A Change Of Tires

From time to time one needs new tires. For those that think a motorcycle is a cheap alternative to a car, think again. True you can get better gas mileage depending on the car and the motorcycle. But on a car expect to get 40,000 miles out of the tires. 

 

That ten inch sucker cost me $58 and if I'm lucky I might get 4,000 miles out of it. 70 miles to the gallon of premium gas, negligible insurance and registration costs but tires...especially for scooters. Larger motorcycle tires last twice as long but cost...twice as much! 

 

The front tire should last twice as long. So every time I change the front tire I replace the drive belt. Automatic scooters are powered by a toothed belt that is gripped by a pair of discs and the faster you go the tighter they grip. No gears and constantly varying gears just by twisting the gas...ingenious, easy to use but there are those costs involved. 

 

For me the scooter is a fun ride. I have been denying age related arthritis in my left hand and wrist which makes riding a motorcycle tough for me now. The riding position and the need to pull in the clutch to change gears exacerbates the pain which I offset with exercise rather than the pills prescribed for me. The Vespa offers a bolt upright seating position and a soft brake lever on the left rather than a stiff clutch like my Bonneville. 

So I have to ponder my future rides. For now I rely on my Vespas and ride the Bonneville to work once a week to keep it active. At 500 pounds it's also a heavy lump to keep upright if I have to rely on my left wrist to keep it balanced and upright. A few times, more than I'd care to say I have feared dropping it as my wrist let me down. Jiri my practical Czech motorcycle mechanic said dryly "keep your car" as we discussed the choice of automatic motorcycles available. 

Rusty is the main reason I use the Bonneville very little these days. If I want to take a trip I like his company so I have to take the car. He isn't complaining. 

Mind you he likes hanging out in Jiri's air conditioned shop playing with Jiri's dog.  Which is leashed as he likes to chase passing unsuspecting cyclists. 

 

So now the oil is changed, the tires are new and I am good for summer. Maybe by Fantasy Fest my wrist will have regenerated tissue and all this talk of aging can be set aside for a while longer. I doubt it.

Mechanical Entropy, Coffee & Gossip

They say that things come in threes, catastrophes usually and though I can't say its devastating it definitely gets annoying when one's life is taken up by things mechanical going awry.  There has been the ongoing struggle to get the boat fixed, a mysterious ailment that fingers crossed, seems to be okay for now. Then there are my two wheelers...When I was over at Jiri's shop on Stock island it looked like a Vespa dealer with other people's Italian scooters on both stands:

My Bonneville is in the shop for its major annual service. It's seven years old with 81,000 miles on the clock and roughly once a year it gets a major going over, all fluids changed, cables lubricated, carburetors balanced and this time around tires, chain and sprockets replaced. Also I had some difficulty starting after a rain storm one night at work so I asked that the plug caps as well as the plugs themselves be replaced. It was a mysterious failure to start that corrected itself equally mysteriously and I fear moisture in the exposed ignition system was to blame. Pushing the 500 pound Bonneville to Jiri's shop from work was going to be a tough four miles. I was glad when it decided to start, just as mysteriously when I pressed the starter button as an idle afterthought about the time I got tired of pushing the motorbike. It roared to life and I jumped on and rode home directly not daring to hope I would arrive. I did 23 miles without hesitation or stalling and immediately got on the phone with Jiri who promised to investigate when I brought the bike back in.

If that failure happens again I may have to have the coils replaced but we shall see if plug caps solve the issue. Meanwhile my wife's Vespa which I have appropriated for the time being as my daily rider, needed a new rear tire so that was one more job for The Man. A quickie, but still a chore as I don't do tires on my modern Vespa struggling with wheel removal tire irons and all that. On my 1979 soon-to-be restored Vespa the interchangeable wheels have split rims which don't need tire irons to remove the tires. Very nice old fashioned technology which is one reason I like the old two stroke models; order the tires and install them myself. Plus I get a spare wheel to drag around with me on the road. 

Jiri has been coping with his own troubles, an ex-wife who went back Up North and took their daughter. Jiri lives for his daughter and is distraught living in his beloved Key West with his child so far away. Just one more reminder that life in the Keys can be real tough, as Paradise can be a demanding mistress.  I suspect in Spring, if the ex is still enamored of the Great White Wilderness of the snowy northern states I may well be losing my mechanic who would rather repair snowmobiles in Michigan if it means seeing his offspring every day. I am desolate at the thought. All that would be left of mechanics within a hundred miles is the Yamaha dealer in Key West and a Harley guy on Big Pine Key. My Triumph will have to go to the dealer in Miami if my worst fear comes to pass and Jiri leaves. Welcome to the Keys where everything changes and not always for the better!

My Vespa needed new fuel hoses, the ten year old originals were rotting and the scooter was running too rough for Jiri to countenance. I left on a Vespa running as smooth as silk on new rubber. Then I stopped to get a Cuban coffee on my way to an unnatural daytime overtime shift at work. I got to listen to a lot of conversation as I waited and as is the way they talked about everything under the sun. The weather, the (lack of) hurricanes (so far), work stuff, and the news headlines. Which made me squirm in this case.

The police department has been in the news lately and they had some tart comments about what they had read. I avoid knowing about anything that either does not relate directly to my job answering  phones at the department, or is not reported in the paper, so I like being a  mushroom at work, in the dark about all news because no one has the full true story and everyone has an opinion. Lining up for Cuban coffee felt like participating in a stage play as a walk on silent part as I stood behind the principal players in the daily drama of as the city turns. I listened, said nothing and tried to pretend the sudden silence as I stepped forward to collect my con leche had nothing to do with me, or the uniform shirt I was wearing with a big silver cloth police badge. I took my coffee, reaching through the frigid atmosphere breathed by men who had said too much, too publicly, in a  very small introverted little town. I took my coffee and ran, saying nothing, wondering what can one possibly say in a world where no one believes journalists but everyone reads them anyway.

One time I was in a similar situation only the Mouth was some other guy in a line in front of me going on about how dispatchers ask too many questions when you call 911. I broke in and proceeded to explain in some excruciating detail exactly why we ask the questions and I don't know if he learned anything from my detailed explanation but at least it was me and the job I do he was bad mouthing, so I was happy to set him straight, politely but in no uncertain terms. We ask questions for a reason when you dial 911.

My advice to anyone moving to the Keys is the same: mind who you get mad at, because you never know the extent and the depth of human relationships in these small tight knit communities. And at the end of the day gossip is primed to explode unexpectedly harming anyone within reach. Lucky for me and for those guys I just kept my head down and kept moving. Tomorrow who knows if I will be as successful, just minding my own beeswax..

My Czech Friend, A Jawa 350 Hack

                                                                                   

Years ago when I was a youngster riding exotic Italian motorcycles in England there were quite a few cheap East European imports, MZ two strokes from East Germany and Jawa motorcycles from Czechoslovakia. The Berlin Wall came down and all the economic advantages of Communist imports evaporated with the countries they came from. Except...MZ came back as a German brand with modern machines and were even imported briefly to he US. Jawa on the other hand is still going strong with a niche market in England, much the way the Indian brand Royal Enfield is creating its own niche in the First World. Of course a two stroke 350cc twin is not going to set the US on fire  but when I saw this picture on Real Classics I was reminded once again how nostalgic I am getting about motorcycles in my old age. A Jawa 350 is good for 80 miles per hour flat out, but with a sidecar, I wonder if it will cruise at 60? Cheyenne and I aren't lightweights either...

If you desire three wheels on your wagon and are seeking traditional style, then F2 Motorcycles have just the job: their new Jawa Retro Sidecar Combination. This uses the current Jawa 350 Retro two-stroke motorcycle matched with a purpose-designed all-steel sidecar. The sidecar is mounted high and with very little axle lead, a set-up much loved back in the golden days of the sidecar. Back then bikes were relatively slow, so lightweight, low speed steering was more important than high speed straight line stability. Modern sidecars tend to be mounted lower and much further forward, but F2 wanted to recreate the feel as well as the look of yesteryear's outfits.

The outfit as pictured costs  6200 pounds in England, almost ten grand in the US, though I have noticed over the years that prices tend to be equal in each market so I'd like to think that in the US if this delight ever came here -not likely!- it might cost $6200. That would be interesting... And if you are in the tiny minority that might agree check this page out: Jawa UK

                                                       

My buddy Jiri, he who keeps my two wheelers  running at his shop on Stock Island grew up near Brno in Czechoslovakia under Soviet rule and he longed for the bikes I was able to see and ride in the West. Nowadays he likes to ride on the track at Homestead  and elsewhere and his engine of choice is a four cylinder Japanese classic style. He is not fond of two strokes, so while he thinks my preference for the twin cylinder Bonneville is eccentric, my desire for a two stroke Vespa fills him with horror. I call it my Trabant, the infamous two stroke East German car, the greatest wheels a Communist citizen could aspire to in the years before 1989. 

So, yes, my desire for Jawa 350 Retro is  nothing more than a fantasy. but for those too young to remember two stroke touring bikes, simplicity was their virtue, and the older I get the more simplicity seems desirable. Hence my desire for my two stroke Vespa, which I hope will become real in a  few short weeks.