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Scooterer Stories
By Louis the Scooterer

The travels of Louis the Scooterer, a retired former South African who has found an unusual way of getting to know Israel.

Part Ten – Not Route 66, just Route 6, but at least there’s an Elvis.

Driving thru major cities and heavily populated areas do have some interesting places, but I reckon boredom could set in…so a quick discussion with myself, it is decided we will bypass those places and head toward Jerusalem and bypass to road 90 at the north end of The Dead Sea…and then will head NORTH ON 90. Then to much more exciting places. So now, I take the shortest route and get to Highway 6 (Kvish 6) to experience a short portion of that excellent highway.

I wrote a story elsewhere about that experience and its worth repeating here while we stop for a while at Herzl Forest and a quick visit to Engineering Forces Monument ( the highway story is told to you now while we take a coffee break…on the lawns at the monument.

Kvish 6 = Highway 6

Once, way back in the past – when I was still new to scootering – I remember vaguely having read something about an “Across Israel” (Highway 6) that was being built to be called Kvish 6. Then sometime later I read a sentence somewhere that the first 18 kilometers were ready and would be opened on some date or other. So, one day while scootering around, I came upon a road that was freshly tarred and was newly painted with pure white lines (being a new onramp >>> onto a new road).

So I asked a man in a van, “what is happening here?” He told me that Road 6 would be opening — in about 10 minutes, and IF I hung around I would be the first person to drive on it! About 10 minutes later, he told me to go!

The FIRST motor vehicle on the new highway was “me on my scooter”, going south…. no fanfare, no fuss, no cutting ribbons (this onramp was near Eyal Kibbutz. I rode those 18 kms on this beautiful, clean, smooth, well-built road with absolutely NO TRAFFIC. Later, one car went past me, and also an official “Road 6” patrol van.

So, all too soon I rode that 18 kms and went off at the new off ramp pointing to Rosh Ha’ayin, and rode to a coffee shop at a petrol station to drink a cup of coffee.

Then, about 30 minutes later, I decided to do the 18 kms going north….

NOW, this gets interesting… coz the new onramp is at the Head Offices of Kvish 6, and here was a big media event, TV people with cameras, newspaper people with cameras, many people with cameras… (except me, I never had a camera). There was a big party going on at the offices.

Many important dignitaries attended the “official opening”, and the “first drive,” which is from the office block going north — to the Eyal off ramp ~~> 18 kms.

I scooted in to the parking area and a woman ran up to me telling me “to get on the bus quickly, it’s waiting for me” (she thought I was a reporter from a newspaper). I soon sorted that out. So, I went into the lobby at the offices, a very posh affair with many people wearing suits.

I was given an orange juice and a cookie and a couple of maps, then someone told me I must leave… So a few minutes later I scootered on to the new 6 going ~~> north.

I noticed a few buses, many cars and vans and other vehicles were following me… as though I was the escort. After a short distance, all those vehicles overtook me and I guess I was at “the right-place at the right moment.”

I have since traveled several times on this beautiful, well planned, well built, well looked after, Kvish 6 highway, and also recently completed, now has two new twin filling-station-rest-rooms-shopping-complex on BOTH sides of the highway…. one way down south and the other up north. IT IS A DRIVING PLEASURE.

So I say…”Well done” and keep on adding new sections, and every time a new section was completed, I took a scoot to ride on it. The costs for a scooter are very little and I always feel safe riding on clean, litter-free roads. And all my trips have been in daylight hours.

A couple of times there were queries about the account that I received, but they were always solved by very pleasant personnel. I learned that much of the processes are automatically done to completion by computers, and the bill is clear and straightforward.

We need to squeeze a couple of hours visit to MINI ISRAEL…worth every minute and much more…all the model buildings and buses and trucks and soccer stadium and ports and cable-cars…and everything in Israel that is major importance is there in miniature….no problem with parking at the entrance, and obtaining a small electric golf cart to travel around in…Mini Israel is open on Saturdays, and is usually crowded so if you can manage during the week…better still.

Another couple of hours minimum is a must visit to the Armoured Brigade Military Museum at LATRUN where all sorts of armoured vehicles and tanks and many assorted vehicles of war that were captured from the enemies..during several wars. Pay an entrance fee and get some brochures, a movie in English explains and knowledgeable guides take you around and explain many things. (CLOSED ON SATURDAYS)… altho many captured vehicles can be seen if you drive a few hundred meters on the side road to the end of the fence. As usual, walking shoes and cameras always.

A short visit to the Monastery close by and a visit inside if you like climbing many steps…some days there are open air markets and food kiosks in the carpark.

Of course plan your day to visit NEWE SHALOM, close to Latrun, a neighbourhood where Israeli and Arab live side by side. A quick stop at the hotel lobby for some good brochures and then take a slow drive (or even a walk) through the streets and see what can be achieved.

Then we kadimah (move forward) coz our new journey has only just begun.

We pick-up route #1 and head toward Jerusalem..and at junction at Abu Ghosh we make a detour and head for ELVIS INN…this delightful restaurant that remains furnished in Elvis Presley times and hundreds of photos on the walls are a reminder as we sit at a table with Elvis Presley, and his music is always in the background. Excellent service from a small snack to a full meal, and if you drink a coffee, you get to take the mug as a souvenir.

I must mention the incredible toilets that cater for many tour buses that stop there. Outside in the carpark are many Elvis reminders including a magnificent “gold” statue of “The King Of Rock n Roll)..this is a “must” visit.

As we may start our day very early and finish very late, I’m not suggesting sleeping time but for the record I have slept over several times at Yitzchak Rabin Youth hostel…which is nicely placed for restaurants and for leaving the city without being snarled in traffic.

So, after Elvis Inn we stay on #1 and travel east til we get to #90…with a few short stops on the way to take pictures. 6 stops for 5 minutes each should be enough….you will decide what pics you want,
and at the end of #1 we coffeesnack at the same place we were at on an earlier time. We look at our mapatlas and plan our trip north on #90.

(Very much more exciting than driving thru built-up areas surrounded by highrise buildings and shopping malls).

Louis the Scooterer is 69 years old and it sounds like he’s just getting started.

By Dan Hall

Propagandaville – a quaint little town with white picket fences, nuclear families, neighborhood schools, and friendly salespeople who’ll be as nice and polite as possible so long as you’re shelling out money to buy their wares. Yes, in Propagandaville, money is king, and snake-oil peddlers abound, pushing their products onto unsuspecting people all in the name of health.

News of Human Growth Hormone or HGH has flooded the television and print advertising market in the past decade. Claims that HGH will retard the aging process, boost your sex drive, build muscle mass, help trim fat, cure depression, make you more intelligent, and cause you to feel better and healthier are ever-present in the media. But are these claims accurate? Is HGH therapy truly the new elixir of youth, or are the claims unsubstantiated, inaccurate, and just plain wrong?

HGH research has been occuring since as early as the 1960s, perhaps even earlier. HGH isolated from human pituitary glands is often used therapeutically to treat people with growth hormone deficiency, which could easily lead to reduced muscle mass and bone density. Of course, a true deficiency in growth hormone is not normal; it can be caused by a variety of factors, including hypopituitarism, tumors of the brain, and so
forth. Traditionally, people who need HGH treatment visit endocrinologists and do not purchase their HGH from infomercials.

Truthfully, HGH no longer exists, as scientists have stopped using true Human Growth Hormone and now market synthetic growth hormone. People claiming to sell HGH are not truly selling Human Growth Hormone but a synthetic blend that could very well be anything! Chances are, what is being sold is nothing more than amino acids or proteins wrapped in a neat little package. Unless you have a true GH deficiency and are willing to be diagnosed by an endocrinologist, you’re most likely wasting your money on mass-marketed HGH.

What’s frightening about all of this is that HGH does have its side-effects–ones that are rarely if ever mentioned on television. Diabetes, a gross enlargement of the nose and other facial features, a thickening of the skin and connective tissue, an increase in muscle mass but not strength, nerve damage, joint pain, certain cancers, edema, and other symptoms have been reported after prolonged use of commercial HGH. This is not something to be taken lightly, for it can very well have a negative effect on your health.

Homeopathic HGH (which is sold in small dosages) may actually live up to some of the hype, but only because the dosages are small enough to affect a change but not significant problems. Muscle mass may increase, skin may appear healthier, and energy may rise–in part due to the pituitary gland producing more natural GH as a side-effect–but these are all temporary effects. The true causes of aging have little to do with a lack of HGH and more to do with a lack of nutrition and/or an overabundance of toxins lodged within the joints and tissues. HGH can only add to these problems, not solve them.

Longevity cannot be found in a pill. A life-transformation is required to slow, stop, and perhaps reverse the aging process. Changes in diet, thought process, activity, and other areas of life are all necessary to remain young and live a long, healthy life. Pills, powders, shakes, oils, and other products will never replace true healthy living. And until we, as a society, can embrace the natural laws that will keep us healthy, we will continue to look for the next great wonder drug, thereby fueling the informercial conglomerates well into the future.

Dan Hall is a teacher and author living in Georgia. He is the author of the book Neohygiene. Visit him on the Web at http://www.neohygiene.com.

By Mike Marino

The British Are Coming! The British Are Coming!

Those madcap ale drinking, pub hopping bloody Brit Redcoats ain’t just figments of the imagination Mate! Nor are they strangers in a strange land to the landscape of American history. Over 200 years ago, a perplexed Paul Revere rode deep into the bosom of the dark of the midnight countryside to warn of imminent peril and invasion by the forces of King George, by George!

In due time, another George, ours, who went by the name of Washington, took careful aim for the royal jewells, gave them a swift kick in the royal cahones, and sent them packing north to Canada, eh, and back across the big pond to Jolly Olde England. The Americans, now victorious in revolution, would not fear nor suffer another British Invasion ever again…well, that is until the British Invasion of Mods, Rockers and Pop Culture hit our shores like a behemoth tidal wave with a rock n’ roll backbeat in the 1960′s!

Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!

The Fab Four…The Rolling Stones…The Who! Who? British Music and moptop haircuts sucker punched American youth culture with powerful pop culture blitzkrieg and brought it to it’s sociological knees with a style of dress and a new code of conduct that would propel us into a whole new universe. A pop universe of James Bond, shaken, not stirred. Carnaby Street and Mary Quant, Dusty Springfield, Mods Aplenty and Pussy Galore. We were high on hiked up mile high mini-skirts and jazzed on jacked up go-go bootsl. Our hearts pumping in overdive, and without question, London proved, once and for all, that indeed, England swings like a pendulum do!

John, Paul, George, and Ringo, the Four Horsemen of the Beatles Apocalypse, made an indelible impression on all of us, similar to a tire iron being raked across the skull of some hapless victim in a dark alley in Detroit. However, it was an unlikely little motoring machine that not only came to personify that era more than anything else, but also flexed t’s design muscle and became a major bonafide pop icon. A chrome-magnon pop star in it’s own right with a cult following to match that of the Grateful Dead. That major, was a mini. A Morris Mini to be exact.

The red-dread, dread-of-Red ideological ice age that defined the meltdown nuclear Cold War era had produced a politicaly unstable behemoth of a glacier that was advancing and laying waste to everything in it’s path. That same instability would eventually knock stability off it’s pedestal and produce a plethora of petrol panic at the gas pump. The growing, out of control crisis in the Suez Canal region in the later part of the decade was to become the bravo-British-bravado version of the shootout at the OK Corral in the American Wild Child Wild West. This time those madcap Earp’s and Clanton’s were replaced by mysterioso shrouded-in-mystery Egyptians and pip-pip-cheerio stiff upper lip and all that Brits. Plain and simple, the sixshooter of oil consumerism had run out of bullets, and gas rationing, once again, was becoming a British way of life.

Clearly, a petrol saving, more miles to the gallon messiah of a car was needed to meet this crisis headon and to preach the gasoline gospel, and it was the vehicular virgin birth of a BMC classic that rose to the challenge. In 1952, two separate motor companies, Austin and Morris, merged in a marriage of metal to form the British Motor Corporation. BMC raced to meet the design needs of the growing gas crisis, and by 1958 had test driven and sent to production the design that would come to symbolize British Culture in the 1960′s.

The underwraps mini wonder wagon was unleashed in 1959 in two separate versions. The Austin factory in Longbridge gave birth to the Austin Seven, “The Incredible Austin”, while the Morris plant in Cowley delivered the Morris Mini, “Wizardry on Wheels”. Both destined to evolve into the singular, all powerful and rally race fashionable Mini-Cooper by 1961.

Power and muscle were not hallmarks of the original design under the motor meister, Sir Alec Issigonis. Born in Turkey in 1906, Issigonis went to work at Morris Motors in 1936 after studying engineering in his new adopted homeland, England. His idea was simply to design a car that was safe for the public and affordable for the masses, following in the footsteps of the vehicular visionary, King Henry the Ford, and his immensly popular Model T, and also the popular German Volkswagen. According to legend, the original sketch of the Mini design was drawn on a restaurant table cloth.

The Mini, at first was merely a “housewifes car” fit only for toodling to the grocery or scooting about town. In 1961 it got a high performance injection of John Cooper vroom and zoom, and it was, not only off to the races, but also well on it’s way to becoming the fashion accessory of the decade! The Mini sold a respectible 20,000 units in 1959 B. C. (Before Cooper), but by mid decade in 1965 it had topped the 1,000,000 mark milestone for units sold!

John Cooper had a formidable background in high performance motoring. Born in 1923, John and Cooper, Sr. formed the Cooper Car Company in the aftermath and shadow of WWII, and by 1948 were building serious rear engine racing monster mo-sheens. The 1950′s were the definitive age of the Chrome-magon. Racing was taking the world by the short hairs, and Cooper & Co. were making machines that were leading the perfomance pack on the racing circuit and in short time made it the must have car of the speed loving motoring public. John had already made a high octane impact on the autoworld, but the heavy metal planets were all in perfect alignment, and the best was yet to come when he put his expertise to work on the marvelous Mini. It was from this fornication of form and design that the pre-eminent rally sportser of the times would emerge…The Psychedelic Petroleum Prince of the Proletariat…The Legendary Mini Cooper!

The decade of the 1960′s saw the super duper Cooper take on and kick asphalt in a variety of key races that proved her metal once and for all. The Mini Cooper won consecutive Monte Carlo Rally’s, the Tulip Rally’s in ’62 and ’64, the Alpine Rally in ’63 and 25 other prestigious races out and about the European continent. The original Cooper’s came with a 4 speed tranny, go from 0-60 in 12.9 seconds, 0-100 in 20 seconds and best of all, got an amazing 30 MPG! Racing Coopers however, along with the pedigree led a hard life on the circuit and many had to be reshelled continually.

The Cooper also had a low center of gravity for cornering, and the Cooper S of 1963 – 1967 had wider wheels than a stock Cooper. The Rally Rear Package came with straight through exhaust, mini lite wheels, roll bar, twin fuel tanks and a lightweight stick on lisence plate. Other inclusions where woodrim moto-lita steering wheel, Halda trip meter, tachometer, stop watches, map light and a fire extinguisher!

Mods needed rods and that damn little Cooper fit the bill and soon anyone who was anyone was sporting a Mini Cooper, from The Beatles to Peter Sellers. Michael Caine even drove one into the realm of fame and infamy in the film “The Italian Job” in 1969. The Mini Cooper was king, and as anyone knows, it’s good to be the King!

As the Psychedelic Sixties began to fade away in a bag of seeds and stems, there were efforts afoot (Gadzooks!) to kill the little Mini beastie, but it kept selling in spite of those efforts. Cries of “It’s Alive” could still be heard loud and clear at the car dealerships and showrooms, as the resiliant little creature refused to go down without a fight. Until the ’80s.

As the decade of “Me” dawned on the horizon the Mini began to decline into it’s own sunset on the automotive horizon, but a new company that was now producing the Mini was trying to keep itself afloat on the horsepower ocean and not sink like the ill-fated Titantic. That company, Rover, came out with themed editons to tap into the reigning motherlode of nostalgia and by 1990 Japan was eating them up like Godzilla beast-feasting on nuclear power plants!

Sir Alec passed on to piston paradise in 1988 and John Cooper crossed the quarter mile into horsepower heaven in the year 2000 at the age of 77. In 1994, Rover was acquired by BMW and today they produce and export three different models to the motoring masses. It might be a Mini but you can’t judge a book by it’s cover…the Mini Cooper Slogan sums it up best…

“You Don’t Need A Big One To Be Happy!”

Mike Marino is a freelance writer of Pop Culture and Travel and also a published author of “The Roadhead Chronicles Book”

The Roadhead Chronicles Book

http://community.webtv.net/roadheadthree/book

Contact:
dharmabumroadie@yahoo.com

By Nick Dao

My trip to China to see The Great Wall was going to be in August of 1999, but then I caught a news clip on CNN broadcasting how China was getting ready to throw a birthday bash in September to commemorate its 50th Anniversary under the communist rule. The news clip said there would be parades and other joyous festivities! While I certainly would never be one to celebrate the joys of communist living, I was curious as to what the celebrations would be like. I postponed my trip for one month and flew to Beijing in September.

There were a lot of celebrations all right. There was a grand parade down one of the main boulevards, and there was a flowery and elaborate show of pageantry inside The Forbidden City. The celebrations would have been a sight to behold, if only I could have seen those sights for myself.

When I was walking down one of the crowded, main boulevards to see one of those grand parades, I ran smack into a wall of soldiers blocking my path. At first, I thought they were a part of the parade that hadn’t yet joined in with the procession. I thought they would soon be marching and moving, so I waited for them to move, but they stubbornly just stood there. My impatience was getting the better of me. I tried to go around them, but they had blocked the road so that there was no getting around them. Those uniformed soldiers with their rifles in hand had separated the parade from the crowd.

What was going on, I wondered? I wanted to ask someone about the soldiers, but I don’t speak Mandarin. I looked around and saw a Caucasian guy who was standing idly by at the side of the road. He didn’t look nearly as perplexed as I was and seemed to have a grasp on the situation. I walked over to him and said a slow, “Hello,” while hoping he was an English speaker.

“Hi,” he said with a smile.

His vernacular greeting instantly told me he was American, and I felt relieved we wouldn’t have to talk in broken English. “What’s going on here,” I asked him. “I’m trying to see the parade, but those soldiers are blocking the way.”

“They’re keeping out the public,” the guy informed me. “You have to be some sort of a VIP to get past the soldiers and see the parade.”

I wrinkled my brow and spouted out, “You’re kidding me! You have to be a special somebody to see a parade?”

The guy smiled ruefully then sighed out loud, “Believe it or not.”

I thanked him for the explanation and walked away shaking my head. When I saw that news clip on CNN about the festivities to commemorate the 50th Anniversary of the Communist Party, I had automatically assumed the parade would be for anyone and everyone, just like it was in the USA. Little did I know that in a communist country, you would have to be special somebody in the government or the army to stand by the side of the road and watch a parade.

I meandered away from the parade that I didn’t get to see and headed over to The Forbidden City. If I couldn’t see a parade, I thought, then I could at least see the historical site of The Forbidden City, and that assumption turned out to be my next mistake.

On my way over to The Forbidden City, I’d questioned if I would be able to get in there since the powers-that-be might have been having a pageantry in The Forbidden City. I dismissed that concern when I concluded that if the VIPs were back there busily watching a parade, then they couldn’t also be inside The Forbidden City simultaneously watching a pageantry.

After I had arrived at the gates of The Forbidden City, I began to wish I had stuck with my original plan to visit Beijing a month earlier in August. There wasn’t any display of pageantry in The Forbidden City at that moment, but the people working under the VIPs were busily setting up The Forbidden City for the pageantry. Therefore, The Forbidden City was closed and off-limits to everyone who wasn’t of the VIP status.

I chalked up the day as another learning experience that taught me something about sightseeing in a foreign country and about the inclusion of democracy versus the exclusion of communism. The next time I would see a parade on Main Street, USA, I would appreciate how anyone and everyone would be invited to watch the parade regardless of whether or not they were a VIP.

Writer Nick Dao is based in Southern California. An American originally from Vietnam, he is able to offer a unique perspective on travel to Asia and elsewhere.