kick it live

Today in the afternoon was my first opportunity to hop on the scoot and go for a ride (albeit a short one) after getting home from Lethbridge/Calgary for the weekend. I went to play drums for my brother's band (www.djcmusic.com) and then to IKEA for some office furniture.

The way home was a bit dodgy with our tiny trailer FILLED to the brim with cardboard IKEA boxes. We actually had to leave a bunch in Calgary with the in-laws, since my estimation was that the tongue would have broken right off our little trailer on the drive home.

Just outside of Cranbrook it started to pour, and I had visions of laminate and particle board getting water-stained and wrecked...like an anonymous description of sailing: "Sailing is like standing in the rain, tearing up hundred-dollar bills". Luckily I was prepared with some poly and duct tape. So I jumped out and with Anie's help we managed to make it home with a few damp (but not soggy) packages. Whew.

So today i went down to the bank. The movie store. Back home. Couchette started up nice each time. Sometimes first kick now...I don't know whether I am just learning to speak her language, or whether there are actual improvements in her performance. I suspect that owning a vintage scooter is akin to marriage: nobody tells you what it's like before (and if they did you wouldn't believe them) and once you're in it, you realize that you are hopelessly in love, and that you married an alien.

The first 5 years is just learning to speak that alien language.

Did I mention that it's our 5th Anniversary in 5 days?

Stop, in the name of love

From the vault of scooter ephemera... The lady that sold me the scooter originally (and who paid $50 for it at a garage sale in Wasa Lake) was at Winners and saw this picture frame, and bought it for me. A girl in a tube-top, putting on the brakes for whoever is going to have their picture in the frame.

The funny things about this frame are:
1. The girl has red hair like my wife.
2. The girl wears pink tube-tops like my wife (...)
3. From this camera angle, it looks like she has a thought bubble coming from her butt. Unlike my wife.
4. She is doing a front-wheel brake endo.
5. Maybe she is doing an endo because she just realized she is driving across the road instead of along it.
6. I think I will put a picture of a semi-truck in the frame so it will look like she is about to get run over. Now that's funny! (unless it is my wife)...

Anyways, Thanks for the laughs, Brenda!

5th kick scooter

<=== This is the first image you get if you type 'scooter god' into Google Images. Strange.

It has been a good weekend for scootering. Couchette has been riding really well. I took her for a long burn and up to Jim Smith Lake for the first time. I never actually got there because I stopped to see my friends Dan and Jan who live up that way. While I was talking to them the scoot started to sputter and I didn't get her into gear in time to save her. Dan push started me in his socks, and I was off. At the top of the hill she cut out again, and I knew the plug was pretty fouled. After coasting half-way down the hill with the throttle on, hoping she would catch, I pulled over and pondered my situation: I was 4 miles from home, the scooter wouldn't start, and I had half of a hill left to get her going... what to do?

I decided to risk it, pushed off and popped Couchette into second gear to get the motor turning over...nothing. Then it hit me like a flash, like a vision: I reached down and turned the fuel tap off for a few seconds to starve the motor. (this may be quite dangerous since the fuel also carries the lube for the engine, but I figured that there was enough fuel in the combustion chamber for a few seconds of starvation) After three seconds the engine sputtered and caught and I flipped the fuel supply back on. I win. After that she ran fine, and I made it home no problems, teeth showing.

Since then, I have been able to get her going each time I needed to. I have been cautious about riding somewhere that I might get stuck, but so far so good. On the 5th or 6th kick she usually fires to life and away we go. To the movie store and back, to Jack and Dale-Ann's house, etc. All successful trips. The scooter gods are on my side. for now.

the morning after

Well, Couchette seemed to have liked her bath.

I rode the scoot to a meeting with a client that lives not too far away, just in case, but she fired up this morning third kick, and then when I went to leave the meeting, third kick again. Thrilled was I. So we (couchette and i) went on a ride out King Street a ways, just a little jaunt of 15 minutes or so, to feel the wind and hear the rattle of the engine.

The new tires are working well...I still have to get the front one on, but I think I might wait until the speedo cable arrives and do all that at once. The rear felt different than the old ones, I suppose the profile of the tire is different, so they will, and it took a bit to get used to the feel on the turns. It's probably good that I get used to them separately.

bathtime for couchette

If you are wondering why I have not posted here for the last week, or so, it's because I have had nothing to say. I have had nothing to say because I have had nothing to ride. I have had nothing to ride because when we got home from Red Lodge, I took Couchette's handlebars apart to re-solder the switch, and I took the flywheel cover off to double-check the condenser soldering job. Then I got busy. And there she sat. No rides for scooterboy.

That all changed tonight. I have a few minutes to rub together so I got the pieces all back together. Then I wheeled her out of the garage and kick kick kick vrooom. A beautiful sound. I waited for the scoot to warm up, then I grabbed my helmet and zipped off into the setting sun. Actually I was heading the wrong direction to be heading into the setting sun, but the sun was setting, so I figure what the hell, close enough.

I confess that my happiness is somewhat dependent on being able to ride. I think it is because there is no point to it. When I head out I never really have a destination, I don't have a time-line and I have no set route. the only thing I have to do is ride, and there are so few things left in life (sadly) that are like that. At a certain age it seems the responsibility activities surpass both in number and priority the sheer senseless fun ones. I suppose that is how it should be, but we still need the senseless ones. And so my ups and downs are partially tied to this cacauphonous firing and burning oil smell I get as Couchette roars and sputters to life each time, or not...

Tonight she loves me. We toodled through the hills with the last bit of daylight, luring dogs out of gates and sending deer back into the woods. It was glorious. When I got home, I shut her down, started her up again (!) shut her down, and started her up again (!!). And so, I gave her a sponge bath.

After weeks of wrenching on the scoot, it was covered with greasy finger prints and spilled oil. It was about time, so I got out the sudsy water and gave Couchette a good clean up. She deserved it.

CheapSkoot

The wish list (this feels a little strange, but perhaps it will help friends and family with birthday shopping...)

Scooter parts needed:
1. Speedo Cable for '64 Lambretta Li150 Ser3.
2. Points and Condenser for said scoot.
3. Headlight switch (I took the old, working one apart and it went sproing...lost a part in the dirt. What a dummy i am)
4. Flywheel Puller
5. Set of 'leaner' jets from stock... still running rich. Dellorto SH18 carb.

also:
I'm looking for a Digital Multi-meter, now that Christian has taught me how to use one...very handy little machines.

retired

It's coming up on crazy birthday/anniversary time for my family, with about 10 separate events in the first two weeks of august. In order to get a jump on the 'competition' i made my pitch for prezzies early...to my dad anyways.

Always interested in a safety-oriented present, he bought me some new tires for the scoot. As much as I loved riding around on the original rubber (remember this is a 40 year old bike) I just felt a little nervous about the hardness of the rubber, and a bit of uneven wear that was starting to happen.

The new tires came in yesterday and I got the back one on, which is, ironically, the easier of the two. Now I'm riding in style. Thanks Pops.

I saw the sign

Funny Signs I saw on our trip:

1. A Large billboard beside our KOA Kampground (yes, they spell it that way) that reads "Real Men Don't Abuse Women".

2. A sign at the video store, near the children's section. They are selling off all the old VHS tapes and the signs read "Children", "For Sale".

Morningtown Ride

At the crack of eight we headed out. Firing up the bikes and making for the hills. We began by heading into town, which was a reasonable starting place, as there were many roads to choose from. Eventually we decided on the 78, which led us from Red Lodge about 19 miles to Roscoe, which isn't even on the map, so I had to add it. As you can see, it is a beautiful, windy road that skirts the mountains. The morning was sunny and glorious, and I was on my first real ride of any substantial nature. I even had a riding buddy, which helped me feel safer, on top of the sheer fun of riding together.

The twist of the thottle and the wind on my face, reminds me of the old joke: How do you tell a happy motorcyclist? ... count the bugs in his teeth.

eww. I have learned to smile with my mouth closed.

Repairsville

This morning we nipped into town. On the way in I had to switch to the reserve tank. So on the way out again we stopped for gas. I spilled 2-stroke oil all down the side...yech. That morning we had had the carb apart looking at the jets to see if we could pick up some spares in town. On the way back out of town, I was nipping along at nearly full throttle when I could almost hear something change, then the plug fouled, and that was it. Put put put puuuuh. nada.

We were just about back to the site, so I just pushed it (with a bit of help from Christian) home.

So today we had a bit of a look at the bike, tracing and testing wires. It seemed that the condenser was giving us some grief, and from our diagrams it looked like we could just cut it out of the system and run without it. I gave Christian the go ahead to do so.

We went over the rest of the bike with a fine tooth comb, and eventually Christian found out why I had stopped so suddenly: one of the carb jets fell out. That caused the engine to run super super rich and foul plugs almost instantly. Once that was fixed it should have run again, but it took us two days to get the spark going again. Eventually we discovered that our wiring diagram was misleading, and when we cut out the condenser, we cut out the ground for the spark. oops. We borrowed a soldering gun from a guy at KOA, one of the old ones with the huge element, and we couldn't get it to warm up.

So we had to go into town, buy a soldering gun, and come back to solder the contact back on the Condenser. Time to order new bits...

Then she fired up, and we were good to go. Unfortunately, but this time it was sunday night, and we were all leaving on monday. No major rides had been had yet. A plan was hatched: Christian and I were going to get up and head out early monday morning for a ride into the hills. More on that later.

The Rocky Road to Red Lodge

We arrived safe and sound in Red Lodge, about 10 minutes after Christian, Shari, and the kids (the in-laws). The scooter was an instant hit with Josh, Zach, and even Evan, who could barely see over the handlebars. It was easy to get on, easy to get off, and unique enough that the kids had a blast climbing on it and saying 'brrrrm brrrm'.

Whe we finally arrived, we set up, and Christain (my brother-in-law) who had brought his Kawi-k100, hopped onto our bikes and set off to explore the town. Officially we were on a mission to procure some bug spray and beer, but everyone knew that we were just in it for the ride.

The KOA campground is about 4 miles out of Red Lodge, and the highway into town is fast and straight, so there isn’t much for feeling the curves, but we made the best of it. My speedo cable must have vibrated loose again on the trip down, because no matter how hard I twisted the throttle, I was still going 0 miles per hour. Christian, however, told me that the fastest I went was 47 miles per hour...which was astounding to me, since the fastest I had had it before was 40 mph. But at 47 it felt like there was still a bit of throttle left.

Still not starting when warm, however. Might be an electrical issue?

It is very nice just riding with someone. It is like building a relationship: You test out where each other are at, you take turns leading, you position yourself for maximum visibility, you feel safer and more substantial somehow. There are some great metaphors for marriage in there that need some sorting out...

Looking forward to more rides tomorrow.

mood music for beer and scooters

The route our trucker friend plotted out for us down to Red Lodge was fantastic. No major mountain passes, diverse terrain, and lovely spots to stop and picnic. At about supper time, the only town close enough was a small town in Central Montana called Ovando. If you have never heard of it, don’t be surprised if you never do again. There is not much to it. And after driving all the way through town, the only watering hole/restaurant in the place was Trixie’s Saloon and Family Dining. This is what they call a ‘Full Service Establishment’ with good downhome eating, VLTs, pool table, animal heads on the wall, and high chairs and crayons for the kids. The burgers were good, and the waitress was friendly, which is about the only way a place like that is bearable.

On our way out, we bumped into a fellow from Anacortes, WA. He was on some cross-country tour for a non-profit organization (he didn’t volunteer more information, and I didn’t press...but it makes you wonder) and he had with him a tiny old Honda Spree or something, that was barely recognizable under new masking tape deco-job. He had a six pack of beer on the floorboards of the scoot, and he looked like he was eager to get one of them open. After a few minutes of chit-chat I bid him ‘adieux’ and watched as he buzzed off into the distance. Finn chased after him shouting ‘sGo, sGo. Brrrrrrr brrrrrrrr’ and holding his hands in handlebar formation. The kid is a born scooterist.

on the road again

With Couchette all loaded up onto her trailer, we headed out on the road, and I soon discovered that two things must change:

1. I must not worry that the trailer was unstable, and likely to flip. Once we hit the road, I discovered that it was all very stable, and my nightmares of the whole ball o’ wax careening into the ditch faded into obscurity.

2. The tarp that I had rigged up to keep Couchetted dry must go. By the time we hit the border about an hour away, the whole blessed thing was in tatters. Why do we buy tarps anyways? The cheap plastic groundsheet that was keeping the other luggage in the trailer dry was in fine shape, and was quite a bit cheaper. I pose this question to the tarp makers of the world: Can you make something that (a) keeps the rain out (b) doesn’t tear at the grommets (c) doesn’t break down in two months of sun (d) doesn’t shred to tatters in anything more than an afternoon breeze (e) actually keeps water out for more than one year running and (f) doesn’t cost more than my garage. Truly, can it be that hard to make something like that. For now, though, Couchette goes naked.

Lambretta Lady #2

Well, if you had asked me a month ago, I would have said that the odds were against it. But here it is a month into my time as a Lambretta rider in a small redneck hockey town, and I have already met two people who have owned Lambrettas. It is also interesting and notable that they are both women.

I was getting ready to load up the trailer with Couchette for our drive down to Red Lodge. I had the garage door open and was in the back alley with the car and trailer. An older, british lady came walking up the alley slowly, calling “Minnie, Minnie”. As she got closer, she asked me if I had seen a black cat with a white speck on here face. I had. She hangs around here lots. As we chatted, she peered into the garage, caught sight of the ass-end of Couchette sticking out around the corner, and her eyes got wide.

“Pardon me”, she said “But is that a Lambretta?”

yes. yes it is. holy.

She proceeded to tell me about the days of her youth, growing up in South London, zipping around on her Lambretta, which she loved. She worked out North in the city, and had to go ‘Bombing through London’ (as she put it), every day. That is, until one particularly precipitous day, the oil was all coming up from the streets, and she laid the bike down on a busy road in Kent. As she waves her arms dramatically in the air, she describes the busses honking and the cabs honking and not a soul stopped to help. It was then she decided she had better get two more wheels, and bought herself a Morris.

And now she lives four doors up from us in Cranbrook, BC.

Loco.

Greetings from Russel Country

I'm sitting here in a cafe in Red Lodge, Montana with a bad, over-roasted espresso (or expressso as they call it down here). We arrived yesterday, car, scooter, and family fully intact and ready to ride. We had the bikes out (Christian, the bro-in-law) brought his '81 Kawi 100 and it is a hoot just to have someone to ride with. Still hard to start, but once she's going, she goes. I have some pictures to post, so i will do that when i get down to the café with the camera. Rock on.

oh brother, where scoot thou?

Last week my brother, Rob, and his family came through on the way to a long weekend at the cabin. We went out for a scoot, which marks the first time I carried someone on the back. I made sure to take it easy for the sake of the engine, but she seemed to do just fine.

Then Rob took her up and down the alley. Needless to say he is all stoked about scooters now...

things i need:

I need a manual. I need a flywheel puller. I need new points and condenser. I need to be able to start the scooter after going to a coffee shop. That's all I need.