Skip to main content

MY NEW OLD SCOOT - HONDA ELITE CH250

Amidst all of the political and social silliness, there's nothing like putting on a helmet and gloves, getting up on two wheels, and twisting the throttle. For the past three years, that means the 150cc Chinese scooter that I call Blueberry. But Blueberry is in hospital. Her clutch blew and took an oil seal with it.

I went up on craigslist and took a look around. What to my wondering eyes should appear? A 1985 Honda Elite CH250 scooter.

I know. A 25 year old motor vehicle? Well, that's the thing about Honda's, ya see. they're bulletproof. But $625? That's way too cheap for a good running Honda scoot no matter how old. So I called.

"What's the matter with it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"So why are you selling it?'

"My dad says that I have to get it out of the garage."

Good answer. So I bought it.

It's got some problems. The panels are a bit scruffy...so I call her Scruffy. It rides OK. I've hit 70 MPH. I'd like better fuel economy...it's only getting about 55 MPG. And right now, in the cold cold weather, it's hard to start. But it's a fine old scoot. I'll sort her out. And in spring I'll ride the tires off her.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

GRAND CAFE OCCITAN: RESTAURANT REVIEW

  We made our way to a new restaurant the other day, up toward the hills past La Liviniere in the small town of Felines-Minervois. None of our party had been there before, but a friend had visited and said that she'd enjoyed it. She's a vegetarian. First clue. Now don't get me wrong. I have no gripe with those who choose to go meatless. I understand the environmental concerns and I understand the horrors of factory farming. But I also understand that form follows function in the design of tools, in the design of appliances, and in the design of human teeth. Our incisors and canines did not develop over the course of hundreds of thousands of years to rend the flesh of a fresh-caught broccoli. We are omnivores by design, Darwinian design. And I enjoy eating omni. Enough preamble... I never went inside the Grand Cafe Occitan. A young lady who would be our server met us at the front door of the nicely pointed old stone house, leading us to a pebble-covered courtyard on the side

DANCING AND SEXISM, JANET JACKSON, HILLARY AND DONALD, AND MORE: #16

   DANCING AND SEXISM Norman and I went to the same high school at the same time, we knew each other, but we had no classes together and weren't really friends. A big, ungainly kid, as a teenager Norman played keyboards for services at a local church. I learned some years after graduation that Norman had gone to a fine arts college and had worked his way up to Resident Organist at a major, big city Protestant congregation. Fast forward to our 25th or 30th high school reunion, I don't remember which. I do remember that when the dancing started, one couple who were obviously into ballroom dancing glided and posed across the floor with serious expressions on their faces. Carefully well rehearsed. Then Norman stepped on the floor, blue suit, white shirt, red tie and all. He stomped. He twirled. His arms and legs flew in every direction. Norman truly danced like no one was watching. I envy Norman's dancing to this day. Sanna Marin wears leather coats, goes to rock concerts, and

MONARCHY, BUTT PATTING, SELF CHECKOUT, AND RANDOM STUFF: #17

  MONARCHY It is not possible to be an English-speaking expat living in Europe without having gained some understanding of how the UK works and how UK policies and politics affect European life. And so, a word about the monarchy is in order today. I'm no monarchist. As an American, I have grown up believing in liberal democracy. Today, I consider myself a democratic socialist. But I have come to appreciate the manner in which British royalty has accommodated itself to the modern world. There is no doubt that accommodation has diminished the role of the monarch. That's probably a good thing. But a diminished monarchy need not necessarily herald the end of the monarchy. Elizabeth's monarchy became simply the personification of her country's flag, to be trotted out to acknowledge community, in good times and in sad times, expressing publicly what was being felt privately. There was a time, during Brexit, when I was furious with Elizabeth. As one of the richest, most well-