Exploring life on a Vespa Scooter and Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle.
Desire sweeps in unexpectedly. Contentment gives way to desire and as rational as my thought process seems I wonder if it is all a delusion in service of a selfish and irrational desire. I want another motorcycle.
Such is the state of things for the past few weeks as I scour the internet for a Triumph 900 Scrambler.
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There are moments on the road when you realize your estimations of the day are wrong. What’s true in the driveway has become false in another place. As I stood in the middle of the road atop the Allegheny Plateau, it was apparent that the balmy mid-40s temperatures promised at home in the valley were not to come true here. Paul had expressed doubts about riding far when we left, he doesn’t have the winter gear I do and I can only guess he rides in the cold through grit and determination where I lean more towards the comfort of a riding spacesuit.
But even in the spacesuit, I could tell it was cold. Maybe it was the wind blowing in my face when I raised the visor to talk. The two motorcycles in the cold were stopped there because I wanted to record a piece for my next installment on my YouTube channel.
By the time we finished, we decided to turn back toward the valley and the warmth of someplace to get a snack. That’s what happens when you ride motorcycles in the cold.
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When Craig Kissell of Kissell Motorsports asked me what I thought of the Tiger after spending a few chilly days with it I told him it has moved to the top of my list. It’s pretty, it’s fast and it is one of the smoothest shifting motorcycles I have had the pleasure to ride. But there’s a lot more of interest to me with the Triumph Tiger XC.
The weather played a role in this review — specifically snow and cold. The first day the Tiger sat in the garage while I watched eight inches of snow fall on the ground. It was a heavy, wet, big snowflake kind of snow that covered the ground but for most of the day left the road wet with just a few areas of slush. I would not have hesitated to take the Vespa for a ride but restrained myself from taking the shiny new Triumph out into the salt and slush. Periodically through the day I visited the Weather.com site on my iPhone trying to speed the storm front along and bring more suitable riding conditions. Sunday morning found temperatures below freezing with areas of ice and slush near home.
So I waited.
And waited. Until finally, by mid-afternoon I deemed conditions acceptable to go for a ride. Morning sunshine and temperatures above freezing during the previous night quickly dispatched the snow. The very first thing I noticed at 28F was there was a surprising bit of wind protection on the Tiger. The windscreen sent a large portion of the frigid air up and past my chest and the hand guards did an excellent job of keeping my hands and fingers limber and almost warm.
The Tiger is easy to ride. One of the few bikes I’ve ridden where I felt completely at home almost instantly. That’s saying a lot when you consider the jump from Vespa to Tiger. Riding position was comfortable and so was the seat. I was able to tear around the countryside in much the same manner I do with the Vespa — start and stop at will, make U-turns easily, and navigate a wide range of surfaces without anxiety. All important things to me.
Everyone rides for a different reason. I like to see things. New places, new roads, new views. The ordinary places. No need for me to make grand excursions or trips. There’s magic everywhere. The Triumph was an amazingly inviting ride. Moving through the backroads of Pennsylvania I felt as if I had been riding this bike for years.
After about an hour on the road I could feel my fingers beginning to flicker with the beginnings of numbness when I decided to stop and enjoy the view as I crested a ridge and headed on towards the Allegheny Plateau. The Tiger has a wonderful engine sound through a nice big muffler. And while well shielded to make riding pillion enjoyable Triumph must have kept riders like me in mind by making sure there was ample accessible hot metal to warm a poor rider’s cold hands.
I think it was here that I was wishing for heated grips. I hate having cold hands.
There was still snow along the higher stretches of Interstate 99, a part of the ride I chose to try out the Triumph’s freeway capabilities.
No problems on the freeway. At 75mph the engine hums nicely at 5000 rpms. And at 80mph the motorcycle flows effortlessly. I believe I could ride this bike a long way.
A short pause for food and drink. I have simple tastes that are easily satisfied by a cheesedog. I can tell cold weather has arrived by the looks and comments I get from people who thing it is utterly insane to be riding on a cold day.
The hot dog doesn’t help onlookers make sense of the whole cold weather riding thing.
Speaking of cold weather riding, the landscape and riding routes are so beautiful this time of year that I am loathe to deny myself the pleasure purely because the temperature has dropped. The Triumph is a great partner for cold weather riding when the roads are clear. And with the addition of an outlet for my Gerbing Electric Gloves I’m certain I could navigate through most of the winter.
Riding through a shaded valley along the creek I could feel the air chill enough that I figured it was time to head home just 20 miles away. Farther if I wandered a bit.
The worst part of the ride was when I found myself heading directly at the sun as it neared the horizon. Riding with one hand on the throttle and the other up shielding my eyes from the glare was tedious at times but not difficult on the stable Tiger.
.
At home I’ve already pictured this machine in the garage, a frequent choice over my Vespa for a variety of riding adventures both large and small. The bike feels safe, reliable, like we’re working together. It’s got enough power to go anywhere and do anything I can ever imagine doing though keep in mind I pretty much feel the same way about my much smaller Vespa GTS 250.
So to be thorough I decide to take the next morning off to ride a bit more before making any final claims or decisions.
THE NEXT MORNING
Warmer temperatures and the promise of clear skies had me out early on the Tiger. Early enough to pass through a few patches of lingering fog in some of the narrow passages that allow easy passage between the mountains in the ridge and valley portion of Pennsylvania. My comfort and ease with the motorcycle must have grown in my sleep allowing me to make U-turns at will on even the narrowest of roads — something I can’t say for every motorcycle I’ve ridden.
A lot of riders judge motorcycles in two ways — how fast it will go, and how fast it will go a long time. For me, how easy it is to maneuver at slow speeds is a really important quality for a machine intended for frequent commuting, errand running and all around riding.
But I suppose if you plan to ride a long way in a straight line any big bike will do. And the Tiger will do that just fine by the way.
No motorcycle review is complete in my mind until I know how well the machine transports me to breakfast. The Sunset West Restaurant provided the location and the Tiger delivered me there without incident.
Breakfast consisted of the usual fare for me and I was pleasantly surprised by the appearance of crispy bacon, an obvious omen of support for the Tiger. Who actually likes those limp, greasy strips of hog fat that often appear unless you ask specifically for the cook to keep them near the fire a bit longer?
I really wanted to pound some gravel roads with the Tiger but it was just too shiny and new for me to bring myself to put it at risk for a fall. Not sure why since I had ridden other machines up and down powerline paths. I must be getting old.
Despite concerns and tires better suited for the pavement I did test the Tiger in a few off road environs and found it capable beyond my skill or temperament. And it easily managed a number of explorations to what I like to call sylvan treasure sites — those old out of the way depositories that people too busy to make it to the dump use for their personal detritus. I can spend a lot of time looking around in these places. I never find anything useful but the potential is seductive. I suppose it’s what drives Powerball ticket sales.
The Triumph Tiger XC is a go machine. Go now, go fast, and go far. Anytime. And it is forgiving enough to go slow, go to the store, and do all the things I like to do. I stood along the road with my camera thinking, “I want one of these.”
I do. I want one. And Craig Kissell would be delighted to sell me one. Or any number of other motorcycles for that matter.
If you’re in the neighborhood the Tiger is certainly worth a look or even a test ride.
Just a few quick observations from a short ride home tonight.
“Dead sexy” I’m thinking as I look down at the handlebar assembly of the Tiger XC. There’s a combination of metallic texture, machining, fasteners and form that come together in a mechanical object that almost makes me drool. Maybe it was a long week at work or a general lack of riding recently but when I sat on the Triumph in the parking lot of Kissell Motorsports late this afternoon I was primed and ready to roll.
Two days ago I thought the weekend would be sunny and cold. When I checked the weather report in the parking lot the forecast called for 6 to 10 inches of snow overnight. Not exactly the best riding conditions. While I might venture out in some snow on the Vespa I won’t be taking a brand new motorcycle out for any test rides. The ride home would have to recharge my riding batteries at least enough to get to Sunday and the promise of clear weather.
Triumph makes a nice motorcycle. The engine is smooth, powerful and seems to offer endless torque creating a forgiving environment for a rider. Regardless of what gear I was in or how fast I was going the motorcycle just kept going without complaint. And the transmission was flawless. Smooth shifting and just, well, almost invisible. Every Triumph I ridden had this same smooth transmission.
My original plan called for an early Saturday morning departure for points north. The plan at the moment is to stay in bed as long as possible or until Junior insists I take him out for a walk. The Tiger will probably spend the day in the garage unless things change dramatically overnight.
The Triumph is easy to ride. While I would not characterize it as a beginners bike (it’s tall) anyone who already knows how to ride would probably find their comfort zone with this motorcycle after a few minutes of riding. Seating position, pegs, brake and shifter levers, everything just felt like it was exactly where it should be.
Minutes after I took this picture and headed down the road I crossed through some of the thickest water/limestone guck I have seen on a road. The quarry usually hoses the road off several times a day to keep the dust down. Someone must have been out sick today. In case you’re reading this Craig I washed the bike off as soon as I got home. I didn’t want your motorcycle looking like my Vespa which was last washed in 2010.
At the local firehall I wondered in the Tiger XC would be a good trial bike and if I could manage to ride over an old car. I wondered this stuff. There was never a time in my life I would have attempted such a thing.
But it is nice to daydream.
And that’s what tomorrow will bring along with the snow. If all goes well I should be able to take this motorcycle out on Sunday for a more informative ride. I’m certain the Triumph will be a delight to tour through the sticks on.
I want the Triumph Scrambler in my driveway. It’s been the subject of more than a few riding fantasies. Not long ago I had the chance to test my desire.
Next to my bed is an Orvis catalog. Their marketing and creative staff seem to have worked over time to push into my subconscious and trigger desire for canvas field coats, twill and flannel shirts, and an assortment of leather belts and boots, all to embrace the coming fall, all part of a design sensibility rooted deep in tradition and experience growing up, the outdoor style of my father, the look and feel before the advent of hi-tech fabric and construction.
Triumph has managed the same thing with the Scrambler. They’ve electrified my imagination by bringing this modern machine before me while triggering dreams of desert sleds and Baja adventure from my youth. It’s a potent combination.
While my personal fascination with traditional, timeless clothing style may be perfectly functional when it turns towards more mechanical iconography those items often wither under the bright light of daily use. Doesn’t matter if it’s a camera, car or motorcycle, the fantasy never lives up to my expectations when I attempt to put them to daily use.
This is a story of dreams.
Two people have a role in this tale — Craig Kissell, owner of Kissell Motorsports and granter of magical wishes by putting a Scrambler in my hands, and Jonathan Ziegler (JZ), creative director, designer, sometimes author of Two-Lane Blacktop, and rider of a 1977 BMW R75/6.
Craig has maintained that my riding and writing about his motorcycles helps his business and my slow, scooter perspective on the motorcycle experience doesn’t seem to hurt and I have the chance to walk on the wild side.
JZ is the kind of rider suited for a vintage airhead—attentive to detail, driven by style, and possessing the requisite patience needed to own and sometimes actually ride a vintage motorcycle.
I have no business owning a vintage motorcycle. While I can be seduced by the look and style of many older machines my lack of patience makes me a poor candidate to join the crowd of vintage airhead riders, BSA and Norton aficionados, or those poor souls who surrender their sanity to finicky vintage Triumphs, Vespas, and Harleys. I expect the bike to start when I press the starter button. Every time, regardless of weather, time of day, tide or phase of the moon. I find no romance in side of the road repairs regardless of how many riding stories they might inspire. I want to ride.
The desire for the Scrambler is based on anything but actual need and reflects a definition of a motorcycle in my head developed in my youth from movies, television and the infrequent motojournalism to which I encountered. I believe almost every rider, in a quiet moment of honest reflection, will find their choice of rides are based on a manipulation of desire based on style, tradition, perception and fear of being different. Choices based on actual need are tricks of the mind.
So I don’t often kid myself into thinking I actually need much. I do want a lot though.
A Saturday morning and I pull up to JZ’s garage, hoping his machine will actually start and we can take advantage of a lovely morning to ride. And get breakfast.
I’m drawn to simplicity of style and function. A look at the instrument cluster on the Scrambler reveals a Spartan collection of information:
A speedometer to tell you when you’re at risk of a speeding ticket.
An odometer, useful to keep track of mileage since there is no fuel gauge.
A green light indicating the turn signals are on – but not which one.
A blue light to let you know your high beam is on.
A small orange check engine diode informing you of, most likely, some incomplete product of combustion. Or maybe the engine is ready to blow up.
And another diode informing you that soon you will run out of gas.
Nothing else. No gear indicator, RPMs, ambient temperature readout (I’ll miss that one) or anything else. And certainly no stereo, GPS, heated seats or grips, and no windscreen. Just a straightforward motorcycle to safely and efficiently get you from point A to B.
In style.
The two motorcycles look good together and are completely at home on the backroads of central Pennsylvania. Looking at pictures like this makes me wonder why I don’t make more time to ride.
We headed south down the valley towards Petersburg and the Route 22 Diner, a small, unassuming establishment along US22 just east of Water Street. It serves a fine hearty breakfast without pretense or fuss.
The Scrambler is not a good choice for anyone requiring the like-minded support of others. You’re not going to find crowds of Scrambler riders at the local diner. This is a unique motorcycle for the rider heading in a different direction. Where Harley talks about the lone rider on the road in their marketing, Triumph actually delivers with the Scrambler. I have never seen another on the road.
Esquire magazine says every man in America needs a Triumph Scrambler. They’re seeing it as a statement of style. I see the Scrambler as a key to unlock insight, imagination, and the first steps towards spiritual freedom. Spoken like a true Vespa rider.
Fifteen miles from breakfast we’re buying fuel at the Sheetz in Huntingdon. The lot is packed with cars and motorcycles. At the next pump is a bright red Ducati MultiStrada ridden by Doug Roeshot, orthopedic surgeon and Ducatista. After a brief conversation about plans he invites us to join himself and another Ducati rider for a ride. Not wanting to reveal my fear that Ducati riders believe the throttle only has one position — wide open, I infer while JZ is in the store that his BMW is having problems and we wouldn’t want to be a burden. Thinking back, as I was feeling some aches and pains from the ride, and watching Doug labor to get his leg over the topcase on the Ducati, I realize that neither of us will probably do anything scary on the road.
But you have to keep up appearances.
The ride home was uneventful. Just he kind of ride you need sometimes. The Scrambler performed flawlessly and the BMW exhibited the kind of eccentric behavior I associate with vintage machines — turn it off in the heat and the thing will not want to start again. At this point all of you serious vintage airhead readers should weigh in and criticize Ziegler for not learning to tune his bike correctly. He’s a designer. He is used to criticism.
I had long admired the Triumph Scramblers at Kissell Motorsports. When opportunity arrived to take one for a ride I was pleased but hesitant because you never really know how you will respond to a motorcycle until you have the chance to ride it. Heading home that first evening I was all smiles.
Each jump from Vespa to motorcycle requires a physical adjustment due to riding position, handlebar width, how much I have to struggle to get my feet to make friends with the shifter and brake levers – that sort of thing. Making those adjustments with my 57 year old body are, well, aggravating. During the time I had the Scrambler I made note on the burning across my shoulders from the wider handlebars, and was grumbling under my breath from time to time about an assortment of aches and pains. By the end of the second day I was completely acclimated and ready to do 800 mile days.
Well, maybe 400 mile days.
All that was left was to test the off-pavement capabilities since a big part of my fantasy for this motorcycle involved going places where others dare not tread. The run across one of Penn State’s gravel roads is much smoother on the Triumph than my Vespa. Go figure.
Being an adult I mediated fantasy with a healthy dose of reality and stayed on some reasonably tame pathways.Â
Verdict: the stock tires aren’t exactly what the doctor ordered for off the pavement action. I was pleasantly surprised at how nimble and smooth the bike was. While I didn’t take any spine jarring hits from ruts or rocks it was fine on the kind of forest and mountain roads that crisscross this part of Pennsylvania.
I want one of these motorcycles. It looks good at the end of the driveway in the morning light. Kim, if you are reading this, you should push me to buy one.
My desire was strong enough that I avoided visiting Kissell Motorsports for fear I would buy it. Craig probably wonders what happened to me. He sold the Scramblers. It safe to visit now. Until the next shipment arrives.