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