Banff: from the ridiculous to the sublime

There was no moto-component, unless the silly souvenir in the shop window in Banff counts.

Sharing the impossible beauty we witnessed just a few short weeks ago seems like the appropriate way to go.

From Vancouver...

To Kelowna...

To Banff...

The scenery went from nice, to stunning, and on to spectacular.

The only possible conclusion is that travel is its own reward.

Rider profile: Bill Breen

Name: Bill Breen
Find me on Earth: New York City, NY
Find me online: Not yet
Interview Date: Friday, September 12, 2014
Interview Location: Old Montreal

Leaving NYC for Montreal, September 10, 2014 - © Bill Breen

Grandkids on Mona - © Bill Breen

Scootcommute: When did you start riding, how old were you?

Bill: I had a Ducati 250 back in the dark ages and then I was a cager for oh forty years;

Scootcommute: How many motorbikes have you owned?

Bill: Two.

Scootcommute: What is your current bike, and is the current bike your favorite?

Bill: A 2012 Vespa 300GTSie in blue with a full windshield.  I bought it new and just turned over 10,000 miles.The Vespa is definitely my favorite.

Scootcommute: Talk to me about the most challenging riding skill you learned.

Bill: Challenging? Well, it was a little stupid but I broke Mona in [ed.: Bill means his bike] on a ride from NYC to Charlotte NC to see the grandkids. I found myself in a mountain rainstorm in West Virginia  doing sixty on an interstate. Downhill. I hadn't ridden a two-wheeler since the '60's. Yes, I'd say it was challenging.

Scootcommute: Are you a moto-commuter, a tourer, or a fair weather rider?

Bill:  I ride year round, weather-permitting (and by that I mean no snow or ice on the streets - any other time is good). We don't have a car in NYC and we use Zipcar when we really need one. I do most of the groceries and chores and whatever else needs doing.

Scootcommute: Are you a solitary rider? How about riding in a group?

Bill:  I'm mostly solitary, but I wave to Harley guys---they're usually the only ones who wave back.

Scootcommute: I dare you to share an awkward or embarrassing riding moment.

Bill:  I almost flunked my test! A figure eight in a tight space just about did me in.

Scootcommute: What is the best place your bike has taken you?

Bill: The Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia and North Carolina on my way to see the grandkids.  Stunning scenery. Just bring extra gas because gas stations are in short supply.

Scootcommute: Tell me why you ride.

Bill: Jeez, not enough room here.

Scootcommute: If I could grant you one riding wish, what would it be?

Bill: That Elizabeth would retire and get a Vespa.

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You can find other rider profiles on the Rider Profiles page

Change of pace

We are blessed. I am blessed.

Let me explain.

In the past few weeks we have been to Vancouver, Kelowna, Banff, and Toronto. Home has been the exception, almost. That's how it feels.

This week, Vancouver has come to us. Andrew and Anuschka are with us, and Anuschka's parents are here as well.

Tonight Susan and I get to meet Bill and Elizabeth. Bill is a fellow Vespa addict who rode in Wednesday from his home in New York City (yes, on his Vespa GTS.  Elizabeth flew in).

In the course of all the travel and visiting, we have enjoyed amazing food and wine in some wonderful places, and we're not done.

Add to this the privilege I have enjoyed of meeting and conversing candidly with a handful of people who are luminary giants in corporate governance in Canada.

On a more gritty level, I also stripped down a Vespa GTS, fixed the cooling system, and put it back together. Oh, and I installed two brand new doors in the house, and helped my son Jonathan move into his new house in Toronto.

Yesterday we ran short of vehicles. Rain squelched the scoot commute, and Andrew and Anuschka needed the Civic.

That is how I  came to take the train. The train has its pleasures too. Like blogging my way to work in air-conditioned comfort.

A refreshing change of pace.

Alas, still no pictures here.  They will come, but I need to spend some time fetching them out of iPhoto and pasting them here.  When life starts hopping, blogging gets a short shrift.

I sprang a leak. So did Andrew.

Yesterday when I was leaving work I noticed a leak under my bike.

I looked and could find no evidence of a leak and assumed that someone else had parked in my spot and left the stain.

Today at lunch time I went to stow a purchase in my topcase.  I had parked one spot over to convince myself that I wasn't the source of the leak.  Lo and behold, it is me leaking.

I traced the leak to the floor of the Vespa where you can see two drops forming on the underside of the chassis.

That, my friends, is what a coolant leak from a Vespa GTS looks like.  Another ModernVespa quasi-instant diagnosis.  Thanks to Craig (caschnd1 on MV), with MJRally, Madison Sully, and Jimc chiming in for good measure, for unhesitatingly identifying the problem.

I plan to ride home on quiet streets to avoid over-exercising the bike, and to keep a sharp eye on the temperature gauge.  I have some coolant at home and I'll top up the reservoir.

Some time over the weekend I'll open up the bike to see if I can spot where the leak is and assess whether I can repair it myself.  The Vespa shop manual is not exactly crystal clear, but I think the worst case may be that I need to order a new hose which I think I should be able to get from ScooterWest.

And so it goes.  The joy of owning a vehicle like me.  Old(er), that is.

I've been silent here because, as usual, summer draws to a close and I get really, really busy.

Last week Susan and I attended the CSCS annual conference in Banff.  We got there via Vancouver and a road trip with our son Andrew and his partner Anuschka (hereafter, the 'kids').

The road trip blossomed into a full-blown adventure involving a midnight Greyhound ride from Revelstoke to Banff.  Andrew and Anuschka repeated that feat 24 hours later.  Further adventures ensued as Susan drove the 'kids' back to Revelstoke in a rental car to re-unite them with their 2003 Mercedes E Class which by then had a new fuel injector.  If you have to get stuck, the Rockies offer stunning scenery to compensate for the pain. The silver lining was more time for us to enjoy our kids' company in Banff.  It was a lose-win.

And so it goes.  My son's joy in owning a car like me.  Old(er), that is.

I'll come back to post some of our overly breathtaking photos, just to make Sonja homesick.  Bob too, wherever he is.

The sound of music

It's not that I bear any ill will towards Julie Andrews.

 

She has that peculiar British pluck, that surprising worldly-wise wry sense of humor that her stately demeanor belies. Those are traits that I really do appreciate and greatly admire. If I am completely honest, there are even one or two tunes from My Fair Lady that I do enjoy when I happen to hear them, or, more likely, when they rise briefly from memory to play in my mind's ear. Admittedly that is, thankfully, a very, very rare occurrence nowadays.

You see, when I was a young'un, things were very different. Before the internet, before cable, before CDs, when HiFi not WiFi was the state of the art. In those distant times, still as sharp in my mind as the point of a tack, Julie Andrews show tunes including Camelot, My Fair Lady, The Sound of Music, and, of course, (shudder) Mary Poppins, were mercilessly etched into the neural pathways of my brain. Those LPs played and played relentlessly in our house, courtesy of one or two members of my family who shall remain nameless. They know who they are.

 

Just as my father-in-law, rest his soul, learned to despise even the sweetest, most succulent August corn, fresh from the harvest, its only crime being that it, and it alone, sustained his life through the unbearable hardships of World War II, I despise the sound, the merest suggestion even, of the vast majority of Julie Andrew's remarkable body of work, and chief among them, the sweet treacly Sound of Music.

It's a small wonder then that I appreciate music at all. But I truly do.

 

Jazz moves me, almost unfailingly. And the blues, well, nothing resonates more agreeably than a really good blues track.

Oddly, counter-intutively, the place I enjoy the music I love the most, is on the road, playing in my helmet, as I cruise along. That's the sound of music I'm talking about.

 

Wednesday morning was one of those mornings. I came to work through Outremont, south over the eastern shoulder of the mountain on Park, west up Pine Avenue to Peel, then south again sweeping down Peel past the McGill Faculty of Law, right on de Maisonneuve, left on Mountain and into the underground parking at 1350 René-Lévesque. That last bit was accompanied by Colin James' rendition of Three Hours Past Midnight.

If you have a Sena SMH10, synched to an iPhone, and you wear ear plugs (yes ear plugs), you know what I mean. Man oh man!

If I had to make a list of the most surprising things I have experienced since I began riding a motorbike, that experience easily tops the list as the most surprising, the most unexpected, the most inexplicably marvelous.

It is the confluence of things that, by themselves, taken individually, you would never expect could yield such a pleasurable result. I certainly never would have believed it.

 

Take ear plugs to start. Ear plugs are born of pain, suffering, and fear. Certainly not pleasure by any means. I had read that some riders wore ear plugs. I had read forum posts by experienced riders exhorting fellow riders to wear them. Even offering free ear plugs to anyone willing to try them out. Nuts I thought. Crazy what people think. Ear plugs? I want to hear the idiot coming at me thanks very much! Sheesh!

 

And then I cut my windshield to an unfortunate height. The deep rumbling turbulence drummed maddeningly in my ears. I truly feared irreversible loss of hearing. I met a rider whose loud pipes had so far saved his life, but sadly largely destroyed his hearing. And so I resorted to ear plugs. Yuck. It took forever for my tender ears to accept them without pain. I hated my footsteps resonating in my skull with every stride I took. It felt terrible. But at least I wasn't going slowly deaf.

By the time I recut the windshield to a more sensible height that eliminated the sonic cranial assault, a curious thing had happened. I was accustomed to wearing ear plugs. I could still hear surrounding traffic just fine. It was the harsh sounds of riding that were pleasantly muted. The wind tearing at my ears had become a pleasant rush, the sound of my bike had acquired a nice soothing tone, I felt more attuned to the traffic around me, more immersed in the ride, less distracted by the clatter of the commute. It was a revelation. The first revelation. Riding without ear plugs was harsh.

And then the Sena happened. I got it as a Christmas gift for my road trip with Bob and Karen. I was after the intercom. The phone connectivity was a bonus, maybe. And the sound of music a very, very distant consideration, if at all. I worried that the Sena protruding on the left side of my helmet would emit more troublesome turbulence. I wondered if I could still wear ear plugs and be able to use the Sena effectively. I was sure there would be painful trade-offs to endure.

 

But the ability to communicate effectively on a road trip was worth the hassle.

 

Let me say now that the unexpected result of combining these elements that individually have potentially noxious features, is heaven. There is no turbulence from the Sena. And the Sena is fine with ear plugs. More than fine. By some accoustic black art, ear plugs raise the Sena to sound studio perfection. Phone calls and the intercom are crystal clear, like a Star Trek communicator. Completely impossibly perfect. As if I am government agent with a million dollar communications system at my disposal. It's that good. People are amazed that I'm riding at 100 kilometers an hour while we chat.

 

And the music... the sound of music... bliss inducing. That's the only way I can describe it.

 

Can I still hear the traffic? Absolutely. Am I distracted? Not one little bit.

 

The music playing has an insulating effect similar to the earplugs. My ability to focus on the traffic is improved. The music soothes, calms my mind, eliminates the need to rush, the impulse to dart. It gives me a serene environment where cool thought focuses my attention on what's truly important, the traffic that surrounds me, the distance I'm maintaining from the vehicle in front of me, the intentions of the drivers in adjacent lanes, and the rest of my commuter's world.

 

That's my sound of music.

 

If I've piqued your curiosity, and you think you might give ear plugs a try, I suggest ordering a trial pack of earplugs from the Aerostitch catalog. For under $20 you'll get a grab bag of different high-quality ear plugs in assorted sizes, shapes and colours. The likelihood is that you'll find a pair or two in the lot that will work for you. Or you can pick some up in the hardware store where the safety equipment is sold, or at your local pharmacy. Ordering from legendary Aerostich is just plain fun all by itself though.

 

Be warned though, the eventual pleasure that ear plugs promise, comes with some short term pain. A little like new shoes, or leather flip-flops that cause pain for a while before making friends with your body. I suggest you bear with it. Ear plugs will surely pay dividends over time by saving your hearing, but surprisingly will reward you in the near term too, by increasing your riding pleasure.

 

The kill switch

This is one of those things that can fuel annoying bar debates.

Like the over-under toilet paper roll issue. The next time that one rears its head, click here, bone-up on the topic, swig some beer to wet your whistle, then weigh in well-armed.

Back to the kill switch.

Every bike has one. Unless you ride a vintage bike, in which case, maybe not.

I don't think there is a topic that breaks more randomly among riders. Other topics that spawn vigorous debates, like counter-steering versus steering-by-leaning, tend to separate along experience lines, with the pros on the counter-steering side of the debate and the others on, well, the other side.

Not so with kill switch debates. There are expert riders on both sides of this one.

I'll do my best to summarize the arguments on both sides of the issue.

Arguments in favour of ignoring the kill switch:

• Always leave it in the run position, it serves no real purpose except shutting off the motor in an emergency (dropped bike, accident, stuck throttle, etc.);
• It's not designed for more than occasional use, using it two or three times a day will cause it to fail, and strand you with a bike that won't start;
• If you get into the habit of shutting the motor off with the kill switch, you'll forget to turn off the ignition and when you return to your bike you'll have a dead battery;
• If the bike is fuel injected, the kill switch will not turn off the fuel pump, and it is not good to have fuel pressure in the injector(s) with the motor not running; and
• If you use the kill switch and leave the ignition on, the headlight will overheat and melt the lens or headset cover (Vespa specific argument).

Arguments in favour of using the kill switch:

• If you make a point of using the kill switch to turn off the motor, in the event of an emergency, you'll already have the muscle memory and will be able to shut the bike off instantly;
• Kill switches may fail like any other switch, but actual failures are more of an urban myth than a real problem. The turn indicator switch gets far more use, does that fail very often?
• The kill switch is just literally handy. You can turn off the bike without taking your hand off the handle bar. It maintains total control over the bike until the engine is off, it's just a safer way to manage the bike;
• If you don't get into the habit of using both the kill switch and the ignition, some devil will flick your kill switch off on a whim, and when you attempt to get going, you'll end up thinking something died and your bike won't start. The kill switch won't be front of mind;
• If you're ever on a rental bike or a loaner, you won't be familiar with the ignition switch location and the distraction of locating the ignition switch while the bike is running is just another safety issue. Kill switches on the other hand are always located within easy reach on the handle bar; and
• The US Motorcycle Safety Foundation course teaches new riders always to use the kill switch.

As you already know from a recent post, I use the kill switch.

The compelling reason as far as I am concerned is that if you don't get used to using it you'll eventually forget that it exists and you won't be able to figure out why your bike won't start if by some fluke (or courtesy of a passer-by) the kill switch gets flipped. The secondary arguments that work for me are the safety-related ones.

I got used to doing this with my carbed Vespa LX150.  I noticed (and more importantly Susan noticed) that when I came home and parked the new fuel-injected bike, there was sometimes a raw gasoline odor in the garage.

I still use the kill switch for the same reasons, but now I have reversed the shut-off sequence.  I turn off the ignition and then turn the kill switch off.  It seems to solve the problem.  I checked, and at least for a fuel-injected Vespa GTS 300, when you turn on the ignition with the kill switch on (i.e. disabling the motor), the fuel pump does activate.  I take that to mean that the fuel remains pressurized when the kill switch stops the engine.

If you care to explore samples of the debate,

• click here for one of the ModernVespa threads, 
• click here for one of the ADVrider threads, and 
• click here for an interesting debate on Reddit.

Are you a killer?

Foul weather work-around

The weather god is very angry with us here.

The sky has been banded with ominous dark clouds, and we have had liberal doses of heavy rain.

I've been seeing too much of my Civic. I miss my Vespa.

So I did the perfectly logical thing to ease the pain.

I re-branded my Civic.