Hooked
'05 NINJA 250 (in sick bay), '09 TMAX, '13 GTS300, '13 CITYCOM, '14 NINJA 650 ABS
Joined: UTC
Posts: 275 Location: San Fernando Valley, CA |
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Hooked
2009 Vespa GTS 250, 2005 Vespa PX 200
Joined: UTC
Posts: 116 Location: Roaming (Boston for now) |
UTC
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Dumptrucks and Tractor Pulls, still a Long Wade to Go. July 16 - 18, 2015.
The red eye flight back east was predictably punishing, exacerbating the soreness between my shoulder blades that rafting failed to banish, but there were two things I was very much looking forward in Pittsburgh: Jack was back, and I'd soon be reunited with my own bike! This goober again! My favorite way to and from the airport. Serenity is BACK! We immediately made tracks to Slagheap, but we'd caught Geoff at an off time and he wouldn't be in for another hour - a perfect opportunity to nap in a nearby park with Jack. I had the luxury of the entire day, since I'd be crashing in town with Eileen. When we pulled the tarp off my scooter in Geoff's shop, it was the same sense of relief I felt after Serenity had been at the Vespa SF shop for weeks. Here she was, so familiar, exactly how I left her. I felt like I was coming home. An oil change and a milkshake with Geoff and Jack at the local diner later, and we were on our way. Getting back on my bike after riding a spanking new 300 Super up and down the PCH, well... mine was broken in alright. The phrase 'well-churned butter' popped into my head, everything a little slippy, worn smooth, and soft in all the right places. Sure, the 300 Super might be all tight, shiny pickup and have more storage, and the ABS is a good idea (though I curse the traction control every time), but it seems when I ride other bikes it serves only to remind me how much I like my bike. I patted her headset, I would never trade you for a new 300, I whispered. Many good memories from this house. I wouldn't have imagined the next time I'd be here I'd be on a scooter. Thanks for the crash spot, Eileen! Jack and I stopped by the hometown of revered groundhog weather guru, Punxsutawney Phil. It was a little overcast, but we found some fun roads and rests following the Sinnamahoning. All too soon time to say farewell to Jack again. At the end of a full riding day playing in the forests (on one stretch, we went to bump fists in motion and had to grab the bars and swerve to avoid colliding, at another stop I went to pinch his nipple and he responded by jerking off my handlebar...good times, good times), I gave Jack the biggest hug and he turned northwest back to his hometown, Buffalo, NY. I would be meeting Tim again at his parent's place in his hometown, Horseheads, NY. The local convenience store is my best bet for a coffee shop, and also has something special... Fresh apple cider donuts! Set aside for Tim, or 'TJ' as he's known here. Tour of the land, and Tim Jr's dad, Tim Sr's, business. Epic dump truck action! For moving dirt and things. Family garden. We picked tomatoes, cucumbers, and broccoli for Tim to bring back to Carrie in Providence. One of the wings finally rusted and rattled off. Excursion to Watkins Glen. Touch eeet. Walking under a waterfall. This is what happens when we try to take nice photos. Iced coffee. It's difficult for me to rest, especially because after all this time I wanted to see Tim's home turf (c'mon, sitting in a car, that's totally resting from the bike). Swimwear on, we breezed by Watkins Glen with plans to go for a dip in Seneca Lake. It's the deepest lake in NY state, maintaining a near constant, chilling temperature 39 F (4 C), a fact I'm fairly certain Tim failed to mention. He managed a swim, but I think I made it about calf deep before deciding I wanted to keep all my fingers and toes for the ride to Lubec. Iced scooterist. Beer tasting at Horseheads Brewing across the street from the Wade home. Turning up some heat with Hot-Jala-Heim, my favorite beer here. A lone two-wheeler at the Wade household. There was still one piece of culture here I needed to experience before leaving: a tractor show! Snacks are required. Salt potatoes. Don't burn your mouth. You can see who the Wades support. Not to leave anyone out, I got a hat too! Attending my first tractor pull. The sled on the back steadily moves the weight forward, increasing drag until the front wheels of the tractor lift off and it can pull no further. Perusing lawn tractors after the show. A Giraffe (Tim) in its natural habitat. Summer isn't complete without a stop at the local ice cream stand. Astounding, they had lactose-free soft serve!!! Raspberry for me! We watched planes land between the hills from a swing set on the hill. Tim's mom stopped by a riverbed by one of Tim's dad's pick up points, to select some stones for her garden. I took the opportunity to find a nice round massage rock. The pain between my shoulder blades had only grown sharper since California, almost like a physical manifestation of the pressure I felt to check off my final corner. The ibuprofen flowed steadily just to function between the wincing. At night, I rolled the stone between the mattress and my knots, desperately trying to unravel what was probably bunched up anticipation for the full days of riding ahead. Can't leave without sampling the Wade stone ground wheat pancakes. Mmm closeup. A little bonus gas. Also one more tomato sandwich. These sandwiches are amazing! Tim got me hooked on these tomato sandwiches: still sun-warm garden tomatoes on white bread with mayonnaise, salt and pepper optional. I think they aren't nearly as good if it's not from their garden, though. Thanks again, Tim and parents! Thank you so much for your hospitality, Tim, Tim, and Mary Jane!
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Ossessionato
2015 GTS 300 Super (Melody: 2015-2021, RIP), 2022 GTS SuperTech (Thelonica; bit the dust 02-22-23)
Joined: UTC
Posts: 3925 Location: Asbury Park, NJ |
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Q: Whew...only you can dare dipping your toes in an ice-cold lake and still look good in the process. (Glad the rolling fist-bump &c worked out safely, although it sounds like someone was riding shirtless at the time?) Also glad to see you reunited with your 250: as I said before, I'm smitten with my 300, but when you've had a machine awhile and you've got it set up just so, it's practically a rolling soul mate.
And, lovely pics, as usual. Keep on keepin' on! (P.S. Hope the back feels better soon. I tweaked mine a bit last week, and have been using a MA Roller to loisen things up. Seems to be working.) ⚠️ Last edited by amateriat on UTC; edited 1 time
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You always put up a great read! Hoping that pain in your back gets resolved soon. Ride safe.
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Addicted
2019 Honda - The Monkey 2023 Honda - The Super Cub
Joined: UTC
Posts: 647 Location: Somerset England |
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Hooked
2009 Vespa GTS 250, 2005 Vespa PX 200
Joined: UTC
Posts: 116 Location: Roaming (Boston for now) |
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Scooters, Spiedies, and Blogging from the Adirondacks. July 19 - 21, 2015.
One of the silliest hobbies for a live-onboard scooterist must be rock collecting. However, I quickly regretted leaving my massage rock on Tim's dresser, as the pain in my shoulders showed no signs of responding to anything but the firm hand of Vitamin I. Oh well, I have scooterists to meet! HQ of Ithaca Scooter & Cycles, and the time-honored tradition of hanging out in a garage. Bernadette, fellow artist and Vespa rider, had reached out to me from her home in Binghamton, NY long ago when I first set off. Unfortunately, my route immediately took me south and away from NY state, but now over a year later, I finally got to pass through her neck of woods. We picked Ithaca Scooter & Cycles to meet (I could use some parts too). The vintage scooter community in the northeast is small and I poked around the garage with the owner, Anthony, reminiscing about rallies past until Bernadette and her scootering companion, Jim, arrived. The skies drizzled but we had falls to see! Ithaca is gorges, as they say. With endless options for stops to gaze at natural beauty, Jim and Bernadette huddled to discuss options. We eventually settled on a slightly shorter, relaxed route - score another point for slow travel. After all this time, there's still nothing as utterly pleasing as tearing around town in a little pack of scooters. Taughannock Falls. Hope I got the name right this time. Creeping on Ithaca Falls. Posing for scooter photos at bizarre, brightly colored planned neighborhood, Boiceville Cottages. The shorter route gave us time to drop by the Blind Tiger Pub and meet other local scooterists. With the itinerant drizzle, I was happy to let the afternoon expand in a pleasant blur of new people and ride talk at this homey bar. However, the evening was still young, and Bernadette had a special meal planned back at her home: spiedies! First, freshly picked grape tomatoes. I'm spoiled on these lately! Grilling spiedies from Bernadette's porch. Wine and meat and mushrooms and great company! Jim joined us for dinner, and we wholeheartedly embraced the custom of eating, drinking, and sharing life stories into the night. I peered at Bernadette's watercolor paintings with some envy - I would be fine if publishers never asked me for watercolor work, it's not a medium that inspires confidence in me. Bernadette has a subtle, trained eye, and plenty of travel stories of her own, as well as aspirations for extended scootering. Jim eventually retired, but we chatted on easily, the way you may imagine between two kindred spirits just meeting. My head was swimming with falls, scooterists, marinated meat, watercolors and wine before I admitted defeat to tiredness. From the safety of her tasteful studio/guest room, I couldn't help feeling like I wouldn't mind if I found myself something like her someday. Breakfast with a peek of the gorgeous view from her patio. Farewell, Bernadette! Bernadette also keeps a blog for art and travel, and has an entry about my visit. Thanks so much for sharing your fantastic slice of life with me, Bernadette! Back on the road, which is getting pretty. Riding up through Utica and into the Adirondacks, the air itself seemed to start smelling familiar. I've been through this land, I thought, though much earlier in my long distance riding career. After so many miles of constantly pushing boundaries, this was the beginning of finding myself in territory I was already familiar with. Really pretty. Amidst my fuzzy green nostalgic reverie, I had another scooterist-blogger to meet! Months ago, Jim Mandle and Davide Masse had reached out with a plan to set up a meeting of like-minded scooterists in the northeast. A lazy egg and other happy life circumstances intervened, so Jim and David met for a run around the Adirondacks on their own (see David's post here!) until I found myself in the region. We all have roughly the same class of Vespa, but compared to their daily mileage I seem to just crawl along. Anyhow, in spite of a minor coolant event, David had ridden down from Montreal and was waiting for me at the Adirondack Museum. Hi David! Rocking the shirt of another scooterist blogger, Bill Leuthold. Woa, a double charger setup. We browsed the museum, where this 'Vesper Model' was pointed out to us. Horsing around a bit. Hi, David. Fascinated by the tiny but luxurious bathrooms on the train at the museum. David shows me one the spot we were planning to have lunch with Jim, you might recognize it from his blog. What a view. Of course I climb the giant Adirondack chair. Long Lake with David. I was here nearly 2.5 years ago on an early scooter trip. We decide to wild camp by Horseshoe Lake. Along the way, David shows me Jim's favorite place in the park. Peaceful, except for the bugs. Watching swimmers tumble over the rocks on purpose. Hope the meal is adequate! Jim has a long history with the Adirondacks, so David roughly followed his lead in the role of 'local' guide. After pitching tents at a free primitive campground, we scooted unburdened to Jim's favorite spot in the park: a small tucked-away piece of land with a peaceful view of small falls. I carried a meal of cured meats from a Polish deli in Utica, cucumbers from Tim's family garden, leftover cheese from Bernadette, along with my usual cheese stock. From a perch on Jim's spot, David and I passed a tiny Swiss army knife between us to slice off bites, sharing a meal with someone we'd each only met a few hours ago. I was suddenly taken up in a wonderful feeling of convergence. Somehow, the inexplicable forces in the world seemed to have come together to put me in this exact time and place. It was almost as if I was sharing a meal with everyone who contributed in some way - Tim, Bernadette, Jim, even Matt who reminded me that Polish delis are awesome places to stop for snacks - and the meal with David was more delicious because of it. A past-self, a faraway person now, had struggled with acute bouts of loneliness and self-doubt setting out. Over time and distance, perhaps as more these moments revealed themselves, I found I rarely felt lonely anymore. I have come so far, I can't be grateful enough for this charmed life, I reflected, munching away. It's a beautiful feeling. So beautiful, it almost made me forget about the clouds of hungry biting insects intent on joining our dinner. David and I, both full disclosure urbanites, had forgotten to purchase bug repellent before our camp outing. It's also why I only had the tiniest Swiss army knife. After all this time, some things don't change. Anyway, we feasted to the backdrop of falling water and accomplishment between insect swatting, then scooted back to Mosquito Junction (as dubbed by David) to chat through the mesh of our respective tents. Being the brave outdoorsy person I'm not, I filled an empty water bottle with some whiskey Jack had given me, unzipped the mesh, and rolled it over to David's tent for pickup before quickly zipping the tent closed again. Thanks, Jack, for a little non-insectoid buzz at the convergence party. Honestly though, this is the kind of magic that keeps me going. Scooter camp is go. Bugs are intense, so we're in-tents. My kind of dessert! Thanks, Jack, for the scooter-sized whiskey. Peaceful view, shelter from the bugs, cue drifting off to sleep. Morning on Horseshoe Lake. The blood suckers don't seem to be awake/hungry yet. David brought a water heating device for tea or coffee! Having a campmate is great! A bit of exploring. I see why Jim likes it around here. Back in civilization! Or just in town. Over breakfast in Tupper Lake, David revealed to me this was only his second time scooter camping! I feel a bit guilty, like I tossed him in the deep end. It's the little things. Pete gave me a bottle of All Kleer back in SF, for happy visors. Convergence! Nice day for a ride. Parking scooters, taking photos. You know the drill. Say, are those gray clouds? Heya! Unlikely pair of scooterists tearing up Lake Placid, with Quebec and Rhode Island plates. Lake Placid is one of the larger villages in the Adirondacks, with a history hosting winter Olympics. We passed time with a snack and a chat with other motorcyclists who'd spotted us at breakfast, but there's nothing like full-time riding to make a rider check radar maps like a hypochondriac checks for lumps. Sure enough, I'd noticed an angry orange blob on radar moving directly across our intended route, but it appeared to be passing. My waterproofs had become less-than-waterproof over time, so when the drops started to fall I pulled over to tell David to put on his proper working rain gear and catch up to me at the next place I could find something resembling cover. David is testing his waterproof gear. I'm uh... testing my tarp. Video of the torrents on David's post. Might as well get the tools out and fix my loose left mirror while I'm waiting. My pants soaked up some rain and made for a chilly seat, but thankfully the squall was short and fierce and the worst passed while I was huddled under my tarp/groundcover. David reported staying nice and dry though, and seemed thoroughly impressed with my godlike weather prediction skill. Amateur meteorology: bonus hobby for people who learn to ride in New England (though let's be honest, you pack all the layers anyway). Back to a lovely day. The Burlington-Port Kent ferry arrives. Back to solo scootering soon. Until next time, David! I felt very dramatic waving goodbye to David as the ferry for Burlington pulled away, and even got a bit teary-eyed. We'd only just met and barely spent a couple days together, but there is something to be said for those you share the road with. You can read his accounts of our scootings on his blog in four parts, starting here, now part 2, the penultimate, and the finale. I enjoyed seeing his perspective on our shared miles! He did an interview of me a little later down the road, too. Peeking from between the cages on the...floating cage? I was back in Vermont! Burlington is a cozy college town, where you'd see a man with a delicately curled mustache playing guitar while coasting down the street on a skateboard. I might have stared a bit, because it was a pleasant but sudden change from the rustic charm of the Adirondacks. I actually encountered other motorcyclists there too. The fully luggaged F650GS rider who stared, mouth agape, as he passed my comparatively piecemeal loaded scooter at the stop light stands out in my memory. I raised my water bottle in salute. Vermont is killing me with lushness. Montpelier is a beautiful little state capital, one of my favorites. This sign at my AirBnb cracked me up. Cozy old New England charm. There are still adventures to be had, but that night I relished a burrito from the local place and rested in the privacy of a quaint, quiet room. Sometimes, you rush. Sometimes you sit back and let things unfold. After this rest, I was pushing for the easternmost point in the contiguous US: Lubec, ME. I felt if I didn't push now, I'd never reach it due to distraction. After so many miles, I'd come to realize (to my joy) I could circle the continent endlessly finding new things, meeting fascinating people, being pulled around by jobs, attending rallies, and following twisty roads. But for months now, I'd been feeling too full of experiences, and time expands oddly to fill the road. I'd finally arranged it so something of a final destination was in sight. I chased the end and feared it in equal parts, for the bittersweetness of completion that's necessary to proceed to the next thing, and the anxiety for whatever that may be. The knot of the unknown sat painfully and unrelentingly between my shoulder blades. Something had to be done. After Lubec, I'll have officially exploded the last semblance of framework in my life. I'm ready for it.
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Ossessionato
2015 GTS 300 Super (Melody: 2015-2021, RIP), 2022 GTS SuperTech (Thelonica; bit the dust 02-22-23)
Joined: UTC
Posts: 3925 Location: Asbury Park, NJ |
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Trains & scooters & camping, oh my!
And, goodness, this is as close to my turf as you seem to have gotten (moved from my native NYC across the river a year ago). Good to see you and the lovely blue scoot running 'round again. And, yes, your BBQ photos do induce involuntary salivating - tough to avoid.
Thanks again for the magnificent sharing. That "next thing" can't be all bad, can it? |
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Looks like she posted an update on her blog from her rides last Summer, which is nice to see as she took a spill on 16 Apr and has been recovering...
http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2016/05/scooters-spiedies-and-blogging-from.html#more The accident (3 pages of pics): http://snapwidget.com/v/1229741281478808001 Best wishes for a full & speedy recovery!! |
Ossessionato
2015 GTS 300 Super (Melody: 2015-2021, RIP), 2022 GTS SuperTech (Thelonica; bit the dust 02-22-23)
Joined: UTC
Posts: 3925 Location: Asbury Park, NJ |
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Nautiker: Thanks for this, just read the update.
Hoping she's okay. Looks like the PX took a nasty hit. |
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Hooked
2009 Vespa GTS 250, 2005 Vespa PX 200
Joined: UTC
Posts: 116 Location: Roaming (Boston for now) |
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Thanks for the good wishes, I am recovering steadily and grateful it wasn't worse - I mean, I must have been brain damaged before even starting this trip after all. I'm also catching up on posts from last summer, finally! Suffice to say, the blue scoot is still safely in storage in San Francisco. Black PX will hopefully get a new front fork (anyone with a donor Stella in the northeast?). And hopefully I'll get to wrap up the story of my four corners trip and then continue on to the next adventures!
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Hooked
2009 Vespa GTS 250, 2005 Vespa PX 200
Joined: UTC
Posts: 116 Location: Roaming (Boston for now) |
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Descent on Lubec. July 21 - 23, 2015.
New England is a creaky floorboards kind of place, home to history, turned wood furniture, quilts, and closets that make me wonder if monsters dwell within. There's something a little magical here, but it's a salty, old-world kind of magic. It's where a younger version of me first found romance, which I followed to break free from the inertia of New York City. It's where I first experienced anything close to a 'real' winter (and then proceeded to endure 7 iterations of it). It's where I learned to ride, and attended my first rally. It's coastline and woods and winter. Now that I was full of the tastes of the rest of the country, I'd come back, maybe in part to see if that magic still held. Indoor exploration of antique furniture: what was this tiny drawer intended for? Turning up the Vermont charm at AriBnb in Barre, VT. A sign in a field says this is Bath Bridge. I like poking around old bridges. At an enormous truck stop outside Woodsville, NH, a man dressed in flannel and white stubble (the prevailing style these parts) struck up conversation as I geared up. After the usual Where are you headed/Where have you been exchange, he revealed himself to be a native and expressed his love for his simple, rugged home. "When I want running water, I fill a pail and jog around the yard," he waxed on poetically. As we parted, he advised, "Take the next right after the Walmart, it's a road motorcyclists really love." Those damn understated New Englanders. I had no idea he'd just directed me to the Kancamagus Highway. The right turn put me on Lost River Road, which predictably followed a small, cheerful river that burbled like root beer. I took the opportunity to find a new massage rock. Hi, scoot. Finding the Kancamagus Highway by accident was like stumbling onto Cherohala Skyway by chance, but deeply forested instead of sweeping mountaintops. I was blissfully lost in good fortune and trees, and didn't take any photos. Back to mountains. The day was young, and soon the road bid farewell to the close embrace of forest and returned me to open mountainside. I remembered a peak I'd climbed in a car and cog train some years back: Mount Washington. New England's own record-holding mountain may not be known for height (6,288 feet above sea level is modest compared to the west, and I'd already scooted Mt Mitchell's 6,683 ft) but for extreme weather and early American tourism. I figured I'd make a go of the Auto Road while passing through, but was met with rude gatekeepers and layers of bureaucracy. Apparently some years back, an idiot rider cooked their disc brakes on the way down and either died or lived to sue, and since then only geared motorbikes were allowed to make the climb. I hung around the visitor's center parking lot for several minutes finding exceptions to this rule on my phone, and spoke to a few higher up who were overly concerned with the make of my vehicle somehow being exceptional rather than the driver not being an idiot ("Is it a Burgman?" was thrown around a lot, and I almost wanted to say "Yes"). Eventually, I would have had to await the judgement of my ability by one more higher up, who of course wouldn't be in until tomorrow. I think it was a relief to everyone at the toll center that the two-wheeled potential lawsuit decided she'd rather make it to Lubec on time than wait another day. After all, it was just something in the neighborhood. It does beg the question of why I'd want to climb a freezing, windy mountain at all, but why else would you have a bike except to go places? So here's some video from the observatory at the peak. It's pretty crazy up there. I was feeling slightly frazzled by my war against the gatekeepers, but getting back on the bike and riding fixes any bad mood. ADV host suggested checking out Cathedral Ledge, looming between the trees. Fantastic suggestion. Cathedral Ledge is a popular climbing spot. They're just training here, but it makes me miss climbing. I could do a whole tour of the country again, just going to climbing spots... Damn, that's only 6k on this Power Pure. Time to call all the local shops. Matt (BCCMatt) on ADV Tentspace texted to suggest to meet me at the Walmart in town. I've met countless awesome folk from all walks of life through the Tentspace signup, but was surprised when what appeared to be a teenager rolled up in a Forester. The goodness of hosts united by love of motorcycles has been proven to me time and time again, but I couldn't get a read on this lanky youth. He was friendly but said very little, except that he needed to pick up a laundry basket. In my experience, it's a boy's duty to be aloof or even obtuse for the teenage years, but I felt a little wary to be following one into the woods to stay overnight. He seemed at ease though, so I texted a few friends my location and reckoned I'd assess the situation as it unfolded. "There's an easy way to our house," (oh good, a house is a structure, 'our' hopefully implies parents and not a Boxcar Children setup?) "But there's a shortcut I like to take more. Do you like steep, twisty roads?" Matt asked before we set off. "Do I ride a bike? Yes!" Welcome to Hurricane Mountain Rd. Guess I got my steep grade riding after all, in spite of Mt Washington! A house indeed, up a long gravel drive to an enclave among the trees. Matt's lives with his dad, Tom. We try some beverages while dinner is being made. Fancy dinner setup in the woods. Of course, I had nothing to be nervous about. Matt's father, Tom, welcomed me in ("Did she like Hurricane Mountain Rd? I like her already!"). Over a spaghetti dinner, it was revealed how Matt found himself associated with the ADV crowd even though neither of them had bikes - Matt had a bike before, but now found a knack for photography at rallies and races. True to form, shortly after dinner he disappeared to his screens, to edit photos into the night. Not unsociable, just focused. Tom told me about the his family and the history of the county, how he moved to NH for the seasons, the climbing, cross country skiing, canoeing; "Granite in the summer, ice in the winter." His outdoorsmanship was inspiring even for my espresso-and-sushi bred blood and fed into my earlier fantasies of touring the country again, hitting climbing spots this time the way Jack goes to skate parks. There are so many ways to understand a land. In his kid's old room, I reflected on how Tom had built this timber frame home himself - how cool is that? I didn't grow up around work so tangible, which must explain why I hold such a wonderful romance for physical things and objects crafted by skilled hands. And let me tell you about flannel sheets. New England is where I first met flannel sheets, and I'm pretty sure that's why winter exists. I think I fell asleep next to my new massage rock. Thanks for sharing your home with me, Matt and Tom! Little historic buildings along the way. The road I took actually goes into Maine, then back into New Hampshire again by North Chatham. Now properly in Maine! I wish I could carry one. Logging and lakes dominated the scenery until Bangor, after which the landscape suddenly emptied of human activity entirely. I poked around some derelict summer rentals, but mostly I just rode and rode. The sweet smell of pine forest floor turned cold and picked up the tang of salt, filling my head with visions of the sea. It was exquisite, and pulled me forward like the proverbial carrot on a stick. Burrito and beer break in Bangor, ME, the last large-ish metropolitan stop for a while. Nobody here but this scooter. Miles and miles. A sign! I left a tiny drawing. Embarrassingly, I was so excited I think I have about 50 photos of my bike by the Lubec sign, and I hadn't even reached the easternmost point, West Quoddy Head. Lovely stretch of road to the lighthouse. I'm here! Totally here! Here, walking around, taking photos. The end is not the end... It's difficult to capture the entirety of my emotions as I pulled into the lot of the lighthouse - excitement, accomplishment, not to mention awe at the natural scenic beauty of a lovely day in Maine (I got lucky!). I knew that even though I'd reached the fourth corner, the journey wasn't over. Tomorrow, I'd get back on the bike and keep going, doing the same thing I was doing the day before. It's completely arbitrary when we decide to end a narrative just for the sake of narrative. Overwhelmingly, I felt free. I'd set out with a goal and framework and put myself out there. I put everything on the line, and doubted myself regularly. To my utter amazement and pleasant surprise, the world received me positively, and so many people pushed me along and helped me keep going. When I began I needed the structure of visiting the four extreme corners in the contiguous U.S. to give me direction. Pulling into Key West was marvelous, because I didn't know it was within me. By the time I found myself gunning for West Quoddy Head, I was already confident in arrival. 34,488 miles and nearly 15 months later, I'd found much more than four corners. Checking the last one off felt less like a finale, and more like a graduation: this sets me up for whatever is comes next! And moment later, West Quoddy Head is in my rear view. I have a B&B to check into before dark! Engine off in this shot. It seemed too fitting that a rainbow appeared as I rode back to town to fulfill my B&B reservation. In my happy reverie, I pulled over to take a photo. The road was narrow and somewhat traveled, so I left the bike on its side stand instead of center stand with the engine running, in case I needed to hop on for a quick getaway. I backed up for the shot, and went to adjust the handlebars...and accidentally tapped the throttle rocker. My bike shot out from under my hand, and landed on its left side a few feet away. So now that I've checked the easternmost point off my list, I can dump the bike, right? Thankfully, the damage was minimal: scraped left saddlebag, bent left brake lever, mirror knocked out of whack, and broken lock on Pelican case. Oh, and bruised ego, but I'm pretty sure that'll grow back. Tending to my ego at fancy Water Street Tavern & Inn. Going to celebrate by...fixing my bike. I nearly dumped it again in gravel pulling up to this picnic spot. Bald rear tire is bald. Lubec, ME may just be the epitome of adorable New England summering, and I found Water Street Tavern & Inn easily in the tiny town. The owners greeted me warmly and were excited about my story, showing me to the most luxurious room I'd ever booked for myself on this trip. The meals at the tavern below were beyond my price range, but I felt full enough on an earlier jerky bar and settled at the bar for a glass or two of red wine. I stuck out like a sore thumb among the more elderly clientele, but I didn't mind listening to their debates as to whether to sell their powerboat in Florida, or which parts of Italy were their favorite to vacation. I was taken in by the warmth of the wine, and the the view of the bay as the sun extinguished itself on the opposite horizon. The lap of luxury is full of smelly moto gear. I wouldn't have had the wisdom to set out looking for it, but somehow in all those miles I found something good for myself. ⚠️ Last edited by Quezzie on UTC; edited 1 time
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Glad you're on the mend
May be a bit early but have you got travel plans this summer? Elvis wants to know!
Jay |
Ossessionato
2015 GTS 300 Super (Melody: 2015-2021, RIP), 2022 GTS SuperTech (Thelonica; bit the dust 02-22-23)
Joined: UTC
Posts: 3925 Location: Asbury Park, NJ |
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Mending, and unbending
Ah, the romance (sometimes both kinds) of Maine: I've only known the place sporadically, but always found it enchanting in big and little ways. Still want to explore it properly, more thoroughly. as you clearly have.
Very good to hear of your mending, and hoping the scoot gets mended as well. Engrossing photos as usual! |
OP
Hooked
2009 Vespa GTS 250, 2005 Vespa PX 200
Joined: UTC
Posts: 116 Location: Roaming (Boston for now) |
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jblundon: I'm putting together summer travel plans, but it may be a light riding season without a bike of my own on the east coast. The PX isn't done for yet, but it looks like I won't be able to work on it until the end of June. There's another bike in the works in Boston though, and I'm planning to be in CA again in July to pick up Serenity.
Unfortunately, Amerivespa this year conflicts with friends getting married - sorry, I know you guys are putting on a good party! I'll make a blog post with my crazy July/Aug plans soon. I would like to return to Bandcamp, the NE rally, and Not Summit Point, but there are too many rallies (Ski's, Indian Summer, East Coast Classic...) and I've gotta work, rest, and fix some scooters sometime. |
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Hooked
2009 Vespa GTS 250, 2005 Vespa PX 200
Joined: UTC
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Ski's Shrimp Run, and What's Next. July 24 - 27, 2015.
The morning came too soon. I wished I could stay longer to celebrate, but life for this full-time scooterist is rarely easy. However, it's rarely dull, and often it's beautiful and fun. It was a new day, and I had many miles to cover for an appointment with a new rear tire in Brunswick, and a scooter rally in Topsham! The morning fog over the bay is a living creature. Morning view from Water Street Tavern & Inn. It was difficult to tear myself away from the luxury of crisp white sheets on a king size bed, but the pampering had worked some magic: the knot between my shoulder blades seemed to have released somewhat. As I emptied the room to load my bike, I looked over the big, now vacant space that I had spent a night. Fine, tasteful furniture and fabrics. A big bathroom and shower with endless hot water and lofty white towels. More couches, armchairs, and seating than I could find occasion to sit in. So many pillows that I immediately tossed on the ground (they're blocking the bed!). A flat screen TV that was entirely ignored in favor of staring out the window, lost in the colors of the bay changing with the sunrise. I knew I needed that night to take care of myself, to rest, recover, and pat myself on the back for finishing what I set out to do 15 months and a different person ago, but... the luxury seemed like such a waste for one night. The name of this blog started as a joke, when a friend called me a "50cc superhero" on my first scooter. When I acquired my 250cc ride, I upsized the name by extension, though any actual acts of superheroism were irreverent. Now, it struck me if I truly had a superpower it would be this: I'm willing to go without, for a long, long way. Packing up the bike to go, I can't get enough of this view. People have asked if I set off because I was fresh out of school (a natural transitional point), or was stuck in a dead end job (no, though it felt like it plenty), or if some sudden tragic event befell me (thankfully not). No, I cultivated a career, friends, hobbies, romantic interests. I'd played the good domestic game, assembled a comfortable nest, understood the value of a kitchen island - I owned a salad spinner. I was willing to give it all up to pursue... what is it I pursue? I never set out as a vacationer. Was I seeking a broader understanding of the world, its people, and my place in it? Was it so grandiose, or did I simply need to upset my life? What do you do when you realize what you're really, really good at is being uncomfortable? In a reflective mood, I finished loading my bike and punched in directions for Tri-Sports - the first thing to do was get my two-wheeled home a new rear tire. I may never understand the reason for so many pillows. Peaceful. I cast a wistful look out towards Canada before turning south. Even after I got a new tire, I had a work comittment coming up that required me to stay put for a while again. With accommodations in Portland, ME rising for the summer season, staying with friends in RI and MA was the natural choice. Canadian soil right across that bridge... For another time. The inn owner snapped this photo for me, and very endearingly offered to give me extra food for the road. Scoot was here. Apparently, in my emotional state the day before I'd completely missed the "Easternmost Point in the USA" plaque at West Quoddy, so I went back to poke around some more. Okay got it this time. There's something magnetic in the stone here too, my tiny scoot would stick. Somewhere headed down the coast in Maine. This part of Rt 1 is still new to me. Egg sandwich lunch break of cuteness. Tire time, at Tri-Sports in Brunswick! Memphis folks arrive for Ski's Shrimp Run. Good to see you again, Lettie and Jay! These badasses didn't blink at the forecast for the Friday Mystery Ride, just donned rain gear and hit the road. The ride chased some goats, and fog clung to the hills like cobwebs as the temps dropped with dusk. Camp scoot is go. Two years ago at the Maine Comics Arts Festival I spotted a poster advertising a scooter rally in Topsham, ME. I'd never heard of such a thing, so Ski's Shrimp Run 2013 became the first scooter rally I ever attended. I didn't know anyone and was outstandingly unprepared, but I was hooked. It seemed fitting to bookend an epic trip with the same rally, two years later. Time for the real party! Scooters assemble, rain or shine. I didn't pay attention to this passenger until later... This familiar bike parked at Sea Dog Brewing Co! I rode it for the CORSette smallframe race in 2014. Kyle is here! Ogre with his newly rebuilt dragon, Rhode Island represent! The sky is threatening as scooters alight in Richmond, ME. Beverages and company at The Old Goat. I came out and found this on my bike. There wasn't an official Furthest Ridden prize at this rally, but I'd heard rumors that the yellow Helix rider had an enormous stuffed red bear foisted upon him as the Furthest Ridden prize from a previous rally. He'd brought it to Ski's in hopes of passing it along, like an STD. "If that ends up on my bike, I'm burning it in the campfire," I made it plainly known. It's all well and good if you'll just shove it in your car and take it to your home where it'll live in the corner until the next rally, but every square inch of real estate on my bike was measured and valued. Subsequently, someone thought it would be funny to jam it onto my floorboard. Let's be real, we know who's responsible for this. It was Kyle (you may remember from the Las Vegas High Rollers rally). So that's how I showed up at the next stop. Lobster roll closeup, because Maine. By the next ride stop (lobster rolls!), I was ready to make the bear a sacrifice to the rally fire gods, until I spoke to the previous owner. A sweet older gentleman, he'd dressed the bear in a hi-vis vest for the ride to the rally in his passenger seat, and had named the bear Target. Great. My favorite view in any town. May as well enjoy my new riding buddy. I was really starting to stress about this giant bear as we approached camp and its imminent doom, because I knew the previous owner wanted it passed on. I'm glad someone volunteered to adopt it for their niece, rescuing it from a more fiery fate. I can only assume Target is living out it's days in a suburban Maine household as a trampoline for a small human child thing. Road ukulele back at camp. Saturday night shenanigans stayed relatively tame this year, perhaps since we were asked not to return to the other campground after what happened two years ago (campgrounds are so hoity-toity around here!). Just some fire and drinking with good folk. In a nostalgic daze, I admitted to John, another attendee of the inaugural rally, how nervous I'd felt showing up that first time. He was surprised, apparently I'd hidden it well. I suppose it always seems like everyone else knows what they're doing at these things. Good morning at camp scoot. After packing up on Sunday, Kyle caught up to me in Portland at The Holy Donut. We decided to wait for Novare Res to open at noon for one more road beer. As soon as the doors opened we sidled up to the bar and the bartender slid two coasters out. "I need something to help me drive to Boston today," Kyle announced. "So, something low proof, a session maybe?" "Something with coffee." I'm pretty sure he ended up with some ultra-malty coffee-porter beverage, versus my fizzy tart choice. Rally never dies here. Ultimate potato donut stop in Portland at The Holy Donut, now with a new downtown location. Hanging out with Tim and Jim at Zo's on the route south. Tim had driven from Rhode Island to share Rt 1 down with me, and we crossed paths just south of Portland. Along the way we rolled into Zo's place outside Wrentham, MA where Jim was tooling on his old Volvo. Many of these people I hadn't seen for months, or since I left RI. It felt like the band was getting back together. Tim took a photo as I crossed the state line back into RI. Is that what I look like?! I hadn't planned on finding myself in RI again, but it was great seeing friends I hadn't seen since leaving what felt like a lifetime ago. It was a welcome change to navigate by instinct instead of GPS. Now that the last framework of my life had been exploded, the question loomed larger: What do I do with my time on earth now? I was tired (more tired than I knew), the longest commitment I'd made to myself outside of formal education was behind me, and I had a work deadline coming up. Maybe Providence felt like just another stop on the road now, but it was a welcome respite to crash back at Tim's place while I figured that out. ⚠️ Last edited by Quezzie on UTC; edited 1 time
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Ossessionato
2015 GTS 300 Super (Melody: 2015-2021, RIP), 2022 GTS SuperTech (Thelonica; bit the dust 02-22-23)
Joined: UTC
Posts: 3925 Location: Asbury Park, NJ |
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That bear totally kills...
But seriously, Q, you don't want to ride with the bear in that position for long, because from a distance, well, there's no way to put this delicately...
On the matter of being really good at being uncomfortable...maybe you're feeling your best when you're just outside your comfort zone? That seems to be the mark of the itinerant traveler. |
OP
Hooked
2009 Vespa GTS 250, 2005 Vespa PX 200
Joined: UTC
Posts: 116 Location: Roaming (Boston for now) |
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Re: That bear totally kills...
amateriat wrote: But seriously, Q, you don't want to ride with the bear in that position for long, because from a distance, well, there's no way to put this delicately... :lol: On the matter of being really good at being uncomfortable...maybe you're feeling your best when you're just outside your comfort zone? That seems to be the mark of the itinerant traveler. I think much of travel is about being slightly beyond your comfort zone, and being open and vulnerable to the world. I just wouldn't have guessed at how hard it is to exist there over a long term! Right about now I'm ready to crawl into a shell for a month. For me, it's cyclical; sometimes, you're raring to get out there and throw yourself to the whims of the world. Then comes a period of recharging, when you're tired and withdrawn, more tired than I knew was possible. I'm only just now coming around to the pattern, after 2 years of nomadism.
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Rest. Recharge. Unwind. You know that whatever you do next will be just another step (one of many) on your journey. Good writing! "... fog clung to the hills like cobwebs ..." Excellent!
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Molto Verboso
BV200, P200E (2),V90 and now a Big Ruckus
Joined: UTC
Posts: 1667 Location: Mims, Florida USA |
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Molto Verboso
BV200, P200E (2),V90 and now a Big Ruckus
Joined: UTC
Posts: 1667 Location: Mims, Florida USA |
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Molto Verboso
Mia Dolce II 2017 GTV 300, Ragazzo Vespa 946, Il Pazzo BV 350, & Mia Dolce GTV 250 -sold-
Joined: UTC
Posts: 1730 Location: Oak Island NC |
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Molto Verboso
Mia Dolce II 2017 GTV 300, Ragazzo Vespa 946, Il Pazzo BV 350, & Mia Dolce GTV 250 -sold-
Joined: UTC
Posts: 1730 Location: Oak Island NC |
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If you're in the SE this summer and want o borrow a bike for a few weeks, just stop by. Fly to RDU or ILM or MYR and I'll come get you and you can ride away for a while.
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OP
Hooked
2009 Vespa GTS 250, 2005 Vespa PX 200
Joined: UTC
Posts: 116 Location: Roaming (Boston for now) |
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New England Again, the Adventure Continues. July 28 - October 4, 2015.
I was afraid that upon returning to Providence, I would find myself hugely changed against a static landscape. In truth, time does move differently on the road. The events of a few days easily expands to fill the space of what might otherwise be a month of fixed-location human experience. I'd been holding off travel fatigue for what felt like months, but I couldn't tell months apart anymore (I didn't experience seasons, only changing climates). I needed to let time stretch to fill itself, and was grateful Tim had room for me in his life in again. Rest, finish some paying work, get some regular exercise, hang out with friends, and figure out what's next. Conceptually, it sounded like a good plan. But New England still had some surprises for me. For the cliff notes version of this time period, I made a totally adequate and more concise post in October 2015 about my return to New England. For more photos and backstory, read on. I hate the feels. I never planned on moving back to RI, so I'd completely overlooked the possibility of even finding myself in Providence again for any stretch of time. I was worn out and emotionally unprepared to say the least. In going through photos, this one piece of graffiti in Brooklyn best sums up my return to the northeast. But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Return to the smallest state, 15 months later. Actually one of the first things I did was leave again, with Tim, for one of his favorite fairs in Troy, PA. It counts as 'resting' if I'm in a car! They raffle a cow?! Tim says this is how he grew up. So of course, I immediately took off with Tim to the Troy Fair.I've seen a lot of cows, but mostly in passing on the side of the road. Now that I've attended a fair... Up close cows are like big tent frames with lumpy bags strung between them and a rug tossed over it all. And they've got eyeballs the size of my fist. Who first thought of drinking what comes out of this swollen, veiny, pink bulge between a cow's legs?! Demolition derby is loud and amazing! Tim has taken it upon himself to round out my redneck education. Back in RI: UGHHHWAH. Unthinkable quantities of socks... I've had 4 pairs since I left. I think I had some image of myself prancing around Providence, wearing all my cute outfits from storage (now an enormous offsite walk-in closet!) and hanging out with old friends. Of course, when I was actually confronted with the unit I was crippled by anxiety over the sheer volume of old stuff I hadn't thought about since I left. As for hanging out with friends, most of them keep regular job hours during the day, like the good contributing members of society they are. Both of these added up to finding myself alone often, wrestling the ghosts of my former life and decisions about the future, feebly trying to take down a backlog of work. There's only so long you can illustrate SpongeBob before needing a break, and time alone without the road made it too easy for thoughts to stray towards anxiety-making. I made a point to rescue athletic gear from the unit, and picked up running again at the nearby Roger Williams Park Zoo. Some progress clearing things out. At least I can make home-cooked food again. Wednesday night means meeting up with the scooter folk at the Cable Car. Shout out to Black Grease Cycles, for lending me a lift for a bit of maintenance. Getting an education at the chimi trucks of southern Providence. My kungfu buddies (the other scooter owners) hang out at Seven Stars after Taichi in Lippitt Park on Saturday mornings. Field trip to one of my favorite museums, the Edward Gorey House, in Yarmouth Port halfway up the Cape. I admire people like Gorey, who can't help but unabashedly be themselves and let their weirdo flag fly. When Kyle mentioned he wanted to pick up his VBB from his parents' place on the Cape, I jumped to ask if he wanted company. I ended up riding him out there (new record for carrying a passenger 100+ miles!). It's a considerable haul, which meant it was a great excuse to see his friends in P-town and save the return trip for the next day. VBB acquired. I had only visited Provincetown once long ago, when first breaking in the GTS. It was March then, freezing and off season. It's a completely different place in the summer - a beautiful, glittering New England Bourbon Street. Drinks with new friends on beach decks against the sunset, wandering through shops selling Cape kitsch, and colorful people up all night... it was a fantastic blur. Or maybe that was the rum punch that Rob was about to hand to me, then pulled back and asked, "Do you like Bacardi 151?" "Er, not usually?" "Then you might want to do this." He stirred briskly with the straw, and then handed it to me. Also this happened. I don't have any un-incriminating photos of Kyle, Jess, or Rob from this excursion. So here's one that Kyle finds merely unflattering, to prove that it wasn't all rum punches. Just mostly. Oh late night pizza by the slice, curse my lactardation. Blue scooters in the morning. Provisions at Box Lunch before the return trip. You can barely see the VBB... Vespas got way bigger in 50 years. I believe this is the Missing Links, and it's glorious. Return to jogging after my weekend debauchery. A violent summer storm knocked a few things down for some bonus parkour. I should point out, I actually don't much like running. I picked it up because it's a form of exercise that travels well (only 'special' gear is a pair of good shoes and sports bra), and sometimes it's nice to use my body as something other than a vessel for food, drink, and scooting. Also, back to work on my temporary desk, Tim's dining table. Break for snacks. Scoot was here at this New England spread. Holy lobster roll. New England shack means frying everything in the ocean. Stage 2 Storage Scoot Out. Temps were still peaking in the 30s (Celsius), but I knew if I didn't make a plan fall would usher in the dreaded New England winter, and I was quite done with that. I needed to go south, and decided there wasn't a reason to keep holding on to things potentially another whole year. Through the local Couchsurfing discussion boards, I met a few CSers looking for tips on beer halls in town. Among them was John, who had just moved to Providence by bicycling from Seattle. He had only what he carried on his bicycle, which was enough to live on for the month he cycled. I offered to give him everything I was moving out of storage (most of my kitchen and misc), delivered by scoot. It was nice to be on the side that could provide things, after so long being on the side of accepting the kindness of strangers. He was still actually doing me the favor, helping to whittle my storage unit down to fit into a truck, eventually bound for storage in upstate NY with Tim's parents. This Wednesday, scooter people went to investigate a local rally destination. Heya, Wednesday night crew and roast beef sandwiches! Seeing good folks again at the Rally of Northern Regression (the NE Rally). 2/3 Pauls at the Stranglers tents. How many scooterists does it take to fix a speedo cable? Oh yeah, this is my second broken cable, worn through at the same place in the bend by the wheel. Gymkhanaaaa. And a pretty white Primavera that make an appearance many months later (spoiler alert). Be careful to catch the cable for the seat latch on reassembly, or you have to remove the glovebox again to lock your seat storage. Also I met this guy, Jeff! Through the Modern Vespa, another RI member reached out to me! Jeff (LC353) arrived on his ET2, and we planned a bit of sightseeing in his home state. First, a tour of Jeff's backyard in Glocester. There are stone walls, old house foundations, and this creepy well. Well, that's a bit of a drop. Gotta climb some old stones. On top of RI. The nice thing about the smallest state is how other things are scaled to match? Left a little note and poked around some geocaches. Jeff pauses to point out some wild grapes along the road. They were sweet-ish but had thick skin. Summer along the back roads of western RI. Jeff snapped this photo from his car, approaching Mount Hope. Conquering the bridge that gave me fear of bridges! Jeff insisted that I couldn't leave RI again without having mako in Newport. Along the way, I made a point to cross Mount Hope Bridge. In 2012, I'd barely had my Vespa a week and took it over Mount Hope, my first big bridge. If the suicide prevention sign wasn't unsettling enough, I managed to cross on a day with 50mph gust warnings. I was white knuckled the entire time, unsure whether it would be worse for my new bike and I to be blown off the side of the 2-lane bridge or into oncoming traffic. Of course I survived, but I had acquired quite the fear of big, peaky bridges (like the Sunshine Skyway in Florida, or the Ogdensburg-Prescott International Bridge, which is bonus 1.5 miles of grated steel). I was glad to find that thousands of miles had eased that anxiety, and I could enjoy the view from Mount Hope Bridge without acute mortal fear. Aw, personal growth. And there was a seafood feast to be had with Jeff, at Scales & Shells! Thanks so much, Jeff! Everything is so delicious...the feeding is good... Postcard-esque boat life in Newport, RI. Matt, former Providence resident and visitor in San Francisco last winter, had just moved into his own place in Bay Ridge. His new home had...let's say spartan furnishings. I offered him much of my furniture from storage, if he would come to Providence and haul it. Cue the Matt and Steph Providence revival tour! I heard Providence finally opened room-style karaoke at the fancy new Dean Hotel! CS John and MV Jeff also came along to produce blackmail material at Boombox. Providence late nights aren't complete without Olneyville NY System Wieners. Ground meat, onions, and celery salt on a hot dog. Don't argue. Other late night spot of choice is obviously the Poco Loco truck in front of Scurvy Dog. More work, on my own drafting table but transported to Bay Ridge. I joined Matt in the moving truck to Brooklyn to hang for a while, because the eating and drinking is fancy with this guy, and also... I wanted to give Brooklyn another chance. Matt and old friends aside, there were work reasons to find myself in NYC, and unlike RI, when it got cold I could reasonably still get around on public transit. It seems like I'm always trying to get around winter... Anyhow, we had posh places and dive bars to check out, plus some warehouse techno partying. Fancy eating... And less fancy eating. That is indeed a cheesy puff on frito cupcake. What have you done. Ah, yes. This photo, on the walk to das technos. Warehouse dwellers think they're so fucking artsy. I followed Matt to a bleeding edge party, but I'm an electronic music rube and ended up spending most of the evening climbing the nearby rooftops. My hands were black in the morning. Cooking at home, for a change. Killing breakfast. Also, my red couch lurks in the background. Some exercise between eating. The last time I walked the Brooklyn Bridge was during the 2003 blackout. Real life Neko Atsume in Matt's courtyard. Lisa sent me this article on Okonomi. Simple and pure delights, grilled, pickled, and mixed into rice. Bonus as a solo diner I got seated quickly, unheard of in hipster-land of restaurant lines. My new favorite Bay Ridge neighborhood bar, Lock Yard. It was great fun being back in town (I even met up with Wally visiting from Toronto!), but for whatever reasons it was clear Brooklyn didn't hold the same magic it did for me back when I was fresh from art school. As I boarded the bus back to Providence to be reunited with my waiting bike (thanks for holding it, Jim), it was resolved... I just have to keep moving. Fuck public transport - though not really, I wish mass transit was more common in this country - the best way to keep riding through winter is to not be someplace with bad winters, right? MIT glass pumpkin show. Because fall is coming. At the Rally of Northern Regression, I'd reconnected with Fred (I also stayed with his sister in Montana). He asked if I wanted to see Frank Turner with him in Boston. In fact, Frank Turner's song, The Road, was partly responsible for inspiring me to set out for the four corners of the US. Coincidentally, I was already planning to be in Boston for the Distinguished Gentlemen's Ride. Back in New England, I was finding reasons to be in Boston more. Hi, Fred! Distinguished Gentleman's Ride in Boston. I borrowed Kyle's Lambretta because I wanted to be like the cool vintage kids. Two years prior I attended the Boston DGR, not knowing what to expect. I found myself wedged-in shoulder to shoulder with sharply dressed men and cafe racers, neck deep in motor oil and cuff links. I kept checking my pulse, to make sure I hadn't died and gone to heaven. Distinguished bikes on a beautiful day. Distinguished Fred. Distinguished Kyle. Distinguished breakdown. Distinguished calling the tow truck. Just as I'd resolved to continue roaming, I was getting caught in Boston a lot. Bad weather kept me in town, then I decided to go rock climbing with Fred, then ramen with Fred, and checking out Fred's new Lambretta build... Who is this Fred guy? Extended stay in Boston. Guess I'll spy on freshly powder-coated parts for Aaron, for Fred's sweet custom blacked-out Lambretta. It seemed terribly unfair to have met someone I already knew but didn't have a chance to get to know until now. And now I wanted to, but I'd worked out a plan and the pieces were already in motion. In a few days, I'd haul down to Philly to hang out with Rich and Melissa, and see Anna Grechishkina's presentation. Then I'd continue down the coast to arrive just in time for Davide's wedding in Richmond, VA. After another Gudetama interlude in California by flight and Pete's bike, I'd return to RVA just in time for the Indian Summer Rally. Some rambling along the Outer Banks would ensue, then I'd ensconce myself in Atlanta for the winter months. Did I mention there was a plan? I was done with the northeast, reaffirmed in my nomadism, disinterested in long distance. And yet here and now I was staring down the barrel of possibly taking a new relationship on the road. How much of what I felt was just the usual intensity that comes with short-term exposure to the wandering life? But he embraced extended travel... So, I suppose in a way, here was a new road after all. Visiting friends I haven't seen in years! Jason gave me a tour of their awesome new home and studio in Lowell, MA, and did a quick video interview. Storage unit has emptied nicely, but still has a Totoro guardian and Tim, keeper of keys. A new sticker for RI from the farmers market at Lippitt. Thanks, Joe Jitsu! One last Wednesday night. Now that I found local scooter friends, I was reluctant to put distance between us. It was almost like I went around the country just to find people back where I started. I wondered if I'd met them sooner I might've stayed based in New England; typically when people fight complacency, they move to a different city, pick up a new hobby, or have children or something. In my heart I knew it was foolish thinking, my wanderlust and inability to do anything except to the extreme would have resulted in embarkation sooner or later. Now, more often than not I caught myself looking at acts of 'regular life' with the faraway sigh of a tourist. After all these miles, I actually did find a home: My bike. New scooter configuration! My pack grows in absurdity. I used to agonize over which shirts I'd bring, whether I had enough underwear, what gear was best for every temperature, and how to rainproof everything. Now I just throw some sets in a bag. No longer do I try to pack for all seasons and every eventuality, I've learned what road situations I loathe (the cold, mostly) so I pack adequately for that. Then I pack for what I know is ahead, and address changing needs as they arise. This time, I'm expecting cooler temps and two dress-up parties. The pack evolved to include silk/smartwool layers, 2 dresses with a pair of matching heels, a patterned scarf I missed wearing, and a ukulele simply because I found it in storage and enjoyed playing it again. When it rains, I'll find some plastic bags. If I need something, I may be able to borrow or buy things secondhand, cheap enough to get by. When I'm done using them, I'll ship or give them away. The rest... I'll figure it out as I go. See you back on the road.
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Ossessionato
2015 GTS 300 Super (Melody: 2015-2021, RIP), 2022 GTS SuperTech (Thelonica; bit the dust 02-22-23)
Joined: UTC
Posts: 3925 Location: Asbury Park, NJ |
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Hmm...
Q: You managed to waltz along the streets of my old haunt (Brooklyn...sigh) just as I'd left it for good, having skipped across the Hudson last year. I've watched the borough (hell, the whole city at large) lose its sweet edge over the last 25 years in the name of big money...but let's not get me started on that subject, save to say that the only things I miss about the place left well before I chose to.
And I do know a bit about lightening one's load to check out new environs. One thing that comes to mind is that unless you do this sort of thing frequently, i.e. every couple of years at least, it doesn't seem to get easier, no matter how many times you've done it in the past. Deep attachments to people (some deeper than others...), places, stuff - it's just hard, and I've been told I seem to have a greater sense of detachment than some. Really, it's more of a front than anything else. Also: From childhood until perhaps some forty-odd years ago, I had an ambivalent relationship with bridges...and that was merely as a passenger. I conquered this ambivalence not as a motorist, but as a cyclist, crossing bridges big and small from little bridges crossing the Gowanus in Brooklyn to the Verazzano Bridge connecting Brooklyn and Staten Island (only during the annual Five Boro Bike Tours - the Verazzano has no bike/ped access...thank you Mr. Robert Moses), to my life-long favorite, in spite of my phobia, the George Washington Bridge, which I crossed on many a weekend day-ride for the 65-mile round-trip between Manhattan's Upper West Side and Nyack, NY. Some bridges will always seem "friendlier" than others to me, but the reasoning is more based on the practical, rather than the irrational. Glad your ride is back together and rolling well. Actually have relatives in Atlanta (wasn't always the case), though for some reason haven't been tempted to visit - not feeling a strong draw there. Will be interested in your take. A good read, and great photos, yet again. Here's to (re)discovery for you! ⚠️ Last edited by amateriat on UTC; edited 1 time
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Used to have P150, GS180, P200, GTS300, and now GTS300HPE,
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Posts: 19 Location: Sunnvyale, Ca now Crowley, Texas. |
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Used to have P150, GS180, P200, GTS300, and now GTS300HPE,
Joined: UTC
Posts: 19 Location: Sunnvyale, Ca now Crowley, Texas. |
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nope
Joined: UTC
Posts: 817 Location: I'm going there, but I like it here, wherever this is. |
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From Glocester stone walls and the highest point in the state to AS220 and Scales & Shells, it was a great experience getting to hang out with you. I hope we can do it again sometime, there's plenty more on the menu.
Once I upgrade to a Vespa that'll keep up with you, I plan on hitting a few more highest points. |
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Hooked
2009 Vespa GTS 250, 2005 Vespa PX 200
Joined: UTC
Posts: 116 Location: Roaming (Boston for now) |
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Adventures in Philly, Wedding Crashing in Richmond. October 5-12, 2015.
I've sliced Connecticut east-west so many times, I already had a clear favorite route in mind: pass by the Scituate Reservoir, route 14 into CT, smaller roads (Machine Shop Hill Rd) aiming for CT-16. Once west of Hartford staying quite far south, I could decide how to proceed. It's my favorite for peaceful wooded roads, but also because friends live right at the intersection in Windham! Hello, David, and new feline members of the family. Barbara and David are illustrators. I met them through their son, Larson, from kungfu days in Providence. I dropped in unexpectedly, very glad they were home. I haven't seen these guys since the bike was red! David reminded to stop for K. LaMay's Steamed Cheeseburgers. Steamy closeup. I got mine with onions and cheese. None of that neon orange stuff here. They may look like the Maid-Rite sandwiches of Iowa, but they're unique to central CT. The custom patty tray holds in all the delicious meat juices as they steam, and it congeals perfectly between bread. Over steamed cheeseburgers, I chatted up another patron who actually recommended taking I-84 west. Interstate travel isn't my usual approach, but a bit further west the placement of the interstate blasted through several layers of rock, revealing cool diagonal striations on both sides of the road as you motor along. Bonus, I spotted a patch of green on the map and veered south after Danbury, CT for a gentle climb up to Bear Mountain State Park in New York state. Slipping back into the saddle was like exhaling after holding my breath, when it had been so long I forgot I'd been holding it in the first place. Still finding new views. Bear Mountain State Park. Oddly enough, I think my bike feels better fully packed. Maybe that's just what I'm most used to, and the way the bike's broken in now. It's so comfortable around tiny roads, the kind without painted lines, where I can feel the forest up close. I was glad I caught some of the first leaves changing colors in Connecticut, autumn is glorious in New England. I remembered there were parts of New Jersey that was horse country, instead of the industrial marsh outside of New York City. It was lovely to follow the curves of the Delaware River. The metal grated Frenchtown bridge didn't even phase me. I also love that when I'm tired of poking around I can take I-84, and the land opens up in turn with the throttle. Entire hillsides reveal their colors at once, brilliant swatches of reds and oranges, and city skylines rise like slate in the distance. Providence to Philly is practically an old affair now, but I still find new things. It's good to be back on the road. The first overnight was comfortable and low key at what I now dub the Rhodeside Ranch, in Montville, NJ: Jon Rhodes' quiet home and scooter stash. Fred made a guest appearance (yay!) en route to the Hershey Fall Meet and Not Summit Point 24, the latter of which both he and Rhodes would be attending but I would miss for Davide's wedding. Nevertheless, we admired his living room Heinkel Tourist (just like in I See By My Outfit!) and the local pub was attended. The next day, I managed to make what would normally be a 2-3 hour drive into a nearly 5 hour scenic ride. On purpose, because it was beautiful. I arrived at the Philly home of scooterists Rich and Melissa just in time to drag them along for Anna Grechishkina's presentation. Anna was back in the US holding a workshop on extended motorcycle travel. Many of her words resonated with me, especially about self doubt, and the pros and cons of solo travel. I've been asked whether I want to ride more internationally, and the answer is a resounding yes. In the back of my mind, North America was always something of a testing ground. It seems ridiculous now that I wanted to make sure that I liked this sort of thing, but at the time I needed the confidence that I could still work from the road without the additional tasks of handling visas, language barriers, importing vehicles, and currency exchange. It's a 34,488 mile baby step. What stuck with me from Anna's presentation wasn't just the logistics of overland travel (there are plenty of resources now), but the insight to break down the reasons to go. Asking yourself honestly what drives you to travel so extensively - especially solo, on what others may deem an improbable machine - and hearing someone else say that whatever those reasons are they're valid and acceptable, was hugely affirming. My reasons are different from hers, so my travel will be different. I didn't realize it, but often this is what I listen for hidden between words in interviews on Adventure Rider Radio. I'd like the next step to be overseas... but for now, I needed to take care of my bike/home. I followed Rich to the shop for bike maintenance time. Thanks for lending me a lift, Philadelphia Scooters! Old exhaust gasket on the right. Farewell, sounding like a tiny Harley. Since the muffler is off anyway, and Rich pointed me to some high-temp paint... Muffler is so quiet and black again. Back at the storefront, meat pies have appeared for lunch?! Thanks for being awesome, Sean, other Sean, Rich, and Dan! Seriously nicest guys you could find. Philadelphia Scooters glory shot. Headed out of town, this view of the Art Museum gave me warm fuzzy feelings because... ...it reminds me of my first long trip in 2012. It's so red! Back to the present: Pretty bikes outside Quaker City Motor Works, where I'm meeting Kenric. Time honored tradition of hanging out in the shop and poking around bikes. Kenric and I know a lot of the same people. Also, he wants to take an 80 year old motorcycle across the country. I think some parts are cast iron. Hi, Kenric! I bought my first scooter from Javaspeed. You know you have good friends when they let you dye your hair in their bathroom. I hope Rich and Melissa weren't too disappointed that half the time I was content to stay in - I had hair to retouch for the wedding, knitting gifts to finish, and pockets of my jacket to repair (thanks to Melissa's sewing supplies!). Not that I don't like exploring the Philly, but it was pretty great that they regularly cooked at home and we could just chill. We did venture out for Wednesday $3.50 burgers and half price drafts at Tattooed Mom! The upstairs is incredible. Back at QCMW, I returned to record a podcast with Kenric, aided by sugar high on Wishniak black cherry soda. Kenric and I had made plans to record a podcast for his blog, with whomever else was in - Leon, and James, a photographer. I'm much more comfortable writing than recording, but it was great hanging out and of course, the best stories came out when the tape wasn't rolling. I also meant to test ride that beautiful old Triumph pictured earlier, but I'd barely made it down the driveway when the power went out. Apparently, the headlamp had been left on too long, and the battery was dead. This was actually a bit of a relief to me, because although I told myself repeatedly that the rear brake and shift lever were swapped on this machine, once rolling my first instinct was to tap the wrong lever. Actually, my first instinct after pulling in the clutch was to twist the whole grip up, but that's another issue. Defeated by dead battery. Otherwise, what a sweet bike! Perfect sized. James took much better photos from the afternoon. My bike has never looked so badass. More of his work at fjamesconley.com. fjamesconley.com. Killer. Back in town, meeting gals from Anna's workshop for tacos. They're planning a South American trip, coooooool. Awesome to meet you, Kristen, Amanda, and Lauren! I said to make superhero poses. Super sweet old Hondas, fantastic tearing around town with them! Thanks again, Rich and Melissa! Rally with you next time. Say hi to Fred and Rhodes. Back in the day when I was shopping for a place to relocate, Philadelphia was near the top of my list. It has a good scooter scene, the city is big enough that there's plenty to do but still some affordable neighborhoods, it has history, it has good tacos... It's a little rough in places, but maybe I like that about it. But Rich and Melissa were rolling out to the NSP scooter party, and I was ready to roll out too. Watching them load the truck reminded me of bygone days working comics and art conventions, but with more camping gear and booze. Tall grasses and high water in the roads in Delaware. The road is all mine, so selfish and loving it. Met Jubal at bird watching tower. Lots of this scenery. Hi, colorful frand. Playing with my clip on iPhone macro lens. Great chatting with you about travel in the middle of nowhere, Jubal! I didn't get to go through this part of Delaware the first time south, so here we are... ...at Dogfish Head Brewery! Originally, an electric football table was repurposed for continuous hopping. Our tour guide assured us it hadn't been repurposed for other recreational uses, to his knowledge. Did I mention this was an adult tour? Giant robo arm for stacking kegs! It's a much bigger operation than I thought. The average ABV of all their beer is a powerful 9%...average. Strong and creative beverages, adult tours, my kind of place. Bulletproof wood for aging Palo Santo Marron. It's deceptively heavy. Tasty wine-beer for the tent. I stashed as many bottles as I could carry onboard (hooray for the Pelican!), which was fortunate because stop-and-go traffic at the casino hotel vacation complexes in Ocean City, MD left me exhausted. By Virginia I caved at one of those campgrounds that touts itself as 'family friendly' - that is to say, overpriced and full of screaming children who have been given too much sugar by their parents, who themselves have checked out behind a growing pile of cheap beer cans. At least I didn't care if I made noise too, and passed the evening cracking into my Sixty-One, texting Fred whenever the winds of cell service blew my way, and playing a solo tent concert in my underwear; my ukulele cover of The Road could use some work. I woke early the next morning to ride the remaining 149 miles to Richmond, crossing the fantastically long and flat Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel (it's like riding on the water, with wind roaring in my ears and seagull road-sky-kill to dodge!), arriving chilled but in time for Davide and Emmy's wedding ceremony. Wedding time in Richmond, VA! Accepting donations to the Davide and Emmy cause. Can you believe this guy is getting married? Also, the 7 Hills club trailer has appeared, scooter trash is here. Party dress #1, ready. I'd no sooner parked my bike in Donna's garage than I was whisked into the excited fray of wedding-prep. Also, my plus one arrived! Matt is down from Brooklyn. In weddings past, Matt had become established as my go-to plus one. He would invite me to the weddings of his friends that I didn't know and I would party and get dress up drunk, and in return I invited him to the weddings of my friends that he didn't know, to party and get dress up drunk. Charlie inspects the first of many, many bottles of Prosecco. Davide is Italian, after all. Instead of cake, Davide and Emmy went with pies, by Proper cupcake Co. Cute scootery details, delicious pies. Beautiful venue in an old bank. We turned the vault into the bar. Aww. Officiated by the amazing Chelsea, of Scoot Richmond. I don't know about you but this table is ready for cupcake. Dancing and incriminating photos happened. The true purpose of weddings. I swear something about two-wheeled travel, especially when it's chilly out, accelerates post-ride uptake of alcohol into the bloodstream. I suppose it could also be the absent minded sipping of Prosecco all afternoon while helping to set up. When all the ceremony and dancing was done, I used my last shred of energy to check the time from bed: it was barely 11pm. Davide's parents try my Vespa. The following days included scooting Matt to the bus station, cleaning up a regrettably exploded bottle of Noble Rot in my Pelican (dammit, not as vibration-proof as I hoped), and hanging out with other 7 Hills folk at Hardywood Park Craft Brewery. Now that wedding stress was past and I was in his locale, Davide suggested one more buddy ride for the season. This time, I followed him for the ride. Beemer and Vespa rides again! Like Bandcamps and Amerivespas past. Hollywood and Riverview Cemetery, Confederate memorials. We took the pretty roads south of the James River, to the ferry crossing. The weather warmed and turned beautiful while waiting for the Jamestown Ferry. The Italian points out pieces of U.S. history to the American who didn't grow up here. No ride is complete without pulled pork. Pierce's Pitt Bar-B-Que in Williamsburg, VA. Ketchup artist. Okay, now we can hop on VA-5 back into town. There was one more piece of Richmond life Davide wanted to share with me. His circle of friends call it Family Dinner: a Monday night habit of picking one of their homes to meet and cook and eat a big meal together. This Monday would be extra fancy because Davide's family was in town from Italy for the wedding. As someone who dines solo the bulk of the time and rarely has immediate family nearby, this act of adopted-big-family warmed my heart. Also, it warmed my belly, with pitchers of negroni and this pan of meat that's been marinating and slow cooking for two days. Donna is kitchen master here. If you could smell this photo, you'd understand why it took everything in me not to immediately dig in. Oh, my gourd, the table settings. The fanciest Family Dinner. Thanks for the ride to the airport! I'll be returning to Richmond later, but next stop is San Francisco, CA!
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Woowww! What a 12-hour shift that was! Very, VERY cool to get me through my workday in my favourite pastime, travel logs with heaps of pics during the intermittent gaps.
Your is the best I've read in ages, thank you. 8) Oh yeah, hope all and any injuries are a distant memory or soon to be (I didn't read about the accident stuff, sorry). The blue on your bike is almost the exact colour I'd picked out for a respray on a GTS (I'm still trying to resist......), and it looks great. Now I'll hafta thunk of something else........ Thanks again, safe riding. |
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Q: Your whilrwind touring gets ever more...whiirly?
Hadn't been to Philadelphia in ages, but visited earlier this year; I totally get the vibe you describe - as a recent ex-New Yorker, the feeling of intimate and laid-backness was ever more acute, and I could've seen myself living in some of the nabes there quite easily. However, I'm truly loving it where I am now (Asbury Park has much to recommend it). Dogfish Head? Made it through the tour? Envious. Yes, that blue Vespa of yours is looking badass, with the miles to prove it. Can't say I've been to anyone's wedding recently. Usually dread going, but once I'm there it's usually great (even though I was designated photographer roughly half of 'em). Looks like you had a ball...and, may I say you totally rocked that dress? And, yes, it's probably a Good Thing that otherwise-lovely old Triumph crapped out before you really got going on it. Never could get the hang of swapped shift/brake positions. It sounds like the wounds from the previous mishap(s) continue to heal. Keep on keepin' on...and reporting back. 8) |
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Love your posts and pics Quezzie......but don't see how you have the time to write them and send them, but thanks!!
Oh yeah, right shift Triumphs feel correct, if you started riding this way fried okra |
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fried okra wrote: Love your posts and pics Quezzie......but don't see how you have the time to write them and send them, but thanks!!
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More Lazy Egging, San Francisco to LA. October 13 - November 1, 2015.
Another elaborate logistical dance of airplanes, friends, work, and borrowing Pete's bike was about to go down - you know, the regular drill now. By the end of it, I believe I'd be responsible for about 3/4 of the mileage on Endy2. I count myself extraordinarily fortunate to be able to get to know the Pacific Coast Highway so well. All in the name of working for a lazy egg... Or just a great excuse to visit friends in California! Hello again, city. Pete picked me up at the airport as always, bike to plane to bike. Reacquainted with Endymion 2! On the list of things I wanted to take care of in town, Pete mentioned he knew a fantastic leather worker who could repair (read: replace) the pockets of my riding jacket that were ruined beyond my ability - to be expected after a couple years everyday use. It was a quick scoot to Johnson Leather on Polk, and they even gave me a loaner jacket while they worked on mine. I felt like an extra on a biker movie set for the 3 days I borrowed this jacket. Blogger Ivan of Scooter in the City caught up to me at Commonwealth. With so many familiar faces, being back in the city was a bit like coming home. Between catching up with friends like Lisa and Ivan, getting a haircut, repairing things, going for a jog up to Fort Point (mm, sea spray stinging my eyes and nose, but what a view), and making steak with Pete, of course we had another dog park birthday party to attend. We didn't throw this one, or get everyone wasted by 5pm like last time. Butt sniffin' chain. Butt hat. This is what I bring to the party. Hi there, BMW with a nice rack. Nice looking seat, too. Last day as Vespa easy rider, but I still have loaner spaceman helmet. Thanks as always, Pete! Face off at the shop for a few upgrades before Endy2's second 1000 mile roundtrip. Montage: Installed Pete's sweet shorty levers, gel solo seat for trial, and Piaggio's media center thingy for shit and gigs. Bonus, I got to keep the old levers to replace the one I bent in Lubec! The best way to install and test the Sena SMH10R is over tacos with Marco and Pete. Tearing up the outer edges of San Francisco with some Vespa folk: Pete, Marco, and Dale. Of course, a visit to Devil's Teeth when picking up the Great Highway. Egg bowl is awesome. The car next to us is setting up for hang gliding! It must be amazing to hang in the air in a place like this. Riding is pretty good for now, like floating through scenery. Remember the Cross Egypt Challenge gift certificate Matt won in raffle and gave me at Amerivespa (back in June)? It turned out I'd be working that weekend, so I passed it on to Pete. He was actually on his way to the airport a day before I headed south, and would return a day before I got back to SF - he'd be riding a rental across Egypt while I took his bike to LA, ha! I managed to catch the Mrzyk & Moriceau exhibit, Everything Butt, at Ratio 3, before I left and the show ended. I love their playfulness, simplicity, and whimsical eroticism. I first found their work through the music video for Look. Hee hee. Raina just moved to San Francisco, it was a happy chance to catch up with her. Long ago, I colored her best seller, Smile (see title page inside), and built her website. Part of the reason for installing a Sena on Pete's helmet was because this time I had a riding buddy to LA! Moose is an LA native and much of his family is still there, so he makes the haul all the time...on his custom yellow GTV. He wouldn't be able to ride the return leg with me, but I was excited to share the road south. Back the Vespa SF shop, Moose and I caught up with Mark before rolling out. Killing me as ever, California. Quiet pull off to hook my Sena to a spare battery pack. I'm not used to using an intercom, and forgot to charge it. Stop for firewood, because Moose has plans. In addition to being a GTV long haul rider, Moose is a food industry guy who recently got into cooking directly on fire. He wanted to see how much of his cook setup could travel by scoot. I'm only too happy to volunteer to be part of this test - free-camping off a quiet road with some jerky before crawling into my sleeping bag is one thing, but this is way tastier. A campground mixup meant I had to ride solo back into town for cash for the site, but it gave Moose time to set up his picnic-table kitchen. The fire was well on its way by the time I returned. I came back to some upbeat music, and Moose prepping by headlamp and water bottle cellphone flashlight. Fire! Charring halved Vidalia onions, whole acorn squash, Cambodian sausage, and a big ol' slab o'meat. Moose doesn't use tongs, just chef hands. Scooters glisten patiently in the firelight. I have never eaten so well at camp in my life. There's even a salad, with a simple lemon and olive oil dressing. How will I get by when Moose goes back to SF... Cerro Alto Campground in the morning. For so many miles, my helmet was a private, intimate space for internal wanderings and introspection, where no one judges my music or singing. With the Sena installed, it was jarring at first to have Moose's disembodied voice booming what felt like directly into my thoughts. However, it was extremely useful to be able to discuss routes on the fly, suggest lunch break options, or to share stories on boring stretches. It was like chatting with your friend in a car on a road trip, but you're both on your own bikes. Clearly, I'd been getting accustomed to the shared headspace when, along a quiet piece of desert, I heard Moose ahead of me go, "Gah!" Not moments later, I saw the enormous desert spider. It was at least the size of my hand, languidly crawling leg over leg across the road. It might have stood halfway up to my floorboard. Naturally, I swerved to avoid it. And filled the intercom with the girliest screaming. Whoops. Sena (and maybe I) redeemed herself, after taking CA-154 to soar over Cold Spring Canyon Arch Bridge. I remembered John (jdgretz) led me along some smaller, squiggly roads in this region, so I kept an eye out. On the map, I noticed a road full of switchbacks leading into Santa Barbara coming up on our right. At the press of the button, I asked Moose his opinion on switchbacks, and said to slow for the next turn. N San Marcos Road turned out to be a twisty, narrow, unpainted piece of pavement the drops you from Los Padres National Forest to sea level. There were no guard rails and no traffic, we passed only a few wealthy private residences that faced the sea. With no place to pull off and the crazily angled road demanding full attention as it spilled down the mountainside, I didn't take photos, but I promise you the view of Santa Barbara as you descend the mountain is fittingly phenomenal. Also, speaking of lunch, Moose knew of a taco place in town! La Super-Rica Taqueria in Santa Barbara, CA. Super fast all handmade tortillas. Tacos that could save the world. Last time, Neptune's Net was closed off due to a landslide. Temps climbed as we approached LA, layers were packed away. Sharing a fried sea-life snack with Moose. But wait we're not done eating! Once in LA, we met up with Moose's childhood friend and another GTS rider, Joe. The two of them were planning a Seattle trip, which meant Joe also had a Sena. We linked them up before riding to Shinsengumi in Torrance for yakitori dinner. So, the voices in my head are multiplying. Also, they're not always intelligible, which is how the keyword for, " Let's single file for lane sharing on the highway," became, "Tiramisu! Now!" Having intercoms for three riders had much the same chaos of herding cats, now given microphones. We made it with much hilarity, and they extended an invite for their Seattle trip. I can only imagine. Moose is in charge of all things food. Just trust him, it's better that way. This isn't even the beginning of the meat. I think Moose was concerned for my wellbeing because this time Tigra and I would be staying with my manager, who is vegan. Actually, about half the team is vegan. No worries, I'll be digesting this meat for days, like a snake. Seeing these bikes again! Mostly setting up on the first day. Moose is in town one more night, so I met him in Koreatown after work. I love how immersive the plazas are. He's clearly making a pre-emptive strike against veganism tonight. Also against sobriety. Bohae Bokbunjajoo is sort of like a cordial. Alright, time to work! New swag to hand out. Scooting under palm trees at Pan Pacific Park. Making poses. Tigra, Aisha, Damon, and I are making tacos at home tonight. Aisha also works as a vegan personal chef. Not complaining. Another day, another egg. Messing around taking photos with some fantastic murals around LA. Seriously, this is the funnest job. My coworkers make it awesome. Vegan Mexican feast. We donned the gear for a few night shots. Jumping for Mariachi Plaza. Mural hunting continued on my day off. Down the street from Groundwork Coffee. Blogging with coffee, almost caught up with daily drawings. Tsujita Tsukemen Ramen has a process that involves lime. With all this company, it felt fanciful that I found myself solo for dinner again. This being LA, my first thought was a ramen bar. Last time, this led me to fantastic spicy tonkatsu. This time, a Yelp search turned up Tsujita Tsukemen Ramen, something a bit different. The menu included instructions: Dip noodles into soup until 1/3 of noodles is eaten, squeeze lime over remaining noodles, and when noodles are finished you can add sour soup wari. It'd never crossed my mind that lime and ramen could be friends. Days off means laundry. Also, riding to Anaheim to meet this guy again! He's trying his first kombucha here. Paul and I met in Santa Fe and again in Colorado. Making faces at the camera. Versys and Vespa rides again! Paul took me to the Ortega Highway. Goofball. I could do this forever. Midweek on my day off I quietly turned 31, my second birthday on the road. I'd made plans to meet Paul, who had finished his moto trip after we parted ways in Colorado Springs and returned to Orange County. After a beautiful ride along the Ortega Highway, I crossed town again to catch John again for a pizza party with LA Bikers at Bas' place in Malibu. I rode 220 miles all over LA, some city, some mountain, listening to music in my helmet and spending time with friends old and new, to come back at the end of the day to FaceTime Fred from Aisha's air mattress. A perfect way to ring in another circle around this sun. Of course I get the unusual sausage at Wurstkuche, a short bridge hop from Aisha's. Blogging from Intelligentsia at Silver Lake. The Black Cat happy hour Cat Snack was tempting, but I went with clams in smoked oil. Such elegant extended birthday treats. Back to work, view from the support van today. A Vespa broke down on the first day and had to be dropped off for repair at the dealer. I'm hopping a ride in the van to pick up the repaired bike and rejoin the group. Vespa Sherman Oaks. They found an electrical short in the body. No one else was comfortable riding on their own to pick up the repaired bike from Sherman Oaks, so I had a sweet little solo ride through LA on a rogue Gudetama scooter. I joined up with the main group just in time for lunch at Lassens. Best job ever. Hi again, guys. The staff at Lassens all know us now. Best lunch spot for accommodating all our different diets. Making like the eggs in the heat. According to the warnings, LA was at risk of burning, flooding, and blowing away all on the same day. Not to be dramatic, or anything. What is that sign I see in the distance... Gudetama goes sightseeing. I'm feeling a bit proud of my fellow riders, I think they're enjoying the bikes. Heard it existed, had to try it. I think it would be better when drunk, I want more flavorful sauce. Packaging is cute though. An old Beijing highschool classmate, Kathy, lived and LA now and had reached out with an invite to a house Halloween party. I met her and her friends at their home as they prepped and we caught up, and they even loaned me a costume. Dork sided. I applied false eyelashes on another person for the first time ever. Level up? Mailman, mail order bride, Poison Ivy, and Riddler, ready to party. The house party is expectedly over the top. A scuba diver appeared in the pool later in the night. This face sums up everything about being at a Hollywood level costume party in a borrowed store-bought Vader outfit. Thanks for the party invite, Kathy (on the right)! There's something amazing about appearing at a party where I know no one, and have no intentions. Something liberating, something to the tune of I Give Zero Fucks. I'm not self-promoting or networking, which seems to be de facto in this entertainment town. I'm not a sexy version of anything or a clever twist on a standard; not seeking a hookup, nor to impress, which should be abundantly clear by the readymade oversized shirt under a leather jacket with a full mask. The whole effect is only amplified by alcohol, and no, I really don't know or care about most celebrities lives. At one point, a partygoer was making the rounds, "Vote for the best costume! Who has the best costume! Vote for the best costume here!" Having no skin in this game I was trying to duck away, and found it a bit obnoxious when he still foisted a ballot upon me. I looked him straight in the eye, crumpled the piece of paper in my hand, and shoved it whole into my mouth. I had a pretty good party. Less fantastic morning. Got back around 4am. We're all feeling a little rough towards the end of the gig. Gude-break. Big Gudetama fans in Little Tokyo. Oh, little egg scoot is growing up, ready for first service. Gudetama also hired lolita fashion models, who we linked up with for a photoshoot. So much cuteness! Handmade hair accessories. Cuteness overload. They've never seen the bikes, and we've never seen them. Much curiousness. We look like a dirty biker gang next to these pros. Another activation complete, farewell until next time, egg team. Goodnight, Gudetamas. Check off another round of Gudetama, time to take Pete's bike back north!
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Noticed that one of your upgrades was the Piaggio Multimedia thingy. What'd you think of it? Useful? Not worth the extra cash?
Been thinking about it for my 2015 GTS 300, but haven't really seen any real reviews of it yet. |
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2015 GTS 300 Super (Melody: 2015-2021, RIP), 2022 GTS SuperTech (Thelonica; bit the dust 02-22-23)
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That amazing coast caper...
Q: Quite an assortment of rides, adventures (including a bit o' work!), and, this time, so many tantalizing photos of food that I was starting to grit my teeth at you. (Well, except the ramen burger...I'd skip that, too, and I doubt any amount of alcohol would change my mind.) And, you manage to do all this with the most interesting folks, yet again. Alas, it sounds like the "musical scooters" things is only working just-okay with you, but you seemed to have fun regardless. Keep up the interesting fun here!
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