Spoiled

I am back to the mundane world of commuting on two wheels.

It's not as exciting as touring, but commuting is still an inexhaustible source of satisfaction.  My commutes this week have been blissful.  Any route I choose has its pleasures.  I am spoiled that way.

Monday on the way home I took the slow scenic route.  It occured to me that I could take a look at what may be Montreal's most curious heritage building: our very own, essentially unknown, shot tower.  A turn-of-the-nineteenth-century industrial revolution museum piece.  Essential for making musket balls and buckshot.

It looks like a chimney, but only if you're not very observant.  For instance, are those windows? That is how our one and only shot tower manages to hide in plain sight.  Who would have thunk?  Not me!

I only found out about it a few weeks ago when doing a little homework on shot towers as a tidbit to add to my reference to Mark Twain's disparaging comment on the Tower of Pisa.  I have been riding right by it several times a week going on five years and never once guessed what it really was.

Montreal has a lot of history.  Montrealers are spoiled that way. You can see how a little thing like a shot tower could slip by under the radar, even in what is now a residential neighbourhood.

Tuesday morning was overcast and cool when I set out on the morning commute.

Throwing caution to the wind, I chose my BMW Airflow jacket and Tucano Urbano mesh gloves.  These are my coolest riding gear choices... because they keep me nice and cool.

I am spoiled to have choices.

On the way to the expressway (I was running late), I zipped up my jacket as the slightest chill got to my open collar.

After a mile or two of running on the highway, I felt a little chill on my hands.

I reached down and dialed in some heat to the grips.

Aaaahhhhh! Seriously spoiled.

PS: Doug went to visit the Dubuque shot tower.  His post is here.

Tuscan Loop - Epilogue and lessons learned

This may become a ScootCommute tradition.  Once a tour is in the bag, so to speak, it's time to reflect and do a little analytical thinking.  There are lessons to be learned in most everything we do.

Tearing a leaf from last year's tour, I'll start with the philosophical before tackling the practical.

It may seem that renting a bike to tear around a corner of Europe with some friends is a no-brainer, but it certainly wasn't in my case.  First off, it was a rather unique and expensive family vacation.  Taking a whole day for me-time without putting a damper on the family time required some diplomacy.  I also needed to impose on the family to get me to and from the starting point.  That's a 60 kilometer round trip.  My sons Jonathan and Andrew stepped up to the plate without hesitation.  I brim with pride.

And then there was reaching out to friends so see if they could join in.  I didn't want to impose.  They would have a minimum of four days of road travel to get to the starting point and return home.  Quite an investment of time and resources for a one-day joy ride in the countryside.

Do these people look like reluctant participants to you?

Sonja and Roland, bless your hearts.

And then there were logistics.  Finding a reputable place to rent a bike, getting the right bike for the ride, figuring out what gear to take, planning the itinerary.  Not exactly an expedition to Nepal.  But not trivial either.  Fortunately ModernVespa and its wonderful cadre of helpful members helped out, endorsing  Noleggio Moto Toscana and Roberto.  Thanks to Al Gravola (Aviator47).  You rock, and as you predicted, Roberto rocks too!

Arranging the Tuscan Loop, as you can see, needed some amount of stepping out of my comfort zone.  The good news is that there were months available for the planning.

If I have words of wisdom to share with you, it's definitely to take the risk, step out, put yourself out there, and you will be rewarded with amazing experiences.

OK, that's out of the way.  On to the details.

I mentioned at the outset that I came close to choosing a Piaggio MP3 400 last year when I was in the market for a bigger bike.

Ultimately I chose the Vespa GTS 300 i.e. Super over the MP3 400.

Now that I've had the opportunity to spend an entire day putting an MP3 250 through its paces in an idyllic Tuscan setting, I can say with certainty that I'm very satisfied with the choice I made.

First the pluses.

The MP3 is an engineering marvel. When you ride the bike there is no sense that the bike has three wheels. It performs like pretty much any motorbike. Where you notice the difference most is when the bike deals with an edge trap. Edge traps simply cease being an issue when you ride an MP3. It just doesn't matter how you approach them. You can cross them at a more generous angle if you like. But even if you take them as shallow as can be, it's like they don't exist.

The fact is that I struggled in left hand turns, but that had nothing to do with the MP3 and everything to do with side stand issues I have with my Vespa. The MP3 is one stable and planted bike. I could love learning to lean that bike left or right like a Nova Scotia schooner in a gale force wind.

Moving on, I really liked the fuel filler location on the floor. It's an ideal location for touring, particularly when you are carrying gear on the passenger seat. It means you can fill up without unloading the bike. It's a much better setup than the Vespa where the access to the fuel tank is hidden under the seat.

It would be difficult to find more storage on a stock motorbike. The continuous and quite cavernous storage compartment running the length of the seat and extending to the bike's tail that can also be accessed through the separate trunk lid is extremely convenient. There is room for a three quarter helmet under the seat, and possibly a full face helmet. But not if you have a Sena SMH10 headset attached to the helmet.

Adding a topcase and sidecases would make the MP3 a really fine touring bike, but only if you were able to address some of its shortcomings that I'll get to in a bit.  Fehling makes side case brackets for the MP3.

The ignition key has a car-like fob with a button that releases the seat lock. That's also a nice convenience when you are getting ready to ride the bike and you need to retrieve gear from the underseat compartment.

The ability to park the bike the way you would park a car, by engaging the front suspension lock and parking brake is also quite convenient, making a sidestand unnecessary and also minimizing the need to use the center stand.

On the power train side, the MP3's CVT transmission provided the same smooth range of torque I've grown accustomed to with the Vespa GTS. The 250cc engine performed well, but I
did occasionally find I had the throttle twisted wide open and was wishing for more oomph. Still, the MP3 250 is a competent highway bike. I think the 400cc model must be pretty sweet. The top of the line 500 must be a beast.

On the minus side of the equation, the bike has shortcomings that I'd have to find workarounds for if I were ever to own one.

Ergonomics tops my list. I have to admit I am spoiled by Vespas. Vespas are really comfortable, whether you're just riding around town or riding across a continent. The Vespa saddle is comfortable, the seating position is excellent, and you can move your feet around, changing up your position to ward off monkey butt syndrome.

The MP3 on the other hand has a bolster that divides the driver's portion of the saddle from the passenger portion. In my case it meant I couldn't shift my bum back on the saddle, and the ridge of the bolster eventually proved to be a literal pain in the you-know-what.

Fortunately there are custom seats on the market, including this one from Shad that the legendary ScooterWest dealership keeps in stock.

If you can't shift your upper body around on the MP3, you find that your feet are more or less corralled into a single position too.  The tubular steel skeletal substructure of the MP3 leads to a high floor height. I felt like my knees were uncomfortably high. Compounding the seating issues was a tendency to slide forward on the saddle that resulted in a lazy slumped position that compounded the lack of comfort.

All told, the seating position was much better than a similarly laid out Kymco Frost I rode a few years back, but I wouldn't tour on an MP3 without having a custom saddle designed. I know that committed MP3 owners have taken that step and there's plenty of expertise available in the MP3 discussion area on ModernVespa. I would add to the custom saddle some after market foot pegs to allow the leg position to be varied.  There's also a supplier who posts on ModernVespa who has crafted highway pegs that many owners swear by.

Lastly, I'd add an adjustable windscreen.  The stock windscreen wasn't bad, but an adjustable windshield would be a nice touch.

It's time to come to a conclusion here.

If some good and very generous samaritan offered to trade an MP3 400 for my Vespa GTS 300, would I bite?

No.

What if it had the custom saddle and highway pegs?

No.

What if it had the custom saddle, footpegs, a large topcase and hard sidecases painted to match the bike?

Now that would be a really sweet maxi scoot. Now I'm tempted. Seriously tempted.

So what's the problem?

I love the Vespa's iconic styling. It's truly a thing of beauty. The MP3 has inner beauty in the engineering of that dual-wheel front end. But man oh man it makes the front of the bike so huge.   There's that, and somehow, the MP3 also has a fat ass.  It just looks like it's a lumbering beast of a bike.  It isn't that at all when you're in the saddle cruising along a Tuscan country road, trust me.  But the esthetics are definitely where the biggest rub is, at least for me.  Could I get over the looks...?

I guess the plain fact is that I couldn't last year. But with all the aforementioned goodies thrown in... so tempting. But in reality, no one is going to offer to make that trade. So it's a moot point.

I love my Vespa.

End of story.

But apparently not the end of the neverending epilogue.

I debated on the gear to bring.

If I could have waved a magic wand, I would have brought everything: helmet, Bluetooth headset, boots, armored jacket, gloves, rain gear, armored pants, RAM mounts, GoPro, GPS, ROK straps...

Reality intrudes.

I had to prioritize.

Helmet (could be rented, so not the helmet).  Jacket (had to take, feel naked riding without it).  Gloves (tiny, they come). Bluetooth (small, coming too).  Boots (also feel naked without boots - way bulky). Rain gear (my waterproof travel jacket can do double duty, packs small-ish). Armored pants (Oh boy, very bulky - not likely to come). RAM mounts (no way I was going to dismantle my RAM mounts, luckily I bought a universal RAM clamp - bazinga!).  GoPro Hero camera (tiny, plus it's a camera so goes in the camera bag).  GPS (I figured Roland and Sonja would have that covered - and they did.  Otherwise, knowledgeable people told me getting lost in Tuscany was a huge plus). ROK straps (the ROK pack straps are small - stuff'em in my camera bag).

Enough folks strongly recommended that I bring an armored jacket.  Sonja had a genius suggestion: can't pack it?  Wear it! So that became a relative no-brainer.  I pre-warned Susan that her travel companion might look a little dorky in transit because he would most likely be wearing a motorcycle jacket.  No protest. Dodged the bullet.  Not necessary, I am a packing wizard.  We had his and hers suitcases and I got all my stuff packed, including my Corazzo 5.0 jacket, with the armor in place.  Winning!

So if you're keeping track, the only gear items I would have liked to have but didn't bring were armored pants and boots.

There has to be some element of assumed risk.  My plan for my lower body was not to come off the bike.  And it worked. Phew!  Not crazy risk though, my upper body would be as safe as motorcycling at less then 100 km/h reasonably allows.

That's most likely it folks.  I think I have managed to press every bit of literary value out of the Tuscan Loop.  I took you through the planning, gave you as good a flavour of the pure joy of it as my talents permit, and dished up the nitty-gritty on the technical side of the page.

I'll come back to this post to fix the inevitable typos, sharpen a passage or two, and close the gaps I've managed to leave.

The end.

Motor Madness Month

That's right! The Grand Prix is in town and we're hoppin' n' rockin'.

But that's not all. If it's two-wheeled excitement you want, and you want to see real people having an extraordinary real life adventure, with thrills, spills, and chills, you really need to follow the 2014 Scooter Cannonball. It's maybe, just maybe, the best ever.

I've made it super simple for you. All the links you need are at the bottom of the right panel under 2014 Scooter Cannonball.

Hyder Alaska to New Orleans Louisiana via some of the most amazing scenery Canada has to offer.

If you want a place to start, check out the ModernVespa page. It's compelling stuff.

Here's a teaser for a documentary on the 2010 Cannonball.

Tuscan Loop - Farewell

The Museo Piaggio behind us, we made our way back to Motonoleggio Toscana so I could return the MP3.

Just like that, the Tuscan Loop ended.

I parked the bike, took the Sena headset off the helmet and returned the helmet to the shelf. I thanked Roberto profusely for the experience of a lifetime, and walked out the door.

Jonathan and Andrew were on their way to pick me up. Sonja and Roland were itching to ride into Pisa to visit the famous tower that Mark Twain referred to as the "old shot tower" when he visited in 1867. He noted that the tower could easily have been attributed to Michelangelo, had it not been "so awfully out of the perpendicular".  The city of Dubuque Iowa has a real shot tower they're proud of.  It sits not far from the mighty Mississippi, another topic that was dear to MT's heart.  I add the link because it helps to appreciate Mr. Twain's acerbic wit.

Sonja and Roland insisted on sticking around until my sons showed up though they would soon be faced with a setting sun. Such class. I felt bad having them cooling their heels in Pontedera when Pisa was beckoning.

Finally, Jonathan and Andrew pulled up at around 6:15 and Sonja and Roland rode off into the setting sun.  For once this hackneyed phrase is actually true, they were heading west, and the sun would soon be setting.

Later they e-mailed me a picture to show me what I had missed.

If the Pisan architects of the tower had suspected the sheer volume of visual puns that would be inflicted on that otherwise grand tower in the age of digital photography, they might have done a better job on the foundations.  Seriously, troll for images.  Among them you'll find this gem.

What you won't soon find is one quite as classy as the send-up by Roland and Sonja.

And that dear friends, is where the 2014 Blogger to Blogger Tuscan Loop ended, and the 2014 summer riding season began.

Up next: an epilogue.

Chips

Today, I polished off the last of the potato chips we bought on the second to last day in Florence.  No need to wax poetic over the chips.  Think Lays Classic and you'd be on the right track.

The only thing left before our Italian vacation is really and truly behind us, is to frame the watercolor print we bought on the way back to our rented condo from the Palazzo Pitti, on the approach to the Ponte Vecchio (X marks the spot).

 Susan and I always try to buy what we call travel art. Something we can hang on the wall as a reminder of the vacation. The family room is where we hang our travel art. Looking around the room I see Vancouver, Boston, London, Barcelona, San Francisco, Colorado Springs, Salt Lake City, Bryce Canyon and Ogunquit. I think we are behind in framing. Los Angeles is around here somewhere, not to mention Sorrento and Rome.

Now we'll have something to release a flood of fond memories from our too brief time in Tuscany.

Funny how awesome vacations begin to seem like a dream. You have to pinch yourself from time to time to remind yourself that they really did happen.

Still two more Tuscan Loop posts to come, sit tight.

Tuscan Loop - Museo Piaggio

We pulled into the driveway entrance of the massive Piaggio plant where our Vespas first saw the light of day. To a Vespa owner it's a little like the promised land.

We parked the bikes to the left of the entrance and prepared to tour the museum.

There was already one Vespa parked there which explains the four bikes, if you were expecting to see only three. We met the owner when we were getting ready to leave. She was a young German lady. Imagine her surprise when Sonja and Roland introduced themselves to her.

The thing that struck me most was how quiet the plant was for a weekday. I didn't expect to hear a 19th century cacaphony of hammers pounding metal amid showers of sparks, but I've seen more evidence of industry in the average hospital or even funeral home.

Entrance to the museum is free. And unattended. The only soul to be seen was the cashier in the museum gift shop. She was quiet and demure, to the point perhaps of seeming to be bereft of enthusiasm.

I didn't expect to be greeted by a delegation of Piaggio executives, much less to be offered some free Vespa swag. But hey, Sonja Mager and I are serious Vespa bloggers. We are volunteer ambassadors for the brand. Ken Wilson, Steve Williams, Dave Dixon, Orin O'Neill, Peter Sanderson, Bill Leuthold and others, are assets that Piaggio should at least acknowledge. And yet Piaggio seems officially and unofficially oblivious to the exposure we bloggers and ModernVespa.com forum participants lavish on their products.  I guess they don't get social media.  What they should be doing is monitoring the web and social media sites so that they know how the brand is faring for better or for worse.  They should know who their brand ambassadors are.

It's certainly true that the praise and devotion for the Vespa brand are well earned. But it seems to me that if I were the marketing manager for the brand, I'd make sure I had someone greeting visitors at the museum and finding out who they are.

When bloggers and serious brand ambassadors come calling at the museum, I'd find a moment or two to chew the fat, express some appreciation, and make them feel welcome. "Welcome to the Museo Piaggio! Where are you from? Do you own a Vespa or other Piaggio motorbike? If you care to, please sign in on our visitor guestbook."

Piaggio may own the rights to an icon, but that's where the story begins and ends. They built a decent museum and I guess they figure that's enough.

Anyone who questions whether Vespas have earned the top spot as the world's most iconic motorbikes will find all the convincing they may need at the Museo Piaggio.

I think I'll just let the pictures do the talking for a change.

As you can see I was drawn to the arty aspects of the experience.

Sonja and Roland on the other hand did a better job of revealing the museum and its collection. The following pictures are theirs.

 

You've come this far, and I know you are expecting this to be the end of the Tuscan Loop.

Geographically you'd be right, but there's still a little more virtual ink to be spilled before the Tuscan Loop can be considered officially closed.

Tuscan Loop - The Return

The return towards Pontedera to the northwest eventually took us out of wine and olive country to the river Arno valley bordered by Florence to the east and Pontedera and Pisa to the west.

While there were still plenty of twisties left to enjoy, I hailed Sonja on the intercom and suggested she pass me. I had my GoPro mounted on a RAM mount on the right mirror stem. Recording two bikes making their way comes closer to offering a glimpse of our experience on the Tuscan Loop.

My one regret was not having recorded more footage.  At one point earlier in the day I had neglected to switch the GoPro WiFi backpack off and its minuscule battery had depleted itself and a good bit of the camera battery too. I was able later in the day to record these segments because Bob very thoughtfully saved the day months before by giving me a Tenergy dual USB rechargeable battery pack.  With that I was able to plug in both GoPro components as long as they rode in the storage compartment.

A better solution would have been to have had the GoPro skeleton case and I would have been able to both charge and record. Sadly it seems now to be unobtainable for my Hero2 model.


The ride back to Pontedera was otherwise uneventful.  As much fun as riding the twisties is, it's also nice to be able to relax a little and just enjoy riding.

It was a nice ride back to Pontedera.  Just perfect, the way I had imagined it would be.

Up next: we visit the Museo Piaggio.  For legions of Vespa owners and lovers it's the shrine where the magic began, the birthplace of an icon, like Graceland for Elvis fans, Vegas for batchelor party animals, and Cannes and Hollywood combined for movie buffs.

Tuscan Loop - San Gimignano

The way to San Gimignano was as twisted, narrow and convoluted as any I have travelled. Susan and I, Andrew and Anuschka, Lauren, Jonathan and Vicky, had travelled in these parts just a few days before to get to Siena.

My skills were improving, but there was still little joy and much concentration to be found in those left hand sweepers.

The road began rising once more, twisting as it rose.

Roland spotted a secondary road veering left off the main road. We were in no hurry, and exploring was the order of the day. Off we went.

A fellow rider on a sport bike who had overtaken us impatiently, and in my estimation to his peril, fifteen or twenty minutes earlier, now swept by us in the opposite direction. I imagined he must be a courier and had made his delivery somewhere up the road. It turned out to be a clue and its significance was entirely lost on us until a little later on.

The sun shone brightly high overhead leaving few shadows and flattening the landscape. We rode at a moderate pace, swooping up, then down, left then right, with the road all to ourselves. Fields undulated with the road interspersed with olive groves and vineyards, farmhouses and isolated woodlots. The cypress trees stood like sentries here and there punctuating the landscape and making sure we didn't mistake the surroundings for anything but Tuscan countryside.

And then the dream ended. Rather the road ended. Well, it didn't actually end. We could have easily by-passed the unmanned road block and continued along. But for how long? Would we come to an eventual impasse? We confered on the intercom. We left it up to Roland. He thought about it out loud, weighing the explorer's thirst for adventure against the potential annoyance of having to undo the digression even more than would be the case if we turned around now.

With the slightest tinge of regret that drifted momentarily across his face, Roland made the U-turn and we headed back to the main road. The failed serendipity of the alternate bucolic route was well tempered, in fact entirely mitigated, by the obvious conclusion that the road was every bit as much fun to ride in reverse as it was on the way in. Somewhere along the way it dawned on me that Mr. Sportbiker had regretfully come to the same conclusion. We never crossed paths again. As I mentioned earlier, he was a clue, and we were clueless.

Somewhere between the roadblock and our return to the main road a snake made a mad squiggly dash across the road, about fifteen feet ahead of Roland's Vespa. That was a first for me, and I think a first for Roland. Certainly something you don't see every day. Roland came through on the intercom "did you see the snake??".

I'd say that snake was a good three-and-a-half or four feet long, and as black as the Ace of Spades. Skinny too. I'm guessing it was a nasty character with a mean disposition and irritable to boot. It made me think twice about how casually I had lain back in the tall grass to snap that shot outside of Volterra.

All thought of that incident melted away as we approached San Gimignano. I fear that words will fail to convey the wonder of that town. Don't bother heading to Google street view. Sure you'll find it allright, and yes you can stroll its street to your heart's content in the virtual world. I know, because I did that very thing in the weeks before our trip. But that experience pales beside the actual experience.

Once more we found the moto parking and stabled the bikes.

Sonja took charge of storming the town and led us up, and up, and up, until we found a path into the fortress. I'm not sure who was huffing and puffing most, but it wasn't Sonja. I believe that Roland and I were tied in the out-of-breath department.  The reward for the exertion was a terrace with beautiful views of the surrounding countryside.

We continued to explore the town, following our noses as tourists are wont to do.

One of the remarkable things about this ancient walled city, is that it is very much alive and lived in.

Along its narrow streets are doors.  Some of those doors allowed tantalizing glimpses of beautiful gardens, and of the residence beyond.  I can't even imagine what it would be like to live here.

Not too long after taking the citadel by storm, and roaming its streets we stumbled on the world's best (if self-proclaimed) gelateria, serving what could be the world's best gelato. As fate would have it, we three were ripe for gelato. It was sorely needed to replace all the calories lost in the climb.

Copyright Sonja Mager

Copyright Sonja Mager

Copyright Sonja Mager

And so it was that we parked our butts on a convenient bench and watched the never-ending stream of tourists coming and going, parading to and fro in the early afternoon sun.

Gelato only lasts so long. Once you're done, you're done. Time to move on.

We made our way to the centre of town. Roland explained that San Gimignano is a town of towers. Competing families expressed their lofty positions of power in the citadel's hierarchy by building massive towers, that, well, towered over the city, more or less the way the family towered over the town in the social and political sense. A crude message yet no doubt an effective one in the days hundreds of years before social media.

Copyright Sonja Mager

Copyright Sonja Mager

While we busied ourselves trying to fit the towers into the viewfinders of our cameras, I spotted a truck perched at the top of a flight of stairs. It lurched forward. No... you're kidding... you can't get here from there I thought. But no, in Italy I guess you can drive a truck down a flight of stairs.

Actually, technically, it wasn't a flight of stairs, more of a ramp with stone ridges, but let me tell you, it sure looked strange.

Having explored San Gimignano as thoroughly as we were enclined to do, having seen its treasure trove of baubles and do-dads for tourists, it was time to head for the bikes.

Thankfully we didn't need to climb up to the bikes. The law of averages is kind that way. We had gone up, strolled down, so that was it. It was a pleasant walk to the motorcycle parking.

On the way out of town, we climbed a hill and Roland pulled over for the quintessential Tuscan photo op: riders with the town of San Gimignano in the distance as a backdrop.  It doesn't get much better than that.

Copyright Roland Mager

Copyright Sonja Mager

And so we moved on. We had strayed as far from Pontedera as our agenda allowed. We had a date with the Museo Piaggio. The holy grail for Vespa owners the world over.

Stay tuned. There's more of the Tuscan Loop to come.