Living in the city is hard for me.
So, I bought a scooter. A Barbie pink one. It is a 50 cc which means I can go up to 45 mph, it gets 80 – 100 miles per gallon, and it has made me giddy.
Now upon waking, one of my first thoughts is whether or not it’s a “scooter day”. Now, I plot out routes across town that are back road beautiful. Now, I am delighted to run errands and tend to tasks that require travel because I get to feel the wind in my face and I love it.
I was twelve or so when I first got bit by the mini bike bug. A friend had one and I remember loving the adventure of putting along trails with it. I have toyed for years with the temptation to get a motorcycle, but as a mom and as an ever-aging woman-aware-of-vulnerability I wasn’t too keen on high speed and long distance power.
But scooters, well, that’s a whole different thing. They began appearing before my eyes everywhere and each time I saw one my heart did a lurchy kind of call out to it and when I had run out of the necessary restraints that kept me from plunking down my money for such a one-person toy, I entered a store and there is was: not the classy red that I had thought to call my own, but a shocking pink one that was priced to sell (imagine, pink as a hard color to move off the floor!).
Fall is fabulous on a scooter. The smells and the warmth of the sun, the quality of light and the right-in-your-face beauty of flowers and trees and children waiting for school busses is breathed right in.
I’m in it: life and living.