So I bought a new scooter a couple weeks ago. I know, I know. You’re probably thinking, “WHY? You hardly use the one you have!” And you would not be incorrect in that regard. But something happened to cause this new purchase. I learned an important fact about myself and it’s this:
So now I’m sure you’re even more confused. But I can explain…
My 2006 Scarabeo Aprillia 50 cc is a carburetor-driven scooter as opposed to one with fuel injection. What?! Translated, that means if one doesn’t drain the gas each winter, keep the battery charged with a trickle charger, or start up the bike regularly (basically pay attention to the poor thing), it essentially rebels by flat out refusing to start. Well, go figure.
Unfortunately, I’m guilty of failing to do any of the above. Consequently, most times that I had a hankerin’ to scoot about town, little Hazel (yes, that’s her name) refused to be accommodating – which is why she’s only gone 618 miles. I really don’t blame her though. I actually thought she was simply being cranky, like a woman with PMS. But no. I was the cause of her ineptness. It was all me.
Anyway, once I realized scooters with carburetors take offense to being neglected, I learned that those with fuel injection tend not to hold it against you when you forget they’re in the garage collecting a layer of dust thick enough for drawing perfectly formed stick figures. So I knew I had to have one the second I heard there was such a scooter. No doubt it’d be love at first sight.
So I did a ton of research in finding the right scooter for me. And naturally, I ended up with one I hadn’t considered. His name is Bruce. The second I drove him, I knew he was my new BFF. It was like coming home, only to no home I’d ever known. (Okay, so I stole that line from Sleepless in Seattle.) But anyway, you get my drift.
Bruce is a 150 cc Piaggio Fly. He’s Italian and, in a word, adorable. But that’s my biased opinion. Although he’s a bland white, it’s nothing a few purdy stickers can’t beautify. I don’t think he’ll mind. (He’s in touch with his feminine side.) Plus, it will give him a little more personality…a touch more panache perhaps.
The day I purchased Bruce, I was talking with the shop owner and learned I was one of their younger customers that week. Pretty shocking since I’m about to turn 59.
But he told me that earlier an 85-year-old woman bought a brand new Vespa. I love that she didn’t settle for a used one simply because she’s a bit used herself, nor did she consider her demise before that of the scooter. (Those Vespas outlive ancient sea turtles.)
I thought: good for her for planning her future and not believing her glory days are behind her. She’s a positive thinker with gumption. I bet I’d like her. Who knows, maybe I’ll encounter her this summer along our beautiful back country roads because I’m considering joining a scooter club. There shall be no dust collecting on Bruce, no old gas pooling in the engine and no battery going dead.
But here’s the best part: if I remain an irresponsible scooter owner, Bruce won’t care one single bit. And that’s precisely why he’s made for me.
Like a true BFF, he’s reliable and tolerant of my shortcomings.