July 30, 2006
scooter article
The Denver Post has an interesting, infuriating article on scooters called Scooter Nation: Scoot over, road hogs. Make vroom for "motorized bicyclists," who are driven by saving money and the environment..
This was written because Amerivespa and another nation scooter rally are happening in Denver this weekend.
First of all, motorized bicycles? WTF?
There are bicycles. There are electric-assist bicycles (these look like regular bicycles, but have a discreet throttle for the electric assist). There are mopeds (which are gas powered bicycles with a heavier body, sort of a cross between a bike and a scooter). A scooter is a motorcycle engine put into a cute frame designed for European housewives to do their shopping in their pencil skirts and high heels.
And then the whole saving money and the environment thing. No. Scooterists may want to save money. They may have environmentalist tendencies similar to the rest of the nation.
I know that there are tons of new scooters and scooterists out there, who are riding because it's cheaper gas-wise. I know this because I give them the secret scooterist-motorcyclist wave and get absolutely no response.
But, for the most part, old school scooterists scoot because it's a blast. (And real old school scooterists ride 2-strokes, which are really anything but environmentalist)
Yeah, it is cheaper for me to park at my fav garage downtown with the scooter. Yeah, it's cheaper gas wise. But it's hardly any hardship for me to scoot. And it's so much damn fun.
permalink July 30, 2006 | Comments (1)
May 4, 2006
going down
This has been a crazy week. By tomorrow noon, I'll have had four appointments in five days—nuts, I tell you, nuts.
Today, coming back from career dude, I went down on the scoot.
It was like this. I was riding, la-ti-dah, and then the person in the SUV in front of me slammed on her brakes and so I slammed on my brakes. Hard. I don't recall if I looked for a way out. All I know is that I lost a few seconds, and found myself on the ground, still on the scoot, with the motor still running.
Adrenaline is a crazy thing. I immediately stood up, picked up the 350# bike, and got it over to a parking place. The woman in the SUV was out of the vehicle to check on me. I'm fine!
And really, I am. To my tremendous shock, I might have a couple small bruises, but there wasn't any sign of friction on my clothing, or on the scoot.
...
As I think about all the things I want to do with my life, finding a new longer commute has not been amongst them. But what happens if I do, um, find a job in the Silicon Forest? What if I get a good opportunity? The biking infrastructure for the west side sucks!
I just did the math, using the standard driving deduction of .32 cents a mile. A month's worth of commuting would cost $153. I don't know if that even really covers gas. Assuming a 24 mile round trip commute, that's probably about a gallon a day, or $3 in the car. For the scoot, I would get about two days roundtrip to a gallon of gas. Shessh!
And public transit isn't that great either. Yes, I can get there... in 69 minutes, taking 3 different buses.
permalink May 4, 2006 | Comments (3)
April 25, 2006
the teddy bear parade
I began this, long ago, on Sunday, and I was achey all over. My legs, my arms, my back—all sorts of underused muscles are all going, what the hey?
Yesterday, we had an adventure. We rode to The Dalles and back on the scoots.
It started, as these things do, insanely early. Get up, get gas, get bears. With a giant grey koala and a somewhat smaller goldish bear, we meet up with a friend and go over the river and through the woods to the ringleader's house. After krispykre@ms and much discussion of motorcycles running and not running, we hit the road.
The top deck of the Marquam bridge, a freeway bridge, is scary on a scooter. The winds are heavy, the traffic nuts, everything seeming to conspire against us.
I had been hoping for surface streets, which don't go all the way to The Dalles, but would cut the freeway portions into smaller chunks. Mais non. It was freeway all the way.
Things got exciting when we appeared to have dropped a rider, though by the time we got over to the shoulder, he came riding up. Then there was the gorge wind, always a bit much, and passing at over 80mph. I knew my scooter could do it, but it seemed a bit foolhardy to see how much of it I could do.
So I was already uncomfortable and cold, in spite of many layers. I need a better neck gaiter, I need better gloves and arm warmers, I need some sort of legwarmers. And they need to be not just wool but also something wind resistant.
Anyways. In the best of times, going to The Dalles in the car takes about an hour and a half. On the scooter/motorcycle entourage, it was two hours of some of the most unpleasant scootering you can imagine.
But it was all redeemed when we got to The Dalles.
We had seen tons, metric tons, of motorcycles on the highway. Meetups of a dozen, dozen and a half bikers in Troutdale, collections of Harleys, collections of Japanese bikes.
We pull off the highway into West The Dalles, which is this frontage road of big box stores and fast food, and the street is lined with motorcycles, and with people ready to watch the parade. Dude!
As far as the eye can see, motorcycles. Trikes. No scooters. Not a one.
Soon enough, everyone gets ready to ride in the parade. A man gives me a pink teddy bear, which I stuff between my sideview and my steering column—the gold bear is on the other side. My helmet safe under the seat, we start to ride the parade route at a rousing 9 mph.
Because this is the Cherry Festival, with Cherries Gone Wild!as the theme, we're not the only game in town. There's some old cars and well, I know there has to be other stuff going on as well.
But for the time being, we are it! We loop around downtown The Dalles. Everyone appears to be out on the sidewalk, waving and cheering. The sun is out, and it's gorgeous. It's pretty darn cool. I wave like a parade princess, trying to look tall and majestic on my goofy blue scooter.
And quickly enough, it's over. We're giving our teddy bears to cub scouts with bags that are as tall as they are, which is to say, not that tall. And everyone is wandering around looking at other bikes, talking about bikes, bikes, bikes, bikes.
...
After lunch and some hang out time, we head back towards Portland. We take the historic highway back as far as Mosier, where it ends. Then the freeway to Hood River. Then we drive through HR.
On the way out of HR, I decide to check out the place that Sweetie and I stayed the first time we made an out of town trip: the Meredith Motel in West Hood River. We ride up the frontage road, where it appears that the majority of businesses have gone out of business.
And then, at the end of the road, a somewhat forlorn Meredith, looking dusty. We ride up, and there's writing on the walls, literally. Beds, frames, tables, lamps, air conditioners, fridges had all been for sale. One unit has its air conditioner removed, with its hole left open and exposed. Devoid of furniture, the motel isn't charming; it's sad. And there isn't even a note. There is no evidence if the motel closed on Friday, or last year.
(And the web site is stuck in time, as if they were still open)
Just east of Multnomah Falls, the historic highway starts up again. We ride it into Troutdale, and surface streets back home.
...
This is how I know I'm a wuss. I was so tired when we got home at 4 that I could have gone to bed for the night. And the next day, the both of us are walking around like old people. My thighs, my butt, my back, my arms—all seriously sore. Our faces and heads and hands, sunburned. What fun!
permalink April 25, 2006 | Comments (4)
September 20, 2005
Lots of links, lots of distractions
I just walked by one of the HR people, who had a giant binder on her desk: What to do about Personnel Problems. The spine looks like this:
What do do about
Personnel Problems
(I can't help feeling that I am a personnel problem. Outsourcing. Ugh.)
I love my sweetie's bike. Love, love, love. I go up that damned ramp up from the Esplanade to Holladay Street, and it's work, but not unending, thigh-searing, why-does-g-d-hate-me? work. Up the hill from the Rose Quarter, that's okay too. I even recover in time to be able to charge through intersections.
Today someone asked me if it was a folding bike. I thought of the cool Brompton I saw the other day, which folds up so small you can put it under your desk, and I realized that this guy was not a bike nerd—he was just making conversation. Which is fine too.
Today it is cool and sunny, and I had that wonderful synchronism of feeling like the pedals were natural extensions of my legs. The transfer of power, the small movements in my feet, it all affects the ride. I just felt like I could do that all day, and not be happier.
There have been a couple of interesting bicycling stories circulating: the principal who rides to school, the teachers who get paid (sorta) to bike-commute, and now, the bike messenger whose food costs are reimbursed! These are all via Treehugger, mostly via cyclelicio.us.
Cyclelicio.us also posts a public service announcement about protecting your bike from bike theft.
Finally, something not about bicycles. Here's a Vespa video. It's no LambrettTwist, but it's enjoyable in its own way.
permalink September 20, 2005 | Comments (4)
September 12, 2005
Selective amnesia
I had a nice bike ride in this morning. It's amazing to me how restorative these rides are. I had a bad night's sleep, I'm in a funk, but for the 20 minutes of my ride, everything is going to come out okay.
Yesterday, my sweetie and I decided to scooter part of the route for Portland to Coast. We got a couple miles into my leg, leg 20, and once we hit the gravel road, decided to turn back. What's scary is that I really don't remember walking the route. I remember looking out the window of the van, but, my first leg -- not bloody much.
Incredible. This was just a couple weeks ago.
Perhaps the highlight of the ride, however, was coming across this skeleton of a boat beneath the St. Johns Bridge.
permalink September 12, 2005 | Comments (2)
September 8, 2005
My night with two Rivas
I had a breakthrough yesterday at work, and I am now feeling a lot better. It's just a little thing, but it's so exciting. I'm learning!
Last night I biked home on a different route: crossing the Hawthorne bridge, taking 3rd through the Eastside Industrial Area, cutting over onto MLK and riding on the sidewalk for a couple blocks, and then up 2nd. The hill was more gradual, but riding on the sidewalk on MLK, next to 4 lanes of slow moving cars, made me feel kinda like an idiot. So that's out.
It occurred to me that most 3 speeds are geared: hill, flat, downhill. Though mine is geared: hill, hill, flat. I wonder if there's anything I (or more likely, the bike shop) can do to extend my range?
...
Maybe I'm more aware of this than most, but it seems amongst many scooterists, a vintage metal scooter (Vespa, Lambretta, AllState, IWL,...) is the right thing to ride. Unfortunately, these often require a lot of tinkering to keep them going. So I ride my reliable plastic asian scooter, and wish it was just a bit cooler.
This conceit—vintage/metal/european is better than non-vintage/plastic/asian—is barely below the surface in some interactions. I admit, I prefer the looks of the vintage scooters, too. I just don't prefer having something that I have to constantly be coddling.
So, anyways, the group was great. I was so happy to meet up with Riva owners—my first scooter was a Riva, and I loved it—they were nice folks, and a small enough group that we were able to hang out and chat for a while comfortably before taking off. We rode through the NW hills, by the zoo, and then up to Council Crest. It was a beautiful night.
permalink September 8, 2005 | Comments (4)
July 1, 2005
Poop!
It's been kind of a weird 24 hours. I went into therapy happy, and came out weepy. I came back to work and was tremendously productive. Then I rode my bicycle the three blocks to the MAX, to take the train up to my neighborhood, since I have such a short window between work and pilates.
I learned something. While my bike fits nicely on the bus racks, taking it on the MAX is another altogether. It's simply too long. If I hang it from the ceiling hook, the chrome fender is rubbing the ground. If I try to gracefully take it down so I can leave the train, it requires everyone around me to change positions.
I had a nice conversation on the train though, and a pleasant ride back to the house. I put the bike in the shed, and thought—I should get the scooter out, so I can just run in the house, change into my workout gear, and scoot?
I learned something. One, the scooter is really long. (Is this a trend?). Backing it out of the shed is treacherous. I don't know if some motorcycles have a reverse gear, but my scooter doesn't. So, I straddle-walk the 350# behemoth behind me, down a ramp, and past the car. Except, I don't have the angle right, and the scooter's exhaust is right up against the car's front bumper.
I couldn't go forward, because I couldn't push the bike up the ramp. I didn't have my scooter keys, because I only bring the keys I need. If I had had my keys, I could have turned it on, and driven it back up. But I didn't. I was stuck at a 90 degree angle, one side up against the car, holding the damn scoot up. No one was home. None of my neighbors were outside. I was, as we say, screwed.
So I did the only thing I could think to do. I laid the scooter down. Mind you, you never ever ever want to have a motorcycle on its side. The life fluids of the machine can easily drain out. Just add a cigarette and you'll have an big explosion. Or not.
I ran into the house and grabbed my car keys, moved my car, and lifted the motorcycle back up. I didn't even think about its weight or my form—I just did it. So it was on its left side for maybe 2 minutes, probably less.
I then ran back into the house and called the scooter shop. Rob picked up the phone and held my hand. I told him what happened, he asked questions, told me what I should try, and said that most likely it was going to be fine, and if it's not, to call back.
So I went out and checked the tiny rivulet of fluid. It was already dry, and I couldn't smell anything. So, I tried starting the scooter. It was flooded. While I figured this probably wasn't a big deal rationally, it felt like a huge deal. And I needed to have gotten to pilates ten minutes ago!
So I drove to pilates, all the while wondering if I had completely screwed up my scooter, and why didn't I insist on pursuing the garage idea rather than a shed?
Pilates was good. Hard. Lots of making perfect little circles. The woman who had instructed the ball class was there, and seemed bored all through it. I can't imagine being bored. Even on the exercises where I can do an entire set, it's work, hello!!
Jill and I chatted a little bit, then I went over to the Salvadorian tacqueria to pick up some pupusas. I had never been in, so I was pleased to see that the place was packed full of people. I ordered and then sat down and watched the telenovela on the TV on top of the fridge. There's something about men acting agressive and women acting catty and looking very european and expensive that is very satisfying. I also listened in on a conversation at an ajoining table.
The table had seven women, all reasonably young moms, most with infants in tow. They were having a great time, and I was loving the spanglish, how conversations went from spanish to english to spanish to spanglish effortlessly. I really wanted to join them. If only I spoke spanish!
I collected the pupusas and came home. Sweetie had started up the scooter -- it was running fine. And he had had a tuneup, with new tires, taillight and rack added on his scooter, and he said it handles 100% better. I can't wait to try it out.
So in the end, we had a nice evening. We ate the pupusas, which were really good, and watched some awful TV, and hung out with the animals.
I was hoping to spring out of bed like I did yesterday, but no. And then I found that my beloved dog had pooped by the backdoor. Lovely.
We have the strangest dog. We don't walk him very often because he becomes a nervous wreck, so we usually just let him out into the back yard. Very infrequently, he will just run out and poop, on his own, but most of the time, you have to tell him to poop, and make sure that he poops. Yes, we have a dog that poops on command, sorta.
But if you just let him outside and you don't make sure he poops, well, maybe he won't.
This is the second poop by the door incident. And it might not be the dog. It might be the world's largest cat poop. Yeah, right.
So I decided to do 15 minutes of my favorite form of gardening, killing weeds. My backyard butterfly bush is completely covered with blackberry and clematis, so I set out to kill a small section of it. And it was a small section, but so thoroughly satisfying to make it so.
I rode the scooter in—no problems. Hurrah! And the weekend looms. I'm looking so forward to some free time, some walking, some scooting, and a race!
permalink July 1, 2005 | Comments (3)
June 29, 2005
Diversion
I saw this a few days ago, and it's been occupying part of my brain since. So, that's the warning. But if you're in the mood for a catchy jingle, and some scooter eyecandy, and/or if you speak Italian, you might really like this:
http://www.cristiancontini.it/images/LambrettTwist.mpg
permalink June 29, 2005 | Comments (4)
June 27, 2005
Filling up, and spilling over
I got a project done that I've been sweating at work, then went home on Friday. My stress level had hit a new high, and my body was just not cooperating. Though, amazingly, I felt much better when I got home. No doubt the bike ride helped. Though the bike ride hurt too. I just wasn't feeling that great, and the trek up the hill wasn't that fun.
Saturday morning, I thankfully felt okay. I ran late, as usual, and missed seeing the purples step off, so I got a map and just started walking. It was overcast and cool—it looked like it might rain. I decided, for some reason, that I would do intervals.
I have no idea where I got this, so don't try this at home, but the intervals I decided to do were based on the alarms on my heart rate monitor. So first I warmed up for 15 minutes. Then, I walked as fast and hard as I could until I hit 85% HR. Then, I'd slack until I hit 65%. Rinse, repeat. Except, once I started to catch up with humanity, or as humanity began to catch up with me, I'd start speeding up when I was trying to slow down, or vice versa.
So I did the intervals for the first 6 miles. Now you might be saying to yourself, gosh, I don't think that VJ has talked about doing any real walking for weeks, and you would be, in fact, correct, so why did I think that doing intervals would be a good idea? Well, why indeed? Suffice to say: they were not a good idea.
But, in spite of that, I was very happy to be out on a real walk. I got thinking about my walking route website idea and got really into it. I was enjoying saying hi to people, and looking at things, noticing the madrone growing along the trail, complete with hacking homeless person. Hmm, does he have TB? Yikes. I liked looking up at the road, way up high, and the caverns carved out by homeless people. I liked seeing the giant eagles nests on platforms above the electrical towers. I saw two crosses along the route, up off the trail, and I wondered who and why?
A runner who looked incredibly like Athanasia Tsoumeleka (the 2004 Olympic Racewalking champion) stopped and pointed out a bald eagle, perched on a stump in the swamp. The eagle appeared to be just hanging out, waiting for breakfast, and enjoying a little out-of-the-nest-time. I watched it for a long time. Then, as I softened my focus on the entire swamp, I could see that it was entirely infested with blue herons. I've never seen so many in one place ever.
I also spotted a beaver. In the wild. Damn!
So, the non-intervals 6 miles was less fun. I was moving slow, heart-rate was up, and I kept thinking about this Mac store in town that was having a garage sale, and it really was on the way back into town. I'd just need to walk, I dunno, six blocks out of the way. But I was afraid that if I did, I'd not finish the walk. Well, yes. So, I finished the walk. Slowly.
Afterwards, I did run to the garage sale, and it was just eMacs and G4 towers at that point. Poop. I talked to one of the sales guys, and he said that everything good was gone by 9:30. It was 10:30 now. Oh well.
After the ice bath and lunch, Sweetie and I went scootering to do some errands. We stopped at Ptown, we stopped at my fav yarn shop, and then, we spotted the Multnomah County Bike Fair, so we stopped and checked it out.
One of the things I absolutely love about Portland is its embrace of the kooky quirky contingent. Here, there are two types of bicyclists, not entirely mutually exclusive: there's the serious spandex-wearing bicyclists riding expensive fast bikes that do Seattle-to-Portland and Cycle Oregon—the athletes, and then there are the d-i-y bicycles, usually riding hand-me-downs or thrifted bikes, wearing, well, not a lot of spandex—the human-powered activists.
We have a local organization, Shift2Bikes, that tends more towards the latter. They do a monthly breakfast on the bridges for bicyclists, and they have a great calendar that you can post your bike events. They sponsored Pedalpalooza this year, and thus, the MCBF.
The fair was full of all sorts of quirky, d-i-y stuff. A smoothie stand whose blenders were powered by a bike with a generator. Our local zine folks. And, a stage area for performances, music and bicycle related.
I was so excited and I immediately started talking about bicycling down to the park. Sweetie reminded me that I had just overdone it, and maybe I should hold off on the cycling. Okay.
After a nap and a quick dinner, I scooted back to the Fair to do some documentation. I got there at the end of the last event, the Tallbike jousting, damn it! But as I hung out, there was suddenly this free-for-all, where lots of people were jumping on their bikes and riding around in circles. There were tall bikes, of course, a homemade recumbent whirly-bike, a longbike, and lots and lots of people enjoying themselves.
It was just beautiful. Here it was, a sunny warm evening, with the shade from trees here and there, and lots of people were out. Normal looking people, and people who had obviously dressed for the occasion. Vibrant and alive.
I want to be part of this. Yes!
The highlight of the next day was getting the strawbales. I promised myself, if I cut the grass, I'd see if any Feed and Seeds were open, and there was one. So I hightailed over there, got a couple of galvanized containers that I'll use as planters (thanks Fran!), and then decided to get strawbales.
See, you can build raised bed garden plots with strawbales. I've done it before.
So, I bought 4. I had sweetie's truck, and I was surprised to see that three fit nicely in his bed, but the fourth one had to go on top. Hell, the last time I bought straw bales, I was single, and I got 4 of them in my car, which is not terribly big.
Did I tie it down? Why tie it down? Ha ha ha ha! So of course, the bale flew off the truck in the middle of an intersection, in the middle of two 5 lane roads.
I managed to get the damn thing out of the street. But then I found that I couldn't lift it. Even by the strings. Damn it! Long story shorter, it was the help of strangers, 4 of them, that got the bale back into the truck, where I tied it down.
permalink June 27, 2005 | Comments (5)
June 21, 2005
a lot of transportation
So. To my eternal relief, my sweetie went to the Urgent Care when he got off work yesterday. By the time I scooted over, he was out, for all intensive purposes looking and sounding worse than he had. Talking causes coughing fits, a walk of 500 ft causes wheezing. My poor baby.
He dropped off a prescription at the pharmacy, and then we went off to dinner at the original Pho Van. This was my third time in as many weeks, and we had another spectacular meal. Then, back to pick up the prescription. And then, over to Bike Gallery to pick up the townie.
I definitely had the better end of the deal, riding the scooter. It was a lovely warm night, perfect for a scooter ride. It was beautiful to be outside.
We picked up the townie, which is gorgeous. It now has chrome-looking silver fenders, chrome bullet lights, a back rack, a bell, and a computer. Again, people stopped me to compliment me on the bike. Incredible. We loaded it in the back of Sweetie's truck, and just as we were about to take off, I saw a tandem come down the street. It had a woven reed basket, decorated with plastic flowers and mardigras beads, 50 skadillion horns, and the couple riding it were wearing matching Lif3 is G00d tandem t's.
...
My living room looks so good vacuumed. Oh my gosh! I felt so insanely proud of it. In fact, when we walked into the house, I felt like the living room glowed. It was all I could do this morning not to vacuum again!
Morning is the time for existential crises. What will I wear? Why do I have so many clothes, and nothing to wear? Scooter, or bicycle? I need to take the scooter in for its 1000K checkup, but I bet they'll want to keep it overnight, which will make me sad. It would be so cool to ride the new improved bicycle, but I need to really kick it on the way home to make it in time to change clothes and jump on the scoot for pilates.
I decided in the end to bicycle in, which was great. I had collected a bunch of roses, stemmed wrapped in a wet paper towel, and a vase with stones, which I wedged into the basket next to my purse. All good so far. Until I'm riding, and the roses are trying to commit suicide. Some actually do hit the road. This isn't good.
Meanwhile, I am loving the computer. The last bike also had a computer, which I couldn't figure out how to use. It was really frustrating, and I kept thinking that I should sit down with it and the manual and figure it out. I was kinda expecting the same from this computer, but, ha ha ha, the computer is idiot-proof. I love it! Another proof for the superiority of the Bike Gallery!
There, without me doing anything, is the miles per hour. And the trip odometer. Press the button, and there's the time. Press it again, and there's the timer, which started without me doing anything, when the ride started!! Press it again, and there's the odometer odometer.
So, according to the bike, I made it to work in 20:30, 3.1 miles. Wuhoo! I love data! I probably lost one rose, maybe two, but it's surprising how good the rest of them look.
permalink June 21, 2005 | Comments (2)
June 13, 2005
Decoration
We did, however, have a really good time. We went out to breakfast on the scooters, then on errands, all over town. I got soft silver eyelashy yarn to make into a scooter riding scarf, and learned my new favorite yarn store is getting a tavern license this week. Woo hoo, knitting and beer drinking, what could be better? And, I got some fake flowers to add to my bike basket.
So, I put stickers and devil ducks on the scooter (!!!!), and then I sat down with some floral wire, and added the fake flowers (orchids and roses) to the front of the bike basket. I had big plans of documenting the bike basket, as well as one side of scooter with the flaming rose sticker, but I forgot the camera this morning.
It's probably as well. I was (shock!) running behind, but I still decided to clip some flowers to bring into work. So, I grabbed a milk bottle, washed it out, put some of my new green pebbles in the bottom, and ran out with the clipper. A few minutes later, I had four mirandy buds, a bloom from my Mt. Hood, and some flowering tobacco (nicotiana mutablis), ready to go.
Because it's Monday (joy!), I also had my coffee cup, water bottle and water glass, and I also had my non-biking clothes. In otherwords, I had a pile of stuff. As usual.
So I'm wearing my backpack, and I have my purse and the fresh flowers in milk bottle in the basket. I only had the water about half way full, because I thought that should give enough room for splashing. Ha ha ha! By the time I got halfway to work, the back of my purse was soaked.
It was a great ride though. I decided to go along the Eastbank Esplanade because of the Rose Festival, and it was interesting and enjoyable to watch the Coast Guard boats with their machine guns aimed in my general direction. I usually avoid the Esplanade on a bike because of the ups and downs of it, which generally for me translates into walking the bike and panting.
I did end up having to walk the bike up one hill, but only because I shifted down instead of up or vice versa. But otherwise, the ride in was fun. And there's nothing like riding what looks like a big pink childrens bike for attracting some attention.
permalink June 13, 2005 | Comments (5)
June 9, 2005
I loves a parade
Well, after all my complaining, my contortionist called me and rescheduled, and gave me quite the massage. Her massages are so hard, I feel like it's a feat that I remain laying on the table. At one point she started working on my hip flexors and I just had to say, I can't take it. I can't breathe through this, you have to lighten up.
Perhaps, not surprisingly, I ache more today than the day after the marathon! Allegro might have something to do with it too. Maybe.
...
There has been a thread on the local scooter list about cheap places to park. This morning, I parked for $2. For Portland, for a scooter, that's pretty incredibly cheap. If I park in my building, it's $7.75. I'm psyched.
I hate to actually pay for monthly parking, but on the other hand, it's really tempting. But if I did that, would I walk and bike less than I do now? Hard to say.
...
The Rose Festival is going on here, right now, which makes approaching the waterfront a giant pain in the butt. The intown portion of my commute is right on the waterfront, so there is absolutely no incentive for me to commute under my own power right now.
Though. Today is the first day of Pedalpalooza, which is this celebration of the quirky, creative bike culture here. There's a parade tonight! Damn, what a good excuse to miss pilates!
Because the townie is in the kitchen (still. Let's not go there), and because we have a cat that loves buckets and bags and boxes, we thought it might be fun to, umm, put Nigella in the bike basket. Was it fun? Oh yeah!
permalink June 9, 2005 | Comments (2)
June 2, 2005
stickers for the scoot
I want to tell you that I'm doing better, but it's really touch and go today. What has been most frustrating has been my absentmindedness—remembering that my super-cool scooter hoodie is still on the rack at home when I'm a mile from home on the scooter; remembering my coffee cup, sitting on my desk where I left it, when I walk into the coffee shop. There's more and it's not pretty.
We did a bunch more shed-related activities last night: going and buying weed blocker, sand, and gravel—oh, and light bulbs! We came home, I changed lightbulbs (two out of three of our exterior lightbulbs were dead), and then, I dug up a couple of diseased rosebushes. That was so satisfying. Those rosebushes have been there for ten years, and they've been diseased for ten years, and I'm not entirely sure why I've left them there. But now that they are gone, I feel like there is so much potential for that space.
I still needed to fill up the second hole with the dirt I had removed from it, and move the tiny, tiny shrub rose (literally) from one side of the fence to the other, but it was full-on dark, so I gave up. I figured I'd take care of that stuff this morning. Yeah, right.
This morning, I was much more interested in stickers.
I mentioned to my office mate yesterday that my Electra Bicycle stickers are scheduled to arrive today, and her response was immediately to google "stickers". I swear, she is the fastest googler around. Anyways, she immediately found a sticker selling web site that I found very hard to navigate, but had these occasional glints of genius, and I became obsessed.
My sweetie and I talk a lot about decorating our scooters. He has a large canvas for that sort of thing, but I don't, really. Which doesn't deter me from thinking about it, a lot.
I've been entirely obsessed with decorating it with old school tattoo swallows, and I've been thinking that I'd have to get some tattoo flash, and resize it, and then have a custom sticker made. Which, you know, makes me tired just thinking about it.
But lo, and behold, while this isn't exactly what I wanted, it's pretty damn close.
permalink June 2, 2005 | Comments (9)
May 14, 2005
Funk
Today's been kinda a rough day. I had a rough night, and woke up on time to begin my long day of walking, but then my belly would not cooperate. After missing the window of time to walk to PFit, and then missing the window to ride to PFit, I went back to bed in a funk.
I know I should just dig in and do it. I know that's the party line. But sometimes this all seems like too much. If I do a 21 miler as a LSD, that's 7 hours of walking, plus the ice bath, plus the nap and the eating, and it will take up all the time given to it.
I have two days off. I have PFit one day. It doesn't feel like a lot of time to recooperate from the workweek, get the yard work done, get the errands run, buy groceries. How do other people do this??
And let's face facts, it's a whole lot easier to do a long walk or run with someone else.
I'm back to my long-standing internal discussion. Should I be training for marathons, or halves? Halves are easy, they're humane, and even I can get a 14 mile walk in, but where's the glory in that? I think about the Gorge Marathon, and I have to admit, I'm infatuated by the thought of the hilly beautiful course. Though not infatuated enough to get out for a 21-miler today.
So today, we went out for breakfast at a cute place called the Industrial Cafe and Saloon. We waited over an hour for our breakfast—mine was okay, but sweetie's was overcooked and featured canned mushrooms. As well, the service kinda sucked. They comped us, which was the only redeeming feature to the meal.
After that, we did some scooting... to the library, to sketch out some walks. Coming back from one, we encountered a motorcycle being pushed up an exit ramp—out of gas. So I pulled over, and agreed to give the cyclist's girlfriend a ride to the gas station. The cyclist asked if he could take sweetie's Stella, and to my huge surprise, he agreed. So off we went. It all got a little crazy after we took off from the gas station, and the cyclist on the Stella was nowhere to be seen. Oh dear. So I take the girlfriend back to the Harley, and we wait. He comes tooling up maybe five minutes later, with mud-marks on the sides, and a fresh dent in the Stella. Oh, great. He then announces that he needs to pee and wades into the front yard we've parked in front of, which seemed like the best time to get the hell outta dodge.
There are times, you know, when you want to believe that the media is feeding you a pack of lies, and you don't need to be afraid of other people. And then something like this happens, and you feel like you should have known better, you should have rolled up your windows and looked away. There are times, you know, where you don't want to be the suburban-raised middle-class white girl—you want to trust that others aren't going to screw you over.
I've been dying, for weeks, to take someone for a ride. I finally got to. The girlfriend looked like she weighed 90# soaking wet. I didn't notice any difference in the ride at all!
permalink May 14, 2005 | Comments (1)
April 19, 2005
Mistress of the Grand Dink
Today is better. While I had myself a good pity party yesterday, maybe I just needed that, because I felt almost human leaving work. And the new mascara withstands tears, and splashing cold water. I had a snack with my darling, and then we went off to do our separate scootering.
I took the scooter downtown for a special foodie French meal at Carafe, but I was really early, so I decided to go on a little ride. I decided to go up the Broadway Hill.
Long ago and far away, when I first moved to Portland, I had a marketing job in the Portland Hills, and I had an old Toyota which my then-partner had gotten in several wrecks with. To get to work, I'd have to go up the Broadway Hill, and it was nerve-wracking—trying to get the fastest possible running start, then gearing down, and gearing down again, and heaven help me if someone wanted to turn onto Broadway. I love driving, and this was killing me!
So how would the scooter do? Brilliantly. Absolutely brilliantly! Damn! It was so much fun! So I went up Broadway, and came back down Vista and Montgomery, and then back into town.
Dinner was fabulous and the company very enjoyable, even as it went on well past my bedtime. Five courses, very French, with all my senses delighted! I thought of Megan's recent entry about being a lusty eater with great appreciation.
But one of the highlights was stopping to talk to someone, and then realizing that all my pals, the regulars from the Food Group, were gathered around my scooter oohing and aahing it. So, I dutifully turned on the lighted, digital dashboard (which really does look cool), and did the retracting side mirrors thing, and then collected my helmet and my purse from under the seat. Everyone was quite appreciative. Nice!
So I rode home feeling very lucky. Lookee, I have this crazy fun dorky scooter, I have friends to share incredible meals with, I live in this incredible place, Portland, I have a house and a yard, I have a man who I love and who loves me, I have a whippet. I am the Mistress of the Grand Dink!
This making an effort thing is interesting. I really like how I look with mascara, though with eyeliner I feel a little slutty. My coworkers have been teasing me about the fact that I feel like I'm wearing so much makeup, and no one else is noticing. I love wearing skirts and dresses, so the issue there is making sure that the legs are fresh mown. I totally agree with Tricia that what makes a woman most beautiful is her comfort in her own skin, her confidence.
And yet, there is a quote (okay, not a quote, but a statement) that reverberates in my mind. I heard someone talking about working with an Italian Holocaust survivor, and she said that he was always impeccibly dressed. She asked him why, and he replied that with so much ugliness in the world, he wanted to bring pleasure to people by dressing as well as he could. It's a small thing, no doubt an Italian thing, but it does come to mind with some regularity...
permalink April 19, 2005
April 15, 2005
scootering
Bless me, readers, for I have sinned. I didn't go to Pilates last night, and I didn't go to the gym or walk either. I am even more sore this morning than I was yesterday (!!), I'm assuming from the allegro. And I'm still feeling a bit wonky from whatever I'm fighting off. So I'm trying not to feel guilty for taking some down time.
Which isn't to say that I'm not running around like a crazy person. I have the numbers jotted down for my taxes, and now I need to just file them. And, I test-drove scooters last night.
Folks, promise me if you're looking at buying a twist-n-go scooter, that you consider the Kymcos. They have a great warranty, they look good, they're totally reliable, and they're great fun to ride. Oh, and the price is right too. Hollie, I'm talking to you in particular—I know you have the fever!
I test-drove the Kymco People 150. I couldn't believe what a tiny scooter it is—not tiny like pocket bike tiny, but very compact. But it was responsive, and peppy. Really cute. I loved riding it! And if I was really even considering 150s, this would be the one I'd choose.
Then I rode the Kymco People 250. In comparison to the 150, this is a hulk of a scooter, but it drove beautifully, cornering well and with lots of zip. A nice ride! Unfortunately, it's a smidge big for me—I could get the balls of my feet on the ground, but not stand flat footed. That's not a big deal, I thought.
Then, really as an afterthought and part of not wanting to leave the scooter shop, I rode the Kymco Grand Vista 250. I didn't want to ride it because I didn't like how it looked. But once I was on it, I couldn't ignore that I felt like a little kid all giddy with joy. I can stand flat-footed on it. It rides like a dream. I zipped through the neighborhood, testing the brakes, leaning into the traffic circles, all the while thinking, I really don't like the way this looks, but I really like the way it rides.
It has all these goofy features like a digital dashboard and retractable mirrors, and all these smart features like a heater that supposably actually heats, a seat design that gives some back support, and conveniently placed "oh jebus" hand-holds. Every one of the scooter guys spoke excitedly about how cool it is to drive at night with the digital dashboard glowing, casting an almost neon shimmer to the windscreen.
The fact that one of the mechanics bought a Kymco for his wife is reassuring, as well as the fact that they say that they almost never see them in the shop except for regular maintenance. My Riva was a workhorse, and I never had to take it in except for maintenance or when someone would hotwire the ignition, or otherwise injure it in trying to steal it, and that's what I want again.
I'd love to have the indie-cred to have a vintage scooter and do all the repairs myself—but who am I kidding? That isn't me. I like the fashion of it, the idea of it, but it's not going to be happening. I don't want a scooter that I'm constantly going to have to be hauling to the shop to have them adjust something or tweak something or fix something. I just wanna ride!
So I gave them a call this morning, and I'll be taking it home, g-ds willing, tonight. Oh, and it's blue (!!).
permalink April 15, 2005 | Comments (4)
April 14, 2005
making an effort
This is the week of making an effort.
Last week, I read a blog entry about fat women, and while there were parts that I agreed with, there were other parts that were just dead wrong. One was a theme that fat women just don't care about their appearance, and one commenter talked about fat women with cat hair on their butts. Well, that last thing is certainly true for me.
There is an element of truth there. I don't "do" my hair because it looks worse if I try that. Last night's haircut (which I do regularly, as well as color, as well as brow waxes), my hair dresser flat ironed my hair, which just, to my eye, looks weird. Everyone in the salon loved it, sweetie loved it, etc. And in trying to recreate that this morning, I have an odd mix of dead-straight, and hair that went feral and is wavy. Oh well.
Make-up is similar. Last week I experimented with eye shadow—big mistake. I can handle lipstick and mascara, but that's about it.
Getting cat hair off my clothes is next to impossible, so I try to get off the bigger pieces and call it good. When I stay in hotels, I'm able to lint-roller *all* the cat hair off, which is pretty damn cool.
But it's hard to get excited about clothes and uncomfortable shoes. I look in the mirror, and I'm still fat, and it doesn't matter how nice the clothes are. It doesn't matter that I'm shapelier and firmer than I was.
This week, however, I'm making an effort. Wearing mascara and lipstick. Wearing nice clothes. Matching jewelery. I have to admit, it makes me feel better about myself, and it makes me feel like I look better. Which is worth something.
Yesterday, I even brought in flowers from the garden: red tulips, bluebells and some blooming rosemary. It's so cheerful I could just puke!
...
Last night, I borrowed Sweetie's Stella to go to the hair dresser. Very interesting. I kick-started it, and it was running pretty choppy until I have revved it up for a few minutes. I got on, and rode to the library (1 mile), and that was fine, but getting it back on its stand was an effort. Then, on to the hair dressers.
It was weird. I didn't really care for it. Now, that's weird because as you know, I am obsessed. And, I've been having this very high school sort of internal discussion about whether to get a vintage or vintage style "Italian" scooter, or a "plastic" Asian scooter. See, the vintage styles are cooler, you know, in with the popular kids and all that.
I feel ridiculous that at 42, this matters to me. Cripes! How much cool factor can I have at 42, and who cares anyways?
Anyhow, I just didn't feel like the Stella was very stable, and one part of that could be having the engine mounted to one side, a foot and a half off the ground, and the other could be those 10" wheels. Getting it up to 30mph and coming down the Fremont hill was unpleasant.
So. I guess that shortens my test drive list quite a bit.
permalink April 14, 2005 | Comments (4)
April 12, 2005
Fever!
Here I am, back at work. My internal thermostat is still screwed up—now I'm hot rather than freezing cold, but I have a bit more energy. Hurrah!
I hoped to walk in today, but once everything was done and said, it was too late. The bus is also good for observation and thought, though, just not exercise, and it can also be good balance practice. But I can walk on lunch, and I can walk home tonight.
Or not. I want to get 5 miles in. And, I want to test drive scooters. It's driving me absolutely nuts!
To answer some questions...
Why no Vespa ET4?: Because. I've decided I'm not going to buy from the local Vespa dealership. I could go to the Bend dealership (3 hours away) or the Seattle dealership (3 hours away), and the guys at Ptown Scooters say that the Seattle dealership is a good one. But, I don't know that I'm so excited about the new Vespas that I'd drive three hours to get one. Apropos of nothing, here's a story about the costs of establishing a Vespa vs multiline dealers. It looks like it's pretty hard to establish that indie cred and be a Vespa dealer.
Why 150cc and higher?: Portland is hilly, and one of the reasons I'd like to have a scooter is for Sunday driving or scooter camping. I also would like to be able to haul my friends around with me. So having some power is important.
Also, my last scooter was a Yamaha Riva, a 180cc. I loved the power and speed it had, and I can't imagine getting a less powerful scooter. That said, I don't know if Columbia has the People 250 in, so that might tie my hands. Oh, and the People 150 is on sale for $2,999.
I am such a little kid. Immediate gratification!!! Immediate gratification!
Oh, and excitement: I'm going to do the Run for the Roses Half this Sunday. Can't wait!!!
permalink April 12, 2005
April 11, 2005
scooter comparison
| Scooter | 2 or 4 stroke | engine size | price | trans | mpg | ridden yet? | warranty | notes |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| restored Vespa P200E | 2 | 200cc | $2100 -2500 | manual | 60 | yes | ? | |
| Twist n Go Milano | 4 | 125cc | $2195 | automatic | 85 | no | 12/3 month | Is that enough cc's? |
| Stella | 2 | 150cc | $2999 | manual | 75+ | maybe | 1 yr | |
| Bajaj Chetak | 4 | 145cc | $2,849 | manual | 80+ | no | 2 yrs | they have a pink & white one |
| Bajaj Legend | 4 | 145cc | $2,550 | manual | 80+ | no | 2 yrs | what's the diff? |
| Kymco People 150 | 4 | 150cc | 3,399 | automatic | 65+ | no | 2 yrs | 16" tires |
| Kymco People 250 | 4 | 250cc | 4,299 | automatic | 60-70 | no | 2 yrs | 16" tires |
2 vs 4 stroke: 2 strokes (old vespas, stellas) are louder and pollute more.
engine size: Obviously, this affects speed -- larger engine, more speed. Also more power, especially on hills or carrying heavier loads (or an additional passenger).
tire size: the usual scooter tire is a 10". The usual motorcycle tire is a 16". The bigger the tire, the greater the stability.
permalink April 11, 2005 | Comments (3)
April 9, 2005
the art of movement
Big day today. I got to PFit just after 7am, and the sun was shining. I immediately saw Hollie and started catching up with her, and as her friends came round, I got introduced. Sweet! I then saw a friend of Mela's, and another of her friends recognized me (oh, I am so bad with names and faces), and then I introduced myself to others.
It was a huge crowd. Overwhelming. It'll be easier once we meet in our color groups—much smaller, much more manageable. As we started off for our 3 or 4 mile walk, I decided to hang back, and try to chat with folks I didn't know. Then I hung with some ACs, and racewalked while they ran. Chatted with some other folks, hung back, sped up, chatted with someone else. It was big fun.
All full of excitement and cheerfulness, I came home, collected the sweetheart, and we went out for breakfast at a place that before was really good—and this morning, nearly inedible. The bright spot was that it was a block away from a hot new bakery which had lots of samples, and we ended up getting three croissants, a slice of lemon tea cake (to die for!), and a pistachio danish. After that, we went scooter shopping.
First stop, the Vespa dealership. As usual, my double x chromosomes rendered me invisible. Then the salesman greets sweetie, and sweetie points out that I'm interested in test-driving. After some negotiating, and after he shows me all the controls as if I had never seen an engine kill switch, I take the granturismo 200cc out for a ride.
It's pretty and responsive. Everyone gives me a second look and a smile. I crank easily up a vertical hill, stop easily, go easily. It's effortless, really.
I bring 'er back in, and the salesman offers to let me try out another automatic transmission scooter. Well, how about a Stella, a manual—they have the atomic fireball Stellas, which I hear are a bit souped-up, could I try that? No.
Next, we roll down to Scooter Station. Stefan is there, and I ask if I can take one of the P200Es out. This is the polar opposite of the GT200—a manual, no electric start, an old, loud vespa. I get it out a few blocks away and stall it, and can't get it kick started again, so I walk it back to the shop. Stefan shows me how to kick-start it, totally without judgement or doing anything to make me feel like this isn't something easy to do, and I go for a longer ride which goes without incident.
This is not effortless. The hand shift requires a lot of left-hand strength, and shifting requires a lot of attention. But I'm cruising up and down hills, up and down streets, it's nice. Though a bit like exercise. It reminds me of when I first started driving a manual car. Soon enough, it becomes muscle memory and unconscious. Just as I was bringing it back in, it started to rain.
He also had an automatic scooter, the TnG Milano which I'd like to try out. But not when it's raining.
We went by Columbia Scooters after that. We chatted scooters with one of the guys, and had a lovely time. But still raining. It was killing me. They still have one Stella, some nice Bajajs, and then the Kymmco. For some reason I had thought they were open on Sundays, but they're not, so not riding any of their stock was killing me!
Even now, thinking about this stuff is killing me. If I had to buy on the basis of decent guys who treated me kindly and with respect, both Scooter Station and Columbia are stellar. I just have to hope that the scooter I want will reveal itself, making this decision easier!
permalink April 9, 2005 | Comments (8)
