Travel, and Travel with Parosites

Welcome back to Life on two wheels.

Every now and then, when you leave your comfort zone behind, remarkable things happen.

Remarkable?

Yes, truly remarkable things.

Things that alter your perception. Quite simply, things that change your life... for the better of course.

To illustrate, I give you a vlog episode musing on travel, and a companion journal entry on the blog which follows immediately below. Not surprisingly, I think that the one compliments the other. But you already knew that.

First the vlog episode in which I attempt to explain the somewhat challenging relationship I have with travel. I told Stephanie Yue during her interview in Episode 35 of the Vlog that I wasn't a traveler, which Stephanie thought was "nuts". In a way she was right, and yet...  I'm not a traveler. It's complicated. This episode of the vlog seeks to provide some insight. It may, or may not... sigh...

... and now, without much further ado, herewith a reading of the first gospel of the Parosites.

So it came to pass that my beloved wife and lifelong companion Susan, dragged my sorry ass far, far to the east. So far east, that truly, never easter had I ever ventured.

In that mystical way I came to be delightfully yet utterly stranded. We were on an island far, far away, in the middle of the fabled Aegean sea, in the ancient haunts of Zeus, Poseidon, and ModernVespa fellow member Aviator47 (may he rest in peace) who made a significant contribution to my Tuscan Loop. We came to be cut off from the world we knew by winds so fierce that no boat would sail, and no plane would fly. We quite simply had no means of egress.

What to do?

We soon found ourselves in the company of another couple. For the sake of this incredible narrative, let’s just call them Errol and Lisa.

I will now share with you what happens when strong winds blow and a Jew, a Catholic, another Catholic, and another Jew, Canadians all, set out to plumb the secrets of a marvelous island where the spirit of Ulysses and of the Odyssey remain present to this very day.

Should this story cause an awakening in you, should you choose to become, of your own free will, a pilgrim, an adherent of a sort, a fellow traveler of a new order, to become followers of a new and mysterious cult, set your course for Paros and Anti-Paros. There you may yet find our footsteps on the sandy shores, on the pebbled beaches, perchance, in the very rock of this island paradise.

Every journey worth the telling of its tale requires a beast of burden. Christianity traces its roots to wise men on the backs of camels. We chose a Panda. Pandas are large enough to carry four prophets in comfort, they are fierce and strong enough to ward off evil, kind and gentle enough to ease fears and carry on tirelessly, as well as nimble and sure-footed enough to venture to the very furthest reaches of the realm, to the loftiest peaks, to the very ends of Paros, to the very peak of Anti-Paros, and to the threshold of its truly mysterious depths, where the ancients scrawled a precious few words of wisdom on the stalactites and stalagmites of the depths, those silent and stoic witnesses to the countless millennia of human evolution.


We came to call ourselves Parosites. We are Parosites. You can become a Parosite too. Parosititus is simply the encapsulation of the lessons we learned, that we have vowed to impart to others who wish to follow on the enlightened path we, your prophets, your icons, forever after have pledged to follow.

Fear not. Like early Jews, Christians, Buddhists, Muslims, Hindus, Persians, Egyptians, Incas, Mayans, and other predecessor religious orders, behold here the true font of all that is Parosititus. It is simple. We have no commandments, and we have few rites, though we do suggest some modest guidelines that Parosites must commit to memory.

Notwithstanding the essential simplicity of the new religion we impart to you, and of the fundamental truths we pledge to seek in your company, Errol, Lisa, Susan and I concurred that we couldn’t do without some form of worship. So we have worship. But relax, there are no armies of saints to memorize, no repetitive obsessive-compulsive hand or body motions you are required to perform. You need only worship the four of us.

The only gesture you may choose to adopt, should you wish to embrace it, but that is by no means required of even the most devout Parosite, is to greet fellow Parosites with a benign smile and the merest hint of a wry knowing wink, while raising your middle finger proudly in a form of salute. The Parosite's salute.

Oh... we also decided to have tithes. We, the four founding brothers and sisters, accept, with absolute humility, and a solemn vow to avoid all forms of conspicuous unbecoming consumption, including travel on private jets or yachts over 50 feet, or other overt displays of wealth or privilege (other than travel in business class), annual, quarterly, monthly, weekly, or daily donations of small and modest gratuities never, ever, under any circumstances, to exceed 25% of Parosites’ net, after-tax annual income. Bear in mind that no amount is too small, and all donations will be acknowledged promptly on Twitter (#Parosites, #PandasRule). The Parosites’ PayPal account will be up and running in no time at all, so please be patient. In the meantime BitCoin tithing is encouraged. Your generosity is our pride and joy.

We trace our awakening to a modest table in a simple yet elegant restaurant a stone’s throw from row upon row of frond parasols and the gentle, cool and rythmic surf. This became a recurring theme. A meme really. Could it have been that our table was in fact a white marble altar? Yes, that must have been the first of many revelations. I asked Errol “Errol my dear friend and fellow traveler, what must this table weigh?” In truth, the white slab was a good three or four inches thick, four or five feet long, and the width of a generous kitchen table. The altar of the Parosites. It will surely weather the test of time.

Please bear in mind that in the very beginning we knew not that we were Parosites. True awakening, true fellowship in the path of the Parosites, dawns slowly.

Days later, as our trusty Panda carried us onward and outward bound, our consciousness rose and blossomed. In that way, a second truth revealed itself to us, once more with the blue expanse of the Aegean spread before us, shimmering in the midday sun, as we sat before a glorious meal of octopus and pizza. The essential revelation was this: when as a Parosite, you find yourself faced on the one hand with a choice of labour, toil, or industry, and on the other hand with the alternative of strolling ankle or knee-deep in the cool welcoming surf after a glorious heavenly meal, soon followed by an afternoon siesta on a lounge chair lulled to the very doorstep of a snooze by the rhythms of the sea and of the breeze in the palms ... always choose the latter.


The charcoal grilled octopus might have become the perfect emergent animal spirit and icon for our new religion... but for a later revelation, in another moment of enlightenment, that the leech was to be the true and lasting icon of our faith.

If you feel compelled to seek the comfort of a good book, a compendium, or guide to the meaning of life, beyond the simple truths laid before you here, by all means rely on the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and the immortal words of Douglas Adams who famously recommended "... to congregate at boundary conditions. Where land meets water. Where earth meets air, Where body meets mind. Where space meets time." He also observed, quite rightly "I love deadlines, I love the whooshing sound they make as they go by." Clearly he must have been an early Parosite.

Nevertheless, to be a true believer, a true Parosite, you need only worship the four of us, scrupulously and periodically submit your tithes, and commit to memory and forever loosely abide by the following Ten Guidelines:

I. Seek out and ponder the surf, and immerse yourself in it, unless it’s too damn cold.

II. Worship no idols save for Errol, Lisa, Susan and David, and learn from their indolence.

III. Study the ways of the leech, only then can you become a true Parosite.

IV. Always seek the perfect pizza, borne of a blistering smoldering brick oven.

V. In ordinary conversation or in the game of bridge, wheresoever you may be, when there is a mention of trump, raise the Parosite’s salute and spit upon the floor.

VI. Apologize at every turn, and learn to say “Eff-Harry’s-toe”.

VII. When your Panda tears a paw, seek out a kind fixer in the dead of night to shod the beast with new rubber for a modest fee.

VIII. When the pavement ends, carry on regardless and seek the ocean, even when the peril seems great, and the Panda scrapes its belly on the rocky soil.

IX. When you are speaking the truth to Parosites, never fail to embellish it with stretchers and knee-slappers.

X. When on the path to your resting place for the day, up is always right, and down is out.

So there you have it. Parosititus. It’s truly simple, and simply enlightening. Become a Parosite. You won't regret it.

That's it for a riveting double travel, lifestyle, and religion edition of Life on two wheels. Don't forget to like the video, please click to subscribe to the Life on two wheels YouTube channel, and don't forget to visit the blog where you'll find the Touring Guide, the Gear Guide, and so much more! See you next time, on life on two wheels!

The music for this episode of Life on two wheels is Mysteries  by Dan Lebowitz, made available courtesy of the YouTube Audio Library.

If you are interested in moto-touring routes in the UK, check out the following infographic published by Trago.

Finally, here are the links to the moto-adventure travelers mentioned in the video:

Stephanie Yue:
It's easier to link to Stephanie's Life on two wheels profile that contains links to her blog, professional website, and most of the interviews she has given

Lois Pryce:
http://www.loisontheloose.com/

Steph Jeavons:
https://stephjeavons.com/meet-steph
http://www.stephmoto-adventurebikeblog.com/

Michael Strauss:
http://soloscooterist.com/

Ken Wilson:
http://lostboater.com/

Bill Leuthold:
http://billleuthold.blogspot.com/

Tim and Marisa:
https://www.notiersfrontiers.com/
https://www.notiersfrontiers.com/wherewearenow.html

The unicorn fridge, Ikea, and a Vespa

Well I'm at it again!

Shopping for seemingly impossible things to carry on my Vespa.

This time it's a 36"X15"X24" Sektion over-the-fridge wall cabinet from Ikea.

It all started when our Bosch fridge up and died in the dead of night.

Fortunately, we discovered the looming food disaster when we returned from the airport with Andrew, Anuschka, and Kaia who came to celebrate Lauren and Harris' wedding. Talk about a good news, bad news, great news story.

It turned out, of course, that our dead Bosch fridge was a unicorn! Basically, it turned out to be one-and-a-half critical inches shorter than any other fridge we could find in the market. That meant that our built-in custom kitchen cabinetry was built in a way that would not accommodate any of the new fridges.

The only solution was to replace the cabinet with one that was 15" from top to bottom, rather than the 30" cabinet installed in our kitchen.

Then it turned out that the very nice folks who updated our kitchen when we renovated a couple of years back were retiring. While they agreed to make the new custom cabinet doors we needed, the cabinet was turning out to be... well let's just say that we were on our own on that score.

That's when Ikea came to the rescue!

Susan was at work with the car, and I was itching to start work on the cabinet. What to do... what to do??

The answer, don't you know, was painfully obvious!

Fetch the cabinet from Ikea on my Vespa!

And there you have it. Another exciting episode of Life on two wheels!

The music for this episode is Morning Stroll  by Josh Kirsch/Media Right Productions made available courtesy of the YouTube Audio Library, as usual. Thanks YouTube!

Catching Ms. Yue

Welcome to episode 35 of the vlog: Catching Ms. Yue.

The vast majority of our fellow humans are dedicated to a 9-5 work regimen (or to even more demanding jobs). We live relatively close to where we work and we commute from home to work week in, and week out, with precious few breaks in the routine.

That is why there is something very special about adventurers. These are people who decide to uproot their lives and head out to discover the planet.

In this episode I share an interview with Stephanie Yue at the 2018 Isle de Wolfe scooter rallye. By the time I managed to snag a few precious minutes of free time with Steph the sun was rapidly fading, along with the quality of the video. I have Steph's boyfriend Fred to thank because he agreed to act as the second camera man.

Steph has ridden Serenity, her Vespa GTS, through all 49 continental states of the USA, and her most recent adventure was a moto tour in Pakistan.

You can learn a lot about someone like Steph by following her blog. But nine times out of ten, there is no way to connect the voice to the blogger. This interview scratches that itch. If you visit her rider profile on the Rider Profiles page, you will find links to other interviews, but, as far as I know, until I stand corrected, this is the first YouTube interview of the intrepid Ms. Yue.

With a little luck this may not be the last time I have the privilege of catching up with her.

The music for this episode is Game Plan by Bad Snacks, made available thanks to the YouTube audio library.

Going out on another limb

I am edging myself cautiously into new territory: e-commerce

I have no illusions and, while I will earn a 10% commission on the sale of WrapTies through this journal (click here or go to the "Shop: WrapTies" link above), I am more motivated by the opportunity to promote an excellent new moto product and by the excitement of experimenting with an e-commerce affiliate setup.

Hopefully I have managed to set up the page properly.

I have also added a link in the Gear Guide.

You always pay a price

Every choice we make requires that we pay a price.

Most of you know that last fall I made a series of choices along a path leading back to the practice of law. There were many baby steps. My sister Joanne insisted I had to meet with a law firm in the building where she works. They seemed really nice, and they were interested in meeting me.

I have a long standing policy of investigating every opportunity that comes my way. When I was in my early teens my Dad looked away from an opportunity that, in hindsight, would have been a game changer for all of us. I vowed that I would never do that. That vow led me to investigate many opportunities, a good number of which were game changers for me.

This blog, the vlog, and the chronicles you explore here are one example.

The dream of owning a Vespa, turned into the Scoot Commute, then Life on two wheels, the vlog, and adventures on two wheels in Montreal, Toronto, Vancouver, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, New York, New Hampshire, Maine, Florida and Italy. That opportunity alone was like opening an old cardboard box and discovering unimagined splendors and treasures wrapped in old newspapers.

Where was I... right, I met with some really nice people at the firm and I realized there was an opportunity to return to the practice of law on my terms. Wow, I never would have guessed. That revelation triggered the baby steps. I had to come out of retirement, apply for re-instatement to active practice with the Quebec Bar; apply to the Law Society of Ontario for the right to practice in Ontario on an occasional basis; and then... why not fully qualify in Ontario?

Well you know how that turned out.

In January I began that quest. It seemed like it might not be excruciating. I only had to write and pass two exams. When I wrote the Quebec Bar exams, way back in 1980, there were six exams. That's like a two-thirds-off deal!  Then I found out that there were only two exams in Ontario. Every aspiring lawyer must leap those two hurdles. Two, seven-hour, 240 question exams. Gulp! At sixty-five, was my brain still up to it? At least Bar exams are open book. Still...

The materials made up about 2,300 pages, six three-ring binders' worth, in eight or nine point font, double-sided, with tiny margins. I bought highlighters. First yellow, then I added blue and green. I underlined, scrawled annotations in the tiny margins, took notes, did research, looked up Supreme Court cases, read key passages of more statutes than I care to remember. The Income Tax Act, the Criminal Code, the Residential Tenancies Act, the Family Law Act, the Personal Property Security Act, the Federal Court Act, the Courts of Justice Act, regulations under those acts... the list went on, and on, and on. I took notes. 497 pages of notes in 9 point font, plus 128 pages of subject matter, case law and legislation indexes. I have never, in my life, written so much.

Thank heavens the enormity of the task only became apparent bit by bit. Had I known the scale of the challenge before setting out, would I have done it?

How did I do it?

With the exception of two one-week breaks in Los Angeles, San Diego and Vancouver, I devoted 10-12 hours, every single day of the week, every week of the month, from mid-January to mid-June, sitting at my desk, surrounded by paper, chained to my keyboard, with my eyes alternating from the books on the desk to the computer screen.

I passed both exams.

What a price to pay!

And yet, like the price of a car, or of a fancy meal in fine restaurant, or of a kitchen renovation, the price to be paid comes with extras like taxes and tips.

In my case, that extra somewhat unanticipated cost came later, like a delayed final invoice.

In my mind, once the stress of studying, writing and passing the exams was behind me, I was going to spend a glorious summer riding and exploring, blogging and vlogging, celebrating my success with friends and family. Basically exploiting the law of averages by simply having a ball.

Hmmmm...

The final invoice landed on me a couple of weeks back. I knew I had gained weight. As my brother-in-law Chuck famously said, my exercise regimen for six months consisted of jumping to conclusions and pushing my luck. Between that, and consuming the calories my grey cells desperately needed, I gained weight. My office has mirrored sliding closet doors. I could see the weight slowly spreading like an unsightly unwanted bulge where my waist used to be.

Exercise would be the welcome cure. That's how I planned to balance the scales.

But wait... there was more.

Turns out that when you spend a ridiculous amount of time scouring pages and pages of paper, and typing endless pages of notes, your body decides that this is the new 'normal' and, without consulting you, adapts to what it perceives as the new rhythm of your life.

When you decide to return to the old 'normal', your body says "what the..." and rebels like a spoiled sulking ungrateful child.

In my case, in an attempt to keep me slouched in the best position for reading and typing 11-ish hours a day, my body threw me a curve in the form of what I'm guessing is a pinched nerve somewhere in the vicinity of C6 and C7. Before this I had never given my cervical vertebrae a second's thought.

Holy crap! I can't ride, heck, I can't even walk for more than twenty paces with my head on the level. Tylenol and Cyclobenzaprine are my new best friends.

It's possible that after two weeks, a trip to the doctor's office, a trip to the physiotherapist, two invasive deep massage sessions (feels like you're a chicken being boned without the aid of a knife), and four torture sessions with a chiropractor, I may be seeing a pinpoint of light at the end of the tunnel.

Last week I had no choice but to ride Thunderbird for a legally-required safety exam prior to its sale to its new owner.

Look how happy Paul is!

That was sixteen-and-a-half painful kilometers.

I was praying for red lights. Long ones. Shift into neutral, come to a stop, release the clutch, and stretch my left arm over to the right side of the bike as I more or less kissed the gas tank... relief from the pain. The light changes, clutch, shift, accelerate, and the pain begins to travel from my neck, under my left clavicle, radiating down my left arm, cramping my elbow, throbbing in my wrist... taking my breath away... where is another red light?????

I survived.

In about a half hour I'm off to another chiro session. The last? I don't know. This morning I did return to the exercise regimen I foolishly abandoned last fall. That lifted my spirits.

Baby steps.

I will ride again.

Pain free.

Soon.

I hope.

2018 Isle de Wolfe Scooter Rally

At last! A major motion picture from Life on two wheels studios!

This is it! The long-awaited world premiere of the Life on two wheels Isle de Wolfe Scooter Rally movie.

There are stars, breathtaking action, traffic jams, Lambretta meltdowns, howling wolves, daring inter-continental and pan-continental adventurers, a dog in doggles, treacherous ferry crossings, the heart-stopping pop-pop-pop-pop staccato of vintage scooters in heat, massive clouds of blue poisonous smoke, and much, much more.

Come with me as I saddle up and head out to the very border of Ontario, to the DMZ separating us from mighty Trumplandia, the US of A, on isolated island straddling where the inland sea of the Great Lakes meets the mighty St-Lawrence.

Quick, grab the popcorn and the diet Coke, click on the video, and immerse yourself in a true summer action blockbuster!

Did I say it was free? IT'S TOTALLY FREE FOR THE WATCHING! Amazing.

Life on two wheels studios, making Canada great again, one video at a time.

Editor's remark: there is a second version of the video that repairs a minor glitch, no harm in leaving both in the channel.

A heartfelt apology

I need to apologize to my friends and readers, in no particular order...

Sonja, Richard, Dom, Steve, Karen, Bill, Peter, Jim, Michael, Brandy, Kathy, Ry, Ken, Mike... I have been mostly absent here, and on your blogs. Partly it's a busy-ness and time disruption, partly it's a cycle and habit disruption... but whatever the root external excuse may be, it's really just me not being here for you.

It doesn't help that Google has chosen to cease sending email alerts when new comments are posted. But that's just another excuse, after all...

What I need to do is to work adapt to the changes, and just do it, as Nike used to encourage us all to do.

I was shocked this morning to find your comments piling up on recent posts, with me thoroughly distracted and unaware.

I am going back to respond to each and every one.

I am also hoping to change my lifestyle to more fully adapt to my new reality. It's easy when you make huge changes in your life to just go with the flow and let the big events you set in motion carry you along on the current.  The risk is that as you float along like a cork in a stream, you don't realize the things that are no longer there. It's remarkably hard to spot things that go missing. Like the dutiful butler answering knocks on the front door who simply vanishes one day without a sound, who knows when.

It's me, not you, dear friends.

Let's see if I can make amends, shall we?

Warm regards to each and every one of you, you are important to me.