What does normal feel like? (Scott)

I bought my PX125 unseen off eBay, on a complete whim. Sometimes I push my luck, but it's lovely when it pays off. When I saw little X159XAL for the first time, I was stoked. However the drive up to pick it up I was actually feeling sick with worry.

When I pressed the 'make an offer' button, I realised I had no idea on what a PX should feel like, and how to tell if it was sorted or not. I was lucky, by the condition of the scooter I knew that the silver beast had a very pampered 4300 miles in the last 11 years. My first ride was very interesting, my knowledge gathered from YouTube videos like http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EkSVMU4D_sw (Joanie calls it scooter porn) and talking to Tim. The second-hand knowledge gathered obviously did the trick and my first ride was fun, no wheelies, and not many bunny hops. I still only know what my Vespa feels like, and is it right? I have limited mechanical skills, and we are going on a 1000 mile trip on strict transport deadlines. Hence my concern.

To add to my worries, the scooter has had some modifications too, the eBay description was:

"PX125 very low mileage, fitted with Malossi 166 kit, with T5 carb and uprated clutch and gearing changed for cruising, fitted and tuned by Diablo moto in Nuneaton, last year, performance stainless Scorpion exhaust, michelin S1 tyres (new) and 2 used VERY good tyres for spares ( not on rims), comes with spare wheel and working electric start., Small dent on front mudguard"

So, what does the Malossi do? What are it's drawbacks? (I haven't broken 60mpg yet, but it has amazing pickup at high revs, even with a 100kg of downforce from the saddle), the Scorpion exhaust, is it any good (On a PX150 gives an 8% power increase on a dyno, but at what cost? Low mpg again?) It sounds loud, and pops and crackles like a dirt-track racer when engine braking (sounds awesome IMHO), but I had to ask Tim when he was in London if it was as loud as his, which has a 200cc lump, and he was unsure, until he got home and did the same revving I did. MIne was louder. Uprated clutch? But the bite is quite soft, this feels way different to the CBT bike I had, and will it last 1000 miles dragging me about? Especially after some fists-of-ham riding round central London for the past 600 miles. T5 Carb? It's an old carb off a different engine, uprated how? The T5 was a standard 125cc scoot but more powerful than a normal PX. Gearing changed for cruising? No idea what this means, it seems to like 40-45-odd mph. What does a normal PX gear box feel like? 

So many questions, I had planned to do the maintenance and servicing myself on the beast, but I am very glad that I got it serviced a couple of weeks ago, at least I know that someone who has touched multiple PXs had had a crack at it. I still worry, all those panicky clutch slips in London traffic when I forget to move it down to first at the lights, and stall it. The clunky gearbox, the effort it takes to change gear, and many other things.

I think it is just me being a nervous Nellie, all the modifications were done professionally, the previous owner was an enthusiast,  and it has given me great performance so far, give or take the poor fuel economy. A lot of the websites reckon 80mpg, but nowhere near that for me. There is always a pay off with any form of performance modifications, and then with a porky bluff fronted rider, in stop-start awful traffic to the West End, and for the extra acceleration, it's probably a fine pay off. I rode next to a stock PX125 last week, and it was considerably quieter, but the noise adds character I think, and I especially like the way the scooter takes off when it passes half throttle, it's awesome.

I am getting nervous about the trip, and just fretting away. It never hurts to be wary of these things. When I'm at a bike stand with another PX in it, I look around furtively then sneak over to it and squeeze their clutch and brake levers, just to check they are like mine. And they feel similar. I just feel like a weirdo when I do it!

The latest update on equipment. My helmet (a Box BX1) always fogs up, which means riding with the visor cracked open, which is fine around London, in sub 30 minute journeys, but 6 hours on the trot may get tiresome, so Tony from Harry Nash recommended an Oxford Anti Fog liner for the visor, which works well, but the application was a pain, and the sides didn't stick properly. However being able to exhale makes for much better riding. I give it 6.5/10.

Silly boys scooter adventures and marital harmony needn't be mutually exclusive - Unless I have anything to do with it (Scott)

[Good Wife... Bad Husband]

It was never going to end well. And it didn't.
Long ago when I first mooted this idea to my lovely wife, Joanie thought I was talking rubbish. I have a lot of half-witted ideas that never come to fruition, which I think she thought this was one of them.
Then I got the Vespa, I saw alarm bells in her eyes, oh well everything will be OK. She originally suggested a scooter to minimise my commute to central London since we moved to suburbia, so I took this as a green light to buy a scooter and do what-ever-I-bloody-well-like on it. I underestimated this green light by just about completely. Oh dear. Joanie had calmly and rationally explained that driving across Europe after having just bought an 11 year old example of a notoriously unreliable 40 year old design, after only about 500 miles in the saddle, with two young kids at home, that I'm self employed and thats 4 non-earning days extra, riding on the wrong side of the road, dealing with Italy's special approach to traffic safety. Was indeed slightly foolish. I'm paraphrasing here. It was actually 'I don't want you to go'.
So being the caring, sharing, new age guy I am I chose to ignore this polite request. Something I now wish I had chosen to explain why I wanted to do this, and justified it until Joanie gave in to shut me up. But I didn't. I am a fool, and a terrible husband. When Tim said that we have to book now, I said "that's fine". Tim said it's non-refundable, I said "I'll just check with Joanie". Actually I didn't. Instead, like a complete arse I said "that's fine". I now see the error in my ways.
Also for the record I would like to say that thinking Joanie wouldn't read this blog, and I would have time to broach the subject gently was also stupid. I emailed the link to my family in New Zealand, and my sister replied with one of her pithy comments, and cc:d Joanie in. D'oh. I admire Joanie for not telling me she had seen the blog and merely stored it up as ammunition for later. I have taught her well!
So to cut a long story short, when I got knocked off the scooter, and still in shock, and not thinking straight. I told Joanie about the crash. She said, "well that stops the Silly Boys Scooter to Sestri Adventure™ then", I said "Of course, you are correct my love. It was a silly idea anyway", except I didn't. The power of hindsight is amazing. Instead (like an eijit) I said "No, I have to go, I've paid already, and it's non-refundable" I still blame the shock. But I have a sneaking suspicion that it's because I'm more than a little bit of a dick.
So to my lovely and long suffering wife, I take this opportunity, publicly, on a rather esoteric blog, to whole-heartedly apologise for being a terrible husband. I would also like to thank you for putting up with me, and resigning yourself to the fact that I'm going on this silly trip. You are one of a kind.
There is a moral to this story/grovelling apology if you are planning an adventure across a large distance on some dodgy Italian engineering, tell you significant other everything. Or you will get rumbled, and you will feel awful about it. End of moral. Back to scootering.

Should we train for this trip? (Tim)

It occurred to me last night as I walked in the rain and darkness, I've never ridden my scooter at night time nor in lashing rain.
Our trip to Italy has a number of fixed deadlines (trains, ferries etc) so we are not going to have any choice about the conditions we ride in - I'm having a bit of a worry now about running late in Germany and having to ride in the dark, in the rain and on the other side of the road!
I wonder if I should get some practice in? Its probably not wise to practice riding on the other side of the road til we get there, but maybe I should do some night riding before we set off, if only to see if my headlight works.
How do you keep your helmet visor clear while you're riding in lashing rain?
Of course it might just be easier to put a cosmic order out for sunny weather and no delays

28 days to go

Blimey its only 4 weeks to go now til we set off on this trip and weve done pretty well NO preparation.
I'm usually quite cool about these things but judging by the dreams I was having last night about bits falling off scooters and near miss accidents accidents, things are clearly starting to play on my mind.

I think I might give my brakes a service this weekend

Vespa + Transit luton van + Driver not looking properly = Surprised Kiwi (who was very grateful for Kevlar body armour) sliding down the Hammersmith Road (Scott)

A wise man once said it's not if you have a motorcycle accident, it's when. To cut a long story short, it was a warm day, good visibility, I was properly attired, the scooter was at it's noisy best. I was passing Blythe Road off Hammersmith Road at a stately 20mph or so (3rd gear at least) when I saw a luton van move forward, looking to turn across my lane to where I had come from. Tense up, hold breath, ready to brake, as a cyclist, everybody is dangerous. See him stop. exhale breath and continue on looking towards the next junction and all the other potential hazards. Next thing I see in the corner of my visor, a van windscreen, then heard a bang, and before I even had a chance to swear, I was on my left hand side sliding down the road with the scooter in front of me, and the unhappy sound of wafer-thin Italian steel crunching and scraping.

It all happened so fast, I'm not sure of the exact order, I didn't see my life flash before my eyes, I just thought this is it. Bloody hell. After what felt an eternity of sliding (approx 5 or 6 feet in actuality) I'm lying in the road not sure of what to do next. Rush of adrenalin. Fuck! I'm lying in the middle of Hammersmith road, alive, seemingly unharmed and now if I don't get up sharpish I'm going to get run over by someone else. So in a quite unusual fit of athleticism, I was up, saw the stalled Vespa on it's side, and hobbled, after checking for cars, to the far kerb. To the pub to be precise. As I was getting up I heard the van driver apologising to me, I even managed to point out that his lack of observance had indeed ruined my day, and a few other words to that effect.

Quick stocktake.
1 x Sore Leg. All moving just felt sprained
1 x Heartbeat running at twice normal speed
1 x Scooter lying in road.
1 x London arterial road stopped in both directions (never happens)
1 x I'm not dead.
1 x big bloody hole in my jacket elbow
1 x pair of water proof trousers ripped and holed
1 x no blood or anything

Off with helmet, and gloves on pub table, and see a couple of people going over to move the scooter out of the road, I was quite shaken up and my phone was inside my jacket, so no pics. It was in gear, and tricky to move if you don't know Vespas, so I hobble off with them to move it to the kerb.

Everything then speeds up again, I can't for the life of me think what happens next. No idea. I double check the van is still there, and sit down. I still can't come to any lucid thoughts, when I worry about me momentarily, and ask if my head hit the ground, for concussion, and it didn't apparently (Big shoulders have some use.) Then insurance pops into my head. This was slightly flawed as I couldn't remember my broker's name. This was pointless as I only had third party. Anyway, I finally got sense and shouted 'Details' at Barry the at-fault van driver. Barry looked at me blankly. I got a pen out of my pocket, and thrust it towards him, then went for my iPhone expecting glass everywhere, but it was all fine, so photographed the van, the location and the scooter. Still shaking. Barry comes back. 'I can't remember my insurance broker's name, it's a new company. Alarm bells go off in my head, and the shock has gone I am back to normal. Brain instantly in gear. Right Bazza, show me some ID. No ID on him. Alarm bells in my head replaced by air-raid siren. Walk to his van, take a look at the front. 1 x cracked number plate. Grrr. Photo. Sneakily took a photo of Barry. He was being very good, and very apologetic. I then Google mapped his post code to make sure they matched up, and rang his mobile number on the paper with his details on, he pulls two phones out of his pocket, Air-raid siren and alarm bells going off together, dodgy geezer alert. Saw his van actually had a road tax disc, and in the UK, you can't get road tax without insurance, so was slightly relieved, took photo of tax disc, and he hadn't taken the Chiswick Van Hire stickers off from when he bought it, so wrote that down, he even said that he had bought it only three months ago and I could phone them to check it out. All of that I was quite amazed, as I was in a state of shock, and I remembered most things. There was a witness also who was making sure I was OK, so I got his details as well. Then everybody went away, and I noticed that my witness then hopped in the van with Barry. D'oh. Didn't see that.

Anyway, there I was sitting alone outside a pub with a dented scooter (2 x dented rear cowls, from leg shield scratched, and chrome strip ruined, and the front mudguard was also munched up and wonky) a mild case of shock. And wondered what to do next. So I cancelled my next client. Then phoned Tim to ask him if he knew my brokers name. You may notice Joanie hasn't appeared on this list yet. I wanted to feel a bit more normal before I called her as she is a natural worrier. Then I pulled out my laptop from my backpack. No broken screen, bloody amazing… I should be in the next MacBook Pro ad! What to do next. Spot double yellows under the Vespa, all I need is for one of these automated ticket givers snapping me, luckily De Agostini, a client with a private car park was about 750m down the road. So hop up and limp to scooter. Try to start the motor, and fires, and is all OK. KIll motor and twist front guard away from wheel, and start to push. Leg hurts, more. Sit down and ponder options, call RAC, does it cover scooters? Call Joanie? Won't get it in car. Call De Agostini and see if someone can push it for me? Then I thought I should try to ride it. Get back on the horse and all that. Fire her up again, and after checking my blind spot 4 times take off very slowly along the road.

Luckily the bus lanes were out of restricted hours so I could travel kerb-side, and that was the longest 750m in my life! Finally got to De Ag drove down the side of the building and parked up, and had the sudden major desire to sit down on a couch, so hobbled into the building, still in full, slightly ragged attire. Went into office, took off bike gear and sat down with a can of Coke. Sat there for quite a while. Then phoned Joanie. I was still in shock so was probably none too lucid. Then Tim called back, and then went to my desk and did some work. Quite bizarre. Though apparently I wasn't quite myself, but pleased to have something to take my mind off it. One of my colleague Bradley is an ex-scooter rider, after two written off scooters, one from a slide on oil, and one from t-boning a moron doing a u-turn from a stopped line of traffic without indicating or looking, offered me a lift home as he lives further past Petersham in Esher, which was gratefully accepted.

Now the strange stuff started to happen, we got in the car pulled out on the road, next thing there was a motorbike, seemingly from nowhere appeared at the front drivers side. I got all panicky like Bradley hadn't seen him (he had). Then round Hammersmith one-way system we got cut-up by a moron. This happens every time on this road, so it isn't unusual, but Bradley caught me braking using the imaginary pedals in the passenger footwell! I was quite jumpy. Which is very unlike me. When I eventually got home, I was quite relieved. My leg hurt (I had terrible nights sleep), but luckily Barry had phoned with his insurers details, which was a major relief. The next day I intended to take the scooter to ScooterWorld to get a quote for fixing it up, so took my riding coat and the other bits were still at De Agostini, so headed to the bus, with a very sore leg. By lunch time, I decided that an A&E visit would be in order, as my leg wasn't feeling any better, and also a good delaying tactic not to get on the scooter! So 4 hours at Charing Cross Hospital in Hammersmith (though I must say the receptionist, Orthopaedic doctor and radiographer were all awesome, and considering the flotsam and jetsam of West London in the waiting room, I was amazed at their good humour!) I had a couple of Xrays and nothing was broken, so I was was happy, and the doctor said I didn't even need to strap it up, which is great as I am flying to NZ on Tuesday.

So that was was late Weds, so I went home on the tube and bus, and went back to De Ag on Thurs. Today my back and shoulder hurt as well. I had two calls in Chelsea to make, both miles from the tube station, so I decided that this was it, get back on it and stop being soft. As I walked down the drive I felt physically sick. And I was about to ride past ground zero in 3 minutes. I passed Robin, another scooterist, who wished me luck, which was nice, and I knew I had an audience which didn't hurt. Unshackled and started up the beast, still sickly. Rode down the drive, and got to the road. It was empty so took off gingerly and carefully, lucky not much traffic. Passed the accident spot and then felt alright again. Jumpy, and too quick on the brakes, but OK, it was nice to be back in the saddle, picked up the keys for the next job and rode there, all through busy South Ken and Knightsbridge and it was great.

[huge sigh of relief considering I am still going to Italy!]

I took the Vespa to Ahmed at ScooterWorld (www.scooterworld.co.uk) who went through the options for the Scooter. Barry enquired about an off the record fix, and it would come to about £360 including VAT for the fix and £130 for the ruined jacket. If it was an insurance job, it would be written off, and I would then have to buy it back and then get it fixed. I just want the bloody thing fixed and back to lovely again (including fixing the rust on the front guard) so gave Barry the options, so it looks like it's a fixer upper.

I went to Max's school book night on the way home, and was running late for a change so had to park at the school, so Max was running about with my helmet on, and then I gave some of his classmates rides up and down the footpath of our cul-de-sac, the kids loved it, and so did I. Did 40miles on Friday, 15 on the A40 at 50 MPH. I do love the noisy little blighter. Italy here we come.

Updates as they happen, and happy scooting. And lets be careful out there. No other bugger seems to be.

Dented Morale (Tim)

A long, long time ago (30 years, 2 and a half months ago to be precise) when I was just 18 and having only recently passed my driving test, i had a car accident.

Many years before that (perhaps another 30 or so) my dad, as a young lad also had an accident (actually I think he had a few) - but in his case, he was riding a scooter - A Lambretta LD150 to be precise (not for no reason is he rebuilding one of these 50 years later)  Those tumbles off his scooter were enough to give him the resolve to ensure no child of his was ever going to have a motorbike, and craftily he went about designing my own youth in such a way that motorbikes never came onto my horizon.
With plenty of fatherly encouragement I bought my first car when I was 16 - a 1967 Renault 4 TL - If i remember correctly, I paid about 60 quid for it (and that included delivery to my home).
Although it was running, It was in a very sorry state and so began a 2 year project (that came to be known as the “Renaultvation”) orchestrated by my father as a way to keep me occupied while the ‘motorbike phase’ passed me by. 
I (and he) dedicated all spare time to that car.  Together we stripped and rebuilt every single component, from floor pans to piston bores, door posts to dynamos.  I can genuinely say I touched every single nut and bolt on that car.
A project as long and intensive as this built a very special bond between, not only, me and my dad, but me and my car.  I loved that car.

The ‘Renaultvation’ had been on the road for 6 months, and as I set off for college on that fateful frosty morning of Tuesday 16th December 1980, I was glad to be in my warm car and not on a chilly motorbike.  As I pulled out of our sleepy village and rounded a corner, I hit a patch of ice.  I remember veering heavily to one side of the road, and I remember worrying about scratching the paint on my new front wings, and I remember a lot of noise........
The next thing I remember, I was halfway walked back to my house - and I was swearing - a lot.  I explained to my mum that I had crashed the car (but I had no recollection to the extent of the damage.  In fact I still have no recollection to this day of the the crash itself or how I got out of it).  We phoned dad who decided to come straight home from work.

It wasnt until a little later that morning when I returned to the crash site with dad that I saw the full extent of the damage to my car.  From the imprints of the sides of the car in the frosty grass we could see that the car had turned arse about face and done a complete roll over - the roof and wings were squashed over one way and the rear wheels squashed under the other way, the bonnet ripped off and doors all distorted out shape.  I have no idea how I got out of the car (but I do know I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt in those days) or the field that I had rolled into
I saw my car and I cried.  I was shaken and shocked by the experience, and I was so bitterly saddened to see the love of my life so battered.

and so the point of this story?
At the same moment, Dad saw my car and simply said “Ok, lets tow it back home and get started on repairing it” - As I remember it, there was no panic, no anger, no hesitation in his voice.  I remember being both surprised and comforted by his calm response. 
It wasn’t until a long time after that I realised how important that moment was.  I was in total despair but dad had just the right words to make me believe it would be alright.  They made all the difference between giving up and getting up.
I got up. We hitched the car up to his car and gingerly towed it back home - and there and then started another 4 months of renovation of the Renaultvation during which time we removed all the body (again) and pushed and pulled, stretched and shrunk the metal work back into some recognisable shape again. I was back on the road by summer :-)

Epilogue
That little Renault 4 never did become the custom show car I had originally dreamed it would be.  It lived on for many years after as a wrinkly fun car that made people smile where-ever it went.  I never loved it any less for being not-so-perfect, In fact I think I loved it all the more for the character that my accident had created (in me and my car)
I loved that car

Bringing the story up to date.  I was sitting in a coffee shop with Laurie today when I got a call from Scotty.  “Ive just been knocked off my bike” he said - There was a shaky mix of shock and I’m-alright in his voice.  “I’ve scratched and dented up my lovely scooter”
I was taken right back to that moment of my own accident in a vehicle that I loved; shaken, gutted, and dazed, and I wished I could have been as comforting to Scott as dad had been to me.
I think it had only been within the hour that he’d had the accident and I wasn’t quite able to keep up with Scotts trembling recount of the details.  He was clearly all in one piece, but clearly quite shaken.
Having established that he was not seriously injured, how could I help?  What words are right at that moment?  What actions?  We shall have to see over the next few days how Scotts bruises and confidence develop.
I hope he recovers well..... and secretly I hope he doesnt regret (or blame me for encouraging him) buying his scooter.
Maybe I might be seeing another Vespa in the garage soon - I’ll get my hammers ready - its what my dad would do.

Whatever the weather (Tim)

Thanks to Hugh for the heads up on some reasonably priced thermal wear.
I was up early to pop over to our local Aldi supermarket, where I was delighted to get some proper motorcycle trousers (up until now Ive been wearing jeans and sometimes some camouflage overtrousers - which look a bit rubbish and the jeans are just too thin to wear in this very chilly weather)
So this is what I bought;
motorcycle trousers (thermal, waterproof and armoured) - £30
Compression thermal top and legs - £16
10mm welded chain and lock - £10
rain/dust cover for the scooter - i wondered if it would be useful when out and about on rainy days - i dont fancy having to climb back onto a soaking wet seat - £8

I thought these seemed like jolly good value for money, but I cant help wondering what I might have gained if I'd have bought similar stuff from a motorcycle store for 2 or 3 times the price?

I also bought a neck tube for £5 - but its pretty rubbish - i think ill take it back.  And accidentally i picked up a pair of wind cheater trousers instead of top (£10) - again i will swap these

So I now feel much more weather prepared.  Though I would like to think that when we get to Italy we can ditch all this bulky stuff and cruise around in the sunshine in sharp Italian suits (or as hugh suggests, harrington jackets)

5 weeks to go! :-)