They ride where others shiver to go

Sheer guts, without glory.

 The New Yorker magazine, tongue, as usual, firmly in cheek, this week paid tribute to "New York's Toughest" — the city's motor scooter food delivery riders. 

Artist Peter de Seve drew the front-page cartoon for the Feb. 2, 2026 edition, showing delivery riders as the only traffic on a snow choked street. They brave the bitter winter elements, with their big orange food bins on their backs. 

Let's give it up for the dauntless riders of New York City, and virtually every other city. 

Yes, motorcyclists on Royal Enfields have long braved the heights of the Himalayas. Competition riders have achieved higher speeds. Stunt performers have accomplished more outlandish trick riding. 

But for day-in, day-out riding with guts (and without glory), the door dashing riders delivering hot-to-go food to your door (because you don't want to go outside in THAT) deserve the award.

Not that I appreciate them blowing through red lights, cutting paths through traffic no one else can see, or terrifying pedestrians on sidewalks.

Sometimes unlicensed, probably uninsured, they go where they must, if the pizza is to stay hot.

Our natural reaction is to, rightly, curse their recklessness. But we have to admire their skill. Especially when it is a given that their machines generally seem in worse condition than anything else on the road.

Their mufflers, at least, are often missing in action.

We naturally resent the fact that they are obviously free of effective regulation: no police force could catch them.

The rest of us must pay for parking in the city. They fearlessly park anywhere they like, for free.

How can parking police write a ticket for something that has no license plate?

And, besides: the city has to eat. Restaurants have food to sell. Customers like the convenience. The tips are apparently good enough to encourage riders to go for it.

Scooters are cheap. Lives shouldn't be cheap.

Their rider training is Darwinian. Get good at it fast, or face the painful consequences. It isn't anything the Motorcycle Safety Foundation would endorse, but it works.

I can't ride like that, and I don't want to pay the price to learn. Not anymore than I'd care to learn how to ride The Wall of Death.

But I'll give skill a nod when I see it.

Fun stuff from 2026 Dania Beach show

Is it a real Indian motorcycle and sidecar? Nope.

 Motorcycle shows are supposed to be fun, and Saturday's 2026 Dania Beach (Florida) Vintage Motorcycle Show was plenty of fun. 

So, before we get into the priceless restorations and rarely seen historical treasures, let's look at some fun stuff: 

It looks big, but is kiddie size.

Here's what looks in pictures like a big Indian Chief with a sidecar, a little rough, the way you'd like to find it for sale in some barn in Wisconsin.

But in real life you realize that "it's small!" The motor looks real, but it's a unit motor; the fire extinguisher is toy size, and the saddlebag is no bigger than a lady's purse. The sidecar is too small to hold even a dog. 

The giveaway is the side of the motor, marked "Lenaerts, Brussels, Belgium" — a maker of (originally) non-functional carousel rides for children. 

But this one functions, as this video shows:

The noise you hear in the video is the crackling of the wind. The machine moved silently. The rider claimed the internal combustion motor is real, just so finely tuned you can't hear it. But that had to be a lie, onlookers agreed. It's electric.

More fun stuff:

Arthur Kowitz, of Ormond Beach, Fla., and a friend built this monocoque motorcycle for 1973 AMA racing. It carries a 350cc two-stroke Kawasaki motor.

1974 Norton Interstate has a l-o-o-o-ng kickstand.

Vintage parking meter: two hours for only 5 cents!

1974 Dneper 650 shown by Etier Vichot of Miami looks rough, but came in under its own power. It sounded great!

Children's push tricycle made from an actual war surplus 110-pound practice bomb. A rarely seen vintage toy.

Shiny little lever under the seat of 1955 Triumph Thunderbird 6T shown by Nigel Cardwell of Boca Raton, Fla., is the choke lever. Why crowd the handlebars when this is a closer and easily reached placement?

Lots of children enjoyed the vintage motorcycle show. Great to see them being introduced to artworks on wheels; plus there was an ice cream truck.

Already gorgeous motorcycle gets a little more love.

Heavily stickered Vespa has really low mounted mirrors.

"No Step!" warns fender of sidecar on BMW R75/5 shown by Harold Hickey, of Miami.

Why does the 1966 BMW R20/2 shown by Gary Harker of Fort Lauderdale have three rear view mirrors? Because the middle one is actually a handlebar spotlight, as the video below demonstrates.

My Royal Enfield is a 'garage find'

Can you find the Royal Enfield motorcycle in this photo?

 My motorcycle lives at the center of my cluttered garage. I can still roll it out the door, but just barely. 

It's usually not this crowded in there. 

My kids and granddaughter visited over the Christmas holiday. All the boxes of Christmas decorations already were down from the attic, and the little girl's visit meant the stuffed animals, Barbies and the Barbie dollhouse had to come down as well. 

And her car seat. 

And her scooter and helmet.

And the bat and balls and tennis rackets she'll grow up to use, sooner or later.

And lots more I could name.

It all joined the two kayaks that live in the garage all year around.

And the three bicycles.

And the excess backyard chairs.

And the cardboard boxes we're sure to need sooner or later.

Plus potting supplies, fertilizer, life vests, yard tools, luggage, and the wood-and-wire framework of the Moss Man we build every year for Halloween.

I've saved years' worth of flat bicycle inner tubes. Why? It has been useful to take the valve caps off them when one gets lost on a bike or the car.

The garage sucks it all up. Anything and everything fits, if you just balance it carefully on top of something else.

Sometimes it works out great. My wife just created an attractive orchid display in a big ceramic bowl found in the garage. Neither of us can remember where we got it, but it is the perfect thing for the dining room table.

My granddaughter and I built a crude wooden toy boat (she used a hammer!) to float in the river. The boat was reeled in on a spool of kite string left in the garage by the previous owners of our house. It had been just too good to throw out when they left, I suppose, and here it brought happiness to a child, 30 years later.

Garages can be magical places.