Yes. The scooter was a thing of ridicule for most people, but I loved it. Riding the scooter was like ‘playing bikes’ when I was ten. It was just fun, and I didn’t need an excuse to do it. I named her Trixie, but most people just called her scooter.
But the scooter is sold now. It went first to Cliffy, then to Chuck. Did Cliffy appreciate it like I did? Will Chuck?
My time with the scooter was sure to come to an end after moving to Warren. My 20 mile commute to work was too far away for the scooter, and the scooter didn’t really fit well in-town either. Indeed, the scooter came to me after my friend Joe Monninger moved to Warren and decided to sell it.
During the time I had it, the scooter endured two or three crashes. The last crash was while my wife, Sandee, was making her second attempt to learn to ride. She minored in dance, and while on her feet she can balance and spin, jump and land with grace and outstanding beauty. But on the scooter she locks up as soon as the scooter begins to accelerate. In panic she squeezes the hand grips, and turns the throttle. Accelerating, screaming, wobbling, she aims for the largest obstacle.
Her two rides as scooter driver have been short ones.
The sticker on the back, which was so tongue-in-cheek, was found dangling from a wall outside Chuck’s old apartment many years ago when I first got the scooter. The backing had been removed, and I wasn’t sure it would stick well. It was on a humid night in June, 1997, that I put that sticker on trunk of the scooter. It’s stuck ever since.
Good bye old scooter. I will miss you.