The Daily Rider: February 20, 2011

Late morning, a stop to shoot the Vespa with Mount Nittany in the background. Clear skies are giving way to snow and ice tonight. Shot with the Hipstamatic app for the iPhone.

My Dog Junior.

The wide angle lens makes him appear like a little spud.

The Daily Rider: February 19, 2011

Vespa and abandoned chicken coop near Oak Hall, Pennsylvania. Shot with an iPhone, image processed on the phone using PhotoForge -- sharpened and vignetted, and then turned into a postcard using Lo Mob.

My Dog Junior: February 19, 2011

Ball action at the Pennsylvania Military Museum.

The Daily Rider: A Twitter Project

The above picture was made yesterday afternoon with my iPhone before heading home from work. I've been telling myself for some time now that I need to explore the possibilities of the camera phone. The recent third place award in the Pictures of the Year competition to Damon Winters for his coverage of the war in Afghanistan and shooting exclusively with an iPhone has moved me to action.

Functioning best amidst ritual and routine I have decided to begin using the iPhone to produce a daily image related to my rides to work, the Vespa, motorcycles I ride, see, love, hate, whatever. I'm not going to post them here but instead send the picture (s?) out using Twitter. So if you need a daily dose of something related to two wheels then make sure you follow me on Twitter.

Click ScooterNSticks to follow me on Twitter. I'll be using the #DailyRider hashtag.

If you are following already you probably know that I am posting a daily picture of my dog Junior. You can find them with the #MyDogJunior hashtag.

Anyways, with the weather warming and all things riding about to become more common I wanted to give everyone an heads up.

Old Man Update: Helmets

It finally happened, a morning ride in the mid 20s (F) and then a return home to drop the helmet on the concrete floor. Pieces scattered and detached from the Fulmer helmet that I've worn for the past five years. It performed well enough to take a place along the street today and accept a ride to it's eventual burial at the landfill. Farewell.

On Monday after work I stopped at Kissell Motorsports and browsed the least expensive helmets in the Scorpion line. Everyone here probably knows that price and protection aren't really connected. In blind test after test the cheapest helmets often outperform the expensive ones in impact tests. Armed with that knowledge I puffed my chest ready to rebuff any sales pitch steering me towards an Arai, Shoei or other fancy bauble. I have selected a Scorpion helmet. Grey, plain, functional. I'm ready to go.

Craig Kissell stops to see how I'm doing and says, "Those are nice helmets but you really should check out one of the Shoeis, I think you'll really like it better." He's recently told me he wants me to try out the new Ducati Diavel and the new Triumph Tigers when they come in so I listen politely.

He hands me a Titanium Shoei Qwest. Pretty. And pretty expensive. He repeats that it might be a good helmet for me and adds "You're getting older now."

What?

To make a long story shorter he tells me the real advantage of the Shoei over the Scorpion is the fiberglas construction makes it noticeably lighter and easier on my aging neck and cervical spine. Damn, it did feel lighter. I remembered long rides where the helmet seemed like it was dragging me down. I thought for a few minutes while weighing the helmet in my hands and said sold.

I've been riding to work the past two days in the Shoei. The weight difference is noticeable. The fit is much better than the Fulmer was. Quiet and without much wind noise. And for a winter rider, the big payoff is the breath guard really works. It was 22F on Tuesday morning and I did not have to open the visor once to clear fog.

But the big lesson for old men (and women) -- a lighter helmet means less neck pain. I'm already liking the less weight part.

First Sign of Spring

While longer days and bright sun are nice, a sure sign of spring for this Vespa rider is the appearance of a motorcycle parking space at my office as the snow and ice recede.

The weather forecast predicts 30F and sunny for the ride home. Almost ready to put the Gerbing electric gloves away until next year...

The Khan Academy

A non-riding, non-scooter, non-motorcycle post. But something I think has value. The video above will give you an idea of what the Khan Academy is all about.

This past Friday I was in the Berkey Creamery at Penn State with my friend Dan Leri, director of Innovation Park at Penn State, When he's not trying to convince me to ditch the Vespa and get a BMW motorcycle he has amazing stories to share and this meeting was no different. He asked me if I had seen the Khan Academy.

The Khan Academy is the brainchild of Salman Khan, former hedge fund manager and now creator of over 2000 video tutorials (housed on YouTube) on subjects ranging from algebra, physics, and chemistry to economics, finance, and statistics. Khan has an uncanny way of taking the most complex subjects and presenting it in a compelling and understandable manner in 10 minutes or less.

If you have kids in school who might be struggling with math, chemistry, biology or physics, you need to introduce them to the Khan Academy.

And it's all free.

Over the weekend Kim and I tried out his Alien Abduction Brain Teaser, just one of many opportunities to exercise your brain.

If you have a minute check out the Khan Academy. It may be something of interest to you, your family, or someone you know. When I looked through the list of topics I could not help but think how different my academic career would have unfolded if something like this was available when I was struggling with calculus, chemistry and physics as a freshman in college.

Khan has caught the attention of supporters around the world and has dreams of educating the world.

I believe he will.

UPDATE FOR CONCHSCOOTER:

A still picture from a Sunday morning ride. Conchscooter can't stand to not see a photo. Too much sun in Key West I guess.

Winter Creeping into My Heart

After watching the Dream Rangers video yesterday I could not keep myself from going for a ride this morning. Winter is slowly creeping into my heart and painting everything with a gray heaviness. A ride would chase away the cold.

The roads were mostly dry with salt and an occasional path of snow or ice. Staying on lightly traveled secondary roads allow for methodical management of these hazards.

Looking at the Vespa sitting in the ice covered scene above reflected exactly how I feel -- I'm living in a world of cold. Maybe this is what Finland is like this time of year.

Returning home I realized I could ride a lot more than I do. I'm letting the cold weigh me down and whisper in my ear the many reasons to leave the scooter in the garage.

My dog Junior doesn't let a little cold weather stand in his way of having fun. I need to take a lesson from him.

No more winter whining. Let's ride.

Continue to Dream

I hope I can continue to dream when the time comes...

What about you?

My Dog Junior Project

My dog Junior, this morning before work, exercising his god given right to chase balls until my hands and feet are numb.

I don't know how it happened but I suddenly began photographing Junior, well, sort of obsessively with my iPhone, Canon G9, Nikon D200 or D700, Leica M6, Mamiya 7, pretty much with whatever is at hand.

It's a good thing -- making pictures. And with so much snow falling lately the Vespa has been languishing in the garage. I almost made the mistake of riding to work this morning thinking there would be no snow until take today, and then only a short period this morning. Good thing I left the scooter at home.

Back to the My Dog Junior project. I like when something ignites a creative flame. Not sure where it will go. I decided to keep the dog pictures to a minimum. Just enough to soften you all up for a time when one of our daughters has a baby and I start posting pictures like all proud grandpas do.

Probably will fold Junior into the 3 Prints Project which is still moving along despite the fact that I have not posted any updates for a year or so. A long story there and will probably post something soon. Things fall through the cracks and on top of that I procrastinate a bit.

Ask Dave in Canada who is still waiting patiently for a print from last summer's free print giveaway. Or maybe he forget. I'll send it. It's sitting on my desk.

I'll post an occasional image of Junior here but if you want to see everything visit my Flickr site.

Or if you want daily reminders of the new canine imagery follow me on TWITTER.

That's a quick update and now I am going to head for the couch...

Only Idiots Ride in the Snow

Only idiots ride in the snow. Or so I've been told.

It was running through my head this morning when Junior and I headed out the door for a morning romp with the temperature hovering just below the zero mark. We found enough ice and snow here and there on the road to convince me to take the truck into town for a late morning meeting. I could have ridden but couldn't summon the adventurer. I had to be content hurling a tennis ball for 45 minutes while I got cold and Junior got warmed up.

Made the portrait of Junior with cold hands and the iPhone.

Not to say I haven't been on the road trying out the new Heidenau K66 LT Snowtex tires. They are everything I hoped for and more. For loose, unpacked snow they are pretty amazing. Almost no feeling of the front tire about to slip out. Just a solid, confident movement.

Keep in mind movement at a slow pace. If you think snow tires will let you race through snow on a road with traffic, well, think again. Or think, "Only idiots ride in the snow."

I got the tires to reduce the risk of sliding during the winter when the roads are mostly clear but cold, at temperatures where conventional tires loose traction. In that regard they're great. No idiocy here.

I also wanted to have the tires for those times when I unexpectedly am faced with snow on the road. The beginnings of a snowfall where I still need to get home. Times when the road is wet, slushy, or just beginning to be covered with snow. A temporary ride to get to shelter. Again, these tires make a big difference.

While they help in this sort of snow I have no illusions of their performance on ice, or even hard packed snow. The scooter isn't heavy enough to dig in and there is no magic in the tires. Any riding in those situations (and I've done it) is a fool's errand. You need to assume a lot of risk.

Unless you have one of those motorcycles with a sidecar.

But I like being out in the winter and for long periods of time the roads are largely clear. So why store the Vespa away to wait for spring. Careful planning, riding, technique, and the right equipment can make this time of year pretty nice.

Now I just need to work on getting my butt off the couch and ride. Maybe tomorrow morning. It should only be a few degrees below zero...

The Humble Rider

I found myself creeping along the alley which runs through the center of State College to avoid the more aggressive traffic on College Avenue.

There’s nothing like a 50cc scooter to amplify your understanding of the road. Wondering whether the speedometer will 35mph or if a few less potato chips would make help top speeds, a ride on a little scooter seems to unfold in slow motion. On the Honda Ruckus I could feel the desire to move, to rush, to get somewhere faster, quicker, get through traffic, leave things behind me, get away, get out in front, do anything other than wait for the scooter to get me to my destination.

It’s humbling to be at the bottom of the motorized kingdom. Only pedestrians and non-competitive bicycle riders go slower. Even my Vespa GTS has an engine five times bigger. I’ve found new respect for the small scooter and moped riders I see around town. And for guys like Walter Muma from Michigan who rode his moped nearly 12 thousand miles to Alaska and back, I can barely image the patience he must possess.

Every rider should periodically ride one of these little machines. They demand an entirely different focus and behavior than almost every other two-wheeled machine. Slow speeds force a focus on traffic flow, drivers, routes, and personal behavior. Like pulling over to let everyone pass. Or waiting for really big openings in traffic to pull onto a highway.

For the first couple days I took the roads less traveled. Aside from a super slippery seat on the Ruckus I found myself liking it more and more. As one of the machines in the Kissell Motorsports pre-owned category I found myself thinking about writing a check for $1200 and taking it home.

For rides around Boalsburg, through the streets and alleys to the post office or the Boalsburg Chocolate Company, what could be better.

As the temperatures descended in the 20s I began missing my heated gloves. I didn’t do any research on the capacity of the Ruckus to support electrics. Watching the kids play ice hockey in the cold I was remembered a time when I was impervious to the cold.

The Honda Ruckus is a little tank. I was surprise how solid it felt after first thinking of it as a glorified minibike, one of those WRENs from my youth. That would be the 1960s for me when I used to lay on my bed in my room with a copy of Boy’s Life dreaming of selling stationary from the Cheerful Card Company to earn enough money for a minibike, air rifle, and X-ray glasses.

The Ruckus has big, almost knobby tires, and they didn’t slip once as I began “riding through the woods.”

I rode through a lot of familiar territory with a 10-mile radius of home and found the little scooter up for anything as long as I was willing to accept such slow speeds. I’m certain the experience with the Ruckus has sharpened by riding wits. I’ve never thought mastering the machine was nearly as important as mastering my mind on the road and the scooter forces the issue. I know my place in the roadway kingdom. Easy to forget on a motorcycle that can propel a rider far ahead of the four-wheeled world.

Cutting through a field used mainly by dog walkers and kids taking a shortcut home from school I stopped to look at Mount Nittany, the iconic hill that Penn Staters pay allegiance and provides the namesake for the Nittany Lions. As a platform for exploring the Ruckus is great. And it is so unassuming that no one paid it any attention.

If you need people to look at you while riding cross this one off your list.

Here I am, 56 years old, and finally I have my minibike. At least for a few days. And it was as fun as I always thought it would be. Why didn’t my parents let me get one?

I like the looks of the Ruckus. It has the same rugged ugliness of a Jeep. And I bet it will go more places. If you have the time.

On the way back to Kissell’s to pick up my Vespa I stopped to photograph the little beast in front of the big mural along Calder Alley. It reflects the spirit that is ignited by this machine. Or any other small scooter I suspect.

I believe spending a riding life on big motorcycles leaves a rider incomplete. That little kid inside us doesn’t really connect with horsepower. It wants something else. Standing outside the window with the BMW S1000 RR looking out the window I was glad I had the chance to tool around on a Ruckus.

A Used BMW Motorcycle -- Happy New Year

Time slips by quickly and I have to pile on best wishes for the New Year on top of this story about a used BMW motorcycle.

Happy New Year! My resolutions (yes, I make resolutions) are under construction.

So, the used motorcycle, where to begin…

On Thursday afternoon I strapped a pair of Heidenau K66 LT Snowtex tires to the back of the Vespa and headed off to Kissell Motorsports to have them mounted. For non-winter riders these are snow tires with aggressive, slush clearing pattern, silica in the rubber for added traction, and special rubber designed to stay soft and sticky in the cold.

The plan was to drop the scooter off and have my wife pick me up for a ride home. What happened was I rode one of the used (pre-owned for the politically correct) motorcycles home.

The view out the breezeway door was pretty nice. Let me say I love the BMW R1200 GS. Love it. Smiled when I got on it. Was completely comfortable from the moment I pressed the starter. Loved the heated grips on the ride home. Nice bike. Really nice bike. A bike to lust after. And this was a used one with 19000 miles on it.

Nice.

A lot of dreams start with the selection of used motorcycles at a dealership. Not everyone is ready to plunk down the cash for a bike. I took the BMW as an example of the kind of used bikes one might find at Kissell's.

Standing in the kitchen the next day with a bowl of soup in my hands Kim calls out, “Craig Kissell is on the phone.” After I finished the soup I was going to go for a ride. Turns out that was true because Craig told me he just sold the bike and wondered if I could bring it back.

Sometimes life kicks you in the shins.

Pushing it out of the garage I gave it one last loving look. Kim walks over and says, “You really like that motorcycle don’t you?” I nod as I admire the machine standing in my driveway.

“Do you want to buy it?”

A felt a tear forming.

I met the new owner and expressed my feelings about what a fine machine he had purchased. I tried to console myself with the thought that there will be other motorcycles.

The BMW R1200 GS was just so nice though.

And life has a way of reminding you of the serendipity of things.

I’m going to ride a 50cc Honda Ruckus home. I made the choice. An act of flagellation to atone for coveting the BMW? I will say I have a new respect for those riders who make their way in the world on a 50cc machine. Anyone can ride a BMW. It takes a special rider to deal with the Ruckus.

Throttle wide open, I manage 35 mph on the flat. Twenty mph going up a hill. And compared to my Vespa GTS 250 the 50cc Ruckus is tiny. I smile when I think about what I must look like. I take a bit of pleasure leading a large, jacked up, big wheeled, overly loud, Dodge RAM truck down a stretch of road before pulling over and waving him on. The Harley decal in the back window meant he knew how to be patient with a fellow rider.

About halfway home I came to appreciate how quiet the scooter is. The sheep owned by Penn State barely moved when I rode up.

While a 50cc scooter isn’t fast its speed is a bit deceptive. More than once I found myself going a bit too fast for a maneuver. Luckily I am experienced enough to deal with these little over estimations. But I can see why new riders run these things into curbs, walls, or off the road. There’s no profit in underestimating anything with two wheels. And protective gear is a must in my opinion lest you come to woe.

I’ve always liked the looks of the Ruckus. They seem like the jeeps of the scooter world. If only Honda would drop a slightly larger motor into one. And call it a Big Ruckus.

Oh. Right. I forgot.

So I go from a BMW R1200 GS to a 50cc Honda Ruckus. That’s the kind of riding diversity I have come to appreciate.

A Christmas Greeting

Last night, shortly before midnight, I was on the road again looking for the definitive scene for a Christmas greeting. No snow, no Christmas images in my book. Didn’t even get a tree this year.

Not that I’ve become Ebenezer Scrooge. I just don’t have any magical pictures merging Christmas, riding, and a Vespa. But there’s still magic without the Vespa, glittering lights, or the fragrance of evergreen drifting through the house.

After a late, Christmas Eve ride I stopped in Boalsburg and sat on the curb, straining my brain for an idea. And thinking of home. Earlier in the evening our family gathered at our oldest daughter’s house for Christmas. Home for the holidays. Family and friends.

So, from the curbside stop on a cold, winter ride, I wish each of you a Merry Christmas and hopes for a fine New Year!

Reflections on the Triumph Sprint GT1050

“Is that the Batcycle?” asked Bonnie, looking out the café window at Barnes and Noble to the location usually occupied by my Vespa. I’m on my Sunday morning ride and all smiles. Bonnie and her husband exchanged words, differentiating Adam West’s Batcycle from 1966 from the one Christian Bale rides in the latest motion picture. I could sort of see echoes of West’s futuristic motorcycle in the Triumph Sprint GT1050.

Rewind: three days.

I hate this motorcycle. I’ve barely left the parking lot at Kissell Motorsports when both hips twisted into painful knots, just from working to get my feet onto the pegs. I’m not used to the riding position of a sport bike, and maneuvering my body into position seems to trigger one cramp after another.

In front of Kissell’s, I pulled to the curb, 50 feet from the traffic light. I stretched, feet down, trying to act cool because I imagined everyone inside watching, wondering what ritual I was engaged in. The light changed and I raced across the road into a neighborhood, out of sight of motorcycle professionals, hips already cramped again. I stopped the bike, put down the kickstand, and struggled to get off the machine.

Pacing for a few minutes, I think I need to return the Triumph and get the pretty yellow BMW GS1200 I had my eye on. Conservative, comfortable, plush, with an upright riding position. No need to push the envelope. Then I’m telling myself it’s too early to quit and climb back on the Sprint. I can’t imagine any excuse that would disguise the fact that I’m a wimp and can’t handle this sport-touring offering from Triumph. I only have to stop three more times in the nine miles home to reset the muscles in my hips.

The next morning was cold enough to wear my Olympia winter riding suit. The bulk and insulation made it even harder to get my feet up on the pegs.

If it seems I’ve reduced this motorcycle to a riding position, you aren’t far from the truth. I’m 6’2” and my reach to the handlebars seemed extreme. I was leaning so far forward I had to crank my neck back just to see the road. For the first time, I really noticed the helmet on my head. My wrists ached from all the extra pressure. Traveling west on Route 45, I was cold, sore, aching and grumbling. I begin fantasizing about my Vespa.

A stop at Pennsylvania Furnace to survey the landscape allowed me to forget about the motorcycle. I’m certain the lone tree in the field has been photographed ten thousand times if it’s been photographed once. After a few stretches I feel limber and climb back on the Sprint.

To be fair, the Triumph does some things really well. The small windscreen and fairing do a good job keeping the sub-freezing air from making life miserable. And riding through turns and curves is a pleasure.

Moving out of Spruce Creek, about a half hour later, I notice I’m no longer having trouble with my hips and have adapted to the riding position. At speed, through winding roads, my body merges with the machine.

On the scooter and other motorcycles, I’m just sitting. On the Sprint, with my entire body so close to the machine, I become part of it.

Ice along the road reminds me of potential hazards this time of year. It’s the little stuff that gets you.

The Sprint has plenty of power. It’s fast, smooth, and ready to respond. After 30 miles on Interstate 99 I stop to make this picture and realize this bike performs as well on freeways as it does on winding state roads.

I think I’m starting to like this motorcycle. Or at least have a lot of respect for what it can deliver.

Ever the explorer, I take the Sprint off-road to arrive at this lovely view. Too much weight and too little strength. Maneuvering the motorcycle on uneven ground is a challenge. It’s not designed for excursions off the beaten track, at least for me.

I understand the attraction to this kind of machine. The riding position merges body with bike, and we move over the road like a gliding bird – smooth, fluid, responsive. Add an ample supply of torque and horsepower, and it’s easy to see why some riders flock in this direction.

In the end, I know this isn’t the bike for me. My desire to sit up, look at the world, and take pictures is seriously hampered with the Triumph Sprint. The size and weight make stops and starts, U-turns, and other maneuvers on the sides of roads a challenge. But for a rider looking to travel fast and chew up miles the Sprint could be ideal.

On my last night on the Triumph, we rode in a light rain. My body had adapted to the riding position, and I wished there were time for a few more trips.

Cold Weather Preliminaries

Preliminaries. Making ready. Husbanding ones resources. Getting into harness. Ugh.

Buckling on the armor in cold weather is a chore. No way around it. On Sunday morning the thermometer pointed to 14 degrees Fahrenheit. Out came the long underwear, wool socks, sweater, windproof jacket, jacket liner, wires for electric gloves, winter riding jacket, winter riding overpants, boots, balaclava, full helmet. By the time I have all this on I'm tired and ready for a nap.

If you want to ride in cold weather, all mechanical and riding considerations aside, the need to shield flesh and bone is considerable. Especially without windshield, heated grips or hand guards. Yet over and over I find myself on the road, attired like Randy (a tick ready to pop) from a Christmas Story.

I didn't feel up to taking the camera along so I made a series of pictures with the iPhone and processed them with the Instagram app using the Early Bird filter. Click on the image to see a version large enough to see the individual images -- the frost covered vehicles in the driveway, the Christmas wreath in the window of Saint's Cafe, in State College, Pennsylvania. Just another cold, Sunday morning ride on the Vespa.

And as much as I grumble getting ready I am so glad to be on the road...

Cold to the Bone

The Vespa parked outside Beaver Stadium, home of the Penn State Nittany Lion football team. While they get ready for the Outback Bowl in Tampa I'm standing in the parking lot chilled to the bone. Unusual for me with the temperature hovering at 20F. Bone chills arrive near 0F. Something's wrong.

Walking Junior an hour earlier he seemed oblivious while I suffered as wind cut through everything I had on. This winter has been a bigger adjustment. I almost left the scooter in the garage.

The chill picked up where it left off as I approached the Vespa at the end of the day. It wasn't a gear problem either. I think my winter attitude hasn't arrived.

At the video store I watched the last beams of sunlight warm the side of a building across the parking lot. None for me though as I took one last picture before heading home.

It's just one of those rides where my head isn't in the game. Every vehicle seems ready to cut me off or turn in front of me. The road surface is more confusing with patches of ice and myriad stripes of moisture. The ride required exceptional attention. Maybe it wasn't any different than other rides, maybe it was the cold.

Writing now, hours after returning home, I believe I could walk out to the garage and go for a ride. The chill has departed. Maybe my winter attitude is here...