Okke Ornstein in Panama | Dispatches from the isthmus

The Celimo scooter, model “Typhoon”

When gas prices in Panama approached $4.50 a gallon, I sold my car and bought a scooter. Since I never really trusted anything that rode on less than four wheels, I decided to opt for an affordable model that, in case I hated riding it after just two weeks, wouldn’t represent a big loss when abandoned or resold. So I bought a Celimo, model Typhoon, at the Celimo outlet in Panama City’s Via España.

I had big plans with the machine. For example, I immediately registered diariosdescooter.com, a website that would document my journeys all over the country, and beyond, with my new Typhoon. Like a modern Che I would voyage Central America and report on whatever I would encounter, from social issues to geographics, from the beauty of its nature to the ugly circumstances of the many people that live in it. Even my Afghan shawl, bought in Kabul in 2006, entered the plans as it would protect me on the many dust roads I surely would have to navigate. Other than that, the scooter would serve me well to commute from where I live to Panama City, where I work.

That was the plan. Then came reality.

After only one day, the Typhoon already abandoned me. At night, on the highway from Tumba Muerto to the Centennial Bridge. Two mechanics from La Chorrera who saw me standing there and stopped to help couldn’t get the thing moving again either. Eventually my friend Marc had to come rescue me with his camper and next day the scooter was brought back to the dealer. The dealer then claimed I had violated the warranty conditions – which of course weren’t stated anywhere other than in his head – by attempting to get the scooter from the highway under its own power. After much discussion, he had to change half the electrical system to get it started again and off I went de nuevo.

Many such incidents have followed since. Within two weeks the battery went dead. Things fall off this scooter constantly. The exhaust came loose. The spark plug cable spontaneously disconnects itself. The belt drive, part of the transmission system, disintegrated into hundreds of small pieces after just a couple of thousand kilometers. Parts of the bodywork – all plastic – break off. A hole materialized in the diaphragm of the carburettor, limiting speed to a pathetic 40 km/h. All that within 5000 kilometers.

And of course none of this is covered by the warranty which, after all, is defined flexibly by the owner of the local Celimo dealer, a Venezuelan hustler who should be jailed or worse. At one time he waved a piece of paper which he said stated the conditions.

“Why did you never give me this?”, I asked, “for surely I wouldn’t have bought anything from you”.

His reply: “Ah, but this was still at the printshop when you bought yours”.

Needless to say that nothing has come of my plans for The Scooter Diaries, journalism between Che and Jan Cremer. The mount I designed to fit a video camera on the vehicle lies unused on my desk. My only consolation lies in the fact that Celimo isn’t getting the free publicity either. Bunglers. Fraud artists, with their inferior two-wheelers.

I went to Vespa Panama last week to show the Typhoon to my friend Larry. He walked around it, shaking his head. “Throw it away”, was his advice. The Vespas are all metal, proven engine design, proven technology, well built. They’re also expensive, but I’m sure it’s worth it. I need to get one if I ever want to practice this new scooter-journalism. Meanwhile, for all you aspiring scooter riders out there: DON’T BUY A CELIMO!

UPDATE 22/4/2009: A tragic accident has destroyed the front of the Celimo. And that while it was all plastic!

The all plastic nose breaks into many pieces upon even the slightest impact.