I put the blonde in Scooter...

School has started. Work has significantly picked up. And my church calling has turned out to be more arduous than I’d thought (hoped). These are the excuses I have to offer you as to my bloggy absence the past week… ish. Plus, I’ve not had anything particularly of note to inform you of… nothing worth reading at any rate (cause ya know, most of my stuff is SO worth reading), until now. Dun dun dun…

Story time!

So, to fill in the void that is single living (you know it’s true – there’s always a little void), I’ve done such things as travel, attended various little local activities and events, bought a Toshiba flat screen TV (mmm..), and shopped my little heart happy. At one point when I was living in Provo, I believed I was suffering from a mid-mid life crisis and entertained such desires as moving to Australia, getting a pet kitty, and buying a scooter as ways to “shake things up”. That round of feeling like I need to do something new and enjoyable, I got a cat – Lila – the white fuzz foot. Needless to say I don’t have Lila anymore because ALSO as a 20 something single, life tends to change as the wind changes. We’re a rather vagabond-esque breed, moving locations every year or several times a year, schooling and working and seeking and discovering. Many times, change isn’t entirely anticipated and what was once set in stone, become pie crust promises – easily made – easily broken (though not to get all down on Mary Poppins excellent analogy – pie crusts aren’t THAT easily made – am I right? Easily broken though… true that). We all start to feel a little restless at times, am I right? When you need something new and exciting – something that’s changing or progressing - I feel it’s a little bit of human nature to not only watch your world evolve – but evolve with it.

So void filling. Here’s what I’ve come up with.

Ta dah! Meet Holly.

I’ve been thinking about getting a scooter for some time. Done a little research and crunched some numbers – but all and all I wasn’t entirely committed until one fateful day last week when my good friend heidikins told me that a mutual friend was selling her Scooter – her lovely old school teal Scooter – for a steal of a deal. Internet, it was love at first sight… and first driving attempt, wobbling down the street with a look of excitement and anxiety all at the same time. How could I say no? Go ahead; look at it again… yep. Filled up my desire for excitement and change with a little teal Scoot Scoot affectionately named Holly. And why not? WHY NOT? I’m a downtown girl living the downtown life; my work is located a mile from my house – school maybe 3 miles from my house – essentially – my life is easily contained within a 5 block radius. You could say it’s almost a social injustice to not have a scooter with such downtown livin circumstances…. right up there with a crippled public education system and poverty. Well… maybe a few levels down the social injustice ladder. But still there!

Alright so all this aside – wanna hear a great story that involved the Scooter and a leather clad man called James? Okay… here goes…

So. I acquired Holly last Friday and naturally, drove her on down to the Farmer’s Market Saturday morning, parking her in Gateway summer parking. Now, I’m one of those people who double checks 5-6 times they have their keys in their pocket or they’ve turned off their headlights before leaving their vehicle. Nothing worse than doing something ridiculous that costs you time, annoyance, and money that could’ve been prevented if you weren’t such a brain-dead idiot (foreshadowed!). So I double check all these things – key in pocket, helmet locked in compartment, Off/Run switch off, etc. before I leave the Scoot to go buy me some local deliciousness.


Returning a few hours later, I hop on the Scoot to drive 'er on home and begin a day full of errands and homeworking and laundry and all those necessary Saturday tasks. Flip the switch to run… roll it off its kick stand (NOT an easy task for a wee person - I have calf bruises), and push the start button. Cricket chirp. Nothin. Er… flip the switch again, make sure the key is turned to ya know "On", and push the start button again. Tumble weed. Really? REALLY?!??! Flick the lights – functioning. Roll it around – shake it up – check the gas and battery gauge – flip the switch again – say a prayer - push start and…. Solitary wind carrying chirping crickets entangled in a tumble weed. Great.


Great… my battery must be dead. TRUE the lights work but it won’t even turn over so NOW what. Well, I call my friend Camille back who’d just left the Farmer’s Market and ask her if she has little jumper cables. This kinda freaks me out since the Scoot is so small and jumper cables seem so… electrifying… but what else can I do? Camille suggests I utilized her Ken Garff roadside family and friend’s maintenance deal and I readily accept. I trust anyone else sans myself with figuring out the mechanics of this that and the other on gas powered vehicles.We give them a call to see what they can do for Miss Holly. They promise us a 15 minute wait and we settle into discussing how annoying car issues are and how sad I am Holly may have a weak battery issue. She seemed so healthy. So robust.


1 hour later… yep… 1 hour later, hard-ass James rolls on his Warrior motorcycle (grug grug grug), leather vest and arm tats intact, with his little battery jumper box. James is cool. James is hard core. James checked my battery and says it’s fully charged. He hops on the Scooter (threatening us not to tell any of his friends that he’s sitting on a sissy scooter – and we promise we won’t mention it at the  Wild Hog Hard-ass Convention we’re speaking at next weekend), turns the key, pushes the start, and Broooooom! Starts right up! What? What??!?! Holly prefers two sizes too small jeans James to me? Is it the black leather boots? The oily VanHalen t-shirt? What?

“So… this Scooter is an automatic.” explains James.

I smile… “yeeeah… okay…” acting knowledgable... as if this has provided me with answer.

“So… you have to hold in the brake when you push start… or it won’t start. It’s like a safety switch…” he tries to convey matter-of-factly but I can see in his bushy browed eyes, goatee-chopped mouth, face he’s thinking “how do you function in life sweetheart?”

Blonde moment for me. Yep. Nice flat cement parking structure – why would I need to pull on the brake to start my Scoot? I mean, right? Makes no sense! Oh… maybe because I WANT it to start. Maybe THAT’s it. Thanks James. Tell T-bone and Death Fist hey if you see them before we do.

I laugh and sheepishly say, “Thank you” to James and offer him front row tickets to the Hard-ass Convention before holding in the brake on Holls and buzzing on home… perhaps with my head not as high as I’d arrived. Scooters must just bring out the blonde in me – which really doesn’t bode well does it? Indeed. But I sure make being a complete fool look good right? RIGHT??!? Look again...

Right.