New Wheels in the Sticks

The BMW R1200 RT: Riding a Big Bike

2010-07-05T07:29:00.000-07:00

What’s big? When your everyday ride is a Vespa almost everything seems big. I’ll confess a predjudice towards large motorcycles and share my reactions as I tried out the BMW. The BMW R1200 RT fits neatly into my big motorcycle category with descriptors like heavy, lumbering, cumbersome, overpowered, and expensive. All of them negative and a reflection of my own riding preferences. Even Craig Kissell recognized my bias when he offered me the motorcycle beginning with, “I know this isn’t your style.” That’s the baggage I brought along on this ride.

I tell myself I’m going to be open and fair towards this BMW when I roll it out of my garage on a clear, 40 degree morning (back in early May). After placing my camera, notebook, and map in one of the side cases and checking the bike over I decided to leave my cold weather riding jacket and gloves at home and surrender myself to the protection of this touring machine.

My feelings about big bikes might color my riding expectations, but it does not affect my familiarization routine with a new machine. In a parking area at the end of the street I sit quietly examining the controls, feeling the switches with my thumb, and raising my boots off the ground to experiment with the motorcycle’s balance. It’s what I do. It makes me feel better that I won’t be making that call, “Hey Craig, you know that BMW I’m riding….”

There’s a riding plan in my head but before heading down the road I force myself to practice a few slow speed maneuvers and some braking tests. Nothing dramatic, just enough to feel how the BMW responds.

I plan is to ride north on main roads. Fast, without stops. No meandering down back roads looking for pictures. This time I am going to be a real rider. No frequent stops, just a fast direct route to breakfast 50 miles away.

The R1200 RT is designed to travel. If I had to ride to Montana tomorrow and didn’t have a lot of time this is the kind of motorcycle I would choose to make it a pleasant, comfortable trip. Pleasant and comfortable -- new descriptors.

It’s cold outside. On the Vespa I would have several layers under my cold weather riding jacket, electric gloves, and overpants. At 70mph on a 40 degree morning a person would get pretty cold without protection from the wind. But here I am with a sweater and t-shirt under my mesh summer riding jacket, summer gloves, jeans and boots. The power windshield and cowling keeps me out of the windblast. The heated grips keep my hands toasty and the heated seat, well, let’s just say it’s nice. By the time the thermometer reaches 55 I have shed the sweater. I could see riding this motorcycle until the snow flies.

I make the 50-mile trip to breakfast in record time with only one stop to take a picture. The BMW is smooth and the faster you go the smoother is seems to get. It feels luxurious. I add smooth and luxurious to my list.

No one passed me and when I joined the four-lane section of US 220 BMW traveled at speeds my Vespa could only dream about. Did I mention the R1200 RT has cruise control?

After a hearty breakfast at the Restless Oaks Restaurant near McElhattan, Pennsylvania I pointed the bike north towards Mansfield 70 miles away.

The BMW does a bit of deception when it comes to speed. The wind protection, power, and smooth ride give the impression that you aren’t traveling as fast as your actually are. On a stretch of US 15 I glanced at the speedometer and saw 80mph. I would have sworn to the State Police that I was going 60. No wonder I was passing everyone.

On the high points of US 15 just south of Mansfield I hit some heavy crosswinds. The bike's big profile would seem to make it a perfect target for some serious buffeting but the R1200 RT tracked along well after scrubbing off some speed. Pretty impressive considering how badly some other bikes I have ridden performed in crosswinds. I add stable to my list. I don’t want to add impressive yet.

I think about the motorcycle during a stop to stretch my legs and make a few pictures. I’m beginning to understand what a touring bike is about and why someone would want one. Everything works smoothly to deliver a great ride on the highway. It’s got plenty of power, lots of storage and storage potential, and plenty of features to extend a rider’s comfort range. Things like electronic suspension adjustment and integrated ABS brakes. What do I love? The big display that tells me what gear I am in. Now you know where I’m coming from technically.

After a stop for fuel along US 6 (I didn’t check the fuel economy) I headed into Wellsboro for a quick look around. Thirty-six years ago I regularly traveled through this area in a 1970 VW Beetle as I made routine trips from State College to northern Tioga County. The BMW is a far better way to travel than that old bug.

Just a few hours on this motorcycle and I had to reevaluate my early expectations. It doesn’t seem large and I was impressed at how easy it was to handle. It wasn’t cumbersome though you do have to pay attention to what you are doing, especially doing very slow maneuvers or pushing the bike around for parking. If something stupid is going to happen that’s where I’ll place my bet. Several times I caught myself saying, “This BMW is pretty nimble.” I’m not adding nimble to the list.

I make a stop for water and chocolate at the Pierce General Store in Morris, Pennsylvania. It’s nice to go into a place that doesn’t have dozens of other stores just like it. Standing outside I was considering routes home. There’s always a choice in Pennsylvania – the simple direct route and the rider route that is twice as far and four times as scenic.

I choose the latter and turn off PA 287 onto PA 414 towards Blackwell and many miles of narrow, twisting road along Pine Creek.

When asked “Why do you ride?” I think about places like this. Lightly traveled roads through the forests and mountains of north central Pennsylvania where my spirit and thoughts are free to wander unencumbered by the more serious nature of work and responsibility. And there is so much to see. My desire to see the landscape is, in part, why larger motorcycles don’t fit easily into my riding world.

With more powerful motorcycles I find I ride faster more often and I just see less. Over 30mph and you just miss the details of a place. Traveling fast requires a lot of attention to the road because things happen so fast. You just can’t pay attention to the landscape around you as well. And I’m much less inclined to stop and inspect things because of the work involved making U-turns, parking and getting on and off a big bike. But that’s me.

I did stop and turn around to look at this cable car linking this side of the road to a cabin across the creek. Lot’s of nice little cabins in this part of the state.

The road is narrow, high crowned with almost no shoulder. I feel as if the bike isn’t tracking well through the broken, uneven curves and turns. This is no place to cross the center line or drop off the side of the road. I ratchet up my attention and think again of the need to practice on a new motorcycle. It’s the first time my lack of experience with the bike is apparent.

I’m stopping a lot now to look around and take pictures. This time as I cross Pine Creek. I’m feeling the lack of flexibility in my legs and hips as I swing my leg up and over the side cases and seat of the BMW for the 20th time. While the bike is designed for comfort it was never intended for the stop, start, and stop again riding routine I can get into.

Just to make sure you understand what I’m talking about, I may stop 6 times in one mile and spend 20 minutes looking around. It’s a wonder I ever get anywhere at all.

The road moves in and out of the forest as it tracks along above Pine Creek. I never tire of this part of Pennsylvania.

Crossing into a new county the road surface changes. Amazing what planning and cash can do for a road.

This is the first BMW I’ve ridden with a boxer style engine. It seems to have great low and medium speed torque and power and shifts as smoothly as anything I’ve ridden. It’s easy to understand why the BMW has developed a mystic among its riding community.

At another bridge I’ve been on and off the bike for over four hours and aside from the soreness related to swinging my leg over the bike I am remarkably relaxed and comfortable. Had I been heading to Montana I would be approaching the Ohio-Indiana border with plenty of energy to ride on to Chicago and beyond before bedtime.

On one stretch of road along the creek it was nice having a windshield as I plowed through swarms of insects. I was nice not having to stop and clean off my face shield.

One final stop at Ross Siding and I made the decision to put the camera away and head home. Directly. I’m 70 miles from home and just enjoyed the ride on the BMW R1200 RT.

With the bike sitting in the driveway I imagined the kinds of rides I could make. Long day rides, weekend rides, or extended tours. The BMW R1200 RT would be ready for any of them. For my choppy, start and stop, pictures first, riding second style it would not be the best bet. But for many riders this motorcycle would be heaven.

The BMW F650 GS: A Crisis of Confidence

2010-05-02T21:12:00.001-07:00

I feel guilty. It’s been over a month since I returned this BMW to Kissell Motorsports. It’s taken equally long to write this post. I knew I had to put something down here, so I began with an image I remembered: stopping, pulling off my gloves and walking across the road to take this picture. I was uncomfortable. Like Wayne and Garth from Wayne’s World when they meet Aerosmith in their basement, I could hear my mind crying, “I’m not worthy.” I looked at this brand new BMW and felt like an imposter.

A mini-crisis of faith flickered to life.

I’d been warned. More than one dedicated BMW rider suggested something would happen if I rode one. A slight smile and oblique reference to some strange BMW voodoo. Hints that, once I put some miles on one of these machines, I’d be hooked. Thoughts of my friend Alex joining the Hare Krishna in 1973 came to mind. The usual music that plays in my head when I ride wasn’t there. All was quiet on the riding front.

I’m still not sure I can adequately describe what transpired, but I need to get past this post.

The BMW F650 GS looks at home in the central Pennsylvania landscape. On this bike, I began to think about the hierarchy of riders I’ve closeted away in some small place in my head. At the bottom, minibikes, mopeds and electric bicycles. At the top, those riders who regularly transverse countries and continents. The movie Long Way Round, with Charlie Boorman and Ewan McGregor circling the planet on their BMWs.

Was this really what I believed?

None of this would have occurred if the F650 GS wasn’t a fine, elegant machine. From the moment I heard the engine turn over to the moment I put down the kickstand, returning it to Kissell’s, I was impressed. This bike was well-designed, functional, powerful and smooth. I had nothing to complain about.

Well, almost nothing.

Starting out on a test ride with the thermometer reading 20 degrees Fahrenheit may not be the best way to critique a motorcycle. I’ve convinced myself that cold is a state of mind, and if attired correctly and focused properly on the task at hand (riding this shiny new motorcycle), the cold will melt away. So confident I was that I dismissed the need for my electric gloves (Gerbing plug wouldn’t fit the BMW port) in favor of the BMW’s heated grips.

A mile from home I feel a knife push on the side of my neck where the air found a gap between my helmet and ski mask. Another flow of frigid air inflates my one-piece Olympia riding suit, as air sneaks past the top of my left boot and on up my leg. The sun is out and I tell myself this is temporary. The instrument display still reads 20F. I switch on the heated grips.

Smooth comes to mind as I move down the road at 60mph. From the sound of the starter to the tires rolling on the highway, everything is really smooth. Shifting, cornering, braking. As if this BMW was designed purely to carry a rider along with a minimum of reminders of mechanical intrusion. I could focus on the experience rather than the machine. I think I was smiling.

Then my first minor complaint. An adjustment, really. I have to make a right turn and my left thumb automatically searches for the turn signal button. Returning to mechanical reality, my mind overcomes muscle memory and pushes the right-hand signal paddle next to the throttle. Unlike other motorcycles I’ve driven, which have one switch that operates the signal for both right and left turns, BMW’s are unique in having separate switches for each side. But by the end of that first hour of riding, the turn signal system is set in muscle memory, and it’s no longer an issue. That was the only mechanical stumble I had.

Well, almost.

Fifteen miles from home, it’s still 20F and my hands are getting cold. I am really disappointed with the heated grips. No help at all. I pull off the road to park so I can warm my hands on the exhaust system. I put my hands next to the muffler and see it is well-shielded and gives off no heat. The headlights are recessed a bit and hard to get your hands on, so no relief there either. So I just wait awhile for my hands to warm a bit inside my gloves. The sun is shining so it seems fine.

This BMW is quick. With little effort it seems to be instantly traveling 75mph. I slow down and before long notice a farm lane, more my style and speed. Ice still covers waterholes and I make a mental note so the bright sun and dry roads don’t surprise me.

The ground in this field is hard. Frozen. If this wasn’t a brand-new motorcycle belonging to someone else, I’d ride across this big field to see where I’d end up. The F650 GS seems as if it would be just as comfortable off-the-pavement.

Cold hands force another stop by a red barn. Or maybe I stopped because I wanted a picture. While sitting on the motorcycle, pondering the switch for the heated grips, it occurs to me I’m not the sharpest crayon in the box. Apologies to BMW for any adverse inference about their technology. It was a minor miracle when I realized I had never actually switched the grips on. On maximum my hands were toasty in a matter of minutes. Verdict: Heated grips coupled with a pair of insulated leather or windproof gloves would probably be all I’d need for temperatures down to the mid-20s.

The BMW eats up the road. It’s no wonder so many BMW riders pile on so many miles. It’s just so easy. Pennsylvania has a lot of roads that reach out ahead with little traffic and endless sights. I’ve spent my whole life wandering in one manner or another, and I’m still in love with this landscape.

Back to the crisis of faith. Last Saturday morning, my friend Paul and I went for a ride. This time on my Vespa. The usual excuse to have breakfast somewhere other than home. We made a stop at the Amish harness shop in Madisonburg. While there, a guy pulled in on a motorcycle obviously configured for travel. You know the look – big Pelican waterproof cases on both sides and top, all those little extras that say “I’m headed somewhere.” And in riding clothes that reflect a lot of time on the road. In the back of my head, I’m already thinking I’m not really a rider, but an enthusiastic dilettante with a scooter.

During the ensuing conversation, the rider relates his plans to leave in a few weeks for a trip to Alaska with a friend. Sixteen thousand miles and six weeks on the road. Listening to him describe his trip, I’m simultaneously calculating vacation days at work and conversations with Kim that contain the phrase “I’ll be gone for six weeks.”

I can’t picture that trip. I’m not sure I would even want to make that trip. The F650 GS could easily make that trip. Before leaving, the guys says he put 97K miles on his other bike in the last four years. And his friend has 240K miles on his bike. I was too embarassed to make a picture.

I’m not worthy.

Looking around in the woods for morel mushrooms, I can’t help but wonder who these people are that ride so much. Don’t they have jobs? Families? Responsibilities? I wonder if I’m jealous. Mostly I’m perplexed about my own riding life. And this BMW I have to play with.

I love riding alone and this motorcycle embraces it perfectly. Riding through the mountains here I’m reminded of scenes from Then Came Bronson. He rode a Harley, but what mattered is a person on a bike, alone, and on the road. This is why I ride. How far is of less importance. There are myriad paths for a rider to follow, literally and figuratively, and my challenge is to figure out how riding fits into my life. Riding is part of my life. A quiet time-out. A meditation. But it isn’t my life.

There were a lot of paths I would have liked to choose, but time and good sense got in the way. I really wanted to ride across this bridge and up into the woods on the other side. I knew, like a faithful horse, the F650 GS would take me.

The crisis of faith triggered by this motorcycle stirred up all the stories, lies, and marketing messages I have consumed over the years. If I wasn’t crossing Mongolia or screaming through an Alpine pass, I was somehow missing something important. I was forgetting who I am as a rider, in favor of some idealized notion.

The BMW was at home in town as well, which is something I can’t say for every motorcycle I’ve ridden. The bike is nimble and easily navigates the streets, alleys and parking spaces around here. Well, I suppose you don't have to be all that nimble in a small town.

Add side bags or a topcase and this bike would be an excellent commuter. BMWs are allowed to be commuter bikes during the week aren't they?

So, here I am, at the end of this post. I wish I’d kept the bike longer. I considered telling Craig Kissell I lost it but that seemed wrong. If I had more time I would have gone on a real ride. Far. Take a trip. I could go anywhere on this motorcycle. Alaska didn't seem unreasonable for a few moments.

But for now, I’m satisfied with the choices I’ve made and the riding I do. This BMW will adapt to my style, or for someone who wants to ride around the world.

I bet there is space in my garage for one of these.

Trying Out a New BMW F 650 GS

2010-03-26T18:42:00.000-07:00

The time has arrived to check out one of the new BMW motorcycles at Kissell Motorsports. I was going to wait until the weather was a bit warmer but when Craig Kissell send an email asking when I was going to take a GS for a ride what could I do? So I am starting with a BMW F 650 GS. This one is brand new. Zero miles on the odometer. I get nervous being the first one to take something out on the road. But who am I to complain? A quick check of the bike and the controls revealed a big difference from the usual tools on my Vespa. This bike has ABS brakes, heated grips, built in port for electrics, and a lot more.

I didn't really have time for any riding today. Just a less than direct ride home from work with a few stops to check out the motorcycle. The turn signals took a couple of practice runs to reprogram my brain from the one button all function switch on the Vespa to the three button self canceling function of the BMW. A smarter person could make the adjustment on the road. I had to pull over and look at the controls for everything to make sense. A little side trip up a gravel road did the trick. This motorcycle is smooth, quiet, and seems to pull no matter what speed I'm traveling or what gear I'm in. My kind of performance.

Home appeared too quickly. I stopped the motorcycle at the end of the driveway being cautious with this shiny new machine. On the Vespa I would have zipped right between our cars and on to the garage.

I'm planning an early departure tomorrow despite the weather forecast calling for 20F at daybreak. And since my Gerbing electric gloves have the wrong connector I won't be able to plug them in. So I will have a chance to try out heated grips. And if all else fails I can cozy up to the big shiny muffler.

I'm excited. I can tell. For the next few days I am a BMW rider.

The Triumph Tiger

2010-02-15T19:14:00.001-08:00

Snow’s falling again and I’m daydreaming about the road and the Triumph Tiger I was riding back in late November. The last motorcycle of the 2009 season with temperatures hovering in the mid 40s the memory of that motorcycle fresh. And tempting. The Tiger story’s been hibernating in my brain all winter. Now may be the right time to revisit the prowl. Thanks to Craig Kissell of Kissell Motorsports I have the opportunity to ride such fine motorcycles.

The Tiger is sleek, powerful, and tall – at least in terms of getting onto the bike. With the hard side cases attached I needed to make a real effort to mount up without scuffing things up with my boots. On dicey terrain I didn’t want to step up on the pegs either. Some flexibility work would definitely be in order before I could bound onto the back of the Triumph. Once onboard the sense of height was gone.

With excellent planning I always seem to ride before breakfast. As much as I wanted to head out into the Moshannon Forest my stomach was making a stronger argument as I headed over the mountain towards Unionville. It doesn’t take long to realize how sweet the Triumph Tiger is. Everything about it is smooth – the ride, the transmission, the brakes. And the torque it puts out allows it to pull hard at just about any speed and any gear. Definitely a plus for a tourist like me who likes to wander and not be overly concerned with the workings of the machine I am riding. Coming down the mountain into Unionville I was pleased at how well the Tiger holds the road in a hairpin turn. I’m no racer but I’m sure this bike could fly through the curves if I made a request.

Railroad tracks strike a wandering chord in me. Looking at them vanish in the distance has me wanting to explore. What’s out there, over the next hill, around the next corner? It’s a big part of what riding is for me. The Triumph would be happy to come along and take me anywhere I want to go.

The Tiger is a nice looking machine. Even in a rush to get breakfast I couldn’t help buy admire it. This bike could take me to a lot of breakfast places. I can see myself in the northern reaches of the Adirondacks, or south along the Blue Ridge Parkway. Or in front of a diner in Utah. Alas, if I only had the time.

The Unionville Café is a good, solid breakfast place. Any riders passing through the area will find a place to relax and eat. It’s always nice to stop when it’s cold outside. There are times when I get warm I don’t feel like climbing back on the motorcycle and facing the elements. This wasn’t one of them.

The road out of Unionville towards Moshannon State Park is a clean, winding road climbing up to the Allegheny Plateau. The Triumph Tiger could race to the top if good sense didn’t govern the throttle. I’ve been up this way many times on a variety of machines. I just never got there quite so fast before.

Central Pennsylvania is blessed with endless miles of roads that no one seems to use much. Concern for other motorist’s fade as I find myself more concerned with bear, deer, and dogs.

Local forest roads come in two varieties – paved and gravel. A path heading off the main road is hard to resist. While more aggressive tires might be a nice addition for some riding the stock tires on the Tiger were easily up to the choices I made. With so much natural gas drilling and timber cutting underway there are a lot of places to explore.

Riding along a road more packed dirt and sand than gravel I began to worry that the heavy, grey sky would begin to release rain. With little desire to return a mud covered big to the dealership I returned to solid ground. But it was hard to resist the siren’s song of those long, winding, dirt roads.

Many of the smaller roads are uneven, the pavement heaved and twisted from the harsh winters. The suspension of the Tiger doesn’t blink.

There comes a time in almost every ride I make where I am not sure where I’m going. Riding down through some of the thickest growth of rhodendron I’ve ever seem I thought I might head towards Snow Shoe and a different kind of landscape. By this time I have been crisscrossing the region for most of the morning and was aware of how comfortable the seating position, seat, and handlebar position is on the Triumph Tiger.

A course correction and another little traveled road leads me to lost. The tank has plenty of fuel so I’m not too worried. I can’t remember exactly where this place was or whether I was crossing the West Branch of the Susquehanna River or Red Moshannon Creek. Lost is a gift in my book. And the reason why I’m not too keen on GPS. There ‘s something magical about being lost. And in the East, you seldom get that opportunity.

I eventually passed through Snow Shoe and headed off the plateau towards home. This little red and green building, some sort of remnant of the coal mining in the area just called out for a picture.

I had the option of trying the Tiger on Interstate 80 and see how it prowled along with the 18-wheelers. Passing on the freeway option I found more interesting roads that allowed me the chance to put the Triumph through some performance paces. Acceleration, check. Braking, check. Fun, check.

Tired, cold, and still not ready to take the Tiger home I make one last run along the rolling hills leading up to the Allegheny Plateau. Standing in the corn stubble and looking at the motorcycle and the valleys beyond I feel lucky that I am a rider. Being out here with the day fading and the temperature dropping is not what most riders strive for. But the spirit of adventure is something a lot of riders have in common. It feels good to stand up straight and take in the world. With this motorcycle I could take in a lot of places.

Until those rides come along I had to be content prowling home on the Triumph Tiger and hoping winter would not be too long or severe.

Triumph Thunderbird Conversion

2009-10-30T05:05:00.000-07:00

In my dreams the road goes on forever.

I gravitate towards empty roads and places off the beaten path. Standing in the middle of old Route 220, once a place of pandemonium and aggressive drivers, I feel at home. And also a bit surprised at how A few weeks ago I sat on a motorcycle outside Kissell Motorsports. I found myself at the beginning of an unexpected conversion. A dedicated Vespa rider enthralled with a big cruising bike. The Triumph Thunderbird.

It's been almost a month since I had the Thunderbird. Enough time to sort out feelings and reactions to the biggest, heaviest motorcycle I've ridden in a long time. I expected a slow, lumbering, unresponsive ride. What I found was a remarkably nimble and easy to handle machine. The engineers at Triumph would probably cringe to read what I am about to say -- I found myself thinking more than once "This feels like my Vespa.". With the Triumph Thunderbird sitting along the road while I try and figure out the best angles for photographs it looks nothing like a Vespa.

I left early one morning for what would become a hundred mile short ride. Patches of fog were scattered through the valley producing areas of limited visibility and wet pavement. While making this picture I noticed the prominence of the exhaust system. Big pipes for the big almost 100 cubic inch parallel twin engine produce a deep rumble. Not too loud and not at all obnoxious. Something I can't say about most of the big cruisers that pass through my neighborhood, especially the ones that operate between 2am and 7am. Moving mechanical obnoxious alarm clocks. But I digress.

The exhaust tone of the Thunderbird reminds me of the growl of a big, mean dog. You know he's big and he does too. No need for any barking.

I confess limited experience on big cruisers. Or anything with two wheels weighing close to 750 pounds. Call me crazy but I always take new bikes to some empty parking lot for some experimentation. Not to see what the bike can do but to determine how little I know. The Mount Nittany Middle School has a nice big lot that supports all sorts of turns, swerves, quick braking, U-turns and anything else you might want to try. In less than 30 minutes imagined myself comfortable and at home on the Triumph. A quick stop for a picture in the fog and I was off to meet my friend Larry for breakfast.

Anyone who's followed Scooter in the Sticks knows a lot of my riding is slow-paced and riddled with numerous stops for pictures. A motorcycle has to be easy to manuever, run smoothly at slow speeds, and allow for quick on and offs. The Thunderbird engine and transmission produced extremely smooth riding at any speed, was agile at even the slowest speeds, and was simple to park almost anywhere. Stopped to photograph a tunnel of trees in the fog I was wondering if the Triumph and I would be a good fit. With the addition of some saddle bags for my camera and gear I could ride this machine anywhere.

A lot of riders don't understand the slow traveling part of riding. They want to get somewhere fast, ride along with a group, or just can't get their head or their hand to agree to speeds that are more akin to bicycle riding. But once the speedometer passes 25mph it is amazing how hard it is to react to things in the landscape. I might just be slow in the head but by the time my brain recognizes something of interest it's already behind me at higher speeds. And I resist turning around just to look or take a picture. I was sitting on the Thunderbird at about 30mph when I noticed the fog strewn across the farm. I don't want to miss this stuff.

I was getting hungry but still would stop to examine some odd detail along the road. The road surface was wet from an early fog but the Thunderbird offered no trouble or complaints as I moved along. The riding position on this bike was near perfect for me. An upright seating position, bars that were wide and just right for me, and foot pegs that seemed to be exactly where my body thought they should be. Both rear footbrake and shifter lever were easy to find and use. Something I can't say for every bike I've ridden where they seem small and hard to manage with the standard issue scooter clod hoppers I wear courtesy of Wolverine Boots.

Fog strouded the Sunset West Diner in Pleasant Gap. It looked like something out of Twin Peaks. Very odd. The Triumph looked appropriate in the lot. It is a handsome motorcycle. Triumph does an outstanding job of producing machines with classic lines. For anyone wanting a big cruiser with elegant lines and complete functionality this is worth looking at. Twice.

Fat and happy from my standard breakfast fare it was time to see how the Thunderbird performed in it's more traditional role as a highway cruiser. Jump on Interstate 99, twist the throttle and watch the needle on the speedometer leap to 80 in no time. All similarities to my Vespa evaporate on the freeway. With so much power, torque, and a smooth, stable ride at any speed I was willing to travel. Even the windblast in my chest seemed stable.

Central Pennsylvania is a beautiful place to ride. The views along the highway can, at times, be breathtaking. Looking at the Triumph I can easily imagine riding it anywhere in America.

The single guage on the tank is a model of simple design and complex function. In addition to the big speedometer a button on the right-hand grip allowed me to toggle through a variety of functions like fuel level, mileage remaining, clock, trip meter and more. And there was a readout for RPMs too but I wasn't concerned about that. Between the engine sound and it's ability to pull at any speed in any gear I didn't pay much attention to how fast things were spinning around. I was just having a fine time riding.

The big gas tank was easy to put fuel in. Not something I would normally notice but for some reason it seemed easier to see what was happening as I added. With all these new bikes I worry about splashing gas all over pristine paint and chrome. Not a worry with this bike.

I stopped to visit with the Nittany Road Riders who were taking part in Chris Kepler's 7th Annual Pennsylvania Grand Canyon Ride. The Thunderbird was the lone cruiser in the group but I'm certain it would have no problems keeping up. I found myself wishing I could go along but duty called another direction.

Around town the Triumph Thunderbird continues to excel. Up and down alleys, backing into parking spaces, making U-turns -- whatever I asked the bike to do it complied without complaint. Or perhaps I should say my skills did. With solid riding skills on a small scooter or motorcycle the transition to the Thunderbird is simple. My limits were apparent and areas to practice more were as well.

I rode the Triumph to work on the last day I had it. Backing through a gap between a pickup truck and another bike and into one of the motorcycle spaces was far easier than I would have expected. Standing there before going to my office I wondered how I could have dismissed any interest in a cruiser style motorcycle. I had ridden them before. I can remember riding a Harley back in the 1970s. Maybe that was the problem. This wasn't the 70s and this bike was a 2010 Triumph Thunderbird.

I've been converted. There is a place in my garage for the Thunderbird. Figuratively speaking.

Ducati HyperMotard: Engineering Meets the Beginners Mind

2009-09-18T14:21:00.001-07:00

I knew the HyperMotard was different by the way Craig Kissell was carefully describing how to best operate and ride the bike. Other employees and even one of the technicians weighed in with their opinions and stories of life on this particular Ducati. By the time I left Kissell Motorsports I had a list of cautions and riding procedures. I wasn't sure if this was standard operating procedure for anyone going out the door with a Ducati or if they felt this scooter rider might be in over his head. Whatever the reason for the first time I climbed onto a motorcycle nervous and uncertain of my skill. Anxious as if I were climbing aboard a Thoroughbred racehorse after years of pleasure riding on a gentle old mare.

Pausing along the road to look at the bike and make a few pictures I was reminded of the grace and power of this motorcycle. I was also reminded of my riding skill and experience and my habit of beginning slow. A beginners mind.

Ducati makes fine motorcycles. It only took a few moments to appreciate the engineering and craftsmanship that work together to create an avid following of riders. After familiarizing myself with the handling of the HyperMotard before sunrise in the parking lot of the Pennsylvania Military Museum I pulled over along a small gravel drive to make a photograph of the evaporating fog under a setting moon.

The Ducati is a powerful motorcycle. At 390 pounds and 90 horsepower it wants to go. Craig warned me that this is not a cruising bike and would complain when the RPMs dropped below 3000 rpm in the wrong gear. The Hypermotard just didn't feel right going slow and I could sense myself wanting to go faster. Definitely not designed for putting along looking for the next picture.

Fast traveling on roads like US 322 is simple. Turn the throttle and the Ducati leaps forward. Developing a sensitive touch on the throttle took a little practice. It's easy to imagine an inexperienced rider having trouble. A bit too much throttle and the bike feels as if it is trying to eject you backwards onto the road. Panic a bit and grab tight on the bars may only succeed in turning the throttle more and making matters worse. Years of careful control of power on my Vespa kept me in the safe zone.

To be completely honest I was nervous riding the HyperMotard, nervous beyond any passing thoughts of dropping an expensive new motorcycle dodging a chipmunk or some other unfortunate riding incident. On this bike I was concerned with the sheer power and how to manage it with the tools I have in my own riding experience toolbox. One thing frequent stops to make pictures does is to give a person a chance to assess what is going on. During this stop I realized I needed to apply the basics, all those simple skills and techniques that have served me well to manage risk. I may not be a beginner in terms of miles under my belt but I try to stay close to a beginners mind and show the respect a motorcycle and riding demands.

Appreciation of the landscape and a desire to capture it on film (you know what I mean) has that unintentional effect of slowing me down. I can't see the little details if I am flying down the road. It does indicate to me that control of the machine is only one part of the equation. Control of myself and the choices I make are just as important. Riding the Ducati I felt a constant pressure to go faster. The temptation is strong.

As empty as this road looks I have been surprised by geese, ducks, deer, dogs and fisherman appearing out of nowhere. I've passed many riders whose pace far outstrips my own faith that the fellow coming the other direction will do his part not to mention the critters who don't know there is a part to play.

I seem to be standing in or alongside the road more than traveling on it. While fishing the camera out of my riding jacket I heard a truck coming down the road and rounded this corner taking his lane out of the center of the road. When I photographed the red truck he was doing a bit better but not much. The HyperMotard thrives on diving into curves. It's here I have to balance what the bike and I can do against what seems prudent. We all set that line differently. The difference between my Vespa and the Ducati is how the more powerful machine seems to tempt a person towards the edge.

Just so I don't seem like a complete milktoast rider I did push the Ducati where it seemed prudent to do so. And after a couple hours of riding I felt as home on the bike as I do on my scooter. I had tested the brakes in a range of conditions and panic stops and I have to say that compared to anything I've ridden the front brakes on the Ducati startling in how they bite. I worked a bit to become accustomed to them just in case I needed to take advantage of all that stopping power.

At the end of the day I remain a tourist on two-wheels. Speed and performance are lost on me. My habits on the road find other traits more desireable. Still, the HyperMotard was smooth, powerful, and just an elegant piece of mechanical engineering. And given the right locations, skills and circumstances you could really have fun with one of these. I'm sure if Joe Paterno was a rider he would be running to get one.

The Ducati HyperMotard is fast and fun. Those two elements are a challenge to keep under control. If those things appeal to you, if you think you can't handle the potential at your fingertips then the Ducati may be the right motorcycle. For me, it offers too much and I fear my mind may be too weak to manage this bike responsibly. Besides, where would I carry my tripod?

Or in a couple months a Christmas tree??

Vespa GTS 300: The Town and Country Ride

2009-09-05T20:45:00.000-07:00

That's me examining the Vespa GTS300 Super.

Going through some additional pictures recently it occurred to me (again) that this scooter is an exceptional, all-around vehicle for town and country riding. My own Vespa GTS 250ie is near perfect for daily commuting to work and for weekend rides in the 50 to 200 miles range so it was hard to imagine any real advantages of the newer and bigger scooter. But the extra power makes this Vespa a perfect town and country ride.

Anyone who has piloted a big motorcycle around town, pulling into parking spaces, running a quick errand, and repeating the process half a dozen times knows how tedious it can be to roll a heavy bike into a parking space. They aren't always as nice and open as the one in the picture above. The Vespa is so easy to maneuver that you can easily get the scooter into any available space with little effort. The only easier mode of transport in town would be a bicycle. Unfortunately I've never had as much fun on a bicycle as I do on a scooter.

The 300 isn't too big and it isn't too small. It's just right and easily blends into the urban and town environment. I appreciate the ease of stopping and putting the Vespa on the centerstand for pictures. Pop the seat open, grab a camera and go. That translates easily into a wide range of errands.

I've like the way a Vespa looks. The lines and styling almost make the scooter seem like a sculpture rather than something to ride. It makes a fine subject for pictures.

I took the Vespa through local streets and alleys, stopping and starting, parking, moving, U-turns, everything I could think of to try and find a maneuver that was just plain irritating. Verdict-- my only complaint was the absence of the rear rack and side bar that is standard with the GTS250. I like having the handle to hold onto when I throw the scooter up on the center stand.

You hear a lot about people noticing motorcycles and scooters. My experience is that those already interested in riding or machines may pause or ask a question. Everyone else, like the woman in the picture, passes by without a glance. Civilians don't seem much interested in two-wheeled machines. She does provide compositional balance to the picture as the Vespa stands illegally on the sidewalk in Calder Alley.

Out of town, on winding tree lined roads that climb over the mountains of central Pennsylvania this big Vespa goes as fast as any touring rider would want to go. While no road racer it's power and acceleration are surprising. For weekend rides through the country, rides in the 150 to 250 mile range are no problem on the Vespa 300 (or the 150 or 25o for that matter). My friend Paul shot this picture of me riding up the Unionville Pike.

On the way home I passed a BMW RT1100 sitting at a light as I passed through the intersection. I thought it might be my friend Dan so I pulled off the road and waited. Years ago Dan had a Vespa with a sidecar but now he's on a more luxurious ride. Sure enough he pulls up and we have a chance to compare notes between his BMW and the Vespa. Most people don't picture two machines as different as these as possible riding partners. They are completely different with different strengths and weaknesses but for an occasional, rleaxed weekend ride through the country there is no reasons these two can't play together fine.

The Vespa really isn't as small as it looks in this picture. Looks can be deceiving. Scooters are functional and useful. They may not be able to rocket you down the road at 100mph but the Vespa 300 will fly along all day on the roads of this region without a complaint --- in town or in the country.

Demystifying the Piaggio MP3

2009-08-26T12:43:00.000-07:00

Craig Kissell suggested I take the Piaggio MP3-250 for the weekend. He must sense what I am ready to ride. Or ready to accept. So far each motorcycle or scooter has been a sort of minor revelation. The only problem I see having developed is that the next time I visit Kissell Motorsports I am going to want to try the MP3-400 and 500. (Note to Craig: Please reserve one of those big MP3's for me please)

From the first time I read about the Piaggio MP3 I began collecting a series of misperceptions. Until I finally had a chance to take it for a long ride last weekend I didn't realize how completely I misunderstood this machine. I was wrong about how it worked, about why someone might choose one, and most of all about the stability of the MP3.

Stability. Looking at the extra front wheel I assumed the MP3 would have superior stability. It does. On the road the thing feels glued to the road. On rough pavement or gravel you almost don't notice any change with both wheels independently navigating what comes along. In turns the MP3 leans smoothly like a two-wheeled vehicle but has the advantage of an extra wheel and suspension system to keep things surprisingly surefooted. Riding along PA Route 45 at 60mph the MP3 didn't flinch in the air blast of passing trucks. Two-wheeled motorcycles and scooters can be buffeted about badly in situations like that but the MP3 was solid and did not seem inclined to be blown off it's chosen course. Nice. Very nice.

So where was I wrong about stability? I was wrong in my expectations of how stable the MP3 would be at slow speeds--I believed it would not easily fall over. I feel stupid admitting this but in my head the MP3 was going to be my ride of choice in old age when my legs were weak and balance fading because the MP3 would stand up by itself. After all you can lock the front wheels in the upright position and it won't fall over. To reinforce my perceptions I look to a trip by two gentleman in their 70s across America on MP3s sponsored by Piaggio. You can see the results on the Web site No Age Limit.

This idea of stability went so far in my head that I even considered the MP3 a suitable first ride for my wife rather than having her learn the more difficult process of riding on two wheels. What can I say? I was wrong. I'm an idiot. Just follow along a bit and I'll explain.

I planned to meet my friend Paul in town and ride to some exotic breakfast location as part of a ritualistic riding habit. Coming up Calder Alley on a Saturday morning means you will be faced with trucks blocking your progress as they unload their wares. The MP3 travels unimpeded past them and allows me to stop in the middle of the road for a picture. When you stop you can lock the front wheels with a touch of a button. A blinking yellow light becomes a constant yellow informing you that the wheels are now locked and the MP3 will stand up all by itself. As you slow down to stop the blinking light comes on the moment you are traveling slow enough to lock the wheels. With a bit of practice and coordination you can engage the lock without ever putting your feet down.

For an experienced rider used to balancing at slow speeds and manipulating a variety of controls it's a pretty simple process. But for a new or inexperienced rider it just gets confusing. Do it wrong and you are sitting there thinking the wheels are locked and they aren't and down you go. And even if you do have them locked don't touch the throttle. A little inadvertent twist automatically disengages the lock and if you are moving---down you go. I've read about lot's of new MP3 owners dropping their new machines. I could never understand this until I took one for a ride.

My advice--don't touch the wheel locking button at all until your are completely comfortable riding the MP3 without it. Then introduce the wheel lock.

Paul and I left and after a bit of waffling on my part in terms of route we headed south out of town with plans to travel over Pine Grove Mountain. Fog was heavy in part of the valley and one of the less traveled routes out of town was closed for construction. As I stopped at the Road Closed sign Paul swung past me on his BMW and disappeared in the fog on the other side of the sign. So I twisted the throttle on the MP3 and introduced it to life as a scofflaw. Fortunately there were no pits to fall into. Just a smoothly graded bed of gravel awaiting truckloads of asphalt. The MP3 was unfazed by the gravel.

By the time we were over the mountain and traveling along the backroads I was completely enamoured by the MP3. The 249cc engine had plenty of power for these roads. Choosing one of the bigger MP3s, the 400 or 500, would expand performance and make freeway riding simple.

Paul and I stopped for breakfast just east of Huntingdon along US Route 22 at the Side Street Cafe and Deli. It's hidden off the road and not easy to see. I caught it out of the corner of my eye as we rode by and made a point to turn around and see what fare the local eatery offered.

No surprises at breakfast other than the prices. Low. Paul wondered aloud how they could stay in business. I didn't care to have that question answered and focused on enjoying the bounty provided.

For me a big part of the enjoyment of riding is discovery. Sometimes things about myself but more often new places I've not visited before. We managed to find a narrow road running through gaps in the mountains that offered little traffic, mostly fresh pavement, and a chance to see a lot of natural scenery. The kind of things that can recharge my battery.

I suppose the search isn't the same for everyone. While I looked for new views and scenery Paul searched for a cell signal for his iPhone. Different strokes.

Looking at the picture above I'm not sure what I miss more as I write. Being out in the world or riding the MP3. Despite having a lot of ideas dispelled when it came to this Piaggio product I quickly became comfortable with this scooter and found myself imagining life with this being the only ride available. While I like a lot of things I wasn't finding myself upset at the prospect. There is a lot to like about the MP3 as a machine to support recreational rides and as a daily commuting and transportation ride. It's superior stability on the road is a big advantage in my mind as I think about gravel, manure, rain, snow and other elements working against traction on the road. And the locking front wheels I at first thought of as a safety hazard and then a novelty now seems useful in a variety of ways, not the least of which is how it affords quick dismounts for taking pictures.

The Piaggio MP3 is a completely functional machine. The instrument cluster shows a lot of information including a variety of digital displays available at a touch of a button. Add to that the generous built in storage capacity and my scooter hauling abilities suddenly seem anemic.

And it's styling and looks has started to grow on me. While it doesn't look like a motorcycle or scooter it embodies the best handling of them both. And it's definitely worth a look especially if you are looking for an all purpose machine.

2009 Vespa GTS300 Super: A Beginner's Ride?

2009-08-18T20:34:00.000-07:00

Ideas and attitudes towards scooters are wide ranging. One common notion is scooters aren't suitable for serious riding. Beginner bikes. Glorified toys to play with in the neighborhood. Perhaps even ride to work if it's not too far. My guess is that most of these ideas come from a lack of direct experience riding scooters or a nervousness surrounding perceptions associated with scooters. Standing along a slightly misty Linden Hall Road surveying the Vespa most recently on loan from Kissell Motorsports I thought how perfect it is for the meandering secondary roads found throughout central Pennsylvania. Like all the Vespa scooters I've ridden it is solid, stylish and easy to ride. For a beginner it's a great way to hone the skills necessary to manage yourself on the road. And once you're on one you'll realize it's capable of a lot more than you think. Like riding with the big dogs.

That's what a Vespa GTS300 Super can do if given the chance. A couple months ago I was at Kissell Motorsports talking to a gentleman who was looking at a Can-Am Spyder, one of those big three wheeled motorcycles. He explained he was looking at the 100 plus horsepower machine for his wife. "She's never ridden before and I'm not sure she'll be able to manage on two-wheels." Thinking that the Spyder may be a bit imposing for a first time rider I inquired about a Vespa. With a concerned look and shake of his head he uttered, "I'm a BMW rider.". There were a lot of ways to read our brief interaction but I think what he was getting at was he needed his wife to have something to keep up with his motorcycle. After three days with the new Vespa GTS300 Super I can attest to it's ability to keep up with anything at any posted speed limit in Pennsylvania if need be. Or in the surrounding states for that matter. While not anyone's first choice for a long distance cruiser the Vespa is an excellent road companion for any rider interested in weekend rides through the countryside. Add to it's utterly useful functionality as a commuter vehicle and an around town errand transport the scooter is pretty amazing.

I've been riding a Vespa GTS250 for a couple years now and was anxious to see how the bigger machine compared. Looking at both the casual observer would have trouble telling them apart without the nameplates or knowledge of some of the color components specific to the 300. The engine sounds slightly deeper in tone but hardly noticeable considering how quiet all the Vespa scooters are. On the road it only took a few miles to know where the real difference lies -- the Vespa GTS300 Super has more pulling power through its entire speed range. Twist the throttle and it accelerates whether you are standing still or going 50mph. The extra 50cc's makes a difference. It was particularly noticeable on hills. The 250 is no slouch but the 300 gives a useful bit of extra power.

Thinking about the gentleman seeking something for his wife I could not help but think again that a scooter like this would be a great choice for a first ride. Less likelihood of a big motorcycle sitting unused in the garage because a new rider never really gets comfortable with something too big. Introducing a spouse to the riding life for the first time may yield more positive results with a Vespa.

Morning fog was in the forecast. I like to know what to expect when I depart on Saturday morning. An early departure allowed for some time to experiment with the new Vespa's handling. Familiar, frequently territory still beckons for one more photograph. The white Vespa makes a fine subject with classic lines.

I made plans to ride with my friend Paul -- he on his Harley and me on the Vespa.

Not far from the University Park Airport we pulled off the road to make a few pictures. I'm grateful that Paul will still ride with me considering how often I stop to take pictures. If he was not a serious photographer himself I suspect our riding friendship would have ended a long time ago. I've found a Vespa to be a near perfect photography platform. Easy to pull over almost anywhere and put it up on the centerstand or make sudden and narrow U-turns.

I write a lot about the joys of riding alone. But I do appreciate sharing unexpected turns on the road with someone at times. Looking through the viewfinder the empty road needed something. I asked Paul if he needed to stretch his back.

The Vespa GTS 300's power shows going up hills. Acceleration is improved over my GTS250 as well as power throughout the speed range. After taking my pictures the Vespa raced up the winding road over the mountain and into the Bald Eagle Valley.

Everyone knows that food is an important part of riding. A goal and an excuse. This morning was no different and Paul and I found ourselves breakfast at the Unionville Cafe.

Without any genes to energize culinary adventure tendencies I order my usual hearty breakfast. Having such simple tastes means I am seldom disappointed almost guaranteeing an enjoyable ride.

Near the top of the Allegheny Plateau in the Moshannon State Forest under bright sunlight I could look across the fog filled valley towards home. Reaching this point brough the Vespa GTS300 through miles of twisting roads. The steering is tighter and the scooter feels more sure footed than the 250 I normally ride. That combined with the extra power made for an easy ride in this terrain.

Along the lake at Black Moshannon State Park. Paul is trying to get me to ride off into the woods for a picture or park the scooter at the end of a small wooden dock. In both cases I see a phone call to Kissell Motorsports explaining why I was off-road with the Vespa or asking how to get water out of the crankcase. Besides, I didn't see Paul pushing his Harley out on the dock.

One last stop moving back across the plateau towards home. The Vespa performs well and I think about what it can't do. Not much really. It's more a matter of degree of specialty than not actually being able to do anything. I've ridden my smaller Vespa on the freeway for hundreds of miles. I've travelled in cities and throughout the countryside. In 100 degree heat and at -15 degree cold. On dry pavement, wet pavement, dirt, gravel, snow and ice. The Vespa is a great machine for a beginner and will allow for lots of growth. It's a gem around town but can run with the big dogs too if invited. And the expertise acquired on the scooter translates fine to a bigger, more powerful motorcycle if that's where your path goes.

I'm not sure if that fellow got his wife the Can-Am Spyder or not but I really think the Vespa would have been the better choice. Get your husband or wife a scooter. Ride with them. Show them the ropes. Who knows where it will take you.

2009 Triumph Street Triple: A Transformation

2009-08-09T19:35:00.000-07:00

I'm not adventurous and my habit of pre-judging tends to torpedo new experiences. During the past 35 years at Penn State I can probably count on two hands the number of times I have not ordered chocolate ice cream at the world famous Berkey Creamery. I find something I like and I stick to it. And I draw a lot of conclusions from limited information and experience. It explains why my heart sunk last week when Craig Kissell suggested I try the Triumph Street Triple. I don't ride motorcycles like that. I hate that feet back riding position and I'm not interested in a machine that's described as a streetfighter or referenced along with smoking rear tires and sirens. In my head I knew exactly what this bike was and had no interest in riding one. I know what I like and this wasn't it. While my brain scanned Kissell Motorsports for alternative suggestions what came out of my mouth was, "Sure, I'll take it for a ride.".

Despite being narrow minded about choices I am quick to admit when I'm wrong. Not even a mile down the road I was smiling and telling myself that the Triumph Street Triple was fun. The riding position was different and my big clunky Wolverine boots weren't ideal for the shift level but those were merely minor adjustments waiting to be made. Even though it was fun to ride I was uncertain how it would hold up for a longer ride. By the time the motorcycle was parked in the driveway I was making plans for the next morning.

My body isn't as limber as it once was so before departing the next morning I spent 15 minutes stretching my legs and hips to help me adapt to the riding position which is decidedly more restricted than my Vespa. I was skeptical about how far I could ride comfortably. Since the Street Triple placed me in new, transformational territory, I figured I would add another element to the trip --- I would keep photography to a minimum. No frequents stops to look around and explore. This time I would just ride, chew up miles and have fun solely with the motorcycle. And I managed to spend a minimal amount of time on pictures, usually just making a quick shot when I had to stop to stretch or get gas. The ride was a no frills adventure.

Departure time put me on the road just after sunrise on a clear, mild morning. The first stop was just outside of Centre Hall, Pennsylvania to tie my shoe. And make a quick photo. At this point I was intrigued by the engine and transmission performance. The power was smooth, positive and relentless in any of the six gears available. I was able to manage at slow speeds when necessary and a twist of throttle transformed the Triumph into nothing short of a monster on the road. It's clear this motorcycle is made to move fast and hard down the road. The tires seemed to stick to the road and I could see why some riders may succumb to temptation and enter the riding realm of interest to the State Police.

On PA Route 192 east of Livonia I decide to stop and stretch my legs. I've only gone 32 miles but I'm still concerned that I'm suddenly going to cramp up in the still odd to me riding position. While stopped making the picture a young man in a pickup truck slows to inquire if I require assistance. I'm reminded of how often people have stopped to offer help over the years when I am out in the middle of nowhere making pictures. I guess motorcycles and scooters should be moving, especially so far from town. I give him the thumbs up and he returns the gesture and motors on as I continue on my way east towards the Susquehanna River.

My just ride and not take a lot of pictures plan wasn't perfect. I did putt around (if you call moving slow on the Street Triple putting) R.B. Winter State Park a bit and just had to make a photo as we entered the forest with the morning light streaming in. I'm a sucker for these pictures. Besides, it gave me another chance to see the instrument cluster on the Triumph come to life when I turn on the power--- the fuel system pressurizing and a futuristic sweep of blue lights around the tachometer make me smile as the bike says, "lets go.".

I planned to have breakfast at some yet undiscovered diner along the way. I passed several options in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania preferring to keep riding. I finally pulled off the road at a Pennsylvania Fish Commission launch area on the east side of the Susquehanna River. I needed to sit for a few minutes to to sort out some competing noise in my head. Breakfast was loud, fuel was quiet but persistent, and where I was going was just annoying. Undecided I sat on the Triumph looking for a sign of which way to go as two Harley-Davidson Road Kings roared by. While normally oblivious to other motorcycles on the highway save for offering a friendly wave in passing a light flickered in my head and I pulled onto the road in the direction of the Harleys. Working fast through the gears I closed the distance between us quickly and rode behind them until we reached an intersection where I paused to allow them to regain their independence and privacy. It was an unusual action on my part to chase someone down and I can only attribute it to the power available on this machine. As I sat at the intersection I reevaluated my behavior and made a note that I don't have to act on impulses -- especially on the road.

After adding several gallons of premium fuel to the tank I made a decision to follow the river south towards Harrisburg, a route I've not ridden before, and take the ferry across the river at Millersburg. I acted on impulse again, this time to make an unnecessary photograph of the Triumph outside an abandoned factory in Sunbury. It's how I imagine a Triumph, born in the industrial areas of England where red brick is king. A homage to my idea of a streetfighter.

Another picture, another required stop. This time to replace my gloves for a lighter, cooler, mesh pair of Triumph gloves. With absolutely no luggage space on the Street Triple I carry everything in my pockets -- camera, notebook, pen, extra gloves, cell phone, wallet, and extra ear plugs. Looking down the road at the absence of traffic I am again struck by thoughts of increasing speed. I've reached the breakin mileage point where I can add another 1000 rpms. Then I remember all the deer crossing signs I've passed and the knowledge that Pennsylvania holds the North American record for vehicle deer strikes. As pretty as Bambi is I don't want to run into her. Or him. Managing risk I continue on my way at legal speeds. And still smiling. Any objections I had about this motorcycle have evaporated and I am just enjoying the ride.

No excuses. I just wanted to make a picture. At this point I had ridden almost 90 miles and no longer had any concerns about riding position or seat comfort. Check and check. And I was losing a bit of my will to not make pictures. The photographer in me remains stronger than the rider. So I needed to look at the old Conrail car that someone had gone to the trouble of placing on their property. Couldn't figure out why they would go to such lengths to get it there and then let it decay. Photographically though it was a fine subject.

It was only 8 more miles to Millersburg and the Millersburg Ferry, the only remaining paddle wheel ferry crossing the river. The last time I made use of it was in the 1980s while working on a documentary film about water. On this day the ride across would be purely for pleasure.

The ferry sits along the shore at the bottom of a step dirt drive. I was hoping that the boat would be on my side of the river so I wouldn't have to wait too long to cross. All hope was dashed for a quick crossing when I pulled up and saw a hand written note "Not Working Today". I suppose I should be grateful. The deck looked a little more rickety than I remember and certainly was uneven to park a motorcycle. That sign saved me the unpleasant phone call to Craig Kissell, "You'll never guess where your brand new Triumph is. In the Susquehanna River. Yeah, that's right, the Susquehanna. Can I still have the Scrambler???".

Looking down river towards Harrisburg and the closest bridge at Clarks Ferry I had to make a decision of whether to head south or turn back and go the way I came. Without a map handy I chose to continue south to what had to be a closer crossing. The ferry would have to wait for another day.

Traffic increased as I traveled south and my stomach was making more frequent reminders about breakfast. Without the ferry crossing my time table was a wreck and I wanted to be home before 1pm. The next day was my daughter's wedding and I had some things to think about. So I abandoned plans for a sit down hearty breakfast and opted for the continental cuisine of a Sheetz cheese dog and a bottle of water. Enough fuel for me to get home.

If I had more time I would have chosen a leisurely route home to site see and make more pictures. With the press of time and schedule I chose to follow US Route 322 and see how the Street Triple performed on the 70 mile trip home. The route would provide a limited access busy highway for all but about 7 miles of the trip. While the bike had no problems flowing along with traffic it certainly wasn't at its best being buffeted about with neither fairing or windshield to help diffuse the air disruptions of a steady stream of eighteen wheelers on the road. The bike held it's own but the combination of wind and turbulence demanded a lot of attention at times. It was nice to know that a twist of the throttle would leap the bike forward and beyond things if required.

When I got home I had put just under 200 miles on the Triumph Street Triple, a machine that 24 hours earlier I had no interest in at all. It was a minor transformation and another lesson learned on the road, this one about judging books by their covers. The Street Triple obviously has the power and design to live up to its streetfighter reputation. But I found that it is just as accommodating to a non-streetfighting rider. And it is fun, really fun to ride. It may not be the all-around bike for my daily riding requirements but it may be for someone else who has no interest in farm lanes and forest roads. On the street, it's in its element.

2009 Kawasaki KLR 650: A Ride in the Fog

2009-08-03T22:37:00.000-07:00

Finally, the first long ride on a Kawasaki KLR 650. Long an occupant of an imaginary world that finds me breaking out across empty deserts or untracked tundra in a never ending life of adventure. The fantasy roots in the same place that gave rise to my dreams of the Triumph Bonneville. After a near perfect experience on the Triumph I remembered the old adage that lighting never strikes twice in the same place. My expectations of the KLR were guarded.

Morning fog delighted the photographer but triggered concern for the rider. With limited experience on the tall KLR I spent some time weighing risk before finally heading down the road at 6:30am. The fog wasn't thick but quickly managed to cover my visor with dew while the inside began to fog. Cracking the visor open to allow air inside only succeeded in rendering my eyeglasses unusable. I've ridden on many foggy mornings but this was the first time I had serious visibility concerns. While making the photograph of the Kawasaki parked in the farm lane I was hatching a plan to get the shiny new motorcycle to the closest diner or coffee shop in one piece and wait for the sun to clear the road. I made plans to ride back to town and abandon any adventuring, at least for the next couple hours.

Another stop to clear my vision and make a photograph. With all the start and stop riding the KLR starts flawlessly with a touch of the starter button when warm and starts just as easily first thing in the morning with a flick of the handlebar mounted choke. If nothing else I was getting plenty of practice in creating muscle memory for the starting procedures.

Being more interested in riding than sitting a thinning of the fog was all I needed to continue on my journey out of town. My mind was plotting courses but I wasn't finding much excitement. The more I try and force a ride the less inspired they usually are. So I just gave myself over to the KLR and let it lead the way. At least until I realized I didn't know how much fuel I had on board.

There are few old mom and pop gas stations anymore and the ones I do see I'm not sure I want to pump their gas into my tank. So I pull into one of the modern Sheetz centers and put two gallons of premium in the tank. I forgot to ask when I picked up the motorcycle about the octane requirement. Premium would cover all bases. There was a bit of sunshine peeking through the fog and I made the decision to jump on the expressway west to get onto the Allegheny Plateau and some winding rural roads fast. And have a chance to see how the Kawasaki would perform at freeway speeds.

Up and out of the fog I found myself in a brief island of sunshine at the top of Bald Eagle Ridge. The KLR has plenty of power to move along at highway speeds though I did find myself wishing for a sixth gear though with the tachometer indicating just over 4000 rpm at 65 mph. A twist of the throttle would move the speedometer up quickly if necessary. The fairing and small windshield did a nice job keeping the ride comfortable. For me at least. I kind of like a blast of wind in the chest. Intermittent fog keep my speed in a safe place and my eyes constantly searching ahead and behind for vehicles oblivious to the decline in visibility.

Riding up onto the Allegheny Plateau west of Port Matilda I was was pleased to have clear skies and excellent visibility. I stopped hoping to find the perfect picture of the motorcycle along the road with a fog bank in the valley below. No such luck -- the fog burned bright from sunlight. I was a couple hours too late for that shot. Moving west on US 322 the fog returned along with an increase in traffic. A respite appeared in the form of a gravel road.

The Kawasaki KLR thrives on roads like these -- hard packed gravel and dirt that crisscross the forested heart of Pennsylvania. And that's why this machine fits my riding desires so well. I like to explore. I want to see what's down all those little roads and paths that veer off the pavement. And I want to explore the paved ones too. I know the KLR can support big rides, cross country rides that make epic, once in a lifetime journeys for some, or even once a year tours for others. Time and circumstance aren't stacked up for me right now to make those kinds of trips. Besides, I like to ride too much to live for infrequent vacations on two-wheels. I want to go now, right here, in my landscape. The more I see the more I realize remains to see. And with the KLR I'll be limited only by my own skill and drive.

The aggressive tread on the Dunlop tires are remarkably sticky even on the wet pavement. A little further experimentation with the brakes to see where wheel lock occurs gives me a lot more confidence on the tall bike. Stopping here to make a picture also revealed the need for me to exercise and stretch. By this point I had already been on and off the bike as many times as some riders might do in a week. Definitely need to revisit my physical conditioning. Why is it every time I think of physical condition I end up with bacon?

Breakfast at The Little Restaurant in Philipsburg will do nothing to enhance my ability to get on the KLR. I'm remembering the process of getting on a horse as a kid. It involved a little work. At 55 I'm working a bit to get on the KLR. It's worth it. It's a modern horse and I can go where I want.

After breakfast I'm uncertain of where to go next. Looking around I think I need to return to Philipsburg again for another meal with Paul. And then explore some of the other towns for additional food sources. The Kawasaki sounds pretty good starting up. I tend to like things quiet and routinely ride with earplugs, even with the Vespa, but do admire the big single cylinder engine. Pulling away the sound of the chain, transmission and engine all come together in a mechanical symphony that is pleasing to my ears. At the next stop I remove the earplugs to listen a little closer.

More dirt and gravel roads as I move through Black Moshannon State Park and Moshannon State Forest. With each passing mile my confidence grows in the motorcycle and my skills with it. The big tires deliver a solid, steady ride on the gravel roads. There is a lot to see if you have time to look.

At each successive stop the KLR feels more maneuverable. The time it takes to stop and park the bike is quicker. More mental energy is going into where to park rather than how to park. And I am loving the giant foot on the kickstand. Other than really soft ground I don't have concerns that the kickstand will sink down and drop the bike. Nice touch. No need to carry around a flattened beer can.

Wild trout live in this stream. Back at the main highway I saw a fisherman wading with fly rod in hand, focused on his passion in much the same way I was. The red flowers of the wild bee balm caught my eye. I'm glad I took a moment to climb down the back to the stream and make a picture. I don't do it enough when I'm riding. I look but seem to reserve the camera for the road and whatever I'm riding.

The morning is slipping away towards afternoon and I head towards home. I wasn't exactly sure where I was on the gravel roads but had a general idea of which direction I needed to go. Back on the pavement I put the KLR through it's last paces of the day by abandoning any further photography and just concentrated on riding. The Kawasaki was surprisingly agile in curves and responded with a kind of throaty rumble when I would twist on some throttle. The motorcycle had plenty left when I got to my riding limits. Just keep in mind that I'm not good but I am slow. I had a few chuckles earlier in the week reading an account of my Triumph riding that thought I did a little too much slow riding.

Slow riding, slow travel. I suppose that's what I am about. It fits my needs with camera and my desire to generally slow down my life. The Kawasaki, while perfectly able to lead a frenetic pace on or off the road, is equally comfortable carrying me along at my pace. It's a fine horse. A horse that I'd be content to ride for a long time.

If I had any concerns it was the fact that in a day or so I would be returning the KLR to Kissell Motorsports.

2009 Kawasaki KLR 650: First Evening Ride

2009-07-31T16:26:00.000-07:00

A gray, wet day seems an appropriate backdrop for a ride on a Kawasaki KLR 650, the next bike in the New Wheels in the Sticks project. The KLR has been on my mental radar for a long time as a sort of utilitarian do anything motorcycle. The Jeep of the two wheeled world. There is something satisfying in thinking there is nothing I could not do or place I could not go. Thanks to Kissell Motorsports I'll have the opportunity over the next few days to take the Kawasaki out on the road and see how it feels.

There wasn't much time to ride today, just a long loop around the valley to get a feel for how the big machine handles. I say big because the first thing I noticed was how tall the KLR is. I mean really tall. At just under 6'3" tall I felt like I was barely able to touch the ground. In reality I had no problem flat-footing the bike but it felt pretty high for the first 20 minutes until I became accustomed to it.

The past two bikes I've ridden had fuel injected engines and I have gotten used to just pressing the starter button and go. The KLR wanted me to give it a little fuel before it would start. And it wants me to open the fuel valve and even give it a choke when cold. The perplexed look on my face passed quickly as memories flooded back.

Like each new machine I ride I find a lonesome road to test out the brakes and stopping characteristics. In addition to clean, positive braking it was nice to know the aggressive tread on the tires worked well on the damp and wet pavement. The 650cc single cylinder thumper engine was a new experience. I intentionally didn't use my normal foam earplugs so I could get used to the sounds the KLR makes. I like to have some idea of what sounds right and what doesn't.

Didn't really have time for much riding this evening but I'm planning to leave early tomorrow to see how I like this big, tall motorcycle out in the sticks.

2009 Triumph Bonneville: Image, Myth and Ride

2009-07-29T16:14:00.000-07:00

Why do I like this motorcycle so much?

I had to make a picture of the two of us to figure it out. Image. Part of the fascination with the Triumph Bonneville is the way it looks and the way I think I look with it. Let's say it allows me to pretend a part of me is like some of my boyhood heros on motorcycles. In an alley in downtown State College, Pennsylvania I found a location that reminded me of the urban landscapes that I pictured the Triumph. That's about as rough as it gets here. The back door of the Eddie Bauer store. But that is only part of the fascination with the motorcycle. There is a lot more to it than image and myth.

An early morning ride through familiar terrain gave me a chance to compare solitary riding on the Triumph Bonneville to the experience on my Vespa. My intent on the scooter is an unfolding of tension and disposal of noise gathered in my head through the week, an ongoing meditation on two wheels and I was anxious to determine whether I could achieve the same thing on the Triumph. Despite it's ability to charge down the road it was perfectly able to deliver a relaxed journey, a simple flight along these rural roads. Turning off the road onto a farm lane just to admire the morning light may not be typical Triumph riding fare but in a hectic world it is nothing short of magical. For me. Thundering down the road can wait until another day.

Final thoughts on the Triumph Bonneville. I want one. It's simple, elegant construction embraces my desire for a simpler life. The classic lines and design trigger the same motorcycle wanderlust now that I felt as a teenager wishing I owned something like this. On the road it handled flawlessly and never left me feeling unsure or unsafe. While it's power is seductive and speed deceptive a bit of mental adjustment on my part as a rider made this motorcycle mine to command.

Did I say I want one?

I returned the bike to Kissell Motorsports and I have to admit the childish part of my brain kept imagining Craig Kissell saying, "Aww heck, just keep it a while longer..." But there are more motorcycles to experiment with and so little time...

2009 Triumph Bonneville: Heading West Just After Sunrise

2009-07-26T16:57:00.001-07:00

My friend Paul Ruby and I were on the road early with plans to ride west towards Clearfield to find a new place to for breakfast. I have begun to wonder how many riders make a ritual of riding to breakfast. Something like private pilots and the 200 dollar cheeseburger. A short stop at the Sunoco station on North Atherton Street where Paul could get gas for his motorcycle gave me a chance to admire the Triumph Bonneville. Again. In the light from the rising sun it just seemed to glimmer. Really. Well, I did do some interpretation in Photoshop but the bike does look good. I've dreamt about motorcycles that look like this. And so far it has lived up to my expectations.

The Bonneville is at home on the highway. Every bike or scooter I've ever ridden seems to have a riding sweet spot. A speed where the bike is completely relaxed, a mid-ground where you don't notice you're going slow and you don't notice you're going fast. For the Triumph it's between 50 and 60mph. (In my decidedly non-scientific estimation). Riding my Vespa GTS250ie I find it right around 45mph. Your results may vary.

I pulled over just as we approached the top of Bald Eagle Ridge on Interstate 99. I made Paul back his motorcycle up so I could admire the unobstructed view of the road and sky. This motorcycle loves this kind of road.

Another stop for a picture along US322 as it begins to rise into the Allegheny Plateau. With the clouds passing over the hills and valleys this area looks as much like parts of Virginia and North Carolina as it does Pennsylvania. My thoughts travel momentarily to imagined rides on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

The weather has been unusually cool this summer and the feeling of fall hits me even though it's July. When I left the house it was 59 degrees Fahrenheit and I was wearing my winter riding jacket with a liner. I love this kind of weather but it isn't fondly embraced by riders who like to travel unencumbered by too much clothing.

My riding style generally consists of slow, slower and stop. Stop for pictures. Stop to look around and just breathe in the world. It took me awhile to tame the Triumph's desire to go fast. While it does not have a huge engine it is entirely within it's power to go fast. It's deceptive and I had to keep a close eye on the speedometer to make sure the State Police would not want to take a closer look at the bike too.

If you want to see pictures on a ride you just have to go slow otherwise you will rush by all but the biggest landscape views. And by slow I mean 35mph. It's easier at 25mph and easier yet at 15mph. With a little practice and experimentation with the gearbox I was able to find a photo speed sweet spot. I don't ride that way all the time but some places call out for attention. So it's nice to know how to make myself and the bike comfortable.

Paul pulled into a gas station in Coalport for fuel and a chance to show off his back stretching regimen. No matter how many times I witness the ritual something just seems wrong. If you ever run into Mr. Ruby as him to tell you about the time he was stretching his back in McDonalds with a pack of Boy Scouts present. Then you'll understand.

Adding fuel to the Triumph is easy except for the trepidation of splashing gas on the mirror finish paint job. I was extremely careful but without knowing how much gas was in the tank or how much it would hold I went slow. At two gallons I stopped and replaced the shiny chrome gas cap without so much as a drop of gas to mar the finish. Have I said how pretty this black motorcycle is?

The search for food was not going well. Phillipsburg was a bust as was Oseeola Mills, Houtzdale, Madera and Irvona. By the time we stopped in Coalport my stomach was done riding. I was on autopilot to a known breakfast way station near Prince Gallitzin State Park in Flinton, Pennsylvania. Sir Barney's.

Sir Barney's has standard, reliable breakfast fare which is exactly what I needed. Eggs, bacon, potatoes, juice and toast. It's like my riding security blanket. The only meal of the day I can count on to make me whole and not put me to sleep. Maybe that's why I tend to ride in the morning.

Riding with a trusted riding partner like Paul has it's advantages over riding alone. You get to experience things twice. Once through your eyes and once through someone else's. While I was happy as a clam to have food he was concerned with the lack of interest the wait staff seemed to pay us. We got everything we needed but we didn't get characters. There was nothing memorable about the people working there, no fodder for stories or humorous anecdotes. As Paul commented, "They're 9 to 5ers.".

Ours were the only motorcycles in the parking lot. The Triumph and Harley looked good out there. And I was glad to be able to keep my eye on things. I'm still a bit apprehensive with Craig Kissell's generosity in loaning me motorcycles. I imagine a phone call..."I parked it right outside the diner. I was only there for 20 minutes. It's a family place. I can't imagine who took it...."

So I keep my eye on things. While I'm riding and when it's parked. Maybe that's why Kissell Motorsports trusts me with their motorcycle.

By the time I arrived at the home of my inlaws we had ridden 100 miles. The Triumph looked as good in their driveway as it did in mine. I think it would look good in anyone's driveway. It's just a cool, classic machine if your interests lean in that direction. As much as I would have liked to ride all day adult responsibilities beckon me home. Besides, there still was another 70 miles of riding ahead to help ease the pain...

I am completely comfortable with the Triumph Bonneville. The transition from scooter to motorcycle was effortless for me. Muscle memories of shifting motorcycles in the 1970s returned and I was at home astride this machine. I can't say enough good things about the Triumph so I'll just stop for now.

I have one more post on the Triumph reflecting on a short ride alone through the countryside. Look for that soon.

2009 Triumph Bonneville: First Ride

2009-07-24T09:16:00.000-07:00

On Friday afternoon I rode out of the parking lot at Kissell Motorsports with the first motorcycle in the New Wheels in the Sticks project -- a black 2009 Triumph Bonneville. This is a classic motorcycle, the one I picture in my head when I hear the word motorcycle. It's what kids draw when they're drawing a motorcycle. It's connected to memories of movies and Steve McQueen. Triumph has long occupied a special place in my imagination. The motorcycle is solid with a strong, deep exhaust sound without being obnoxious. Mentally I knew I wasn't on my Vespa but it took a few miles for my body to realize this new machine did not respond in the same fashion as the scooter.

The pavement was wet from a passing shower and the road surface was slick under my boots. I traveled a quiet route home to experiment with the brakes, weight and handling. Back and forth on an empty stretch of road to check the braking response on the wet road. Another few stops to fully reset my brain to use my right foot for the rear brake instead of my left hand which was now on clutch duty. I spent about 20 minutes evaluating my skills and comfort on the Triumph before heading towards home. It is important for me to take the time to embrace a new machine before any serious or extended riding. I've met riders who have chosen huge motorcycles as their first ride. Or have gone through the Motorcycle Safety Foundation Beginner Riding Course on a 250cc motorcycle and turn around after the course and buy a Goldwing. I like to build up to things. Maybe I'm just nervous about the leap in size and weight from the Vespa. So I was careful and deliberate with the Triumph. Even though Craig Kissell said not to worry about the bike and that he would assume any liability for damage I didn't want to see him cry.

As I write this piece I keep thinking I should remain cool, aloof, objective in my reactions to the Bonneville on that first evening. I tell myself not to gush or say anything stupid. Nothing poetic. Just the facts. One of the first things I noticed was the spartan simplicity of the Triumph. I found myself looking for the clock, ambient temperature and fuel gauges present on my Vespa. I didn't realize how often I my eyes go to them until they weren't there. The Triumph has a speedometer, a blue light for high beams, a small amber light when the fuel is low, and maybe a red light for low oil. That's it. With fuel injection there is no choke or fuel valve. Press the starter button and it starts. Right now. Simple. And without saddle bags you don't have to worry about carrying anything that won't fit in your pockets. At first I was a little bothered by that but by the end of the weekend I really enjoyed not having to think about what I need to take along. My luggage consisted of wallet in my pants pocket, some change in another, a point and shoot camera in my riding jacket pocket and some index cards and a pen in the other. That's it. For recreational day rides where weather will not be an issue it was fine. If this bike were mine I would add saddle bags at least and perhaps a rear topcase. Otherwise how would I haul all the groceries around that I do with the Vespa? Groceries don't really fit though with my image of the Triumph. Yet.

I only rode about 15 miles that first evening but enough to know that I really liked this motorcycle and was looking forward to an early departure the next day. I liked the upright riding position. I like the smooth even power that the fuel injected engined delivered. And I liked the way it handled on the road. And as if the universe was testing the Triumph and my riding skills I had to make a sudden evasive maneuver to avoid plowing into four chickens crossing Main Street in Boalsburg. Anyone can dodge deer and elk. But chickens, that's real adventure.

I'll be posting more pictures and reflections of a longer ride on the Triumph in a few days. Stay tuned.

New Wheels in the Sticks

2009-07-18T16:17:00.000-07:00

Kissell Motorsports owner Craig Kissell has given me the keys to the candy store. Or so it seems to me.

Craig has offered me whatever I want to ride from his fine establishment and treat them like my own. At least temporarily. A chance to try some other machines in the sticks. Or maybe he was getting tired of seeing the Vespa all the time in pictures. I've been turning things over in my head since we first discussed this back in February and just recently decided to give it a go. Over the coming weeks and months you'll be seeing periodic posts bearing the title New Wheels in the Sticks with stories and photos reflecting my experiences with motorcycles and scooters that are not my Vespa GTS250ie. I'm not sure what to expect but am open to the adventure.

A few words about Kissell Motorsports.

You can find the dealership in State College, Pennsylvania on West College Avenue. It's the kind of place that has a lot of things I like.

Unless I have a specific reason to be there I tend to follow the same pattern in the store. Walk in and absorb the energy, scan the place for familiar faces, and then walk over to the Vespa section. After almost 5 years on a Vespa scooter they have not lost their luster. And Piaggio continues to deliver interesting machines. And colors. Like the Vespa GTS300ie in this picture.

On to the Triumph section, a quick look at helmets and then either a visit to a Kawaski KLR or off to the back where the pre-owned machines live. I'm predictable.

Things get dicey from this point. I glance furtively at the Ducati's for fear that I will be identified as unworthy of entering that section of the store. The Ducati's sit there oozing power. They are seriously imposing. I believe this to be true. I also believe that doughnuts or ice cream are fine for breakfast. I need to make some adjustments and modifications in things.

So Craig and I have worked out an agreement and we are embarking on a new project. Not only is he supportive of me riding his wares he's leaving it up to me to write what I think. I almost feel like a junior moto-journalist. More likely a moto-essayist. As I embark on this journey I'm curious as to what I will find out about myself and motorcycles. And how my obsession with the Vespa will fare in comparison. I'm also going to use this project to reach beyond what I usually do on the scooter and talk to people who ride other things. Find out what makes them tick.

The journey has begun. This past Friday after work I picked up a 2009 Triumph Bonneville. A not so secret love. I'll be posting reflections from four days of temporary ownership soon. And I'm already thinking about what I want to ride next.