The Vespa and The Harley
Chasing the Super Bloom
My brother drives a Harley Davidson. When he told me he and his girlfriend were headed south for the weekend, I asked if we could meet somewhere and go for a ride together. I drive a Vespa.
After teasing me about how he might lose his street cred should he be seen riding with a scooter, we started making plans. They were going to be in the L.A. area, and I live in south Orange County, so I suggested we meet somewhere on Pacific Coast Highway.
We thought for a few days. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to leave until about 11:30 in the morning — and that they needed to get back up north before too late — he suggested meeting somewhere closer to me.
“How comfortable are you riding that scooter now?” he asked.
“Pretty comfortable,” I said. “I still won’t get on the freeway, and Ortega Highway is a little sketchy.”
He lol’d. “That’s the ride I was thinking of taking you on, all the way to Lake Elsinore.”
For a Harley rider, California State Route 74, or Ortega Highway, is a highly sought-out route. It’s 111 miles long and runs west from San Juan Capistrano to Palm Desert in the east. It is known for its breathtaking views and curves through the mountains, forests, and parks.
It is also known as one of the most dangerous routes in California. Or, one of the most adventurous, depending on how you look at it.
I had driven part of it when I first got my scooter, but I got too nervous, and quickly turned around. It’s a two-lane highway, with sharp curves and steep drops, and some people like to drive faster than others. I was in the group who liked to drive slower. A LOT SLOWER. Something in my guts told me it would be different this time around.
“But I would do it with you!” I said to my brother. “I think it’s the way to a view of the Super Bloom, which I’ve been considering doing anyway.”
Right now, driving the 74 is also a great way to see the Super Bloom. I already had the thought that I might give Ortega another try this year, because the wildflowers are too compelling. We decided. It was a plan.
We met in San Juan Capistrano and ate lunch near the western end of the highway. After lunch, we geared up and set out in the cool air and warm sun.
My brother stayed close behind me, and as my guts had guessed, this time was different. I didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid or nervous. I didn’t feel any pressure. Probably mostly because he was protecting me. But I’m pretty sure my little scooter kicked some serious ass up and around that winding, climbing road.
We rode all the way to Lake Elsinore. I told my brother I wanted to get as close to the flowers as we could. When we got to a line of cars waiting to view the poppies, we quickly agreed to turn around and head back.
Seeing those wildflower-covered hills up close would have been wonderful, I’m sure. But I knew in an instant what was important. Getting closer to the flowers paled in comparison to what I had already been given, and we were only halfway through our ride.
On our way back, we stopped at Hell’s Kitchen Motorsport Bar & Grill. I parked my Vespa amongst the giants. None of the guys made fun of me. A few even complimented the scooter.
We sat and talked and chatted with some other bikers. I got my groove on to some music in the parking lot. Then we geared up again and set out for the last leg of the journey, back to San Juan.
While we rode back together, I couldn’t stop smiling. It was a beautiful day and I got to share something pretty extraordinary with my brother. The best part? As he gently helped me conquer my fear, his street cred grew exponentially.
