Perfection?

[JustPassinThru_imp]

I have never driven a scooter, always wondered what it was like.


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It's...different. Imagine a La-Z-Boy, bolted to a cruiser motorcycle frame. Now, imagine that motorcycle had a snowmobile transmission - or, in the case of the Burgman 650, an auto-style CVT.

No clutch, of course. Your two grips both work brakes, the clutch hand working the rear. Nothing to do with your feet, except keep them on the floorboards.

Now, imagine - as with the Burgman design - this is a well-balanced road machine capable of 90. With ONE problem - no gas tank to hug. You're sitting ON a seat, not straddling a saddle with your knees on the tank.

If you can get used to the feeling you might slide off, it's fine. The tall windshield keeps most of the blast off your face. Machine is silent and powerful. A parallel twin with balance shafts. Capable of 100 mph, although with those smaller wheels I wouldn't recommend cruising there.

If a Harley-Davidson is one end of the spectrum, and the quiet CB1100 far away...it, the CB, is close to the center. At the opposite end are the maxi-scooters, the Silver Wing and the Burgman.

Everything a Harley is, a Burgman avoids - noise, exposed machinery, exaggerated fork rake. Everything a Burgman is, a Harley owner would reject - smooth, ghostly quiet, automatic, no user-serviceable parts. Or at least not without a manual, tools to remove the plastic, and lots and LOTS of patience. Roadside repairs are not advised - fortunately a Burgman is nearly as reliable as a BMW.

Mine was a Honda Elite 110. Not a maxi scooter by any means. It was a HOOT to ride. Lots of fun, but NO respect from car drivers. After getting passed by a dump truck on a double yellow line curve, I got rid of it. And yes, I was doing the speed limit.

Wish I still had it sometimes. Was great for runs to the grocery store.

That's funny. With the Burgman, I get no respect from cage jockeys, either...except they don't know what they're messin' with.

I don't drag as a rule, but it's funny to watch one of them confuse the Burgman with a bling-laden slow-as-steam-off-dung Chinese scoot...and try to blow past me. I'd just open it up a little harder, and frustrated, they'd step on it.

One area in my town in Wisconsin where this would happen was also a notorious speed trap. I'd get up to exactly the speed limit and back off. Car jockey would keep on mashing it...and would sometimes find himself braced by the minions of the law.