Boy, did you say it! I mean, boy did I say it. Essay from
http://cootiecountdown.blogspot.com/2006/09/wobbly-ride-to-funnytown.html:
Last October, I fell in love.
I don’t mean the trite little puppy love that you first experience halfway through high school, and I don’t mean the overly eager, “oh my God how soon before we can get married” type of love that never actually works out.
I’m talking about love that makes you crumble to the floor if you think about it too much. The kind that immediately floods you with regret that you waited 22 years to find it. The kind that urges you to write a poem, even though it’s certain to come out terrible.
Her name is Neptune and she means the world to me. She’s special because instead of being a “woman,” she is technically a “moped scooter,” and instead of having “free will” and “a brain,” she has a faulty (but loveable) kickstand and the under-50 cc engine size typically required by law to park in the bike racks on campus.
Consider this an ode to my mode. Of transportation.
I love my scooter because it is both graceful and elegant, yet it still manages to be ferociously comical at all times.
What other mode of transportation allows you to putter up to cute joggers in the park and meep your horn, while bellowing in a completely self-mocking way, “any ladies need a riiiiiide???”
When I’m in the mood for a double dose of scooter slapstick, I go with the “room for two.” This addition of a fat friend is always unsafe but always hilarious, and is guaranteed to yield an awkward, wobbly ride to Funnytown.
Scientists have proven that there is no better way to elicit an instant reaction from a general sample of people than by zooming around town on two 11-inch wheels of fury…especially if you duct-tape a cassette player on the back and blare “Born to be Wild.”
Those reactions vary widely, however. Many will laugh. Many will roll their eyes. Most will question your sexual orientation.
But at this time of year, when the weather is nice and you feel the cool breeze (sort of) flying through your hair an average of 24 miles per hour, those things matter not a whit. Riding a moped declares to the world, “appearance be damned…I’m having fun, and this is functional. Deal with it.”
If you decide to purchase a moped, be prepared for multitudes of fun.
But there are also a few downsides, and I feel it is my duty as a responsible member of the media to act with integrity and present an evenhanded, unbiased assessment of the topic when pontificating on a subject as crucially important as scooters.
First, be prepared to have scorn heaped upon you by pilots of real motorcycles. Especially if you meep your horn and point at them with a “we’re all in this together” look.
Don’t worry about them, though, because they’re just jealous. And sooner or later, one of us will slip through the cracks and crash their annual elitist Harley Day festivities at KSU games.
Secondly – and this goes out to all the fatties – mopeds are teases. The speedometer may say the beast can reach 40 MPH, but if you’re like me and have put on a significant amount of weight since high school, the needle will nudge 36 and 37, at best.
But be not afraid, for the payoff is worth the minor hardships!
I am confident that quality time with my moped Neptune is worth the speed reduction, the dirty looks from motorcyclists, and the mockery that comes my way from girls.
For I know that riding my moped does not make me a nerd. It’s the whole “wishing that I could somehow fashion a holster on the back so I could carry around my unicycle” thing that makes me a nerd.
Happy scooting.
