In February I moved to a new residence, trading my ample garage space for a villa on the beach. After wiping out on the street car tracks on Eastlake, I was fed up with the Frankenstella and left her at my friend’s house on Capitol Hill. I wasn’t in the mood to relocate her to my new place, braving the Alaskan Way viaduct on a scooter that I couldn’t keep upright. At least not until the weather cleared up. So Celeste shivered under her tarp for the better part of two months.
Then all of a sudden, spring! So Jett accompanied me across town to liberate the Frankenstella from her winter cover and bring the poor girl home.
The Frankenstella has needed new tires forever. The Zippy 3’s she was wearing had decent tread, but they were really old and most of the time I felt like I was riding on wet glass. Before I took ownership of her, she sat in storage for years. The result was petrified tires that looked fine but were hard, cracked, and decidedly un-sticky.
I couldn’t afford new tires and the inevitable labor charge of having them mounted since I was without a garage. I complained liberally to Jett. With superhero cape flying, she volunteered two tires, a garage, hydrolic lift, and a husband.
Jett’s Fireball Stella came with two spare Zippy 3’s which she wasn’t currently using. Her hubby Russ had recently changed the tires on the Fireball, so he was up for showing the two of us how to do it. I saw the perfect opportunity for a meaty how-to article, and Jett charged up her new video camera. Russ even wore his Stella shirt for the occasion. The visuals and details are forthcoming. But suffice it to say, the Frankenstella is now a whole new scooter!
It’s funny (but not ha-ha funny) to think this whole time it may have been the tires. I mean, that scooter was just NOT FUN to ride most of the time. Especially after dumping her numerous times, I’d totally lost trust in her. Riding on eggshells. After slapping on the new tires, she rides like an absolute dream. I hesitantly took her out of Jett’s garage and onto the street, and then got so excited that I proceeded to drag race down California Ave., a Chesire cat grin plastered across my face.
The new rubber and rekindled trust comes at a good time; the GTS is having a full electrical meltdown and is totally malfunctioning. Apparently, the brakes and ignition wires are crossed. More on that after I take her in to the shop tomorrow, assuming she does not spontaneously combust.