the most memorable experiences, the most intriguing events, have been when I have set out to explore, looking to discover.
The summers stretched so long when I was ten, eleven, twelve. I loved exploring. We all had shoulder bags or knapsacks we would stuff with sandwiches, cookies and apples, a canteen for some water, and perhaps a pen knife. Then we'd just go. Hop on our beaten up bikes, and go.
We were gone all day. It seemed that there was always some corner of our world we hadn't been, things we hadn't seen. We would go wherever our bikes could take us, following familiar streets to unfamiliar ones, leaving paved roads to take roads under construction. Those would take us to the edge of our world, to farmers' fields where there were farm tractor paths to bump along, and woods to explore.
What was it that made those times so satisfying?
It may be a guy thing, but I hope not. Certainly there were never any girls sharing our rides. It wasn't that we excluded girls. But it was a time before girls. I don't know how girls spent those summers because we were oblivious. We were exploring Mars, they might as well have been on Venus.
One of the magic ingredients was that for the first time in our lives, for whole days at a time, we were self-sufficient. And we could go places. Places our parents knew nothing about. Places our parents would never take us, places our parents wouldn't, practically couldn't, go. We were free, and we had bikes.
It was serious business. Sprawled, perched, or squatting on the lawn or our front steps, or the curb, or the hot pavement of our suburban driveways, stuffing our bags and talking about where we'd been and where we could go. And then we would just go. Four or five of us. Following our suntanned noses, no particular destination, no rush, no hurry, but rolling. Truly content to feel the wind on our bodies, hear the hum of our tires, and the occasional clank of our chains.
Having a Vespa re-kindled that experience. My world has expanded. My riding buddies lived in houses within two blocks in the burbs. Now they're in distant cities. We explored a suburb, we're now set to explore a continent.
Where once we were just looking for new places, now we're looking for new people and places, kind of.
Why kind of?
Because an important part of this voyage of discovery is riding with each other, and meeting you. Well, not all of you, but many of you. I wish it could be all of you, but it will be many of you. Those of you who live in Ottawa, Cornwall, Kingston, Toronto, State College, and Portland. You are in some ways new. In many ways not. You blog and post on ModernVespa.com. I already know quite a bit about you, a slice of your life, your life on two wheels.
If once my friends and I returned from our rides with stuff we'd found, now we will be collecting faces, stories, and memories.
And we will be displaying them here, for all of you to enjoy.
I can't wait.
Back to the beginning. This is about the importance of inflection. A shift. Moving from the idea "explore", to the doing of it. From the imperative "discover", to the pleasure of finding. Riding marked an inflection point in my life, then and now.
To borrow from a friend, I'll find you on the road.
What do you when you've reached the end of the road, you've pitched your tent, inflated your mattress, laid out your sleeping bag, stowed your gear, made a mug of instant joe with your ultralight alcohol stove, and locked up the bike?
You break out your barkalounger, put your feet up, sip your java, share some tall tales, and in the words of Mark Twain, tell a few stretchers.
Today I got my hands on a borrowed three-man tent and mattress pad: basically a large ranch house with master bedroom furniture to go.
It all fits very nicely on a Vespa GTS. Heck, I'm not even going to feel the extra presence back there!
I've been offered the possibility of upgrading to a larger and more comfortable mattress pad. Naturally I leapt at the chance. I've barely begun and I'm getting comped! I love getting comped!
My RV is rapidly headed to King-Size Komfort Land!!! Well Gaaawwwwwllllllllllllleeeee! Soon I'll be the envy of the Clampett Clan!
If you have eagle-eyes you'll spot a plane making its final approach to Trudeau airport.
My new bike is like a Siren enticing me to take the fast path where it can stretch its legs and zoom along. It's easy to neglect the benefits of coasting.
As you may know if you've been hanging around here for a while, I began riding a motor scooter as a commuter.
It's been three seasons and three months since I rode my first commute. In that time, I have learned one heck of a lot about what it means to commute daily.
You can fill a thimble with what I know about long distance riding.
What's a long distance?
Well I have one long distance day-trip to my credit: 375 kilometers, or if you prefer, 233 miles. That's definitely a long distance ride, but it's about 70 miles shy of what I think many motorcycle tourists consider a decent day's ride.
I only think that, based on casual reading I've done from the comfort of my easy chair. I haven't researched it or attempted anything approaching semi-serious study.
I have a lot to learn. As is my lifelong habit, I plan to learn mostly by doing. Of course I am planning, you would have to be crazy not to plan.
My right wrist hurts. Right at the base of my thumb. It's some kind of strain injury. Whenever I develop a strain injury, I have to ask myself "what have I been doing since this pain started, that I wasn't doing before?". The answer is "I've ridden 15 thousand miles on a motorbike."
As you also know, things come to me slowly.
"Do you think that working the throttle is causing the strain that's causing the pain in my wrist?"
How will I feel after another 300 mile day, after other 300 mile days? It kind of makes me think.
What do motorcycle tourists do?
I was privileged to be at Bobskoot's place admiring his nu-2-him Beemer. He didn't seem to be too fussed that I sat on it. I didn't drop it, so it worked out allright. I noticed that Bob had some hardware on his throttle that I don't have. As soon as I saw it, I knew what it was. Did I mention that I read?
Today I had twenty minutes or so on my way to the office after a doctor's appointment.
I stopped at Moto Internationale, Montreal's largest BMW and Harley Davidson dealership. I was hoping for some instant gratification, and I wasn't disappointed.
For the uninitiated, the thingy on the left is a universal cruise control. The gizmo on the right relieves wrist strain. Both devices slip in one direction, grip in the opposite direction.
I tried the palm assist on the ride home. Interestingly, I felt relief in my wrist as soon as I started using it. Do you think that the throttle is causing my pain? Hmmmm...
Tomorrow there's rain in the forecast so I won't be testing the cruise control quite yet.
Sometimes I'm not smart enough to grasp the problem that Bob tosses my way (other Bobs, please refrain from jumping in to provide testimony corroborating my occasional thickness).
A while back, Bob (no, not you) sent me a gem that I didn't immediately grasp the true meaning of. So Bob (no, still not you) had to explain it to me patiently.
Well, it certainly is a puzzler in the fine tradition of NPR Car Talk, and I'm not nearly knowledgeable enough to shed any light on the matter.
So I turned to the world's most encyclopaedic source of scooter-related intelligence. Yes, that's right, the Modern Vespa forum. Here's a link to the post.
Here's Bob's question (I took some small editorial liberties to help the dimmer wits like yours truly in wrapping their brains around the nub of the problem).
Hmm... I see that the image makes Bob's question impossible to actually read.
Here it is clearly this time:
Once again I seek your help.
Perhaps you or one of your readers can answer a question that has long perplexed.
My new scooter requires high octane fuel - at least 91.
Back in the day it was simple - there was a dedicated premium pump somewhere at the station that pushed only the good stuff.
Now all the pumps are dial-a-matic with one hose and three or four grade selections.
Since the single big fat hose and filter hold a considerable volume of gasoline, and I assume that the gasoline in the hose is whatever the last customer selected (likely lower octane), how can I possibly get any of premium fuel into my tiny 6.0 L tank?
I strongly suspect that when I select and pay for premium, in most cases all I'm getting is regular, and treating the next cheapskate to a couple of gallons of my premium fuel for free.
A friend has a clever solution: He bought a 2 gallon can which he fills first, then takes home and empties into his car.
Alas I lack a second vehicle.
The best I've been able to come up with is that I lurk at the entrance of the station and follow immediately behind the person in the Mercedes, BMW or Ferrari.
Surely someone must have a better idea.
To be honest, this never crossed my mind. I guess I always assumed that you got what you paid for.
Is this a misplaced concern?
Is there some kind of check valve re-sucking system that purges the 'wrong' fuel from the hose?
Enquiring minds want to know.
If you, dear reader (that means you, Bob... yes you!) can shed some light, please chime in.
I'll wait for the smart answers to kick in on MV and then re-post the best of the lot here. If you're not the patient type, feel free to follow the link above and follow the action (if any) on Modern Vespa.
- - - - - TIME PASSED - - - - -
If you click the MV link you'll see that not much of any great merit happened, other than people suggesting that Bob shouldn't worry so much, and some folks pointing me in the direction of other threads (click here, and here) where, supposedly, the question had been asked, vigorously debated, and possibly answered.
Well it turns out that this one has the MV crowd pretty much stumped, making wild guesses, and stabbing in the dark. The consensus is "fugetaboutit" and "don't worry, be happy" and I find myself agreeing, yet being totally unsatisfied with the responses.
Otherwise very well-informed people are saying "there's hardly any gas in the hose, half a cup, max!".
Others say essentially the same thing, but estimates vary from half-a-cup (125 ml), to a cup (250 ml), to two cups (500 ml).
So I started Googling.
The smartest answer from the best source was this, from the Wall Street Journal:
Q: I ride a motorcycle with a typical three to four gallon gas tank. I ride where fuel stations are farther apart, so I fill up when the tank is still half full. The bike requires premium fuel, and doesn't run well on lower octanes. If the previous customer was pumping regular fuel, I assume the refueling hose is still full of regular fuel, perhaps a couple of gallons. This would mean I'm initially getting a mix instead of pure premium fuel. Is this a genuine concern, or does the system have a mechanism for evacuating the gas pump hose between uses? -- Paul Kowacki, Orange Mass.
A: It is a genuine concern, but one that motorcyclists tend to appreciate more than car drivers. According to the American Petroleum Institute the gas-pump hose typically retains about one third of a gallon of fuel. So when you pump a couple gallons of 93-octane premium after the previous customer pumped 87-octane regular, your fuel load would be diluted (not to mention overpriced).
This is more important to motorcyclists because bikes have smaller fuel tanks and a lower tolerance for low-octane gas compared with most cars. I have found that high-performance motorcycles designed to burn premium fuel run poorly on regular. They generally do not have the complex engine-control systems that allow cars to run on fuels of varying octane ratings.
I don't think diluting your premium fuel with a little regular will harm your motorcycle, especially if you always select the highest octane rating available. However, next time you're filling up you may want to get in line behind the driver with the highest-performance car in the station.
So if the WSJ is to be believed, and they are so far the most credible source, there is not half a cup, not a cup, or even two cups, but five cups (give or take - 1/3 of a gallon is 1.24919 liters, which we can round to 1.25 liters, which is five cups on the nose) of fuel left in the hose.
Just in the interest of trying independently to get to the nub of truth, let's say that the average gas station hose is 12 feet long. According to Goodyear's web site, gasoline pump hoses are either 3/8" or 3/4" outside diameter hoses. Let's take the worst case scenario, that's a 3/4" hose. All 3/4" gasoline hoses have an inside diameter of 19.1mm (don't ask me why Goodyear's specs give the outside diameter in SAE and the inside diameter in metric). The volume of gasoline in twelve feet of that type of hose is Pi (3.14159) times the square of the radius of the inside diameter of the hose (19.1mm divided by 2 = 9.55mm, squared = 91.2025mm) times the length of the hose (12ft, which in mm is 3657.6mm) equals 1,049,416.44 cubicmillimeters, or 1,049.41644 ml, or, rounded down is 1.05 liters, which is just a tad over four cups.
Based on the credible WSJ source, as somewhat corroborated by our mathematical, semi-scientific, guesstimated calculations, if we average the anecdotal journalistic number (5 cups) with the semi-scientific guesstimate (4 cups), we get 4 1/2 cups of questionable fuel in the hose.
In the case of the Vespa GTS 300 i.e., the tank capacity is 9.2 liters. But even if you fill up only once the low fuel light comes on, the tank is not empty. There are still about two liters of fuel in the tank.
Basically I'm buying 7 liters of fuel when I fill up. That means that I'm getting 1.1 liters of questionable gas, and 5.9 liters of the good 91 octane gas that I need and want. Assuming that the octane rating just dilutes like any other liquid, I'm not really getting a full tank of 91 octane, I'm really getting 90.37143 octane.
I think that's pretty well within spitting distance of the truth.
Based on everything I've heard and read about octane ratings and internal combustion engines, that's close enough to 91 octane that the Vespa engine won't suffer for the difference.
So I am declaring this one done, solved and one for the history books. And I am going to join the ranks of the MVers who don't worry about the fudge in the gas that the local gas station is selling me.
Thanks Bob (no, not you, the other Bob), I thoroughly enjoyed digging to the bottom of this week's puzzler.
The stock horn on the Vespa GTS 300 i.e. emits a very polite "meep" when you press the button. Press it twice, and you get "meep-meep".
Until our recent trip to Italy, I couldn't understand why you would ever want to go "meep-meep" when you're in heavy downtown traffic doing 60 km/h and the oblivious cabby next to you suddenly moves to obliterate you. It's even more of a mystery when you consider that the Vespa GTS can cruise all day long on the autoroute at 118 km/h.
Italy changed my opinion of the engineers at Piaggio.
In Italy, the stock horn fits right in. In Italy you use the horn politely on blind corners; or just before cutting another vehicle off with brio; or when you coast down a street in Sorrento (here we call them sidewalks) and want to announce your arrival politely to your friends seated at tables in the street enjoying pizza and drinking Chianti; or when you want to join ten or fifteen other drivers who are honking to 'help' clear congested traffic. Those uses account for 99.99% of all Italian horn use. And "meep-meep" or sometimes "meeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!", is just the right tone. You see, in Italy the people in the cars KNOW they are sharing the road with motorbikes, and expect to be cut off with brio.
That won't do here. Here when you need your horn, you have to get the attention of Cadillac Escalades in the hands of well-meaning, well-heeled, but distracted, assassins. You want to press the button and go "BBBLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!".
Fortunately the Italians invented just the thing for North American needs. It's name is the Stebel Compact Nautilus, and it's an air horn for motorbikes. It goes "BBBLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!".
The trick nowadays is finding one of these gems. The manufacturer seems to have discontinued them (likely too little demand in Italy; too few buyers here). Fortunately I have one.
I extracted it from my Vespa LX 150 and here's how you install it in a Vespa GTS.
This is not especially difficult.
First find a Stebel Compact Nautilus on Ebay and snatch it up.
Once you have it, the bit that's tricky, is getting the right kind of juice to the horn.
The stock horn gets all the power it needs straight from the horn button. The Stebel horn is a serious horn. It needs power straight from the battery. When in operation it draws close to 20 amps. It needs its own fuse (I use a 25A fuse).
Here's wiring diagram that I made for the installation. If you click on it you'll get a larger more user-friendly image.
The first thing you need to do to get the installation going is to open up the bike.
First remove the Piaggio badge.
Next remove the single screw that secures the horncast.
Slide the horncast up, and off the bike. Next remove the two kneepad panels.
That exposes the screws retaining the legshield and glove box. There are two screws under the horncast, two screws at the base of each side of the legshield on the rider's side side, two screws behind each of the kneepads. Finally, there is another screw inside the glovebox. Once all the screws are removed, and once you remove the cap from the radiator fill tube, it's possible to wiggle the legshield free. Here's a link to an excellent video produced by Mic Bergsma that will make this all crystal clear.
Now disconnect and remove the stock Vespa horn. The wires that are connected to the stock horn are then reconnected to the 85 and 86 terminals of the automotive relay. The automotive relay can be zip tied to the horn assembly.
Now run the negative lead from the terminal strip to the negative Stebel horn terminal located on the base of the horn. Run the positive 25A fused lead from the terminal strip to the 30 terminal of the relay. Now run a positive lead from the 87 terminal of the relay to the positive terminal of the Stebel horn.
Here's video that shows what the terminal strip I made looks like. It's handy because it makes it easy to install more circuits (like heated grips, eventually).
Working from the rider side of the legshield, wiggle the horn into position so that the horn is essentially vertical with the mouth of the trumpet aligned with the horncast opening. The fit is extremely snug. I was not able to use a zip tie on it. Once the legshield is buttoned back up, the horn will be stuck there and will not move.
Here are some photos showing the horn installed and that relay zip tied in place.
Before buttoning the Vespa back up, it's best to test the installation to make sure that the horn is working well. Here's a video that follows the negative and positive electrical leads from the battery, up through the interior of the legshield, over to the terminal strip, and then shows that horn test.
Now that the horn has passed its test, and the ringing is subsiding in your ear, it's time to put the bike back together.
There's a trick. You knew that there had to be a trick, right?
It took me some cursing and Googling, and I'll spare you the pain.
Piaggio has a fiendish streak in their industrial design, usually involving things that lock, like the glovebox, for instance.
It turns out that wiggling the glovebox into place and making sure that the mechanical link that unlocks the glovebox when you push on the ignition switch assembly, is impossible, unless you get an elastic band, hook it on the base of the dogleg lever that actuates the glovebox lock release, pass the elastic to the front of the legshield and hook it onto something (anything will do), all to make sure that the blasted little free-floating, four-flushing, dog-leg lever stays put in the retracted position.
Now you can go ahead and wiggle the legshield back into position, and button everything back up.
Simple (OK I cursed a little). But now I have my loud horn back. Yesssssss! Feeling safer already, and it's already saved my bacon on a couple of occasions.
Main Entry: far·kle
Pronunciation: \ˈfär-kəl\
Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): far·kled; far·kling \-k(ə-)liŋ\
Etymology: Moto English, conflation of function and sparkle
Date: 20th century
transitive verb, to add after-market functionality to a powered two-wheeler, especially chrome-plated accessories
synonyms: splurge
— far·kly \-k(ə-)lē\ adjective
noun, a device extending the function of a powered two wheeler
Vespas may be the ultimate urban vehicle. They are compact, comfortable, nimble, powerful, rolling works of automotive art.
Vespas are also wonderful beasts of burden. A stock Vespa offers spacious underseat storage and a glove box in the legshield, both of which lock securely, and a bag hook on the legshield. There is also the passenger seat. With a few straps, bungees or cords you can carry some surprising stuff on the passenger seat.
Most Vespa owners augment this already impressive capacity by adding a rear rack, a topcase and sometimes a front rack.
It's the carrying capacity of scooters, and Vespas in particular, that makes them superbly suited as a commuting vehicle.
But can the ultimate commuter bike also tour?
The Vespa's achilles heel as far as touring is concerned has nothing to do with its small wheels, and everything to do with its small fuel tank.
It's a more or less open secret that I'm gearing up for a major touring challenge. It will be a significant challenge for me. On the other hand, I have every reason to believe that my Vespa GTS 300 i.e. Super is more than capable of carrying me there, and back.
The trick to touring on a Vespa is to use other Vespa strengths to compensate for the Vespa's main weakness.
Today I received a long awaited farkle from Didge at Classic Racks in the UK. Didge is legendary among Vespa cognoscenti as the inventor, manufacturer and purveyor of the versatile footrack.
No, a footrack is not a rack you wear on your foot, nor is it a rack on which to rest, or store your foot.
It's a sturdy metal rack that turns the Vespa's footwell into a superb place to carry gear that would be challenging to carry elsewhere. It's also the perfect place to carry a small jerry can of gasoline.
True to Vespa form, Didge's footrack serves its utilitarian purpose, and does it in style. Installing the rack took a screwdriver and all of fifteen minutes.
Next step: go to Canadian Tire and pick up a suitable gasoline container.
Riding a motor scooter or motorcycle is always more risky than driving a car. It's important to take reasonable steps to be seen by the other riders and drivers.
Vespas are not especially visible. For that matter, neither are most motorcycles, when they roll off the dealer's lot.
Fortunately there are steps you can take to make yourself more visible.
For people approaching your bike from the rear, one solution is to install auxiliary brake and turn signals.
The additional lights can double the odds that motorists will see you and be informed of your braking and turning intentions.
There is an excellent product on the market made by Calgary's aptly named Admore Lighting. When I found the company and their products I knew instantly that I needed one of their all-in-one LED auxiliary brake and turn indicator units.
I originally installed it on my Vespa LX 150. Over a weekend not long ago I removed it from the LX 150 and installed it on my GTS 300.
Here's how it's done.
First I have to thank Jim Crowther for the excellent instructions he posted on the Modern Vespa forum. Jim installed a different Admore solution but the key for me was the way Jim tapped into the GTS wiring loom. The approach he took was much easier than what I put myself through when I installed it on my LX.
Without further digresssion or avoidance, here are the steps from start to finish. Some of the steps are identical to those I took for the LX: wiring the lightbar to a set of 5-pin Reese trailer plugs. The trailer plugs make it possible to remove your top case in a jiffy should the need arise.
This project report shows all the steps I took to install the AdmoreLighting Mini Light Bar LED auxiliary modulating brake light and sequential turn indicator unit on the Vespa OEM topcase on my GTS 300 ie motor scooter.
You'll see that I'm documenting mistakes I made and clearly identifying them, so that others doing this project may not make the same mistakes. Not to worry though, there's always a way to get back on track.
1. I planned to mount the Admore unit to my topcase in the same way as I did on the LX.
I wanted to be able to remove the topcase without having to cut wiring connections. The Reese trailer harness provides a good weather proof connector for that purpose.
2. All the wire you’ll need for the installation comes with the Admore unit. What you need to do is separate the wire in two parts, use electrician’s pliers or a wire cutter to cut the wire about 6 or 7 inches from the Admore unit. On my unit there was a label on the wire. Assuming that the labels are in the same place on all units, cut the wire just on the far side of the label, as you see in the photo below.
3. Cut the insulation sheath back a few inches, then strip each of the six wires about 1/4”.
4. Cut the wires leading from each of the Reese trailer plugs about 1 1/2” or 2” from each plug and strip each of the five wires about 1/4”.
5. Take the long section of wire you removed from the Admore Unit and, beginning at the end where you cut the wire, cut the insulation sheath back a few inches, then strip each of the six wires about 1/4”.
6. As instructed in the Admore installation instructions that come from the unit, twist the blue wire and the red wire together.
7. Cut five 1 1/2" lengths of 1/8 inch black heat shrink wrap and fit one on each of the wires you stripped in the preceding step. Since the red and blue wires are twisted together, you only need five pieces for the six wires.
This is where I made the first mistake. I forgot to slip heat shrink wrap onto the yellow wire before soldering it. I unsoldered it, but the solder on the two ends of the wire prevented me from making a new solder joint. So I shifted gears and used a solderless butt joint crimp connecter on the yellow wire. Problem solved. Hopefully by putting the heat shrink on all the wires before you start soldering, you’ll avoid my mistake.
8. Notice that the two trailer plugs are not identical. They are mirror images of one another. One has five female connectors and one male connector, and other has the reverse. On the assumption that one day you’ll want to travel without the topcase, select the plug that has the five female connectors as the one to solder to the long wire.
9. Solder the wires to the trailer plug, matching the colors shown in the following diagram.
Click on the diagram to get a full size view. You should probably also print the diagram out now, because you’ll be needing it later at the Vespa end of things. When I installed the Admore unit on my GTS I found that I somehow reversed the left and right turn indicator leads. It's not a big deal. I just ignore the "top" etched into the Admore unit and install it upside down. There's no difference since it's symmetrical. I'm also colour-blind, and the Vespa wires are dirty, so I must confess that it took two tries to get the right wires tapped into the Vespa wire loom.
Take care not heat the shrink wrap when you're soldering the wires. In my case, I did cause a small bit of the shrink wrap to contract. I used the box cutter (in my case, my scalpel [don’t ask, I’m a lawyer, not a doctor]) to cut away that small bit to allow the tubing to slide over the joint.
10. Slide the heat shrink tubing over each solder joint so that each joint is insulated.
11. Use the heat gun to shrink the tubing.
12. Starting from the other end of the long wire, slide an 8” or 9” piece of 3/8” heat shrink onto the wire and run it all the way to where the trailer plug is soldered on. Bend the wires at the plug to bring them as close as possible to the plug, and slide the tubing as close as possible to the plug. In my case, my new GTS scooter is black, whereas the LX 150 was Dragon Red, so I used red shrink tubing originally. For the GTS I put a new piece of black shrink wrap over the red to match the colour of the new bike. Since this piece of the wire will run from the scooter body to the topcase in plain sight, matching the body colour helps it look less obvious. Just esthetics.
13. Use the heat gun to shrink the tubing.
14. Now carefully remove a few inches of the black sheath off the other end of the wire wire and carefully separate the six colored strands. Use your knife to cut away the fabric strands.
15. Time to test your electrical skills. Connect the two trailer plugs, the one you just soldered to the long wire, and the one you’re about to solder to the Admore unit. Using a volt meter, check each wire for continuity between the very end of the long admore unit wire, to the stripped wires of the second trailer plug, the male one, making sure that all the connections work. Congratulations, you passed your amateur electrician’s test.
16. Now that you’ve soldered five joints successfully, you can tackle soldering the other trailer plug.
17. Select the remaining trailer plug that has the five male connectors as the one to solder to the short wire coming from the Admore unit.
18. Slide a piece of 3/8” heat shrink onto the wire from the Admore unit and run it all the way to the unit. Make sure that the tubing is about 2” shorter than the sheath on the Admore unit wire.
19. As instructed in the Admore installation instructions that come from the unit, twist the blue wire and the red wire from the unit together.
20. Cut five 1 1/2" lengths of 1/8 inch black heat shrink wrap and fit one on each of the wires that come from the unit. Since the red and blue wires are twisted together, you only need five pieces for the six wires.
21. Solder the wires to the trailer plug, matching the colors shown in the diagram above. Take care not heat the shrink wrap. In my case, unbelievably, I made exactly the same mistake with the yellow wire. There must be something in my brain with yellow.
22. Slide the heat shrink tubing over each solder joint so that each joint is insulated.
23. Use the heat gun to shrink the five pieces of tubing.
24. Bend the wires at the plug to bring them as close as possible to the plug, and slide the black tubing down from the Admore unit as close as possible to the plug.
25. Use the heat gun to shrink the tubing.
26. Finally, all the lab tinkering is done. What you now have is the Admore unit, terminating at the five-pin male trailer plug, and the other half of the wiring harness, terminating at the five-pin female trailer plug. In the following photo, you'll see that the way I was tapping into the Vespa wiring loom on the LX 150 required that I take the entire sheath off the long wire. For the GTS you'll see that I used a much simpler way to tap into the loom. I therefore added black shrink wrap to the entire length of the long wire.
Now it’s time to head out to the scooter.
27. Park the scooter in the center of your work space. Set up some good task lighting. If, like me, you’re working in a cold garage, lay an old blanket down at the back of the scooter.
28. Open the topcase, and remove the four screws that hold the top case to the rear rack. Make sure that you have a container to hold the screws you remove.
29. Open the seat and remove the pet carrier bucket.
30. Using an Allen key, remove the screws that secure the plastic cover that surrounds the gasoline (petrol, for my UK readers) filler tube. You'll also need to remove the rubber gasket that surrounds the tube. It's a little fiddly, but not that difficult. You can make easier by just pulling off the plastic cover-shield thing because it will take the gasket with it.
31. Remove the gas (petrol) cap and gently lift off the plastic cover. Once removed, replace the cap on the filler tube so that you don’t have to breathe in the high octane as you work, unless you like that smell and grew up sniffing gas for kicks. No, seriously, put the cap back on.
32. Next, still using the Phillips screw driver, remove the single screw holding the right-hand turn indicator light, pull the housing out, and let the housing dangle from its wires.
33. If, like me, you have OEM crash bars installed, by removing the screws retaining the shield around the fuel filler, you will have also released the top crash bar anchors. Next, remove the screw and bolt securing the right hand crash bar to the bottom of the Vespa body.
34. Next, remove the plastic body part at the bottom edge of the right-hand cowl. The way to do this is to remove the single Phillips screw at the front end of the fairing. Next you'll find a 10mm nut just inside the cowl right next to the right-hand turn signal housing. Once you remove that nut, the fairing can be pried off the bike, starting at the rear and working to the front. The fairing is retained by clips in rubber bushings and will snap off with little force. Be gentle. With a little wiggling and finagling, gently moving the crash bar aside, you can get the fairing off.
35. With the right-hand cowl exposed in this way, feel just inside the lip of the metal edge of the cowl. That's where you'll find the wire loom that goes to the rear tail, brake and turn indicator lights. Gently pull it free.
36. Take the long set of wires for the Admore unit that terminates in the female plug and thread the wire through the leftmost grill opening of the plastic housing that surround the gas tank filler tube. The leftmost grill opening allows the wire the easiest route to the inside of the engine compartment. From there, run the wire to the right side of the engine compartment and down and out by the edge of the right hand cowl. You will see in the second photo below that I neatly tucked the wire behind the top of the right hand shock absorber mount. It turned out that there wasn't enough wire to allow for that so the wire ended up following the same route, minus the tuck behind the absorber.
37. Get the five Posi-Tap wire tapping gizmos out of the Admore unit parts bag, and install them onto the wires leading from the Vespa light housings following the wiring diagram above.
But before buttoning the scooter back up it’s best to run a test. Take the Admore unit and plug it in. Make sure the kill switch is in the run position. Turn on the ignition. The Admore unit should light up as a running light. Now turn on the left, then right turn indicators. The Admore sequential turn indicators should work. Make sure the unit is right-side up so that the left indicator is on the left side. Now apply one of the brakes. The brake light should modulate, then stay on. Release the brake and then re-apply it. The brake light should come back on, but without modulating.
Assuming it passes the test, wrap up the electrical connections in electrician's tape and tuck the wiring loom back into position.
38. In the comfort of your kitchen or workshop, turn the topcase upside down. Take the Admore unit mounting bracket and figure out where you want to place it. The underside of the GTS OEM topcase is a kind of honeycomb. Place the Admore bracket against the bottom of the topcase and note the location for the screws.
39. Using your electric drill and a 9/32 bit, and drill out the two holes. The topcase material drills nicely, I found that a low speed worked best.
40. Using the screws provided with the Admore unit, mount the bracket to the topcase, and then mount the Admore unit to the bracket. Here's a photo that shows how I mounted the bracket and Admore unit on the bottom of my GTS topcase.
41. Now re-attach the topcase to the Vespa, and plug the male plug from the Admore unit into the female plug from the wiring harness you installed earlier.
42. Push any excess wiring harness wire into the opening at the top of the scooter.
43. Re-attach the crashbars, drop the pet carrier bucket back into place, close the seat, and, finally, this project is done.
44. Take a moment to congratulate yourself, admire the wonderful light show at the back end of your Vespa, show off your handiwork to your significant other, and then go for a ride.
Pheww... that was more work than actually doing the project. I hope you will find the project report useful.
