To understand the genesis of the Third Thursday event, you have to know about another event: First Thursday in Minneapolis. I haven’t yet attended, but on the first Thursday of every month, at Dulono’s Pizza in Uptown, hundreds upon hundreds of bikers swarm the scene. I’m told it’s an absolute madhouse. It’s a mob of people and bravado and bikes — a real anything goes sort of situation. It’s on my list, but I imagine it’s not the kind of event that I’d enjoy too often. Third Thursday at Bluecat Motors is billed as the antithesis of that scene. It’s a much more casual get together, of fewer bikes, and a very relaxed atmosphere. There’s usually a taco truck to feed everybody and Relic is around to pinstripe your bike on-site if you so desire. It sounded like a fun time, so after several days of dedicated wrench work on my Honda, I was ready to make an entrance.

This would be my first real ride with the new bikini fairing in place, which I was excited for. Would it make any difference? Would it stay put? Would it be noisy or put the wind up my helmet in some weird way? I shot up Hwy 35E toward St. Paul and was very pleasantly surprised at how much that little fairing took my torso out of the wind. Rolling at 70 mph was so much more comfortable without the buffeting wind in my chest the whole time. What’s more, I can easily and comfortably duck down behind the windscreen. My freshly changed air filter had amplified the already distinct whine of the intake tract and added a noticeable amount of zip to the throttle — all now much easier to hear with a good deal of the wind noise quieted by the fairing.

As I pulled into the Bluecat lot, I saw about 35 bikes ahead of me loosely parked in three rows. I coasted up, my inline four whisping and growling under me, and came to a stop beside a great ’70s era Honda cafe. There were three guys just the other side of it, bottles in hand, checking out the bikes around them. As I rolled in, I couldn’t help notice them notice me and my bike. Through the last sputters of idle and even my helmet and earplugs I heard one of them lamentably say “Yeah, that’s what my bike’s gonna look like.” I pulled off my helmet and stuffed my gloves inside it. I looked over, nodded hello, and there they were — still ogling my CB650. As groovy as I think my bike is, the idea that strangers would think it’s cool hadn’t even occurred to me. I set the bike on its side stand and dismounted. They were still checking it out. I couldn’t help but think this must be kind of what it’s like to be a good-looking lady. As I walked out into the pack of parked custom mopeds and tricked out old UJMs, I glanced back at my bike. My Honda CB650 is far from the grumpy, raspy, neglected thing it was when I bought it. With its maintenance up to date, its carbs synced, some ill-fitted accessories removed and the new fairing fitted, it’s turned out to be a hell of a machine. Seeing it with fresh eyes, I realized, yeah, that’s a damn good-looking bike.

I didn’t take five steps before I ran into some of the usual suspects from the local scooter crew. Excluding work people, I can count on one hand the number of people I know in the Twin Cities who don’t have two-wheeled mischief of one variety or another. It’s become my favorite thing about living here. Not only are there so many great places to ride, but there are great people to roll with. I was also very pleasantly surprised to see that some of my scooter buddies had also made the jump to motorcycles, just as I had. Fellow RMB rally volunteer Joe had ridden his new Royal Enfield Bullet 500 — a lovely retrospective english bike. His wife was on her new SYM Symba (a Honda Super Cub clone). Soon Pooter showed up on his motard and even Dave Harrington rolled in on his scooter after not long. I hadn’t expected to know anybody at this gig, yet here were so many fun scootheads — here to check out the bikes, the tacos and the chill atmosphere. It was such an eclectic mix of people and machines that the whole thing was downright charming. There was a whole pack of souped-up mopeds, the occasional new-school Triumph, a couple Harleys, and a lot of old Jap bikes like mine. Great stuff — this is going to have to become a regular thing.

I couldn’t stay long. The sun was getting low in the sky and since The Mrs wasn’t with me, I wanted to head home. Just as I fired up the CB650, Ryan, the owner of Bluecat Motors, came by on his way to another bike. We couldn’t talk too well since my earplugs were in and my helmet was on, but it was good to see him again. He’s the one who got me into this stuff, after all. Him and his groovy little shop. On my way down the connecting street, I gave the CB650 the customary too much throttle — making my motorcycle exit in a loud howling roar of four Japanese cylinders for everybody in the lot to hear. Damn, it sounded good.

In November, I reached the two year riding mark. I’ve now ridden about 10,000 miles on four different scooters. In short, it’s been a blast. This is easily one of the best things I’ve ever gotten into. But as fun as the riding has been, I’ve enjoyed the people even more. From the fine folks at Scooterville and Blue Cat Motors to the local crazies like Dave Harrington, Kent Aldrich, and Pooter. Scooter people are the best. This season really has been great — full of fun rides, another great Rattle My Bones rally, and lots of seat time on my Vespa. The biggest difference for me from last year was just how much more regular riding I did this season. Summer was wonderfully temperate, even if Autumn was a bit wet. Still, I commuted on my scooter much more often than I did last year and about twice as far each way. And though I never got sick of it, I did sometimes struggle to reclaim that joy of riding for riding’s sake. I’m sure a winter of ride itch will cure me of that very soundly.

2009 was also the start of the ride log here on my website. I’d been blogging about scooter stuff from time to time, but 2009 was my opportunity to really chronicle the whole season. So in case you missed them, I’ve listed my ride logs for the 2009 riding season. Keeping them has been so much fun and I sincerely hope they’ve been entertaining. Here’s to year three! Here’s to 2010! Keep it shiny side up, everybody.

October
Make up your damn mind!
Epic autumn meandering
Ingenious contraption

September
The start of autumn / new tires

August
Then the dipstick fell off
Tiny planes
Rattle My Bones 2009
RMB Check Ride #3
Home Safe
RMB Check Ride #2

July
Bearded Lady 2009

June
RMB Check Ride #1
Los Vesparados

May
Sunset Parkway
Commute!
Pilot Knob
One wheel in front of the other

April
New Helmet
Urban Touring
Medicine Lake Meandering
Country Road
The Wobble Strikes Back
Wobble, Wobble, Wobble
Bob’s Cycle Supply
Como Zoo
More Tire Trouble
No Outlet
Stupid Mistake
Errant Errands

March
Ice Road Scooter
Why I rode my scooter today
Scooter Season 2009 is officially on!

October 31, 2009 — With The Mrs out of town visiting friends, the nearly 60º weather today meant I simply had to get on my Vespa while I still could. Weather lately has been gloomy at best. With the wettest October in the history of civilization, I had pretty much given up hope on doing any more riding in 2009. Weather forecasts now look like rideable weather all week long. I’m not really complaining, it’s just that I thought we were done. I’ve already started winterizing the scooters! And by winterize, I mean run stabilized fuel through both scooters until they run out of gas, then park them for the winter. Thankfully, neither bike is fully empty yet, so I was able to make it to a nearby station and fill up for a much needed ride.

My route was nothing remarkable, other than the simple fun of being out on a scooter. I wound my way up Hwy 13 through the Mendota area and into St. Paul. I crossed over the Smith Ave. bridge, which is one of the most spectacular views of the St. Paul skyline you’re going to find anywhere in the city. Taking 5th St. back up to Snelling via Montreal, I eventually wound up on Ford Parkway headed back toward Minneapolis. Presented with the Mississippi, I did something I don’t normally do. I headed upstream on the river parkway on the St. Paul side of the river. Usually I go downstream to catch Minnehaha Parkway via the Minneapolis side. I’m so glad I deviated. I wound my way through the U of M campus and eventually crossed over on Franklin on the 10th Avenue bridge just parallel to the infamous 35W bridge. Heading back toward Eagan, it was great fun to be racing nothing but the sunset. I had nowhere I needed to be, and nobody who needed my attention. Just me and my Vespa. La vita dolce!

I’ve been stuck in the house with a cold since Wednesday night and hadn’t been on my Vespa since last Saturday. I was itching for some road time. Weather was in the 50s. That’s just cool enough to separate the casual riders from the enthusiasts. Specifically I wanted to investigate Lilydale Road —  a scenic looking side road I’d seen on last Saturday’s ride up Sibley Memorial Highway.

As I waited for the turning arrow at the junction of Highway 13 and SMH, I saw something remarkable across the intersection. I saw something that had seemingly jumped out of the drawing board in my head and on to the road. It was a recumbent trike retrofit with a small gasoline engine. I couldn’t help but wave at the guy and give him a hearty “you rock” gesture with my two outer fingers extended. He laughed and returned my wave. My arrow turned green and I pulled off to the side of the road after making my turn. He pulled over too once the light let him through the intersection and we chatted about our respective rides. His was just DIY fantastic — a brilliant assembly of mostly off-the-shelf parts and a few simple pieces of custom aluminum. He told me about a number of different tinker projects he had going on and the genesis of this one in particular. Apparently, depending on what final drive sprocket he uses, he can get this machine up to 60 mph with the 140cc Honda engine he’s using. Today he had his “40 mph” sprocket installed and was out for a quick cruise after a tire repair curious how well it would climb hills.

He was as much a character as his machine. “I’ll show you.” he said as we pulled away from the shoulder. I’d place this gentleman in at least his 60s. He had mischievous retiree written all over him. We cruised a couple miles and I had so much fun watching his machine do its thing. The rear wheels of the trike had a healthy amount of camber on them, which seemed to really add to stability in the corners. The engine and drive wheel trailed behind eagerly — creating a look that was instantly recognizable as DIY — but really well executed DIY. Most noticeably, the little trike just seemed to get on effortlessly. At no point did it seem like he was hanging on for dear life or having to wrangle it into doing something it didn’t want to do.

We stopped and chatted again and he told me some harrowing tales about a broken throttle cable. The disk brakes weren’t enough to overcome the power of the motor, and he finally had to find his way up onto the sidewalk and ditch it into a hedge. He told this story all too nonchalantly. Great guy, great machine. It’s not exactly what I have in mind to build, but it has my mind racing with possibilities.

The second great part of the ride was Lilydale Road. I soon recognized it as part of the Rattle My Bones history ride route from a year ago. It’s an isolated but smooth little two lane that much to my surprise opened up into a fantastically scenic little river lane. A tunnel of trees gave way to a colorful panorama of the opposite bank of the merged Mississippi and Minnesota rivers. It wound its way along the river and inserted me into downtown St. Paul as though through a secret entrance, right next to the St. Paul Yacht Club. That fabulous route, plus my new tires, equalled total riding bliss. With the St. Paul riverfront sprawled before me, I was pleasantly satisfied with my outing. It was chilly enough and I’m still runny nosed enough that it was time to head home. I retraced my tracks and this little stretch of road is my new favorite route. I’m going to make a point of riding it as much as I can before the end of this riding season. Anybody want to come along?

The Mrs and I headed out for a lovely late afternoon ride through Mendota Heights, St. Paul, across the river, around Lake Harriet and back. I’ve spent so much of this riding season commuting the 34 mile round trip back and forth to work that I’ve almost forgotten how to ride for the sheer joy of it. Autumn is renewing that for me. Some new rubber is helping also.

A week ago, Scooterville installed a pair of Heidenau K61 sport tires on my Vespa GT. The OEM Vespa tires are simply awful. Their cross-tread pattern is noisy, wears quickly and unevenly, and puts a hum through the whole bike because there are so many little patches of rubber and tread to push through. My rear had also worn almost completely bald down the center in less than 4000 miles. Even worse, the tire had cupped very badly. This shook and shimmied the bike at various speeds and now I understand just how much tires had to do with the wobble I dealt with earlier this season. That’s all over now. These new Heidenau K61s are amazing! My Vespa is now silky smooth and amazingly grippy in the corners. What’s more, the smoother tread pattern means noticeably less rolling friction. So my Vespa is actually now quicker with these new tires, or so it seems. More than anything, the change in handling is outstanding — at least once I got the tire pressure figured out.

The GT series Vespas are actually very sensitive to tire pressure front to back. The rear tire is supposed to be at about 34 psi and the front at 26 psi. This differential is actually critical to how the bike handles. When I first got the bike back from Scooterville, both tires were at about 36 psi and the bike was alive. The front end was especially twitchy. But once I adjusted the tire pressure up front, the handling was just butter. In fact, where the Vespa was a bit tentative in corners on the old rubber, now it turns in eagerly and holds a deep lean with no trouble at all. This increase in grip has made a profound difference and I’m falling in love with the Vespa all over again. Just in time for autumn.

High points
When The Mrs and I swapped scoots at an empty parking lot. She rode the GT around for a while and I zipped after her on her pink Buddy. Very fun to appreciate the differences in character and performance between two scooters that at first glance might seem very similar. She’s now interested in the NCY suspension upgrades available for the Buddy. Can’t blame her — that Vespa is very comfortable.

Low points
None really. We rode into the setting sun for a while and had to divert around some road construction, but that’s all part of urban adventure riding!

Los Vesparados: The Art of the Scooter
Ride Log: Los Vesparados

I gear up and hop on the Vespa for what was going to be a leisurely ride over the Mendota bridge then up Minnehaha Parkway over to Lake Calhoun. Everything was going just swimmingly. I’m passing cars and zipping up Hiawatha Avenue ready to turn on E. 54th Street to connect with Minnehaha Parkway. As I squeezed the brakes for the intersection, I noticed right away that something wasn’t right. My stopping power was greatly diminished. Stopped at the light, I squeezed the brakes independently and sure enough, it was like I had no rear brake at all. That’s no good. I pull completely off the road behind a row of cars parked for access to the fantastic Minnehaha dog park. No sooner had I set the center stand when I saw my problem: my engine oil dipstick was gone. Poof! Vanished! There was hot oil absolutely everywhere, including my boot. That explained the rear brake weakness. It must have wiggled its way loose over time and finally dropped off somewhere along the way.

I shut the engine off straight away and thanked the Maker that I hadn’t seized the motor from lack of oil. If the Vespa weren’t liquid cooled, I very well probably would have. I looked to where I’d come from and saw a distinct and messy trail of oil in a long line and several puddles that ultimately culminated in a hot, stinky pool of brown underneath my engine. I couldn’t believe how much oil I’d left on the ground. There isn’t much crankcase oil in a scooter to begin with — about a quart — there just couldn’t have been much left. So much for Wheels of Italy. Now I’m stuck sitting in the noon day sun waiting for a tow. On Twitter:

I called The Mrs, TM’d Bree, then gave a call to Vespa Roadside Assistance. Because it’s Sunday, Scooterville (and every other bike shop for that matter) was closed and wouldn’t be open again until Tuesday. There was Leo’s South in Lakeville, but that’s a bit of a trek on a tow truck. I called Leo’s and they didn’t have a dipstick plug anyway, so that was no good. My preference would have been to drop the bike off at Scooterville, but with nobody there I didn’t want to just leave it in the parking lot where somebody would vandalize or steal it. It didn’t hit me until an hour later, as the tow truck arrived, that all that was really wrong was a missing screw-in part. I can fix that. Let’s just go home.

After an hour of waiting and walking back up the road looking for my missing plug, the tow truck arrived. Bob, my new tow guy, and I, got the Vespa strapped down and headed the 10 miles back to my garage. Good thing too. Had we taken it all the way to Lakeville I would have been beyond the 12 mile radius where Vespa is fitting the full bill. So in this case, just going home saved me about $50. Now I just need to procure a new plug, change the oil twice for good measure, and remember to always give that little bastard a tightening turn before I go anywhere from now on.

I only attended two of the rally’s four days, which is what I’ve done every year. The rally technically starts on Thursday night with a cities-wide scavenger hunt. I’m not from this area, so my ability to find obscure landmarks is not going to be even remotely competitive. So my rally always starts on Friday with the history ride. This year John took us to two great locations: the Sibley and Farbough homes and historical Fort Snelling where the Mississippi and Minnesota rivers meet. We went to these locations last year as well, but this year we got guided tours at both locations. Very cool. I know that historical sites aren’t everybody’s cup of tea. But our group of 25-30 scooters had a great time reliving the early days of Minnesota.

Like last year, I helped block this ride as a warm up for the big Saturday ride. It was good practice — took me a few intersections to get my rhythm back. Soon enough though, it all came back to me. Decked out in orange, flag waving off my mirror, zipping by the caravan of scooters — it’s a rush. After our tours, hundreds of scooters gathered at Scooterville for the four separate Friday night rides: vintage, modern shifter, twist-and-go, and virgin groups. I arrived at Scooterville a while before the action. I wanted to see everybody trickle in. I wasn’t disappointed. Soon the place was overrun with scooters of every stripe. Fabulous. My favorite was Kent arriving on his 1957 Triumph Tessy — and he didn’t just have a great vintage scooter, he had an outfit to go with it. Each group left with a handful of blockers and made their way to the 331 Club. My favorite part of that ride was crossing paths the other groups here and there as we made our way to 331. Blocking was a challenge, with just a couple of us per group, but thankfully everybody made it without incident. There was food, there were shenanigans, everybody seemed to have a great time. The Mrs and I took off relatively early to tend to our pups, but I figure the party went on well into the night.

August 15, 2009 — As far as I’m concerned, Saturday is the rally. It’s breakfast at Square Peg. It’s the big ride. It’s the Gymkhana. This year did not disappoint. Seeing a parking lot full of scooters is always highly entertaining. Joe, our fearless ride leader, asked me to give the rider briefing. We reviewed hand signals and basic formation, but I think the smartest thing we did was ask everybody to lay off using their horns so that we blockers could use ours to alert the pack to our movements. That made a big difference in our ability to move through the group and keep everybody together. I was greatly relieved to see that our crew of blockers had grown considerably from our check rides. We had a nice little squadron of blockers and with flags flapping and orange vests donned it felt like we were the RAF ready to defend London. The ride went off without a hitch and with very few breakdowns — most notably our illustrious event coordinator, Kent, who was supposed to be our caboose. Thankfully, he was up and running within a few minutes and finished the second half of the ride bringing up the rear.

Just like last year, Blue Cat Motors hosted lunch, the Gymkhana, and the rest of the day’s shenanigans. Lunch was greek pittas and the gymkhana got running right away. I have to give huge credit to Pooter for organizing a great course. Last year, the gymkhana didn’t get rolling very quickly and the obstacles were pretty intimidating. Only a few people participated and one of the obstacles was actually broken before the event got going at all. This year, Pooter took it upon himself to not only get the event going right away, but he built a course that was challenging and that anybody could ride. Folks lined up in droves and several people rode the course more than once. Scooterville’s Steve Anderson gave side car rides to kids during the action. Great fun. The obstacle course was followed by the tractor pull, and then the slow race. Great stuff. I got lots of photos and lots of video. I’m really impressed with the ease and quality of video I could take with the iPhone. Sadly, the paintball jousting got cut off this year when the skies opened up with rain. Folks scattered, myself included, but it’d been a great day regardless.

High points
Oddly enough, the history tour was my favorite part. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the whole event and all the scooter parts, but seeing what was essentially the birthplace of Minnesota and the great collection of artifacts and objects that went with that was just great. I also especially enjoyed meeting new area scooterists and even some readers!

Low points
My only regret in blocking the big ride was that I didn’t get to really do the ride with the group. I was so focused on staying safe and blocking intersections that I didn’t really get to experience the spectacle of so many bikes snaking their way across the countryside. It’s a small price to pay, but maybe next year I’ll only block half the ride.

Five people showed up.

Last year we had at least a dozen or so people on some of the check rides. This is kind of disconcerting. I’m sure people will jump in day of and help out, but it makes a big difference to know where the heck you’re going. I suppose that’ll be part of the adventure this time ’round.

We ran the route once again and I do like it more and more each time we do it. This is a much easier route than last year’s winding, 75 mile trek through the Grand Rounds and around Lake Minnetonka. Although I must say, for all its complexity and what seemed like 1,000 intersections to block, you just can’t top those two staples of Twin Cities riding. When I’m looking for a great route to ride, those or the first two routes on my list. But for the rally, it’s not really about the route at all. The big ride, as organizer Kent Aldrich will readily admit, is about spectacle. It’s a parade. It’s a mile-and-a-half long snake of buzzing scooters completely taking over the road for a few minutes. The average speed of the ride is going to be about 25 mph, which is what we ran the route at today. It takes a while, but that’s kind of the point. It’s going to be so much fun. Part of me wishes I could just take it easy and be part of the pack, but the thrill of zipping past the group 40 mph faster is just too good to pass up.

High points
The highlight for me was Diego and Santiago both showing up on their Genuine Blur 150s. I rode a Blur last season, and save for the awful saddle on it, it’s one of the most brilliant scooters available anywhere. I have no regrets about my switch to my Vespa GT, but seeing not one but two Blurs in our group was oddly emotional. I like to think that machines have some sort of spirit. Not a soul, per say, but some sort of fabulous energy that comes from so many components coming together by someone’s design to do a specific thing. The Blur is definitely that way — any scooter, really. Hearing that familiar exhaust note each time we left a stop — then especially a couple times when Santiago went flying past me in fast turns — it was almost like seeing an old, estranged friend or even an ex-girlfriend. It didn’t make me want to trade back, but it did make me wish I could have both — especially when later I found out that Genuine is bringing over a 220cc EFI version of the Blur.

Low points
The poor turnout. Sure, it was still a fun ride, but I’m just hoping that we have enough actual blockers come Saturday. If we have the 230+ riders we had last year, we’re going to need them.

This is only my second truly close call with another vehicle, but this one was much, much closer than the previous incident. Usually close calls and oblivious, cell phone absorbed drivers just piss me off. This time I didn’t have that same gut reaction — that visceral rage. Mostly I just felt relief. I’d done what I was supposed to do in that situation. I grabbed as much brake as I safely could and held my line. I didn’t try to brake and swerve at the same time — a common newbie rider mistake that will dump your bike every time.

My only irritation is that I let my attention wonder for just a brief second before it happened. I’d passed several emergency vehicles in the previous few minutes and just before this situation unfolded a fire truck had emerged sirens and lights ablaze from a side street on my left, headed in the opposite direction. I changed lanes from the left lane to the right lane just to be sure I was out of the way. I looked back over my shoulder, then forward just in time to see the Jeep turning in front of me. Had I been paying proper attention, I would have anticipated his turn and probably would have been completely stopped by the time he swung out in front of me. A valuable lesson to learn. Eyes front, soldier. I said a short prayer of thanks, slowed down a bit, and made my way home without further incident. This certainly hasn’t turned me off to riding, simply emphasized how important it is to take riding seriously. It’s all part of artfully dangerous living.

High points
An otherwise very enjoyable ride home in fabulous weather. I’ve also finally found a smooth and expedient route home. Also seeing that my instincts have been well trained. I did the right thing for the situation. There’s comfort in that. I stayed calm. I didn’t panic. I kept it shiny side up and lived to ride another day.

Low points
Being reminded of the ever-present dangers involved in riding scooters on city streets. It’s sobering, but it’s lessons well learned.