Ride to the land of fire

It's time once more to share some correspondence with a reader.  I think you'll find this interesting.  I know I do.  I've edited it only to correct typos from our fat-fingered typing, and to add links to make the references easy to follow.

Ralph writes:

I have been viewing your blog now for couple of months.

You have a very clear and unique prose style that makes for easy and enjoyable reading. Plus you do an excellent job in describing changes, additions and upgrades.

I would like your opinion on my consideration of riding a Vespa to Tierra del Fuego, Argentina.

This is not a new or novel idea as it has been done a number of times from what I can determine. The Germans have been running around South America on their high powered motorcycles.

I have read the following publications:

• Odyssey to Ushuaia, Andres Carlstein
• Old Man on a Bike, Simon Gandolfi,
• Dreaming of Jupiter, Jupiter's Travels, Ted Simon
• Anxiety across the Americas, Bill Dwyer

What Vespa would you recommend for such a trip? I noted your recent experience on the Vespa three wheeler. Is that one for such a trip?

I have been riding a 1996 Vespa for years and now have more than a hundred thousand miles on it. I changed the original engine for a  LML unit that has an electronic ignition system as an upgrade.

Any comments or feed back on this email?

Thanks,

Ralph

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Hi Ralph,

Thanks for the kind words.

A trip like that is truly an adventure. I don't have any experience with that sort of tour, but I have read accounts of long distance touring on Vespas.

If it were me, I'd choose the Vespa you've got, or something similar. Vintage Vespas or their more modern counterparts like the P200, have the advantage of being much simpler machines mechanically, and parts are more readily available.

I've read accounts of riders who have gone that route and those that rode motorcycles went for something light and mechanically simple like a Kawasaki KLR or a Honda XR or another relatively simple dual-sport bike.

With any of the modern Vespas you'll need to change tires and belts for a trip of that length, and you are unlikely to find the parts you'll need in many places in Mexico, or Central or South America.

The vintage Vespas are similar in terms of being a) very reliable and b) relatively simple to work on. Check out the Cannonball links on the right side of my blog page. If you go to the official Scooter Cannonball page, you'll find the blogs of some of the vintage Vespa and Stella riders.  See if you can get in touch with some of them. Riders of two-stroke scooters have basically rebuilt their vintage bikes in their motel rooms on more than one occasion.

My other advice is to join the Modernvespa.com forum, and go to the Not-so-Modern discussion group. That's where all the vintage Vespa owners hang out. You'll get excellent advice there.  You'll find links to the ModernVespa Cannonball threads for 2014, 2012 and 2010 in the sidebar.

Also check out Ken Wilson's Cross Egypt Challenge page in my links in the sidebar.

Finally, there are some South Africans who have ridden from Cape Town to Dublin. See capetowntodublinbyscooter2013.blogspot.com.

On their blog they list the reasons for selecting their scooters (4 speed manual, two stroke, LML scooters). One word of caution though, read the official 2014 Cannonball thread on ModernVespa. There is a link to the thread on my blog. Someone in the 2014 Cannonball was riding a Stella (LMLs are marketed in the US as Stellas) and I think they ran into some issues.

If you could reliably get parts for a modern 4 stroke CVT fuel injected Vespa along your route, my recommendation would be the Vespa LX150. It's been as reliable as the day is long. That said, you'll have a hard time finding parts, and changing the rear tire will be a colossal pain: a) because you have to take the exhaust off first (not easy) and b) because it's a tubeless tire and breaking the bead will be a chore all by itself. The LML, or Stella, or Vespa P200 have split rims, and the rear and front tire are interchangeable, plus you can carry a spare.

The Vespa P200 will do a maximum of 120 kph (75 mph) which should be plenty on the roads you'll be traveling.

Finally, I strongly suggest that for that kind of trip you get a Spot Messenger satellite transponder beacon. That will allow your loved ones and support team to track your travels, plus you get included search and rescue if you buy the search and rescue insurance. All told it's not that expensive and the peace of mind to know you can call for help literally anywhere on the planet even where there is no cell coverage is priceless.

Last but not least, with your permission I'd really like to post this e-mail exchange on my blog, but I won't do it without your permission. I don't need to mention names, I usually just say "a reader asks".

Whichever way you decide to go, please keep in touch. Also, If I were you, I'd start blogging about it now.

Oh... one more thing. If you decide to use a Vespa, a) raise money for charity, and b) get in touch with Piaggio, they might find a place in the Vespa museum for your scoot when you're done.

Regards,

d.

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Greetings Dave,

Thank you for your comments and suggestions on my possible trip to the end of the Earth on a Vespa. 

As usual, you covered the subject in a very thorough and complete manner addressing some of serious considerations for a trip of this length and nature.

I think your comments should be made available to other people that follow your Blog so I have no problem with you releasing this and my original message to you.

As I indicated, I am at this point still in the stage of investigating all the problems and situations that I may encounter if I go forward with this idea. Should I make the go head decision after further discovery work I will get back to you on this. 

In the meantime continue with your excellent blog as I am sure there are a lot of other scooter riders who benefit from it and your descriptive writing style.

Best regards,

Ralph

PS: My longest trip to date have been Cleveland, Ohio to Buffalo, New York. Not much distance in comparison to the ultimate trip I am looking at.

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Bradley Timm added:

Good day David.

Once again, a very insightful read. I was glad to see you made mention of the CapeTown-to-Dublin ride by my scooter friends here in South Africa.

We rode regularly under the "Scooter Addicts" banner both before and after their long ride.

I was devastated to hear when I was in Paris last month that Chris (the guy in the red T-Shirt on the first picture) has gone blind as a result of a virus he picked up in middle Africa somewhere. I am still in regular contact with him, but his riding days are over.

Maybe an additional consideration is ensuring updated anti-viral shots/injections (and other prophelactics) relevant to countries being toured.

Keep up the interesting blog.

Regards

Bradley

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Hi Bradley,

How tragic.

We often think the modern world is a playground. It's sobering to hear that someone has paid so dear a price for venturing on a road trip.

Regards,

d.

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Rider profile: Michael Beattie

Name: Michael Beattie.  I was named Conchscooter for my avatar on a motorcycle forum, long since forgotten, years ago, by a moderator, and I adopted it.
Find me on Earth: Cudjoe Key, Florida
Find me Online: http://conchscooter.blogspot.com
Interview Date: Monday, July 14, 2014
Interview Location: It began in Beaconsfield, QC, and wrapped up in Brooklyn, NY

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

Michael:  My mother bought me an orange Vespa 50R in the summer of 1970 when I was 12 years old. In Italy it is only legal to ride at 14 but I rode it everywhere in the mountains round my home. My mother loved motorcycles and she planted the seed of my favorite way to tour. She died when I was 15, but the motorcycle bug remained. I've ridden ever since, no interruptions, for 44 years.

Scootcommute: How many motorbikes have you owned?

Michael:  I count roughly twenty, more or less. The largest was a Goldwing 1200 which was too much, the first real motorcycle was an MV Agusta 350B, to my current 2007 Bonneville.

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

Michael:  I believe it takes years to find the right motorcycle and my Bonneville is the culmination of years of buying the right bike for right now. The Bonneville is light enough to roll by hand, comfortable enough to ride for 36 hours straight, and easy and fun so that the prospect of riding never puts me off. It's the first bike I've ridden 80,000 miles with minimal maintenance and maximum reliability.

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

Michael:  The most challenging riding skill is to hang back when circumstances require it. I like to ride five miles per hour faster than the traffic, but when I see a distracted driver ahead, the best policy is to slow down and let them go. Or if they come up from behind to pull over and let them go. I've got good at it after a half century of criticizing other road users.

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

Michael:  I have ridden on many long journeys in the Americas, Europe and Africa. I live in a mild climate year round. If I commute by car my colleagues ask me what's wrong - usually I'm coming down with a cold or I needed the car for a specific reason. Rain doesn't bother me in a sub tropical climate.

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

Michael:   I am a solitary human. I go back to Umbria where I grew up and ride with my brother by other parents. Giovanni and I have been riding together for all these 44 years but aside from him I prefer to ride alone.

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

Michael:   In 1977 I was riding my Moto Morini 350 on a congested street in Dorking, a town in Southern England where I grew up when I wasn't growing up in Italy. I lane split and got caught by a car turning across the traffic in a gap left by a considerate driver. I flew over the car, landed on my helmet, walked away, red faced, and bent the forks on my motorcycle. Lesson learned and I never did that again. I watch other traffic like a hawk.

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

Michael:  Across the US in 1981 on my Vespa P200E, the perfect touring bike. I traveled light, no tent, just a sleeping bag, no cooking gear, barely enough clothes, no spare parts. Fantastic. I rode my SR500 Yamaha across West Africa two years prior and went overloaded and fearful. I was too young and did not get the most out of that journey. These days I love to ride 12 hours out of Key West to the Appalachians north of Atlanta and ride the Blue Ridge at random when I can get away alone. (Ed.: Here is a link to Michael's account of his 1981 adventure.)

Scootcommute: Tell me why you ride.

Michael:  I ride because riding makes every journey an adventure, a test of skill, and a flight into the unknown. Keeping a two wheeler upright takes constant effort as it's instinct is to fall down. On a motorcycle I can be the solitary human being I crave to be in daily life. Plus when I come across another rider I can be as social as necessary without having to explain or justify my pleasure in being alone.

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

Michael: One riding wish would be to have Cheyenne meet me at the motel room at the end of a day of solitary riding. My wife knows why I leave on my motorcycle and reads my texts during the ride. Cheyenne sees me disappear and reappear a few days later without warning or explanation.

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You can find other rider profiles on the Rider Profiles page

A fairly typical week

Hurricane Arthur's embrace reached far enough inland to keep me off my Vespa on Monday.

On Tuesday everything seemed to be returning to normal, but when I emerged from the underground garage for my homeward-bound commute, I was facing some menacing clouds and stiff winds.  I got no further than the Turcotte Yards on Autoroute 20 when the rain started pelting down.  I made a bee-line for the Angrignon - Notre Dame exit because there's a seldom-used U-turn lane that doubles back under the Angrignon overpass that provides perfect shelter.

I really don't enjoy getting rain gear on over my riding attire.  In fact, if I never had to do it again, it would still be too soon.  A particular joy is fighting to get my motorcycle boots in and through the rain pants.  I had to resort to plopping my butt down on a dusty curb, because the one-foot-hopping-dance was clearly not doing the trick.  Once I struggle into the rain suit, riding is fine and, I should add, unfailingly dry.  That bit always amazes me.

When I got home, stripping out of the rain gear was relatively easy, mainly because I slid my boots off, and then the rain pants followed suit without such a fuss.

On Tuesday evening things got quite ugly and we had to do without power for an hour or so.  Silence and candle light on a dark night.  Not so bad.

On Wednesday morning, the skies were very angry and there were huge winds blowing.  I must have checked the weather on my phone three times.  Nope.  There was definitely no rain in the forecast, in spite of the menacing look of things.  So off I went, my rain gear stashed away under the seat.

The weather finally aligned with the forecast by mid-morning, and there was bright sunshine at noon.

I emptied the pet carrier bin into one of the fold-away shopping bags I carry in the topcase and lugged the contents up to my office.  That left room to store my riding jacket on the bike.

And that's how I set out for a business lunch in the old city, at Graziella, down at 116 McGill avenue.

I parked about a block north on McGill, in the company of PTWs, mainly Vespas.

Five Vespas at one intersection.  What a sight. It's eloquent testimony to this town's love affair with Vespas.  No wonder Vespa Montreal is selling more Vespas than any other Canadian dealership, the demand in Montreal continues to grow.  Way to go Paul!

Notice the gaps between those bikes.  What luxury.  Italian riders would have squeezed at least thirty percent more bikes into that space, without even trying.

I stowed my helmet and jacket, then strolled off to the restaurant.  Graziella offered us a  truly delicious lunch (a warm seafood salad for me, featuring marinated grilled shrimp, tender calamari, succulent sautéed octopus, and other assorted bits and bites, and for my host a gorgeous and generous osso bucco milanese).  The food was really top-notch and there was a wonderful white wine to match.  Nothing like a nice meal and three or four glasses of wine perfectly complementing the food, to help expedite fruitful plans for the fall conference season.

On Thursday morning I changed things up for the commute.  I swung northeast and then headed south through the tree-lined streets of Outremont.  Once I was in the neighborhood, I took an extra few minutes to pop into St-Viateur bagel bakery to pick up bagels for our team.

They were still nice and hot from the oven when I handed them out to the folks at the office.  Being able to just toss your shopping onto the bag hook without a care in the world is just one of the wonderful pluses of owning a Vespa.

 What a contrbution to the dolce vita.

Thursday evening's commute was pure bliss.  I took the scenic route home and rode slow and easy.  I had my helmet open and paid the price by getting fairly whacked by a couple of insects on suicide missions.

On Notre Dame street that runs parallel to the Lachine Canal on the north bank, as I coasted along with the heavy-ish and indolent summer evening traffic. I soon found the cause for the slow-down.  A movie set sat astride the street in the trendy restaurant and antique store stretch.  For once they were actually shooting and things were hopping (to the extent anything hops on a movie set, it's usually at a dead stop).

All along the canal people were jogging, biking and kayaking.  On the lakeshore road, the restaurant patios were full of people sipping wine, chatting and relaxing.  More kayakers were enjoying the lake, competing with the squadrons of ducks.  In the distance a flotilla of sailboats sat seemingly still on the broad expanse of Lac St-Louis, decorating the water like so many white, bright, shark fins.

I had Emilie-Claire Barlow charming my ears with one delightful rendition after another.  Her album Seule ce soir is a delight.  Her performance of Petit matin is a loving portrait of Montreal that rings as true as true can be.  As that song started up, my luxurious commute likely climaxed.  Imagine me feasting, taking a simultaneous bite of every one of my favorite comfort foods at once, in a kaleidoscope of bursting flavours and nostalgia. It was that good.

I really wanted to share the sights and sounds, but that would have meant interrupting the reverie to take a picture, and I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  I was an addict.  Hooked on the beauty of what a Vespa commute can be, and as high as a kite.

Friday.  TGIF.

Another blissful commute to work.

Brilliant sun, not a single cloud in sight, a cool breeze, and a promise of twenty-seven degrees for the afternoon commute.

For the morning route, I chose to split the difference.  I headed east on the expressway again, but this time got off due north of Mount Royal and headed south through the sleepy streets of Town of Mount Royal lined with the spacious elegant homes of the well-heeled elite, and then on to Cote des neiges road and over the pass between the twin summits of Montreal's mountain playground.  The traffic up the north face of the mountain pass moved languorously, and seemed to be slinking along in lazy fits and starts, as if it were succumbing to Halie Loren's Tango as I listened to I've got to see you again playing over the Sena.

When I crested the pass in front of the armory at Remembrance Road, I found myself traveling behind a couple riding two-up on a brand new Vespa Primavera in Azzurro Marechiaro.  Doesn't that sound nicer than greenish-blue?  Another stunning example of fine body work by a design team that manages to do something strikingly different, and truly beautiful, within the confines of the same simple elegant framework, time after time.  Art on two wheels.

What a sensuous way to start the day.

Then SNAP! The week was done.

I put my briefcase on the bag hook, fired up the bike and took the shortest, fastest route straight home. Well that's mostly true. I couldn't resist exiting at Cartier and taking it slow and easy through the Pointe Claire village. The weekend was already in full swing there. People on the terrasses, already into cocktails and friendly earnest chatter.

And so it goes.

A sunbird's summer travels with humans

 Cheyenne is a sunbird if ever there was one.

She explained patiently that a sunbird is just like a snowbird, but in reverse. A Floridian who temporarily migrates north to avoid the sweltering summer heat.

Cheyenne will tell you, if you take the time to listen her, that humans are a dog's best friend.

As long as you take the time to train your humans just so, that is.  Cheyenne has done a stellar job with her humans.

She managed a road trip up to the much cooler northeast coast, where temps were, by some accounts, overcast and in the 50F's.  Just what a Golden Labrador Retriever yearns for as an escape from the stifling tropics.

In for a penny, in for a pound.  She figured a short hop across the border to the wild and chilly Great White North might be fun.  She seemed a little disappointed with the balmy weather she found in Beaconsfield.  She told me she was hoping for the Labrador-in-September kind of weather.

Sorry Cheyenne.  You're still too far south.

Fortunately we had the air conditioning going.

Initially Cheyenne thought she'd keep her humans company in the den.  After all, you don't want your humans worrying that they've been abandoned far from home.  But the carpeting proved just too damn hot for a golden lab, so Cheyenne picked a nice spot in the kitchen, in the shade of the table, on a nice cool ceramic tile floor.

Ahhhh!.... now that's the life.

That's not to say that she forgets about her humans' needs.  She made arrangements to take them out to Smoke Meat Pete's.

Some humans claim that the Montreal smoked meat at Pete's place is the best in all the world.

She told me candidly that she just doesn't see what humans see in that stuff, or how they can stand to eat it.  Oh well, whatever floats their boat.  Cheyenne is philosophical that way.  But she wasn't having any of it.  Yuck!

She picked a breezy spot in the shade on the veranda and was content to wait patiently and take in the view, and maybe take a little nap, while her humans ate their fill.

In the end, she had expectations.  Places to go, dogs to see, grass to sniff.  So she gathered up her humans Michael and Layne and coaxed them into the car.  It was too damn hot here anyway, she said.

She wasn't sure where she would head next.  Definitely back to Key West, but only later on, she said.  Who knows, in the meantime she told me she would likely bum around the Northeast for a while longer, looking for more of that nice cool weather she was after.  So long as her humans didn't get too cranky.

Sometimes even the best-trained ones can be unpredictable, she said.  Something about constantly stopping to chat with humans, and then all it takes is for a motorcycle or scooter to cross your path and well they get fixated on that, and it all goes south pretty quickly... what's a dog to do?

21st century life

We live in a world totally different from the one previous generations knew.

We have information that previous generations never had, likely never imagined having.  We know with insane precision where we are, where we are going, how fast we are going, and when we will arrive.

We can record with the same exacting precision where we have been, with images, sound, and motion. 

We are able instantly to know more about our surroundings, the people we meet, the weather we have, the weather to come, events that are shaping our lives and communities, where our loved ones are, and even the state of the homes we left behind, than any of the countless humans who came before.

If we choose, we can share that information about us in what we have come to call 'real time'.  We are able to call anyone, anywhere, speak to them, leave messages for them, and in turn be reached by anyone, anywhere. Our friends and family can see where we are to within a few feet and a handful of minutes, no matter where we are on the planet, even how fast we are moving.

If we stay in one place for more than a few minutes, there is virtually no limit to the information at our disposal.  When did Vivaldi write the Four Seasons?  How far is the moon? What portion of the universe is above us at this moment?  How many movies did Humphrey Bogart appear in?  How many elements are in the periodic table now?  How many were there when we were in high school?

Almost nothing is unknowable about our known universe, in this very moment. 

It blows my mind. 

I can have virtually all of that at my beck and call on my Vespa if I choose.

Gasp!

Yes, yes, yes, I know. Why?

Why would you want all that clutter when you're riding?

Well, mostly I don't.  But...

The thing is, that there are times when it's really, really useful. 

I spend a lot of time in the saddle.  There are many speed traps on my route. My speedometer is inaccurate and I want to go through them as fast as possible without triggering the camera, or giving the officer a reason to pull me over. Sometimes it's nice to be reachable and be able to be able to reach others.   Sometimes I need help getting where I want to go. 

And then, for me, personally, geekily, it's just friggin cool that I can, if I want to. 

And I can, and I do, because the world has RAM mounts. 

Any gadget you can own, can be mounted on any bike, in precisely the perfect spot, with a RAM mount.  That goes for global positioning satellite receivers (it's much more fun to say that than 'GPS unit'.  Satellites, a constellation of them, inform, guide me, and even speak to me. Wow!), so-called smart phones like my iPhone, point-of-view cameras like my GoPro, and satellite transponder position beacons, like SPOT Messengers.

RAM mounts are precision, no-nonsense, military-grade instruments.  But they aren't perfect. 

I found that out last weekend when the retaining clip on my iPhone mount snapped. Fortunately the phone was plugged into the charging cable and it landed in my lap when it sprang free. 

I had noticed that it had become easier to snap the phone in and that was good. In fact, it was a harbinger of imminent failure.  There was no way of knowing. 

The place for RAM mounts in Canada is Calgary. But not just anywhere in Calgary. In a little store in a strip mall in the suburbs. I used my Garmin GPS unit to get me there. 

Luckily for Canadians, a trip to the store in Calgary is a fun thing to do, if you happen to be in Calgary, but it's completely unnecessary. That's because they have a kick-ass website at gpscity.ca where you can get anything RAM makes, and they ship instantly. 

It didn't take long to go there to replace the $8 iPhone mount. 

But wait, GPS City folks are as honest as good'ole cowpokes on the prairie.  They post product reviews for all products, including ones that prove to have defects. Like the mount for the iPhone series 5, for instance. Be warned those of you who have this mount. It will break and set your $800 iPhone free.  Those of you who have the RAM mount for the series 4 iPhones needn't worry, those are fine. 

Oh! Did I mention that RAM mounts have lifetime warranties?  

GPS City also have real-time chat on their website. In no time at all I had received expert advice and I had a universal smartphone 'X' mount (and a GoPro 1" RAM ball for good measure) winging their way to me.  As soon as they come in I'll post pics here. 

As for my broken mount, GPS City honors the RAM warranty with a picture of the broken mount and the original order number. In this case they gave a discount off the new purchase on the spot. How cool is that?

And that's life in the 21st century.  No floating cars yet, but still tons of cool stuff that this 1962 ten year-old never even dreamed would be possible.

Ciao!

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I'm back.

Well that didn't take long, I'm back and the iPhone is back on its perch, in a brand new universal mount.  It's been ride-tested and it's fine.

The instructions, in keeping with K2's comment below, suggest tethering the phone.  I'm not sure how that is going to happen.

The only thing that comes to mind is a GoPro tether.  I don't know if that will work.  What will work is this product, a little pricy though.  I think I can come up with something sufficiently secure by exploiting the two connectors on the phone.  I already have an idea, but it's going to involve some shopping and hopefully a tiny amount of money.  Stay tuned.

"... this used to be fields..."

We would be going somewhere, driving down a street lined with stores or houses.  To the child I used to be (some would say, still am), that particular part of the planet seemed as permanent and unchangeable as any other.

"When I was your age, this used to be fields. I would come for horseback riding lessons near here. There were bridle paths all through the fields."

I never for an instant doubted my mother. Yet it was more than I could fathom.  My mother wasn't that old.  There were no fields anywhere in this place.  Mile upon mile of sidewalks, pavement and buildings. I couldn't remember seeing a field all drive long. It seemed a fantastic notion. Fields, here? Horses?

On Saturday my sister-in-law Bev was here for a visit. She was staying with her sister Linda in Laval. We went over for brunch.  When we turned onto Linda's street I noticed it had been repaved. From the look of the pavement, the paving was maybe a week old. Tops.

Every time I go to Linda's, it's a trip in a time machine. I grew up in that neighborhood. I distinctly remember when Linda's house was built, and when her street was paved, the first time.

Our kids are visiting for the long weekend, so we went to Linda's in two cars, and a scooter. I was in need of a ride.

After brunch, Susan drove Bev to the airport and I decided to take the scenic route home: west along the old river road to the ferry that goes to Ile Bizard, then over Ile Bizard back onto the Island and home.

Back in the late 70's Autoroute 13 was built. Laval's burgeoning population had made a second Autoroute link to Montreal a pressing and long overdue necessity.  The highway was built nineteen years after my parents' house was built, eighteen years after the seven year-old me moved in.  That was a very long eighteen year span.  Years back then lasted much longer.  Nothing like the recent ones that seem to slip by in uncounted numbers.

Our house in what is now the Chomedey sector of Laval was on the edge of the developed world back in 1959. The frontier was a couple of blocks away. Farmers' fields extended from our neighborhood and away to the west, as far as the crow could fly. Farther probably.

Autoroute 13 obliterated the ancient red brick two-story, four-room schoolhouse I attended in grades three and four. Good riddance. I had nuns, and was the only 'city boy' in the school, or so it seemed to me.  I shed no tears when that part of my childhood fell to the bulldozer.

I digressed on the way home, searching for any vestige of the world of the 1960's where my school and the nearby convent that supplied the school's nuns had stood.  The old riverside road, Chemin bord de l'eau, petered out as it approached the point where the western edge of the Autoroute blocked its original path.  The fields south of the old road that used to stretch a quarter mile or more down to the river, were no more. The three story convent was no more.

Cheek by jowel, acres of McMansions had mushroomed.  Imposing, elegant, brand-new, dressed-stone manor homes, with many-gabled roofs, and wrought iron adornments, succeeded one another, snaking along gracefully curving streets.  There was no trace, absolutely no visible trace, of the seven or eight-year-old's universe.

'... this used to be fields...' my mother's words were ricocheting in my slightly numbed brain.  My childhood world was gone. No school, no convent, no fields, no '57 Chevies, or Ford Fairlanes.

I turned the Vespa around and headed west on Chemin bord de l'eau. At least the old road still existed.

Many miles later, as I neared the ferry landing, development's grip slackened and the changes were less troubling.  The ten year old boy had no difficulty getting his bearings.

The three-dollar ferry ride was a comforting transition that left the unsettling vision of McMansions swirling in its wake.

Was that real?

Service with a smile, and a shine!

It was high time for the annual check-up.  The bike was last serviced just before the 2013 Blogger to Blogger Tour.

All the riding during and after the tour, and into this season, takes a toll.

Over the winter my go-to dealership, Alex Berthiaume & Fils, Montreal's oldest motorcycle dealership, went through some changes.  The business moved to Montreal's north shore and is now located somewhere in Laval.

As part of the move, they sold off the Vespa business and the premises on de La Roche street to Mécamoto who now operate the Vespa business as Vespa Montréal.  Same shop, some familiar faces, some new faces, same great service.  More Vespas are sold from this small shop on the Plateau, than anywhere else in Canada.

François Desmarais, who now heads up the Vespa Montreal service department, really impressed me with his courtesy, frank manner, and above all, competent and thorough servicing of my Vespa.

It didn't come cheap, but with a friendly discount and some goodwill, the bill was under $800.  Yes I know that's a lot, but when you only have two wheels to rely on, peace of mind ranks very, very high.  I could certainly do some of the work myself, but there's no way I could match the knowledge, experience and competence that François and his team bring to the table.

In the end the bike needed a new front tire, rear brake shoes, a new exhaust manifold, a new drive belt, new rear wheel bearing, new spark plug, and the usual replacement of fluids and filters, as well as all the related tune-up adjustments one comes to expect.

When I picked up the bike, Paul Brunette, Vespa Montreal's sales manager (and the guy who did more to get me rolling on Vespas than anyone else on the planet, from tolerating my too numerous chatty visits to the dealership in the years before I purchased, to recommending the type of bike I needed to start off, to encouraging me to rent one for a test ride), surprised me by detailing the bike.

When I picked it up it was purring like a kitten and was as spiffy as the day it rolled off the assembly line in Pontedera in 2010.  No charge for the thorough clean-n-shine, just a handshake, a beaming smile, and a thank you for my business.

You can't beat that!

Thanks to Paul, François, and the rest of the team at Vespa Montreal.  You guys rock!

Triple Crown revisited

Food forays: talk about a great reason to commute on a Vespa.

Last week I needed to get a bottle of my favorite olive oil, Fuente Baena.  A bottle lasts me roughly a year.  The most reliable place to get this Spanish delicacy is the Jean Talon market.  It's one of Montreal's foodie go-to venues. Olive & Épices is the boutique that stocks it.

If I commuted by public transit, Jean Talon market would be out of reach.  Well maybe not really, but certainly psychologically.  In all the years I commuted that way, I didn't go there once.

When I commute by car, the trip to the  market is costly and impractical.  I'd end up having to pay twice for parking downtown, and pay for parking at the market.

My Vespa means parking is free, and it zips around traffic congestion, and that makes a trip to the Jean Talon market at lunch time easy-peazy.  You guessed it, I've done this jaunt before.  Quite a few times in fact.

I hadn't eaten yet. Riding north up the Main towards Little Italy gave me time to ponder lunch venues.

Notre Dame de la Defense - Little Italy

I'd been wondering if Triple Crown Dinette was still dishing up southern fare. I had been there before, about two years ago.

I'm very happy to report that they are still very much in business.  The food dished up by what is surely Montreal's smallest restaurant, is simply delicious.

Take a peek at the menu. Guess what I ordered.

That's right.  A gorgeous yummy plate of southern fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, a cornbread biscuit and a delightful concoction of rice, black-eyed peas and diced ham, with just the right kick of spice to make it really nice.

If the perfectly cooked chicken with it's beautifully browned crispy impossibly light crust was the star, the rice medley was the delightfully contrasting understudy.

 Alternating bites of chicken and the scrumptious rice dish, with a taste of the mashed potatoes and a nip of cornbread biscuit... Oh dear!  Lunch was delightful.

The whole affair was complemented with homemade lemonade that was the perfect libation.

Summer on a menu. Nothing less.

This tiny nothing of a restaurant punches way above it's weight.  I would pit them head to head against Vidalia in Washington D.C.  You can read that post here.  I'm really not sure who would win that contest, but I sure would like to judge it.

I guess I have a thing for southern cooking done right.  It's much rarer than it ought to be.

Unable to finish the generous helpings, I apologized profusely, and zipped over to the market to fetch the olive oil.

Lunches before the ScootCommute were never like this.

Powered by Vespa!

Meet Stephanie Yue

Scooterist. Illustrator. Martial artist. Climber of things. Eater, drinker, explorer.

That's the bio of a 250cc superhero, in her own words.

I would add Vespa rider to the list, but that's just me.

Every now and then a moto blogger of exceptional talent emerges from the social net. Stephanie is one of those.

By all means, don't take my word for it. Check out her blog, it's linked here, and in the blog list on the right.

Planning a four month hiatus, paring her life down to some stuff in storage, a Vespa GTS, and only things she can carry with her, saying farewell to family, friends, and her comfortable rut, to ride off solo to discover America: that's definitely a mission that takes guts.

Stephanie is on her way. She set out on May 5th, right on schedule.

She tells a compelling story. She writes with humility and candid honesty, right from the first post, in a style that's light, conversational, and never contrived or pretentious. This is an easy summer page turner.

I plan to follow her progress. It won't be a chore. Her blog is literally a work of art.

I think Stephanie Yue is right up there with vloggers Natalie Tran and Sonia Gil.

What do they have in common? They are exceptionally articulate, dynamic, well-traveled individuals, with media careers influenced by social media.

Check out Stephanie's blog. Let me know what you think.

Black and blue

I'm not. Not really.

 

Well, a little, maybe.

 

Returning to 'normal' after a dream vacation can bruise your psyche, that's for sure.

 

Susan actually is. Bruised, that is. Her nasty Tuscan ankle sprain still has her limping. My darling wife is a trooper, she is soldiering on.

 

We're both in need of some TLC.

 

I found a partial cure for Monday blues in a cup at the end of my lunchtime walk.

Café Myriade on Mackay street, just north of Ste-Catherine street offers some of the very best coffee you'll find anywhere.

Breaking with a long-standing ban, Montreal is allowing food trucks into the city.

I couldn't get my coffee fix from this charming venue because I was only carrying plastic. According to reviews on Yelp and UrbanSpoon, it was my loss. The truck is an off-shoot of a café I may need to find.

I have a thing for quirky vehicles. My Vespa scratches that itch.

 

I toy with the idea of getting a safari-ready vintage Land Rover 110 as a daily driver.

 

If I could throw caution to the wind, I would build a stable and throw a couple of vintage Citroëns in with the 110. An H1 truck like that coffee truck, and a deux cheveaux sedan.

 

To dream...

 

Speaking of dreams, my commutes are dreamy. On the way to work I took a minute so I could share the view here.

Looking at the day's iPhone photos, the post title sprang off the screen and smacked me right between the eyes.

 

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.