Adventure riding and Vespa are not words commonly linked together. The image of a BMW R1200 GS fording a rushing stream or crossing a desert in is the stuff of adventuring riding. Not a Vespa. Not a scooter. My own definition is broader and finds the possibility of adventure everywhere. I consider it a state of mind rather than a location or route.

Yesterday morning on the way to work I made a detour that took me through a fallow field that I suspect will soon yield to a developers bulldozer. I followed the matted tracks in the weeds across uneven ground. As a kid I would explore these places looking for real estate suitable for a fort or raw material for the next tree house. These places were unknown and uncharted and I was the explorer.

My landscape photography reflects my interest in exploring what is outside my door and while I enjoy trips to far away places I can find the same wonder in my backyard or neighborhood if I am open to it. I saw this tree on one of my adventures just two miles from my front door, a small oasis almost in town that most people never see in their rush to get from place to place.

At 52, I am still an explorer and still excited at the prospect of treasure. The Vespa is a suitable companion. Longer and more challenging trips are still on my list; a ride to Akron to visit the cemetery where my father was buried, a ride through the Adirondacks, and the king of trips that has haunted me since high school the trip out West. And the Vespa can easily undertake any of them from a mechanical perspective. The question will be “Am I up to it?”.

Consider the trip taken by Walter Muma on his 50cc moped in 1978 from Toronto to Alaska and then into the Northwest Territories past the Arctic Circle to Inuvik. Over 11,000 miles much of it on unpaved road. And on a moped. You can read and see the tale written by Walter here:

1978 Moped Trip

It is worth reading. The only greater adventure would to do it on a bicycle or walk. The Vespa would be unnecessarily luxurious and overpowered. A sign of an overly consumptive society. Fat Vespa riders.

It’s 5:54AM and a balmy 54° F, fine weather for the ride to work. Another day, another adventure.

On the way home yesterday I stopped at the military park near my home. It seemed a fitting time to pause and think about the election underway. At this place I am reminded of one of the paths that those we elect can take us. It’s easy to feel the process and decisions are beyond my influence being in this place helps me glimpse, if only for a moment, that I am part of the whole. Every decision I make has a subtle effect on the outcome of the decision making process of those men and women elected and in the fate of those people affected by those decisions. Like the flap of the butterfly wings that give birth to a hurricane.

It’s dark, raining and 46° F this morning. The Vespa is waiting patiently for me to gather myself together for the ride into work.

It’s that time of year when I face the daily challenge of leaving a warm bed. It’s not a reflection of my desire to ride but simply the hurdle I leap in a run away from comfort. When the alarm goes off at 5:30 AM and the house is cold I want to stay under the covers. It’s 25° F this morning. I’ll gear up shortly and ride to work and smiling while I’m doing it. But oh those transitions….

It happened last night after I got home from work. Sitting on the couch with Kim in a nice warm house and I have to gear up and ride run some errands and go to a meeting. It’s dark and it’s cold and I want to stay where I am. But I made the leap and rode off and was excited to be riding. The picture above was made when I stopped at the local library to pick up a few new books. It reminds me that I love riding and that the cold or night is just another landscape to manage and enjoy.

I came across a Web site for the Underground Terrorist Motorcycle Cult. They have a section of their site titled Snow Riding Bastards. These guys thumb their noses at snow and cold. I bet they don’t suffer the wussy transition reaction I do. Someday I’ll be stronger!

And as the cold settles in this winter the transition gets a bit easier but I probably won’t ever be able to say I look forward to riding out of a warm bed.

I don’t think I’m unique in looking forward to walking through the doors of any kind of establishment engaged in the commerce of motorcycles, scooters and related products. Part of the experience of riding and owning is being able to browse and dream about the machines and accessories that promise to make the riding life complete.

The dominant business model in this industry makes it relatively easy to avoid actually spending money so I should consider myself lucky that I have not encountered the perfect motorcycle dealership. I have visited a variety of large and small, old and new businesses and apart from cosmetic and spatial differences they seem to all conduct themselves in the same manner.

So what exactly is the perfect dealership? After some thought I think the perfect dealership would embrace:

Here are some of the things that the perfect dealership would embrace:

REALISTIC HOURS
I’m not talking about hours that will make the staff happy. I’m talking about hours that will make me happy. I work during the week so I don’t care a whole lot of about what the daytime Monday through Friday hours are. I want the place open when I am not at work and can actually visit the place. I don’t want to see the doors lock at 6PM on weekdays, 5PM on Saturday, and Closed on Sunday. Come on now. You need to be open until at least 10PM every day. Think about the L.L. Bean model in Freeport. Open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. The Perfect Dealership will be open when I am out riding and need to see what kind of CrampBusters they have in stock.

Now some will say that there is no reason for these hours because there is no traffic through the doors. That leads me to the next set of things. You need to make the place welcoming. Give me reasons to come and keep me coming back. Let’s visit the Barnes and Noble model for a moment.

OUR STUFF IS YOUR STUFF
When I go to Barnes and Noble I see people using it like a library. They are reading books and magazines for hours and then walk out the door without spending a cent. The Perfect Motorcycle Dealership won’t have those annoying signs the say “Please Don’t Touch” of “Don’t sit in the Motorcycles”. Instead the big sign on the wall will say “Feel Free to Sit on the Bikes, Start Them Up, Take them For a Ride.” I’ll be able to stop every Sunday afternoon and take something different for a ride and not feel like a pervert for even suggesting it.

RIDER COMFORTS
And lets not stop there. I’m a guest in this establishment and should be treated accordingly. That means a lot of big easy chairs to sit and stare at the bikes. To talk with other riders and just relax or get warm. And the place will have a small cafe to provide for the sustenance necessary to truly appreciate machines and accessories. And wireless Internet access for those riders who want to telecommute and work on projects in a warm and friendly environment. And the place will employ some people who were alive when Truman or Eisenhower was President.

INVENTORY
This perfect place will have an extensive inventory of new and used bikes and scooters, riding gear for all seasons, and well-researched accessories for every machine on the floor. Lots of downright useful gear. Just like L.L. Bean.

I really believe a place like this could make some money. But it will require a long-term vision for success, something sadly lacking in the American business mind. And it will require a cultural leap of faith to stop looking at new motorcycles as precious objects to be worships, polished, lined up, and protected from those who covet them.

So I’ll keep my eyes open for the Perfect Dealership. Maybe one already exists. If so I would love to hear about it. Until then I will have to fulfill a big part of this dream by riding to Barnes and Noble for a cup of tea, chocolate chip cookie, and Rider magazine….