The Vespa GTS250ie on the road last night, freshly repaired by Kissell Motorsports, the local Vespa dealer.  Oh my, how I missed that machine.  A long workday meant a short ride at dusk but satisfying nonetheless.

The final assessment on the GTS failure was a bad battery and not the fuel pump.  Hooray for that.  The repair I did was fine so I didn’t introduce any problems — just an unfortunate chain of coincidence.

The glow of State College, Pennsylvania in the distance.  Standing along the road making this picture I couldn’t think of anything more perfect that being out in the world courtesy of a riding machine — surely a result of the “distance makes the heart grow fonder” phenomenon.

I had forgotten how quick the scooter is.  It’s always felt quicker than any motorcycle I’ve ridden.  Quick.  I’ll have to ponder how to define that another time.

The lure to ride on into the night was strong but being a mature, thinking man I made the choice to return home and think about income tax forms and swapping out a toilet — other equally soul enhancing activities.

One last stop in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania, just a block away from the Piston and Pints Moto Hang Lounge, for a picture of the Vespa in front of some of the local commercial establishments.

Late in the evening I said part of the Real Rider’s Prayer:  Please, please let it only be the battery and that there be many more rides ahead.

The view in my rear view mirror.  That’s not a funeral procession, it’s my friend Paul Ruby hauling my Vespa in for repair.  His big blue truck doesn’t fly along as fast as some motorists would like. I finally gave up trying to fix the scooter myself, resignation and acceptance.

A lot of email has come my way about the mechanical problems.  I will have to post a more detailed description of what happened.  It’s not a design or reliability failure of the machine.  Responsibility rests solely with me and my slothful approach to taking care of mechanical business.

I could fit the GTS into the back of my van if I removed the windshield and mirrors.  And if I had a ramp.  The big blue truck solution was easier — just cheated the scooter in between the sidewall and a panini press.  (Paul makes a living selling stuff on eBay).

Kissell Motorsports.  THE place to find BMW, Ducati, Triumph, Vespa and URAL.  It’s like a candy store for grown men.  And women I guess though I seldom see any female riders there.  They’re probably all out riding and not wasting time drooling over machinery.

But I digress…

Inside, in the back, in the garage, someone will have a look at the Vespa and figure out what it will take to get me back on the road.

Here I am, sitting on the back of Paul’s truck with a dead Vespa inside.  The last time I sat like this my LX150 was inside.  I didn’t know it at the time but the drive belt change I attempted a day earlier led to the complete and total destruction of the engine.  I also led to the acquisition of a new Vespa GTS250ie.  The thought was going through my head about what I would be getting next.  And I still don’t know the verdict.

If you want to read that old sad LX150 story, a reminder to anyone attempting their own maintenance when they are a sloppy worker like me, it’s called NON-RIDING ADVENTURE.

My poor Vespa.  It’s in the place where Ducatis go to die.  Like a bright colored metal elephant’s graveyard.  At least that’s what was going through my head when I made this picture.

The plus side of hauling an ailing scooter or motorcycle into a dealership is you get to immerse yourself in a sea of dreams.  Paul pointed out a lovely BMW 1200 RT that he would like to trade in his K1200 for save for this comment, “It costs more than a new Honda Accord.” Craig Kissell can spot non-buyers like Paul and I a mile away.

I left with this list rolling in my head:

Triumph Bonneville
Triumph Scrambler
BMW F800GS
BMW F700GS
Vespa GTS300
Triumph Tiger 800 in Phantom Black

Stay tuned– the mechanic should be returning with a verdict soon and I”ll know if I’m sentenced to life on a Vespa or sent to some alternative mechanical system.

Got the Vespa running this afternoon and had to go for a ride.  That was sweet and in the weather I love.

The sad news — I think the fuel pump died miles from home.  Tomorrow the GTS gets trucked to Kissell Motorsports in State College, PA.  I’ve had enough — I just want to ride.

The familiar pattern, an errand, a chore, any chance to be on two wheels, moving, traveling, riding in the world.  The memory was almost dim until this evening the spell drifted like smoke on a calm night through mind and flesh.

Whispering.

Ride, ride, ride…

And suddenly the scooter is parked in the woods, the sun dying in the west, a simple pleasure of being pulsing through veins, heart beating with a swift lightness.

Riding again, a small scooter, a humble errand.

Remember how it feels, alone on the road, cares washed away revealing enchantment, a trance lined with bliss at just being alive?  The magic of riding — forgotten somehow.

The last remnants of winter, dark, gray, dirty with the heavy feelings of a world too long cut off from the light yet I feel impervious to it’s power.  I only want to ride, if only for a few minutes on a short, ordinary errand.

I remember the bewitchment, the alchemy of air and movement, sound and smell, images sweeping by like a fast stream in spring.

Almost home, a quick stop for a picture of the warm weather location of the Piston and Pints Moto Hang in warm weather.  For those nearby, there will be a Piston and Pints get together tomorrow — March 30 at 6pm at Legends — a lounge at the Penn Stater Conference Hotel in State College, PA.

A few miles on the road rewired my brain, introduced a heaping dose of thrill cut with desire and electricity. Side effects:  quickened heartbeat, easy smile, temporary reversal of the aging process.

Holy shit — I love to ride. I have to fix the Vespa…