It started out as just a simple task—buy a used scooter to ride around town. Save on gas, enjoy the breeze and bugs and debris in my face, and have fun.
Then it began to get complicated. I talked first to Big Jim, he’s the big guy that has a repair service and knows about things like lawnmowers and cycles and such. He urged me to get a new, larger scooter than I had originally wanted (just in case I needed the extra speed to get out of someone’s way).
And all my scooter expert friends gave me great advice about needing a windshield, size of tires, helmet, and a friend even gave me a leather jacket. Most of my more conservative acquaintances thought I was out of my ever lovin’ mind to even think about getting a scooter. Just because I had trouble operating a lawnmower, I couldn’t imagine why they thought I couldn’t handle this piece of mechanical equipment!
So I began shopping and shopping and shopping, finally deciding on a beautiful blue vehicle! I had bought insurance, signed up for a special 3 day motorcycle school, and assured myself I knew what I was doing.
I had visions of country roads, wind in my hair (through the helmet), feeling the pull of an open highway, and pure happiness.
My brother-in-law brought it to me in the back of his pickup, and we unloaded it to get it inspected. Such a wonderful machine! He agreed to drive/ride it to my house until I could get the title and learn how to navigate this awesome bike.
I was following him in his pickup and I could tell it was running perfect. You would have thought I was a new mother! As we neared the 4 mile mark on our trek to the house, he began to slow down, and suddenly he stopped.
He must want me to ride it, but the middle of a bridge seems to be an awkward place to switch places. Then, he was off the scooter and PUSHING it! This did not bode well! I slowed down so I could protect him from the traffic building up behind us and hoped the honking horns would cease when we reached a wide spot on the other side of the bridge. This was not a pretty picture.
We—rather he—pushed the bike to Big Jim’s and we scratched our heads. What could be wrong with this wonderful machine? Well, after a quick inspection, it was obvious what the problem was—NO OIL! It ran 4 miles on no oil, but the poor baby was fried!
I won’t claim responsibility since the folks who sold it to me assured me they had prepped the scooter, and it had oil in it—apparently not, since the dipstick was dry! (Returning the scooter is an entirely different story saved for another day).
Anyway, after cancelling insurance, un-enrolling in the motorcycle class, and returning the scooter, I’m thinking it may be best for me to stick to my car. Maybe a scooter just isn’t right for me. And Big Jim is right, I’m really not a genius when it comes to mechanical things. I just want it to run when I turn the switch.
I guess I’m doomed to be scooterless or just be pushed along in life.