No survey of Sacramento area hamburgers would be complete without a pilgrimage to Mecca—the Squeeze Inn. While there have always been contenders for the best hamburger in the Sacramento Area—Jamie’s on Broadway, Jerry’s Tumbleweed Inn on Folsom Blvd., and Cookie’s on H Street, to name three popular contenders—the Squeeze Inn is the only one to achieve national notoriety. The Squeeze Inn was one of the best-kept secrets in Sacramento until Food Network celebrity and Sacramentan Guy Fieri featured the restaurant on his Diners, Drive-Ins, & Dives show.

After that, nothing was quite the same. The long lines that were common to anyone driving by the Fruitridge Blvd. address grew longer. Now people where coming from out of State to check out the what was so special about the little orange shack’s food. The next time the Squeeze Inn made the news someone was suing the owner Travis Hausauer for non-compliance with the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). A disgruntled handicapped woman filed a lawsuit against the establishment. She was also suing at least four other businesses for various reasons related to ADA non-compliance. What was fascinating was the outcry against someone physically challenged! Googling the case brought up angry comments from the burger-loving blogosphere and other websites rallying behind the little orange shack and against the crippled woman. Any out-of-towner or non-burger lover reading these sometimes caustic comments might imagine someone kicking the cane out from underneath the poor woman’s straining arm or pushing over her three-wheeled scooter. The plaintiff eventually dropped the case, but Hausauer moved his restaurant anyway. He also opened a Squeeze Inn in Galt and will be opening another restaurant in Roseville soon.

The new Squeeze Inn is in a bland, nondescript storefront on Power Inn Road, right around the corner from the orange shack. Besides a few tables outside, the new place has a counter, about five tables and a booth enclosed in what appears to be the entrance of the old Squeeze Inn. Hausauer has lionized his blossoming chain with orange shack imagery throughout the store.

When it was my turn to order I noticed the signs on the counters as well as on the front door directing patrons not to have a seat but to wait to be seated. Though Hausauer has moved into a larger venue the Squeeze Inn’s rep has tagged along with it. Just like in the orange shack, there are no seats for the patrons tired of standing in line or waiting for their to-go orders. For that matter, there is no immediate seating for people like me planning to eat in the restaurant.

When a server finally called my name, she showed me to a two-seat wheelchair-accessible addition to the counter next to the swinging doors that separate the dining from the food prep areas. The servers were so busy that the doors were never idle and my Mini-Me counter gently rumbled the whole time I was there as the servers moved in and out through the swinging doors. With all this action, I was impressed that the person who took my order at the register also topped off my tea even though the iced tea and fountain drinks appeared to be available for customers to help themselves.

When it came to the food, of course, I ordered the Squeeze with Cheese, which is a 1/3 lb of beef, about a 1/4 lb of cheddar cheese (no joke), lettuce, tomato, long-slice pickles, red onion, mustard, and mayonnaise on a large sesame seed bun. One could point to the beef, or the red onion or even the large, crisp sandwich pickles as the ingredient that makes this burger so delicious. These components, though, are secondary to the Squeeze with Cheese’s piece de resistance: the cheese. The 1/4 to 1/3 lb of cheese is what makes it the iconic burger of the Sacramento area. There is so much delicious cheddar that you know you are sawing off weeks, maybe months of healthy cardiovascular viability with every bite. The Squeeze with Cheese looked and tasted like I remember, the ridiculous cheese “skirt” that doubles the footprint of the burger and needs to be hand trimmed before you can get to the rest of the burger, the explosion of mouth-watering beef and cheese, along with the pickles, red onion, and an superb bun combine for an extraordinary taste. Oh yeah, did I mention the eating of the cheese skirt independent of the burger? You just cannot leave that behind. Someone told me Hausauer did not bring over his now-famous seasoned grill from the orange shack. I would like to say I could taste the difference, but I didn’t visit the Squeeze Inn just before and right after the move so I don’t know if the different grills made that much of a difference.

Remarkably, the fries were a disappointment! As stated before, it has been a while since I had been to the Squeeze Inn, but I remember the fries were thinner, crispier, and flavorful, freshly cut from skin-on potatoes. The server slapped down a ketchup bottle as a default gesture when delivering these sorry spuds, and I do not blame her. I would like to think her gesture said, “Hey, you are going to need this. It ain’t like the good ole days.” I can’t help but wonder, with the Squeeze Inn expanding to other stores if there is going to be a bland uniformity. I would expect fries like this from Burger King, but not from the Squeeze Inn.

Of course, the burger alone is well worth the long lines and the location, which has all the charm of a vacuum cleaner repair shop. I wish I could tell you to order the onion rings—a sure bet when the fries suck, but fries are the only side order on the menu. The burger alone is large enough for you.

As I scoot down Power Inn Road, the Squeeze with Cheese is heavy on my ever-expanding gut. I see Folsom Blvd. coming up. “Hmm,” I think to myself, “I could hang a right and go East up Folsom about six miles. Maybe the kitchen is still open at Jerry’s Tumbleweed Inn.” My bulging stomach groans in protest; maybe next week.

The best way to experience scooter culture is to attend a rally, and no sooner after starting this blog did the Vespa Club of Sacramento announce its second annual rally IL Inferno Scorciante Due (or The Hottest Hell 2). So, on Friday night July 23, I scooted to The Bonn Lair, an Irish Pub on J Street near 36th for the first of five events to take place between July 23 and 25. It was my first rally and I was nervous.

As I rode up J Street, I could just see me, a scooter rookie, knocking over one newly detailed vintage scooter, which would then start a chain reaction knocking down a dozen scooters on J Street while trying to set the scooter’s center stand. I would fee from the scene of the crime only to be chased by a bunch of Mods. Instead, there was only an old orange Stella parked in front of Bonn Lair with plenty of room for my clumsy parking job.

It was not until about a half-hour later, while munching on some fish & chips at the bar, that I started hearing people talk about scooters. At one point, the bartender point out one of the leaders of the Vespa Club of Sacramento (or VCOS). Billy smiled and pushed his right hand through the crowd as I franticly wiped the grease off mine to meet his. When I met him again later at the back of the pub, the amiable Billy introduced me to about eight other scooterists. This was my first real experience in the culture of the scooter.

Like all the parties I attended in college and later with my wife I ended up a wallflower, intimidated by everyone’s commanding knowledge in everything that is scooter as well as my doomed inability to just walk up to strangers and engage them in conversation. I also realized that so much of the talk revolved around vintage scooters and the various makes and models—I did not do my homework, I was completely lost. Billy would occasionally see me standing alone in a corner, call me over, and ask me shallow questions like how I liked my GTL. “I love it!” I said feigning a cool manner, as if I have been talking all night, and not desperate for attention. I felt Billy was just being nice—these guys do not really talk about new scooters, their interest is in the older classic models. From this point on, I realized the only way to survive was to play the inquisitive rookie card. Therefore, I started asking questions. For the rest of the three-day rally, I would speak to scooterists with a beginner’s curiosity, which was the truth, even if I felt more of an outsider than someone trying to fit in as an equal would.

I had heard that the VCOS acted superior around other scooterists—ones who rode newer rides. I asked about the VCOS’s members and how does one become a club member. Billy told me the VCOS is really about vintage scooters, but anyone can attend meetings and runs. “We’re aware of the ‘snob factor’ some people label us, but I think we are misunderstood,” he said. He also said that one could find faults with other clubs, but it really comes down to individuals.

I almost won a free one-year Vespa Club of America membership in a dart game. I considered this a good omen for the rally since I have never played darts before. Riding home that night I was exited to meet new people, but also wondered why I stayed so long with the last half-hour spent sipping my mineral water alone in a corner. These coinsurers of vintage scooters could only find so much to talk about to a newbie with a 2005 scooter.

I missed the run to Woodland on Saturday morning. I did show up at what I thought would be the best part of the rally—“The Custom Show & Cocktails” part later that afternoon at The Shady Lady Saloon on R Street. No one told me what the show would be like so I was expecting Hot August Nights for scooters. There was no show, just another place to drink and talk. Since I do not drink and I do not know anyone I, once again, ended up the wallflower. On the other hand, I was introduced to Sic Bastard, Bodacious Bastard, Commie Bastard, and Absolute Bastard of the Royal Bastards Scooter Club.

I had been waiting to meet the Bastards ever since Rebecca of The Scoot Shop told me The Bastards have members with newer scooters. I met Sic Bastard and Absolute Bastard who were very friendly. I also met VCOS President Ben, who told me a little of the history of the club, which began in the 50s, disbanded some time later and was resurrected only recently.

Of all the people I met during IL Inferno Scorciante Due, I was most impressed with the legendary Rolf Soltau. Soltau was a scooter racer and founder of the Vespa Club of Los Gatos, but his claim to fame is that he is most likely the best mechanic Piaggio had this side of the Atlantic. I do not remember any of the technical and historical information he bestowed upon the crowd who surrounded him, but when he spoke, they listened. When he asked me what kind of scooter I had and I promptly answered. He said, “All you have to do is replace the oil every 3000 miles and it will cause you no problems.” A very different kind of comment compared to what he said about various vintage scooters. Still, Rolf and his fans talked about vintage scooters the most, rarely mentioning anything Piaggio has produced in the last twenty years. I wanted to ask him about the MP3s (Piaggio’s three-wheeled scooters), but felt outgunned by all the vintage talk.

There was something else about Rolf—he was old. This made sense since his wisdom reflected his years, but it made me realize something: with the exception of the Master Scooterist, I was one of the oldest people in the bunch. Most of the attendees were in their twenties and thirties. There were a few guys in their forties, but I do not remember anyone looking my age. I was both the oldest and least experienced in the rally. My age did not bother me as much as my inexperience, but I did have this urge to tell all these scooterists to go easy on the beer and to stop smoking before it is too late, as if I was their uncle. I would discover a week later at a Royal Bastards “meetup” that there are plenty of older riders, some of them as old as Rolf, they just did not attend this rally.

The conversations I had with Rolf, Billy, Ben, Sic, and Absolute, were few, and far between chunks of time I spent counting all the bottles behind the bar while nursing my ice tea. When I got tired of the liquor inventory I would walk from one side of the bar to the other trying to get into various conversations, but that was not working. Finally, I took a walk up R Street and to my surprise and relief, I was delivered by, of all things, a hamburger!

Burgers & Brew: a Burger Interlude
Next door to The Shady Lady is Burgers & Brew. Now I am at home! Burgers & Brew sports nine different hamburgers, and five burgers with alternatives to beef: turkey, tofu, Portobello mushroom, a Garden Burger, and a Buffalo Burger I am going to have to return to try! I felt so relaxed that I forgot to order The Burger Scoot’s usual cheeseburger test. The Special was a Chipotle Burger—that was not on the menu, but I ordered it anyway.

The Chipotle Burger comes with the usual fixings: lettuce, tomato, pickle, a slice of red onion, and mayonnaise. It also comes with peperjack cheese, chopped jalapenos, and chipotle sauce. The patty is ½ lb of Niman Ranch beef and is good if not outstanding, but it is the whole package that makes it a remarkable burger. The sesame bun gets the Burger Scoot award for Best Bun So Far. This is the reason why I order burgers over patty melts. You can make a decent patty melt with just about any kind of bread since it is buttered and grilled anyway, but a good bun sandwiching a hamburger makes a big difference. The balance of beef, bun, red onion, lettuce, pickle, and tomato (even if the tomato was not very fresh) tasted down right excellent during some bites.

The fries were very good, thin, and crispy, and while I usually do not comment on my ice tea (I write this blog as if a cola would be the usual drink) the tea was excellent. Too bad I had already guzzled a pitcher of the stuff out of boredom and the desire to fit in with the rest of the scooterists who were drinking beer and alcohol next door.

Come to think of it, why isn’t there a Burger Rally sponsored by a Burger Club of Sacramento (BCOS)? I would be the Billy of the club! Guy Fieri could be the Rolf Soltau. I could help wallflowers who feel excluded and who do not think they know or love burgers as much as the club members do or can eat burgers with the same passion as BCOS members, and I could befriend them and make them feel at home. Of course, the club would discourage corporate chain burger fans from joining.

** UPDATE: J’s Cafe is now “Dad’s on J Street.” I would cover this new restaurant, but Dad’s has almost the exact same menu and the food quality has not changed. **

I have been going to J’s Café since the early 1990s and over the years the food has gone from excellent to poor to decent. I miss those days in the early Nineties when there was an innovative owner. On one occasion, while I was eating one of his latest creations, he stood over me asking how I liked his latest creation. I wanted to say I would like it better if he left me in peace, but he was a friendly person and you rarely meet a restaurant owner who seems so concerned about how his customers regard his food.

Today I ordered a Cheeseburger with fries. The burger is a 1/3 lb (originally frozen) patty with cheddar cheese, and the works (lettuce, tomatoes, grilled onions, pickles, and Thousand Island dressing on a toasted bun. It is a good burger, but there is nothing outstanding about it. J’s keeps a steady clientele since State Workers rarely complain about this quality: it is clean, fast, and it tastes better than the alternatives at the same price. The fries are steak fries, which are good, if you like steak fries. As for me, I like anything that does not need ketchup. I can not eat steak fries without a bottle of Heinz on the ready.

My wife has stress dreams from time to time. While some people claim dreams can be interpreted, she thinks not, but believes stress dreams “are a release, a way your body copes with stress.” If that is the case then, in her line of work, it is good that she has these kinds of dreams from time to time. From a spectator’s point of view, however—lying next to her hoping it will end soon—it is not a pleasant experience.

What this has to do with scooters and burgers is that I recently took a motorcycle safety course. I originally took the course back in March of this year. I did fine in the classroom studies and on the first day on the simulation range. On the final day, however, I fell twice. I fractured a rib on the first fall but continued the training while in pain. When I fell the second time, it was during the final evaluation, which was an immediate failure.

After my rib healed, I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles and obtained a learner’s permit, but was too upset to complete the motorcycle safety course. I had failed the course in front of my son, who passed it without a hitch, and shortly after that my wife successfully completed the course. I was the only one in the family that failed. That hurt more than my sore chest.

During the two months riding with a permit and doing well not to think about the safety course that I would one day have to complete, I often would reflect on my falls while on the range. Sometimes they would sneak into my mind while I was riding the scooter. This was rattling, but it also helped me think of prevention. The best thing I got out of the course was S.E.E.: Search, Evaluate, and Execute. This is something I thought about often during rides—especially when I was traveling through intersections, where most accidents happen. I would see me getting “t-boned” by a speeding car. For the first time in my life, I hoped I would hit every red light when I was on the road. If I had to stop I would have more time to S.E.E. rather than going right through an intersection on a green light.

The road itself stressed me out—both while I was on and off the scooter. My wife and I drove the car to a restaurant in Midtown the other day. After parking, we were walking across the street when I saw a giant, deep pothole almost the length of the scooter’s tiny front wheel. As my wife and I sat in a restaurant and looked over the menu I got to thinking, I rode my scooter on this street yesterday. Did I see that pothole on my ride? I do not think so. What would happen if I hit that thing going 35 MPH? DriverSense.com says that potholes can cause critical injury to scooter riders. “Potholes, bumps, cracks in the pavements, and construction sites can all pose a serious problem for a scooter owner.”

Another stressor having to do with the road is that the surface is often inconsistent. Besides manholes and speed bumps, old asphalt with new asphalt patches can be a problem. Along with this there are the rough “seams” that join the two. When I ride over these inconsistencies at a 90-degree or even a 45-degree angle, I do not notice them, but when I am doing 30-35 MPH and the small wheels slip in and out of the seam between old and new asphalt it rattles me.

My wife has rode on these kind of streets and thinks I am over reacting. Still, a tattooed Harley-Davidson biker validated my concerns over this issue (though he was referring to highway riding). He felt the road was pushing him sideways when riding on inconsistent asphalt and that is how I feel.

Admittedly, I have not experienced any stress dreams that I know of, having to do with asphalt inconsistencies, potholes, or getting “t-boned” but I think about them in the waking hours quite a bit. However, I did have a stress dream the night before I was to retake the last day of the motorcycle safety course.

In the dream, an instructor told me—just as one told me over the phone that afternoon—to wear a long-sleeve shirt, gloves, and boots that protected my ankles, and to come a half hour early to fill out some paperwork.

In the dream, I showed up and began filling out a stack of paperwork as thick as closing escrow papers along with a few other students. When I finished, I looked up to find the room was empty. I panicked and ran out to the simulation range, papers in hand. It was now midnight and raining hard. I saw the students on their motorcycles riding the range far off in the distance with their lights on—I am missing the class! When I looked down I was wearing flip-flops. I woke up at that moment. I cannot see how this helped me with my stress, though I will tell you I did pass the motorcycle safety course—finally. Who knows, maybe that stress dream helped.

Well, I guess this post has nothing to do with burgers. I did try to eat at Jerry’s Tumbleweed, a biker’s bar famous for their hamburgers, but the kitchen was closed. Next post will be about a burger joint. In addition, since the one in mind is the closest to my house I am sure I should not be too stressed out to provide a clear, calm assessment of the food without freaking out over the pothole out there just waiting to get aquainted with my front wheel.

Two things about me: I love hamburgers and I love my new scooter. Since I have not posted anything on my Jockomo blog since January of 2009, I thought I would start fresh with a new one. Perhaps this will inspire me to awaken the sleeping Jockomo blog.

While I consider myself a burger connoisseur, I am quite the newbie when it comes to scooters. I rode mini dirt bikes when I was a kid and a street-legal Yamaha DT 125 in my high school years, but that was years ago. At 52, two-wheeled vehicles are as foreign to me as Congolese food. Add to that the peculiar characteristics of a scooter and the experience is entirely new to me. It will take some time getting used to this new toy.

I started out riding my new Vespa Granturismo 200L around my neighborhood just getting the feel of the thing. After riding around the neighborhood and to the grocery store only a half mile from home it started to get boring; I needed a place to ride besides the grocery store behind my house. Since I stopped driving about ten years ago due to health reasons, restaurants and bookstores have been the two places I miss visiting on a regular basis. Now that I have some wheels my two favorite loves—eating burgers and dawdling in bookstores—have been rekindled.

Though it is embarrassing to admit it, I love hamburgers more than I love steaks, shellfish tacos, and even ribs—my second favorite food in the world. I can not tell you how many times I had been to a white-tablecloth restaurant and end up appraising the house burger on the menu, its description, and what it comes with it. As for my love of scooters, that is a new thing. I know little about them.

My burger trek will start close to home and push out from there. In the meantime, I will get use to my scooter and along the journey share my newly found knowledge of scooters while sampling Sacramento’s best burgers. I hope you come along for the ride.

To sum it up: There is an old saying, “It’s not the destination, but how you get there that matters.” I guess if this blog is to have its own saying it would be more like “Lets scoot to a burger and get a little more acquainted with scooting along the way!”