Two wheels good
Thanks for a great article on Cafe Racers ("Highway stars," July 29). I like their attitude and the execution of their rides. Those groups look as dedicated to their motorcycles as we are to our scooters.
We are the Rovers, the "skinny-tie Vespa-scooting Mods" to their "Rockers." We ride all manner of scooters, from the Vespas and Lambrettas, to rare stuff like a Bella or a Bajaj. We're in it for fun and yes, we have a lot of "scooter attitude."
The Rovers are one of the most active vintage scooter clubs in the United States, and one of the very few international clubs in North America (with our chapter in Windsor). We meet up on a weekly basis at local hot spots in Berkley, Royal Oak, Clawson and Ferndale. If you happen to see a bunch of 1960s and 1970s scooters together around southeast Michigan, it's the Rovers.
Last weekend we celebrated our fifth rally, the "Motor City Shakedown 5," and it was great fun for more than 130 attendees. We tore it up with bowling and rock and roll on Friday night at the Magic Stick; breakfast, the ride out to White Lake Township and partying at Theatre Bizarre on Saturday; and wrapping it up on Sunday with an awesome breakfast in Ferndale. We basically can't get enough of our scooters and the scooter lifestyle, but damn, we have to rest sometime.
Several of us have vintage bikes as well, so it looks like Michigan is the place to enjoy the whole two-wheeled scene. Thanks again for the story, we want to ride with those guys! —Ron "Placebo" Arnold, Royal Oak, member, Rovers Scooter Club
Delighted by mention
Just wanted to let you know I appreciated the brief mention Jeffrey Morgan gave our band, Caledonia, and our album, We Are America (Jeffrey Morgan's Media Blackout, July 15). My dad is Canadian but grew up in Detroit, is an avid Tigers fan, and had me dancing to the Supremes when I was still in diapers. I liked the Vernors-Canada Dry reference and actually do drink Vernors when I can find it. We wrote the album for a Canadian audience, one that likes to bash the United States a lot, and so the album title was actually slamming anti-American Canadians. We didn't really look at it from a U.S. perspective, but I got a kick out Jeffrey's assumption that we were actually slamming the United States. —Stephen Reble, Toronto, drummer, Caledonia
Just kids' stuff
To add a comment or two on Jack Lessenberry's "Unbelievably Stupid" commentary (at the end of "That's the way it was," July 22): Don't worry, Jack — no one will clutter the Metro Times offices with stuffed animals when you croak. It's rather rich that Jack calls Michael Jackson a "very messed-up entertainer," yet idolizes people like Gerald Ford, who was solely responsible for bringing Donald Rumsfeld back into the Washington fold with BFF Dick Cheney tagging along back in the mid-1970s. (President Nixon had attempted to dump Rumsfeld by making him ambassador to NATO, but "Watergate" and Ford derailed that strategy.)
While I admit that using a cemetery vault for Jackson's fans' tribute items (much of it would've been better served being donated to orphanages or perhaps even the "Toys For Tots" organization (did anyone at the Motown Museum even think to ask the Jackson family about donating the items?)), you'd think that Lessenberry would have better items to talk about in his "prize-winning" column. And as a Roman Catholic I was offended by Jack's comments about our belief in saints. Don't worry, Jack … no one will be carrying around your bones when you croak, either! —John Krzyston, Detroit
Richie's riches
The article on Richard Wohlfeil ("Boho like you," July 8) and his assortment of occupations — one being that of my publisher — was a very nice piece and, above all, timely. The writer, Travis Wright, seemed to capture nicely what an anomaly Wohlfeil is, in that he never formally trained for anything other than his genuine love of printed thought. Wohlfiel will strike those who meet him in different ways, but one thing is certain: He is stubborn in his perseverance and will continue his publishing endeavor until there are no more houses to paint. —Randy Foreman, Livonia
