Tag Archives: scooter

The Phantom Camaro

 

Early Spring here in Georgia feels much more like mid Summer with temperatures hovering near 80 degrees and the sun shining brightly. Such lovely weather has a way of making people feel like being outdoors to have some fun. Some folks like to walk, others ride bicycles. People put the top down on their convertibles. And me, I go for a ride on my scooter.

Riding always makes me feel free and alive, but this special day for some reason I felt powerful. I’ll admit, my scooter is no Harley Davidson. Not a Honda, Kawasaki, BMW, Triumph, Indian or any other big motorcycle. It’s a scooter. But bigger than those little bitty things you see zipping in and out of traffic in the French and Italian movie scenes.

Full throttle, on a flat stretch of road, I can hit 60 miles per hour. And at that speed this day I felt good. I waved at other riders, always glad to see fellow two wheel enthusiast out enjoying a ride.

I try to keep my eyes on the road ahead, but I do take time to look in the rear view mirrors as well. And that’s where I saw it. It was bright red and it was trying to catch me. Wide and low I could hear it’s engine roaring. You know, the sound that a five million cubic inch engine will make. And it was decked out with air scoops, and air dams, and bright lights. In my rearview mirror it looked like a sinuous wisp of red smoke charging toward me.

But I soon realized that it wasn’t blasting past me at a thousand miles and hour. It wasn’t even getting any closer to me. A red sports car that you can’t drive fast because the police are always looking for any excuse to pull over a red sports car that might drive fast. I was racing a Camaro, and winning!

Shortly thereafter I noticed that the Camaro was slowly inching it’s way toward me. He must had had his pedal to the metal. HaHa! And then, as we rolled along up a slight hill, he cruised very slowly past me. Checking me out. What beast was this that could keep up with his Camaro!

And as he rolled past me and I looked over, fully expecting to see Steve McQueen driving, I took a good look. Funny looking Camaro I thought. Because it turns out it wasn’t a Camaro. Chevrolet yes, Camaro no. It was a Chevrolet Spark! This thing was shorter than my scooter! I was greatly humbled. But went on to enjoy the rest of my ride.

That’s part of my story. What’s yours?

www.personalhistorywriter.com

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First Ride

As I begin here to describe the warm weather we are experiencing locally, the forecast on the news is that we’re going to have a cold snap. I almost felt guilty describing the warm weather knowing that my fellow citizens north of here are deep into a blizzard. The cold snap will make up for that!

The last few days it’s been cold in the morning but it’s warmed up nicely into the mid 60s in the afternoon. Pretty damn warm for February, even here in Georgia.   And every day I go outside in the afternoon and I think to myself this would be an awesome day to be riding my scooter! But I can’t ride to work because it’s too cold. For me anyway. Unless I bundle up in so many layers of clothing that I can’t move my body!   But it sure is nice scooter weather in the afternoon.

Other than this upcoming cold snap it’ll be warm enough pretty soon so that I’ll be able to start riding all day long. I’ll be able to ride to work in the morning and ride home in the evening.   This past Sunday the weather was beautiful. The sun was out, casting its warming rays freely and the temperature was in the mid 60s. So I pulled the scooter out of its hibernation, put the battery back in and cleaned that sweet bike up a little bit. I put on my scooter riding outfit and I hit the road for the years first ride. It was glorious!

The wind created by zipping along the highways made it feel a little cool, but it felt good. It felt like the freedom I remembered. The freedom I always feel when I’m riding.   I knew I had chosen a good day because I saw other people riding their own bikes. And they all seemed to be happy. Glad to have the warm weather. And we all waved the bikers secret wave as we passed each other and acknowledged the fact that while we all ride different machines, we all love to ride.

That’s part of my story. What’s yours? www.personalhistorywriter.com

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Gassed Up Adventure!

A full tank of gas promises unlimited adventure. An empty tank promises another kind of adventure. A kind that is more like orienteering your way through an alligator infested swamp than meandering through museums in Manhattan.

The gas gauge on my scooter isn’t always real accurate. Much like the speedometer. To know how much fuel I have takes a little bit of mental math. How many trips have I made since I filled up, and how long were they? It’s generally not too hard and I pretty much know how to interpret the gauge. And how far I can push my luck. If I open the cap of the tank and look in only to see that it’s bone dry, I put gas in it. On the other hand, if I can see even a drop I know I’m good for a few miles. Hadn’t thought about it much until the other day.

It was Tuesday and my regular day to go to my antique shop. Nice day, I’ll take the scooter. I looked at the gauge and it read full. I knew I’d made a trip or two. Short ones. I wasn’t worried. In a rush to get there I rode with the throttle wide open all the way. Burning fuel like there was no tomorrow. It was one of those rides where I pretend I’m riding a space ship.

Driving along I watched as the fuel gauge moved. Fast, and a lot. Dang. How far had those two trips been? Oh. Two round trips to work. Gulp.

By the time I got to the shop the gauge was looking like a quarter tank. That will get me home. It better. There are no gas stations between here and there. I poked around at the shop and finally got ready to ride home. I looked into the tank. A drop was visible. But I couldn’t remember going this far on that drop before.

All the way I took my time. A leisurely ride, more like a slow boat to China. You get a different feel for the road at a slower speed. And you can spend more time looking around at the scenery. I seemed to be the only one on the road so going slow was ok.

The gauge dropped into the red zone when I was still about ten miles out. This is where I knew I could go five miles. But what about ten? The traffic was picking up. I was having visions of running out of gas and having to push the bike to the house or a gas station. Even worse, I had visions of running out of gas and getting run over by a car as the scooter came to a sudden dead stop. Pushing was a better vision, but not up hill.

Finally I arrived at an intersection with two gas stations. Getting to one required a left turn across a busy intersection. The other was on my right. If I ran out of gas in the intersection making the left turn it could get messy. I took the chance and rolled into the station and up to a pump. When I opened the cap of the tank, yeah, right, bone dry.

Gassed up and ready to roll I was off on a new adventure. The rocket ride! That’s part of my story. What’s yours?

www.personalhistorywriter.com

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Secrets in the Surprise

I don’t like surprises.  But I do like it when good things come my way.  Yesterday was a good day.  And kind of a surprise.  The temperature was seventy-five degrees.  In January!  And I’m not talking Hawaii.

This is Georgia.  The weatherman says it’s not too unusual to have a few warm days in January, but this one seemed like a fluke.  It was the one I’ve been waiting for.  Might have been a warm front moving in.  Or a cold front moving out.  Global warming?  I leave the hows and whys to the weatherman.  I just knew it was a good day to get out on the scooter for a ride in the country.

I love my scooter.  It goes fast.  It gives me freedom.  It confuses people because it’s not a little scooter, but it’s not really a motorcycle.  Suits me well.  I like to get out on it and ride the country roads.  Get lost in my thoughts.  Lost on the roads too.  But you can’t get too lost.  No GPS, just a natural concept of which way to go.  In reality, if you don’t have a specific destination, it doesn’t matter which way you go.  That’s mainly how I ride.

My path took me over forty miles.  All paved roads this time.  One lane sometimes, but paved.  I know my way around most of these roads because I’ve ridden them all before, but I did find one new place.  I had seen the turnoff before, but I never realized it was actually a road.  It looked like it went to the parking lot of the recycling center.  But when I turned off the main road, I noticed that the road split, with one fork going to the recycling center, and the other going behind it to who knows where.

It turned out to be just a little loop of a road that came back to the main road.  But I saw houses, farms and fields I never knew were there.  And a little cemetery.  I didn’t stop this time because it looked like it was on someone’s private property.  There couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen markers.  It was starting to be grown over.  Exploring there is for another day.

Its gonna get cold again soon and I won’t have another opportunity to ride for a while.  But I learned once again that we have to take advantage of opportunities when they appear to us.  And that in doing so, we may be surprised, pleasantly, by what we can find.

That’s part of my story.  What’s yours?  http://www.personalhistorywriter.com

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