Its Mine. AL Freaking MINE My Friend Adam bought a Scootie Puff Senior and said "KJ You need to buy a Scooter, I will give you my old scooter that I paid 500 bucks for for 200 because I just want you to have a scooter that will make you smile, you can't be so work crazy and walking or taking the bus everywhere, your a freaking cripple!"
So I looked at it just to look at it, thinking I would probably not buy it. But it was red, and little like me, and a little rusty, and no one was riding it, and it looked so sad...
So I bought it,He signed over the registration and I pick up the plates on Monday.
Today Adam showed me how to clean the carb, choke and screws (why does this sound like I should be writing this on violet blue instead...) And took it for a dirty test drive.
Fucking WHEEEEE!
It tops out at 40 but I was literally screaming "YEE-HAW!"
In my little flame helmet and goggles and my little bucket on the back, suck a dork and do I care? hell no! I loved it!
I can't wait to ride that thing all over the freaking city!
It makes me miss my motorcycle something fierce though. Now I remember, the feel of it sitting rumbling ready to fly down the back country roads, reading the moves and gestures of my body like a mechanical horse.
Watching as the country side whipped by and little kids waved, people sat on porches nodding their hello's. Watching in approval glad that I wasn't one of the harley nutsacks with a loud aftermarket muffler that shook and rattled their tiny farm windows and knocked their tiny china kittens and curios to the kitchen floor.
I remember sitting in trucker bars having a root beer and a grilled cheese in my head to toe kevlar while getting hit on by idiot crotch jocks with their kawasakis ninjas and other weenie torpedoes asking me where my boyfriend was or who I borrowed my bike from.
My Honda Triumph *insert sigh* Then came the day I was diagnosed with Syringomyelia. I remember selling my cousin my motorcycle to drive out to Montana, it made me feel better knowing it would stay in the family, I sold it to him for a dollar. I cried that night on my front porch so Crash wouldn't feel bad about it. It was the day I had to quit the fire department, my job and put my mototcycle for sale, it was the day I stopped fencing, stopped riding and felt myself die a little inside.
It has taken me almost three whole years to start healing and putting myself back together again, this Scooter is one of the bravest things I have gotten to do.
My dad and fiance fought me tooth and nail. I almost backed out a couple times and then something in the back of my head said "everyone gets hurt and everyone dies, but not everyone can say they really LIVED its a scooter for the gods sake!
Shit, I can't have my motorcycle back because Crash (fiance)would flip out, and my doctor says no and my dad has a bad heart and can barely fathom the freakin scooter.
But I can ride a scooter. I get a little thril from the damn thing. I can't ride a stupid bicycle and the thing gets like 80 miles per gallon. Its economical and its FUN. Why the hell WOULDN'T I but it? So I finally said to everyone "Think of it as a really fast gas powered hover round" My dad signed and bought me an emergency jump kit, Crash bought me a helmet and my nephew bought me a sticker that says "tell your kids to stop pointing at me"
It now sits in my garage and I just walked out and patted it goodnight.
I may have to attach a cane slip to the side, I may have to wear a diaper someday soon so I don't wet the seat (the disease is getting worse), hell I may get kinda fat for the thing, and it will never look like a motorcycle, but my nephew said something awesome today he said "Aunt KJ It Looks like a motorcycle, and it goes pretty fast, and it makes you smile really big that makes everybuddy happy doesn't it?"
Well if it doesn't, then maybe it should.
KJ
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