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.

Rubber Side Down is a post from: Scooter Lust

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

P-series/Stella Chrome Installation is a post from: Scooter Lust

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 briefly employed my Yankee ingenuity in attempt to rig the windscreen I had in storage to fit on the Vespa. It’s a Genuine windshield for the Stella, with the curves in all the wrong places. But I swapped the hardware on the Stella windscreen with the hardware from the broken GTS windscreen, and the design did not translate.

The Vespa windscreen attaches underneath the headset with built-in sockets, while the Stella windscreen attaches externally with additional plates that also hold the mirrors. I was hoping some bending and angling could get the job done, but quickly realized that it was a lost cause.

If you’re trying to decide on a windscreen size, here’s my $.02 (read quickly – with the current economy, it will soon be worth half that). scooter windshields generally come in four sizes:

• Flyscreen. The flyscreen looks very cool and is supermod, especially if you get the black and white checkered one. I can’t imagine it actually does keep the flies off, but I can’t speak from experience.
• Mini/Small. I found this height windscreen on the Stella to be pretty useless. The smoke one, which is tinted a slinky gray, is sharp and pretty, but again, I found it didn’t block the rain and deflected the wind directly into my face. Please keep in mind that I am six feet tall and have very good posture. (Thanks, mom.)
• Mid-size. This size has worked well for me. At my height, the top of the windscreen lines up nicely with the bottom of my helmet’s face shield, deflecting rain off my chest and channeling the wind up and over the top of my head.
• Riot shield. I had one of these on my Elite 250, and it did a fabulous job of creating a windproof tunnel to ride in at high speeds. It also made for a very quiet ride. I did, however, find it impossible to see out of in the rain, especially at night. Both the windscreen and my helmet’s face shield would collect water, and the multitude of drops obscuring my vision and reflecting light all over the place blinded me. Rain-X didn’t help. This is why I settled on the mid-size.

I like to support local business, and there’s some serious eye candy down at Vespa Seattle in both scooter and human form, so I headed down to the showroom on 1st and Denny after work on Friday to see if they had any mid-size windscreens in stock.

After a bit of rummaging, a mid-sized windscreen was unearthed. It was a Vespa model – these are a bit wider than the Faco and shield your hands. I find it a little more obtrusive, but was willing to give it a shot. The only problem was the price tag; at $270, it was $100 more than I wanted to spend. Or needed to spend, given that Scooterworks has the Faco mid-size windscreen for $150 plus shipping (Scooterworks also carries the tall size for the same price). I was told the high cost was because Vespa didn’t actually make mid-size wind screens; the dealership has a guy at Boeing custom cutting the tall ones down for them.

So it was back to the drawing board. Having purchased enough chrome to outfit an army of mods, I know that the shiny stuff is tres expensive. So I figured that a large portion of the price of the windscreen is the chrome hardware. Since the hardware from my broken windscreen is fully functional, it seems I could potentially get a discount for only needing the plastic piece. When I received the first windscreen, the hardware was wrapped separately from the plastic, so it’s not like it’s all pre-packaged together in a kit. I decided to call Scooterworks and see if I could just get the plastic. I can’t be the only person on the planet to need a replacement.

The gentleman on the phone didn’t seem to catch my drift; he kept telling me that I didn’t have to use the hardware if I didn’t need it. When he finally understood that I was seeking a discounted rate for purchasing only half the product, he said, “Oh I don’t think we do that.” I paused, waiting for him to offer to find out. When he didn’t, I said, “Can you find out?”

He put me on hold with audible foot-dragging. I imagined him just sitting there watching the clock while I was waiting. I was surprised by this exchange because I’ve always found the folks at Scooterworks extremely helpful, and while they don’t necessarily need to honor my request, they could at least humor me.
Big shocker: they wouldn’t sell me just the plastic. Reason unknown.

One other option that I decided not to pursue was a trip to my neighborhood Tap Plastics. It’s quite feasible that they could custom cut me a piece of polycarbonate to match the broken one, but I can’t imagine this being cheaper than ordering a new one and it would certainly require more time and work than I’m willing to invest right now.

Back online at Scooterworks, I noticed they also have a Prima mid-sized windscreen that’s only $109. Their description says it’s “super high quality”. I decided to go with that one. Chrome and rubber hardware is chrome and rubber hardware, and I can’t exactly say the Faco was “super high quality” given that it didn’t withstand its first – and only – blow.

The new windscreen ships today. In the meantime, I’ll cross my fingers that trips to West Seattle will not involve rain. Of course, there’s always that Stella windscreen for Celeste, and since I’ve been riding her almost exclusively, it might be worth dragging out the Yankee ingenuity again and re-assembling it.

Windy City Blues is a post from: Scooter Lust

Cities need to start looking for places to tuck scooter-friendly parking spots where cars can’t fit. Then nobody loses. Cars have all their allotted spaces, and scooters are making good use of real estate that would otherwise be wasted. I’ve never heard a scooterist complain about being given the leftovers – we’re usually thrilled just to have a safe place to stow our scoots.

This space I found in the QFC parking lot on 15th is a perfect example. I’m not sure what it’s intended for, but it’s a perfect scooter spot with little barriers and everything!

The other place that would be good to sneak scooter spots are the sloped edges of parallel street parking. In Seattle, many of the curbs are “cut out” so the beginning and end of them are angled and cars can’t fit. Usually they’re painted red or white to let you know you can’t park there. But they’re perfect scooter spots. You can often squeeze two scooters in.

For example, on University Way (or “the Ave” for you locals), I see a lot of cycles tucked into these corners. We

could easily fit 6 scooters per block if we were allowed to park there, without affecting the availability of car parking at all. Presently, many of those spots are painted as no parking zones, as I mentioned in a previous post. I know at least two other people besides myself who have recently gotten tickets for parking in those areas, painted or not.

It’s all about getting creative. Maybe it’s the blue-collar Yankee Ingenuity I was raised with, but I’m all about making do and making use of the resources at your disposal. We probably don’t need to engage the city in expensive, red-tape laden parking revolutions. We just need a little less yellow paint and a receipt for our meter stickers.

More scooter parking ideas and creativity is a post from: Scooter Lust

This photo is from the Sustainable West Seattle fair. A couple of people asked me about the magnetic poetry yesterday’s article in the West Seattle Herald referenced. Here it is!

Aphrodite was covered head to tail light in Sexual Innuendo Magnetic Poetry. It was fun for a few months and then i removed it because it was scratching my paint. Last week I found one lonely, perfect word lying on the floor of the garage, and stuck it to the Frankenstella.

Vespa personalization with magnetic poetry is a post from: Scooter Lust

Photo by Vu

Vu came and helped me make several improvements on Celeste over the weekend.

This included idle adjustment, upjetting (see action photo above!), and tracing two large black puddles from the floor of my garage up into the spark plug and oil tank, where they were born.

It appears I’m having one of those hydra moments; I finally whack off a few heads that have been pestering me, only to reveal a fresh set of hungrier ones.

But! I did video tape the idle adjustment so as soon as I get a chance to edit it (sorry, not today – the sun is out!) I’ll post our very first scooterlust video tutorial.

And in exciting related news, Jett and I had the first organizational meeting of our new all girl scooter club. We brainstormed over cupcakes in West Seattle. I’m most creative with a bellyful of Coconut Bunny. Hopefully I’ll be able to provide more details soon. We’ve already recruited one member. And she’s a Stella Repair Supervixen.
Girl power!

Stella Upjetting, spark plugs and idle fun is a post from: Scooter Lust

Now that Celeste is back on the road, I haven’t been riding the GTS as often. Though when I do, it’s for very long trips. Something strange I noticed today: Aphrodite and Celeste have almost the exact same total mileage this week: 2,500 miles. Cue: Twilight Zone theme song.

Two interesting Fun Facts for you today, kids:

1. Vespa’s claim of 65 – 70 miles per gallon for the GTS is actually accurate! My current average is 65 MPG, right on the money.
2. Whether I ride long and country twisty roads, straight-shot highway commutes, two-up or solo, my efficiency only fluctuates by about 1 mile per gallon.

{catch-up on this fuel efficiency debate in my previous post, caviar and v-power}

Historical Statistics

7/25 tank MPG: 65.5

• Average MPG: 65.0

• Mileage at fill-up: 2527
• Cost per gallon: $4.779
• Gallons added: 1.768
• Total cost: $8.45

7/18 tank MPG: 64.9

• Mileage at fill-up: 2411

• Cost per gallon: $4.799
• Gallons added: 1.471
• Total cost: $7.08

6/28 tank MPG: 64.7

• Mileage at fill-up: 2119

• Cost per gallon: $4.879
• Gallons added: 1.429
• Total cost: $6.97

Vespa Gas Mileage Update 3 is a post from: Scooter Lust

I must admit I have a serious tech fetish. I often get itchy fingers at the sight of a new toy with bells, whistles and a microchip. (Especially in white.) So imagine my delight when I came across the Diagnostic Scan Tool for the Vespa GTS.

Basically, you plug one end of this baby into your Vespa GTS scooter and the other into your laptop, and you can “fix error codes and check out many other systems on your GTS via computer,” according to the product description.

I discovered this tool in my early days of GTS ownership while Aphrodite and I were ironing out a few wrinkles, including a malfunctioning rectifier and errant sparkplug connector.

In a fit of self-righteous anger, I announced my intent to buy the dianostic scan tool so I could figure out the issues myself since the shop was clearly incapable. But the scooter was repaired before I got around to buying the gadget, and I’d forgotten all about it until I recently rediscovered the bookmark.

While I’m undeniably pro-gadget, I guess the question is: what, exactly, would diagnosing my hypothetical error codes do for me when I’ve laid down $450 for a three-year extended warranty? Cause I certainly didn’t fork over that cash so I could fix my own error codes. Were my bike out of warranty and its repairs within the scope of my present skill set, the investment may prove worthwhile.

But at the rate I’m piling on the mileage, my Vespa will likely need a rebuild (65,000 miles?) when my warranty expires so I’ll likely need a new GTS 300, with bells and whistles.

(They even come in white!)

Vespa GTS Diagnostic Scan Tool is a post from: Scooter Lust

I picked up my finished Stella cowls on Saturday at long last. I strapped them to the Vespa to bring them home and I was slightly nervous transporting them, fearing the curse of the Frankenstella extended even beyond the garage. I briefly entertained the thought of how darkly apropos it would be to crash right then, totaling the GTS and the freshly-minted Stella cowls in one fell swoop.

Alas, I weathered the 3 miles without incident.

In case you’re just joining us, it might be worthwhile for me to
summarize Celeste the Frankenstella’s cosmetic challenges. (Summarizing
her karmic and mechanical challenges would require more hard drive
space than I have.)

My friend was riding the Frankenstella in a parking lot, let up the
clutch too quick, popped a wheelie, and then grabbed the throttle,
launching the scooter into the air. I watched the Stella bounce along
on the asphalt before finally coming to rest on the throttle. The leg
shield was dented and the right cowl scratched from the slide.

A few weeks later, I was riding in a group on a gravel road littered
with enormous water-filled pot holes. The scooter in front of me
stopped short, and I tried to stop short and avoid a pot hole at the
same time and down I went. Of course, I dropped the bike on the
opposite side of the existing damage, just to balance things out.

Two weeks after that, I brought the scooter to the shop because it
was dieseling, and since the shop was closed, I left the Frankentstella
parked outside. She was struck by a car, which knocked her down and
obliterated what little cosmetic appeal she had left.

As a result of all this abuse, Celeste’s cowls were banged up but
not unsalvageable. After the three unlucky tumbles, the metal was
dented, the paint scratched and chipped, and the badges broken off. My
primary state of mind when tackling this project was, “how much worse
could I make it?”

I consulted the experts. The chapter on Paint & Bodywork in the indispensable How to Restore and Maintain Your Vespa Motorscooter
says, “Painting a scooter is generally a procedure best left to
professionals.” Hmmph. You’ll get the same advice when dyeing your
hair, but that never stopped me. I figured the warning was partly a
“release from liability” statement (much like Clairol’s), and partly to
keep their body shop friends in business.

I did fine with the patching, sanding, and priming. The main problem
with fixing the cowls myself was matching Celeste’s totally custom
metallic green. I made three trips to two different auto supply stores,
purchasing various bottles of automotive touch-up paint, and came up
just shy of that sparkly mermaid green. I finally found a rattle can of
metallic spraypaint at Fred Meyer that looked darn close on the cap,
and decided to just go with it. I was frustrated, and broke.

I sprayed the cowls and the color matched from a distance (of about
a mile) but up close it was clearly a darker, more pine-y green. Plus,
the finish looked like hell. Because I’m not a professional.

Defeated, I ordered two new P-series cowls from Scooterworks because they were on sale.

I did some research to find out who originally painted Celeste, and
came up with Russ at Custom Classics Paintworks. He used to be in
Lynnwood, where some of my favorite things originate, but has now set
up shop in Ravensdale, WA. They’re so old school they don’t even have a
web site.

I provided Russ with one of the original cowls, which still had the
initial green paint on the inside, and he matched the color and painted
the two new cowls for $100 each, including the two-tone stripe. So the
whole paint job cost $220 after tax. At first I thought that was a lot
of money, but after spending nearly half that on silly little bottles
of unmatching touch-up paint and wasting several weekends attempting to
make it look passable, I wish I had just gone straight to Russ.

I’m learning that there are tasks we pay professionals to do because
they know how and we don’t – and it’s as simple as that. I mean, you
wouldn’t perform a root canal on yourself just because you found
instructions on the internet, would you?

For some attempts at DIY, the cost of purchasing the necessary tools
can exceed having a professional do it for you. In the case of painting
the cowls, I don’t plan on doing any further paint work, so it doesn’t
make sense for me to buy and set up a spray tent and all the other
equipment necessary to do it well. Well being the operative term.

My finished results, beside Russ’ finished results. See why I paid him?

Painting for (un)Professionals is a post from: Scooter Lust

Ironically, I had planned on writing a post this week about the large selection of different windshields available for your scooter along with my reviews of the various sizes and brands.

Here’s my review of the Faco mid-size windshield for the Vespa GTS: It’s really expensive and breaks when slammed against a rock wall.

Some very mean people (not the words I chose offline) decided it would be fun to push my scooter over on Friday night while it was parked in my driveway. Hours before, I was lying in bed thinking, “I forgot to put my scooter in the garage. I should go do that.” But I was not motivated by the thought of getting out of bed at midnight, getting dressed and trekking outside. So I didn’t.

I don’t know what ensued, but I can speculate that a bunch of drunkards were horsing around sitting on it and fell off, bringing it down with them. I’d rather imagine that, than a bunch of drunkards vile enough to maliciously push it over, freely roaming my neighborhood.

Luckily, the fallen Aphrodite was discovered by my boyfriend, who righted the scooter, sparing me the trauma of seeing my beautiful piece of machinery sprawled on the cement and giving me time to mentally prepare myself for the damage. It would have been far worse to discover it myself – and then have to wrestle the 400 lb. bike up off the ground, too.

One of the (countless) things that bugs me is that there’s this bright red Vespa ET4 parked on the street one block down that has been there for a year and has never been hit, stolen, or messed with. Meanwhile, I leave my scooter in my private driveway for one single night (the only time I’ve left it outside) and it gets vandalized.

The damage was not as bad as it could have been; the crash bars are worth their weight in gold (or cost in chrome), protecting the paint job and tender panels. The left mirror suffered quite a blow and is now dented — though no broken mirror so perhaps it will suffer no further bad luck.

On a positive note, Saturday’s 95 degree sunshine was a good excuse as any to remove the windshield and let the fresh summer air cool me down. It felt strange at first to ride without that barrier, but I got used to it quickly. I seem to ride a lot more slowly without it. The force of the wind at 45 m.p.h. is much more noticeable.

Okay, I’m done feeling sorry for myself now. Fun and exciting photos from Saturday’s Secret Sunset Scoot ‘n’ Skewer are forthcoming, including action shots from the scooter jousting session. Stay tuned!

Vespa GTS windshield trauma is a post from: Scooter Lust