I made an error in the previous post indicating I would be reviewing the BMW K1600 GT. The bike I actually departed Kissell Motorsports with was the GTL version. More features, more luxury, more of everything. And this motorcycle was probably the most dramatic change from my Vespa GTS 250ie ever. And again, in almost every respect.
The past couple days I've been looking over notes scribbled on 3x5 index cards, on my iPhone, and examining memories triggered by the numerous photos I made. Still searching for the story of this motorcycle, what it's like to ride, what it did to me. Yes, I think it did something to me but can't quite put my finger on it. Perhaps I've not put enough miles on it and should plead a case to Craig Kissell to borrow it for a few more days. After all, the typical K1600 rider will be thinking in terms of thousands of miles.
It was a beautiful couple days of riding. Photography and riding are always at odds and the K1600 GTL wants to go and not dilly dally on the way. By force of will I would transcend whatever magic the BMW was trying to spin on me and bring the motorcycle to a halt to pursue other interests. I swear I cannot pass a lone tree in a field. And we have a lot of them here in Pennsylvania. Big trees in the middle of a field were there to give a team of horses or oxen a shady place to rest at lunch time.
With gas prices so high some farmers are returning to draft animals. I don't except John Deere to be shutting its doors anytime soon though.
Weird. I'm talking about the most modern BMW motorcycle, draft animals and John Deere tractors. Just what the marketing group was hoping for.
To complete the bucolic rural picture I present the BMW K1600 GTL with a passing manure truck. Thank god the motorcycle has traction control. Liquid manure on the road is a real hazard.
I've been jotting down notes in my Moleskine journal and trying to piece together what to say about this machine. As a diehard Vespa rider I can say it was, well, amazing. The challenge ahead is to define amazing.
I quick note while downing a cup of lunchtime tea. This evening I'm supposed to be heading out on a BMW K1600 GT. The transition from the Vespa to a motorcycle is always sort of strange. This one will prove to be a bigger leap than usual. To help relax into it I looked to YouTube for some vicarious experience. About half way through you can see the motorcycle on the road. Looks like it handles as well as my Vespa.
There's nothing unusual about heading to the convenience store for some chocolate to go with my late night cup of tea. A short ride, nice night air, a satisfying experience. Seeing my reflection in the front doors though had me asking what sort of rider I was.
Not long ago I watched a guy ride up on a big Victory touring bike. The motorcycle sparkled and the black leather fringe hanging from the hand grips matched his dazzling leather riding suit. Boots, helmet, gloves, everything was selected with care. He could have stepped out of a catalog.
So here I am standing in front of the doors looking at my reflection. Unshaven, messed up hair. Short, black and yellow Triumph vented riding jacket, unwashed since I bought it in 2006. Hanging out from under is the shirt tail of the beat up red flannel shirt I was wearing all day while working in the garden. My eyes look down past my filthy jeans to a pair of mud crusted boots. Some riders dress like pirates, others don their Aerostich gear, while others assume the careful attire of a variety of riding styles. Me on the other hand, I've completely dropped the ball. A derelict has just ridden up on a Vespa.
Grabbed a couple Hershey bars while mincing through the store trying to minimize the amount of mud shedding from my boots. I'm not sure I've every seen a muddy, unkempt rider who wasn't associated with a dirt bike. Perhaps I lead a sheltered life.
And don't ask why as the clock neared midnight I was still in such a sorry state.
The next morning all was well with the world. The sun was out and so was I -- this time clean and in my traditional riding clothes. A quick stop at the local quarry for a picture as I tried to figure out where to go and what to do. Being Mother's Day I couldn't wander far being a good husband and son-in-law.
So breakfast is always a good choice. Time to think. A scrap of paper on the table had the words AAUW Used Booksale scribbled on it. Perfect. A serendipitous revelation. You never can have too many books right?
Arrived early on the second morning of the sale and didn't expect to find any treasures. Wrong as usual. Found three gems for Kim to add to her Mother's Day loot. And a nice hardback edition of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness for my daughter. She likes travel books. What could be a better choice?
Later in the evening I had to ride into State College. On the way down the sidewalk, camera in hand I'm shooting pictures, little sketches of whatever. I decide to make a self portrait with the photography word in the window. That's me -- photography. Later, at home, looking at the images I see the motorcycle in the reflection. Never saw it while making the picture. Serendipity at work.
Didn't hear it either. Someone better man up and get a loud exhaust.
On the way home riding towards Mt. Nittany, that iconic geological formation so intimately tied to Penn State. Perfect evening with postcard light. A fine way to end an unusal riding weekend. I don't want to write serendipitous again because it doesn't sound nearly strong enough to bolster my ego, reputation or style. And that's a big part of riding.
This is a story about what goes through a rider's mind when their throttle freezes. On a Sunday morning awhile back I planned to ride into town to meet BMW rider Dan Leri at Saint's Cafe. The frost on the car and truck reminded me the temperature was still dropping below freezing and that I should pay close attention to the road. And I worried a bit about Dan on his 1150 RT but more on that in a bit.
Dan wears a lot of hats in addition to a helmet. He's the director of Innovation Park at Penn State, a father and husband, and somewhere in his past a member of one of Joe Paterno's Nittany Lion teams. All this was of interest as I parked the Vespa in the pre-dawn light of State College, Pennsylvania where I was going to learn from Dan what goes through your head when your throttle freezes -- something he's recently learned on a ride to work.
It's not often I arrive at Saint's before they're open. Poor planning on my part to have to sit outside in the cold. At least the light was nice for the few minutes I had to wait to get a cup of tea and a bagel.
This is the bike in question -- a 2005 (?) BMW 1150 RT. Dan describes it as the perfect machine. It's the typical conversation with a BMW rider. They speak in a casual, even, measured tone, slowly drawing you into their delusion of performance, reliability, and rides around the world. Eventually their eyes roll back into their heads, English transforms into an ancient Teutonic tongue and sweat beads on their foreheads. At this point it's best to nod your head politely and let them finish. I think a requirement of ownership of these kinds of motorcycles is to evangelize whenever possible. Dan keeps at me. I recently joined the BMW MOA.
That's Dan in his Roadcrafter jacket. He is a hi-viz kind of guy.
I was in Denver when a text message arrived on the morning of March 25. It read:
My throttle cable froze solid while passing a truck this morning on I99 on the way to work. Since I was passing, I was going 80mph.
IMPORTANT NOTE TO GRACIE: If you're reading this you should understand the concept of what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Ask your dad to explain that. Don't scare your mother with this information.
The message continues:
Fast ride to work! Good thing traffic was spaced out! I eventually shut it off, coasted to a stop, messed until I got a little play in it, then high RPM clutched to Wegmans (grocery store) to get hot water to get it thawed, and down to idle, then let it run to generate engine heat to thaw it. That got me another mile and a refreeze, (it was 18F that morning -- yes, Dan's a serious rider) and a repeat procedure!
You have a lot of funny "now what" thoughts while stuck going 80mph and wanted to get close to help and a solution before shutting down!
So I'm in Denver reading these text messages and the first thing that comes to mind is, "Geez, you tap out a lot of characters for a text message." Then I think about what I would do -- hit the kill switch. As Dan and I talked he said that if he did that he would be a long way from anywhere. Listening to him I realized he was more and more like MacGyver as he described his thought process and plan to ride on as far as he could. If he only had tin foil and some chewing gum he could have continued around the world. The long way.
A bad photo of the cable distribution box on the BMW and the source of the freezing problems.
Standing in Dom Chang's (Charlie6 of Redleg's Rides) garage near Denver I showed him the text message. In minutes the garage was full of Teutonic sounds uttered from a man with his eyes rolling back into his head.
I had sent a message back to Dan, short, concise, and embodying my interest:
Wow. So what kind of thoughts?
Here are Dan's. Maybe you have others.
1. Oops! This is interesting!
2. This will redline and blow if I pull the clutch in.
3. How many feet will it take me to stop this bike without the servo-assisted brakes?
4. Why didn't the folks in the Toyotas with stuck accelerators simply put it in neutral, get stopped quickly, and turn it off?
5. If traffic is spaced properly, I can make it to the 55mph zone before shutting down -- I'll be closer to help and a thawing solution.
6. If I get near a Sheetz, they'll have hot water to thaw the cable distribution box.
7. A Lowe's or Home Depot will have a small torch I can buy.
8. Where the hell is the sun?!
9. At 19 degrees at 7:15am, at what time will the temp be closer to 32 degrees?
10. How can I get the heat from inside my Gerbing gloves wrapped around the cable distribution box?
11. My wife will kill me if I die this way :)
12. I hope all the groundhogs are too cold to come out this early.
13. What would MacGyver do?
14. James Bond would simply ride up the deck of a slower moving truck.
15. I might be late for my first meeting of the day.
16. I hope it's at least in the high 20's for the ride home tonight.
17. Diann will kill me if I'm late.
And that's all he wrote. In text messages mind you. That's persistence. Didn't realize how much so until I had to type all that.
Now that the warm weather is here you don't have to worry about freezing throttles. Dan determined there was a very small hole in the cable distribution box which must have taken in some water when he was trailering the bike through a storm.
Trailering a BMW. Karmic justice that the throttle froze.
Today is May 1, 2011, now officially known as A Bloggers Centerline Day. This moto-world event is the brainchild of Gary France, Harley Road King rider and author of USA Tour on a Harley-Davidson. Head over there to read the rules. If your picture is the winner you'll receive some cash. But you need to do it today. I had planned to post earlier about the contest but just forgot. Really. Wasn't trying to minimize the competition...
So here I am, on the road I love so much. When I left the house this morning I was a bit puzzled about where to shoot the picture. Most of the quiet secondary road's markings are more along the lines of roadkill than paint. Persistence paid off and I was able to make a few shots. Any of you who have made self portraits with a little point and shoot camera know what a pain it is to get the timer working, get the camera in postion, get yourself in position, and then wonder if the thing is going off. And then up and check and do it all again. By the third shot I was dead and on the road.
On into town to meet some friends for breakfast. Sunday morning is quiet in State College. Only the devout students are up this early. Guess there aren't any devout students. At least not in the alley.
And one last shot on the way home. Another road, another try. With a belly full of eggs, ham, bacon, potatoes and toast, and a big glass of orange juice there was no way I was going to get down on the road again. So here I am, on the centerline, my father's scruffy old Wolverine boots, celebrating the first ABCD: A Bloggers Centerline Day.
Looking forward to perusing other blogs to see what kind of centerlines are in other parts of the world.
My dog Junior watched with a forlorn look as I rolled the Vespa out of the garage. The language barrier kept me from explaining I would only be gone a few hours, that there was work to do today that would keep me from riding longer, that I would be home soon to offer treats and tennis balls. Riding lust effectively inoculated me from any battered baby seal looks that Junior can muster. I'm immune to canine manipulation.
The riding plan was loose, almost non-existent, a general direction and time constraint with plans to limit my stops for pictures. Charlie6 of Redleg's Rides inquired about the appearance of the Vespa GTS with the GIVI E370 topcase. That request haunts some of these pictures.
From the moment I twisted the throttle I could feel a vague, mental discomfort about the road ahead. Familiar, and not unlike what best-selling backpacking author Colin Fletcher describes as "Fletcheritis", the anxiety a hiker feels before a big trip.
A recurring and scurvy condition (typically, a horrendous slump with variegated symptoms, uniformly exhausting and dire, or semi-dire) that oozes into existence at such moments of crisis.
And though I was only planning a trip of a few hours I could quickly tell my heart was elsewhere. Too many thoughts in my head, too many stories swirling in my brain.
A ride is a series of decision points, at least for me when it's no longer a question of where to go but what to do. A turn off into a field would offer a chance to consider the options. The summer tires on the scooter are not nearly as good off the road as the winter tires I have been using for the past few months. Made a note to be careful.
Another stop, another picture, and I surrender the riding plans and decide on breakfast instead. I can ride another day.
Parked across the street from the Cafe on the Park in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania, a familar breakfast stop. By this time my stomach has taken control from my brain and I'm nothing more than an automaton.
Only one biker in the place. One of those bikers, the kind that have nothing in common with me. And wear clothes with far more words on them than I'm comfortable with. I have a black T-shirt on with the word "NO" in white letters across the chest. It's a work related thing.
Bacon, the candy of meat. Breakfast erases just about any concern I have. The only way this could have been better is if I was eating it after 120 run that was just the first of four riding legs before needing to be home at 4pm. But that will have to wait for another day when I'm not suffering from psuedoriding relucto wimpism.
After renewing membership in the clean plate club I made plans to ride to the local farmers market to visit a tame animal the owner of the cafe described. Seemed appropriate to visit a petting zoo since I didn't appear too thrilled with riding.
In the park beyond the Vespa a group of Tai Chi practioners moved in slow motion. For a moment the Vespa seemed overly powerful. Just for a moment and then it returned to it's utilitarian state.
This is Bentley, a 17 year old American Bison and his owner indicated he is tame, that she raised him by hand from two days old. I inquired on the life span of a bison and was told he cold live for 40 years. Since the owner was at the farmer's market selling bison steaks and roasts I wondered to myself about his longevity until she interjected that Bentley isn't worried. He won't end up on the table.
She shared another interesting factoid -- the American Bison is the only land mammal that never gets cancer. Did not know that.
Bought a sirloin steak and headed for home. All plans for a nice long ride evaporated in a cloud of mental resistance. Oh well, I had to go to work anyways...
I don't often post non-riding items on Scooter in the Sticks but this video warrants a look. Early this morning I watched author J.K. Rowling deliver a powerful message on the lessons of failure and the power of human imagination. I expected Harry Potter but heard something more striking. Rowling talked about imagination as a unique and special power.
At the end of her address she offered a challenge to graduates that is equally appropriate to riders and their journeys. Rowling invokes the words of the ancient Roman philosopher Seneca:
"As is a tale, so is life, not how long it is but how good it is."
So I guess I'll continue to focus on the good trips.
After years of riding, writing and taking pictures it's easy to loose track of individual rides. I went through Scooter in the Sticks and picked out some of my favorite or more memorable experiences. They aren't Vespa reviews or anything like that. Just reflections of the kind of experiences I have had.
I didn't include any winter rides on the Vespa or motorcycle rides. These are the rides that any Vespa owner could undertake without concern for rain, snow or ice.
In my estimation riding is a little miracle accessible on a daily basis. Hard to describe if you've never ridden before. And if you have you probably have a collection of your own favorites.
A pre-dawn ride from State College, Pennsylvania to Pittsburgh to explore the landscape of my youth. A day of exploring and 320 miles of scooter adventure.
I finally broke down after six years of Vespa riding and bought a topcase. This one a GIVI E370 with a holding capacity of 39 liters -- big enough for my fullface helmet, raingear, digital SLR, gloves, and a jacket. Carefully packed mind you. The thing locks and is will keep the contents nice and dry. There is a quick release button that allows me to remove the case from the mount if I decide I want to haul something unusual.
Not sure why it took me so long to get one of these things. Their utility was apparent immediately. I'm slow to adopt new things. Maybe I will get a motorcycle in another five to ten years.
The quick release came in handy today for attaching two new Kenda K413 tires to the back of the scooter. Time to remove the Heidenau winter tires and get ready for snow and ice free tires. I won't be amused if it starts to snow again.
This Vespa GTV 250 was parked outside. Spent a few minutes talking with Duke who I thought was the owner but it turned out the scooter belonged to his wife. He said they would be trailering the GTV to the Mid Atlantic Scooter Rally in New Holland, Pennsylvania in late May. I tried to convince him that he and his wife should ride to the rally. It's only 120 miles.
Hopefully tomorrow evening I get pick my own scooter up with some new shoes. I've tried a half dozen different brand tires and they have all performed well. Now I am just trying to find ones that last a little longer.
As a child Easter meant coloring eggs, going to church, and waking up early to see what treasures were left by the Easter Bunny. As the years passed holidays took on a more reflective quality. While they continue to be opportunities to connect with family and friends, more often for me they become reminders of what is important.
Not long ago I watched Highlander, the 1986 film by Russell Mulcahy about immortal warriors and was unnerved by the scene in the in the above YouTube clip -- a potent reminder of the clock marking the minutes and days of my life. It follows an entire lifetime in a few minutes with one character immortal and the other not.
Sitting in the living room typing this note, looking out the window at the greening landscape, the spring flowers, the birds busy finding materials for nests and family, I can't help but think every moment has is precious and I should act accordingly.
Life flies past in a dazzling array of experience and memory. As hard as I try to pay attention I continually get swept up in the noise of living. A holiday can allow me to step away, slow down, and see what's in front of me. So can a movie. Riding remains a reliable pathway to attention, focus, and appreciation of living. When riders utter the word freedom this is what often comes to mind. The road sets me free.
This morning I took a lazy, meandering ride to meet my friend Gordon. As the Vespa flows through the landscape I have a chance to think about the paths, options, and opportunities available to me. And all the people who make the journey rich. My wife Kim, her fire and spirit, love and support, kindness and compassion... She helps keep me pointed in the right direction. Family and friends fill my world in ways they'll never know.
The clock is ticking. It makes everything precious.
Be careful on the road. Warm wishes for your own experience, family and friends. To the embrace of the time each of us has ahead...
Last Thursday evening I rode into State College, Pennsylvania. The sky was clear with a few wispy clouds made pink by the lowering sun and the temperature was hovering near 50F. Perfect conditions for riding after a miserable winter. Here's the scene at the motorcycle parking spaces across from Schlow Library -- three Vespa scooters. So far this year the motorcycle riders are scarce to non-existent. As I was riding home I knew there had to be a reason. Maybe a helpful motorcycle rider can indicate the right choice.
10. Earth Day is approaching and I want to do my part for fuel conservation by staying off the road.
9. My Roadcrafter suit is at the dry cleaners.
8. Didn't want to risk a breakdown and miss The Office because my Tivo is on the fritz.
7. I just hate waving to all those scooters on the road.
6. Fifty degrees is too cold to dress like a pirate.
5. The battery is dead on my GPS.
4. My wife says I'm not allowed to go out.
3. My husband whines like a little baby whenever I go for a ride in the evening.
2. I thought only scooters were allowed on the road until June 1.
1. Fifty degrees??? Are you nuts???
Maybe there are other reasons. But I know as soon as the temperature hits 70F motorcycles appear like flies.
And just so you don't think all scooter riders are tough or something. I saw this Honda Ruckus at work yesterday with a rain coat. Isn't it just wrong to cover your machine when it's not at home? I think the BMW MOA rescinds membership rights if someone does that with a BMW.
Whenever I leave my Vespa for service at Kissell Motorsports I didn’t really know what was happening to it or who was doing the work. The scooter would be left behind and then, as if by magic, it would be returned with whatever mechanical needs addressed. For some people that would be enough. I got it into my head that I wanted to know the people who were evaluating my machine, turning the wrenches, and actually working on the Vespa. Or maybe I had a desire to enter the Employees Only realm, pull the curtain aside, and become part of the secret world of motorcycle service. So I suggested to Craig Kissell that it would be a good idea for me to interview the technicians, put a human face on that part of his business. About six weeks ago I took a step over the line and told Tom that I was going to interview him.
Meeting your mechanic is sort of like going to the dentist. You know you have to go but you’re afraid of what he’s going to say. They have a special power of life and death over motorcycles and scooters and I treat them accordingly. Something short of a blood sacrifice. My friend Paul would offer a box of Dunkin Donuts. I completely drop the ball and show up with a camera and the voice recorder in my iPhone.
One thing I tell would be riders when asked the ago old question, “What kind of scooter or motorcycle should I buy?” is to buy something you can have serviced by a local mechanic. Everyone can define local in his or her own way. For instance, BMW riders feel a local mechanic is someone within a day’s ride. So about 1000 miles. My definition puts them a bit closer. Either way, make sure you have a mechanic who can work on your bike before you buy it.
Having a good mechanic means more time to ride and less time involved in transporting a bike around. No one needs to remind me about the notion of spare bikes.
So I’m talking to Tom, trying to act cool and knowledgeable and hoping he doesn’t remember my unfortunate attempt to change the drive belt on my LX150. Detecting no smirks I move ahead with the interview. He’s putting a new, high performance exhaust system on a shiny red Ducati.
STEVE: So, how did you become a mechanic?
TOM: Everyone in my family is a mechanic. I started when I was five years old. My brothers and dad taught me. That’s how I learned about engines and stuff. I went to the Motorcycle Mechanics Institute in Arizona to get the credentials.
(At this point I’ve run out of questions. Tom seems content and isn’t offering anything more. Just as I prepare to wind up the interview he continues.)
TOM: My dad’s blind. He’s the local lawn mower repairman and is pretty good at listening to engines and fixing them by what he hears.
STEVE: How does listening fit into motorcycle repair?
TOM: You feel things through listening. The sounds tell a story. I end up making a lot of motorcycle noises.
(He starts making some remarkably mechanical sounds.)
TOM: That’s a Ducati.
(I hear a couple snickers from other guys in the shop and wonder if I am about to be the punch line to a joke. Tom must have sensed my complete and utter mechanical incompetence and would believe anything he said.)
TOM: Like those guys on CarTalk, Click and Clack, they’re always asking people to make the noise their car is making.
(He makes another noise that sounds like a transmission problem.)
TOM: You can figure out a lot of things about a problem if you learn to listen carefully. It’s not all about computers. That’s where the passion comes in. For a mechanic to diagnose a problem he often needs to hear the sound, whether it’s a clank clank clank, a clunk clunk clunk or a boing boing boing. That’s where my noise making comes from.
(The other guys in the shop have stopped what they were doing as if something was about to happen when one of them tells me to ask him about Karl. Tom stops what he’s doing and his face transforms into another person, someone I recognize but can’t quite remember until he suddenly breaks into a perfect rendition of Karl Childers, the character made famous by Billie Bob Thornton in SlingBlade.)
TOM: I like them French fried potaters.
If you don't know of Sling Blade check out the video below. The main character, Karl, is an engine expert, hence the connection to a mechanic:
(Everyone cracks as he continues. Standing in the shop I feel like I have entered a David Lynch film and look around for Frank Booth. After a couple minutes of Sling Blade I ask another question.)
STEVE: What’s the easiest bike to work on here?
TOM: A Triumph is probably the easiest bike to work on. Straightforward, simple, reliable engineering. But my favorite bike to work on is a Ducati. I love the sound, the feel, the passion that goes into their creation. Every nut and bolt and fastener is well thought out and engineered. Every connection and cable and wire is chosen with excellence in mind.
(He begins speaking in tongues.)
TOM: There’s nothing like the sound of a Ducati.
(He shows me the new exhaust he’s installing on a Ducati 1198S.)
TOM: These pipes are all hand made stainless steel.
STEVE: I think they’re the same diameter as the exhaust on my Ford Ranger.
TOM: Come on, let me show you something.
(We head across the shop and go outside. I’m trying to think how to segue from the Ducati to the Vespa as we stop in front of a Ducati 796 with a newly installed exhaust system. I can tell he’s passionate about motorcycles and what makes them tick.)
STEVE: So, what should riders be thinking about now that’s its spring. What should they be doing to get ready to ride?
TOM: Well, other than checking the air in their tires they should have done everything last fall when they stored their bike for the winter. This time of year I’m busy with carb cleaning and spark plug changes because gas was left in the motorcycle over the winter and when they started it up things got fouled.
STEVE: What do you suggest?
TOM: If you did leave the gas in all winter it would be a good idea to drain the float bowl before you try and start the motorcycle. Because once you try and burn that bad gas, well….
(I’m still trying to move the conversation towards the Vespa when it dawns on me that maybe Tom rides one himself!)
STEVE: What do you ride?
TOM: I have a SuperMoto conversion bike, a Honda XR650R liquid cooled Baja bike. (To some this bike is known as the biggest, baddest dirt bike ever) I put on Supermoto wheels, made it road legal, custom suspension, new bars and bar ends, lowered the front…
(I’m wondering what he must think of the scooter I’m riding. Just outside the shop door are a lot of Ducati motorcycles. BMWs, Triumphs, and Vespa scooter too. Just in case you need one.)
TOM: It’s the bike I always wanted; I like the dual sport, moto bikes. Sometimes I wish I would have waited for the Hypermotard but the one I have is great. Light, flickable. A SuperMoto bike is ideal for the kind of back roads we have here in central Pennsylvania.
(He’s putting a muffler on the Ducati and I’m looking around, searching for a way to bring up the Vespa.)
TOM: I can’t believe how many miles you put on your Vespa. Not many people do that.
(As if by magic my spine has straightened. I think I hear trumpets echoing in the distance.)
STEVE: It’s a good machine. It’s been pretty reliable.
TOM: You make sure it’s serviced properly. That makes a big difference.
STEVE: Yeah. You guys do a good job with it.
(And that’s how we ended the interview.)
I got to finally talk with one of the mechanics at Kissell Motorsports for more than a minute or two. When I was riding the BMW R100 GS last week Tom personally checked it out and provided his assessment of the bike – a big thumbs up. When I returned it he seemed as surprised as everyone else that I was going to remain a scooter rider.
Can't believe there are no motorcycles at work today. With the temperature near 50F I thought I would have trouble finding a parking space today. Once the days get warm only the early bird riders will find spaces here. Had to go look at my calendar to make sure there wasn't some big riding event somewhere that I missed.
Who's riding to work? Has the normal riding season started yet? Is it still too cold to ride?
Yesterday evening I stopped to inspect the artillery pieces that would be part of some Civil War event at the Pennsylvania Military Museum today. The light was nice, drew out the Canon G9 to create the quintessential Civil War Vespa image only to find the SD card was absent from the camera. Luckily the iPhone was in my pocket so I was able to satisfy my photographic hunger at some level.
It was just starting to rain so I hurried home to the warmth and protection afforded by middle class living.
This morning Junior and I visited the men huddled under a tent awning trying to stay warm and dry. Weather makes friends of the worst enemies because I saw Union and Confederate soldiers in that group. I asked how they keep their powder dry and was told the cannon charges were inside plastic bags and then wrapped in aluminum foil. With aluminum foil not being invented until 1910 and who knows when the first plastic bag appeared I wanted to ask a question. But Junior insisted we move on to the ball throwing part of the day.
He remains impervious to the rain, wind, and creeping cold that these kind of days deliver.
Anyways, I have been getting a lot of grief lately about passing on that 1988 BMW R100 GS. Some of it from myself too. One thing that comes up over and over is the limited capabilities of the Vespa. Having put over 30 thousand miles on modern Vespa scooters I can find only two limiting factors:
1. It is impossible to ravage the speed limits on the Interstate highway system. Just not enough power.
2. Stream crossing ability is limited.
3. Riding over big obstacles is problematic.
Other than that you can pretty much go anywhere and do anything that time, money, and skill will allow. And I won't go into the many other things a Vespa can accomplish that I don't ever see anyone on motorcycles doing around here.
I understand why people want big cushy bikes -- it makes things easier and more comfortable. And it allows you to compress distance when you have limited time. And specific machines can enable to to pursue certain kinds of performance if that's your goal.
Calgary photographer and Vespa rider Sergei Belski recently completed a 4400 mile trip on his GTS 250ie. Looks a lot like mine. And he travels light. Check out his site. He makes some nice riding pictures.
It's stuff like this that makes me smile a bit when guys pigeonhole the scooter as an "around town" thing. It's that kind of thought process that has them thinking a Harley 883 is a "girl's" bike or that anything less that 1000cc is underpowered. Exactly how much do these guys weigh?
So, just sitting here, eating, wasting time, watching the rain come down, and waxing philosophically about riding and adventure. Hell, I should gear up and go for a ride. We're only supposed to get another half inch of rain in the next hour or so.
How bad can it be? I've got those great German tires on the Vespa after all...
A couple days after seeing my Consumption Therapy and Moto-Porn post Craig Kissell told me he would be taking a BMW R100 GS on trade and it would have my name on it should I want to buy it. It seemed as if the universe was conspiring to have me become an owner of a BMW. Who am I to argue with fate?
I took the afternoon off from work and despite the rain decided I would have to take the BMW (cover your ears Mr. Riepe) Airhead for a ride. It had already passed the visual test. All that was left was the road test.
After Kissell Motorsports mechanic Tom Christensen went over the bike and made sure it was ready for the road I left the Vespa and headed out in a light mist. The bike was, well, amazing. Started easily, idled perfectly, sounded amazing, and shifted with ease. Sales Manager Nate Mattern said the transmission had been rebuilt and the circlip and other issues corrected. You could tell it was ready to hit the road and ride for a long way. After some experimenting with the brakes and controls I stopped on Skytop Mountain to make a picture.
The two aluminum side cases were sturdy and functional -- just like the rest of the motorcycle. I was completely impressed by the mechanical feel of the bike and the sense of purpose and capability. For a 1988 machine with 60K miles on it I would have thought I was riding a much newer motorcycle.
The BMW R100 GS is pretty. As a photographic subject I could make use of it on Scooter in the Sticks. It seemed like a natural partner for my Vespa and would lend itself to a new variety of riding. Or so I was trying to tell myself.
Standing near this church I wondered how often I would fill those sidecases and take a long trip. Or how often I would make use of the power and capabilities of the motorcycle. Didn't much like the answers I was coming up with.
On the highway the power of the big boxer engine is apparent. Even with the Metzler Enduro tires which were a tad too aggressive for a lot of pavement riding the bike was smooth and stable cruising at 70mph. And there was plenty of throttle left. If I had any concerns at all it would be the older brakes -- disc up front and drum on the rear -- I tested them on several high speed stops and while they worked well it's definitely not the same as modern braking systems. It would not let this stand between me and the BMW though.
In dirt, mud and gravel the R100 GS was perfectly comfortable. The bike feels heavy compared to the Vespa and takes a bit more manuevering to get around. It was about this point in the ride that I began to sense something wasn't quite right. Not with the bike. There was something amiss in regard to my riding needs.
In a flood of recognition the following realities presented themselves:
1. I ride to explore, look around, and take pictures. This occurs at generally slow speeds, without destinations or geographical goals, and entails endless stopping and starting. From this point of reference the BMW seemed like far more motorcycle than I needed. And it is not nearly as functional in making quick stops, parking on the road in a manner than won't cause problems.
2. The BMW would not be my first choice to ride to work. Man, I tried hard to rationalize around this one -- imagining all the times I would ride it to work. I couldn't. Bottom line -- the Vespa is just too damn functional for my 8 mile commute.
3. Last disappointing realization -- it would probably sit in the garage most of the time. This motorcycle is designed to travel. To ride. And ride far. Why else does it have a gigantic gas tank and all that luggage. Who was I kidding? My long rides are in the 200 - 300 mile range. That's scooter territory. It would almost be embarrassing to this noble steed to limit it to such short jaunts.
With my head hung low and feeling sad (Irrationally I still want the bike) I ride back to Kissell Motorsports to tell Craig and Nate I am not going to be joining the ranks of motorcycle riders. The BMW R100 GS is up for grabs now but others were waiting on my decision so I'm not sure how long it will last. Better call fast if you need it!
It could have been a classic pair. The temptation was strong but in the end I felt like Galadriel passing up the One Ring offered by Frodo. I passed the test and will now fade into the West.
There is always something positive that comes out of this events and this one was no exception. I learned something important -- I am not a scooter rider by accident. I ride a Vespa because it is the right machine for me. And if there is any purchases to be make it would more likely be to trade the GTS on another Vespa when the time comes.
On the way home I saw Kim making pictures. The Vespa is quiet and and I was able to stop and make this picture without her knowing I was there. When she turned around she made a picture.
*NOTE FROM KIM* Steve wants to believe this photo expresses my feelings about his machine which he described as "powerful and filled with machismo" but I am sorry to inform him: the dark feeling is related more to the experience of all of the cars and trucks bearing down on my ass while I was trying to make pictures of the weeping willows.
The last time I had seen Steve he was on his way to pick up a bumblebee. How peculiar? I figured the buzz didn't last very long. That silver Vespa was already back on the side of the road and he was smiling in a way that seemed like relief inside his big shiny spacesuit.
