You may have noticed that it is June 26, and I have not yet written a single word about my beloved scooter. You KNOW I love my scooter, and by now I’m usually waxing eloquently about feeling the wind in my (very-short-and-covered-with-a helmet) hair as I buzz around town on my scooter with all 50 cc’s purring.
Towards the end of last summer, I began to notice a scraping sound somewhere in the neighborhood of my front wheel. It didn’t happen all the time, but when it did, it made me extremely nervous. My scooter (as most scooters) is noisy with many unidentifiable vibrations, but I can live with that because SCOOTER. This was different, because despite the fact that I didn’t take a class in scooter maintenance last week, I was pretty darn sure it had something to do with the brakes. One thing scooters cannot do without is brakes.
The thing is, it didn’t do it every time. So I would regularly come into the house after a trip to the grocery store on my scooter and tell Bill that it had happened again. He would dutifully get on my scooter and ride it around the block, only to return home and tell me it worked fine for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe me (or at least that’s what he told me), but it’s hard to diagnose something that doesn’t happen. My mom always said Bill was a genius, but even geniuses can’t solve nonexistent problems.
As soon as it got warm enough this summer, I blew the dust off the scooter, batted my eyelashes and got Bill to start it up for me, and took it for a ride. Sure enough, the scraping sound appeared, only this time, it seemed to make my front wheel immobile. I had had enough.
“Enough!” I shouted, and called Sportique Scooters. You need new brake pads, he told me without hesitation. (Mom might also call him a genius.)
I was too afraid to ride it to the scooter place. And though Bill offered to ride it for me, I’ve grown fond of him over the years and wasn’t eager to hand off the keys, saying with squinting eyes like Clint Eastwood, Do you feel lucky, Punk? Well, do you?
Instead, I arranged to have it towed to the scooter place. And yesterday, I picked it up and rode it home. The wind was in my (very-short-and-covered-with-a helmet) hair, and I was very happy. The brakes didn’t scrape. The tune-up they gave my little buddy gave me some get-up-and-go, though I assure get-up-and-go with a 50 cc engine means you might be able to hit 40 mph if you’re going downhill. But that’s just fine with me.
When I first got my scooter in 2001, I would ride it to the office. I wouldn’t have the nerve to do that today. But the fact is, I spend a lot of time in my ‘hood. I am happy as a dog with a new bone just to ride it to the grocery store or a neighborhood restaurant.
Nana: Born to be wild….