Small Motorcycles

I bought my first motorcycle in the Fall of 1975 when I was weeks away from turning 18. I was in Italy and I had previously passed my British motorcycle test which allowed me to ride a full sized motorcycle at 17 so when a  friend told me this fire engine red MV Agusta was for sale I was ready to buy and ride. Looking back I wonder at myself, because I added some plastic saddle bags and  backpack and took off across Europe on it to see my family in England. Just like that. The bike did fine, and remarkably enough so did my 18 year old spine riding long days on the cafe racer.

So when I read about what  bike do you need to travel I am firmly in the camp that whatever you have will do. Naturally there are some that carry more stuff or have more comfortable seats and as always cost a lot more. But Modern motorcycles are amazing, reliable and requiring little maintenance, well built and well equipped compared to the tractors we rode  40 years ago. And as if to cheer me up a whole bunch of new small motorcycles are coming onto the market to cheer American riders up. BMW  has shocked everyone with this 310 to be shown off at the big motorbike show EICMA in Milan this week:

The BMW is supposedly part of a drive by European and US manufacturers to penetrate the Indian market, which is huge with a burgeoning middle class and a population moving from scooters to motorcycles. They have tons of models as do other south east Asian and Latin American countries that we never see. However in order to generate brand loyalty and create exciting new models foreigners have to get over a massive import tax on foreign machines levied by the Indian Government. So they build their Indian market bikes in India. Triumph had plans to do the same and scrapped their proposed 350 single. KTM from Austria has a joint venture in India building a 200cc single and a 390cc version has made it to the States:

In order to seduce Indian youth the bikes are modern looking with all modern conveniences but for the US market some people think old fashioned looking small bikes will tug at heart strings, like Genuine's new 400 which looks like small Triumph Bonneville single with twin exhausts. I like the looks of it though spoked wheels and tires with tubes are a drag in this day and age when you repair a flat roadside if it's tubeless.

I owned Yamaha's SR500 in 1979 and riode it around West Africa for half a year and had a grand old time. They still make it in Japan where it's restricted to 400cc capacity to allow younger riders to buy it and it is apparently popular. They've sold a few since they re-introduced it last year in the US despite the lack of electric start and a price tag of fully  six thousand dollars.  I want one tubed tires and all!

Goodness there are a lot of smaller motorcycles appearing in the US and now Sym , known for it's scooters is going to be offering a rather attractive 300cc motorcycle. They haven't given any detials but it's supposed to be a more capable motorcycle than their 150cc Wolf. With 300 cc engines motorcycles should be able to get up to around 80 miles per hour and thus make them able to ride comfortably with traffic on freeways. The Sym looks good too with solid wheels and tubeless tires. Extra points for that!

Suzuki brought a well built 250 single to the US market a few years ago, rather ahead of the popularity curve and it is still offered for sale here. I liked it a lot when it first appeared as it enjoys all the usual benefits of economy and simplicity but it never generated much after market accessories, not even a luggage rack which I think is a shame.

Suzuki also brought this 250 to the US to not very glowing reviews. Its a water cooled twin with not terribly exciting performance though it does enjoy the robotic looks that are supposedly popular in this day and age. Personally I think its a look only its mother could love but I am old and form another era.

Honda has been having success with a 300cc scooter but their new range of motorcycles between 300cc and 500cc offered as standards like this 300 and as boy racer bikes too are proving popular as well. I look back at my early motorcycles and it seems a shame to me that these bikes will be reserved for short hops and Sunday rides and maybe the odd commute when they could do so much more for so little money. Scooter riders argue that scooters are more practical but  luggage and a windshield can make these motorcycles just as capable of hauling home the groceries. Plus you get a machine that will take you anywhere and offer spirited riding with a gearbox and excellent fuel economy.

If you want a really old bike the modernized Royal Enfield from India is as close as it gets alongside the more reliable Yamaha SR400. I think the Enfields are cute but they suffer from poor reliability and high maintenance requirements. I looked at how long it takes to do an oil change on these beats and they have multiple steps opening various parts of the engine for what should be a simple operation. The old foges that buy these tend to tinker more than ride. But they look and sound pretty for more than six grand.

Last among the new small bikes is the one that has been there forever. The Ninja 300 twin was sold for years and years as  a 250, capable of racing on the track or traveling to Alaska, and commuting at speeds close to a hundred miles an hour. The new 300cc is better than ever they say and still winning converts. Just another splendid choice in a whole new array of motor y les in the US. IT's a good time to be riding.

After I sold the MV Agusta I bought a Moto Morini 350 in 1977 and that year I rode it across North Africa and Spain to England with adapted luggage, no spare parts, no proper riding clothing, tubed tires and not a lot of money. No internet either for advice or to hear from people advising against my hare brained plans. I had a blast camping as I went on my little v-twin cafe racer. It didn't seem so little at the time and I rode it at similar speeds to those I ride today on my 900cc Bonneville.

I can't say I wish I were young again because I like myself at my age. But I hope youngsters will take advantage of these great bikes in this modern age to have adventures and do what they can with what they have and not worry  about size; it really doesn't matter. 

Roberts Lane

I first published this essay March 17th, 2009 and there is no Cheyenne in the pictures because I didn't get to rescue her until December of that year...so while I was here she was being run off her feet by the family that eventually abandoned her for being too old. I wonder what they would think of her now?

Roberts Lane

I parked the Bonneville in a motorcycle spot on Frances Street planning to stroll over to Nassau Lane to take some pictures. Imagine my surprise when it occurred to me I had already done that, and in fact using the "search" function at the top of the page I found the essay posted last December 18th 2008. Well bugger, I thought. This blog really has been going on too long. It was with some trepidation I went to Roberts Lane for a back up plan and honestly I couldn't remember for the life of me if I had taken pictures there or only thought about it. So I took some more.Fortunately the same "search"function revealed no previous entries by this name so here we are, off Frances Street between Southard and Angela, a stone's throw from the cemetery. Indeed Google Maps shows Roberts almost connecting with Catholic Lane, though in fact they don't seem to join without crossing private property...I could hear sounds of construction coming from the house though I was discouraged from approaching as I overheard a most unusual conversation, as I stood on tip toe, out of sight) I hoped!). One male voice said: " I don't see why they'd come after me.I never killed anyone." Which is quite devastating as the opening gambit in any conversation when followed up by the next statement to his companion in physical labor: "It wasn't like I killed anyone,"he went on: "I was just the book keeper to the mob." Which had me interested. It didn't seem like he was in the witness protection program, though why would he be laboring instead of living off his ill gotten gains? Maybe rebuilding a home on Roberts Lane is deep cover? Like the sailors in HMS Pinafore I with caution feeling, softly stole away...to enjoy some of the architectural gems of this tiny lane:It is traditional in Key west to paint the eaves over the porches in this or similar shade of blue. supposedly it keeps away insects, and more esoterically, spirits as well.I am a big fan, as are insurance companies, of metal roofs which provide the strongest hurricane protection and I particularly enjoy the old style metal roof, almost scalloped looking like this:Roberts Lane is also filled with Art which gave my wander an added fillip:Roberts Lane has a little intrigue of it's own in J Wills Burke's book Streets of Key West where he discusses a Roberts Lane off Caroline Street. From what I can gather that would be the alley way alongside Los Cubanitos Marine hardware store which never had a name as far as I knew but on Google maps it shows as Roberto Lane which may be what Burke is referring to in some geographic cosmic mix up. Or not.Burke's Roberts referred to any one of three historical figures, a "colored Sheriff" or a "colored businessman" weirdly enough a friend of Stephen Mallory, Secretary of the Confederate Navy. Ina any event the lane is here and not there nowadays. Very pretty it is too, off Frances Street:And there on Frances runs the dreaded Conch Train blathering its endless repetitive spiel at 5 miles per hour (8km/h): One needs the Conch Train as a reminder that this is Key West, not Paradise.

Streaks of Light

Many years ago a woman I lived with in Florida remarked to me that in winter the texture of the light changes in South Florida. And she was right and I have not forgotten. It does. 

 I suppose the bald fact of the matter is obvious, as the sun falls lower and lower in its arc across the sky the angle at which the sun's rays strike also changes and the sun is no longer directly overhead. The Tropic of Capricorn is only sixty miles south of here so in June the sun is almost directly overhead which makes for a hot drenched sensation to the light. By now the sun is sensibly much closer to the southern horizon and mornings are arriving earlier and with angled light at a time when I can still be awake if Cheyenne needs a walk.

Above the temple of the spirit, the Minor Basilica of St Mary Star of the Sea and below the other kind of temple, Old Town Fitness. The sun shines equally on both. I love the texture of the non native coconut palms and the shiny quality they get from the sun. They wave all day around my house and though they are a pain with huge numbers of fronds falling off all the time, and dropping coconuts, which do taste good,  I know exactly why tyey are seen everywhere in the Keys. They look lovely.

Bright white winter sunshine makes the most banal apartment complex  glow.  There is a freshness in the early morning air that elsewhere might hint at autumn, but around here with no signs of  yellowing leaves or frost or anything, it looks more like a developing spring day.

Cheyenne is learning to appreciate the coolness of the winter mornings and she seems to be more inclined to be awake when I get home from a night at work. The fact that I arrive home around 6:30 in full daylight also helps her wake up, I think.

I rarely walk with money in my pocket. I carry plastic bags and my iPhone, but if I carried money I'd end up with a huge cup of con leche and a cholesterol sandwich from Sandy's...Cuban coffee and eggy bacon Cuban bread are irresistible to me.

Tell me this cottage with the royal palms, with the shadows, with Virginia Street disappearing into the distance... this is Key West as we want to imagine it will be in a hundred years even if the ocean rises three feet in the interim. 

All this head-in-air looking at shadows and sun beams was provoked by the ride into town at seven in the morning and those big empty thunderheads in the sky.

Havana Lane

Blame Garythe Tourist who wants more pictures of the quiet streets of Key West. This one is a block long between Truman Avenue and the cemetery. Last photographed in 2011.

It is the sort of quintessential Key West lane, brimming with bicycles, no room for cars you'd think, though local drivers ignore those sorts of fears.

My colleague JW has told me some stories about one side of his family that operates the plumbing business. Stories of customers forgetting not to flush on the heads o the hard working plumbers downstairs, stories of the dismal smells of failed plumbing, stories that convinced him a work life behind a computer might be more salubrious. 

Four years ago I remarked on a  rather nice little Yamaha parked on the lane. This year there is one of the new generation Harley Davidsons, the Street 500 which you might imagine ideal for buzzing around Key West and the Keys. I rode one in North Carolina earlier this year and I quite liked it. I like most motorcycles and even though this is lacking in personality a bit I think it's  quite practical. In the land of motorcycle exaggeration a practical motorcycle that doesn't set your hair on fire...may not be great.

A Key West style break room:

The habit of depositing unsightly trash is ever present. I usually stick my large trash on my little trailer and pay a visit to the dump for a modest fee. I'd rather do that than see this stuff outside my house moldering away every day.

Cheyenne found it intriguing, as she always does.

Old Florida louvers to allow air to circulate and keep the interior shady and dry when raining. I am fond of air conditioning but I like the look:

And then I found myself immersed in a  jungle. I wish I knew how to grow stuff like this. And keep it looking nice. It would be dead inside a week at my house.

Open to vehicular traffic:

Veterans Memorial Garden

Today the park is officially dedicated, at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month.

 I went by early today on my lunch break to check out the newest memorial in Key West.

 I thought it was well done and I expect it will look good over time.

Not much to say really, except this was probably long overdue. The place is good and I'm glad there is somewhere to sit and contemplate. This town has a terror of bums occupying public spaces but he saddest part is many of these homeless are vets, we are told.  A memorial is better than nothing but it seems more like a start than a final goal.

The Eleventh Hour Of The Eleventh Day Of The Eleventh Month

Of all the days in history the one that resonates with me is Armistice Day, now known as Veteran's Day, and when I saw Canadian politicians last week celebrating the elections I noticed the poppies on their lapels...

Armistice Day was created to mark the millions who died in World War One in the poppy fields of Flanders in Belgium. They said the earth was as red as poppies with all the blood spilled on it. So through the English speaking Commonwealth people wear little paper poppies to remind themselves of all who died.

I grew up in the shadow of World War Two, food rationing was only just ending after years of suffering to pay off the endless debts of war. And now we live wars by proxy, people who died in Iraq weren't even allowed to be shown on television lest the national drama have its political story line disturbed. Veterans who deserve medical care, who were promised medical care, don't get it and no one these days promises "never again." Pearl Harbor, D Day, Bataan, and even one dare say Korea and Vietnam are becoming historical footnotes in scholarly texts in a country with the attention span, collectively, of a gold fish. If it didn't happen on Twitter and doesn't expose breasts who can remember it?

For me Armistice Day celebrating the peace treaty that took effect at 11:00 am on November the 11th 1918 remains the  day that makes all the forgotten dead and wounded and lost and missing and sacrificed for political reasons that no longer make sense. Think of all those millions who died to avenge the murder of the Serbian Archduke in Sarajevo...

And to take us back to the new bright hopes of Canada's government pictured above, it turns out the last soldier recorded to have died in the war that ended at 11:00 am that November day in 1918...was from Nova Scotia.

From Wikipedia:

On November 11, Pte George Price, Canadian Expeditionary Force, was part of an advance to take the small village of Havré. After a crossing of the Canal du Centre into the town of Ville-sur-Haine under German machine gun fire, Price and his patrol moved toward a row of houses intent on pursuing the machine gunner who had harassed their crossing of the canal. The patrol had entered the house from which they had thought the shooting had come, but found the Germans had exited through the back door as they entered the front. They then pursued into the house next door and again found it empty. George Price was fatally shot in the chest by a German sniper as he stepped out of the house into the street, against contrary advice from a house occupant, at 10:58 a.m., November 11, 1918. He died just 2 minutes before the armistice ceasefire, that ended the war, came into effect at 11 a.m. 

That's some serious dedication to duty. That's why Armistice Day is still worth remembering. No poppies around here but that doesn't mean one has to forget.