In February I moved to a new residence, trading my ample garage space for a villa on the beach. After wiping out on the street car tracks on Eastlake, I was fed up with the Frankenstella and left her at my friend's house on Capitol Hill. I wasn't in the mood to relocate her to my new place, braving the Alaskan Way viaduct on a scooter that I couldn't keep upright. At least not until the weather cleared up. So Celeste shivered under her tarp for the better part of two months.

Then all of a sudden, spring! So Jett accompanied me across town to liberate the Frankenstella from her winter cover and bring the poor girl home.

The Frankenstella has needed new tires forever. The Zippy 3's she was wearing had decent tread, but they were really old and most of the time I felt like I was riding on wet glass. Before I took ownership of her, she sat in storage for years. The result was petrified tires that looked fine but were hard, cracked, and decidedly un-sticky.

I couldn't afford new tires and the inevitable labor charge of having them mounted since I was without a garage. I complained liberally to Jett. With superhero cape flying, she volunteered two tires, a garage, hydrolic lift, and a husband.

Jett's Fireball Stella came with two spare Zippy 3's which she wasn't currently using. Her hubby Russ had recently changed the tires on the Fireball, so he was up for showing the two of us how to do it. I saw the perfect opportunity for a meaty how-to article, and Jett charged up her new video camera. Russ even wore his Stella shirt for the occasion. The visuals and details are forthcoming. But suffice it to say, the Frankenstella is now a whole new scooter!

It's funny (but not ha-ha funny) to think this whole time it may have been the tires. I mean, that scooter was just NOT FUN to ride most of the time. Especially after dumping her numerous times, I'd totally lost trust in her. Riding on eggshells. After slapping on the new tires, she rides like an absolute dream. I hesitantly took her out of Jett's garage and onto the street, and then got so excited that I proceeded to drag race down California Ave., a Chesire cat grin plastered across my face.

The new rubber and rekindled trust comes at a good time; the GTS is having a full electrical meltdown and is totally malfunctioning. Apparently, the brakes and ignition wires are crossed. More on that after I take her in to the shop tomorrow, assuming she does not spontaneously combust.

At least they take turns breaking down, right?

In the meantime, Celeste and I are heading out to soak up this sunshine on two new wheels!

I love Celeste, okay?!

{ photo by Vu, taken during the Westenders Operation: Flapjack ride on Sunday. }

I came across these sheets while cleaning out my garage and thought I'd share the wealth. If you are in need of the diagrams and directions for the installation of the full chrome kit for your P-series Vespa or Stella, here you go. The directions include the front rack, rear rack, fender guard, crash bars and cowl protectors. You can click the images to view a larger version, or download the chrome accessories installation directions in 400dpi PDF format for easy printing. It's a poorly-translated, scantily illustrated document, but hey -- the price is right.

accessories installation PDF

I am vigilant about monitoring my road surfaces in the city, and I have mental checklists for known dangers. For example, I am particularly wary on garbage day, as the sanitation vehicles are famous for leaving puddles of unidentifiable goo in the street. Gas stations are also an excellent place to pick up oil on your shoes or tires, which you may not notice until you stop at a light and find your feet zinging out from under you.

But random oil slicks bandied across two lanes of traffic are not normally on my red alert list. So on my way to work Tuesday morning, the dark oily rainbow registered in my brain at the same time that I realized the Frankenstella and I were going down.

This great shot was taken from the back of the Frankenstella during the Westender's Great Ghost and Grub Ride. It features Nate's pimped out Vespa GTS, which runs on rocket fuel, and my very large teeth.

The image was captured by my cupcake, Viva. There's lots more Frankenstella action on her awesome ScooterLust Flickr Photostream.

Roger Tango and me at the VCOS meeting, trying to out-bling each other.

Celeste the Frankenstella is now running like a dream, and looks like one, too. So I've been riding her exclusively for a few weeks. Partly because starting her up is a consolation prize for the crappy weather, partly because I didn't get to ride her last fall, and partly because the GTS is due for 3,000 mile service with nearly 4,000 miles on the odometer.

Two weekends ago we had actual Certified Sunshine™, so I jumped in and finished the remaining details (glovebox, turn signals, etc.). Then I spent two hours with a toothbrush and a bucket of hot water detailing the scooter. It was wonderfully obsessive, and reminded me of the Harley guys I would see hunched over their bikes for hours, dabbing at miles of chrome with a fistful of cloth diapers. I washed and waxed her, buffed her up, and glossed all her shiny parts until you could apply lipstick in the crashbars.

For a few months now, I've been searching for tassels for my handlebars. Ever since the 5th grade, when Susie Morgan had pink sparkly handgrips on her banana seat bike and I didn't, I've had tassel envy. Now that I'm (in theory) an adult, I decided I would once and for all end the decades of pining by finding my very own handgrip decor.

A few months ago I foolishly left Aphrodite, my Vespa GTS, outside in the driveway overnight - a moment of laziness proving to be both expensive and time-consuming. The GTS took an ill-fated tumble into the rock wall outside my apartment, cracking the new Faco mid-size windscreen in half.

I wasn't in a rush to replace the windscreen over the summer as I mainly use it to deflect rain. But I did find that long trips on I5 lacked their usual comfort; the day after a lengthy journey on the highway, my neck and shoulders ached from absorbing the sustained wind pressure of 75 m.p.h.

I wondered if motorcycle riders experienced a similar discomfort, especially since they tend to spend longer periods of time at higher speeds. Then I realized it's likely the upright seated position of the scooterist that makes us less aerodynamic and therefore more prone to wind drag. And maybe I would build up muscles in my neck that I don't presently have. (And maybe I should get a full-face helmet that doesn't scoop up the wind like a sail, so I must tighten my chin strap lest it fly off my head at high speeds.)

In any case, with the impending Seattle rainy season (September through July) upon us, I realized it was time to admit the windscreen dilemma must be solved or I was destined to continue showing up for work like a drowned rat.

I got pulled over by the cops last night, NYPD Blue-style.

I've only been pulled over once - when I was sixteen. It's funny, how it happened last night, because I thought I was getting out of the way so they could pursue the real criminal who had triggered those flashing lights and sirens. Oh - that would be me?

Occasionally I find myself poring over the scooter classifieds for some ungodly reason; perhaps I like to torture myself. I enjoy trying on different personalities as I imagine acquiring each lustworthy scooter. My outdoorsy, rugged Pacific Northwest alter-ego on a Big Ruckus loaded with gear for a weekend getaway. Or the meticulously restored, pink and white 1962 Vespa Super that I ride to my ladies' luncheon at an outdoor cafe. Or the venom yellow rat bike Rally perfect for drag racing in my black Corazzo hoodie.

I enjoy accessorizing.

Both of my Cupcakes are toying with the idea of getting their very own two wheels. As fabulous as it is to ride pillion on Aphrodite, sooner or later, everyone gets bit by the scooter bug. I indulge my vicarious thrills by shopping for them.

Maybe it's the Vespa paraphernalia plastered all over my cubicle at work, or the helmet on my desk, or my close encounters with coworkers in the parking garage. It could even be the fact that I frequently arrive in the morning soaking wet. But everyone at my day job knows I'm way into scooters.

If I come in on Monday with a sunburned nose, they ask if I rode a lot over the weekend. After stopping for gas on the way in, they tell me they were considering a scooter. People I've never met stop by to ask for my advice on the feasibility of commuting on two wheels. "I heard you're the Scooter Girl," they say in a hushed tone. "Can you hook me up with the 411?"

I heartily endorse the acquisition of a scooter, and I intersperse every sentence with, "Take the safety course." If it's your first scooter, get an automatic. Take the safety course. Parking can be much easier on a scooter. Take the safety course. I'd recommend a 150cc if you live in the 'burbs. Take the safety course. Oh, and - take the safety course.