As a Bird

My friend, who is in town from Colorado, lives in a small exurban town, and so the numerous shared bikes and scooters and sitting scooters that dot the streets of our much more urban community were all new to her. 

Free from the troubling considerations of how dockless vehicles can become a nuisance or worse, all my friend saw was how much fun they looked, and I in turn realized how jaded I have become in the years since I could barely pass a scooter without unlocking it and taking it for a weeeeeeee ride. 

And so we spent our afternoon scootering all around town, down bike lanes, on paved trails, through parks, and along city streets, pausing to admire views of the airport, the monuments, and the river, and even stopping at the grocery store before scootering home. 

"This is so much fuuuuuun!" my friend shouted more than a few times.

The final leg of our adventure took us up a big hill, and I made it to the top a minute or more before she did.

"A car cut me off," my friend reported. 

"Oh," I laughed, "I was sure you were going to tell me your thumb was sore from coming up such a big hill!"

"I have to admit," she lifted her right hand from the throttle and wiggled the thumb, "it is getting quite a workout!"

Get off the Couch

I've been taking it easy since my scooter mishap a week ago. It turns out I bruised a little bit more than just my ego. My hand is getting better, but I also banged my chest on the handle as I went down, and that injury has been painful and slower to heal. Ibuprofen, the heating pad, breathing exercises, but most of all, rest, are the recommended remedies for my condition, and I have been using them all.

There may have also been some collateral damage to my self-image. "Are you going to scooter again?" Annabelle asked after the accident. "Of course!" I answered without hesitation, but I've definitely lost a little of my sense of invincibility: I feel more fragile, and life's dangers have been brought into sharp focus. Gone is my unwavering love for scootering, invalidating at least a half-dozen blog entries, and everything seems a little more scary now.

You are pushing 60! I think sometimes, as I inhale 1-2-3-4, Why would you do anything so risky? hold 1-2-3-4-5-6-7 Stay on the couch and read! exhale 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8. Do some writing! Take some Advil!

And it was on the couch with the heating pad on high that I was lying as we watched the finale of Survivor Season 37 the other night. The show actually had its traditional live wrap-up episode a few weeks ago, but we were busy with the holidays and missed it. Gone are the days when discovering the winner of this granddaddy of reality shows was a huge media event, and it wasn't even hard to shield ourselves from spoilers. So, we slogged through the three hour conclusion with a minimum of fast-forwarding, although I confess to always finding that ultimate tribal council tiresome and even boring.

This is the part of the show where the final three survivors are questioned by the jury, which consists of the last seven contestants voted out. The finalists have to answer for their game play and explain how they outwitted, outplayed, and outlasted their competitors, but to me it's just too much talking. It seems doubtful that anything they say can really influence the votes at that point, especially since they are still playing the game.

More interesting for me is the reunion segment at the end, where everyone is interviewed in hindsight, after the winner has been announced. The former survivors are often nearly unrecognizable, having had several months to recover from the 39 day ordeal and always so carefully dressed and groomed for TV. To be sure, the spotlight is still on them, but with the game so far behind them, their comments ring more true and insightful. They talk not just about their strategy, but also about how the experience changed their lives: what they wanted, what they got.

It was in this context that Mike White reminded me of something I know, but sometimes forget. A successful actor and writer, White seemed neither surprised nor dismayed by coming in second in the million dollar competition. When Jeff Probst asked him about his desire to play the game, he said, "As a writer you don't want just spend your whole life observing life. You want to just live it... and for me, I don't want to spend all my creativity on my work; I want to spend it on living, even if it means embarrassing myself in front of millions of viewers. It means you have to take a chance and live the adventure-- get off your computer."

He's right of course, and his advice holds true, not just for writers, but for aging scooterers, too. 

Safe and Sorry

“No she isn’t!” Annabelle scoffed when her mother told her I was in the emergency room because I had fallen off a scooter. Just the day before, she and I had sailed through Piedmont Park, exploring every trail as we talked and talked and talked.

To be honest, even as I sat watching HGTV, surrounded by people in their pajamas with barf bags and surgical masks, I couldn’t believe it either. Renting the scooter had been an impulse: it seemed to be waiting for me as we passed it on our way home from lunch. But even as I scooted merrily around the parking lot, zipping circles around my mom, Heidi, Bill, and Emily, I was feeling guilty about being somewhat antisocial. To compensate, I whizzed quickly ahead of them, and turned into a little utility lot at the high school to loop back around. Slowing down to make my u-turn, I hit the brake a bit too enthusiastically, and the scooter bucked, tossing me to the side. I sprawled to the asphalt, banging my ribs and shoulder on the shaft, landing on my hands. Jumping to my feet, I did an automatic check-- any witnesses? and self-check: knees? not even skinned. palms and elbows? scrape-free! --and jumped back on the scooter, confident that I was fine and no one had seen my tumble.

But the moment I rejoined my party, my secret was out. “I fell down!” I reported breathlessly. There was a bit of joking at my expense, which was certainly well deserved, and also some talk of past mishaps and the risks of riding these crazy-dangerous vehicles. With a laugh, I piloted my scooter away from the group and up the hill, parking it at the foot of the driveway. And it was as I waited that the adrenaline began to wear off, and the pain in my left hand? left wrist? announced itself more insistently.

Half an hour later, I confessed that a trip to the ER was definitely in my future. My instinct is always to wait and see, but it really, really hurt, and I ain’t no spring chicken. So, I paid the deductible and waited for the X-ray, the consult, and finally the treatment (an ace bandage and the advice to take 800 mg of an over the counter pain reliever.) Each step of the way, the health care professional helping me shared a tale of scooter mayhem, but always ended our interaction with, “I hope you feel better!”

As canned as their words were, I believed them every time, and I felt well cared for. At last it was time to go home. “Don’t let this stop you,” the PA told me as I signed the discharge papers. “Keep living your life!”

“I will!” I promised.

She smiled. “I hope you feel better!”

Breaking Bird

I knew it was out there.

On my way into the building yesterday a couple of sixth graders careened down the sidewalk toward me on a... scooter!

"Boys!" I said sharply, stepping in front of them with my hand raised, the very image of the fun scooter police.

To their credit? They stopped immediately.

"First," I said, "you should be wearing helmets. Secondly? Riding double is not allowed. And finally-- you have to be 18 with a driver's license to get one of these! Where did this come from?"

"My brother got it for me," answered one.

"Well, all I'm saying is that if the resource officer caught you guys riding this, you could get in some trouble," I told them.

"Thank you for the warning," the same student answered, and they walked the scooter slowly away.

Later that afternoon, I told my friend Mary the story.

"I still haven't ridden one of those!" she said.

I pulled out my phone and launched the app. "Now's your chance! It's still outside! And out we went.

A few fat drops of rain were splashing on the pavement as we pushed our way through the heavy glass doors. It took us a minute to find the scooter, because the boys had evidently tossed it to the ground after our conversation. Fortunately the app has a locator chirp, and although it was drizzling, we picked it up, and Mary took a quick spin. "Wheeeeeeeee," she called as she zoomed past, and I knew that she got it. A few minutes later, we locked the Bird, and propped it against the school.

It was on the sidewalk again when I left yesterday evening in the pouring rain, and still there when I walked in this morning. At 1 pm, after a long day of teaching, and before a long afternoon of planning and paperwork and meeting, it occurred to me that it was probably still there.

Brain break! I thought.

20 minutes and 2 miles later, I re-entered the building with a smile on my face, good to go for another 4 hours.

Urban Adventure

After the success of yesterday's bikeshare-scooter escapade, I invited Heidi on a similar venture this morning. "Let's just walk down and grab a couple of bikes, then cycle over to Crystal City and grab a couple of scooters and see what's going on," I suggested confidently.

The first foible was at the bike dock: we could only get one of the four bikes that were there out for a ride. Undaunted, we put that one back and headed around the corner a bit to the next closest station. There we pulled the first bike out right away, but we couldn't get another one, this time because one was already checked out on the account. So I rode the bike we had back to the first dock and jiggled the first bike until the green light came on. By then, Heidi had walked over to join me, so we borrowed the bike again and rode east.

You know those darn scooters are never quite where they say they will be, and multiplying that by two was definitely double trouble. Once again, we grabbed one right away, and I scootered up and down and all around, consulting the app on Heidi's phone as I rode (because if you already have one, the app on your device won't show any others), until at last I found one. Unlocking it, we were met with a terrible squeal, but still we agreed to ride it until we could find another, which was difficult, because neither of our devices showed us where they were.

Oh, and before Heidi could borrow one, we had to download the app and create an account, and then we had to enter her drivers license # before we could actually unlock the squealing scooter. Not having the document handy, I slyly made up a number, which actually worked.

Not finding any other scooters, and feeling a bit parched after our outing, we agreed to head over to Whole Foods, where we miraculously found another scooter waiting for us right next to the door. We locked both of ours, and while Heidi stood guard, I ran in for some cold drinks. A few minutes later, I rejoined Heidi who was in conversation with some dude who wanted one of ours. I whipped out my phone and unlocked mine, and Heidi did the same. There is a problem with your license, read the error message, try again later.

Shoulders slumped, we relinquished the Birds and walked off toward the mall. After a little shopping, we found a bike station and pedaled toward home, which was not nearly as much fun as scootering would have been. As we approached the very first bike dock, ready to turn our wheels in and walk home, I blinked and blinked again. The unmistakable silhouette of a scooter leaned casually against the bike rack.

Exercise in the Sharing Economy

It was another hot day here, but after returning home from a mid-afternoon movie, I was restless. 95 degrees had subsided to 88, and the lazy early evening sun was sinking behind haze and boomers that were too far away to rain. I tapped my phone and checked the scooter app. There were a bunch a couple miles away in Crystal City, but at that time of day, traffic would be heavy, and I wasn't looking for a place to drive.

A bike path led directly to the scooters, and I knew there was a bike share station on the way and another one at the end. With that, my plan was clear. Ten minutes later I was on a bike, 15 minutes after that it was parked, and I was walking a couple of blocks back to the scooters I had pedaled past. From there it was all wind in my hair as I rolled back home. 

What You See

The Tidal Basin was very pleasant at 4:30 this afternoon. The sun was low enough in the west to offer plenty of shade beneath those famous cherry trees, there was a soft breeze, and the water was dotted with bright blue paddle boats. As Heidi and Lucy and I walked up and around toward the Jefferson Memorial, there was also something else. The unmistakable silhouette of a scooter beckoned from the end of a pathway. Within moments I was rolling up and down and all around the deserted tree-lined drives and shady lots on the south side of the grounds.

In the years since 2001, all the roads that lead directly to the monuments, memorials, and government buildings have been barricaded and blocked; usually I find the added security a depressing reminder of the contentious world we live in, but today? It was a scooter's paradise.

10 minutes later, the scooter was parked, locked and ready for the next free spirit who chose it, and we were on our way.

Tomatoes? What Tomatoes?

There's been a lot of rain here, and we're expecting more. Generally, I try to go with whatever weather there is, especially in summer, because whether the day is hot or rainy or both, it is still a day of vacation.

Even so, I have kept a sharp eye for standing water and the predicted flash floods, but I was a bit surprised, when they closed our pool yesterday due to "dangerous conditions." After that, perhaps I should have expected that when I arrived at the Wednesday afternoon farmers market today many of the usual vendors were simply not there.

Oh, I was disappointed in my quest for summer tomatoes, but I did spot a scooter just across the street, and after a quick 10 minute ride, all was forgiven.

Scoot 4 Life

"Wow!" I said to Annabelle this morning at 8:45, "you're up early!"

"I want to go scooter before you leave," she told me and checked the app on her mom's phone. "There's one right down the street!"she reported.

"Let me finish packing the car," I said, and a few minutes later after closing the hatch on the Subaru, I crossed the street and looked around the corner. I could see the scooter half a block away, but to my dismay, I also saw a guy approaching it, phone in hand. I lurked hopelessly on the corner, but my heart sank when I heard the beep beep of the scooter unlocking. The guy straddled it, but then shook his head in either frustration or confusion. Miraculously, he stepped off, and walked away.

By this time, Annabelle had joined me on the corner. "I wonder if there's something wrong with it," I said pessimistically as we walked down the hill. But there wasn't. The scooter unlocked and I rode it back to the house so Annabelle could get her helmet.

"We don't have much time," I told her as we rolled up the hill in the golden morning light. A light breeze blew as we approached the park, and a few glorious minutes later we were scootering up and down the rolling pathways.

"You guys look awesome!" smiled one woman as we passed. "I wish I had a camera!"

Taking Flight

And on our last day in Atlanta...

There was scootering!

At noon, I checked the app and saw that there was an available scooter a few blocks away. "I'm going to get it!" I announced. "I might be back!" Then I paused, reconsidering my words. "Well, okay, I'll definitely be back, but I might have a scooter." And off I went.

The first scooter was nowhere to be found, and so I pressed on. As I neared the location of the next closest ride, I kid you not, a white BMW pulled up and a young woman hopped out, phone in hand. Her driver shrugged and smiled at me. Unfortunately for both of us, though, there was no scooter at that location. But there was an icon down the road and around the corner on the map, and so I power walked that way, making sure to enjoy the pleasant breeze and the lovely shaded southern sidewalks along the way.

Turning the final corner, I knew that today? Three's the charm. I stepped up to the scooter, and unlocked it with my phone, scanned my driver's license, and at last! I was off.

I scootered up the sidewalk and into the shady street. Zig-zagging here and there, and marveling that such a device might be so easy to ride and so fun. It was on the last three blocks, straight up hill, to my sister's house that I really appreciated my convenient little ride, and I rolled triumphantly up the driveway.

Not long after that, Courtney, Annabelle, Heidi, and I were all at the park with my trusty scooter, AKA, BY17. Everyone gave it a roll, but no one quite loved the ride as much as I did. That is until Annabelle and I bent the rules and rode double down the path. And that was how we spent the next hour-- sun on our shoulders, wind in our hair, nodding to the many, many other scooters, rolling through the park.

Props to Josh for being exactly right-- it was more fun than I thought it would be, and you all know how much fun I thought it would be!

I can't wait to ride again!

Can't Buy Me Fun

Another day, another scooter I didn't ride.

The stars seemed aligned for me, too. A guy was dropping fully charged scooters off right outside the place Annabelle and I went to buy our lottery tickets. "I got you!"he said and made sure everything was in working order. I opened the app, snapped the QAR code and prepared to have more fun than I even thought I would, when a new window appeared on my phone. Scan drivers license it prompted. I was on foot with cash and my phone, but no wallet. Alas, no scooter ride either.

Hopefully those mega million numbers will be luckier than that!

The day was very full without scooting, though. Heidi, Annabelle, and I found a fun indoor mini-golf place, complete with black lights, lasers, monsters, and an arcade. It was a little hard getting into the groove with neon lights flashing across the green as you putted, but we had a good time. When Annabelle turned our score card in, though, the attendant took one look at it and asked, "Who's H?"

"Aunt Heidi," Annabelle answered.

"Well give her this," the girl handed her a pass for a free round, "because she needs the practice!"

Maybe so, but we had better luck in the arcade. For the first time in my life, I even put the high score on a game. It was the basketball hoop, and I drained 25 in 2 minutes. After Annabelle spent our 31 tickets, we grabbed lunch and headed home, where even more adventures awaited, including brownie pops, a farmers market, shrimp and grits, and even porch time.

Maybe I'll get that scooter tomorrow, when I'm a millionaire.

(But don't just take my word for it-- Annabelle wrote about it here.)

Birdless

"It's more fun than you even think it will be!" Josh told me a few weeks ago when we were talking about the pop-up electric scooter rentals that were dotting the corners of our neighborhood. "You will really like it."

I downloaded the app, created an account, and was ready to ride except... there wasn't a scooter nearby when I wanted one, we left town, I forgot about it, and we left town again.

"Do you guys have those Bird scooters near you?" my sister asked me this morning.

"Oh my gosh, yes!" I answered. "I can't wait to try one! Have you done it yet?"

She looked a little surprised. "Um, no. We've been too busy hating on them because no one who uses them here wears a helmet or follows any traffic rules. They are all over the park and the Beltline, and someone is going to get seriously hurt someday soon."

"I would follow the rules," I said. "And Josh told me it's more fun than you even think it will be."

On the way home from lunch we saw one of the simple black and silver machines parked just a few blocks from the house. When we got home, I pulled up the app on my phone. "There's one right down the street!" I reported. "Let's go!"

We decided to combine scooting with shopping, and a little while later we set off. "There it is!" I pointed excitedly at the opposite corner. "My scooter! I'll be back for you!" I called and on we continued to Trader Joe's. Not 20 minutes later we were on our way home, but the scooter was gone! Someone else had rolled away with my first ride.

Crestfallen, I pulled out my phone. There were no others available on the way home, but there was one a little past the house and around the corner, so we dropped the groceries and Courtney, Annabelle and I trotted up the hill. It's more fun than I even think it will be! I told myself.

Arriving at the spot marked by the pin on the map, we found... nothing. Josh had told me that some people near him lock the scooters up on their property so that they will have them, even though it's against the rules. I could have reported it missing, but since I was still inexperienced with the process,  I sighed and let it go.

The app showed one more option for us, about 4 blocks to the south, but the winged icon kept appearing and disappearing. My sister was optimistic. "Let's go see," she said.

Why not? I thought. It's more fun than I think it will be!

"There it is!" I said as we approached a bike-share station, and as the three of us neared the corner, a white van pulled up and 2 guys jumped out and grabbed the 2 scooters that were leaning against the rack. After a lot of conversation and phone-checking, they hopped on one of the scooters and rolled away as we stood, jaws open.

I shook my head. "That was not meant to be."

And the three of us turned toward home, vowing to scoot another day. How can we not? It's obviously going to be more fun than I even think it will be.

(EXCITING WRITING NEWS!!! This week Annabelle and I are going to post each of our versions of the same topic. For Annabelle's version of the tragic trilogy of lost scooters, click here.)

Drive

I remember once when I was 11 or 12, my cousins had a minibike. They lived on a pretty big piece of land, and so they rode it all over their yard. The first time I was on it, I panicked and rode straight into a lilac bush, and that was actually the last time I ever piloted any kind of motorcycle.

Driving a car was a whole different thing, though. Living on a college campus in the middle of nowhere, I couldn't wait to learn, and once I did? I always felt confident at the wheel. Even today, I love me a road trip, and on any such outing I will always volunteer to drive.

Over the years I've noticed, with surprise, that not everyone shares my enthusiasm. First of all, there are the people I know who do not drive at all. Next, there are those who avoid it whenever they can. But then, there are also plenty of folks like me and Cindy Lauper who will drive all night.

I get that driving can be scary at first, and is always dangerous. Experience helps (in fact, now that I've been driving for 30 years or so, I'm ready to revisit that minibike thing: sometimes I think a Vespa or some other scooter or moped might be a good way for me to get to work. I do, after all, have a very short commute.), but that information is not comforting to a new driver.

I have three teen-aged nephews who did not embrace driving, but to be honest, they didn't have to. They live within easy distance of subway and other public transportation, and they have friends who are usually willing to drive them where they want to go. They also had a grandmother who lived her entire 72 years without driving.

I also have a godson around the same age as those other guys, and he can't wait to get his license and buy a car. Of course, he lives in a place where that is really the only way around, and his dad is definitely a king of the road-- that guy will drive anywhere, anytime.

Nature, nurture? Who can say?

 A few months ago, I heard a piece on the radio about how driverless cars might just be a reality in the not so distant future. In such a scenario, nobody would own their own vehicle, rather we would reserve or order one to take us where ever we needed to be. These cars would be guided by a central computer, and so not only would they eliminate traffic fatalities, but they would also be able to route all vehicles efficiently, thus avoiding congestion. Presumably, we would receive accurate travel time information as well, which would make planning trips much easier.

I want to go on record right now: It sounds very reasonable. Yes, it does, but...

 I don't like it.