Group Ride - Eureka!

Does this Vespa make me look awesome?

A sunny Saturday and nothing to do - except a group ride to Eureka!

Vespa of the Ozarks hosted a group scooter ride to Eureka Springs, Arkansas. We rallied at their shop and after a few introductions - 13 Vespa's and Piaggio's took to the streets. Experienced riders and brand-new bikers mixed with classic all-metal models and more modern/more plastic versions of the Vespa legacy on a route coveted by riders across the country.

Having 8,ooo miles on the odometer, I was honored to be asked to be the "sweeper" bike for the group. It didn't hurt that the BV sports a 250 engine, pretty fast for this class of bike. A sweeper stays at the rear of the group to ensure that everyone stays together.

Our group wasn't the only gathering ready to enjoy an early summer Saturday. Not one block into the trip we met a true motorcycle gang at a four-way stop in Rogers brick town. Their sweeper rode into the middle of the intersection and blocked traffic until several dozen bikers rode through. This was my first group ride and I wasn't so dashing.

Life is a journey, not a destination. - Emerson

The quieter, more fuel efficient Vespa's, caught Highway 12 East connecting to 127 and then 23 North, a little less than 40 miles. Scenic, slower, safer, yet misses the grandiose curves of the Ozarks if we'd taken 62. That's for another ride.

The first "omg omg omg, I can't believe how fun AND beautiful this is..." moment came with the HWY 12 bridge spanning Beaver Lake. This drops you into the Hobbs State Park and Conservation area which hosts it's share of curvy roads and beautiful scenery. The air felt clean and invigorating with the smell of the forest pines and the dips in temperature in the shaded valleys we'd glide through. I have to say, riding a motorcyle/scooter has to be the closest thing to what flying must be like that I can think of.

The group stopped at an abandoned gas station that rests in the Y in the road where we'd turn to avoid as much traffic as possible. We had become several smaller groups and the stop let us reconnect and talk about the dipstick pulling a horse trailer that wasn't satisfied with doing the speed limit and insisted on staying too close to the back tires of one of our groups. What goes around, I suppose.

The forest tapered into farmland where every other barn was a dilapidated postcard waiting to happen. One barn that was still in operation was painted blue. With almost every barn I've seen being red, I couldn't help but think "what a non-conformist!" The blue did go better with the big sky behind it.

The next stop was an open gas station right outside of Eureka. We were all pretty excited, knowing that we were almost there. Hungry, too. Lunch was the first item on the agenda when we arrived...

...at the Lovin' Oven. Yeah. Despite it's name, it was actually great. Italian food served up in generous portions and fair prices in a clean atmosphere. It's in the shopping center next to the Hart's grocery shopping center.

As you can imagine, we weren't the only group touring Eureka on a beautiful Saturday. We saw a Miata group, Plymouth Prowler group, a couple Ferrari's, and LOTS of motorcycles.

The scooters had to represent, so we cruised the historic downtown and up the hill to the Crescent Hotel and back down again. It was fun to see how almost every head turned to watch the procession. People were compelled to point at the MP3's in the group, with their two-wheeled front axles. An older man on a new Vespa was parking his bike as we went by. He motioned the classic "blow your horn" as you would a trucker and I obliged.

I could have made a few more laps but cruising that slow in the summer kicks on the cooling fan. So, a few riders stayed to spend some time in Eureka and the rest of us headed back.

Unfortunately, we did see a sport bike wreck. He was up and moving but his brand new bike was in pieces. We stopped at the abandoned gas station and another biker from his group pulled in and asked us for some Tylenol. One of our scooter enthusiasts is a nurse and had some handy. The sport bike rider reported that his friend was going to be okay but was just going too fast.

I learned from Leonard that the average time a new sport bike is laid over (wrecked) is less than two weeks. Apparently, that's why the insurance is sky high. Sport bikes tend to be more engine than you need and if you've never ridden anything, that twist n' go action puts you in the ditch, quick.

Leonard asked if I'd like to switch to lead for the rest of the way. I didn't mind. From what I've read, the least experienced lead to keep the pace of the group together but I didn't say anything. I kept my speed at 45 mph but still lost all but the other BV rider. No worries though. We all arrived at the shop within minutes.

Overall, a terrific Saturday at the cost of less than a gallon of gas. I can't wait for the next one.

Barron Fork Creek

Last weekend offered a 180 mile round-trip excursion to Barron Fork Creek, just east of Tahlequah, Oklahoma. A neighboring Oklahoma aquarium club invited our Arkansas club to join them on a collecting trip.


Collecting involves using dip nets and seines to collect native fish suitable for the home aquarium. "Regular" fisherman refer to this as "bait fishing". To read more about what we collected, visit my fish blog - Wet Socks.

The only collecting equipment I own is a bait bucket, a cooler, and some river shoes. Since I didn't have a net to transport I opted to take the trip on the Beverly. It also gave me a chance to try out the saddle bags I bought at a yard sale last summer.

Scooter fuel costs estimate out at 180 mi/70 mpg = 2.5 ga x $1.95 = $5

vs.

Truck fuel cost at 180 mi/19 mpg = 9.5 ga x $1.95 = $18.52
(read: ready for summer fuel prices?)

I could have taken the major highways and made better time. But why would I do that when I could take the scenic route and enjoy my Saturday on the bike? The trip into Oklahoma was 90 miles of hills, curves, and small town intersections. Can one feel more alive?

Granted, the trip began before sunrise. (Dark = not ideal) It was raining. (Not the safest.) And patches of intermittent fog. (Who do I think I am?) I had checked the radar before I left and determined/hoped that I was riding south west as the tail end of the storm was headed north east and I would find myself in good riding weather just after a stop for breakfast at Braum's.

Fortunately the weather cooperated but not before a final cloudburst soaked through my jacket. This is the first time that the jacket didn't keep me dry but it was a significant amount of rain in a matter of minutes. With the temp at 48F and the wet jacket/shirt I started to get chilled when I crossed the Arkansas/Oklahoma line.

Three small towns later I found an open Dairy Bar in Wellsville. The full parking lot at this early hour reinforced my suspicion that it was the only place open for miles. I did my best to put on a polite poker face to contain my smile before I opened the door.

I knew what I was getting into. I knew I would open the door to a small town cafe full of over-all's, coffee, and Coppenhagen. (not that there's anything wrong with that.) And I would would be sporting a flourescent yellow riding jacket and black leather chaps coming off a scooter with a bait bucket strapped to it during an early morning rain in Regularville, USA.

They were polite. I ordered coffee. I warmed my hands on the cup that was sponsored by the local mechanic, school, and bank. The memorabilia on the wall suggested the Dairy Bar had been open since the fifties. I was disappointed that the Dairy Bar had nothing more dairy than regular milk and they were disappointed that I wasn't ordering breakfast. I enjoyed the coffee, or more so the warmth it gave me and drank in the conversations between farmers.

I paid the tab and tipped well (which I did spitefully. Can't a guy just order coffee?). In the parking lot a couple of paramedics were getting out of an ambulance and they asked me a couple questions about the bike. One of the drivers said he was getting one. I couldn't help but think "I hope I haven't just met the folks that will scrape me off the highway. That would be creepy."

Dark and morbid I know, but those kind of thoughts keep me from getting too comfortable. I told a new rider yesterday that there's nothing more dangerous than the illusion of comfort. That goes for driving a car, too.

Warmed up, I got back on the road which was now the final miles of the Cherokee Trail of Tears. It's good to see acknowledgement of what was done but so horrifying that it happened. The names of the towns and creeks I passed through reflected the Native American influence.

The terrain is beautiful. I had noticed during my pre-trip planning that I would be traveling through forest. I was surprised at the significant ice storm damage of the trees that lasted for miles and miles. It doesn't seem to be catastrophic and I take comfort in knowing that even this is part of the rhythms of Nature.


Barron Fork Creek is a part of the Illinois River drainage. The collection site was an appropriate end to a journey through wooded hills and valleys. The collecting was fun. I ratchet-strapped the now full cooler to the back seat, made the "flight plan" call home and saddled up.

With more pleasant conditions and dried out gear the return trip was much more enjoyable. I thought to myself "This is why I pushed through this morning." The same trip in the truck would have been nice, but not nearly the same experience.

I stopped at the Trail of Tears Trading Post I had passed on the way in. I picked up a handmade necklace for my squaw and a postcard sized painting created by a local artist. It caught my eye and when I looked at the title "Crossing Barron Fork Creek" I had to get it.

Two locals drifted in and asked me "Is that a bait bucket on that bike?"

I said "yes sir, that cooler's full of bait fish."

"We're goin' on up to try for some crappie."

"Good luck."

They smiled and moved on. I heard one of them say "See, I told you he was fishing with that bike. I bet he's got a collapsible pole in one 'em saddle bags."

The trip was great. I never would have thought that one day I would be wearing chaps, walking out of a trading post and putting dry goods into my saddle bags. What a life. It reminds me of a line from a song -

"If you hold on tight to what you think is your thing, you may find you're missing all the rest." - Best of What's Around by the Dave Matthews Band.

End of Winter Riding?

Don't let the snowfall fool you. It was 65F two days ago.

Why is the bike outside? Why did I ride in freezing temps this week?

The Saturn had an intake gasket vacuum leak that kept the rpm's in the 4000's. We had to put it in the shop. That put me riding at sunrise and sunset. The first couple mornings were right at freezing. The chaps work well. I still believe that a scarf is the most warming piece of riding gear. All wrapped up, freezing really is comfortable.


Despite my recent "mid" winter ride, the Bev didn't want to start up. Thanks to Jose for turning me on to a trickle charger. Worked like a charm, after I stopped in to Vespa to ask how to find the battery.

So why aren't we parked here?


Well, I busted the garage door. There was a 1/2" gap on one side that I tried to repair with weatherstripping. This raised the other side a 1/2". I thought I could loosen the door cables to level it all out. It did.

Then I decided I could replace the frayed cable on the opposite side. Loosening this cable released the spring tension.

I was surprised that it's impossible to lift a 16' wooden door without power assist. Too bad the vehicles were still in the garage. I spent six hours using blocks and a car jack raising the door. Just before the door was high enough to clear the truck I tried to move the truck into place.

The truck got away from me and smashed the bottom wooden panel. Now it wouldn't go up or down. I had to disassemble the door mid-raise. A week later, the wife and re-assembled the door in the down position to keep heat and our possessions in the garage.

A new door is ordered. Until then, the vehicles are parked outside, snow and all...

Mid-Winter Ride

I know, it's been a long time since I posted. It's winter and I've had the Bev garaged. Despite having a ravaging ice storm a week ago, we saw temps in the mid-60's today. A buddy in Bella Vista wanted me to swing by so I took the opportunity to take the cover off the 250 and fire it up.

It started right up and I let it run for about ten minutes. I took it slow through the neighborhood, wearing helmet, jacket, and gloves. Completely comfortable. When I got to the highway, a simple twist of the wrist got me up to 55 like it was nothing. That's when a rush of memory reminded me why I ride.

I guess it's a good thing I bought some new chaps yesterday. They're made from real buffalo, so you know it's good. I still have my "armor" pants, but they smell like smoke from the fire, I "aired" them out through a rain spell or two, and when I wear them to work I have to take them off in front of everyone. It's like, "please continue with your business meeting while I remove my pants and shoes in front of you." Granted, I have khaki's on underneath, but it's still awkward.

What better solution than to stroll in wearing black leather, ass-less chaps! They zip right off quickly without having to remove my shoes or "change" in front of folks. I got them at the "Motorcyle Enthusiast" shop in Gateway for an even $100. They don't have knee pads, but they will reduce the wind on my legs, stretching my riding season on both ends. Man, do I miss it.

The sun rise/set is slowly inching it's way to providing light for my work commute. January has NWA's historically coldest temps so we're on the upswing.

Best of Show

Best of Show, 1st Place, Scooter

The 2008 Cancer Challenge was to be a Poker Run, but with the rain, the wife and I decided not to ride. The alternative entry was to "show" the bike. I had "speed shined" it the day before so I decided "what the heck."


I couldn't stay for the judging, so my friend and co-worker- Tom, surprised me with the trophy in a meeting. Thanks for the "major award"!

(*it may or may not be relevant that the BV was the only Scooter entry.)

Moving Day

I started my birthday early with one last sunrise ride on Y City Road. Two Mennonite women wearing flower print dresses met me on bicycles on their way into Gentry. An early morning flight passed low over head on takeoff.

In Rogers, I rented a 15' truck and drove the Beverly into the bay. I practiced my sailing knots by securing the bike to the side rails for transport.

I gingerly drove the mammoth machine I had rented to Home Depot to pick up a washing machine, ladder, and reel mower for the new house. (Another link broken in our dependence on foreign oil.)

Moments after the clerk helped me load the truck the sky opened up with an inch of rain in a half hour. No time to lose, I pushed ahead in the driving rain, taking the big beast and my lack of experience onto the expressway.

Arriving wet, but on time, we closed on our first home at 10:30 am. With the deal done, I needed to set off bug bombs two towns north in my new home. Knowing that the rental truck guzzled six miles a gallon, I un-tethered the 70 mpg Beverly and had her pose for the intro photo.

I rode down the ramp like a rockstar and scooted my way to my new home and back. Just before I got back to the truck, I noticed the left lane had come to stop for no apparent reason. As I got closer to the first stopped car the driver motioned under his vehicle. A dog had parked himself under the car and in traffic. I pulled onto the shoulder and walked to the scene wearing full yellow jacket and helmet.

Now both lanes were stopped and backed up as far as I could see. My attention turned to the dog who was panicked out of it's head but not moving for anyone. I asked the driver if he had any food. He didn't, so I told him to slowly move forward and I would signal if he was going to hit the dog.

An old, frail woman came running from her car yelling "Food, I've got food." What she meant was pork rinds and she started throwing them at the dog. Unphased, the dog sat psychotically as the old woman pelted it with pork rinds.

I talked her away from the truck and cued the driver to move ahead. This terrified the senior citizen but the driver and I, along with two lanes of traffic, had a connection - move the dog. Just as the driver cleared the dog another elderly woman ran as best she could with dog leash in hand. Recognizing the owner, the dog hurried to her. I escorted the two ladies off of the roadway and quickly made my way to the bike.

I pulled into the slowly stirring traffic expecting people to be upset about how long this fiasco played out. The digit I met, however, was thumbs up. It was a long line and each thumb seemed to cue the next as I passed by. What a freaking birthday.

Back on track at the truck, I loaded the BV back up and moved on to the mattress store and storage buildings to max out the payload. At the new house, I didn't have the same off loading space I'd had before, so I decided to wheel the scooter backwards down the ramp.

The ramp wasn't much wider than the scooter, so my yoga classes started to pay off. Focus. Balance. Control your breathing. I won't unload a scooter like that again. All in all, great trip. The Beverly has the garage she deserves and won't have a daily dirt road drive.

Mile 4000

With our current living arrangements, I'm riding more than ever. 45 miles a day, give or take a bug or two. At times, it seems taxing, riding about an hour twice a day. But then I think to myself, is it the ride or the time spent commuting?

It's the time spent commuting. On the days I do take the car, I'm missing the Beverly before I get where I'm going. The heat is just now starting to kick in. The mornings aren't bad, they're actually still quite cool. When lunch arrives the sun has irradiated the asphalt that holds it's heat well into the evening ride.

The turtles have slowed down crossing the road. Riding at night becomes an unavoidable frog massacre. The dogs have chilled out. They may bark, but they don't get off the porch anymore.

So, mile 4,000? 5K if you count the Met'. I have to say, I love it. The scooter is in the shop right now getting serviced. The fuel filter was cracked and leaked fuel, the seat latch wasn't closing, and the throttle was sticking a bit. Not bad considering the daily grind we go through.

The Bev has become a work horse for me, faithfully serving me in the circumstances in our life right now. Increased commutes, rising fuel prices, et al.

Here's to the next 5,ooo!

Right Tool for the Right Job

My daily commute starts and ends with a half mile of dirt road. Every rain spell runs the ruts closer to carving new rivers into what some call a road. I haven't seen a grater since I've been here. Gravel, rocks, et al, however, have not been the most troublesome obstacles getting to and from work. It's the dags. (Snatch, anyone?)

The neighborhood pack of dogs has four large and two smaller dags. I tolerated their twice daily swarm until they got confident enough to get close enough for a boot to the head.

The protocol for dogs is usually to slow down until the dog sets it's pace and then speed away when he lunges. That's fine with one dog on a paved road. Remember, I'm driving around in a rock quarry here with a pack of country dogs out to prove who's most brave.

So, I dusted off the air pistol and loaded it up with BB's. The next morning when I came riding through the usual run two of the usual offenders came running up. The smaller dog caught up to me first and shooting left-handed on a moving scooter turning right on a rocky dirt road I hit the little guy three times. The first BB hit him on the shoulder and he instantly turned to run away and I bounced two more shots off his little ass as he dived for the ditch. The larger dog was confused enough with what was going on to stop his pursuit.

On the way home the two Retrievers came full sprint out of their yard when they saw me coming, dog smiles and all. Again, when they were close enough, I let copper fly. The closest dog yelped and they both stopped chasing me. As I rode away I heard their owner calling them home.

Before you call PETA on me, keep in mind that the BB's don't break the skin. I've actually shot myself with this gun before and while it stings it's not as permanent as my .357.

Fair Weather Riding

This week has been a week of weather for me. Starting last Sunday, I was returning from an overnight trip to Oklahoma to fight the wind sweepin' down the plains. Keeping the jacket zipped up was a must.

Monday was a situation that I didn't have any other but to take the scooter to work, in the heaviest downpour I've ridden in yet. With the gear, I stayed fairly dry, but I did end up with Wet Socks. (Ha, personal joke, that's the name of my fish blog.) The heavy rain isn't as difficult as winds over 25mph.

Tuesday was FOG. Heavy, unrelenting, fog. Fog is now my least favorite riding condition. I had to wipe my faceshield literally every 30 seconds. Visibility is reduced anyway and there were several drivers with no headlights. I'm really considering becoming a traffic cop.

Speaking of, I saw several bikes yesterday running maneuvers through a huge cone track. I rode up to ask what was going on, and it was the Sheriff's office training motorcycle cops.

At least twice a week, a stranger will approach me and say "We'll all be riding those this time next year!" I smile, answer their questions and point them to Vespa of the Ozarks.

The photo is motorcycle parking at the world's largest company. The BMW bike in front of mine has a cool sticker - One Less Car.

Word.

Fire

Long story short - my neighbor burned our duplex down. We're okay.

We've relocated to Gentry with my Grandparents for now, which means a lot more scooting. The blogs have fallen on the immediate priority list and probably will as we continue to work things out. I look forward to getting things stable enough to post regularly again.

Ironically, we were taking the above picture of a random yellow fire hydrant in a random field of yellow flowers while our house was burning down. Ha.

Eureka!

As a graduation gift, I took my wife to Eureka Springs, AR. We took the scoot. The road to Eureka is infamous for it's hills and curves and is a popular biker destination.


I detached the trunk on the BV and ratchet strapped the dog carrier down. The strap being rated at 1500 pounds, I thought we were playing it safe using it to secure a ten pound dog. I bungee cabled our overnight bag to the top of the pet taxi.

About five miles into the trip and at 55 mph, we see the whole shooting match go rolling off the back. I quickly decelerated and had the wife get off the bike. I spun the 250 around and ran it up on the carrier. We pulled everything off to the shoulder and opened the pet door. The dog came out wagging his tail as if nothing had happened!

So, what did happen? After I checked the dog's eyes/ears/nose/mouth for blood and his body for tender spots and found him okay, I found the brand new ratchet strap broken in two. I was having trouble swallowing a simple break in this situation. A couple days later, I realized I had threaded the strap inside the carrier for more stability. The dog may have been digging at it and a small nick under pressure may have caused the failure.

Now we were roadside without a strap to put everything back on the bike. Fortunately we had put the dog in his harness for shorter rides once we were in Eureka. The harness clips to a jacket strap and the dog gets zipped up into my wife's coat.

So, we stowed the pet carrier behind a tree just outside Pea Ridge National Park and came back for it a few days later. While we were hiding the box, a car comes creeping up what could very well be his own driveway and rolls down his window to talk to us. He introduces his lap dog - Moxy, a King Charles Cavalier. The dogs meet and he drives on, unaware or without care to what we were doing.

The rest of the trip was a blast. We stayed in a jacuzzi suite, ate authentic italian, and visited all our favorite hot spots. Eureka is a town known for it's eccentricity and we caught some of it in the midtown park that featured live music and chinese acrobats.

The curvy, hilly roads make for great riding and the downtown area is perfect for scooting, but unlike most areas that offer preferred parking for bikes, Eureka charges everyone for parking. In fact, we paid more for parking than we did in fuel!

The health food store clerk gave us a tip for the ride home that led us over Beaver Dam, seen in the picture above. All in all, a great trip and we can't wait to take the next one!

My wife took the dog to the vet and he's okay.

Rainy Days

With the current car situation we both needed transportation, rain or shine. Severe thunderstorms in the forecast, I removed the winter liner from my riding pants and saddled up. No rain on the way in, a little bit on the way home. The gear keeps me surprisingly dry.

Despite the situation, I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the ride. Even though riding in the rain is exponentially more hazardous, I love it. I fought off a strong urge to go exploring in the rain and settled for an extra lap around the neighborhood.

Scary Stuff

Yesterday morning brought the phone call you always have in the back of your mind but usually dismiss as paranoia. My wife was in an accident and was calling from the scene. Fortunately, she just has to wear a neck brace for a few days.

I drove the Saturn rather quickly, passing cars and running lights as responsibly as I could. When I arrived I could see my wife standing outside of the car and talking to the EMT's. I could tell she was shaken up but not seriously hurt. Knowing what I know from my medical team role at work I politely ran off the ambulance drivers. They carefully suggest over and over that you take the $1000+ ride down the street whether you need it or not. If you truly need it, they don't ask.

I glanced at the mangled rear driver side of the Acura and instantly knew the axle was broken and that it would be totaled. A police officer asked about her proof of insurance card. My wife said she was too confused to find it.

I stuck my head in the cab and it looked like a bomb had gone off inside. Broken glass, juice everywhere, books, papers, clothes; it's not like it was clean beforehand but the 35-40mph accident had spun the car around.

I couldn't find it at first and just grabbed her purse. I handed my card to the officer, telling him it was my card, she was on it, and the insurance could be verified at the number on the card. I respect the police, but he reads the card and says "This is your card, she's on it, but I can't tell if she's covered in this vehicle unless I call this number." As if it was news to ME? I said "Do what you have to do, man. I'm taking her to get checked at the hospital now." He was like, "Oh, right. I'll, uh, meet you there."

I personally don't think I pay nearly 40% taxes to the govt. and $150 a month to insurance so that I have to plan my life around being able to produce the "correct" piece of paper on demand while standing roadside with a crying wife and totaled automobile at 7:30 AM and I'm not even wearing socks. The car is either covered at the time of the accident or it's not. All of the info was on my card, which I did have, and regardless of her card or mine, the coverage would have to be in effect at the time to satisfy the law- which it was. So, f*ck off traffic cop, you deserve your post in life and I hope you stay there until you learn better.

Anyway, the car was towed away and while we wait for next steps from the insurance company I'll be driving my wife around in the Saturn for the next few days. The scooter will become a necessity as she starts to drive the Saturn until we replace her car.

All in all, I consider us lucky. It was too close to being much worse.

Mile 1000

Well, mile 400 on the new odometer. Since it was reset to zero with the replacement dash panel at the 600 mile service. I can't believe I've logged 1K on the BV and 2,500+ on both scooters combined!

Speaking of the Met', I ran into Mrs. Z at lunch today and she said it was sold yesterday. Circle of life, I guess.

We've had three more days of rain this week and I rode every day but one, and that day it didn't rain. Go figure. Luckily the storms have come while I'm indoors working and calm down when I'm traveling. I stay a lot drier on the 250. I think the windshield has a lot to do with it.

Yellow pollen season has begun and the Bev gets coated overnight. I'm going to have to build in some wipe down time in the mornings.

Fueled up today. Couldn't help but catch the previous driver's total...

And here's mine.

My barbershop was saying that gas will hit $4/ga in May.

Family Fun

A beautiful Sunday for riding took to Gentry to formally celebrate my grandfather's 90th birthday. The trip had a few bugs in it...literally. My face and wind shields were splattered with quite a few creatures. No complaints, though. A great day for a ride!

New Roads

We took the Beverly to Gentry to celebrate my grandfather's 90th birthday. Clean living and physical activity in case you were wondering.

We is Robin, Oscar, and I. I removed the hard case trunk and ratchet strapped the small pet carrier in it's place. It may take a few trips for the dog to get used to it.

It was warm but windy. Robin had discovered a new route to Gentry. It's a country back roads starting in Vaughn that eventually connect to HWY 59. It's 55 mph most of the way with a couple 90 degree turns thrown in for good measure.

The country road was hard top and cut through horse ranches, cow pastures, and farmland. The landscape was like a video game it was so perfect. No litter, well-manicured, white picket fences and all. A superior route for a scooter. We even saved at least 10 minutes.

On the way home we "low waved" another couple on a motorcycle. It turned out to be Robin's friend and her husband. The next biker started flashing his lights as we approached and instead of the wave he popped a wheelie at 45 mph. It seemed reckless but I couldn't help but be impressed. We waved at a few more bikers and we even saw an MP3!

I forgot to mention that I gave another friend a ride to lunch. A co-worker that you wouldn't expect to ride felt comfortable braving a quick scoot to lunch. It was fun to share an experience with someone who may not have tried it otherwise. Good day for the BV 250.

Catching Waves

As I hopped off the bike and walked into the building today an older woman on her smoke break said, "You must be a hardcore rider to be riding in the mornings this week." I smiled and said, "With the appropriate gear it's quite comfortable."

Of course, I immediately realized my answer probably drained any street cred I had just earned. I should have quoted Tenacious D by shouting "Well, you're not hardcore unless you live hardcore!"

I had the chance to give a friend a ride home. We passed a middle school and a group of kids waved. As we approached another group of kids they started waving. My friend asked, "Why are all these kids waving at us?" I said, "I don't know. It happens all the time."

And it does. I should be glad. The bright yellow jacket is designed for visibility and I can't help notice that almost everyone watches the scooter go by. Especially kids and old men.

The photo above is courtesy bikerlawblog.com. It's a shot of the motorcycle low wave. It's a gesture of awareness for other riders.

It's like saying, "I see you other motorcycle rider and acknowledge you while I'm also aware of everything else that is going on around us like the idiot SUV driver in front of me with poor lane control, talking on her cell phone, that probably doesn't see either of us and - you're cool."

I do like the variations, like the rider-and-passenger dual wave, the handle bar finger-lift, and my personal favorite - the helmet nod. I didn't get as many return waves on the Metro.

Speaking of the Met', I took the Beverly in to repair the speedometer and have the 600 mile service. The only loaner Vespa o' the Ozarks had was my former Metropolitan. As soon as I sat down I was overwhelmed with how much smaller a bike it was. I can't believe I got by with the tiny frame and matching power. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with the Metro, but I don't think I can come back from the room and get-up-and-go of the BV 250.

At the same time, it was like a visit from an old friend. I do miss a bit of the lighter agility and sense of basic pleasure the Metro affords. No regrets, though. The tune-up did just that and the Beverly runs like a champ now. The brand new odometer was set at zero, so I'll have to add 300 miles to it in my head when I think about it.

Rain Delay

We've had a lot of rain the past two weeks. After the last round, the sun came out and the wife wanted to go for a ride. We found the sign above at the east entrance to Lake Atatlanta.


This is the over run road. You might recognize it from a couple of posts ago when I commented on how the drainage pipes were really running with all the rain. Ha! We took the highway to the other entrance and patrolled the park pathways surveying the unusual amounts of water.

Evening ride

It was a beautiful 76 F today. When I got home for work I took the wife for a ride. We went across the bridge, incidentally behind another couple on a touring bike. We both turned around at the other end of the bridge and rode back.

We stopped at the lake access and picked through driftwood for my aquariums. The lake is higher than I've ever seen it and we have more rain on the way! After a few moments, we got back on the scooter and picked a random side road to explore. It was a paved, wooded road with a an occasional horse ranch. We met another couple on a sport bike enjoying the same ride.

The random road connected to my old "backroad" route to work from my Metropolitan days. It may have been a subliminal decision, as I had been thinking earlier in the day about how the old route was more pleasant than the faster new route.

It was time for fuel and it took $8 this time. Highest yet, with $3.54/ga. for 91 octane. We took the Lake Atatlanta access road home. Plenty of people out enjoying the day.

Of course, I forgot the camera AND my phone. Ah well.

In the Press

I was interviewed at work about the new scooter. The following appeared in our newsletter.

"Donna: Sundance’s PSP saves natural resources and his pocketbook at the same time.

Sundance, let’s talk about your gas expense. How much do you spend on gas per month?

Sundance: About $23.

Donna: How is that possible?

Sundace: On most days, I ride a scooter to work that gets 65 miles per gallon.

Donna: Wow! I would love to trade, I barely get down the block for that! Other than cash savings, what was your motivation to switch to a scooter?

Sundace: It reduces my transportation carbon emissions by half, reduces demand for foreign oil, and gets better parking spaces!

If Americans were to switch just 10 percent of their total mileage to scooters, they would consume 14 - 18 million gallons less fuel per day and carbon dioxide emissions could be reduced by 324 million pounds per day. (Source ICR survey, May 2006)

The activist is not the man who says the river is dirty. The activist is the man who cleans up the river. ~Ross Perot"