You can't have enough light.

As many of you know, my 1975 Serveta Jet 200 spent much of the last half of the Summer and the first half of the Fall on the bench.

The insane ride it took down to Wildwood, NJ as part of this year’s first East Coast Classic scooter rally, put the final nail in the proverbial coffin. I got there and back safely but within a week or so of the ride, the bike was belching smoke and fouling plugs left, right, and center. These symptoms immediately pointed to a blown oil seal, the seal that among other things – and I’m over-simplifying here – keeps the oil in the crank case away from the combustion chamber.

Thankfully, we still have experts like Gene at Scooters Originali in Orange, NJ to come to the rescue when faced with repairs beyond the roadside. Gene did a fantastic job addressing the oil seal, and giving the entire bike a once over. Given I didn’t know the provenance of the engine, I was keen to know what he was going to find under the hood. As perhaps expected, he found a thirty-five-year-old engine under the hood, and the oil seal was not the only issue that needed addressing.

Given I was now looking at the costs associated with “splitting the cases” to get inside the engine, I realized that this was the ideal opportunity to invest in a popular Lambretta upgrade, the famous 12 volt conversion. The Jet still had it’s original 6 volt wiring, and even with a rare 6 volt halogen bulb in the headlamp, I could barely spit out more light than a 1990′s cellphone.

The 12 volt conversion can be performed on all battery and non-battery Lambrettas and is done by using a new regulator to upgrade the output of the flywheel an additional 6 volts. Typically this is done using a – ssshhh so you’re Lammy friends don’t hear – a Vespa PX or P200 regulator.

I’m no electrician, though it is true that I am the son of an electrician, so I can’t begin to explain the details of how this works. If you have the know-how and you’re interested in learning more, the Lambretta Club of Great Britain have a concise article on how to perform the conversion yourself.

What I can attest to however is what a difference it makes. I can’t tell you how much I was beaming (no pun intended) from ear-to-ear last night as I pulled up behind an SUV to see my headlamp reflecting back at me from their rear. The old 6V bulb barely lit past the end of the front fender.

Additionally, of course, the entire electrical system has been upgraded so that means that the squashed duck that is the Lambretta horn has put on a few pounds and squeals a little more loudly, and perhaps more important even that the headlamp, the tail and brake lights now shine out in the dark for fellow motorists to see me when I pulled over in the dark waiting to make a left-hand turn.

All-in-all, I can’t recommend the conversion enough. Unless you’re a purist looking to keep your Lambretta absolutely stock, the conversion is the way to go. I’m a daily rider and I feel sooooo much safer knowing that in a world where drivers say time and time again that they just don’t see two-wheelers, that I’m a touch more visible.

Oh. And not belching smoke is nice to. Thanks Gene.

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This guy could be heading straight for your scooter. Photograph Courtesy Of: Cedarposts.Blogspot.com

I took a ride this morning. The weather is be-yoot-iful. But some say it can’t last. Some say, the milder the Fall, the worse the Winter. Who knows? I prefer to think more optimistically. Given the engine on my Jet 200 had been on the surgeon’s table at Scooters Originali for most of the last couple of months (thanks Gene, she’s running like a dream,) I’m hoping for a continued riding season to squeeze as much out of this year as possible.

However, one thing is for sure – Eventually the weather is going to turn nasty, and even if it’s not full-fledged snow, it could be ice that will prevent you riding. It’s therefore time to start planning a winter strategy for your scoot.

Many scooterists choose to store their scooter out on the street during the Winter months. And with some basic prep-work to winterize your bike, especially if it’s a two-stroker, this is certainly a viable option. But it can quickly become a bad call if the snow comes in and you wake up one morning to find your bike under a pile of snow, or worse yet, your bike scrapped away unknowingly by a NYC Sanitation Department snow plow (yes, it happens.)

And that’s why most of the area’s local scooter stores and mechanics offer off-road Winter storage solutions. With limited space available, it’s better to call around now before the weather turns and competition for space rises.

Northvale, New Jersey’s Metro Scooter has been offering a storage service for several years now with a pick-up and drop-off service for Manhattan bikers. Owner Alan Townsley recently pointed out to us that saving a buck by leaving your scooter on the street over the Winter can sometimes mean “Penny-Wise, Pound-Foolish.”

Alan got several distress calls this past Spring: scooters damaged by snow removal activity, customers issued tickets for parking issues related to being immobilized and many more that had mechanical issues needing serious money spent to get the owner riding again: “Winter 2010 was a blood bath. Many customers unfortunately had to spend much more to get their scooters sorted in Spring than they would have spent in storing them.”

Metro Scooter charges $349 for storage over Winter until April 30th and offers pick up and delivery in NYC at no additional charge. They also go a step further than simply putting a roof over your head and provide an oil and filter change plus a full safety inspection of all bikes before they roll out on the road for another year of riding.

So your call. Many seasoned scooterists pretty much ride all Winter long. As with all things, it’s about having the right apparel. But even the toughest scooterist can’t commute in the snow. Others who are more familiar with the ins-and-outs of their bike might opt to store their bike on the street. Again, viable as long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.

For those looking to store their bike outside, some local dealers have in the past hosted Winterization seminars so it’s worth keeping an eye on your favorite dealers’ websites for upcoming events. If you’re a Stella rider looking for tips, we have some great videos courtesy of Scooterville Minnesota, a state where you can be sure they know snow when they see it.

But if you don’t intend to ride through the harsh weather, or you’d like that shiny paint job to remain just the way it is, then worry-free storage is the way to go. If you’re interested in storage options call around your local friendly scooter dealers. Metro Scooter can be reached at 201-564-7003 or emailed at metroscooter@optonline.net.

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Photograph courtesy Orin O'Neill, Scootin' Old Skool.

Even if you don’t consider yourself much of a grease monkey when it comes to your modern Vespa, it’s useful to get comfortable with some basic maintenance tasks like prepping your scooter for the Winter.

You won’t need to swap your battery very often but when it happens, you’ll be glad you read Orin O’Neill’s article over at Scootin’ Old Skool. In the case of the GTS the battery is located in the footwell rather than under the seat in the case of the LX and S but it’s easily removed with just a Phillips screwdriver.

Head on over to Scootin’ Old Skool for the full article.

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The offending exhaust.

Over the winter I tried to stock up on some parts that I wanted to install on my 1961 Vespa VNB.  I took advantage of some sales from the usual suspects (ScooterWorks, ScooterWest etc), browsed eBay and found some deals there too.  One of the major repairs I had in mind was replacement of the exhaust that I inherited with the scooter.  It was all there, but rust that riddled the body, and the original owner had mentioned that it was one thing he had failed to address, while he restored the bike.

So I found one on eBay for VERY cheap.  Much cheaper than the ones I could find at the typical scooter outlets.  I decided to take a gamble, and gave it a shot.  It was advertised as being for my specific model, or rather, that it would fit my model, as well as some others.  Knowing that Vespa, like most manufacturers, reuse the same parts on several models, this fact did not worry me.  It seemed just on the border of being “too good to be true.”  I emailed the seller before I made the purchase, to make sure that they thought it would fit my particular scoot.  They insisted it would.  They were mostly correct…

I had the exhaust sitting in the basement of my building, awaiting install, throughout the winter.  This means I had certainly passed the allotted time to return it, if for some reason it did  not work.  But the several times I looked at it, I was confident that it would fit.  For the better part of the winter, my scooter was buried under snow, so I had no way of getting to it and really checking the fit, right up next to the original.

Summer came, and I finally got around to doing some work on the bike.  There were more pressing matters, so I addressed them first.  New clutch cable (nightmare to install), clutch adjustments, gear selector adjustments, and the list goes on.  Remembering that I had that bright, shiny exhaust waiting, I finally dug in on the install.  Removing the old exhaust was not exactly easy, because the rust that had damaged the functionality, had also mated the muffler to the header.  I sprayed some penetrating oil on it, and eventually, it let go.  Now looking at the new exhaust, right next to the original, it was obvious that the two were slightly different.  The new one had a pipe that was slightly different shape, and made it push back toward the rear of the bike a little further.  I was concerned that it would get a little too close to the rear wheel, but when I slid in into place, it cleared with a safe amount of room.  Panic over…

I have not ridden my scooter nearly as much as I did last year, and although I have taken some great rides this year, I have not put it through it’s paces as much as I would have liked.  There is no question that the replacement exhaust has made a difference in the overall sound, allowing me to start up the scooter without fear of waking every neighbor within a block of my apartment.  But the exhaust effects the running of the motor as well, and this new one should be producing different back-pressure for the engine.  While riding solo, I felt a little bit of difference, but I was also focused on other aspects of the scoot, so I was not sure that there was a performance boost.

Yesterday, sadly, was the first time I have ridden my girlfriend on the Vespa all summer.  Better late than never!  We headed out for a ride to south Brooklyn, and while pulling up the street, I immediately noticed a difference in the performance of the engine.  There was far more pep to the pick-up, even with the extra weight of a passenger (I am not implying anything about my girlfriend’s weight!).  It started out at stop signs and lights with a nice increase in torque.  I was very happy to notice such a difference.

Then I pulled into the parking lot, and despite moving very slowly, the exhaust scraped on the ground.  The incline was slight, and I probably should have approached the driveway on more of an angle, but this had never happened before with the old exhaust.  The extra length on the pipe allowed the muffler to hang lower, and I now would need to keep that in mind when dealing with any uneven roads.

Overall, I think the pros outweigh the cons, but it is something to keep in mind when shopping for aftermarket parts.  Some parts will work flawlessly, while others may be a close, but not quite perfect fit.  The slight increase in power, and quieter operation are perks worth having.  But the incorrect fit will mean that my riding will have to change a bit.  Cost vs. correct fit, you decide….

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If your scoot remained outside, after the type of weather we had this past season, then you surely know what I am up against.  That’s where the Internet comes in.  I searched for some good ways to treat this rust, and there are many products on the market for making your chrome look great, after it is already shining,  Most of these products are for polishing, but I needed a way to get it back to it’s original state.  My big concern was that the rust not be completely worked through from the underside of any of the pieces.  If this is the case, sadly, you are in the market for a replacement part.  But my rusting was on the surface, so I was able to concentrate on getting the surface rust off, and then I would worry about the polish.

I found a great trick, and was shocked at how well it works.  Aluminum foil.  That’s right, the household item that we all have in our kitchens, waiting for the leftovers.  Grab some aluminum foil, and a bit of WD-40.  Fortunately, I am confident that all of you have these items already, and they should now become part of your arsenal of tools too.  The key here is that aluminum is softer than chrome, so contact between the two metals leaves the chrome unscratched.

Here is how you get that chrome back to it’s glorious state: Take a piece of aluminum foil, about 6 inches long.  If you have the typical width foil, you can even rip it in half lengthwise, so that you have a piece about 6″ by 6″.  Now crumple it up a bit, so that it has wrinkles.  Not too tight, you want it to be like a stiff rag in your hand, not a tight ball.  Now spray some WD-40 on the aluminum, and the chrome as well.  Rub the foil along the chrome piece, making sure not to dig in too hard.  The concept is to use this foil as you would a piece of sandpaper.  Gently scrubbing back and forth on the chrome, be sure to have a healthy amount of WD-40 on the piece at all times.

This will “sand” off the surface rust, leaving the part oily, but free from the nasty debris that moisture has produced.  There are people that prefer using Coke as the lubricant, because there is an acid in the ingredients which eats rust.  I tried this, and can tell you first-hand that the sticky residue is annoying to get off, and the WD-40 seemed to work just as well.  Now that you have the rust removed, you can use your favorite cleaner and polish to get it back that shine that we all know and love.  For those of you that know that your scooter will be exposed to the elements on a regular basis, but do not have the chance to polish you scoot often, the last trick would be to coat the chrome pieces with some WD-40.  This product keeps moisture away from the metal, and should help eliminate the need for heavy cleaning next time.

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Two paint-related issues needed to be addressed on the bike, and together with the installation of a replacement to a cracked headlamp lens have pretty much finished up my to-do list which has taken the past six months to cross-off. With these final details done and dusted I’m feeling good about the bike making the ride. Not that paint contributes to mechanical well-being, but hey.

First up, an issue that has nagged me since purchasing the bike last year: some prior damage done to the headset top. A previous owner had drilled holes in the headset to accept left and white wing mirrors and these had been unceremoniously knocked out during what I assume was a lane-splitting exercise gone bad given the bike has no other bodily evidence of a drop. The resulting damage left two gnarled “exit wounds” and badly kinked the casting. Further, these holes had been hastily repaired with bondo applied like MacGyver applying Bazooka Joe.

The new unfinished legshield spare wheel rack and the original damaged headset.

Considering the headset top unsalvageable, I had originally bought an after-market headset top from Casa Lambretta, but (and no points against Casa) the cast was – as is often the case with duplicate parts – a poor fit and poorly cast.

I decided  therefore that it was time to save the original part. Figuring not only a TIG welding exercise was needed to repair the damage (it’s aluminum) but also a new coat of paint to match the rest of the bike, I was put in touch with Gowanus based auto repair shop that has previously done work for both (the sadly missed) Brooklynbretta and (happily still with us) Scooter Bottega.

In addition, after removing the original rear spare wheel rack following concerns over the fact that the weight of the wheel can crack the frame, I was left without a means to carry a spare. So I took reader Chris’ advice and purchased a nice Scootopia legshield spare wheel holder from Scooters Originali. Figuring I was going for a color-match and spray anyways, I added the new rack to the order.

Taking a ride out to New York Auto alongside the Gowanus canal in Brooklyn.

New York Auto on Nevins Street is run by a nice guy called Chris who clearly cares about his work. Where other auto repair shops would have quickly laughed me and my 35 year old piece of aluminum out of their shop, having familiarity with scoots, Chris welcomed the work.

The job took about three weeks to complete, mostly just because Chris subbed out the welding and tried three color matches before he found one he was happy with (to his credit) but the results turned out great. To weld the headset, finish it and paint and clear coat both pieces cost $300 which I felt was a fair price for the work.

The headset back on the bike. For some reason the photograph highlights a shift in color. In reality it looks like a perfect match.

In the photo above you can see the orignal top back on the bike and the color match is fantastic given Serveta ochre is a color that never made it out of the decade of the Seventies.

The rack installed on the bike. The "hub cap" is from the original rear rack.

Above the Scootopia rack is installed. Most of it is hidden from view behind the wheel but it’s also been color-matched to the bike. I kept the “hub cap” from the original period rear-rack and added that to retain as much of the lovely original patina of the bike as possible.

To be honest, if you look at the ignition key at the back of the headset you can see that with the wheel added it’s a tight fit on a Jet 200. It sits high up on the back of the legshield but given I’ve had it painted I’m making do. Just goes to show that you should always “dry fit” new parts before painting to make sure they fit the way you expect them to.

In my case it just means that when I insert the ignition key I have to remove it from my keyring of house keys to give it enough clearance above the tire. A small hassle but no great shakes. Presumably on a Innocenti Series 3, the legshield doesn’t interfere with the ignition.

So there we go. The bike is now fully operational, and all back in one piece with all of the original bodywork. Now to head out on the road to report from Wildwood…

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This vintage bike is from 1962, and it runs at 6 volts with no battery.  I have always been a bit concerned with the low output on the electrics, but without a major overhaul, and the complicated procedure of wiring a 12 volt battery into the system, this is the way she operates.  So, I proceeded to the inspection, and passed with flying colors.

On the way down to scooter shop, having the dim brake light in the back of my mind, I realized something for the first time.  Not only is the light not very visible to the cars behind me, when it is in fact engaged, but that I often do not even give the poor, underpowered light the opportunity to let people know I’m slowing down.  I employ engine breaking, better known as downshifting, at almost every chance I get.  This effectively slows the bike as I slip into lower gears, but it was now dawning on me that I am slowing the speed of this scoot, without the helpful telltale sign of a break light.  Therefore, any cars trailing me, would have no indication that I am coming to a stop unless they were REALLY paying attention.  Not good!

Problem is, aside from the dim lighting, one of the other weak points of owning a vintage scooter, is that you are dealing with underpowered braking.  The old system of drum brakes, coupled with the short ‘throw’ of the rear brake lever and cable activated front brakes, makes for some less than adequate braking.  Disc brakes were far into the future for scooters, which would finally bring safer braking to our little scoots.  Granted, this little Vespa only hits about 45 MPH on a good stretch, and I have grown accustomed to keeping safe distances. But for safety’s sake, I have worked into my daily riding routine, downshifting, to further my ability to stop quickly, before rear ending the car ahead of me.

This new discovery might take some rethinking on my part, in the way I utilize my stopping power, in conjunction with manipulating the brake light.  There is no brake light switch on the front brake lever, so for indicating my decreased speed, it’s the rear brake pedal, or nothing.  I started messing with pumping the brake pedal a bit before I was coming to the point where I wanted to slow down.  This is only effective if I know where I am going to stop, and it will take far more practice to work out a routine where I pump the brake pedal several times quickly, as second nature, when I have to stop more suddenly.

Downshifting is second nature to me, and frankly, I trust it more than the brakes themselves, to bring the bike to a speed that I know the brakes can handle quicker stopping.  I’m taking it slower these days, recognizing that the cars behind me probably have very little advance warning of my coming to a stop.  I have been practicing using the brake light as a flashing warning sign, but it will take some more work before I feel comfortable that the dim light is screaming “slow down,” to those vehicles following me.

In a city where the “safe” trailing distance is considered about 16 inches, this seems like a precaution well worth addressing….

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After barely making it back from Manhattan to Brooklyn the other day, finding myself scooting along over the Williamsburg Bridge on only one strand of a clutch cable, I decided not to procrastinate, and dive into repair.

Before the winter, I had purchased a full set of replacement cables for the bike, including two inner clutch cables, knowing it may be the one that breaks the most. There is no question that the routing of the cables on a vintage Vespa is a mystery to me.  The main outer cables snake through from the headset, down the breast of this beast, and somehow end up coming out underneath, toward the back of the bike.  Ingenious design, or sadistic joke? You be the judge…

I did my due diligence, and checked the repair book I have (“How to Restore and Maintain Your Vespa Motorscooter“) and looked up the pages I had bookmarked a year ago for just this occasion.  A couple different sites have How-To’s for this procedure, and so I figured I’d refresh my memory.  VespaMaintenance.com has a detailed procedure, so I printed that out, just for quick reference.  Turns out, the book I have doesn’t even have the word “cable” in the Index.  Really?  Come on!  I had planned on doing a full review of this book, but it would be a blunt “Don’t buy it!,” so consider the review done.  So I used the online tutorials instead,  to get me up to speed, and I felt I was ready for this seemingly simple fix.

Not so!  I followed the directions to the letter, removing the nipple at the engine end of the cable, and then removing the clutch lever from the bars.

I snipped the cable under the bike, removing the part that was frayed, so that it would have a smooth trip up through the bars.  The handlebar side of the cable has a soldered nipple on it, so you must pull the cable up through the bars.  I pulled it up through the bars without a hitch, which I assumed (foolishly it turns out) would ensure that outer housing would remain in place.  I then went about lubing the cable with some cable lube which has always worked well for me with other fixes.  I have since been told that some of these lubes may cause degradation of the outer cable housing so check first before you do the same.  Seems like a dastardly trick to pull on someone who went out of their way to buy a special spray made just for cables.  But it would not be the first time I fell for a marketing ploy.  I aimed the cable end into the handlebars, and began to fish it through the headset.  Problem is, it would go a certain distance, and then get stuck.  Then I decided to whip out the big guns.  I proceeded to lube the cable with grease, which made the act of twisting the cable MUCH more difficult.  I recalled a story about a greased pig, and wondered why and how people would commence capturing such a beast.  I supposed I would know after this procedure was all done.

I pushed and pulled, and wiggled and squirmed, and it still would not get past a certain point.  I finally removed the headlight, only to see that the cable was in fact just free forming all the way through the bars.  It was then that I realized that it was in fact not getting into the housing at all, but just entering the headset and rooting around in there until it hit the other end of the handlebars.  Ugh!

For about 20 minutes, I hoped that if I started the cable into the handle bar slot higher or lower, I might eventually hit the housing by luck.  Well, no such luck.  Eventually, frustrated,  I called it a day. Lesson learned, replacing the clutch cable requires opening the headset.

I posted a few questions online in the Modern Vespa forum.  A couple of fine folks gave me some pointers, and off I went to the curb, this time with the help of a friend, to try it one more time.  After removing the speedometer, I was able to get my fingers on the outer cable housing.  That ended up being the key to the whole fiasco.  The speedo must be removed to give you any chance of getting a grip on the damn thing.  The headlight is so small, with so much packed into it, that you have no way to operate in there.  With the speedo removed, you can get just a slight hold on the housing.  I actually ended up pulling the housing further from where it should eventually sit in the handlebar.  This made me nervous that I’d never get it back in, but at this point, I really had nothing to lose.  With that small movement, I was able to see the end of the housing, and aim the cable right into it!

After pushing and pulling a bit, we had the cable all the way through the housing, poking out the engine side of the bike.  Victory seemed near…

The next step was to get the housing back into the end of the handlebar, so that it holds the cable close to the clutch handle.  It took some wrestling, but eventually we were able to get it lined up, and flush against the “holder” that sits inside the handlebar.  I replaced the nipple at the engine side, set the clutch adjustment (covered well on the VespaMaintenance.com) and tightened her back up.

Final step was to fire her up, and take her for a test spin, to make sure that I was not experiencing any clutch drag.  This would be obvious when I put it into gear at a stand still, if the bike decided to creep, with the clutch lever pulled in.  Clutch drag test, check.  Time for a ride.  I rode her around the neighborhood, brought her back to the curb, double checked my work, and she passed with flying colors.

Clutch cable repair, complete.  Easy? Not as easy as I’d hoped. Necessary, absolutely!  Glad to have this experience out of the way, and like all repairs on this scooter so far, having this fix under my belt makes me feel confident that the next time (and there WILL be a next time!) will be smoother and much quicker.

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You’re out on the sidewalk working on your bike and along comes a steady stream of interest parties, curious folks, and crazies. Paul and Scott muse:

Scott
Well, I was all ready to buy a portable garage for wrenching on the curb, but the sun came out, and despite the cold, I was fine out there braving the elements.  Started tweaking the bike, getting it ready for the riding season, and cleaning her up for the (hopefully) long Spring and Summer.

There are some real disadvantages to not having a garage or proper workspace.  Of course, the cold is the most obvious.  But having to worry about your tools, when you need to run inside for something, has become equally frustrating.  I finally got a hand-me-down rolling tool box, so that at least it’s easier to grab all my stuff and put it inside the door, for those occasions when I realize I forgot the actual part I am supposed to be replacing, inside on the stairs. The hard asphalt is another.  I have a yoga mat, but I rarely end up using it.  I am fine, until hours later when I find myself sore and in pain, because I ended up sitting on the cold ground for 4 hours straight.

Although working on the curb (or the sidewalk) has it’s drawbacks, there is something positive that I have been noticing, about this very New York ritual.  It generates a sense of interest, and therefore, sparks conversation.  I can’t tell you how many times I have been out there, in all types of weather, when who happens by: the family with a father who used to ride, a young girl who would “love to get a scooter,” my 84 year old neighbor who can’t believe I’m “still working on that thing,” the FedEx delivery guy, who “used to own one of those back when…” They stop, ask a few questions, even hop on the bike to take a photo.  Their interest is genuine, and that’s somewhat of a commodity around here.

I love the camaraderie of meeting with the NY Scooter Club.  Those people obviously get my obsession.  We talk scoots, swap horror stories about riding in this city, and generally have a great time.

But this phenomenon of meeting random strangers on the street is incredible.  I find myself spending half my time fixing, half my time talking.  I love the interaction, and the conversations that are inspired by this old Vespa, are priceless.  In a city that moves at the speed of sound (except for my vintage gal!), these moments of connection offer a time to slow down, and actually meet the people who surround me every day.  I know this sounds corny, but the connection that I make with these people, is clearly due to the fact that I am out there on the curb, working away on a beautiful bike.  The enthusiasm with which I work on this thing, causes others to take note, and the next thing you know, we are talking shop.

For me and the people who wander by, it’s an ice breaker, a conversation starter, and reason to stop and check out the activities happening around them, that are foreign, but intriguing.  I so badly want a place to work that will protect me from the elements, but maybe these little conversations are reason enough to stay out on the curb.

Paul
Living in the East Village I’m in the neighborhood that invented stoop-slouching and street-corner hanging. It’s impossible to be out on the street without entering a conversation with a total stranger. And I love it. It’s what makes a neighborhood.

The old Hispanic boys in my neighborhood in particular seem to love that I’m out every weekend wrenching on my bike. It’s not uncommon for a small crowd (and a small cloud of cigar smoke) to gather as the local village elders take interest in my wrenching.

“Still working on that thing? You’ll get there.” “Nobody knows how to fix anything anymore. It’s great that you’re working on it. Keep at it.”

From time to time I even get some guy crouching down and handing me a wrench (I could have reached it myself, but thanks) or nipping inside and coming out with a pair of pliers for me from their personal toolbox as they invite themselves to the project.

Guys love to hang-out wherever work is being done. It’s the same primeval DNA that sits deep within all of us that requires the grill at cook-outs to be surrounded by the male of the species even if we fear venturing into the kitchen the remaining 364 days of the year.

The most common questions? “How old is that thing?” “How many miles to the gallon does that thing do?” “Do you need a license?” And, “how much does one of those things cost?”

Recent highlights? Being approached by a local photographer for a few snaps who’s been documenting activity on the same street corner for thirty years. The drunk who insisted on “assisting” me, doing more harm than good getting a screwdriver nervously close to my paint job. The cab-driver who saw me filling the brake fluid on my Vespa with a squeezable ketchup bottle, “I always suspected they ran on condiments.”

And I say keep ‘em coming. If you’ve got the time to come hang out. I’ve got plenty more projects awaiting completion. A favor? Bring a beer. It helps with the wrenching.

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You can see the original amber colored pipe below. It’s cloudy as a result of gas emulsifying over a period of time. This will happen when gas in the pipe is left for a period of inactivity, typically over the winter. This is why when you prep your scooter for winter storage many scooterists (and motorcycle riders) recommend running your bike dry by letting the engine tick over with the fuel valve off until the carburetor dies as it sucks up the last drops of fuel. Doing so drains any fuel from the pipe and carb that could potentially sit there all winter.

Emulsification aside, the pipe was adequately letting gas flow through and not ‘starving’ the carburetor. That said, the pipe had become brittle and wasn’t providing an adequate seal at either end. I had tried some plumber’s Teflon tape on the threads to try and stem the flow but it wasn’t working. Every time I returned to the bike and pulled the cover I was greeted with an overwhelming stench of gas and a pool of the stuff on the ground. The poor fit was causing a noticeable gas leak which – needless to say – is neither fiscally nor ‘flammably’ responsible.

The photo below shows the new pipe. I bought mine from Scooters Originali but it’s pretty standard and widely available from a number of sources. A length a little longer than I needed cost a couple of bucks and is easily cut to length with scissors. New color aside, this one is not only clean and clear but flexible enough to provide a nice seal

New pipe. Leak ended. Now if I can just find a replacement air host (left in the photos) then I’ll be golden. As you can see above that is also looking a little sad with cracking and electrical tape patching the holes. Another small victory lies ahead…

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