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The Flying Scooter
How old was I when the fun was brought to an end? I think I was about twelve or thirteen years old. Oh, I remember… I was “old enough to know better.”
When I was a kid my family had a scooter. It wasn’t the funky “retro” scooters you see now with their sherbet colors and funky wheel wells. This scooter was quite functional and, built more like a moped minus the actual pedals, slightly reminiscent of the old scooters I saw in the war movies Dad & Grandpa watched. Despite the “luxury” of owning 2 cars, the family income hovered near the poverty line and this scooter, for a year or two, got more road time than the second car. Twenty-eight miles round trip, my father drove it almost daily to work. Eventually that grew tiresome and it was parked in the shed, teasing and taunting me every time I had to go in for the bicycle tire pump or maybe my dad’s toolbox. Oh how I wanted to ride that mean machine! Deciding he needed something from the shed, Dad would move the scooter out to the yard. I think he did it to torture me because, looking back, he never really used anything he so desperately needed from the shed anyway. Jeremy and Jason, my younger brother and cousin, would take turns “driving” it but I was too old to play such silly games. Well, not always. Now and then I would get on and pretend I was driving, imagining cruising around town and picking up my friends for a spin, racing past all the mean kids and laughing at them because I have cool wheels and they’re stuck riding their brother’s ratty-ass hand-me-down 10-speed and just wishing they were half as cool and lucky as me. Ahh, blissful ignorance.
For some reason Dad decided to teach me how to ride. Unable to believe my sweet stroke of luck, my brother and cousin were speechless. He told them once he taught me I could take them for rides. We were beside ourselves with joy. Were we really this lucky? Yes, yes we were. Dad put me on back and showed me how to shift and brake. Then it was my turn. At speeds topping nearly 10mph, I was careening down the yard behind the wheel of 49cc’s of raw power. Unbelievable! My brother and cousin were shouting and jumping for joy. It was official, this was going to be an awesome summer!
Some basic ground rules were laid out for us. No driving the bike on the roads and no friends riding on the back, only Jeremy & Jason. We lived next to the school so it was the perfect place to ride; there was a huge blacktopped playground, a massive grassy area that was larger than a football field, and even a baseball diamond. We would ride over the little hill in the yard and cut through the bushes, quickly cutting across the side lawn of the school into their backyard. That’s how we spent most of the summer. Some days I would ride alone and decide it was ok to go on the road for just a while. Before I knew it I had made it to my friends house and given her a ride to the school. I did eventually ask my parents if I could pleeeeeeeeeease give my friend a ride and, after talking to her parents it was decided that would be ok but only in our yard or the school. So, to the park downtown we went!
It was a fabulous summer filled with adventure and more excitement than a white bread girl, such as myself, could handle. The end of it all began accidentally, but doesn’t it always? When it was time to go home we would cut across the schools’ side lot, between the bushes (be sure to dodge the large tree), and zip up over the little hill. As my driving skills improved I began to drive faster with more confidence; I was quick to speed up and take chances. I was one with the scooter. One day, with Jeremy on back, we took the hill a little to fast coming into the yard. For the briefest moment after hitting the top of the hill our butts left the seat. It was incredible! Stopping the bike I asked Jeremy if he felt that. Laughing and ready for more he said he had felt it. No longer content to park the bike for the night, we took it back out for more runs over the hill. That sealed the deal. To guarantee that stomach-falling feeling from that day forward I would gun it at the hill to get that air.
The last time truly was the best. Jeremy was the lucky rider for the last run. We decided at the school that I would just drive as fast as I could, cut into the bushes without slowing and take the hill at full speed. He seemed to think it was a great idea, even offering some tips and pointers, and he had only led me wrong with the scooter one other time in his four years on Earth. That’s when we took the scooter to the lake and he and I went down to the water for a ride. That sand looked pretty soft but he assured me it would be totally cool. Why would I question the four year old? Needless to say, the bike got stuck and we had to walk back to camp to get Dad to pull it out. But I digress. We were picking up speed leaving the school and all looked good. Drop off from the rock driveway to the grass. Cut around the back of the music room. Open ‘er up and really build up speed. There’s the bushes, lean to the left and straighten out quick. Lean right, dodge the tree! Here comes the hill! Holy cow, we’re airborne! Tacky but true, time really did seem to stand still. Clinging to the handle bars, I could feel Jeremy hanging on to me for dear life as our butts came off the seat, what felt like, a foot and we were both laughing and yelling at the top of our lungs. From the looks on my Mom and Grandma’s faces I think we easily had a foot of air. That’s when my laughter stopped.
Mom asked the usual questions that parents ask but really don’t want to hear your answer too. I was made to get off the bike and walk it to the front yard so she could put a “For Sale” sign on it. There was no more sitting on it and pretending to drive, no more quick runs around the yard or to the school. It was over. Nothing had ever sold so quickly in our front yard as the flying scooter. She meant to teach me a lesson about being responsible and safe. That’s not the lesson I took away from the experience. I DID learn to check and see that the coast is clear before I follow the advice of a four year old.
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Oh, by the way. This is her main mode of transportation today. Obviously the fun has been resurrected and thriving in Bermuda.
I laughed out loud reading this... and *i* am the guest blogger! LOL! Man, that is such an accurate description... it's awesome how dead on it is. Like reliving it. Thanks for sharing.. i'm going to send this link to some friends :)
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