After The Storm

Many years ago, eighteen to be precise, my wife and I found ourselves going to the movies one night. We left the dogs on the boat in the marina after a very long walk, and picked up a cab at the gates for the drive round the waterfront to the more upscale side of town where we found a shopping mall with a theater. I forget the title of the movie but it was some Hollywood production, in English with Spanish subtitles as they rarely seem to dub movies in Mexico. Halfway through the film the projector stopped, the lights came up and we had an obligatory intermission when people could buy candy and catch up on missing plot lines. It was rather charming.

 Leaving San Diego October 1998, Baha Ha Ha VI Rally. Gemini 105 catamaran hull #529

After the movie ended we stretched and got up out of armchairs and waded through a  sea of wrappers and popcorn containers to the exits and then we realized once again we were back in Mexico, more precisely Acapulco and we had thousands of miles yet to travel before we reach Key West. Damn! For a moment there we had been transported back to the US in the dark, back to he familiar, the easy and the known. And it wasn't that we weren't enjoying the journey necessarily, we just wanted a break from the daily grind of living in a foreign culture.

Panama Canal, Miraflores Lake, Emma and Debs wishing they were ashore August 1999

These days I feel like that a lot of the time. I wish I could wake up and walk away from this culture of torn up trees and quirky electricity and boil water orders and so forth. You can't make the argument that any of this is fun, but like choosing to go sailing with your family, choosing to live in the hurricane belt with your family is up to you. And even so there are good bits to being caught up in a Category Four storm,

At anchor in the wild and lonely Pacific Coast islands of Panama, of our favorite cruising grounds. 1999

To get to live through a major hurricane is an event in one's life that some people crave. They want bragging rights which I find odd. I knew before Irma showed up that despite leveling an entire Third World island that lacked building codes like ours (and ours could be a lot stricter!) only one person among 1800 died on Barbuda. The chances of my dying seemed remote, especially to someone who defies death every day by commuting by motorcycle. The thing is, the adrenaline rush passes, the survival of the event transforms into the survival of the drudgery that follows, and it is a drudge to survive after the storm has gone.

Now it is endless clean up, removing debris, filing paperwork, talking to adjusters, waiting for electricity, flushing toilets by hand and so forth. And just like in a Acapulco that warm tropical night two decades ago I would like to be transported away, even if for just a little while to a place where the grass is green and tree have leaves and no one is surprised to see running tap water or menus outside open restaurants. This is the part about the storm that people elsewhere don't understand. You don't die in hurricanes you just get fed up and bored and angry. You just want the damned electric lights to work and keep working. This is how for the past two weeks we entered and left our street. Had we needed an ambulance or fire truck it would have been curtains. As it was we all drove through our neighbor's yard to get in and out:

Just room enough for a sedan or a pick up truck thanks to the efforts of my neighbor Jose who propped the wires up on cross beams of his invention, no thanks to Keys Energy for their lack of help:

I am sure you are tired of hearing about the daily drudgery but my world has shrunk. For a week I was happy to forget the name of the President, Governor Rick Scott did outstanding work organizing relief and being a presence to remind everyone help for us was important to him and I am grateful. This storm has changed me. I am not willing to assume that there will be no more hurricanes. I know there will be more and this circus will be repeated. I cannot take for granted water or electricity or phone service after the abysmal collapse of everything civilized following Irma. My expectations are low. We have electricity now but tomorrow who knows? I came across friend steam cleaning his garage of mud with an electric appliance. I turned to my wife and said: "They til have electricity" as though it could have been in doubt. I keep doubting.

A group of Latter Day Saints came by a friend's wrecked house and put order inside and out in a couple of hours. She couldn't believe it. One woman said she flew to Miami from San Francisco the day before and there she was with her family of all ages tearing it up. It was a hell of thing and saved Kathy a bunch of grief and despair. Better change our stereotypes of the Mormons I guess. There is kindness in the midst of wreckage.

After it all goes into the history books I will be left with a vaguely unsatisfactory feeling that even when I know what to expect I still fail to measure up to my own standards. Hurricanes  get you like that, you never what exactly they will end up doing even if you yourself know the sequence of emotions that go through your mind after the storms have blown away. And still I'd rather be two hundred miles away in a green and pleasant land they used to call Florida - the flowery state.

Rusty The Refugee

Leaving Rusty during the month of July to be with my family in Italy was hard enough but then came Irma. Through hurricane season the plan at the back of our minds is for my wife the evacuate as soon as schools close. Sometimes in a low category storm if  she feels confident and has a reliable friend staying at home my wife will join them always with the dog. In this case there was no doubt evacuation was in order. She went early, leaving at 6am on the Wednesday beforethe storm and she got to Pensacola well before the chaos that followed as much of Florida evacuated on Thursday and Friday. Then she went to see another college friend in Birmingham, Alabama, before ending up with a third friend in Asheville followed by a visit with her sister who was working in Marion, North Carolina. Then she turned around and came south stopping with yet another friend in Palm Beach before coming home. And more importantly bringing the little prince safely back. And along the way as I pined I got these postcards:

 Fellow refugees Chuck and Wayne met up with Layne at Therese's house in Pensacola for mutual commiseration.

The fine clean sand of the Florida panhandle:

He found evacuating stressful and did a lot of sleeping

Vespa In A Post Apocalyptic World

"What?" my neighbor said to me as he watched me get on 2008 Vespa S150 for the 25 mile ride back to Key West."You riding that moped on these streets?" He had a point things were a bit rough right after Irma landed. And in Key West where everyone rides 50cc scooters  a 60 mph 150 is indistinguishable from a 35 mph model. 

So how is a Vespa as a survival tool when civilization teeters on the brink?  In normal times I use the scooter to commute on the Overseas Highway where it's perfect. Speed limits vary between 45 and 55 mph and the Vespa allows me to keep up with the normal flow of traffic. With the wind at my back the 150 cc motor sends me down the flat straight road at up 65 mph (showing 70 on the speedo). It does not allow me to get into trouble by passing or speeding in the carefree manner my motorcycle allowed me to. My Bonneville got trashed by salt water and it does not look likely to be a survivor and with two Vespas at my disposal it doesn't look like I'll be replacing it in this phase of my life.

The Vespa is known for its metal body and sturdy construction and its load carrying ability. On my rides checking neighborhoods after the Category Four storm ravaged the Keys I came across all manner of things, including these pallets on Sugarloaf Key. The National Guard dropped off supplies for survivors and I easily loaded a box of MREs onto the seat.

 My MRE carrier:

Fuel: I found that riding at 50 mph indicated (45mph actual) I saved a ton of gas. The fuel gauge on on the S150  is quite accurate so it encouraged me to keep my speed down. Quite aside from the objects laying around on the roadways in the early days. I should have filled a five gallon jug before the storm but I was stupid and forgot. I know better...

So I had to round up some jugs find a gas station that was open and be very careful about how much I burned. This is a big issue for a scooter as survival tool. I could have used a front rack on the Vespa with a one or two gallon jug strapped on just for peace of mind. I did strap a jug on the floor boards but I like to keep that area clear in normal use. 

I always carry a tire repair kit under the seat and flat tires were constantly on my mind. The ease of use of the Vespa, the low weight the open body make it much more suitable than a motorcycle. Then there is the fact that the Bonneville has tubes in the tires. A flat would be truly awkward in these circumstances. 

To a population used to riding around in giant trucks and SUV type vehicles the idea of using a 230 pound scooter to get around in the best of times seems weird. In a crisis those big trucks look so self important with their heavy duty whatnot and then this hairy old hobbit comes rolling by on a moped. Oops!

But the scooter got me where I wanted to go. I did not drive through flooded areas but I dodged downed trees and power lines and I managed gravel and sand just fine. Having experience is decidedly a plus in these types of conditions which can easily tip and inexperienced rider. 

One thing drivers of trucks don't have to worry about is decapitation. Wires down are a serious issue for a rider after a storm and you need to keep a sharp eye out. Wires can come down later even if the road was open previously. This was one of my biggest fears:

The hospital was closed after Irma as there was no running water in Key West, so an injury could be severely inconvenient or fatal. That was always at the forefront of my mind when I was riding or doing anything else. No ambulances no hospital no help. 

Some heavy duty wires were so low down they even kept me out of my street. Luckily these were so thick I had no trouble spotting them and they were there for two weeks:

I even picked up a kid hitch hiking and gave him a 15 mile ride toward Miami. Florida is no helmet law state (for adults) and it was easy enough to pop him on the solo seat for a short ride. The Vespa did sterling work.

So how did my Vespa survive the storm? Well it was small enough to fit in the elevator at work so I took it to the upper floor safe from potential flooding of which we warned by the National Hurricane Center. I wondered who would yell at me for parking in front of the detectives bureau but I guess people had other things on their mind. There were only two dozen of us left to ride out the storm anyway.

Then of course I wondered what I would do if the storm in some way knocked out our elevators. Would my Vespa be stranded upstairs? In stressful times we worry about anything...

The fun factor is always there on two wheels  so if you enjoy riding, getting on the Vespa can be a bit of an escape too. My wife and dog were safely evacuated so I only had  myself to look after which made the Vespa perfect for these two weeks of isolation. I carried little and had no responsibility for others so my single seat ride fit the bill exactly.

The weather channel said this was a non-survivable event in the Florida Keys. When I found their truck stuck with a flat tire I let my feelings be known about the way they rated my chances of survival:

In the end I have to say my decision to keep and use the Vespa as a survival tool was perfect for me. On the other hand I am a confident rider after half a century in the saddle and that makes it easy for me to choose to use a Vespa in circumstances others may think bizarre or risky. Certainly there was an element of risk but I was cautious and took my time and rode slowly. I got where I needed to go.

The more I ride these ultra smooth perfectly reliable modern Vespas the less I miss the two stroke geared  Vespas of my past. These machines go and go and they do it well. 

My orange survival tool.
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I should point out I had a non survivable event shortly after I wrote this piece. My drive belt blew on the road and I had to get help from friends to round up my ailing car and trailer and get the Vespa off the road. I knew before the storm I should have changed the belt as it was nine years old even though the scooter had only run 326 miles when I got it. I changed the tires promptly but the belt...well I wanted to get a few miles out of it.Of course when Irma intervened in my life I was too late to order a new belt and when I locked the other Vespa safely away first... This was the one I had to ride. Yet  I knew I'd be better off riding the Vespa than driving the car and I hoped for no breakdowns. I got away with t till the very end.

Marathon -Irma

I went to Marathon a week ago to check on a  friend's boat

 They did not get the worst winds so like Key West structural damage could have been worse.

 I rode my Vespa down Highway One to Sombrero Road where I wanted to visit the marina but there was a checkpoint so I couldn't gain entry to check the beach.

 Instead I rode down to the high school to check my wife's workplace and found it more or less dry and intact and went back to work hoping for the best.