This new motor, still in the grease-lined package, fits exactly into the same mounts. I’ll report back once the mechanic has a closer look. This photo may be the last of a series. As shown here, new tires, new starter, new battery, new kickstand, new drive belt, many new smaller parts. The cost of ownership (not operating costs) to date has been 11.5 cents per mile, slightly more than half that of a small car.Don’t be misled. This scooter lived in a perfect world. It was mechanic maintained and Florida is full of shops and spare parts. If it is the motor, it lasted precisely 9,500 miles and that is pitiful overall. If it comes to replace rather than repair, I may look at a more durable product. This scooter had a specific purpose and it certainly accomplished that within a tight budget.
Apologies to Eatmore (Judy), the babe of all babes in my teens. I once told her I would never spend money for “potato skins”. That was how I defined junk food. You want potato skins? I understood it was not the same thing, but I did say I’d never buy it. Today, I finally shelled out six bucks for what really were potato skins. And that was at Gamaroff’s, the place insecure Yuppies take their parents. The dish had so many extras and sauces and cheese bits that a serving of soda crackers would have been equally tasty.
Gamaroff’s is one restaurant hard to explain in a town where such operations rarely succeed. It is basically a big barn with a U-shaped bar in the middle. No entertainment, no décor, not even any background music. It is empty most of the week, until Friday night, when it is at capacity of I’d say 200 persons. It isn’t cheap. It runs fifteen bucks for a sandwich and coffee. Ah, you say, I was out on a Friday night. Yes, that eatery is walking distance from here and the only other joint is Flannigan’s, which I dislike over the clientele. They are the potato skins of society. Argh, don’t hit me.
The silver lining in all this was I had to drive the sidecar around town to get my chores done. That is makes the day’s difficulties all okay, the machine is plain thrilling to drive, and although I’m only interested in what young skinny women think, that motorcycle possesses a huge envy factor. Every time I stop for gas, some guy wants to buy it. Here’s something unexpected: Once you have ten thousand miles driving this rig, you adapt to a characteristic “posture of experience”. Let me describe that.
Florida roads are third world. There is no such thing as a roadway here that is smooth from end to end. The machine is heavy enough to “float” over most of it once you learn to slouch into the seat as the path of least resistance. It took me a while to understand how noticeable this was when people said I looked like I knew what I was doing. I admit to emphasizing this profile when I know somebody is looking. The machine is surprising easy to control and the same slight crouching pose also improves the ride in the sidecar. So the next time you see two relaxed-looking people in one of these contraptions, it isn’t only your imagination.
The tourists are leaving early this year. I’m watching everything that could turn into a deal. When you buy a mobile home with the land, be careful where that land is. There are many co-ops where you own the land but are subject to “association fees”. These are not too troublesome at under $200 per month—but isn’t that how it always starts. The place I found in Holiday, FL, was not in a park, which is ideally what I want but that one was so darn far away.
A few deals are already appearing, but my instinct says tread cautiously. The media has hyped the “11% surge” in prices lately as another recovery and it creates false hope. Sellers hold back hoping they’ll break even. What the heck, it’s early in the season and if I have to wait another year, I’m not really hurting any. My goal is more space and a room I can rent out. Maybe an ensuite.
That rental room is critical to my future. Whether I travel or even move to Colorado, I need a place occupied and tended to year round. Finances permitting, I doubt I would ever give up Florida now. Trust me, it is the climate, not the people. Even if I live on the prairies, it is immensely comforting to know there is an alternative to when the snowdrifts get this high.
