The Triumph Tiger XC Experience

When Craig Kissell of Kissell Motorsports asked me what I thought of the Tiger after spending a few chilly days with it I told him it has moved to the top of my list.  It's pretty, it's fast and it is one of the smoothest shifting motorcycles I have had the pleasure to ride.  But there's a lot more of interest to me with the Triumph Tiger XC.

The weather played a role in this review -- specifically snow and cold.  The first day the Tiger sat in the garage while I watched eight inches of snow fall on the ground.  It was a heavy, wet, big snowflake kind of snow that covered the ground but for most of the day left the road wet with just a few areas of slush.  I would not have hesitated to take the Vespa for a ride but restrained myself from taking the shiny new Triumph out into the salt and slush.  Periodically through the day I visited the Weather.com site on my iPhone trying to speed the storm front along and bring more suitable riding conditions.  Sunday morning found temperatures below freezing with areas of ice and slush near home.

So I waited.

And waited.  Until finally, by mid-afternoon I deemed conditions acceptable to go for a ride.  Morning sunshine and temperatures above freezing during the previous night quickly dispatched the snow.  The very first thing I noticed at 28F was there was a surprising bit of wind protection on the Tiger.  The windscreen sent a large portion of the frigid air up and past my chest and the hand guards did an excellent job of keeping my hands and fingers limber and almost warm.

The Tiger is easy to ride.  One of the few bikes I've ridden where I felt completely at home almost instantly.  That's saying a lot when you consider the jump from Vespa to Tiger.  Riding position was comfortable and so was the seat.  I was able to tear around the countryside in much the same manner I do with the Vespa -- start and stop at will, make U-turns easily, and navigate a wide range of surfaces without anxiety.  All important things to me.

Everyone rides for a different reason.  I like to see things.  New places, new roads, new views.  The ordinary places.  No need for me to make grand excursions or trips.  There's magic everywhere.  The Triumph was an amazingly inviting ride.  Moving through the backroads of Pennsylvania I felt as if I had been riding this bike for years.

After about an hour on the road I could feel my fingers beginning to flicker with the beginnings of numbness when I decided to stop and enjoy the view as I crested a ridge and headed on towards the Allegheny Plateau.  The Tiger has a wonderful engine sound through a nice big muffler.  And while well shielded to make riding pillion enjoyable Triumph must have kept riders like me in mind by making sure there was ample accessible hot metal to warm a poor rider's cold hands.

I think it was here that I was wishing for heated grips.  I hate having cold hands.

There was still snow along the higher stretches of Interstate 99, a part of the ride I chose to try out the Triumph's freeway capabilities.

No problems on the freeway.  At 75mph the engine hums nicely at 5000 rpms.  And at 80mph the motorcycle flows effortlessly.  I believe I could ride this bike a long way.

 A short pause for food and drink.  I have simple tastes that are easily satisfied by a cheesedog.  I can tell cold weather has arrived by the looks and comments I get from people who thing it is utterly insane to be riding on a cold day.

The hot dog doesn't help onlookers make sense of the whole cold weather riding thing.

Speaking of cold weather riding, the landscape and riding routes are so beautiful this time of year that I am loathe to deny myself the pleasure purely because the temperature has dropped.  The Triumph is a great partner for cold weather riding when the roads are clear.  And with the addition of an outlet for my Gerbing Electric Gloves I'm certain I could navigate through most of the winter.

Riding through a shaded valley along the creek I could feel the air chill enough that I figured it was time to head home just 20 miles away.  Farther if I wandered a bit.

The worst part of the ride was when I found myself heading directly at the sun as it neared the horizon.  Riding with one hand on the throttle and the other up shielding my eyes from the glare was tedious at times but not difficult on the stable Tiger.
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At home I've already pictured this machine in the garage, a frequent choice over my Vespa for a variety of riding adventures both large and small.  The bike feels safe, reliable, like we're working together.  It's got enough power to go anywhere and do anything I can ever imagine doing though keep in mind I pretty much feel the same way about my much smaller Vespa GTS 250.

So to be thorough I decide to take the next morning off to ride a bit more before making any final claims or decisions.

THE NEXT MORNING

Warmer temperatures and the promise of clear skies had me out early on the Tiger.  Early enough to pass through a few patches of lingering fog in some of the narrow passages that allow easy passage between the mountains in the ridge and valley portion of Pennsylvania.  My comfort and ease with the motorcycle must have grown in my sleep allowing me to make U-turns at will on even the narrowest of roads -- something I can't say for every motorcycle I've ridden.

A lot of riders judge motorcycles in two ways -- how fast it will go, and how fast it will go a long time.  For me, how easy it is to maneuver at slow speeds is a really important quality for a machine intended for frequent commuting, errand running and all around riding.

But I suppose if you plan to ride a long way in a straight line any big bike will do.  And the Tiger will do that just fine by the way.

No motorcycle review is complete in my mind until I know how well the machine transports me to breakfast.  The Sunset West Restaurant provided the location and the Tiger delivered me there without incident.

 

Breakfast consisted of the usual fare for me and I was pleasantly surprised by the appearance of crispy bacon, an obvious omen of support for the Tiger.  Who actually likes those limp, greasy strips of hog fat that often appear unless you ask specifically for the cook to keep them near the fire a bit longer?

I really wanted to pound some gravel roads with the Tiger but it was just too shiny and new for me to bring myself to put it at risk for a fall.  Not sure why since I had ridden other machines up and down powerline paths.  I must be getting old.

Despite concerns and tires better suited for the pavement I did test the Tiger in a few off road environs and found it capable beyond my skill or temperament.  And it easily managed a number of explorations to what I like to call sylvan treasure sites -- those old out of the way depositories that people too busy to make it to the dump use for their personal detritus.  I can spend a lot of time looking around in these places.  I never find anything useful but the potential is seductive.  I suppose it's what drives Powerball ticket sales.

 

The Triumph Tiger XC is a go machine.  Go now, go fast, and go far.  Anytime.   And it is forgiving enough to go slow, go to the store, and do all the things I like to do.  I stood along the road with my camera thinking, "I want one of these."

I do.  I want one.  And Craig Kissell would be delighted to sell me one.  Or any number of other motorcycles for that matter.

If you're in the neighborhood the Tiger is certainly worth a look or even a test ride. 

First Ride on the Triumph Tiger XC

Just a few quick observations from a short ride home tonight.

"Dead sexy"  I'm thinking as I look down at the handlebar assembly of the Tiger XC.  There's a combination of metallic texture, machining, fasteners and form that come together in a mechanical object that almost makes me drool.  Maybe it was a long week at work or a general lack of riding recently but when I sat on the Triumph in the parking lot of Kissell Motorsports late this afternoon I was primed and ready to roll.

Two days ago I thought the weekend would be sunny and cold.  When I checked the weather report in the parking lot the forecast called for 6 to 10 inches of snow overnight.  Not exactly the best riding conditions. While I might venture out in some snow on the Vespa I won't be taking a brand new motorcycle out for any test rides.  The ride home would have to recharge my riding batteries at least enough to get to Sunday and the promise of clear weather.

Triumph makes a nice motorcycle.  The engine is smooth, powerful and seems to offer endless torque creating a forgiving environment for a rider. Regardless of what gear I was in or how fast I was going the motorcycle just kept going without complaint.  And the transmission was flawless.  Smooth shifting and just, well, almost invisible.  Every Triumph I ridden had this same smooth transmission.

My original plan called for an early Saturday morning departure for points north.  The plan at the moment is to stay in bed as long as possible or until Junior insists I take him out for a walk.  The Tiger will probably spend the day in the garage unless things change dramatically overnight.

The Triumph is easy to ride.  While I would not characterize it as a beginners bike (it's tall) anyone who already knows how to ride would probably find their comfort zone with this motorcycle after a few minutes of riding.  Seating position, pegs, brake and shifter levers, everything just felt like it was exactly where it should be.

Minutes after I took this picture and headed down the road I crossed through some of the thickest water/limestone guck I have seen on a road.  The quarry usually hoses the road off several times a day to keep the dust down.  Someone must have been out sick today.  In case you're reading this Craig I washed the bike off as soon as I got home.  I didn't want your motorcycle looking like my Vespa which was last washed in 2010.

At the local firehall I wondered in the Tiger XC would be a good trial bike and if I could manage to ride over an old car.  I wondered this stuff.  There was never a time in my life I would have attempted such a thing.

But it is nice to daydream.

And that's what tomorrow will bring along with the snow.  If all goes well I should be able to take this motorcycle out on Sunday for a more informative ride.  I'm certain the Triumph will be a delight to tour through the sticks on.

How to Get Your Head Around Cold Weather Riding

How often do you stop along the road to look.  To see.   I ride a lot but I look a lot too.  The fog hanging over the hills, the color of the leaves in the early morning light, the puddles of water that glow at my feet. It's quiet and I'm the only one stirring.

There's too much to see (and photograph) and experience for me to stop riding when it gets cold.  While many, if not most, riders hand up their jacket when the thermometer dips below 60F, or worse, because the calendar page turns to September and a programmed response occurs to drain fuel and get out the Battery Tender.  With a little work a rider can question all the missives about motorcycles and cold weather and perhaps find new magic a cold day.

Let's get the most important point out of the way first -- with cold weather riding comes more risk.  Risk of falling due to loss of traction for all kinds of reasons, risk of bad decision making due to being cold, and generally a risk related to applying all those warm weather skills and habits to an environment that is genuinely different.

All of these things can be managed IF you accept them.  And take steps to deal with them. 

This past Sunday morning was the first cold day of the riding season for me when I rolled out of bed and saw the temperature was 31F.  As much as I ride in cold weather you would think this is all automatic, that I would have a pilot checklist in my head, or better yet on paper.  But I don't. 

I'm not an organized man.  Yet.

While Junior is munching his Purina Pro Plan I'm thinking about riding gear, whether I need the electric gloves for the short ride I plan, time for the ski mask yet.  In general I'm trying to remember what 31F feels like.

By the time I'm on the road the temperature indicator on the Vespa says 33F.  I don't know how accurate it is but I do know from experience that the temperature changes drastically in the area as cold air flows in rivers from the mountains down through the valleys.  You can feel it change as the air flows through your helmet or seeps inside your riding gear to touch unprotected skin.  On mornings like this you have to accept the possibility of ice and adjust your attitude and riding style accordingly.

If you have only one riding style, or if you don't understand why the possibility of ice requires an adjustment, or if you are adherent to the "I ride the way I want and let the world stay out of my way" style of riding, well perhaps you shouldn't rush right out in cold weather.  Not until you have some time to re-evaluate things a bit.

There is a lot of water flowing around this part of Pennsylvania and in many instances it flows across the road creating hazards for cars and nightmares for motorcycle and scooter riders.  The Commonwealth does a good job with signs for a lot of known occurrences of water on the road but they can't sign them all.  That leaves each of us with some decisions -- park the bike for the duration, or learn how to manage this stuff.  And assume the heightened risk that you may miss something and you will need to know how to respond to the sudden appearance of ice on the road.

I simple terms it means slowing down, particularly on curves so that you have enough time to stop within you visual range of sight.  Most riders don't know how slow this actually is on little country roads.  I only lean hard when I can see a long way off when the temperature is near or below freezing. 

And you have to remember that even on absolutely dry roads the low temperature affects your tires and the amount of friction available to keep the machine tracking along nicely.  Straight lines aren't much of a problem unless you need to stop fast and you find out your summer stopping distance computer between your ears doesn't apply to these new circumstances. 

And if you are under dressed, teeth chattering, hands numb, and the response time from seeing a hazard, convincing your body to move, and then actually executing a maneuver has diminished, well, that's not a good thing either.

All of these things can be managed.  Takes some thought, some humility, and ultimately desire.  And desire is the fuel that keeps me going. 

I keep riding because I love the experience, the sights, the places that appear on the road.  My Sunday morning trip into town is long enough for me to get lost in the magic of the ride -- present, aware, mindful.  Almost a spiritual place.

Stopping on another gravel road to watch the sun rising over the fields and being happy to be alive and walking on the earth.  It's a simple feeling but one that isn't easily gained.

Every rider is different but I particularly relish the transition from cold to warmth, in this instance a cup of hot cocoa in a warm cafe.  I'm not sure why but when I repeat this simple trip in a car I don't stop, don't see much, and just wolf down the cocoa.  If I even stop to have it. 

There's no magic in a car ride.

As my hands start to warm and I'm sitting at the table staring at a bagel it seems special.  Special enough to make a photograph and important enough to share here.
 

There are a lot of cold days where the road is dry save for those places where it isn't.  It's worth it for me to learn how to deal with the cold and keep riding.  On some days it takes work for me to get my head around it all but when I do I am pleased with the results.

It's won't be too much longer until I put the winter tires on the Vespa.

Ducati Riding

That's me, a dumbstruck tourist with a Ducati.  The Ducati Diavel to be exact.  Fresh off a Vespa pushing 22 horsepower to a power cruiser with an additional 140 horsepower.  That's 162 horsepower for those of you who ride K bikes.

This was how an evening ride with the owner of Kissell Motorsports began a few months ago.

Actually this ride began many months before that when Craig Kissell announced the new Ducati and suggested he and I should take a ride together and take notes.  Sounded like a plan to me.

We left the shop with Craig on the Multistrada and me on the Diavel. The last time I was on a Ducati was a ride on the Hypermotard. Another experience in the meaning of contrast between a Vespa and something with power far beyond my imagination.  I'd read about the Diavel and forged a healthy respect in my head.  It seemed to be an engine on wheels, and one of those wheels, the rear one, was eight inches wide.

I chose to start with the Diavel figuring I would face my fears and inadequacies right away, and also take advantage of the freeway leg of our ride -- smooth pavement with gently sweeping curves.  The easiest landscape to ride.  At some point it occurred to me that Craig might be checking up on me after having woken up in the middle of the night wondering what possessed him to just start giving me motorcycles to ride.  He needed to see first hand that a Vespa rider could handle something that required more than twisting a throttle.  If he did have concerns he never voiced them.

If someone had asked me to describe the Ducati experience at that moment I would have said, "Powerful, finicky, mechanical."  When you are riding a Ducati you know you are on a machine.  That's how I felt after the Hypermotard.  And all the Ducati riders I knew would get a faraway look in their eyes when they talked about their motorcycles and the sounds they made.

I expected more of the same with the Diavel.

I was wrong.

Craig Kissell is pretty laid back.  At least he seems that way when you seem him at the shop or out in public.  He seems that way when he rolls an expensive motorcycle out of the showroom, hands me the keys and says to have fun.  I've watched him talk with customers in the same easy manner that we talk.  He lets you decide what you like and what you don't.  I didn't think I would like the Diavel.  He didn't care, just said to write whatever I wanted.  I suppose he knows everyone has favorite motorcycles and others they don't care for.

We had less than two hours to ride.  Not enough time to ride, sit down and share opinions and have me take any kind of notes that would be a rigorous comparison of the two Ducati motorcycles.  So I'll just share my general response to both.  If you want to know what Craig thinks stop by and see him.

The Diavel was one of the smoothest motorcycles I have ever ridden.  Shockingly so.  And the engine sound and smoothness was definitely un-Ducati like in my estimation, misguided as it is.  And the bike was powerful, fast, comfortable and easy to ride.  After 25 miles I was smiling and pleasantly surprised by the performance.  No bad words from me about this bike though definitely not something that fits into my riding life.

Now it was my turn on the Multistrada, a Ducati that I had my eye on for a long time, one that I felt would definitely fit into my riding life.  A mile down the road and I'm telling myself, "This is a Ducati".  Touchy power, the mechanical clatter I associate with a Ducati engine, and a harsher suspension than I expected.  Riding a Vespa GTS spoils you when I comes to road comfort.

We got back to Kissell Motorsports at closing time in a rush, a rush that those two motorcycles embraced easily.  Before I pass judgment on the Multistrada I need to ride it a bit longer.  And take a few more pictures.

Until then, all I can say for sure, is that riding a Ducati is fun.

Fall Skies and Motorcycle and Scooter Magic

Riding under a strong, dramatic sky on a fall day lends offers a certain je ne sais quoi.  I feel something different in my blood, an excitement shimmer through my bones just being on the road and moving.  Scenes that pass with vague indifference in a car ignite my imagination on the Vespa.  Or any motorcycle I have ridden in fact.  Those skies don't favor one machine over another.

This time of year, with bigger shifts in temperature and light, I find a rolling unfolding of aerial tapestry that threaten to cut my rides short as I stop and watch shafts of light sweep across a field, clouds pass overhead in a collage of shapes and forms rekindling memories of childhood spent lazing on a hilltop just watching the sky, free of worries beyond being home in time for dinner.

 On days I can't ride to work I often find myself rolling the Vespa from the garage and heading down the road "just for a short ride" I promise Kim.  An unwinding of the strangling energy of a busy day, the quick thrill of flying over the pavement, the momentary fantasy of freedom that a ride can bring.  And then, an image of something so ordinary and familiar beckons for attention.  Standing along the road, not far from home I look and wonder and make a picture.

The Vespa is elegant in its mechanical simplicity and continues to surprise me with its faithful performance and willingness to tackle anything I've asked of it, from smooth pavement to gravel paths to snow covered roads.  I would be lying to say I have not considered other machines, imagined different rides in different ways on motorcycles that have caught my attention.  But I continue to be glamoured by the Vespa, it's magical hold clouding my mind, calling me back, over and over again to the silver scooter. 

The important thing is to ride. Even for just a few minutes -- that's all it takes.  Here I stopped to look back towards home, watch the sun go down, and express some gratitude for being alive and walking on the earth.

I never do that when I'm driving.

So I keep riding. For fellow riders keep riding.  For those would be riders reading and dreaming, take the leap, assume the risk, and find some magic.

Especially now, under those hypnotic fall skies, cool days and fast changing colors.

Little Rides on a Fall Day

Last Sunday morning arrived cool and foggy, the kind of day I relish as photographer and rider.  The falling leaves signal a change in days, a shortness of light and warmth and the arrival of the official Vespa riding season.

Just down the street I pull over to ponder the ride.  The painted white arrows echo the conversation in my head, the uncertainty of which direction I should go.  Eventually I decide to ride directly to my Sunday morning meeting with Gordon to talk photography and drink tea.  But until I get there, I savor the ride, no matter how ordinary or short.

Scooter riders become familiar with the liberal interpretation of parking rules, especially when applied to spaces beyond the reach of the four-wheeled world.  I'm not sure if it's legal to park here but so far I've not attracted the interest of the local parking constabulary.  It is after all, a moped.

Vespa riders are badasses.  We sit in a dark corner of the room, back to the wall, and survey the world that's ours to explore.  With tea cup in one hand and my Canon G9 (I seem to have lost it somewhere) in the other, I record the view at Saint's Cafe on a Sunday morning.

The ride home under a clear morning sky offers a different experience.  After nearly dumping the Vespa on a steep drop from pavement to gravel caused by hasty decision to explore I stop to admire the landscape and admonish myself for being a careless rider.  I suppose it's always good to look in the mirror and remind yourself of those inner weaknesses.

Later that day, the sun on the other side of the horizon, I ride back to town to an appointment.  Another little ride, another reminder of how satisfying even the little rides on a fall day can be.

No reason to wait for extreme adventures to enjoy the satisfaction of riding.

The Hello Kitty Harley

Nothing says Harley-Davidson like a Hello Kitty water bottle.  I spied this one on Paul Ruby's Harley Crossbones and wondered how he missed the marketing messages that Harley has poured millions into -- with much success I might add. I may have suggested a HOG member seeing it might confiscate his bike.

Now I wish I had held my tongue.  He must have been upset because he's traded the Harley for a 2007 BMW K1200 GT.  Hello Kitty will be more at home there I guess.

Paul and I left early to ride to Altoona to pick up my father-in-law before riding on to a new breakfast spot. Light traffic, long lights, and the easy of parking the Vespa allow for some quick pictures like this one. 

Remember those cool tablets that they used to give out on the first day of school along with the giant green wooden pencils?  If you weren't alive and in the first grade around 1960 forget I mentioned this.

Anyways, the Blank Book Company has been making school supplies, tablets, notebooks, etc, for over one hundred years.  This was their original building in Roaring Spring.  I can't quite decide which is more unique -- the architecture or the two Vespa scooters with the Harley.

Mamie's in Martinsburg. While Paul checks the map to figure out where we are the cooks are preparing what was among the finest breakfast sandwiches I have ever devoured.  Devoured is the right verb.  I had a half steak and egg sandwich on homemade bread with grilled peppers and onions. 

I'm not a donut guy.  I'll eat them but am not impressed.  At least not until I had one of Mamie's donuts.  Fresh, warm, sugary.  This is the kind of donut that Homer Simpson would abandon his family for.

When I looked at the folder on my computer for images of this ride the donut was the last one even though we put another 65 miles on the odometer before reaching home.  The donut was the capstone experience for this ride.  Thank god I didn't ride 1000 miles to find it.

Embracing Failure, Return of the iPhone

Waking to fog still excites me.  Duty and responsibility take a back seat as I scheme to find a way to explore a world half shrouded, half hidden by fog.  This past weekend was no exception and after a rush to get Junior exercised, fed, watered and Milkboned I was off to make photographs and eventually meet my friend Gordon at Starbucks.

The world was perfect.  Even the occasional draw of my glove across my visor to clear condensation could not interfere with the moment.  As I walked into position to make a photograph along Spring Creek I was presented with a wonderful opportunity for personal growth in the form of acceptance -- the SD card for my digital camera was missing. 

 Obviously all was not lost.  My recently revived iPhone (not long ago I abandoned it for a Trac Phone.  That was a bad plan professionally.) was in my pocket and I surrendered to the reality that photography on this morning would be different than I planned. The fog was subtle and that ephemeral nature would easily be lost without the more powerful rendering of my Canon G9.  The iPhone is closing in though.  Riding on along the creek I was surprised how angry I was with myself for being so irresponsible.  Again.  I could tell you about all the pictures that got away.  Instead, I embraced the failure and made the most of the situation.

And I still could ride.

 Earlier in the week I did the same thing on another evening ride.  No card in the camera.  So I had to resort to the iPhone.  It's not that the pictures are bad, they just aren't what I planned.  And again, my expectations struggled against me seeking to ruin a lovely evening on the road.

The roads here are sublime.  While there are times when I wait for vehicles to leave a scene for the most part these roads are empty on a Sunday morning.  I could have had breakfast here without concern. 

One last detour at a tract of land managed by the Pennsylvania Game Commission.  Kim and I used to rent a farm bordering these lands and could walk out our door and walk for hours without seeing another person.  Those were pre-Vespa days.  Standing here a flood of memories swept over me like ghosts from the past.  For those of you who know where this is (of for the Game Warden reading this) I did not motor into this position.  I dutifully pushed the Vespa around the gate and posed it for this picture.  There is no outlaw biker in me and I was not about to intrude on this place with my scooter.

Well, I thought about it for a second or two.

By the time I arrived at Starbucks I had moved beyond embracing my failure to bring along a working camera to deciding I should reward myself for making the most of a situation I could not change.  Two of these cookies died in the process.

I'll post the black and white prints for the 3 Prints Project when I get a moment to make some scans.  Right now I would rather ride.  It's only 9:30pm.  Perhaps a run to the store for some chocolate to go along with a cup of tea is in order.

Evening Patrol by Vespa

One evening ride, one quiet trip, no different than the ones before.  The road moves by, my eyes absorb the the passing landscape as light slowly fades and leads to moonlight glimmer.  At least that's how I think about it now as I write, a reminder of riding and the quiet transformation that occurs on the road.

Standing before Mount Nittany, a hill in the valley where I live, after so many years the experience has grown sublime.  In all weathers and times I find myself here.

All is not necessarily quiet in the physical world.  Behind me the din of traffic gnaws and chews at the mental hush that the Vespa can bestow.

Bright orange earplugs can't diminish the thunder of a passing truck and it's easily to lose myself to the noise.  Still, with a bit of practice, the thoughts inside my helmeted head can remain quiet and relaxed, the wandering pace of the ride bringing order to the mental chaos of the day.

A gift of riding.

A hundred times I've stood beside a road as the day fades, no house or car on person in sight, and here I confront the moment and a life unfolding.  Beyond enjoyment, past relaxation, these evening rides move towards a kind of active meditation.  For a moment I think about a loud motorcycle I've ridden and the impossibility of entering this place.

There is no plan or route or destination.  Just the movement of the Vespa over the road, the track it follows over well paved road with little to interrupt a slow change in outlook and attitude during the evening patrol.

As day surrenders to night I know why I ride -- beyond fun and enjoyment, adventure or challenge, the deflation of noise and jagged energy made possible by this scooter brings me back, over and over again, to the road and ride.  A few miles, a handful of minutes, it doesn't take long to find my way.

At least on some days it's why i'm on the evening patrol...