Scoot Commute

Wrentham State Forest … wrong bike, nice trail

Andre the Giant Obey on the Providence anti-graffiti truck

Andre the Giant Obey on the Providence anti-graffiti truck

Erik was kind enough to come to my office on Friday and help me hang some artwork, artwork that had been leaning against bookcases and sitting on top of filing cabinets for 2-3 years waiting for me to take some time to organize my office. We got a bunch of the pictures hung and it makes my office so much more homey now (or is that homely :)

He parked right behind my scoot, having been directed by the wonderful security folks on my campus. As we’re preparing to leave, I shout over, “Should we go get something to eat? I’m hungry.” He responded he was hungry, too, so I led the way to Trinity because one time when I thought we had agreed on the route, there was obviously a miscommunication because I turned onto West Exchange but he headed up toward Atwells. Trying to make a left onto Atwells at any hour on a Friday is excruciating. I just shrugged and continued on my way, figuring we’d meet up at the pub, but Erik had thought I had gone down as I was on the CB750 (which kicked my ass more than I kicked its) and he spent 20 minutes riding around Providence trying to find me.

Oh, but I digress. So this time I led the way on the little Buddy. That thing is just a workhorse and a half. As we pulled up in front of Trinity, I see the anti-graffiti truck filling up from a fire hydrant. On the back of the giant water receptacle, I spot an “Obey” sticker. I start laughing so hard I almost bang my helmeted head on my seat as I start disrobing. I yell over, “Hey, look at that. I’m sure Fairey would love it!”

Shout out to Julie for convincing the kitchen to make me a BLT. I don’t know why BLTs are not on the menu; they really are the perfect sandwich. There’s just a bit of warm from the bacon, tart juice from the tomato, sweet from the lettuce (if it’s good lettuce), and big crunch from the bread. I like mayonnaise on mine; nothing else. People, mustard on a BLT? Are you mad?!

Today, Saturday, I had the brilliant idea of riding the DRZ and the F650GS up to Wrentham State Forest for some woods riding. I knew there were legal trails, but I didn’t know what they were like. We took Route 152 through Massachusetts for a leisurely ride up (I really hate riding on I-95). When we pulled into the parking lot, a guy was just pulling in on his 2-stroke. Then another person who turned out to the be the dad of the first guy, who was actually a kid but who can tell what someone is when they’re head-to-toe in armour.

I walked over as the dad was taking off his helmet and shirt for a breather, holding the map. I asked about the trails, markings, direction, difficulty. He and his sons (another one turned up) were very nice and gave us some pointers. What I find amusing is that none of them suggested we shouldn’t try the loop. I thanked them and Erik and I walked over to the start of the trail to take a look at what we were going to get ourselves into.

Let me say right now, I’m not the brightest bulb and I tend to do some stupid shit on the bikes. As we entered the woods, Erik looked at me with that “I’m out” look and then said “Make your decision as if I’m not here.” As we walked into the woods, further and further, and I’m saying “see, take that line” or “yeah, just weave this way and then up there” or “hmmmm, that’s a pretty steep down, I guess you just pull up and throw your weight back” even I’m thinking I got the wrong bike with me today. The rocks…they were everywhere, and they’re big honking rocks that are loose. I’m not dressed for this, I’ve got street tires, and I’ve got the rack on the back of the DRZ. So I reluctantly agreed that we need to bring the CT90s.

DRZ400SM (Elsa) & BMW 650GS Dakar (Maxx) in Wrentham State Forest

DRZ400SM (Elsa) & BMW 650GS Dakar (Maxx) in Wrentham State Forest

We rode back home along the same route because Route 1 sucks and I-95 is awful. Route 152 was really nice with few stoplights and very few shopping centers/strip malls. Most of the ride is through residential neighborhoods at a leisurely pace.

We finally did get some dirt, and it was in Providence along a notorious drug corridor…shout out to David Cicilline! Friendship Street is all torn up in front of the daycare center. It’s a big pile of dirt. W00t!

After we tuck the bikes in for the night in the garage, we start to walk across the street. Our neighbor, Ron, is on his porch going into his house and yells over “Not even going to say hello?” I didn’t even see him, sheesh! So we walk over and he announces he’s bought a bike. Another bike. He has R80/7 that’s been in our garage for 3 years. I’ve never seen him ride even though he dumped a bucket of cash into it a couple of years ago to get it running (again) after he let it sit for awhile. He’s been talking about selling it, on and off, for about a year, but he never gave us the go-ahead to list it.

Ron with Vinny's 1985 K100RT

Ron with Vinny's 1985 K100RT

Well, today he was walking the neighborhood and wandered into another neighbor’s yard sale. Vinny had his garage open and Ron saw a K100RT sitting there. He knew Vinny had it but never inquired because another neighbor was interested. I don’t know why Ron is so nice sometimes, because James, the other neighbor (who happily lives several blocks away) is a prat. Ron asked if Vinny was selling it as it’s the bike he really wants, and Vinny said “sure, take it!” He sold it to Ron for a pittance, which is awesome because Ron is such a nice guy and the bike is perfect for him. I think Vinny realized it because he obviously loved riding the thing and knows Ron loves BMWs. I found the original service record book in the bike and Vinny put over 5,000 miles on it within 3 weeks of buying it, brand new, in 1986 from Razee. In two years he put 25,000 miles on it. Way to go Vinny!

Later in the evening I look out my house office window and I see Ron pushing the bike. I run downstairs, yelling to Erik to come, the bike is out front. I ran out and practically threw myself onto it. I couldn’t flatfoot it (I was in bare feet and the road is cupped) and as I threw it side-to-side, exclaimed, “Man, this thing is HEAVY!” Erik, me, Ken (yet another neighbor) and Ron stand around for about an hour looking over the bike, opening side cases and flipping up seats to get to everything. It’s a sweet bike. Not my style, but I completely get it. It’s got dual disc Brembos in front, a crazy 80’s Corbin seat (signed Mike Corbin), and a rockin’ radio/cassette player. It even came with a Spyro Gyra tape and some of the foulest smelling gasoline I’ve ever stuck my nose into.

Erik has now been charged with selling Ron’s 1978 R80/7 after a tune-up and some cleaning. I did tell Ron that my CB350 comes first since we have a camping trip coming up where I’m taking that bike. So if anyone is looking for a reasonably price R80/7, gimme a shout.


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