Strange brew

To begin with, a lot of strange things have been going on in my world. First, the Red Baron took a crap. Yep, just up and started running badly. I cleaned the carburetor, replaced the plug, set the valves, drained the tank to check for junk, replaced the fuel filter, cleaned the carburetor, replaced all the fuel lines, drained the tank, checked the vacuum petcock, cleaned the carburetor (can you tell I did several of the things more than once???) and finally gave up. Took it to Encore Performance, the closest Genuine dealer, and said "fix it".

After two weeks and much going over what I already did, replacing a broken coil wire, re-jetting the carburetor, trying a new one, doing a bleed-down test to check for cylinder/piston integrity and who-knows-what-all, he finally decided it was MY fault for putting on the SuperTrapp muffler, which incidentally has performed just great for 10 months. I went back, and with the scooter still running poorly, just took it home.

Yesterday, I spent the best part of my day off working on it. I replaced the absurdly huge 100 main jet that had been put in the carb with a more reasonable 95 (the original was a 92). A little better. I then cleaned the carburetor AGAIN and removed the vacuum petcock and drained the tank AGAIN to make sure nothing was plugged. Replaced the fuel lines AGAIN with thicker walled tubing to prevent any collapsing. Rode it. It was better. Not good, mind you, but some better. I then turned around to go back home and it died. Wouldn't start again. Finally, I kick-started it and it sputtered to life, but if I gave it any gas, it would die. Then, while it was sputter/idling, I messed with the coil wires again. Miraculously, it would run good, then bad, then good again...but not good enough to ride. So I began pushing. A friend saw me and stopped. We loaded it in his pickup and he took me home.

I then hooked the battery up to the charger and while it was charging, stripped the wiring harness sheath from the coil up as far as I could go and snipped off what I believe to be the offending wire. I replaced it with new and a new connector. It fired right up and ran just like I wanted it to! By then, I had reached 5 o'clock and had to quit because I had a practice session with the new band I'm in; "The Bo Wilson Band" in which we all play the part of Bo Wilson. Confusing? Guess you'll have to come out to see us to understand...

Anyway, I took a short trip this morning in the rain and it, for the most part, ran well. There was some sputtering still, but I suspect that if I put the waterproof, rubber cover back over the coil wires it may cure that. Also, the dealer had altered the airbox in his quest and I will also put that back to original. We'll see.... It's still raining, so I'm going to wait a bit to do more.

Well, that was PART of my story. The other part involves the Helix. Now, I have NEVER been a big fan of riding the Helix because, well...it just wasn't FUN to ride. Smooth, yes. Fast, yes. Good handling? Like a Greyhound bus. Since the Red Baron was down, I was forced to ride the Helix and discovered (since I hadn't been paying it any attention) it was sporting a set of bald tires. In fact, you could almost see the air through the front one. So I went online tire shopping. I finally went to Tires Unlimited and hunted through their selection of scooter tires for 110/100-12 for the front and 120/90-10 for the back...just like Honda put on 'em. Couldn't find just what I wanted. They were either the wrong sizes or too expensive, so I did a little thinking and decided to experiment. I ordered a Cheng Shin 110/70-12 for the front and a Cheng Shin 4.00 X 10 for the rear. My thoughts were thus; the shorter, fatter sport-oriented new front size would put a little more bias on the front, perhaps making the handling a little more positive and the slightly narrower, taller rear would allow for quicker, less labor-intensive transitions while lifting the hindquarters a bit for less parts-dragging in the corners.

First to show up was the front and it made a HUGE difference. Easy turn in and out and much more confidence in the corners. A week later the rear arrived and I had it put on. I rode it and discovered the Helix was now as fun to ride in the corners as the Buddy!! And maybe even as fast!! At the moment I discovered that, my whole world changed. I was going to Phoenix to scooter shop!

That Saturday, the Scarabs were having a "End-Of-Season-Bowling-Ride", so I decided to go. Discovered I don't bowl any better than I did 20 years ago when I last tried the game. I had a great ride and we had a great time. The Helix easily cruised at 70+ all the way from Cottonwood to the VERY southeast end of the Phoenix metro area where I met Ruckuschick (also known as Pam) for lunch. She is selling a Kymco People 250S which I am interested in. So we looked at it and went up to her favorite Kymco dealer, AZDesertSports to talk financing. They looked at my credit and chased me out with a taser. Well, almost... Bottom line is, I didn't go home on a new scooter. Still looking for just the right deal though.

Along about midnight I said goodbye to Damn Dirty Dave, Sandy V., Hump, Jughead, Cristian, Shannon, Isaac, Marion, Elijah and Hot Tomato (if I left anyone out, I apologize) and headed north towards home. 'Bout froze my butt off by the time I made it, but it was worth it. And a note of record; the Helix was just as fun to ride as I was hoping it would be.

Now, there is a small, local independent motorcycle fix-it place here in Cottonwood named D&K Motorsports and I have some of my work done there and when I was in there with the Helix having the tires mounted I noticed a white Helix in the back of the shop with the rear wheel off. I asked about it and found that someone had replaced the tire at some point and left out some important spacer, allowing the hub to move around. And it did! And it stripped the splines in said hub. Dave, the shop owner, said he had a hub on order and that the guy would NEVER sell. I stopped in yesterday looking for a petcock (which he didn't have) and Dave told me he was unable to get a hub...they are just simply unavailable. So the guy may be interested in selling. Now then, I know where to find a used one.....

So. If you are interested in buying a used Genuine Buddy, let me know. I will make sure it is running well before I sell it, but I'm thinking a Helix just might be the ticket for me right now...

Let's see, new tires, a SuperTrapp exhaust (yes, they have one specifically for the Helix), a new set of variator roller-weights and clutch spring, cut down the windshield and add some lower handlebars and some custom paint...a long, low hot-rod along the lines of a mid-sixties Plymouth with a hemi. Okay, so 250 cc's doesn't quite measure up to a hemi, but you get the idea!

C-ya...ride on!
--Keys

This and that...

I took a ride over to Prescott a week or so ago. Just messin' around. Nice ride. Things changed on the way home, though....

As I was climbing the hill to the top of Mingus Mountain, a white van moved in behind me. About 2 feet off my tail! This guy was SERIOUSLY tailgating...and I was doing about ten over the speed limit!! Well, he passed me on a double yellow line just before a corner, just fool's luck he wasn't head-on'd!! Since he had probably 350 cubic inches under the hood and I had 125 cc's, he disappeared into the distance. I topped the summit and began the fast descent into Jerome, some 6 miles away. I caught up to the van about 2 miles down the road. He was behind a motorcyclist on a Buell who was doing, again, about 10 over the limit. Wasn't enough for the bozo in the van. He was tailgating the motorcyclist like I've never seen before! The Buell would go around the corners and the van was right on his ass, front tires squealing, he was leaned over so far. I surmised the motorcyclist, although he was riding a sport bike, probably didn't have all that much experience since I was easily keeping up with the two of them. He was more than likely scared to death by this moron on his tail light. This was absolutely one of the most dangerous scenerios I've ever seen on this road. If the Buell had hit some sand or a rock or something and went down, that van would have gone right over him.

At the pull off about a mile or so above Jerome the biker pulled over to let the van by and he did...me right behind him. I actually think the driver was suffering a bruised ego or something since he couldn't shake the motorscooter behind him. And NO...I was NOT tailgating him. I was just behind him and going the same speed as he.

He rolled up on a car going about the speed limit about a hundred yards down the road, and you guessed it, passed it on the double yellow IN A CORNER!!! Again, he lived to tell the story. We then entered the town of Jerome and he passed another car in the town limits. There are NO passing zones in the town of Jerome because you can't see around the corners and hairpins in the town. He did it anyway...oncoming traffic be damned.

I was able to keep him in view all the way down the mountain into Cottonwood where I followed the van (yes, I had the plate number) to a local mortuary. I parked and went in where I spoke to the directors about the incident and how their driver was obviously trying to drum up more business for them. About that time, the driver, an older guy, walked up and was confronted by his bosses. He admitted to passing on the double yellow, saying "everybody does it"!! Not true. Admitted to speeding to the point of danger. Claimed he wasn't tailgating the motorcycle. I pulled out my sheriff's department ID and told him he probably wasn't the brightest bulb in the place. His boss told him he wouldn't be driving the company vehicle again and the man apologized to me for his behavior. I left.

TODAY, I drove my pickup over to Prescott (another part of this story) and on my way back, who did I see? Still driving like a bat outa hell? The same guy. Same van. What can you do??

I know he's gonna kill someone.

Anyway, last week, the Red Baron, on the way home from one of my forays into Sedona began coughing and sputtering pretty badly. I pulled over and cleaned the carb out...an easy, quick job. No difference. Now THIS was different. I rode it home, unhappily, and began working on it. First, I checked the spark plug. It was white, meaning it was running lean, suggesting a fuel starvation issue since in the past it's always been a pretty tan...which is optimum. I pulled the carb clear out and cleaned every part of it thoroughly. I replaced the fuel filter with a new one. I made sure the fuel lines were clear. I drained the gas tank, checking to make sure it wasn't full of crud and replaced the gas with fresh. I adjusted the valves (just because I could). No difference. Well, I'd done all I could, so I took it to Encore Performance, a Genuine dealer ( http://www.epfguzzi.com/ ). Jim called me a couple days ago, saying he'd replaced a wire to the coil and he thought it was fixed. So I drove over the mountain this morning to get it and, now it didn't cough and sputter as bad, but the power was down, and when I hit about 55 mph, it began coughing a little. I took it back and Jim pulled the carb and cleaned the jets. Tried it again. No better. Checked the plug. White.

So we found a 95 main jet to replace the 92 that was in it and tried it again. If anything, it was worse. I personally think it was just getting worse as it got warmer. We pulled the plug again and discovered the bigger jet made no difference to the color of the plug. We still had a fuel starvation issue. I left it there. They are going to do a bleed-down test to determine ring/cylinder integrity and adjust the valves again.

Who knows, maybe I just wore the poor thing out...

Also, I have included a picture here of my scooter in it's "Sport Touring" incarnation. For those of you who are new here, the scooter is an '06 Genuine Buddy 125, the rear bag is an S/X item from Scooterwest ( http://www.scooterwest.com/ ), the saddlebags are Dowco Rally Pack bags ( http://www.chaparralmotorsports.com/ ) and the windshield is from Genuine, specifically designed for the '06 Buddy.

C-ya...ride on!

--Keys

Skutergruven T-Shirts

I know everybody's been waiting for the spectacular unveiling of the new Skutergruven T-shirts. What's that?? You say you didn't even know about them??? Whatever.

To make a long story short, they are finally here. I will (eventually) have a web-site with a shopping cart and everything, but well...the guy who's creating it for me got a little behind. So, if you would like one, we're just gonna have to do the unthinkable and trust each other. You send me a check, cash or money order for $20.00 and I'll send you a shirt of your choice in the color (ink color, too) of your choice and in the size of your choice.

I have included here a couple pictures of some of them. These are all custom made to order (hence the big price), so give me a week or so. Just call (928) 274-1837 or (928) 649-0206 to order. If I don't answer, leave a message where I can reach you and we can work out the details. Sorry it's not a fancier way of doing business, but until my web-site is up, this is what I have to do...

C-ya...ride on!

--Keys

Something for Nothing

I've done a bit of riding lately. Mostly short, fast trips through the various canyons or over the various mountains around here. Nothing spectacular...just some beautiful rides of the sort I've described before...EXCEPT...

Last month was the Something For Nothing rally. The rally began (officially) in Flagstaff where we all grouped up and left, heading south through Oak Creek Canyon, into Sedona, south again on Hwy 179 to the Village of Oak Creek. A few miles south, we'd hook a right onto Beaverhead Flats Road for the entire 6 miles of its existance. Another right on Cornville Road would take us into Cornville where once again we'd take a right, this time onto Page Springs Road until it dumps out onto 89A...back to Cottonwood, through town and up to Jerome. Again, through town to the top of Mingus Mountain where an all night party was planned at the campground. Then back to Flagstaff on Sunday.

That was the plan.

Since my cronies from the Scarabs are based in Tucson and Phoenix, we traditionally meet Friday night at the campground, leave about 8 Saturday morning from there and meet up with the Flagstaff contingent at about ten or so and then make the ride back.

Well, that Friday, my new rollerweights and belt came in the mail. Finally. So, with much enthusiasm, I grabbed my new parts and went to where I used to work to coerce the mechanic into loaning me his air wrench. No problem, Roy was more than willing to help. So I took it apart, replaced the 11.5 gram rollerweights with my new 10.5 gram items and swapped out the old belt (which after 13,000 miles still looked brand new) with the new kevlar belt. Put it all back together and took it for a ride. No power. Well, some...I guess, but I was down probably 20%. I took it apart and put it back together two more times. Nothing changed. I made sure I was doing everything right. I even tried my (also new) 15 gram rollerweights. By that time, it was late and I needed to go to bed. Got up the next morning and it was cloudy. WAY cloudy.
I geared up with a leather jacket, full-face helmet and gloves and headed up the hill (slowly) to meet the club. I got to the meeting place before the rest had come down and decided to wait. It started to sprinkle. I moved the scooter under the canopy over a picnic table. It began to rain. Before long, I heard the sounds of the scooter coming down the dirt road from the campground. Still raining, although it had lessened a little. I fired the Red Baron up and we all headed down the mountain.

We all made it down through the rain-soaked corners okay...until Jerome. I was near the front, and just happened to glance in my rearview to see Hump slow his Bajaj down and go back up the hill. Jerome has several hairpin and just tight corners on the main road through town, and the rain had slickened up the old asphalt and yes, you guessed it, someone went down. It was Sandy V., Damn Dirty Dave's sweetie on her sweet little Vespa. It had just slipped out from under her and she'd torn up the palm of one hand pretty bad. Fortunately, the driveway in which we all parked was owned by the town Fire Chief, who came out and tended to Sandy's injuries. I loaned her a bigger glove to fit over her bandages (by the way, Sandy...where is that??) and we were once again on our way. On through Cottonwood and just about a mile out of Cottonwood on the road to Sedona, Mike's sweet Lambretta came to a coughing halt. Some wire had come loose and so he and I spent a few minutes wrenching while the rest kept going.

Mike and I rode together to Sedona and I couldn't believe how doggy the Red Baron was running. It was embarrassing! We caught the rest of the pack in Sedona and we rode the rest of the way to Flagstaff pretty uneventfully. Except my scooter was running like it was a 100cc. I was SERIOUSLY disappointed. I was being outrun by stock Stellas going uphill! This was BAD!

Breakfast and hot coffee in Flagstaff and a lot of catching up with the Flagstaff scooterists whom we only get to see once or twice a year. It began raining again in earnest and we sat it out. When it finally let up a bit, we loaded Sandy's Vespa on the trailer (poor girl was hurting) and headed downhill. Rain off and on all the way to Sedona. We fueled up in the Village of Oak Creek and took off again. At the end of Beaverhead Flats Road, Damn Dirty Dave lost the exhaust off of his Vespa Sprint and it was loaded up. Somewhere along the way, Ian had also lost the exhaust off his Allstate and it too was on the truck. As soon as we turned onto Page Springs Road, the heavens opened up in a spectacular monsoon-style gully-washer! I was following Mike on his Lambretta and cussing my Buddy for it's lack of power as Mike just ran away from me. For a while. Just before Page Springs Restaurant (home of the finest Prime Rib in Arizona) there is a bridge where the water was several inches deep. The Lambretta sucked in a big mouthful of that water and just up and quit. It was done for the day. On the trailer. At least my scooter, though powerless, kept going.

I'd been battling a cold for about a week and the soaking I was getting didn't help, so I headed home when we got to Cottonwood for a hot shower and dry clothes. I also took the transmission on the Buddy apart again. There just HAD to be something I'd done wrong. I was VERY diligent in putting it back together and, damn it, it still wasn't right. I pulled the transmission cover off again and just sat there looking at it for a while. I'd been assuming my problem was in the rollerweights all along. Maybe my train of thought needed to find a different track, so I removed the new, $75 belt and put the old one back on, along with the 10.5 gram weights again. Buttoned it up, took it for a spin and VOILA!! A mighty return of power!! The belt was wrong. It was a MRP product that they were claiming works for the Buddy, although it's not exactly the right one. WRONG!!! More power or not, the scooter stayed in the garage and I drove the pickup to the campground to tell lies around the fire and watch the others get drunk. Sandy said she wasn't in much pain, but her eyes told a different story. Finally, we said our goodbyes and I drove home. Not the best rally I've attended, but I did learn a few things. One; use the factory belts. Two; be very careful on old, nasty pavement that's wet. Three; even when they're not running right, Buddys will just keep chugging along and finish the ride.

Comforting.

C-ya...ride on,
--Keys

Scooter Time Machine

Tonight I had one of the most poignant and meaningful experiences I've had in a long time and I have my scooter to thank for it...kind of indirectly, but it was responsible nevertheless.



It was pretty much a quiet day. My wife had to work at 1:30 and as usual, she slept until 11:30, leaving me to kick around all morning by myself. I went to Hobo Joe's for some scrambled eggs and coffee then rode to a local independent motorcycle shop who mounted my new rear tire for me (the third in a year...13,000 miles will do that). For ten bucks. Nice guys. Then I moseyed home and bounced around the internet for a while. Got bored. Did the dishes. Folded the clothes I'd run through the washing machine last night. Played the piano a little. Went to my sister's house to get my garage workbench and air tank that's been at her place for a couple of years. Went home. About that time Ski awakened and got ready for work. Said our goodbyes and I just looked around. Now what?



So, I trimmed some bushes, cleaned out the garage enough I could fit the bench in and still walk. Swept the driveway where the bush trimmings had fallen. Loaded them in the pickup and took them to where I used to work where there's a big ravine that everyone uses for bush trimming disposal and disposed of them. Moseyed back home. Looked at my scooter. Cleaned the bugs off the windshield. Then, with nowhere to go and nothing in particular to see, I put my helmet and "Wild Man" jacket on and headed out.



I headed northeast on 89A towards Sedona for a mile or two, then hooked a right onto Cornville Road which leads you to (you guessed it...) Cornville, Az. There are a few nice corners and curves on the way and the Buddy was running perfectly. New air filter, thoroughly cleaned carburetor, new fuel filter, new rollerweights in the transmission, new windshield and a new rear tire. I was STYLIN'! I crossed the Verde River in Cornville then went the additional mile or so to KC's Corner where I took a left onto Page Springs Road...an 8 mile, beautifully curvy piece of tarmac just calling my name. I took the corners just as fast as I could...easily doubling the suggested speed limits. Page Springs Road dumps out onto 89A again where I turned left again and neaded back into Cottonwood and home. Fabulous, albeit short (20 miles) ride.



Went home. Repaired the front door. Tidied up the garage a little more. Played some more piano. Was kinda lonely. TV didn't interest me (rarely does). By this time it was getting dark...about 8:00. Okay, time for another ride.



A couple of weeks ago, the city of Cottonwood sponsored a competition/festival/motorcycle rally called "Rythym and Ribs" in which the inhabitants of our small city tasted and declared which restaurant served up the best ribs. And at the same time got to listen to the Marshall Tucker band in concert. All for ten bucks! Anyway, a small place in Cornville named the Grasshopper Grill won the title of "Best Ribs". I voted for 'em. And this was a place I'd never been. Maybe I needed to check 'em out.



Bottom line; I headed for the Grasshopper Grill for dinner. Again I rode the fine curves into Cornville and hooked a left into the parking lot at the junction of Cornville Road and Page Springs Road, parked the scooter and hung up my helmet and went inside and was immediately taken 35 years back in time.



The Grasshopper Grill is a very small place, room for about 12 tables with a few outside in the backyard and a small bar. The decor was straight out of a hunting lodge somewhere in the mountains of Colorado...peeled log railings and walls, laquered wood tables and chairs and bar. Having grown up in the mountains of Colorado, I felt right at home. This was, of course, a Friday night and the place was packed. The great thing was, it was packed with families. Just being families. Over here were three families, including all their children and an extra man friend of the family. Over there were two more...and, well, you get the idea. The men were truck drivers, construction workers, mechanics...the guys who make our lives function everyday. They were out at this little place, eating dinner, having a couple brews and just being families. The men didn't ignore their wives. Nobody ignored the kids. The kids were playing the video games...one that had two plastic rifles where the players "hunted" game and accumulated points. One had card games.



I ordered the fabulous carnitas tacos and just reveled in the ambiance. A couple guys were discussing how to repair a piece of equipment. A couple more were talking about where they'd drawn their big game tags this year. Their arms were around their wives. When a kid came up, they got their hair tousled or got a hug. THESE were families. THEN it was karaoke time. Mostly classic country songs. Some the wives sang. Some the guys sang. A LOT was sung by the myriad of kids...sometimes all at once. I couldn't keep the smile off my face.



Here were people just enjoying a Friday night together. Eating, talking, laughing, singing and loving. This place could have been in Red Lodge, Montana where I lived 35 years ago, just out of high school. Natalie's Cafe was in downtown Red Lodge, where I saw the same things so long ago, and as I thought about those days in Montana and tonight in Cornville, Arizona, I realized that THIS is what the human spirit longs for. And that I'd lost track of somewhere along the way. It's not the big, important position at the company. It's not the newest car or biggest house. It's having a family to belong to. With a tear in my eye, I texted Shelly (my sister) to tell her what I was experiencing and told her she and my niece McKenzie (I call her Mac) should be there with me and we shared, through texting, how important we are to each other and promised breakfast together in the morning.



I left the Grasshopper Grill reluctantly and followed Page Springs Road again to 89A and headed back towards Cottonwood, retracing my earlier steps. About halfway to Cottonwood, I realized I wasn't ready to go home yet and pointed the scooter in the direction of the mountain community of Jerome. I chased the curves up the mountain and through the town to a parking area about 2 miles above the town. I pulled in and parked the Red Baron, pulled my helmet off and leaned against the stone wall, just listening to the night and reflecting on what I'd seen.



A more beautiful autumn evening couldn't have been found. There was a full moon, shaded by some high clouds and faint, cool breezes cascading down from the 7000 foot summit of Mingus Mountain. Every now and then a car or truck would go by on their way to Prescott, maybe...or Cottonwood or Sedona. I could see through the "V" formed by the mountains on either side and be rewarded with the twinkling lights of Clarkdale and Cottonwood and off in the distance, Sedona. With the breeze almost lovingly caressing my face, I considered all the "family" I'd seen tonight. Something most of us don't have time for. Something we allow daily pursuits to get in the way of. Something we let our personal aspiration prevent us from appreciating. These families probably didn't own their own homes or a new vehicle, and if they DID own their own home, it was probably a house trailer. They didn't earn salaries in the 6-digit range. They just earned a living and spent the rest of their lives living. Where is my family, I wondered? Why do I so often feel alone? Where did I slip sideways? As the clouds altered the shadows around me and the breeze brought the fragrance of the cedars to me, I understood finally, that family is what the human spirit longs for. And that most of us push it away, because it is sometimes inconvenient. I realized, that in many ways, Shelly and her kids are the only family I'm close to...and believe it or not, we're not even REALLY family. Shelly and I "adopted" each other as brother and sister about 10 years ago...before I even knew my wife. We understood that that is our relationship and we both need it. And I am blessed to have what family I have.



I smiled at the moon and thanked God for the insight he gave me tonight and for the level of joy I'd seen. My friends, it IS possible. And it IS good.



I, reluctantly again, pulled my helmet on, straddled the Red Baron, fired it up and headed back down the mountain with a little better understanding of what's important.



...and it was a little red motorscooter, always pulling me down the road to new places, that led me to where I needed to be tonight and I am grateful.



--Keys

Promised pictures from last week's trip.

I promised you pictures to cover the trips I took last weekend and here are some from the FIRST trip I took last Thursday from Cottonwood to Flagstaff, up Oak Creek Canyon.

Well, kids, there's the famous Sedona, Arizona. Proclaimed by someone (I forget who) to be the most beautiful place on earth. That person has OBVIOUSLY not been to Colorado. But I digress. The next picture down is just north of town looking to a sort of southerly direction at the spires just outside of Sedona. The next shows the bridge you have to cross to span Oak Creek...WAAAaaaaay down in the bottom. The last picture is from a vantage point under the bridge and looking down Oak Creek canyon towards Sedona, which can be seen climbing the hillside at the end of the canyon.

Pics from last week's trip...

The top picture shows the pretty, narrow, tree-lined road from just north of Sedona to nearly "The Switchbacks". Then of course, in the middle of this little paradise is a Dairy Queen! That is the Red Baron handsomely posing in front. The third is a picture of the people all playing down on the river at Slide Rock state park.

New pics from last week's trip

These pics are from the end of the trip, at the top of the rim. The top pic is at the edge of the rim lookin south towards where Sedona would be. Below it is...well, the Rim! The Mogollon Rim...some kind of volcanic structure. The third pic shows "The Switchbacks" and why they're called that. The one below it is just me standing on the edge looking down. Then the bottom one is looking northwest above the ranger station at Slide Rock state park.

What A Weekend!!!

First of all, I must apologize. You see, my wife and my sister went to Las Vegas this last week for time away from everything and, well...my wife took the camera. Therefore, although the scenery I witnessed yesterday and today both rivaled the best ever, I have no photos. Bum'r. HOWEVER, I intend to do these rides again in the near future, with camera in hand.

I got off work at 1:00 a.m. Thursday morning, came home, slept until about 7:30 and dragged myself out of bed, just KNOWING I would ride SOMEwhere. I met my friend Pat down at Hobo Joe's for some biscuits and gravy and a large helping of B.S. And I'm here to tell you, when Pat and I get together, there is some B.S. flyin'! I left the cafe and stopped for gas and throttled the Buddy in a northeasterly direction out of Cottonwood, heading for Sedona. The scooter was running nicely and the ride was pleasant. I cruised through West Sedona (the industrial and lower rent part of town) and on into "uptown" Sedona...the tourist area. There is a shop there named "I Love Who" that I have commissioned to make my "skutergruven" t-shirts. I would like to take this opportunity to enlighten you as to the reason for the name; "I Love Who". Unfortunately, I can't. I don't have a clue.

Anyway, I decided to park the Buddy at the underground parking lot there in "uptown" and moseyed across Hwy 89A to the t-shirt shop. The guy behind the counter showed me the prototype of my shirt with the logo and my motto; "Proudly Ignoring Popular Opinion" and I was quite pleased. I asked if the prototype was for sale and they just gave it to me. In return I bought some new patches for my jacket. Fair is fair. So I changed shirts and proudly walked out with the very first "skutergruven" t-shirt. They should be available within a week or two, if you're interested. E-mail me at skutergruven@netscape.com if you want one. Prices should be pretty darned reasonable since I'm not trying for a big ol' profit. I'm just trying the finance the next batch of 'em.

Back on the scooter, I continued north on Hwy 89A towards Flagstaff...some 30 miles away and a 4000 foot climb in elevation...most of it in a 5 mile section called "the switchbacks". The Buddy purred nicely out of town as I saw some of the most spectacularly wind-sculptured spires and cliffs on the face of the planet. The red rocks and dirt were embroidered by the green of the scrub cedars climbing the hills and working their way down onto the banks of Oak Creek. I crossed the curved span of the bridge that carries one from one side of Oak Creek canyon to the other...a distance of several hundred yards and affording a view up and down the canyon that will just take one's breath away. There is a small parking area there where a person can stop to take pictures, or if you'd like, traverse the trail leading to the shaded bottom of the canyon. I believe someone once told me the trail goes for several miles. It is a pretty good climb to the nether reaches of Oak Creek Canyon, but it is a trek of almost unparalleled beauty.

With my little wheels spinning happily, I fairly flew over the sun-dappled pavement as the oak and cottonwood trees reached above to join leaves above me, granting me shaded relief from the Arizona sun. About 2 or 3 miles into the canyon, the Buddy began to cough and sputter a little. I have since come to recognize these symptoms as the scooter telling me the carburetor is getting a little dirty. I stopped in a little, shady pullout and pulled the seat bucket off the scooter, allowing me access to the engine. I grabbed a screwdriver and a can of carb cleaner from inside the seat bucket, removed the two screws holding the top of the carb on, removed the top, sprayed the carb clean, replaced everything, started it up and continued on my way. Five minutes, tops. Never had anymore problems.

Next I passed Slick Rock State Park. This is an area where Oak Creek courses over a series of...who would have guessed...flat rocks! I'd guess the creek is a good 20 yards across at this point and although it is fairly broad, it is pretty shallow. This makes for some good family fun! The place is PACKED every weekend in the summer with people trying to escape the heat and slide down the slick rocks in the cool mountain creek. Mostly these people just get in my way as I try to race the canyon.

I pulled into the Dairy Queen somebody put up in the middle of this scenic ride for a bottle of water. Why a Dairy Queen and why there, escapes me. So I popped my water and visited with my friend Donna who occupies a little shack there by all the Native American jewelry vendors, trying to interest the tourists in a friendly bit of time-sharing. At least, I THINK that's what she does there. Now, Donna has a healthy interest in motorscooters and was planning to pick up a used one with her income tax check when it came in, but wouldn't you know it, one of her 4 kids needed braces, so no scooter for Donna. She is a single mother trying to raise 4 kids alone and I think it would be great if someone could come up with some kind of a fund raising effort so we could help her out with getting a used scooter. Any ideas?? I could use some help, here...

Back on the road, I headed once again for Flagstaff. I passed the hairpin curve where last September Irish Tim wrecked his Stella on the Something For Nothing Rally (coming up again next Saturday). He's okay. The Stella's okay. All is good with the world. That is the start of "the switchbacks". The Red Baron climbed strongly and steadily to the top...in fact, my forward progress was hindered by a couple of cars. They pulled off at the scenic overlook to take pictures and babble excitedly over the Native American jewelry being hawked there. I didn't.

The road opens up there and it's a shallow climb for the eight or so miles into Flagstaff. For some reason, this stretch seems harder to climb than the switchbacks. I was averaging about 55 mph or so, but it sure seemed slower. I'd hit 65 now and then, but I'd also drop to 45 on occasion. I battled traffic through town to the "Flying Dorffini" motorcycle shop. They worked on my Buddy once last year, and they are a couple of great guys. Come to find out, Wade is moving to Nicaragua and Curtis is taking over the shop. We visited for a while and he said he'd be glad to carry my t-shirts in his shop and we said we'd meet up again next Saturday for the rally. I fueled up and headed home.

The ride home was uneventful except for some of the tourists being scared to death to actually negotiate a curve. Get them off of the superslab and they are completely lost! The temperatures were mild, the road was perfect, the scooter ran well, I got to visit with some friends and I'm wearing a "skutergruven" t-shirt. Does it get any better than this????

So, I get home and my buddy, Suds, gives me a call. Friday (today, by my watch) is the birthday of his wife Marina and Suds threw a last minute ride together with some of his Harley riding pals to go to Strawberry (a town in Arizona...NOT a shortcake) for breakfast to celebrate. Although I don't ride a Harley, Suds doesn't mind and invited me anyway. With Ski still in Vegas, I was down for another ride!

I showed up at his place at 8:30 this morning on the Helix. I decided to ride the Helix so I could at least pretend to keep up. Turns out, I kept up just fine! Just one other couple showed up to ride with us, so the group was small. A cup of coffee and some gas and we were GONE!! Eastward on Hwy 260 we went, through Cottonwood, past the jail where I work, over I-17 and through Camp Verde we went. I stayed at the rear, enjoying the song of the open-piped V-twins ahead of me. We climbed the infamous "goat-trail" to the top of the rim (the Mogollon Rim...a major landmark in Arizona) where the road flattened out. Climbing the goat-trail, I occasionally slowed to as low as 55 mph, but for the most part, we cruised at over 60 most of the way. After the road flattened out on top, we touched 80 a time or two. Traversing the rim is a spectacular ride! Open mountain meadows on either side of the road break up against big Ponderosa Pines and scrub oak on the far side, then to the south the land just disappears only to appear again about 30 miles away in the form of evergreen-covered hills and mountains that slowly fade on the horizon. If you didn't know, you'd never guess from the view that those mountains, just beyond the horizon slope down into the Salt River Valley where lies the great sticker patch known as Phoenix...in the Valley of the Sunstroke.

The temperature had dropped a good 10 - 15 degrees up there on the top of the rim and the crisp air felt SO good. Melissa and Marina, however, were considering jackets about that time. Eric, Suds and I thought it could get no better. Eventually, the meadows gave way to closely packed pines known as black timber. The cool air and the smell of the evergreens took me back to my home state of Colorado where I grew up at over 8000 foot elevation. I was home.

Hwy 260 ended, just as it always does, at the north-south Hwy 87. We headed south the 8 or 10 miles to Stawberry where we parked at the cafe for breakfast. Just as I finished up my spanish omelet, the waitress brought a banana chimichanga topped with chocolate sauce and vanilla ice cream and a candle. We all sang a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" to Marina...and very badly, I might add...and dug in! Good stuff!!!

Suds was thinking he needed a beer, so we continued south another 3 or 4 miles to the town of Pine, where we stopped at a nice little bar so he could wet his whistle. Back on the bikes and on the road to home. We stopped at a pulloff on top of the rim once to relax a little...there was a tremendous headwind and it took a little muscle to deal with. We joked around a little, told a few lies, teased each other and just enjoyed each other's company. A nice little break. We let Eric lead the way down the goat-trail into Camp Verde since neither Suds nor I see any reason to let a set of corners slow us down, but Eric does. We casually cruised into town, through town, out of town and on into Cottonwood where I headed home and the others headed to a local bar for more whistle-wetting.

A little side-bar here. My girl, Hot Tomato, has had a dream of becoming an Animal Control officer down there in the Valley of the Sunstroke and she was recently called in for a second interview (good news). She had put me down as a reference and gave me the heads-up that they might call today, which is why I headed home at this time. Sure enough, there was a message on my phone from the officer down there so I returned his call and gave Hot Tomato a glowing review. All truth, though. Truth is, there is NO one I'd trust more were I to be caught in a foxhole in combat. I could rest assured that my back was covered as long as she could still draw a breath. Means a LOT to me. I told the Sergeant that. Two hours later H.T. called me. She got the job!! Good on you, girl. You make me proud.

I made my call to the Sergeant and rejoined Suds, Marina, Eric and Melissa at the watering-hole (on the Red Baron this time) for an afternoon of tomfoolery. Water fights, stories, plans for the next ride and just good comradery.

I'm sitting here at my keyboard tonight writing this and just realized...I still have another day and a half of my weekend left!! What will happen tomorrow?!?!?

So far it's one of the best weekends ever. Only thing missing is you. ...and the camera, of course...

C-ya...ride on!
--Keys

Time to get after it again...

I DID IT!!! I finally graduated from the Academy! And (to toot my own horn) with top honors as well! So, you might ask, WHAT does this have to do with my blog about SCOOTERS!!??!?!

Simple.

Now that I am out of the academy, I will be doing shift work. What this means is that I will be working Sunday and Monday nights from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m., Tuesday nights from 9 p.m. to 7 a.m. and Wednesday only 6 hours. THEN is the cool part...I get 3 1/2 days OFF!! In a row!!! Holy Scooting, Batman!

I will be able to tinker on my scooters (I've actually done a little of that recently) and a whole lot of riding! When I ride and tinker, I blog. That's just the way it works. So for those of you who read and enjoy my stories, I will now be able to add stuff on (hopefully) a regular basis.

Lookin' forward to it, my friends.

C-ya...ride on!
--Keys

A Few Updates...

I have to acknowledge my failing to update my blog recently. I started the Yavapai County Sheriff's Department Detention Officer's Academy on July 2nd and they are steadily attempting to facilitate my imminent demise. On a daily basis. And I thought Marine Corp boot camp was tough!! Of course, I was 19 years old then, not 52 like I am today...may have something to do with it.

Anyway, I have done a bit of riding. Went over Mingus Mountain to Prescott last Friday evening. I just LOVE night rides!! So I got about halfway up the mountain, just putting along at a happy, brisk pace, when I got passed by some squid on a Yamaha R6. Now, I grew up in the day of Mike "The Bike" Hailwood and his contemporaries and later the likes of King Kenny Roberts, so I know what a good rider looks right. I did a little roadracing back in 1975-1976 in southern California on an RD250 and crashed all over, so don't think I was one of their contemporaries. So, this kid blows by me and we both got stuck behind somebody in a car who was (of all things!) doing the speed limit! If the suggested speed limit for a corner was 20 mph, the car WENT 20 mph. Boring! Well, this kid in front of me on the R6 is making a grand show of slinging his butt from one side to the other in ANY corner at ANY speed. A 15 mph hairpin found his ass-cheek sliding off the side of the seat. Tickled me, it did! I then began to watch the rest of his body. It stayed right where it was to begin with. He didn't hang the inside knee out, he didn't move his upper body to the inside...just his butt! Now the purpose of sliding to the inside is to alter the centerline of your machine to the outside, allowing it to remain more upright while making the curve, since you have moved a lot of the dead weight (you) to the inside. Just one ass cheek just don't cut it.

The other thing I noticed was he would stay on one side of the lane through the entire corner. While dancing around on top of the bike. He had NO ability to determine a proper line to get him through a corner in the most expeditious manner, thereby making his dance routine totally superfluous!

One of the great things about Mike The Bike was his ability to find and hold a line through a corner. He never slid around on his motorcycle, he stayed centered on it as he flew though a race, utilizing instead a superior ability to find the proper line through any curve. King Kenny, then is the man who popularized the "hang off the inside" style of riding...WHILE utilizing the best line through the curve.

As I followed the squid on the R6, it occured to me that ultimately, it is more important to know how to find, hold and follow a line through a corner than it is to alter the center of gravity. If you learn how to find that line, and hold that line, you will probably outcorner 99% of the sport riders out there. THEN, and only then, learn the proper way to shift the center of gravity on your bike by playing monkey, because sliding around looks pretty silly when you don't even attempt to find a proper line through and you are just dancing on top of the bike.

Enough of that, now. My beloved Ski has been practically terrified to ride in any wind at all on her Helix since we bought it. Didn't make much sense to me since I enjoy a good breeze, myself...unless it's a headwind, of course. Now the Helix comes with a windshield created around the original design of a barn door. I suspected for some time that the wind would catch that big ol' thing and it would then function as a sail and throw the scooter around. I was right! I happened to ride both her Helix and my Buddy (with no windshield at all) on the same stretch of road on the same breezy afternoon. I scooted right through on the Buddy, just happy as can be to be riding. On the Helix, a couple gusts had me clamping on the binders wondering just what hit me!! This was a job for..."Handyman"!!

I went to WalMart, where I got a couple of 24 tooth per inch jigsaw blades...they are usually designed for metal cutting...a roll of 2 inch wide masking tape and a sharpie. I measured up from where the windshield connected to the body, and finding a point about 3 1/2 inches lower than the highest point on the windshield, applied masking tape on both sides of the plexiglass about 6 inches wide. I then took the sharpie and drew an outline of how I wanted the windshield to look on the tape. Firing up the old Black & Decker jigsaw, I then slowly (DON'T push it!!) chased my line around the windshield. Voila!! Instant shorter windshield!! I removed the tape, and using one of those sanding sponges, put a finished edge on the new upper edge.

The next day, Ski's Firebird ended up in the shop and she has had to ride the Helix the 20-some miles to work in Sedona every day. She is amazed that that little 3 1/2 inch cut made SO much difference! She rides through cross-winds now and never feels a thing! A happy little rider is she! You might think of a similar cut on yours if you are experiencing uncomfortable wind buffeting.

C-ya...ride on!
--Keys

Birthday stuff!

Yesterday, June 29th, was my birthday. For the first time in my life I'm playing with a full deck...52! Anyway, my loving and incredibly indulgent wife, Ski got me some good scooter stuff. I got a Cortech DSX Denim Jacket by Tourmaster. Vents all over it, armor in it, zip-in quilted liner for winter...stylin'! Then she up and got me a set of the Dowco Rally Pack saddlebags. These things rock!! Once I got them set up, it takes maybe 12 - 13 seconds to mount or remove! Velcro secures the top straps with quick release buckles on the lower straps. I included pictures here with the top straps just thrown across the seat, but after I took the pics, I popped the seat up and laid the straps across the underseat bucket opening and reclosed the seat. It took a wee bit more effort to secure the latch, but when mounted like that, they are SECURE!! Another bonus to latching the seat over the straps is they are then locked to the bike...can't take 'em without either using the key or taking the whole scooter. Which I'd rather not think about.

They appear to be durable and are large enough, that when coupled with my recently aquired S/X rear bag, I could probably haul a cord of wood. The zippers are enhanced by velcro closures at the ends of the openings for a little extra security. The teardrop shape matches the lines of the Red Baron nicely and when secured under the seat, actually look better! They come with aluminized panels that can be mounted to the "bike-side" panel of the bag to protect against exhaust-pipe meltdown. The price? $52.99!! Less than some folks charge for shipping!! Ski ordered them from Chaparral Motorsports ( http://www.chaparralmotorsports.com/ ) and they only charged $6.99 for shipping. They got the package out and to us in short order and didn't mess up anything in the order. As an extra bonus, they sent me two big ol' catalogs with all the stuff they sell.

Checking through the catalogs, I found winter face and neck protection, a smoke shield and air draft protector for my Scorpion helmet, some Maxxis racing tires for my scooter (scooter tires in a motorcycle catalog!!!) and even some pin-up girl stickers, should I have a need for such things. Chaparral Motorsports seems to have a lot of the stuff we all look for and need and can never seem to find when we DO need them. Give 'em a look-see. Based on the quality of the the items I got, the shipping professionalism and the availability of items that are sometimes hard to find, I'd be happy to recommend them.

C-ya...ride on!

--Keys

Reason for trip? New job...kinda...

I don't even know where to start this post. Okay, I'll go back to the beginning. When I was a child, I loved animals more than ANYthing. Even scooters (I didn't know any better back then). I wanted to become a zoologist and be a zoo keeper. Well, my chance has come. I start the academy on the second of July to become a detention officer in Yavapai County here in Arizona.

What in the heck does THAT have to do with scooters, you may ask. Well, I had to get uniforms and that meant a rousing romp to Phoenix once again on my Buddy, heretofore known as the Red Baron. Any excuse, you know... Also, fellow Scarab Hump and his lovely wife Lee had posted an invitation for any and all Scarabs to join them at the Dubliner, the Irish pub where Hot Tomato works as a chef. They were featuring a soul/blues band that night called (I think...) Night Shift. And they were moderately acceptable. Back to the trip, now.

I packed my newly aquired S/X rear bag and a sleeping bag on the scooter and blew out of town at about 3 p.m. on the evening of June the 15th. I headed east on Hwy 260 towards the town of Camp Verde and the previously mentioned "Goat Trail" up to Hwy 87. I took a couple of pictures of the trip up the Goat Trail...they are the first and second pictures in the previous post entitled "In The Beginning". The second one shows the mountains off to the south that I would eventually have to cross.

It was a nice uneventful, though laborious trip up to Hwy 87. Laborious because of the stiff headwind I had to buck. I've mentioned before that Hwy 87 (also known as the Beeline Highway) goes north towards Winslow or south through Payson into Mesa, an eastern suburb of Phoenix. I happily slowed traffic down all the way up to the Beeline. Once on 87, though, it goes downhill for a while into Strawberry and Pine, where I got to show the cars the proper way to negotiate a hairpin curve. Outside of Pine the hills began again and the cars all had the opportunity (which they took) to blow by me as the road briefly offers a turnout situation for slower traffic...ie; overloaded Buddys bucking headwinds.

Nothing else really was an issue. I rolled into Payson where I topped off the fuel tank with .94 gallons. Only 77 mpg. What a gas hog!!

I hit Fountain Hills just before dusk and turned westward onto Shea Blvd where I once again began searching for a gas station. I found one and topped off again, taking the moment to call Hump for the address to the Dubliner. I have a 52 year old memory and things have a tendancy to fall out... Hump clued me in and I headed west again to Hayden where I went north to whatever road it is that the pub is on. Once again, I forget. West again to the little strip mall where sits the Dubliner in all it's glory! I know I was at the right place because Hot Tomato's new Stella was sitting on the sidewalk in front. I slipped my scratched up, dirty, hot Buddy up next to her shiney Stella and went in. I was surprised to see as many Scarabs and friends there as I saw since nobody had really commited to come. In picture 3 in the "In The Beginning" post are, from the left, Hump's wife, Lee, Hump, Sandy V. and Cristian. In number four, again from the left nearest me are Tryg, Cris, Sandy, Lee's friend Karen, Lee, Hump and with her back to me (I can NEVER get a good picture of her...) is Hot Tomato, chef extrordinaire. In fact, she sent us out a dish she concocted that was steamed scallops with candied bacon in an orange sauce that was FANTASTIC!! I truly became a pig for awhile.

Later, Hot Tomato led me to Hump's place where I was spending the night. Hump and Lee stayed out longer than I was able to, so with an apartment key and their blessing I headed for bed. HT's Stella used to belong the Skimch, the founder of the Scarabs and that boy knows how to tune a scooter! She and I blasted through the desert night in the city at high rates of speed for, I'm guessing about 30 miles. It was in the mid-seventies out at around midnight and it was scooter heaven!! What a fabulous ride. We'll both be grinning about that for a long time! I'd be proud to ride with that girl any time!

I stuffed the Red Baron into the cubbyhole where Hump keeps his Bajaj and went to bed. I'd gotten up at 1:30 that morning to go to work and I was toasted! Up early and packed for my sojourn to the uniform store. I got what I needed after first hanging around a little coffee shop clubmate Isaac had recommended. They had a nice breakfast coffee with cream and dark chocolate that just hit the spot. Believe it or not, I was able to pack my overnight clothes, sleeping bag, two pairs of trousers, seven shirts, a belt, a pair of handcuffs and case, a tie and a pair of boots onto that little scooter. Good thing I didn't have to cross any interstate scale stations!

Back out Shea to the Beeline, I went. North on the Beeline, stopping for fuel at Ft. McDowell casino. Sorry, no slots...just gas. I rumbled up the hills toward Payson, some 75-80 miles away. About 15 miles south of Payson, though, is a little town called Rye. In Rye is a big motorcycle boneyard. He also has a number of older cars and trucks, but the majority of the stuff is two and three wheeled. I have to admit to confusing myself with the next 3 posts. The next one to look at is actually the fourth one, entitled; "At The Boneyard". The first picture shows the loaded up Red Baron in front of a dwarf racer and a chopped Honda 360 (I think...). The second is the 3-wheeled truck from Lord only knows where that you have to pass to enter the yard. The third pic shows the poor lonely scooters on the other side of the fence. Four and five are two of the Lambrettas I found languishing there.

Go back up to the 3rd post titled "More", where in order are pics of a P200E Vespa, two more Lambrettas, a Fuji Rabbit (kinda rare in these parts) and a picture of an actual World War II Army Cushman. The Army commissioned these to be built for the express purpose of airlifting them into combat situations. They were tough and easy to use, making them ideal for military use. I have NO idea how it ended up in Rye, Arizona.

The last post from the boneyard is the one entitled; "Off The Wall". There were a number of unusual vehicles there that (in order of pic placement) show two DKW motorcycles. Really odd looking devices, but way cool anyway. Then there was an actual factory built 3-wheeled Tote Goat. Most of you are probably not old enough to know what a Tote Goat is, but essentially, it was the for-runner to the modern Honda Ruckus. You can just barely see one of the rear wheels on the right side of the vehicle. I'd never seen one before. Then there is a picture of a carnival ride motorcycle. Hmmm...a scooter engine...hmmm... Anyway, the final pic is of a couple of the Isettas he had sitting there.

The final post, entitled; "On The Way Home" had a scenic picture of me topping the hill before the descent into Camp Verde, some 30 miles away. Beautiful! This is why I love my long rides! The next picture is proof that a Genuine Buddy can top 70 miles per hour! I have to admit to seeing 80 on the speedo in the past, but not this trip. Three and four are just scenic pictures taken from the Beeline Highway just north of Ft. McDowell casino.

Well, there it is. Another long trip on the Red Baron. 376 miles, 5.08 gallons of gas for an average of 74.60 mpg. Not the best I've seen, but the little scoot was WAY loaded down and I was bucking a headwind all the way down and SERIOUS hills on the way up. From about a thousand foot elevation in Phoenix (maybe) to over 7000 feet at the top of the Beeline. Tough going for anything in 90-some degree weather and my little 125 cc scooter passed up all kinds of broken down vehicle from SUV's to a couple of Harleys. $2500 well spent, I'd say...

C-ya...ride on!
--Keys

...in the beginning...

Off The Wall Vehicles

...more...

At The Boneyard

On The Way Home

New Project!

Well, I may have bitten off more than I can chew... My dear friend Jenn came over to my house today with her main squeeze, Frank, and brought me a new project. A 1953 Allstate. Now, the Allstates of the day were known as "Cruisaires" and were basically the same as the Vespa "handlebar models". They sported a 125cc engine and 8" wheels and Sears came to the conclusion that shock absorbers were not needed on the front end, so no Allstates were ever marketed with a shock. Kinda scares me...

So, we pulled this little scooter out of the back of Frank's SUV and set it on the driveway. HOO boy!! Wiring is non-existant. Cables, too. And for the life of me, I can't see how the throttle works. Apparently some ol' farmer thought the same thing, since he mounted a steel rod on the right side of the seat with a hand throttle on it. Kinda like a cheap Sears lawnmower. Looking further, there are no cowls. Anybody know where I can pick up a couple of cowls for a handlebar model Vespa? And check out the wheels!!! They are hardware store 6" wheels for some kind of a cart or wagon. However, the brush applied red paint is quite attractive...

Let's see...what else does it have? Umm, no seat. No levers. It DOES however have the original headlight and tailight in good condition. The body (except for the legshield) is in decent shape. It still rolls. Kinda. To be honest, I don't know if it will ever come together. Make a fine coffee table, though...

C-ya...ride on,

--Keys

Skull Valley Rally III

This last weekend, May 19th - 21st, was the world famous Scarabs Scooter Club Skull Valley Rally III. And YOU missed it! C'mon, now...get it together! Yeah, I'm talkin' to you, Steve!



Anyway, I blew out of Cottonwood at about eleven Friday morning, heading over Mingus Mountain once again towards Prescott. I filled the tank just before leaving to see how far I could get. So, over the mountain, through Prescott, south on Hwy 89, past Wilhoit, through Peeples Valley and Yarnell. Finally, as we rumbled into Congress at about the 96 mile mark I stopped for gas. 90.6 miles per gallon. 175 smiles per gallon. There was a young man filling the tank on a pickup there who asked me about a hundred questions about scooters, so being the unofficial scooter emissary to the unenlightened, I patiently told him that yes, it could do about 65 and cruise at 60 mph. And yes, it gets 90 mpg. And yes, I paid about $2500 for it brand new. And yes, I rode all the way from Cottonwood and ain't gonna stop until I run into Phoenix. Finally we parted...me with a full tank and on a mission and him with a thoughtful look on his face.



I grabbed Hwy 60 in Wickenburg and plowed southeast in search of the Great Sticker Patch known as Phoenix. I found it, too! Next on my agenda was food, so I stopped at a Burger Whopper in Surprise, Arizona for some grub. After eating, I climbed back on the Buddy and headed out. As soon as I hit 62 miles per hour, the engine quit. I futzed with the throttle and the engine kicked back in again. It did this several times...just up and felt like I'd hit the kill switch (which, by the way, I did NOT). I nursed it down to Glendale Avenue in (of all places) Glendale, Arizona...a suburb of Phoenix and followed Sandy's directions to hers and Damn Dirty Dave's house. Sandy and I visited a little and I made aquaintances with a dog and a couple of rabbits while she got ready for the Meet-N-Greet to be held that evening at Hollywood Alley (www.hollywoodalleyrocks.com) in Tempe...clear on the southeast end of the Valley of the Sunstroke. About 30 miles away! Along about six, Jes' Jim showed up and the three of us climbed on our scooters, Jim on his Piaggio BV 500, Sandy on her Bajaj Chetak and me on the Red Baron. With Sandy in the lead, we flew through traffic (she's FAST), across overpasses, through intersections and I just don't know what-all, but eventually we ended up at the club. The Buddy only cut out on me twice.



At the club I renewed aquaintances with Cheese and Potatoes (Irving and Cristian Rubio), met our own personal DJ's; Victor, Marble, Scott and Ben. Anyway, they did a fabulous job. The Meet-N-Greet pictures are in the first group of photos just below. In order, they show the DJ's, Scott, Victor, Marble and Ben; the second one has a casual Monkey on the left and Sandy on Damn Dirty Dave's lap. Number three is Irving and Cristian. Cris is the one with the grin. Four shows Elvis (also known as Tryg) and Chicken Little (Hot Tomato). The fifth one shows Brandon on his way from wherever he is...he just ran out of beans before he made it. And Hump showed up and Skimch and Rick and...well, just all the right folks! We had a great time! After hanging out for a while and buying a rally pack, I once again found myself chasing Jes' Jim and Sandy back to the Sandy/Dave house where I was spending the night. We stopped for gas since I was about out...I hadn't added any since Congress. Sandy tried to get gas, but neither she nor Jim or I could get the seat up on her Bajaj. It has a Vespa seat and the latch just wasn't cooperating. She had enough to get home, though. Barely.



We once again pursued our high-speed passes over the streets of Phoenix and found ourselves at the Sandy/Dave house. Jim headed home and Sandy went to bed, leaving me to dig out my tools and try to fix whatever needed fixed. First, I got the seat up on her Bajaj. It's amazing what a hammer can do! Then I pulled the seat bucket on the Buddy and commenced to disconnect the carburetor. I pulled the bowl off and cleaned the jets. Didn't look bad, but better safe than sorry. Then, since the problem only happened at high speeds and felt like fuel starvation, I adjusted the floats up a little. Put it back together and IT STILL RAN!! Never had another problem, either! About that time Damn Dirty Dave and Irish Tim showed up. Tim was in from Tucson with his Stella (yes, the same one that wiped out in front of me on the Something For Nothing Rally last September) and was also spending the night. I moseyed on to bed and Irish Tim and Damn Dirty commenced working on Dave's ratted out Elite 250 until about 3 a.m.



Next morning, Isaac on his Buddy and Shannon on her Stella showed up and joined Damn Dirty, Irish Tim, Sandy and I on the ride over to the breakfast place from whence the ride would start. In the second batch of pics, you'll see four of the scooters in front of the Sandy/Dave house just before we left. They would be, from the left, Shannon's pink Stella, Isaac's Buddy, my Buddy (the Red Baron) and Tim's Stella. The rest of the pics were taken at the breakfast place (called, appropriately enough, The Place). The fourth picture shows Tryg in the forground, left. Behind him is Isaac and to the right of Isaac is Sandy taking a picture of me. At the far right is Shannon. There were 19 motorscooters (and a Honda Leadwing somebody sneaked in) and two vehicles in our group. Jayme and Ian were there, and Jenn, Scott's wife, and Mrs. Monkey (Angie) and all the others I've mentioned heretofore, plus probably others who escape me right now...Then...WE'RE OFF!!



What a kick it is to ride in a big pack of scooters! We stopped to gas up to the amusement of all onlookers. I figured that all of us together probably spent less than one of those onlookers spent filling the tank on their SUV... We had a fabulous ride from Phoenix up through Wickenburg and north. Not one of the scooters broke down, nobody had ANY problems at all! Nineteen scooters just buzzing happily up the highway. Okay, here's the breakdown of all the scooters that were in our group that day; 5 Stellas, 3 Buddy's, 3 Bajaj's, 2 Vespa GTS250's and one each of the following; Honda Elite 250, Vespa P200, Yamaha Majesty, Piaggio LT150, Kymco People 250 and a Vespa LX 150. And EVERY one of them kept up!

We motored on up through Congress, Yarnell and Peeples Valley without mishap. THEN came Kirkland Junction, where we make a left to go through Skull Valley. I was fourth from the front and made the left, where we pulled over to regroup. At this time, Hot Tomato rode up and said something to Sandy who took off, heading back to the actual junction at a dead run. Suspecting something was wrong, I spun the Red Baron around and howled back to where the rest of the pack had stopped. Damn Dirty Dave was down.

Apparently, his air intake was working loose and he looked down for a moment to brace his foot against it and when he looked up, all he saw were brake lights (for the corner). He grabbed handsfull of brakes and at that very inopportune moment, he hit a little rock that was in the road. As the front-end unloaded over the rock, the wheel locked up and when it hit ground again (still locked), the bike flipped into a high-side crash. Dave went down head-first. When I got there, he was awake and asking questions..."What happened?" "How's my bike?" and just as those questions were answered, he asked them again. Yep, he had a doozy of a concussion! He had a fair bit of road-rash, but by far, the worst injury was to his head. I checked out his helmet and it was ground down so far I could push my finger through! Tryg and Irish Tim are both EMT's, so he was in good hands. Then some guy stopped and prayed in tongues over him. NEVER turn down an offer to help...you never know what will work! Then the local fire chief happened by, then about 6 highway patrol cars showed up with an ambulance. THEY in turn called a helicopter for him to take him back to Phoenix. He was loaded in the chopper and his and Sandy's scooters were loaded in Ian's pickup for the trip back.

In the third set of pictures, the first one is where we say goodbye to Damn Dirty Dave for the day, the second one is where he's being worked on by the EMT's...check out those stylish drawers! The line-up of scooters is shown in the third picture, followed by a picture of what's left of the Elite. In the last picture, we're on our way again...only 17 scooters, now.

Along about 3:30 or 4 in the afternoon, Jes' Jim led us on a back road to a place on the outskirts of Prescott called T-Lo's Ultimate Off-Road (www.mogsrus.com). He is a purveyor of Mercedes Unimogs, Pinzgauers, and the like. He also has a great collection of mopeds! He took all who "ain't skeered" on a demonstration of what a 6-wheel drive Pinzgauer is capable of. And lemme tell ya, his place is well named...Ultimate Off-Road!! That beast did stuff I didn't think was possible within the laws of physics!! What a ride!! Hot Tomato and Jughead (Justin) supplied a lunch for us of wonderful cold-cuts and breads. The picture group entitled "At T-Lo's" has two pictures of some of the mopeds followed by two pictures of a chopped moped they made. It was wild! It has a shovel blade for a seat! Why did I post 2 pictures of the same thing? I don't know. Don't know how to remove one, either. That's the same reason for the fifth picture being the same as the first. The last picture is of a custom 1930 Rally race car. It sports a Ford flathead V-8 and an underslung frame and some fabulous bodywork. T-lo took Jes' Jim, Jar Jar and Hot Tomato for rides. HT came back with tears streaming from her eyes and a grin that took about 3 days to get rid of. T-lo estimated the value of the car to be around $100,000!!

A local scooterist with ties to the Scarabs showed up to finally meet us. Thanks for showing, Kyle! We got back on the scooters after packing up lunch and went our separate ways to our rooms. I bunked with Irish Tim at the Vendome Hotel...a bed and breakfast place. VERY nice! If you're ever in the neighborhood, I highly recommend it. The piano player doesn't do enough boogie-woogie, though. We hung around a bit, sipping coffee (me) and a couple of brews (Tim), then moseys across the courthouse square to Brian's Irish Pub just off of Whiskey Row where we met the rest of the group...except Jes' Jim who had gotten sick. T-lo met us and we followed him to some place for dinner that he recommended. Good food, great company! Got a phone call to let us know Damn Dirty Dave had been released and was at home. Still a little fuzzy, though. Most of the group filed out, heading back to Brian's. I stayed and visited with my good friends Ian and Jayme who had shown up late after delivering Sandy and DDDave's scooters to their house. We eventually met up with the crowd, though. Most of 'em were well on their way to getting well plowed as a three-piece rockabilly band pumped them up! Good times! I think it was around midnight when Irish Tim and I went back to the room. He woke up at about 3:45 thinking I'd inhaled my sleeping bag. A couple throw pillows nailing me in the head shut me up. Sort of.

Sunday morning we met at the cafe in the St. Michael's Hotel for chow, then across to the Courthouse park for our raffle. A very nice old lady of probably 70-some years saw the scooters parked and rode over on her pristine 1986 Honda Elite 250. DDDave's might have looked that good sometime...I kinda doubt it, though. I called my dear friend Jenn (of riding her GT200 to Denver fame) and she and Frank showed up. The raffle went off without a hitch and our wonderful sponsors showed what generous people they are! I even won something!! I won an S/X rear bag from Scooterswest! I was planning on asking my wife for one for my birthday in June!! SCORE!!! Hot Tomato won a Corazzo jacket, ...in fact, I think EVERYone got something! Damn Dirty Dave called during the raffle and expressed his displeasure (on Skimch's speaker-phone) at not getting to win anything. Tryg told him nobody else won a helicopter ride! End of THAT conversation! The last set of pictures shows the Red Baron sporting it's new bag in the first pic, followed by a photo of my dear Jennifer. The third is a shot of the scoots with Tryg and his Buddy in the foreground, next to Hot Tomato by her Majesty. The fourth is another shot of the line-up with Rene's Elite 250 in the street. Once again I repeat myself in the fifth. Once again I repeat myself in the fifth. Wait...didn't I just say that???

Time for me to be on my way. I shook a bunch of hands, got more than my share of hugs, fired up the Red Baron and went on my way. I got home with no problems, unloaded the scooter and flopped in my chair with a cold coke to think about one of the best weekends ever!

452 miles. 4.99 gallons of gas. Average mileage for the weekend: 90.58 miles per gallon. Average throttle placement; Wide Full Out! I get more impressed with that little Buddy every time I take a trip!

Well, I'm going to bed...
C-ya...ride on!
--Keys