Amerivespa 2025 Recap

Vespa Club of Chicago’s Jason Eisenhut shares his experiences on the road to Portland, Oregon and back:

Sunday June 8th… so the long-anticipated day had arrived. The first day of my trip to see the West Coast. Even when I was an over-the-road truck driver, my company never really dispatched me that far west. In fact, the closest I ever got was the east side of Washington state, to the small city of Kennewick. So for the longest time, after I transferred to being a local driver, of the lower 48 states I never got to see California Nevada, Arizona, or New Mexico. Two yrs ago, Amerivespa was in Flagstaff, so I got to knock AZ and NM off my list, but that’s another story, that our Bryan Bedell already told. And yes, I still have a distrust of U-Haul.

But now, I was going to finish my list. I loaded up my Jeep, with Ka-bluey in its carrier and Izzy (my Calico cat) in her carrier, and headed off… to Chicago! Well, first I had to stop to meet up with Bryan to see his new workshop/club headquarters and get patches/stickers and the club flag….which he couldn’t find. He did find it later and had it FedEx-ed to my hotel. Then off to….Lombard to drop Izzy off with my best friend Rob, while I was on my trip.

OK, now I’m on my way! I drove through the Galena/Dubuque area to my first tourist stop, a farm field west of Mason City, Iowa where a plane crashed in 1959… a plane that carried the legendary Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper, piloted by a young, inexperienced, 21-year-old who was not yet trained to fly instrument-only in low visibility snow. Long ago, I was to make a delivery to a department store in Mason City, and spent the previous night at a truck stop in Clear Lake. In between, I passed by a small municipal airport and had a very eerie feeling I couldn’t explain. While my truck was being unloaded, I did some research and found out that airport was the last place the four men were seen alive.

At last I got to visit the site, see the memorials and tributes, pay my respects, and continue on. Fun fact: Mason City is the home of Merideth Willson, the creator of “The Music Man,” with a museum and his childhood home, and also a Frank Lloyd Wright-designed building that includes a small hotel and a former bank. Back on the road, I cut up into MN, then west into South Dakota, and spent the night… sleeping crouched in the back seat of my Jeep in a rest area. Just didn’t see the need to spend money for a quick 8-hour stay in a hotel.

At first light on the second day, I was back on the road on a day that was really, uh, uneventful actually. No planned visits, but there are beautiful natural sights along the interstate. I could’ve stopped at Mt Rushmore, but I have my own opinions about it. I cut through northwest Wyoming up to Montana, then continued west until darkness fell. I found another nice rest area and was back to sleep in the back seat.

I was up at first light on day three, and back on the road for a little while until I reached a planned fuel stop/shower break. My trucking company uses a specific truck stop chain for fuel, and I had accumulated $100 worth of points and free shower credits on my rewards card.I cashed in a free shower and picked up some more food for the road. 

Continuing west into Idaho, I spotted a sign “Transportation of Invasive Species Prohibited” and chuckled at the thought that it doesn’t include mankind. Oh well… It was a quick hour through the mountains of Idaho, then through Spokane into Washington. Next tourist stop: Rosslyn, WA. This is a real town that was used as the fictional setting of Cicely, Alaska for the show Northern Exposure. The buildings all are real, the mural still existed, Dr Fleishman’s office is now a gift shop, The Brick is still The Brick. I kind of wanted to stay and look around on foot, but I was also anxious to get to Seattle before rush hour, to board a ferry across Puget Sound to Bremerton. Still had to get through the Snoqualmie Mountains. Counting down the miles into Seattle, I kept expecting to see the city skyline, or at least the Needle. I drove across the pontoon bridge, through tunnels, exited the interstate, drove next to T-Mobile Park and Lumen Field trying to find my way to the ferry docks. I finally found the entrance, paid my $20 fare, and parked in the designated staging area. Twenty minutes later, the “Walla Walla” approached, docked, and unloaded. Then reloading began, starting with motorcycles.

Once onboard, it was now Ka-blueys fifth ferry trip since I owned it. Our own Sean McNamara borrowed it for the Vespa Club of Canada rally last year where it rode round-trip on one ferry, then I took it on two ferries while in St Louis a few months later.

The crossing was going to take an hour so I started looking around the Walla Walla, it had a huge indoor passenger area, but I went outside to the bow of the ship and at last got to take in the sight of the Seattle skyline including the Space Needle. Frankly, most of the newer buildings equaled the height of the Needle, so it wasn’t really that impressive.

Being in the Intermodal trucking business, I made my way to the other bow of the twin-hulled ship to see the container docks to the south. I looked down at the water only to see a gross sludge on the surface. “Ok, I’m not hungry anymore,” I said aloud, which caught the attention of a young blonde woman ten feet away from me. She saw what I was looking at and laughed. I wasn’t trying to break the ice, but what the hell, I’m only passing through, right? I’d seen her earlier riding a crotch rocket aboard. I asked her —  pointing to the tall mountain to the south — if it was Mt Rainier. After she confirmed, we started to chat. I admitted that I was just a tourist on a trip on my way to Amerivespa in Portland, blah blah, blah. Yeah, I’m a dork who rides scooters, oh well. She told me her name (which I cannot remember, damnit ) and when she offered, we shook hands and parted ways.

Later, I made my way down to the car deck as we were getting close to the designation. I saw her again sitting on her motorcycle, and noticed it was a BMW, so I told her about my BMW maxi-scooter. I teased her, asking if she’d had her bike up to 200mph. She laughed and admitted she had. But it was now time to split ways and deboard. I’ll admit I wished Ka-bluey was unloaded, so I could ride with her, trying to keep up. I drove off the ship, directly into a long tunnel that took us right into downtown Bremerton rush hour traffic. I passed the naval yard and saw several big Navy ships. I eventually made my way south, along the west side of Puget Sound, until I was back on the interstate. Two more hours and I was in Portland. And it was only Tuesday. My original plans had put me in town on Wednesday, but I had made up a lot of time and miles crossing the west with no issues, so I’d modified my reservation for the early arrival.

When I arrived at the hotel, they had yet to mark off the scooter parking area, but I parked near there anyway. I checked in and was given a room at the opposite end of the hotel from where the scooter parking was… Oh well. I moved my Jeep to the other side, next to the crew from Minnesota! I met Fred Finch and his Yamaha Morpheus. Later I would find out that his wife is Carolyn, the VCOA Vice President. I unloaded my luggage, got settled into my room and went out to pick up dinner from… Pizza Hut? Well, the locations around my home in northwest Indiana are all closed, there’s some kind of legal fight with the franchisee and headquarters.

After sleeping in, I got up, unloaded Ka-bluey and met VCOA President Josh and saw his new Sprinter van he’d mentioned in the newsletter. I’d thought he’d customized it for camping and transporting scooters, but it was just for transporting. He had 4 scooters in there! Two GTSs in the back, lengthwise, and two small frames in the middle, loaded crosswise. On my way to Portland, Carolyn, the Portland Vespa Club president, and I had been emailing each other, since I’d volunteered to be the chase vehicle for the first Thursday ride to Astoria and Tillamook. It was billed to be… well…  at first it was somehow 230 miles, then 250… 280… 300 miles? Too much for me on Ka-bluey, though possible on my BMW, which I didn’t bring. Anyway, they’d rented a U–Haul motorcycle trailer, so we picked it up and brought it back to the hotel. Then I took Ka-bluey out for a ride, fueled up, and out of curiosity rode to my company’s terminal in Portland.

I plugged in the address for The Vern, a bar on the near east side of downtown Portland for the Wednesday Meet and Greet. I got there a bit early, but scooters started arriving, filing up the street parking that was available. While admiring the other scooters, and taking pics, I started checking their plates, curious to see if I was the farthest traveled. Most were from California, Oregon, or Washington… a couple from Colorado… and then, a pair of Scoot Jockeys from Lake Geneva, Wisconsin! I didn’t know if I was happy or maybe disappointed… Happy in the sense to have someone else at least close to Chicago to commiserate with, but I also wanted to be furthest traveled. At a certain point, a “weird bike” parade passed by, and those of us outside all waved and cheered. They turned around and passed by again, allowing me to capture them all on video. As dusk settled in, I rode back to the hotel to be ready for the early group ride start the next morning.

Registration opened Thursday morning, and I got my swag. There was a choice of rides, but I most wanted to go to Astoria, the setting for movies such as Short Circuit, Kindergarten Cop, and, most importantly, The Goonies! I staged my Jeep with the trailer next to the scooter area, and Carolyn was there to give group riding instructions, then William Roberson, the ride leader, filled in the rest of the information. Fred Finch would be sweep, and I was behind him in the chase vehicle. At the first fuel stop, someone accidentally locked their keys under the seat. I got my tools out, and showed them how to remove the panel on the kickboard, to access the hidden lever to open the seat latch.

Back under way again, we crossed to the Washington side of the Columbia River, then continued west to a bridge that crossed back over the Columbia, directly into Astoria. The bridge started low, maybe only 20 feet from the water’s surface, but then went very high to allow the big ships to pass, then down a clever ramp directly into town.

We were given an hour lunch break and I went to find the Oregon Movie History Museum — it was really the prison from which the Fratellis escape at the beginning of The Goonies. In front of the building is the black Jeep Cherokee from the movie… wait… I have a (newer) black Jeep Cherokee! Even though I had to park in the street(with the trailer), I still managed to get a few front and back pics of both Jeeps together. I left a Vespa Club of Chicago sticker on the back of the sign next to the museum (next to other stickers including one from the Frickin Scooter Club). 

The group met up, but now someone had a flat tire. Fred Finch had a tire patch kit and portable air pump, so that was resolved quickly. We rode up several steep hills to the Astoria Column, a tower commemorating the location of a former fort. The hill overlooked the town, the whole harbor, and also the area where the Lewis and Clark expedition ended before returning east. As the group was departing, the guy with the flat tire asked if I had final drive oil. I quickly gave him whatever motor oil I had and we tried to catch up with the group. He disappeared, and I missed whatever turn the group made, so I met up with the group at Tillamook Creamery, the local ice cream factory. After another fuel stop in town, we returned to the hotel. There was another party, but we got a bit late, so I decided to unhitch the trailer, and rest for Friday.

For Friday, my ride choice was the Wheatland Ferry. I know, another ferry!? It was really mostly hilly wine country; pretty scenic despite the chilly, overcast day. Instead of starting from the hotel, we were to meet at a motorcycle-themed coffee shop (why does that sound familiar?) in the city, to start closer to the destination. Carolyn from Minnesota led this ride. We made our way out of town, through the suburbs southwest of the city. As we passed a temporary construction site, a rider to my left unknowingly clipped the last orange cone, and instead of simply deflecting away, the cone made a bizarre hop and rolled around behind him, in the path of the next rider. That rider was able to quickly brake and steer around it, as well as everyone else, so we continued on. We stopped in Dundee, OR, for a lunch break — I was amused because I grew up in West Dundee, outside Chicago. Back on the road, we crossed the fun, scenic hills of Oregon wine country. When we ran into a loose gravel road. I thought we made a wrong turn somewhere. Carolyn paused, but continued on. This wasn’t a packed dirt road with some loose stones in areas, it was 2-3 inches of loose gravel on top of this section of road.

Riders were all over the road, trying to find the path of least resistance, some spinning their tires. On one uphill stretch, I spotted an oncoming car coming over the crest, and stopped it, to allow us to use the full width of road to climb. About a mile later, I was never so grateful to see pavement again! Ka-bluey’s 6th ferry ride came a few miles later. It was a very short ride crossing a small river. It seemed like they just kept it for the tourists instead of just building another bridge.

Back into the city, we started splitting up. Some of us went back to the coffee shop and some went straight to the hotel. I rode past the intermodal train yard in the city, where containers that I’ve dropped off at the rail yard in Northlake, Illinois have made their way by train to Portland to be delivered by truck in the area.

There was another party that night, but I went to the President’s dinner on Bryan’s behalf. Josh handed out VCOA signet rings, which I passed along to Bryan. Before this party, I found Carolyn outside. She seemed frazzled, so I sat with her and found out after the group split up, a motorist informed her someone in our group was hit by a truck. She rode back to where it was reported, but didn’t find anything. She looked around the area, still nothing. She called 911, and they confirmed the location but gave no other info. After more searching, she gave up and continued to the dinner.

Saturday morning was the VCOA Annual General Meeting in the registration room. I attended because we were pitching to host Amerivespa in 2026, and Bryan was near Pittsburgh at the PVSC Band Camp scooter rally. He did manage to join the meeting over video, but I was there just in case. Minutes were read, budget was discussed, and Josh discussed passing the presidency to a new person next year. Then came the pitches. Mary from Portland, Maine went first, and put on a fine presentation. Questions were asked, then it was time for Bryan’s presentation. I remember he made a comment that Portland’s opening pic was a postcard, printed in Chicago. I so wanted to tell him not to be a snob privately, but oh well. [Editor’s note: I did a big research project about the Teich Postcard Company in Chicago a few years ago, and couldn’t shut myself up, ha!] More questions were asked, then time for the vote. To me the general consensus in the room leaned towards Portland Maine. They were chanting “lobster! lobster!” The votes came in… and we won! I later learned the vote came down 7-6 in our favor. There was the simultaneous feeling of excitement and “HOLY SHIT. WHAT HAVE WE GOTTEN OURSELVES INTO!? Well, internally anyway… It was agreed to keep this secret until the banquet, which I already knew from previous Amerivespas. It was weird having to hold this good secret all day. While this was going on, there had been a group ride to the local amusement park where there was a section of parking lot set aside for concours, gymkhana, vendors, and scooter parking. After the meeting, I rode there in time to see the concours and the slow race. I bought a couple of foam toy scooter stress balls for Sean and Renee. I had to quiet the child’s voice in my head singing “I know something you don’t know,” while I was there. When the events were over, we were invited to stay at the amusement park, but I chose for my own amusement to find some scenic local roads to ride back to the hotel instead, avoiding the simultaneous “No Kings” protests. I found Terwilliger Rd overlooking downtown on the west side and rode back to the hotel, and started getting ready for the banquet and packing to get back on the road the next day.

The Vespa Club of Chicago flag had arrived Thursday, so I’d stashed it away in a bag for the banquet, so as not to reveal the secret. On my way down, I spotted a woman who’d been riding with us, but she was on crutches. “Were you on the Wheatland Ferry ride with us?” I asked. She confirmed and we started to discuss what happened when I asked her to hold on, and found Carolyn making preparations for the banquet. “You are not going to believe who I just found” I told her.

I practically dragged Carolyn to find the woman on crutches, and introduced them. What really happened: another rider in front of her stopped suddenly for a stoplight they could have gone through. This woman didn’t have a good grip on the handlebar and it twisted on her causing her to go down. Other pedestrians, motorists and her husband on another scooter came to her aid. She sat on the curb while others picked up her scooter and her gear. She chose to limp her scooter back to the hotel with her husband and then went to emergency care. I’m not sure exactly what her injury was, but she couldn’t put weight on her hip. I was just glad to introduce them to help ease Carolyn’s mind.

Now the banquet had started, I sat with the Scoot Jockeys, and asked them to record video with my phone when the announcement was made. Dinner was served, then trophies. Furthest traveled ended up being someone from Washington DC. Then the announcement came: Amerivespa 2026 was announced and I was invited onstage, wearing my version of the club jumpsuit and held up the flag with Penny from VCOA. I remember blabbering about the host hotel, and Slaughterhouse 31 & Midwest Vespa Days, but I kept forgetting to talk into the microphone. I was asked to mention the dates of AV ’26, which I wasn’t sure were confirmed. [Editor’s Note: Amerivespa 2026 will be in Chicago on September 2–6 2026.]

Then it was raffle, raffle, raffle, pictures being taken, and people congratulating me and the club. I was suddenly feeling like the most popular person in the room for the first time in my life! It was an incredible feeling for a while. And then it was back to my room for rest, and to get ready for the road again.

Sunday I finished packing and checked out early. There was a goodbye party at the Vespa dealer in Portland, but I’d have to wait a few hours for it to start and I wanted to get on the road. I drove to McMinnville, to the Evergreen Aviation Museum, current home of the “Spruce Goose,” or the Hercules as Howard Hughes preferred. What I was not ready for was the Boeing 747 on the roof of the next building. Closer inspection revealed it was a kids waterpark, with slides running from the 747 down into the building.

I took a good look at the Spruce Goose, looked around the other exhibits, mostly military, bought some souvenirs and got back on the road to the coast. Technically, my first peek of the Pacific was Thursday on the way to Tillamook, but this was my real first look at it, and I really enjoyed the exhilarating views driving down the 101 along the coast into California.

I managed to get through Redwood National Park with my sunroof open before it got dark. I encountered some free roaming elk crossing the road on my way out.

An hour later, I found a peaceful place by the shoreline where others were camping, and climbed in the backseat again.

Monday, I went down to Sausalito, had lunch with my uncle, saw Alcatraz from the shore, drove up the hills above Golden Gate bridge, and then drove across the bridge itself. That was exciting until I realized the toll booths were unmanned. As I got on I-80 going back east, there was another toll bridge, also unmanned. Two weeks later, I’m still hoping for an invoice, and not fines. Heading back up through the mountains and into Nevada, I was able to cross Oregon, California, and Nevada off my list, I have finally visited all the lower 48 states and Ontario. I spent another night in the back seat.

Tuesday: eastbound and down! I crossed into Utah and realized I would be crossing the Bonneville salt flats. I joke about being from the flatlands, but this had us beat! I passed through Salt Lake City and took back roads towards Denver. While I had been in Denver before, I’d never been in the mountains to the west. I remember growing up assuming the “Mile High City” was up in the mountains, but nope, it’s on the edge of the plains, at the foot of the mountains. You can tell that early settlers crossed the plains until they reached this spot, and decided to stay there and sell supplies to others foolish enough to continue over the wall of mountains to the west. Anyway, I made it to I-70 and continued east through the mountains. There is a long 40-plus-mile descent into Denver and just when you see the city lights and you think you’ve arrived, a sign reads “Truckers, don’t be fooled, another 4 miles of downgrades.” I used the remaining credits on my gas card to book rooms for the last two nights of this trip.

Wednesday morning, I drove south, and my next destination, Pikes Peak, was in view. I arrived as crews were preparing for the upcoming Pikes Peak International Hill Climb. I exited the interstate into a solid traffic jam. There had been a rock slide recently, so the 4-lane traffic was forced down to 2 lanes.I made the turnoff for Pikes Peak highway, found a parking space, and unloaded Ka-Bluey. I’d bought my entrance ticket online that morning, and the website recommended having half a tank of fuel for the 19 mile journey up to the peak. I thought I had at least half a tank, but when it fired up, there were only two bars left on the gauge. Hey, it’s a scooter, right? I don’t need that much gas to go 19 miles……uphill…..right? I just need to coast downhill, and I don’t need the motor running to power the brakes, so I’m good there, right? Besides, I didn’t want to go back through the traffic jam — twice — to get more gas.

I’d seen snow on the peak earlier, so I wore my modular helmet and dressed as warm as I could. I rode up to the gate, showed my pass, and she asked if I had enough fuel. I lied, and I could swear she rolled her eyes, but she let me go anyway. The road started going up, with mile marker signs along the way. I passed a man-made lake that other tourists were playing in. About a third of the way, I passed under the starting-line arch built for the challenge, and the road leveled off a bit. I keep looking down at the gauge, and back up at the road, all while taking in the scenery. I passed a lodge with a small hut in the middle of the road, but I journeyed on, and up. Riding through more switchbacks and steeper climbs, you realize there are no more trees, just rocks. “But I want the trees, to keep me from falling all the way down the mountain!” “Right, don’t look down, except at the gas gauge.” Still 2 bars… I realize I’m holding the throttle wide open to reach 30 mph going uphill, and I could hear Chief Engineer Scotty in my head, “I’m giving it all she’s got, captain!” Instead of looking down, I looked for the road ahead, and tilted my head way back looking above me, seeing the passenger side of SUVs ahead of me. After another switchback I saw railroad tracks, and wondered if I should’ve just ridden the tram to the top? “No, this is way more fun!,” I say to my nervous, scared self. And then… traffic was stopped! Still 2 bars… dammit, move!

As it turned out, I was almost at the crest, and vehicles were maneuvering around each other looking for parking spaces. I rode over the crest and into the lot just as I hit one bar on the gauge. WHEW! I found a parking area for motorcycles and caught my breath. Some bikers were amazed Ka-bluey made it up, and frankly so was I, but not for the same reason! I asked one of the bikers to take a photo as I held our club flag next to Ka-bluey, beaming with pride.

I decided to check out the new modernist lodge at the peak. Entering from the lot, you see large picture windows looking out, and a wide stairway going down to the level below you. On that level you find bathrooms towards the back, a gift shop (with a very long line), and a cafeteria, then a museum on the other side of the stairs. It just kind of cheapened the thrill of being up there, making it more touristy. But speaking of thrilling, my heart still felt like it was racing. I couldn’t tell if it was the air up there or I was just still that excited, so I found a place outside to sit down and relax. After a while, I was relaxed enough to look around and read about Katharine Lee Bates, who climbed Pikes Peak in 1893 and was inspired to write “America the Beautiful.” “O beautiful, for spacious skies,” indeed! I chatted some more with some bikers, and then heard an announcement asking visitors to start making their way down to make room for those coming up .

I geared up, with my only regret being not bringing my cooler along, to pack some snow into. Ka-bluey fired up and we started making our way down. Riding the brakes hard, I eventually figured out that when you rev the motor a bit, it will engine brake to help slow you down.

Remember that hut in the middle of the road I mentioned earlier? There’s an employee there with a thermal scanner to check for overheating brakes. I was waved through, and I kept up the engine braking, and riding and releasing the brakes. Eventually I could feel the rear brake fading, but the front was holding up fine. Because of the engine braking, the gauge was now at zero, but the motor was still running! I coasted the rest of the way down, back to my Jeep. Trying to load Ka-bluey back in its carrier, I realized the rear brake was no longer holding the bike at all.

I loaded up again, and was back on the road to North Platte, Nebraska for my last night on the road.

Thursday, I allowed time for one quick stop in Omaha: when you cross from Iowa into Omaha on I-80, you’ll see 2 Union Pacific locomotives, an old steam Big Boy, and a diesel-electric Centennial, looking face to face. 

After visiting the trains, I continued on through Iowa, back into familiar Illinois, stopping for a welcome-back dinner with Rob at Portillo’s. I picked up Izzy and made it home to Indiana, around 10 at night. I drove 5,656 miles total for the trip, averaging 28mpg. (it would’ve been 14mpg with my trailer). I’d put another 150-ish miles on Ka-bluey. The weather was starting to warm up, so I fired up my air conditioners and went to sleep back in my own wonderful bed.

I am grateful for the experiences and the adventures of this trip, and I am grateful if you stuck around long enough to read all this.

Now, back to planning Slaughterhouse 31 & Midwest Vespa Days… and Amerivespa 2026!