My Mum wasn't happy, and Dad kept thinking up ways to stop me riding the 1700kms from Hobart to the National Scooter Rally at Port Macquarie. Truck it up there, or buy a ute, load the scooter and drive it there. But I intended to ride my mighty Vespa PX200, engine freshly rebuilt after breaking fourth gear on the track at Philip Island in October (long story... and a longer wait for parts), and I knew it would get me there. After all, two PX200s had completed the Paris - Dakar Rally in 1980, and they weren't even the later model with the front disc brake!
As a sop to the parents I invested in a new Armadillo riding parka, with armour in the shoulders and elbows. It's hard to find a long jacket that looks "scootery" enough for my taste, so this was the first proper riding jacket I've bought since I started riding seven years ago. Time to retire the old German army parka! I've always had decent helmets, though openfaced. No plastic shell for me; I don't have a $70 head, and the fit is always better with a good helmet anyway.
My first leg was to ride from Hobart to Devonport, to catch the ferry to Melbourne. This time I was going to try out my brand new GPS ("Mr. GPS") and visit a friend of mine, who had moved to the country west of Launceston. What a wonderful tool a GPS is! Now I know just how far off being correct my speedo is! At this stage I was still running in the engine, so was limiting my speed to around 80km/h and being gentle with the engine. Always on the lookout for cars building up behind me, and ready to pull over to let them by. Less stress for me, and less for them... Signs informed me that 110 was "a limit, not a challenge" - well, they didn't know what I was riding!
After my visit I zoomed towards Devonport, and the queue to get on the ferry. There always seems to be a preponderance of Harleys when I go over, and this time was no different. It's an opportunity to educate them in the ways of scootering!
The next morning, it was off the ferry and straight in to the Melbourne morning traffic, and fifteen minutes later, I was totally lost! I pulled out Mr. GPS at a refuelling stop - how the hell do I find the Hume? He directed me through a lots of suburban roundabouts ("at the roundabout, take the second exit") up through Whittlesea; out in the country, I hoped he was right! Happily the roads eventually intersected with the big highway north.
Now, I know most riders would hate the Hume. Long, straight, multi-laned. This is precisely why I had chosen it. I wouldn't have any tailgaters, because they could pass me; petrol stations and food are easy to find; and as I had roughly 400kms to ride each day, on a 200cc scooter I was still running in, any other route was going to be too long and too tiring.
I had been terribly organised and had planned all my overnight stays, booking the hotels online. My first night's stop was Holbrook, a town on the highway, with of all things the top half of a submarine buried in the ground. Curious, and certainly different! The town was named after Lieutenant Norman Holbrook of the Royal Navy, who in World War 1 was awarded a VC for his actions in the Dardanelles. The submarine HMAS Otway served in the RAN from 1968 to 1995 and the submarine's fin and casing were presented to the town, eventually reconstructed in the town and bedded down in concrete. And why not?
There, the hotel owners were quite interested in my scooter trip, and insisted on giving me an ad they'd cut out of the local paper. Sadly, it was for a selection of those Asian-restored Vespas, of doubtful quality, the like of which turn up on eBay regularly. After a pleasant stay in Holbrook, it was back to the Hume and on my way to Goulburn. This was to be a fairly easy day of only 325kms. On the way I saw a roadside letterbox convincingly modelled from metal as a giant spider... four feet across! I stopped at Gundagai for a stop at the "Dog on the Tuckerbox" memorial. The "rural city" of Goulburn is famous for its giant construction of a Merino sheep, and it was almost obligatory to park in front of it for a photo. I went inside, but sadly you can no longer climb the stairs all the way to the top to look out through its eyes. In the evening I buzzed around the town centre for a while, and selected for dinner an amazing little cafe/restaurant in the main street called the Paragon. Inside, it's Art Deco in style, with mirrored walls and a long wooden bar, probably the sort of place my parents would have gone to when I was not even a twinkle in their eyes back in the early 1960s.
And on to day four on the road. My goal today was to bypass Sydney and reach Newcastle. (Now, I realise there is a section of the scootering community which is very interested in fuel economy. In fact, some riders I know keep records and produce spreadsheets to work it all out. Well, this next bit's for you!) All of a sudden, I realised that travelling at 80km/h was giving me significantly better economy than when I travel at my maximum throttle position, with a speed of around 90 to 110. However, as soon as I considered I'd ridden for long enough to run-in the engine, it was back to full throttle, and damn the economy! At this stage, I began to wonder why I was doing such a long ride. Was I having fun? Well, not all the time. Was it a challenge? Oh yes! Was I a loony? Very probably.
Not far north of Sydney I came upon a broken-down Lambretta and stopped to talk to the rider, Bill, a Sydneysider. He was also on his way to the rally, but was waiting for a trailer to arrive so he could load it up and start out again with another scooter. In Newcastle, I had kindly been invited to stay at the house of Bucko, who I had only met online, on the Two Wheels forum. A nice guy and sadly now gone, while doing the thing he loved best - riding a motorcycle. I got to meet his Rat Black Vespa of Death, unfortunately not running, so he wasn't coming to the Rally. We spent the evening yarning about our two-wheeling adventures. The next day we rode to meet Dave and Carrie, also on a PX200 but two up, with whom I would ride the rest of the way to Port Macquarie.
And now the weather, which had so far been kind to me, broke up. For most of this day, the rain was sheeting down. We also had to contend with roadworks, and a lack of passing lanes, to make it even less pleasant. How glad I was that my jacket was waterproof! How sad I was that I hadn't brought my wet weather trousers! At one petrol stop I became aware that one of my white wall tyre inserts had started peeling away with the stress of so many kilometres per day, so I finished the job and tore it off to stop it flapping around. My scooter was no longer the pristine thing it had been when I left Hobart!
On arrival at Port Macquarie, we meandered around trying to find the accommodation for the Rally, in the process collecting another rider who was also trying to find it. Mr. GPS's battery had gone flat, but I managed find the location on a map I'd printed on the computer, moments before it comically disintegrated in my hands under the torrential rain. We were only two blocks away! And so, to a weekend of socialising, scootering and some drinking. I quite rightly won the trophy for "Furthest Travelled", with a total of 1742kms ridden so far. Some of the highlights were the rideout to North Brother Mountain, where you could see for miles. An evening "do" with friends old and new, dancing to some great music. And the chance to talk to others with a similar enthusiasm for those powered two-wheelers known as scooters.
But soon the rally was over, and it was time to hit the road again. It was back to sunny, but muggy, weather. On the way to Gosford I stopped at the National Motorcycle Museum at Nabiac, which I'd spotted during the rain on the way up. They have an extensive collection of all sorts of two wheelers, including scooters and mopeds as well as motorbikes. On show, there is even a very early scooter, the Ner-A-Car, from 1921. I could have spent longer there than I did, but I had 350kms to ride to get to Gosford.
I was very happy when I checked the hotel menu in the room at Gosford. They had an Indian restaurant downstairs, my favourite cuisine! What's this?... not open Mondays?... and today is - Monday. Ah well, the gourmet pizza from around the corner was nice.
Day two of the return journey was to be the most difficult yet. It was an entertaining windy little ride down the hill into Gosford proper, to stock up on some two stroke oil, and just as entertaining on the way back up. But what I thought would be an easy ride past Sydney to Yass turned out to be a hot and slow crawl through the outskirts of the big city. A truck had scraped the high and rocky walls along the M2 and caught alight. There was to be no passing it, and all traffic was diverted along the Pacific Highway. Some of the time I zipped along the hard shoulder to pass the almost stationary traffic, but sometimes there wasn't a shoulder, or there was too much gravel and broken glass and I didn't want to risk a flat tyre. It seemed that we were travelling through an endless suburbia and I had no real idea where I was. I found some shade at a service station for a comfort stop and consulted Mr. GPS. I hoped the battery charge would hold out as I had no way of connecting it to the scooter's electrical system. Back on the road, and after a while I was in familiar territory - suddenly the M7 intersection appeared, and I was a very happy scooter girl!
I rolled into Yass when the shadows were getting long, sometime after 6pm. I was knackered! To relax before dinner, I jumped into the shower but managed to whack my forehead on a grab bar, raising a big bruise. Another bit had come off the scooter as well- somehow the rear tyre had "eaten" the mudflap. What a day!
By comparison, day three was cruisy. The weather was milder, the riding easy with no major city to skirt. More bits came off the scooter - another white wall insert started peeling so I despatched it, and a clamping arm dropped off my front carry rack somewhere, necessitating much occy-strapping to keep the thing from flying off. Tonight's stop, Chiltern, was a lovely little place full of old buildings. The petrol station was two bowsers outside a large agricultural type co-op. Outside the small supermarket there was a coin operated kiddies' ride-on scooter, so there were at least two scooters in town that night! It was hot, in the mid-30s, so I opted for a frozen microwave meal in the hotel room under the air-conditioner. I am a Tasmanian, after all!
I enjoyed yet another full room service breakfast the next morning, and then, phew, it was on to Melbourne to meet the ferry! Unfortunately the weather turned to rain, and more worryingly, wind. Wind is the enemy of small light vehicles, and has just about blown me off the road in the past. Parts of the Hume are quite exposed, and elevated enough to make it hard work riding a machine weighing about 120kgs in the wind and rain. A Harley rider passed me and gave me a wave; I was quite surprised until I met him at a later petrol stop and found out he was a Frenchman, on his way to a Harley rally in Tassie. Interestingly enough, almost the moment I could see the outskirts of Melbourne, the wind and rain stopped and it became warm and sunny. I was able to visit my old friends at Vespa House, and check out another couple of scooter shops, before I needed to queue for the ferry. My friend the Frenchman was on the ferry, and there were many bearded large blokes in black who jumped on their Harleys the next morning and rumbled off to their rally.
I can't say much of interest about the rest of the trip. It had got to a point where I just wanted to get home, and every kilometre was one more click closer. My total distance travelled was over 3600kms, the scooter didn't miss a beat, and my riding skills and confidence were improved. I had my memories and photos of the trip, and the satisfaction that I had ridden my Italian ladies' shopping bike distances it was never intended to cover. I had made it!!
What amazed me, mostly, is how new looking some of the broken parts are. Could've been smashed yesterday.
I also found that some of the rubber parts, such as the air filter bellows, are still soft and useable. We are going to use whatever original parts we can, but this won't be a by-the-book "correct" restoration with reference to paint charts etc. I'll leave that up to others who want to go that way. This is going to be MY scooter!
My front room is full of boxes of parts - everything (almost) I need for the new front end, new rubbery grometty things, clutch plates, bearings, nuts & bolts, tyres & tubes. I was able to tidy up the seat, and dye some vinyl to almost match for a cover of the backrest on the new rear rack.
