A New Yamaha Vino 125 in the Fleet

A new Yamaha Vino 125 joined our fleet of two scooters yesterday.  It stands outside Track 'N"Trail Inc. in State College, Pennsylvania, the local Honda, Yamaha and Suzuki dealer.  My daughter Hannah waits patiently for me to make my picture so we can move on home.  With traffic heavy at the end of the day I wasn't too worried about getting anywhere quickly.

Last night in State College, among some of the evening riders in the free parking motorcycle spaces. Some of you might be wondering how years of Vespa obsession gave way to the Vino.  Here's the story.

My youngest daughter Aleta moved back to State College from New York City.  With public transportation abundant she had no need to drive a car or ride a scooter.  Faced with the need to get around here a scooter seemed to her the more desirable option and I didn't disagree.

We began the search at Kissell Motorsports and she was attracted to a fine silver Vespa LX150 and a gleaming blue Vespa GTS250ie.  Had we stopped there it's likely we would have ridden away with the GTS.

But fate often intervenes.  At the first discussion of riding the scooter of note was the Honda Ruckus, a small, cool looking 49cc machine.  A visit to the Honda dealer (and subsequent calls to dealers throughout the region) revealed an absence of these little scooters anywhere.  Track 'N" Trail had a number of Yamaha Zuma scooters that looked pretty nice and one lone, raspberry colored Vino.  Aleta walked towards it grinning and the word, "Shiny" passed her lips.  It was the one.

It definitely has a lot of chrome compared to the Vespa scooters and it is shiny.  A quick deal on the scooter and I'll soon begin trying my hand as a scooter riding instructor.

I had to run into town last night and decided to take the Vino.  I was pleasantly surprised by it's handling and pep for a scooter with an engine half the size of my GTS.  Aleta will have no problem dealing with traffic in and around town and I'm certain I could ride this thing almost anywhere other than on the expressway.  And if I rode it long enough I would try it there as well.

The Vino starts as if by magic.  Press the starter button and the engine instantly runs -- almost as if it was already running and you just turned on the sound.  And it has a nice engine sound as well.

Did I say it was shiny?  I understand Yamaha is no longer importing these into the United States and instead it placing their hopes in the Zuma basket.  So we got a great deal on this little guy.

Aside from the obvious acceleration differences between the Vino and GTS the scooter runs through the sticks without complaint, cruising comfortably at 45mph.  On a flat straight section of road it could haul my 210 pound body at about 55mph.  Aleta should see better performance.

We'll start the instructor-student relationship next week and see how long it takes before Aleta suggests she doesn't need my help.

Out Standing in the Field

Drawing a deep breathe in the middle of a quiet field -- a simple pleasure costing no more than the time it takes to get there.  This morning, stepping carefully through a pasture normally inhabited by Quarter Horses and Angus cattle, I stand and take in the world.

Complaining to a friend how difficult I always found it to relax -- having tried yoga and meditation on and off through the year -- I've found it by way of the Vespa.  Regardless of what crap inhabits my head a ride clears away the noise and leaves me weightless.

Out standing in the field.

The narrow paths, seldom traveled roads and lanes, each offering up their own tapestry of experience.  If only for a few minutes.  It hardly matters anymore where I go or what I see.  The act of riding surfaces supreme.

What a fine day it is.

Seven Seconds

A flash of lightning and my mind immediately begins counting to seven -- the time it takes the associated sound to travel one mile.  I've been doing this for a long as I remember and apply it now as a tool to manage risk while riding home.

First trip to the scooter at the end of the day abandoned as I gazed at the blackening sky.  The iPhone displayed an angry orange line of storms approaching quickly and forcing a decision to return indoors.

An hour later, after the lightning and heavy winds it was time to ride home in a light rain with scatter rumbling and an occasional flash of electrical menace. The new windscreen does a surprisingly good job of keeping rain off my body, at least while in motion, and providing a small sense of weather protection.  Like the topcase before it the screen has proved a valuable investment.

Stopping at the grocery store I made this picture and posted to Twitter with the message "Necessary stop for groceries. #Vespa waits while lightning crackles overhead. #dumb".

The current count was 12 seconds.

Almost home, one last stop, one last questioning of the reasoning behind choosing to ride during inclement weather.  There is a rigor to it, a testing and questioning, "Are you made of stern stuff?".

Whatever the answer I arrive home satisfied.  And still counting.

Pistons and Pints v2.0

Parked the Vespa outside Ken Hull's moto hangout in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania last week for the second installment of Piston and Pints -- an eclectic gathering of riders from the area.  I was the first one there and was delighted after a ride from work with the road level temperature pushing triple digits to sit   on a couch and sip an ice cold lemonade.

My friend Paul Ruby arrived and made himself at home on an 80cc (?) Yamaha dirt bike.  Ken's garage is kind of cozy and reminds me again I need to clean mine up.  Maybe someday I'll entertain some sort of festive occasion myself.

Dave Dix and Ken Hull took advantage of the shelter from the sun, at least until it lowered in the sky and the temperature moderated a bit. Last time Dave showed up in a Honda C-RV.  This time he arrived on a 150cc Honda scooter.  He grudgingly admitted he liked the think but was also troubled that he liked it.  I'm sure the next time he'll show up with his BMW motorcycle.

There was a completely different collection of motorcycles present on this evening including this tall, big, goliath of a motorcycle -- the Yamaha Super Tenere (sorry Yamaha but I can't figure out how to put accents on the 'e's).  Billed as a motorcycle for intercontinental adventure I could see how one would feel the road has no limits.  At least until you find yourself on a little hiking trail.

The owner was a pleasant fellow though I didn't get to talk to him much.  He was the only one there who confessed to riding in the winter though his lower temperature limit was 35F.

I like the looks of the bike.

Ken like the looks of Paul's Ducati 1198 which always looks dazzling due to Paul's expertise with a soft cotton diaper.  There was a lengthy discussion of cleaning chains and the best method to keeping them looking all clean and shiny.  I seem to remember my eyes rolling back into my head about this point of the evening and wondering if I should clean the toilet when I get home or watch Rebus on Netflix.

While this was happening Ken was dropping subtle hints about how cool it would be to take the Ducati for a spin.  The conversation moved into the inevitable lies and prevarications about speeding down the highway on a motorcycle -- like fish stories -- except these were measured in miles per hour rather than pounds and inches.

I think 142 mph was the biggest number I heard.  For awhile I thought I might be able to pipe in that I once had the speedometer on the Vespa hitting 80.  I had to fold quickly though.

Ask anyone -- I don't do crowds.  Or events or group rides.  Something in my DNA makes me nervous when there are more than a handful of people around.  At least in social situations.  Work is a different story -- bring on the crowds.  Piston and Pints has been a pleasant surprise and I feel at home (even though I' the sole scooterist so far) among the motorcycle riders.  As a sign of respect and concern I warn the collective community to hold their ears before I ignite the engine on the Vespa.

Seriously though, it's kind of cool to listen to people who are extremely knowledgeable about their machines and have incredible recall of details about every part, process and procedure related to the mechanical and electrical workings of a motorcycle.  I'm hoping a comparable scooter type appears some evening in case I have some questions.

After two Piston and Pints events I have to judge Ken's riding event a qualified success.  If you live within easy riding distance of Boalsburg you should plan to stop by and say hello, tell some stories, make some friends.

Make a note:  Every 1st and 3rd Tuesday from 5pm to 8pm Ken will have the door open -- motorcycles, scooters, talk, refreshments.  A pleasant way to spend an evening.

The Need to Ride

I sat on the scooter at the end of the driveway this morning for five minutes trying to decide whether to go left or go right. I had no interest or desire to go anywhere in particular; just a pressing need to ride.

Somewhere.  Anywhere.  Just feel the wind and the world moving past, eyes growing full of scene after scene, color, texture, things and places.  A swirling mind slowly tamed into a focused, relaxed place.  Twenty minutes later I had passed over two ridge lines of the Appalachian Mountains and was wandering through lush forest growth and the occasional patch of rain from threatening skies.

Decisions led from one road to another, usually more isolated and less traveled, mind working on the road and little else.  A welcome, essential, necessary process for me.  I often wonder how many riders find solace in riding.  Many speak of recreation, camaraderie and adventure.  Few of solace.

The threat of rain never grew beyond moments of light rain.  Instead the temperature remained pleasant and the need to fight the glare of the sun was gone.  No stops for food or gas or water.  Just a relaxed movement ahead, on and on and then home again.

One hundred miles of recharge.  At least that's how it seemed.

It was a good day to ride.

Riding Temperature Sweet Spot

It's depressing to have five days off work and find the temperature so oppressive the thought of riding is only marginally better than cleaning the bathroom or mowing the grass.  The air-conditioned view out the window belies the riding situation -- the world today is outside my sweet spot.  I thrive between 50F and 70F.  Below is a challenge of planning and clothing.  Above is just an increasingly miserable torture.

I don't like the heat.  Standing in the field making this picture brought back memories of misery at the BMW International Rally last summer in Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania where I witnessed for the first time  riders and their bikes being hosed down with cold water lest they melt and die.

The forecast doesn't suggest a heat reduction until Sunday; an then only into the 80s.

It was so hot I was having trouble seeing at times when I stopped as sweat burned my eyes.  The verbascum plant reminds me of the hottest times of the summer standing tall like a torch when everything else seeking the solace of shade. The Vespa is usually a reliable cooling device.  Today, just a machine to increase the velocity of hot air burning away my will to live.

There's been a breeze that offers some release in the shade but little in the open.  And nothing to a rider.    Earlier in the afternoon I found the ambient temperature reading on the Vespa indicating 100F -- surely the heat reflected from the ground to the sensor; something I could verify while laying on the ground making this picture.  At least the Vespa is running well.

I see a lot of riders in this sort of weather.  I like to think they're riding like me -- short, quick trips to the store or the bank.  But I don't think so.  I've begun to think my riding temperature sweet spot just isn't well suited for summer.  

Maybe I'll feel different in the morning...

Meet Ken Hull -- Founder of Pistons and Pints

That's Ken Hull -- rider, artist, author, publisher and more -- greeting the man on the Ducati at the first Piston and Pints moto-gathering earlier this evening.  Hull's love of motorcycles and people came together at his moto-lounge behind the log house he calls home in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania.

Make a note:  Every 1st and 3rd Tuesday from 5pm to 8pm Ken will have the door open -- motorcycles, scooters, talk, refreshments.  A pleasant way to spend an evening.

Riders arrived despite the threat of rain which never materialized.   By the time I left there were a lot of bikes.  My Vespa stood only as the only scooter representative.

I'll apologize now for not writing down names to go with the pictures.  My memory is too leaky a vessel to rely on anymore.  So if I butcher your name or identity, well, use the comments to make corrections.  Or tell lies.

Aside from Ken's Sportster in the garage Eric arrived with the only other Harley.  I think he is standing there trying to decide why he doesn't have a Vespa instead of a Harley though he'll never admit it.

Ken's place is pretty nice -- couch, easy chairs, cooler full of things to drink, a few motorcycles and motorcycle art.  Makes me wonder why I don't have a couch in my garage.

Paul Ruby listened as an engineer with Honda Motor Corporation explained the finer points of his KTM's direct injection two-stroke engine.  Cool bike.

 Lots of motorcycle talk.  I think that Randy is on the left (foggy name recall) and the fellow on the left arrived on the red Ducati.  He and his wife race 125cc motorcycles -- he showed us a picture of them rounding a turn at Beaver Run Raceway in western Pennsylvania.  Can't recall his name at the moment.  I do remember he pulled a bottle of wine from his leather jacket.

A variety of machines were on display.  The fellow on the right had a nice X-moto style Husqvarana.

Inside the moto-lounge.  I really do need to clean up my garage.  No room for anyone to hang out at my place.

Dave Dix, owner of Dix Honda in State College, Pennsylvania on left talks with Paul Ruby.  Dave apologized for not riding to the event and instead showing up in a Honda CR-V.  "Work related." he said.  Next time he'll be on his BMW.

Nice Honda Reflex.  Reminded me of the kind of bikes I loved as a kid.

Honda engineer and Paul Ruby (electrical engineer) talking motorcycles.  I think.

Ken put together a good time for the first Pistons and Pints event.  As word spreads I bet the crowd will grow along with the variety of stories and bikes.

As I was getting ready to leave Ken was putting on a trials exhibition on his Yamaha Mini-Trail 80.  I kept picturing a bear riding it for some reason.

Thanks Ken for a great evening.

Piston and Pints -- a Boalsburg Biker Event

Piston and Pints -- a local biker get together -- will have it's first get together Tuesday evening, July 3, from 5 to 8pm in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania (location details below). 


I use the term biker loosely to encompass anyone on a motorized, two-wheeled conveyance -- Harley, Triumph, Vespa, moped, etc.  Not sure what to expect but I'm anxious to find out what a non-commercial biker event is like.  And it will be a recurring event every first and third Tuesday of the month.  So if you miss tomorrow there will be other chances.

If you're in or around State College, Pennsylvania maybe you'll want to take a ride.  This Google Map will show directions or plug the address below into your GPS:

203 East Main Street
Boalsburg, PA 16827

Ken's Moto Shack and Lounge is behind that address -- the corner of Academy Street and Rockeys Alley.

Paying Attention as the World Rushes By

I've begun to look more closely at the tools I carry in a small nylon bag under the seat of the Vespa -- the right socket to remove a clamp, the correct extension to afford easy access to a bolt, an Allen wrench that will allow removal of the front wheel.  Little things that spell the difference between an indefinite halt in progress or a seamless repair and return to the road.  Spread across the driveway I wonder how much time I'll have to spend with them before feeling mechanically comfortable if not competent.  Embracing this new discipline shines a light on personality shortcomings -- things like patience, perseverance and laziness.

Standing along the road in the freshly graded roadbed, grinding the soles of my boots into the fine limestone recalled the thrill of new clod-hoppers as a kid and the rush to get them dirty, see how they would perform in every dirty, dusty place I could find.  Almost everything about riding (and moments passed along the road) brings a rush of well-being -- physical, mental and emotional.  Regardless of circumstance or location the energy turns up the corners of my mouth and sends me to somewhere good.  For me at least.

The weather has been idyllic of late.  Last Saturday morning was bright, cool and unfolded to give the most routine of rides an utterly unfettered, seemingly effortless quality of freedom -- or something closely related.  The weight of living is stripped away long enough to see why I'm here, standing on the earth.  No small gift and reliably delivered for years now by a scooter.

No long ride this day.  Just a trip to breakfast on the other side of the valley -- just a 15 mile ride.  I was surprised to see my daughter standing in the parking lot talking on the phone.  She arrived by bicycle training for an upcoming race of irrational distance but did stay to take in some carbs before moving on.  I used to ride a bicycle.  It never delivered what I was after:

Flying -- the world rushing by, eyes forward, wondering what's ahead... 

Back on the Road -- Almost

Put the exhaust back on the scooter last night.  Had to use an automobile style clamp until the Piaggio replacement clamp arrives at Kissell Motorsports.  A ten minute idle in the driveway started the curing process for the high temperature paint.  A while later I took to the road, the first time since early May.

Surprised me how good it felt to ride again.  It's easy to go back to sleep and forget.  I feel sad for all the people locked in their cages.  And by choice.  Didn't ride far, just far enough to remember.

All's not perfect though.  The temporary clamp doesn't completely seal the muffler to the header pipe -- I can feel a bit of exhaust gas leaking along with an engine sound that isn't the normal, quiet sound I like.  This weekend I'll see if I can fix that.  Don't want to fall victim to an unfortunate burn through of essential components -- the gas gets pretty hot and there are more than a few stories circulating in the Vespa world about bearing failures and damage.

Still, I may sneak some short, slow rides.  And stay off the higher speed tracks of the freeway...

When You Find You've Meandered from the Riding Life...

The rusted, hulking Vespa exhaust sits on the driveway like an overturned tortoise, sad and useless.  A more direct examination reveals the toll of salt and winter sludge on metal.  When questioned by other riders about the challenge of being on the road in cold weather this is the picture I describe.

Routine means a wire brush and bottle of Naval Jelly to prepare for a new coat of high temperature enamel.  Working away at the rust had me wishing I would have taken the air compressor and sandblaster my father offered me.  Working on machines has a way of triggering memories and regrets.

Jack Riepe advised I send the thing to Jet-Hot for a new ceramic coating.  I'm stubborn though and it would require a change in plans.  I did send an email and received a prompt reply -- $80 plus shipping.  A good price.  An excellent price in fact.  My auto mechanic told me yesterday he uses them to coat the exhaust system of his Lotus race car.  Plenty of evidence was available to support the Jet-Hot course.  But in the end I picked up a can of Rustoleum.

My father would have fixed the Vespa in a day.  Less actually.  And here I am stuck in a mental traffic jam making the simplest things seem impossible.  Add to that a lot of tasks, projects and activities that divert time and energy.  I was sitting in a U-Haul Cargo Van on the approach to the George Washington Bridge in New York when I made this picture.  Traffic moved at a glacial pace as I pondered the wisdom of lane-splitting for motorcycles and scooters.  Aleta and I were making a one day trip to Astoria to pack some things and return home.

If you ever want to test your age make a long drive, spend seven hours packing and carrying boxes from a third floor walk-up, and then drive home again.

The weather today was perfect for spray painting. A patina of rust gave way to a hiding coat of flat black enamel.  Not as nice as the Jet-Hot coating would be but good enough to keep me on the road another year.

The instructions on the can say I need to bake the muffler.  Won't fit in the oven so I'll have to do it tomorrow on the vehicle.  Awaiting the arrival of a new stainless steel exhaust clamp from Kissell Motorsports so I'll have to use a conventional steel auto clamp temporarily.  Makes me a bit nervous.  I know what "temporarily" can mean.

Driving around Queens, New York in a downpour looking for a parking space is an adventure.  Along Ditmars Boulevard I saw a Vespa LX150 parked in the middle of the street.  Damn scooter riders do whatever they want.  Didn't think I could park the U-Haul in the middle of the street.

Wasn't sure I was up to a long ride home after all the packing and moving but the road can be mesmerizing.  By the time we crossed through the Delaware River Gap I found a second level of energy.  A stop at a rest area later that night for 30 minutes sleep recharged my old batteries and I surprised myself when I pulled into our driveway at 2:30am.

I started wondering if I could do an Iron Butt Saddlesore 1000 ride on the Vespa.  But only for a minute.  Good sense won out as I floated into bed.

I dreamed of riding...