It’s basically ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’ but without that Ferrari scene at the end
So I spent all day Saturday hunched over the keyboard trying to force myself, at gunpoint, to write about yet another GD crossover SUV (how many of those things are they going to make, anyway?) and I wasn’t making any headway at all. I tried threats, I tried bribery, I tried extortion. Nothing was working. So on Sunday, rather than continue the abuse, I bolted.
It was Ferris Vaughn’s Day Off.
See, I had in the driveway that weekend a brand spankin’ new Indian Scout Sixty motorcycle, a big honkin’ BMW 750i xDrive and a Ferrari F12 Berlinetta and I figured, they can’t hassle me for not typing on a Sunday, can they? So off I went.
The Indian Scout Sixty
5:17 AM: First, the Indian. I pulled on my magnificent Aerostich Transit Suit, a sort of waterproof, breathable Gore-Tex Iron Man armor that keeps you dry and warm all day, and I fired up the Indian. The Scout Sixty is one of the best deals on two wheels. For less than nine grand, you get 61 cubic inches of liquid-cooled, fuel-injected all-American V-Twin making 78 hp and 65 lb-ft of torque, all packaged into a low-slung street cruiser that looks good enough to mount on your desk at work or maybe a sturdy coffee table at home.
But you really want to ride it instead. The seat height’s only 25.3 inches, which is about as low as that caster-wheeled scooter you roll around on in the garage when you’re bleeding the brakes on your Chevy. It feels lighter than its listed 561-pound wet weight and is easier to ride than your fist Schwinn. I enlisted my two riding buddies Tom and Mike, who have Triumphs (Mike’s Bonneville’s for sale; email me, and I’ll set you up), and off we went. Together we make up The Weasels Motorcycle Club, which, with only three completely law-abiding members, is not yet listed on the FBI’s outlaw biker list. The plan was to meet up with our other motorcycle friend Ricardo, who has a Ducati and who himself was going to meet up with the Southern California Norton Owners’ Club and ride to Ojai.
What could possibly go wrong?
5:58 AM: Off I rode in the freezing (by SoCal standards) pre-dawn darkness, warm as a toasted bagel in that Aerostich gear. But first I stopped at Stuttgart Automotive to check out their parts sale. Stuttgart Automotive’s been servicing LA’s Porsches (and BMWs, Mercedes, Audis, Minis and at least one Noble) since 1978. In those 38 years, they’d accumulated too many spare parts, so Sunday was the Bless This Mess garage sale o’ Porsche goodies. There was everything from wheels to cylinder heads stuffed onto racks in the upper loft and lining the walls of the shop below.
A nice collection of Porsche enthusiasts came by, including LA Porsche luminary and 911 collector and restorer Magnus Walker and Bisi Moto’s Bisi Ezerioha, who brought his 1,000-hp 911.
8:17 AM: Then it was off to Moorpark to meet up with Ricardo and the Nortons. By the time we got there, most of the bikes were leaving to head to Ojai, so we just fell in line behind everyone else and hoped they knew where they were going. Turns out they did: straight to Guy Webster’s Ducati collection.
10:01 AM: Webster is one of the world’s great celebrity and rock ‘n’ roll portrait photographers, working, most notably, with the Rolling Stones, but also with a feast of other greats over a remarkable 50-year career. And he loves motorcycles, particularly Ducatis.
“Whenever I made any money, I bought bikes,” he said. “It was the best investment I ever made.”
Touring with The Stones and other bands, he saw a lot of motorcycles, particularly in Europe, and bought as many as he could. His motorcycle (and car) collection used to measure in the hundreds, but he recently sold off much of it. The remains include Ducati Grand Prix bikes of all eras kept in perfect shape.
“I’d like to go riding,” he said, lamenting his slow recovery from a recent stroke.
11:46 AM: So we rode in his honor, up the hill a ways to Bator International. Motorcycle expert Glenn Bator moved to Ojai when he became the curator of the Otis Chandler collection in nearby Oxnard. When that collection was auctioned off after Chandler passed away, Bator’s own auction house was acquired by RM.
Now Bator International buys and sells classic motorcycles, as well as makes one of its own: the Trackmaster Miler. Sunday he opened up the whole thing and rolled out the bikes for all to see, from Minervas and AJSs to ancient Harleys and Indians.
1:12 PM: We got on our own Indian and rode even farther up into the hills to meet Winslow Bent and drive his new Jeep Scrambler. Bent’s Legacy Classic Trucks is headquartered in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. They’ve been building — or more accurately, reimagining — classic Dodge Power Wagons for a couple years. Now they’ve branched out to Jeep Scramblers.
We hopped into an open-topped Legacy Scrambler and climbed up the steepest trails the local mountains offered, then bombed down the local paved highways. A full report is coming soon.
Ferrari F12 Berlinetta: Molto Bene!
4:15 PM: Back on the Indian as the sun set. A ride back home to LA for about 200 miles round-trip qualified me for the iron keister award. But there was no time to suffer as we all piled into the massive juggernaut BMW for a freeway blast down to a previously-arranged classical music event (we are nothing if not well rounded). As for the Bimmer, suffice it to say there is nary a more creature-comfortable craft on the road today than the 750i xDrive. It’s like driving your living room, except that it corners better.
6:17 AM (Monday): A day off is technically 24 hours (or so), so we were up before sunrise the next day to pilot the F12 Berlinetta one last time before we had to return it to Ferrari. The aluminum-bodied supercar is everything you’d imagine it would be: fast and powerful and responding to steering input like a terrified intern. It takes quite a bit of driving to get used to the quick and ultra-precise steering, and so we drove it quite a bit, up Angeles Crest Highway to Newcomb’s Ranch and back.
Once you get past the crazed commuters coming from Palmdale, the road is empty, especially early on a Monday morning — and as they say, the devil makes work for empty roads. Or something. In any case, we more than love the F12. It is the modern interpretation of the great V12 Ferraris of ancient times: from the 166 Inter to the 375 America to the 410 Superamerica. So grand, so glorious, so time to return the car.
9:36 AM: And then it was over, and now I’m sitting here trying to write about that GD crossover SUV again. Gack.
“This zippy, peppy little torquester really cuts the mustard … aaaaahh!”
