A group of 40 of us on mostly Vespa and Lambretta scooters headed out to the canyons of NorCal. Canyon carving into Castro Valley was a kick, but once out of the hills we ran smack dab into a hillbilly protest. Cops everywhere. Rednecks everywhere. "Free the Texas 3" was all over signs. If they were really smart (which hillbilly rednecks aren't), they would have had something like "Play Texas Hold 'em with cards, not people" or some other jackass nonsense. We fueled up and split before the mullet brigade could see that we had some Mexicans and homos in our group. We shot down the Livermore Wine Trail into Niles Canyon. The front group, led by me and my 1962 GS160, was flying low and fast. I hit a nasty off camber turn as my scooter was fully leaned and my suspension fully collapsed. The scooter jumped up about a foot and I found myself across both lanes of the narrow canyon. First I yelled, "SHIT!", then I checked my pants to see if I did. Out of the canyons and into Pleaston (P-ton for you losers) and lunch stop at a shitty Mexi joint. At the next gas stop Christopher the skinhead revved the shit out of his hopped up small frame, spewing clouds of smoke into the cab of Mike's '41 Ford truck that was playing chase vehicle. Back onto the road and into the canyons. The next canyon stretch was full of cows and horses. The horses were scared shitless by the sounds of all the two stroke engines. I guess they probably thought the McDonalds meat trucks were coming to chainsaw them into McRib sandwiches. The cows couldn't give a shit. Out of that canyon and onto Morgan Territory. This two lane mountain road wound way up, full of twisties. At the top it turned into a one lane road, full of twisties. And then it cross county lines and the road shot downhill, covered by a canopy of trees in a forest on a road as small as a goat trail (and trust me, I know my goats) full of pot holes. We should have slowed down, but the first 6 of us just gunned it. My suspension on that old GS kept maxxing and with every pothole, I would be tossed a foot into the air. Potholes in the roads, cliffs on one side, and 5MPH turns everywhere. Amazingly none of us wrecked, but we stopped at the next barn to wait for the slower folks. Then we noticed Jethro and Bubba at the barn working on their hillbilly Jeep. These two goat fuckers were straight out of Deliverance. They even had that beautiful hillbilly methlab smile. After we regrouped we headed out before they could break out the Vasoline ("get up in them woods!"). The next stretch of road was smooth and twisty and we shot up to 70MPH, despite the rain coming down. A quick jaunt on the HWY and we were in Walnut Crack, home of the nuevo riche (where they drink lattes in their 4X4s). It was SUV hell. We lost a few souls that had enough with the 100 miles of canyons already ridden. So long. We fueled up and hit the canyons back to Berkeley. On the last stretch the front group of 6 hit an oil slick in the apex of a 10MPH right corner that we were taking at 40MPH. I had full washout on both the front and rear wheels and luckily caught it before it went down. I looked back to see two more washouts and another scoot going wide off the side onto a dirt pad. I can't believe nobody died on that part. We hit the meet spot in downtown Berkeley and split up right as the rain started coming down. What a day. Sure as fuck beats sitting online wishing I had a life...
