Dear readers:
Here are some bits of news, offered before I tell you of my latest interest:
-I will close the garden on Tuesday, September 22, to ready it for winter.
If you can visit before then, there is still much to see. The sweet autumn clematis is the best it’s ever been, offering a massive pure white, scented display. And the gorgeously green elephant ears are actually as large as an African elephant’s, and decorated with fascinating markings. The huge banana tree provides a fine foil for the fourteen-foot tall, delicately needled yellow chamaecyparis shrub. And, of course, there are the vivid blue asters, warm, pink masses of impatiens, and my old friends the tall miscanthus grasses, waving their big fringed plumes. Even the hibiscus trees- including the red ‘dinner plate’ hibiscus- are still blooming. It’s outrageous out there!
-Some people have written to say that they’ve been dropped from my mailing list, so I ran to my webmaster, who said that if anything involving an email address is tweaked or changed- then you won't receive my email. So for example if you were getting my column at your aol.com address, and aren't finding it in your new Hotmail or Gmail address, that's why. Simply enter your new email address, should you have one, in the white box here on my website. That should fix it.
Well, maybe. I found myself dropped, and I hadn’t made any changes. And, when I re-entered my address it squawked that I was already on the list. Weird! But, I finally found my column - it was being sent to me all this time, but in my inbox it was being sorted automatically into a different "tab" - it was arriving under the category 'Social' rather than 'Primary.' I use Gmail, so look in your tabs if you have Gmail too. (I don’t understand computer shenanigans: that’s why I have a webmaster.)
Anyway, we had another adventure last week. Joe, Bryn-dog and I were returning from an early morning ‘swim and fetch’ in the bay. We turned our car onto Union Street from Grand View Parkway, which is right next to the downtown outdoor parking lot where the Farmers’ market is held on Saturdays. “Oh, boy! Look at that!” said Joe, suddenly pointing into the still empty lot.
I looked.
And fell in love.
There, demurely settled into the last parking space, sat a bright red Stella motor scooter, complete with sidecar. There was a ‘For Sale’ sign attached to the windscreen. The price was very reasonable!
We bounded out of the car and inspected it, while Bryn admired it from the car window. As we moved around the machine another guy drove up in his truck to admire it as well. We noticed craned necks as people drove by, or waited at the light. The ‘red beauty’ got lots of thumbs up.
Silly as it seems, I was jealous. I wanted to shoo this man away. But he wouldn’t be shooed. “Wonderful scooter, eh? Tell me about it.” Hah. He thought I was selling it. I told him I knew little, as we had just discovered it, and then we departed.
It was important to leave to think about what was the reasonable thing to do, away from that siren-red temptation.
Arriving at home, we talked about what we would use it for; we three could buzz around country roads, and around town. But then I began to fret. “That guy had a covetous gleam in his eye, Joe; he might buy it before we can connect with the seller for more info. Someone else is probably talking to him right now, as he doesn’t answer. I’ve left a message and our number.”
Five minutes later the seller rang back. “I just got home after leaving it there. I don’t like to work the phone and drive, so I didn’t answer before...
Let me tell you about it. It’s a 2005, 150cc Stella motorcycle, a Vespa knockoff; (Vespa is an Italian motorcycle company.) This bike is handy for zipping around in cities (ahh... I remembered ‘Roman Holiday,’ where Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck rode happily around on a Vespa, through Rome’s streets) and it’s extremely efficient, offering 90 miles to the gallon. It has ample storage space for groceries, too. We added the wire basket, for more.
Top speed is maybe 55, but with the sidecar attached--maybe 40-45 mph. I bought this one for my wife, but she hasn’t used it much. And now we’re moving, so I’ve decided to sell it. We’ve put only about 3500 miles on it, accrued when I went on a camping trip once in Wisconsin. The rear fender had a dent and small paint scrape that’s been repaired and repainted.
It’s easy to service, as Vespa parts work just fine.
We asked more questions, told him we’d like to buy it, and settled on a price slightly less than he’d asked. We’d meet back at the parking lot in thirty minutes.
It’s simply amazing what can happen to normal people in just one hour.
Before money changed hands Joe drove it around the big empty lot, and found it had an intense shimmy/wobble. He’d been told about it, and that it would disappear at higher speeds- around 20mph. The seller said he just hadn’t had time to fiddle with it, but these motorcycles were known to act this way when connected to sidecars.
Undaunted, we exchanged money and title. And danced around the parking lot, thrilled. There is something so very Joe-cool (sorry, Snoopy) about this contraption: it had beckoned to us.
Now came the fun part. Joe loves to problem-solve, and he did just that. After careful measurement and a detailed examination he rode it up and down the alley with the frame wibble-wobbling, until he had grasped the ‘what, where, when,’ and then he went into our library to research the solution. A slick-looking English-made steering damper, designed to control/mitigate the wobble, was ordered via the net. It looks rather like a piston. In two or three days this gadget fell through our large mail slot, and he installed it. Bingo! Problem solved.
We took it for a neighborhood spin: what fun! Bryn’s eyebrows rose, and she declined to come along, but was happy to pose in it for now. There is room- just- to add her to the sidecar with me there too, with enough small modifications to insure she can’t be dumped out, but that’s down the road. Meanwhile my hair blows, my teeth gleam, and I lounge long, with legroom to spare, while Joe zips us along. The old joke: How to tell a happy motorcyclist?? By the flies in their teeth when they smile!!
Life is often about sudden, fun changes, by golly!
Here are some bits of news, offered before I tell you of my latest interest:
-I will close the garden on Tuesday, September 22, to ready it for winter.
If you can visit before then, there is still much to see. The sweet autumn clematis is the best it’s ever been, offering a massive pure white, scented display. And the gorgeously green elephant ears are actually as large as an African elephant’s, and decorated with fascinating markings. The huge banana tree provides a fine foil for the fourteen-foot tall, delicately needled yellow chamaecyparis shrub. And, of course, there are the vivid blue asters, warm, pink masses of impatiens, and my old friends the tall miscanthus grasses, waving their big fringed plumes. Even the hibiscus trees- including the red ‘dinner plate’ hibiscus- are still blooming. It’s outrageous out there!
-Some people have written to say that they’ve been dropped from my mailing list, so I ran to my webmaster, who said that if anything involving an email address is tweaked or changed- then you won't receive my email. So for example if you were getting my column at your aol.com address, and aren't finding it in your new Hotmail or Gmail address, that's why. Simply enter your new email address, should you have one, in the white box here on my website. That should fix it.
Well, maybe. I found myself dropped, and I hadn’t made any changes. And, when I re-entered my address it squawked that I was already on the list. Weird! But, I finally found my column - it was being sent to me all this time, but in my inbox it was being sorted automatically into a different "tab" - it was arriving under the category 'Social' rather than 'Primary.' I use Gmail, so look in your tabs if you have Gmail too. (I don’t understand computer shenanigans: that’s why I have a webmaster.)
Anyway, we had another adventure last week. Joe, Bryn-dog and I were returning from an early morning ‘swim and fetch’ in the bay. We turned our car onto Union Street from Grand View Parkway, which is right next to the downtown outdoor parking lot where the Farmers’ market is held on Saturdays. “Oh, boy! Look at that!” said Joe, suddenly pointing into the still empty lot.
I looked.
And fell in love.
There, demurely settled into the last parking space, sat a bright red Stella motor scooter, complete with sidecar. There was a ‘For Sale’ sign attached to the windscreen. The price was very reasonable!
We bounded out of the car and inspected it, while Bryn admired it from the car window. As we moved around the machine another guy drove up in his truck to admire it as well. We noticed craned necks as people drove by, or waited at the light. The ‘red beauty’ got lots of thumbs up.
Silly as it seems, I was jealous. I wanted to shoo this man away. But he wouldn’t be shooed. “Wonderful scooter, eh? Tell me about it.” Hah. He thought I was selling it. I told him I knew little, as we had just discovered it, and then we departed.
It was important to leave to think about what was the reasonable thing to do, away from that siren-red temptation.
Arriving at home, we talked about what we would use it for; we three could buzz around country roads, and around town. But then I began to fret. “That guy had a covetous gleam in his eye, Joe; he might buy it before we can connect with the seller for more info. Someone else is probably talking to him right now, as he doesn’t answer. I’ve left a message and our number.”
Five minutes later the seller rang back. “I just got home after leaving it there. I don’t like to work the phone and drive, so I didn’t answer before...
Let me tell you about it. It’s a 2005, 150cc Stella motorcycle, a Vespa knockoff; (Vespa is an Italian motorcycle company.) This bike is handy for zipping around in cities (ahh... I remembered ‘Roman Holiday,’ where Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck rode happily around on a Vespa, through Rome’s streets) and it’s extremely efficient, offering 90 miles to the gallon. It has ample storage space for groceries, too. We added the wire basket, for more.
Top speed is maybe 55, but with the sidecar attached--maybe 40-45 mph. I bought this one for my wife, but she hasn’t used it much. And now we’re moving, so I’ve decided to sell it. We’ve put only about 3500 miles on it, accrued when I went on a camping trip once in Wisconsin. The rear fender had a dent and small paint scrape that’s been repaired and repainted.
It’s easy to service, as Vespa parts work just fine.
We asked more questions, told him we’d like to buy it, and settled on a price slightly less than he’d asked. We’d meet back at the parking lot in thirty minutes.
It’s simply amazing what can happen to normal people in just one hour.
Before money changed hands Joe drove it around the big empty lot, and found it had an intense shimmy/wobble. He’d been told about it, and that it would disappear at higher speeds- around 20mph. The seller said he just hadn’t had time to fiddle with it, but these motorcycles were known to act this way when connected to sidecars.
Undaunted, we exchanged money and title. And danced around the parking lot, thrilled. There is something so very Joe-cool (sorry, Snoopy) about this contraption: it had beckoned to us.
Now came the fun part. Joe loves to problem-solve, and he did just that. After careful measurement and a detailed examination he rode it up and down the alley with the frame wibble-wobbling, until he had grasped the ‘what, where, when,’ and then he went into our library to research the solution. A slick-looking English-made steering damper, designed to control/mitigate the wobble, was ordered via the net. It looks rather like a piston. In two or three days this gadget fell through our large mail slot, and he installed it. Bingo! Problem solved.
We took it for a neighborhood spin: what fun! Bryn’s eyebrows rose, and she declined to come along, but was happy to pose in it for now. There is room- just- to add her to the sidecar with me there too, with enough small modifications to insure she can’t be dumped out, but that’s down the road. Meanwhile my hair blows, my teeth gleam, and I lounge long, with legroom to spare, while Joe zips us along. The old joke: How to tell a happy motorcyclist?? By the flies in their teeth when they smile!!
Life is often about sudden, fun changes, by golly!
