Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa, Royal Enfield Himalayan, Honda Trail 125, and a Kawasaki W650

Riding in Cold Weather: Dress for Success

by 17 Comments

These two Vespa scooters flanking my GTS belong to first time riders — a young man and woman, maybe in college, perhaps high school. They are excited about riding and I’ve seen them around town. They ride with helmets on top of short pants and t-shirts, no gloves and no boots. A riding costume I see not just with scooters but on sport bikes and cruisers as well. This post isn’t about safety concerns though. It’s about how these kinds of dress habits may short circuit the discovery of the thrill of riding in cold weather. I’ve spoken to many, many riders who dismiss riding in the cold. To a rider when asked what kind of cold weather gear they used they admitted they didn’t have any. Under dress when the temperature dips below 70 and things can feel chilly. Below 60 and you figure you should just park the machine.

I love riding in the fall, especially at sunrise. There’s a warm glow in the autumn light, a fragrance of decaying leaves, and a crispness to the air that is unmatched any other time of the year. I left early in the morning for a short ride before work, a sort of extended commute. Coming down the mountain I say my temperature gauge reading 45 degrees, cold by most rider’s standards. I hate being cold and shiver at 68 degrees. I look forward to riding in cold weather but only with the right gear.

To be able to enjoy the road when the temperature goes down means you absolutely have to have the right gear. Otherwise things will be miserable. It means a commitment of money and time — money to buy the stuff and time to put it on. And for some it may mean a divorce from any preconceived style ideas especially where helmets are concerned.

If you are used to just jumping on a motorcycle or scooter with whatever you happen to be wearing you may have a hard time in cold weather rationalizing the amount of gear you have to don. It may be best to bundle the machine up in the garage and do something else. Just remember, you’ll be missing some great riding.

My hands were already getting cold after numerous stops to make pictures where I had to take off my gloves. The camera feels like an ice cube in cold weather. As the first beam of sunlight cut through the forest it was 45 degrees it was 40 degrees warmer than my lowest riding temperature limit of 5 degrees. At the lowest temperature here is what I wear from the skin out:

Poly long underwear
Long sleeved shirt
Windproof jacket
Blue jeans
Heavy socks
Tourmaster Overpants
Leather boots
First Gear Kilimanjaro IV Armored jacket
Ski mask
Full helmet
Gerbing electric gloves

For someone used to riding with no gear that’s a lot of stuff to put on.

With the sun sweeping across the open fields it was time to ride to work. On this particular morning I had on everything on the above list EXCEPT the ski mask, long underwear, and electric gloves. Still takes time to put it on.

So before you decide that cold weather is not for you beg or borrow some gear and try riding when you are not cold. You may find the effort brings you many more weeks or months of riding.

Good Rider, Bad Driver?

by 8 Comments

Fog draped the world when I rode into town on Sunday to meet a friend. Better planning would have found me wandering with a camera. Fog is a high alert situation and requires (me) steady concentration and skills at the ready. I’m familiar and experienced in these conditions. I’ve considered possibilities in general and specific options on the road. I feel I am a good rider and continuing two-wheeled learner.

Recently a postcard came across my desk advertising an advanced driver-training course offered by my employer. As I read through the description – evasive maneuvers, skidding, panic braking, and other things that I’ve only experienced in movies I began to wonder what kind of driver I am?

Riders tend to make sport of cagers and engage in tales of driver antics and idiocy. I suspect more than one character highlighted has been a rider who happened to be driving on that occasion. I have a lot of years behind the wheel, a lot of experience driving, but I’ve not thought much about it and aside from drivers ed class in 1970 haven’t practiced a thing.

Riding experience doesn’t necessarily translate to a car.

I was excited to take the driving course until I figured out it would cost almost 500 dollars. Sure, I would like to get on a track and learn some high-speed maneuvers and skid along like James Bond, but 500 bucks…

I’m thinking about my driving and what gaps exist in skill or temperament. I don’t often get angry anymore while driving. That’s a plus. And I’ve always had two-wheel drive pickup trucks and function fine in the Pennsylvania winters. I’ve even pulled a couple four-wheel drive vehicles out of snowy ditches. That has to mean something right?

The Daydreaming Rider

by 16 Comments


While eating my lunch the other day I watched a segment of The Tonight Show on the Web. In response to a question by Jay Leno actor Hugh Laurie (from the TV show House) said he would like to ride his Triumph motorcycle across America. The stuff of many daydreaming riders. He talked about putting a sidecar on the motorcycle and packing up his gear and just riding forth to see some of what makes up this country. See what makes up this country — those were the words that resonated with me. Seeing and experiencing places is at the foundation of many of my own daydreams. I don’t know whether Mr. Laurie will ever makes his ride but his description of why he wanted to ride echoed my own. He sounded like the kind of guy I would be comfortable sharing the road with.

Riding daydreams are a pleasant aspect of my restless and wandering mind. No task is too monotonous or trying to not respond well to a good riding daydream. Just give me a map or atlas and I am on the road with the Vespa visiting parts unknown. Endless roads, National Parks and city streets, mountain passes and open plains, nameless small towns and rugged coastlines. Wandering through the world taking it all in like a man with new eyes.

My conscious mind may remind me that some daydreams don’t really fit my mental or physical resources. But daydreams offer a vicarious path of experience, rides I will probably never undertake. Like the Cannonball Run underway now with scooterists racing across the country. Or IronButt rides running a thousand miles in less than 24 hours. I’m not competitive with the clock or other riders but there is a thrill imagining what it might be like to do my own Long Way Round or on a dirt bike flying through Baja in From Dust to Glory. Mental wanderings of a daydreaming rider.

I wonder sometimes what I would do with time and money. If I would actually transform a lot of daydreams into reality. Until then I’ll continue to ride as I can, daydream when convenient, and relish experience as it comes.

Transition: Vespa to Triumph

by 17 Comments

5:30 AM. Dark and raining. My destination 58 miles away. An appropriate start for the transition from my Vespa GTS 250ie to a 2008 Triumph America. I agreed to shuttle the Triumph back to town for a friend of my father-in-law for maintenance at our local Triumph dealer. I’ll have the Triumph for a week and the chance for an extended demo ride was too much to pass up.  A temporary assignment to a Triumph.

Riding in the Dark

For me, the combination of darkness and rain is a weather challenge only exceeded by snow. Empty rural roads and slow speeds would dominate the trip until dawn. And I was hoping the rain kept the deer on the ground until the weather cleared a bit. Riding through the countryside and watching the road ahead lit solely by my headlight I was reminded of how small the area of illumination is and slow I have to ride to be able to stop within the area I can see. Even if I wanted to go faster there really was no way to manage it safely.

I sat a while at an on ramp of Interstate 99 gauging traffic for one leg of my trip. An endless series of tractor-trailers roaring along in a cloud of spray made the decision not to venture onto the freeway simple.
The sky showed the first signs of light in Tyrone and the rain was nothing more than mist. I stopped to dry my visor and make sure my digital camera wasn’t getting too wet in my pocket.
Nearing Altoona I stopped to watch the fog move along the mountainside. Apart from a heavy surf breaking on a rocky shore I can think of few things whose appearance brings me such quiet pleasure.

The Triumph America

My first thought on seeing the motorcycle in my father-in-law’s garage was that all that chrome was going to get dirty. And indeed it did. The switch from the Vespa to something the size of the America demands some changes in thought and approach. The additional weight is managed differently. The feet forward cruiser pegs and added tasks of shifting and foot braking are not on the regular riding menu. For the first few miles I reprogrammed myself with a bit of conscious practice and the old muscle memories returned from a long vacation.
More empty roads gave me the chance to practice some hard braking, swerving and other actions specific to the weight of the Triumph. The bike performed nicely and it became quite comfortable to handle.
By the time I got home I felt relaxed on the America. It’s two-cylinder engine thumped along like a champ and I could see how someone might enjoy one. It’s not for me though.

The Triumph is too big, too powerful, and too clumsy for the eclectic riding I do. There would be no quick u-turns or pushing through deep gravel and grass for a picture. It’s size and weight just takes too long to manage. Even the few times I stopped for pictures I watched that kickstand carefully to see if it would support the weight on the surfaces I was on. And I passed up many picture locations I just didn’t think I could get the bike to safely or easily like I could with the Vespa. Still, it is a nice motorcycle.

If I had any complaints at all it was with the loud exhaust. Aftermarket pipes made the America nothing short of obnoxious to my ears. When I left Altoona I had my earplugs in when I started it up and while had quite a rumble it wasn’t until I got home and started it for Kim without the plugs that I realized how really loud it was. On a long trip I can’t imagine having to listen to it thundering in my brain. I suspect returning the factory pipes would fix that problem. Still, it is a nice motorcycle.

I’ll probably get the motorcycle back from the Triumph dealer on Tuesday and be able to ride it the rest of the week before going back to Altoona to retrieve my Vespa. We’ll see how things go until then…

The Road Devours All Concerns

by 12 Comments

With the Vespa parked across from the Cafe on the Park I sat outside in the cool air with a cup of tea and watched the world go by. Moments like these remind me why I ride alone. But they don’t always come easy.

Checking the scooter over in the driveway this morning I had no idea where to go. I’ve not ridden much apart from my commute to work. Thinking about the road ahead made me anxious. Nervous. A soft melancholy flow squeezed me and my gut was whispering to stay home. Backpacker and author Colin Fletcher describes the feeling in “The Complete Walker”. Something that happens to him before a backpacking trip the he refers to as “Fletcherititis”. An unexplained and sudden onset of physical and emotional symptoms striving to keep him at home.

But the road devours all concerns.

The cafe is not on my mental riding stop list. Somehow I forget about it despite nothing but exceptional morning meals. This morning was no exception. I’ll have to reprogram.

The ride home was like a kid wandering through the neighborhood after school. (Do parents actually let their kids still do that?) No road was too small, no track too difficult. My only goal was slow and empty.

Riding off the beaten path always reminds of things. This gravel road freshened thoughts of more aggressive Kenda K 761 tires to run this winter. They are more akin to those you see on a Honda Ruckus.

Cotton candy clouds and blue skies, riding along towards home, the tires, winter, and everything else faded. All that was left was the road…