Melatonin

1) Put the little orange flavored pill under your tongue before going to bed the night before you fly.
2)Put the little orange flavored pill under your tongue before sleep on the plane.
3)Put the little orange flavored pill under your tongue the first night in the new time zone.
4) Rent the motorcycle as soon as you arrive at your destination and get riding.
Melatonin- how to overcome jet lag the easy way.

And with just ten days to go before I have to give up this remarkable motorcycle I
have some riding to do. Thats the good news. the bad news is that Italy is going
through a cloudy thundery rainy period this week and my desire to ride this 170 hp
1200R BMW is overwhelming my common sense.

Italy is horribly expensive notwithstanding the exchange rate that has dropped the Euro all
the way down to 1.55 to the dollar. And I haven't even had to add gas to the crotch rocket
yet at $9 to the gallon. The good news is, if I fall off the thing (and it is REALLY fast!)
medical care is free.

Giovanni looks tired and he is looking forward to a few days off, goofing with me.
His wife Rossana is tired too and dispirited by the cramped economy,
the lack of raises and the cost of maintaining and supplying the expanding needs of two teenaged
children. When I visit Terni, in Umbria, and see the reality of provincial Italian life I am reminded of the popular US stereotype of La Dolce Vita and Fellini films which doesn't translate into 21st century reality. It's great to visit though, with a fistful of dollars (even weak ones) and no obligations a all ( my wife's
present is secure already. I know which side my bread is buttered on). I probably shouldn't say it but it does make me more glad than ever that I found the common sense at a young age, to emigrate. That I landed up in the Keys wasjust icing on tha particular cake.

Gotta go find a real cappuccino and a jam filled pastry for breakfast, oh I miss eggs over easy,
and there's a tank full of horribly expensive gas to burn in them thar hills. And this computer sucks eggs. It has a mind of its own.
Aren't vacations great?

Further Moods of Highway One

This post I published originally in July last year, and as I am on vacation here is a repeat from the days I used to ride my Vespa 250 everywhere:

Its closing in on 5pm and that means its time for me to start thinking about pulling it all together for my commute into town. I collect my bag and my lunchbox, slip into my formal going-to-work shoes and head towards the Vespa, which is parked under the house.

I wear an open helmet with goggles, leather gloves and a broad smile as I putter down my street attempting civility at a sedate 25 miles per. Its always a hassle leaving the house, the quiet, the dappled sunlight, the comfort of the arm chair, the books, the radio, the whatever-I-want-to-do-next. The desire to stay is mitigated by the desire to ride, as ridiculous as that sounds.

So off he goes, Snoopy to the Rescue, all I lack is a scarf as my Vespa makes a nice substitute for a dog house. The riding position of the scooter requires a straight back which makes for good posture but its also very comfortable, unlike most motorcycles which usually demand contortions from your arms, and a bottom made of asbestos the seats are so uncomfortable. Burning ass syndrome. Why do we ride motorcycles? Because we like our self image I dare say...

And because we like to skirt complex traffic situations which do arise from time to time in our Florida Keys.

I don't know what backed up the traffic going into Big Pine that day but whatever it was I had the camera with me so I could stop and make some good use of the moment. I have also made some good use of time by poking around the back streets of Big Pine Key, and this at first glance doesn't look like such a bright idea.

Big Pine is so named because of its size, not because of the size of the trees that grow there. Big Pine is also synonymous with down-at-heel stores, landscaping designed and implemented by moles and homesteads apparently occupied by residents who remain firmly convinced despite all evidence to the contrary, that planting a car will grow a new automobile. Nevertheless when Highway One is jammed this is one place in the bottle neck (Matecumbe Keys is another) where you can ride the back roads to avoid the arterial blockages that occasionally hold up traffic in downtown Big Pine.

Its a matter of slipping past the trailers in their lots, darting round long dormant cars, finding the gap in concrete barricades put out with the express purpose of preventing the use of the street as thoroughfares, and eventually making your way to Winn Dixie shopping center. Once there you have outsmarted Highway One, and wasted a fair bit of time too, because the back roads really aren't faster if Highway One is moving at all.

Heading south, past my street, Highway One opens up into a series of long open straightaways, open vista bridges, sweeping curves and occasional businesses, frequently modeled on the Big Pine style of minimum landscaping and maximum neon and plastic.

So, on the ride in to Key West, its a matter of inserting oneself into the traffic flow as best one can and taking the road as it comes. Some days, in summer mostly, especially in the later, hurricane prone months, the traffic gets lighter and the road is a fast run to Stock Island, sometimes even less than 30 minutes followed by a straight shot to work with cooperating traffic lights. In winter the highway becomes an endless stream of snowbirds. God only knows what they are doing on the road during commute hours but they successfully manage to clog the highway and slow everything down, by a few minutes.

The rise of the bridge over Niles Channel gives me the best view of the surrounding waters, in the morning its an apocalyptic vision of a blood-red sun rising through the thunder heads. In the afternoon its the same sun, this time worn out by a day of shining, that blasts into my eyes as I weigh up the chances of passing as we hit the down slope and the dotted yellow lines. (The old Flagler Railway Bridge alongside, vintage 1911, is now a fishing pier).

After the descent into Summerland Village, a mish mash of small businesses including the keys best pizza (Slice of Paradise) and a good video store that keeps us going, we have another quick chance to pass slowpoke cars at the entrance to Cudjoe Key but after that its long straightaways, sweepers and hedges of mangroves broken by bridges, views of the water and then more mangroves, more bridges more water.

The 55mph stretch through the Saddlebunch Keys is always good for a quick cheap passing thrill. If I'm in the mood and there's an end in sight to the traffic I can slide up behind the last car in the line and zip past in one of several dotted yellow line sections with good sight lines.

I think it shocks people to see a "moped" passing them, where a "real" motorcycle would be just a fact of life. Passing with the Vespa does tend to take a bit of planning. I don't do it if the line of vehicles is endless, I see no point in just moving up a few dots in the string. If the cars are doing a real 60 mph in the 55mph zone I also tend to hold back. But if they are dawdling at 50mph, they're dead meat. My dead meat. I hold back, eye the gaps in the cars in front and as the last oncoming vehicle approaches I wind up my gearless 250. I surge up to 70, pass the offending dawdler and tuck myself out of sight on the right hand side of the lane, where I can see past the vehicles in front on the inside of the right hand corners.

And then we get in close to Key West, the four lane opens up and I'm in the fast lane immediately and they think i will be a hindrance on my moped... There's only six miles of four lane, from Big Coppitt and East Rockland, past the Navy base on Boca Chica, through Stock island blending into the urban island) sprawl of North Roosevelt Boulevard in the city.

By the time I'm stuck at the light at the baseball fields I'm 5 minutes from work, so at a red light I pull my sweaty helmet off, stow it with my gloves under my seat and cruise refreshed in to work.

Commuting was never meant to be like this, and for millions it isn't. But for me, even on a rainy day smothered in my rain suit, passing wobbly giant SUV's whose occupants are terrified of water it seems, this is too much like fun. On windy days with gusts of fresh damp air tugging at my sleeves it is supposed to be a nuisance commuting by two wheels. Not for me.

The Internet forums are full of words of caution about small wheeled scooters, words that should fill me with dread on the crusty, tattered surface of the highway with its holes and its bounce and its patches and its dips. My Vespa eats the miles like they were velvet and my back shows neary a complaint. Not even when I'm riding my wife's 150cc Vespa with its modest 10-inch wheels- and it hits 65mph easily!