FAQ
Q: What is that?
I am riding a 2009 Vespa GTS 250. It’s descended from the classic Vespa, but with more comfort. It has a 244cc, 4-stroke, fuel-injected, liquid cooled engine. It’s dual disc brake and shiftless CVT – a modern marvel in a monocoque frame. No oil and gas mixing, no shifting (I miss shifting), no fiddling with the carb. Power of a small motorcycle, parking with the mopeds, rides like an exceptionally nimble couch.
I call her Serenity, and chose her custom blue color.
Q: How fast does it go?
The rev limiter kicks on just past an indicated 90mph. I believe the speedo is 10-15% off. It keeps up and I’ve heard people hold it all day at WOT without hurting the engine, but I tire of getting beaten up by the wind at high speeds.
Q: Do you need a license?
Yes. A license to kill.
…Okay, yes you need a motorcycle license. In Rhode Island, you’re required to complete the regular driver’s test for a driving license, and then a motorcycle safety course for your motorcycle endorsement. It covers the same topics as the MSF safety course and was great fun. I felt more confident on a bike afterward.
I ride both motorcycles and scooters, but this blog generally centers around my Vespa travels.
Q: What is your range, mileage, and cruising speed?
The GTS has a two-gallon tank, and with typical use (for me) gets around 70mpg. On the Blue Ridge Parkway, going around 45-50mph without stops, I consistently hit 80mpg. On the interstates, maintaining 70mph, in heavy traffic, or with a strong headwind on wide open ground, I see closer to 60mpg.
If I run it dry I should be able to get 140 miles to a tank, but I start looking for gas around 100 miles. In more remote areas, I carry a spare gallon gas can with a little Sea Foam in it or a couple of Fuel Friend canisters strapped under the topcase.
I like to cruise around 55-60mph, but it depends. On straight open stretches, I find the needle at 80 more often than I like to admit.
On an ideal day, I aim to cover between 100-200 miles – just enough to feel like you’re getting somewhere without spending all day in the saddle.
Q: What/how do you pack?
Before setting off, I was always curious about how and what others packed. Now that I’ve been on the road for years I realize my pack is constantly evolving. It changes with climate and rotates as luggage wears out. Here’s a diagram from 2014, but my things have moved around a bit. Here’s a post about setup for Alaska. I’m working on another post that will get more into the basic shape of how I arrange things on the GTS, what type and how much clothing I bring, etc. Stay tuned!
Q: Where do you stay?
Now that it’s been years since I set off, I move much slower. When Fred and I were in a relationship, I aimed to spend summer with him in Cambridge, MA. For other extended stays (a month or longer), I found myself with family, close friends, or a longterm discounted Airbnb. When covering distance, I do a quick Google search for hostels and campgrounds, hit up ADVtentspace, freecampsites.net, Couchsurfing.com (here’s my profile!), and also Airbnb.com.
In the US, I used the National Parks Annual Pass when I was covering a lot of ground (you can purchase one here or when you walk up to any of the national parks).
Over the pandemic, I built out a Sprinter van and park it on BLM land, campsites, RV parks, and friends’ driveways along the west coast (affectionally called “moochdocking”).
Q: Do you carry tools?
Yes! Here’s a breakdown of my GTS tool roll.
Q: What do you do in the rain?
Put on gear and keep riding. Or wait. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
The frequency of this question always puzzled me. Sometimes you have the luxury of a joyride, sometimes you just go regardless.
Q: How did you start riding?
Hey, I have an old post about that. Another way to put it: Bicycling around Providence wasn’t quite enough, but a car meant payments, insurance, and service for something I didn’t want or use for much more than going to my martial arts school and picking up groceries. But a scooter… One Wednesday night I saw the local scooter club tearing down the street and thought, “I could do that.” The idea receded into the background for years, until my local scooter shop was liquidating (RIP Javaspeed). I bought a red 50cc Genuine Buddy up front. From there, it was a rapid descent down the rabbit hole.
Q: Are you independently wealthy/are you a teacher?
Nope, and you don’t have to be to travel. I work as a freelance illustrator for children’s books, and I happened to be at a point when I had a more relaxed schedule and decided to take my work on the road. I also reduced my belongings and packed them into storage. The gist is that instead of paying rent, I pay for campgrounds and bike maintenance.
I must admit, I’ve been lucky in my illustration career. I take odd jobs as they come, but the large chunk sums from book advances (and subsequent habit of budgeting) has been the most reliable funding for this trip. It’s an ever-present worry for the day book money dries up, but it was like that before I hit the road.
Also, I count myself extraordinarily fortunate to find support in family (available in emergencies), friends, and friends made along the way (especially on ADV forums). I ride alone a lot, but I don’t feel like I travel alone. The generosity and stability of other people has been a huge part of the journey. I daresay it would be impossible without you guys!
Q: Isn’t it lonely/scary traveling alone?
See above!
As a freelancer of several years, I both like and am very used to the freedom of making my own schedule. I have been described is fiercely independent. But in all fairness, sometimes I think it would be nice to share the day-in-day-out with a travel partner. On long rides, I hold many people in my thoughts. So yes, I do feel lonely sometimes, it just isn’t enough to stop me. I’m happy exploring and letting paths cross for a while. Also, I share my experiences here online, and have met many people to share the journey with just by posting.
Regarding scariness, I like to think there are two kinds of fear. There’s blind, irrational, and paralyzing fear. And there’s fear that sharpens your senses, makes you check twice, and weigh the risks and consequences. Fear isn’t inherently negative, it can spur you to evaluate a situation more closely.
So yeah, it’s lonely and scary. It really sucks is when I get hurt or sick. It’s just a tradeoff I accept because it’s also awesome, amazing, beautiful, heartwarming, and a million other feelings in the human emotional spectrum.
Q: Do you feel your martial arts training helps with fear?
There’s a difference between martial arts training and combat training. I’ve accumulated many years of study in Shaolin Kungfu, Muay Thai, and most recently Brazillian Jiu-jitsu. Self-defense and fitness are part of those curriculums, but mostly I like it because it’s a lifestyle works for me, not because I’m preparing to fight. Perhaps that does give me an uncommon level of familiarity with my own physical abilities, but it’s not the only way to find confidence or manage fear. Much like my bike I’m regularly underestimated, so I watch carefully for other warning signs long before I find myself in a situation where I need to rely on martial arts. I simply don’t want to make that call. As always, your mileage may vary.
Q: But a single young girl needs to be careful out there!
That’s not a question. Also, this attitude is a disservice to good people I meet along the way. It’s difficult to articulate why this rubs me the wrong way without using hot-button phrases, but I’m going to have a crack at it.
Some people are amazed I do this “as a woman”, to which my first thought is, “How the fuck else would I do anything, if not as exactly who I am?” Putting aside my knee-jerk reaction to defend my competence and position in life, I realize it’s not necessarily a question of others doubting my ability but about perception. For example, a solo male traveler would be received differently, have different opportunities available, but also suffer different stigmas. A solo female traveler, however, is unlikely to be considered a potential threat and more likely to inspire the urge for protection. Gender may be an unimportant marker to me but the world is quick to remind me that I operate in a gendered world.
Dangers from inappropriate presumptions are real, and many women have faced their share without even leaving home. This article (despite its cringeworthy title) sums up the dilemma female travelers face in what is arguably a man’s world. To paraphrase: Having adventure requires the traveler to say yes, but society dictates that for her safety, women need to say no. Solo travel is entirely possible (as proved time and time again), but safety can sometimes look like a more ‘underdog’ approach depending on your context; gender, race, age, size, and other visible markers. For that matter, it’s too simple to write off my boldness as a direct function of my background in martial arts – if anything, it merely illuminates what is beyond my abilities, and where I need to take up the slack with other travel skills. Think traits like observation, character judgement, awareness, and effectively sizing up a situation.
In the end, I can only move through the world as the person I am. I assume as much risk as I’m comfortable with, and share the story from my perspective. If you find it disagreeable, you can navigate someplace else. Is it more difficult to navigate a defacto-male world due to the blindness that male privilege affords? Some would say so. Is having a definitive answer going to make me feel better, like it’s some sort of difficulty quest and Nah nah nah it’s harder for me? No? Then zero fucks are given.
People are quick to make all sorts of assumptions, and almost always it’s a reflection on their past experiences, not me personally. Just ask, and actively listen when people speak about their lives. I firmly believe humans have more in common than they think at first. It’s called humanity, and it’s shared across divides in gender, race, religion, sexuality…all the differences you can think of. Besides, variance adds color and spice, how boring it would be to all be the same.
Overwhelmingly, strangers have been exceptionally kind, if not slightly befuddled at this whole undertaking. People are—dare I say it—generally good. I don’t operate under the belief that I’m a victim, or bait on two wheels. So far humanity has supported my case. Big thumbs up for humanity!
Whew, that was a long answer.
Q: What inspired you to take the trip?
There are a number of books I read that fanned the flames of wanderlust.
Q: Sure, books, by why are you doing this?
The complicated question. I guess, Why not? isn’t quite going to cut it.
When I found riding, I found something that resonated deeply with me. The freedom and independence of extended and long distance travel was especially engaging. The only thing I really didn’t like was the return trip. It always seemed like an unfortunate inevitability, like being gassy after eating edamame (is that just me?). Then it crossed my mind, what if I just don’t come back? I felt like I’ve completed Level: Providence already, what if I took a trip where I just kept going? How can I make that happen?
And thus, my quest was born.
Q: Where are you ending up/Are you going back to Rhode Island?
That presumes there’s a clearly defined “end” but it’s safe to say I’m not settling back in RI.
Aside from just a love for riding as a means of exploring the world, I think there wasn’t much left for me in Providence. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great town and I reflect fondly on my time there, but if I’m going to get a bit personal here… in the 7 years I lived there, I already found everything I wanted from Providence. I supported myself in a 2-bedroom apartment, where I turned the second bedroom into my work studio. I learned the domestic game, and made it a comfortable nest. The apartment came with a great, structurally sound, clean, locking garage (a gem in New England), which housed my bikes, tools, and accessories. In my neighborhood, I was within walking distance of anything I could need in case of bad weather – post office, groceries, pharmacy, banks, cafes, even the train and bus stations to get out of town. I made friends and boyfriends, and was involved in roller derby and martial arts communities (I miss them all!). I could have coasted for years, accepting whatever books came my way, training in hopes of a match that may never happen, riding within a 400-mile radius in good weather, fleeing to Hong Kong in winter, and complaining about the same things year after year. The same variations on a theme, a holding pattern in a little city.
So, obviously, I had to explode it. My current job is deliberately location independent. I’m able-bodied, debt-free, land-free, spouse-free, kid-free (even pet-free since Wicket went to the big Habitrail in the sky in Feb 2014). Scoot is running great. The time was now, or quite possibly never. Kick complacency to the curb!
I hope this will become a new theme. Now I can complain about new things!
Q: Where is home for you?
Most people think of home as a place, but it can be much more than that. You can be at home with certain people, or in an action doing certain things. I feel at home on the mats at the gym, and behind the handlebars of my bike. I also count myself fortunate to have many homes around the world, with many good people. Yeah, I keep a storage unit and a few boxes here and there, but maybe it’s most helpful to think of home as where you are most yourself.
Q: Where does the name 250 Superhero come from? Isn’t that a bit inflated?
My first scooter was a Genuine Buddy 50, and a friend joked that with all the martial arts I was into I was like a “50cc Superhero.” My old Tumblr account is still kicking around with some old autobiographical comics under the name 50cc Superhero. Admittedly the contrast of pint-size displacement and superpowers became less humorous when I upgraded to my GTS 250, but I kept the naming scheme.
I generally don’t walk around feeling like a superhero. If I have any superpowers, it’s the ability to be really uncomfortable for extended amounts of time.