I sold my scooter last week. It had been sitting idle while I helped attend to the needs of a dying elder relative. My mechanical steed looked resentful as I passed it, on my way to the front door, my suitcase wheels clacking behind me on the pavement. I had been travelling, but my faithful personal transportation device had been left uncared for through seasons of rain, wind and snow.
I found freedom in the saddle of that scooter. I could jump on in a moment of motivation; scoot to the beach, scoot to the market or just go for a scoot along the seashore near my house, filling my lungs full of revitalizing cool air. I had bought my smallish motorcycle more than ten years ago to look after another elder. I could avoid traffic and be at my mother’s nursing home bed in the blink of an eye. My vehicle gave me immediate access. My favourite activity was a quick drive to the beach. I would pack a lunch, a towel and maybe a crossword puzzle. Returning home after such an adventure as that would leave me feeling restored.
My first grandchild was a scooter. She didn’t toddle, she scooted. From room to room she would navigate through her toys with one foot providing the power while the other leg, bent like a partially opened jackknife blade, picked up dust beside her. She would eventually grow a more practical gait, running, dancing and shrieking with delight over newfound discoveries. The nickname ‘Scooter’ flows naturally from my lips. It’s a fitting moniker for this little artistic rascal of a human being.
Scooting is such a great description for going off on a whim no matter how old you might be. I’m not as spontaneous as I would wish and I’m not getting any younger either. My age is telling me that moving slower might limit my call to action. Thank goodness there are more and more options to helping us get around our environment. I helped my mother-in-law pick out a wheelchair recently. She asked me to sit in it and I felt a bit squeamish. I want to continue to explore my world. Mobility scooters might maintain my joy of discovery.
I bought my 50cc scooter solely for me. My eldest son reminded me that self indulgence is a rare thing for me so he was happy when I bought it. It expanded my horizons of time, space and opportunity, I felt bigger inside. Now it is gone. Sold to a man named Tom. He is a retired mechanic/hobbyist who restores older scooters to sell to folks who will continue to love them. Today as I waved a sentimental goodbye I had two dominant thoughts: It was the best THING I ever purchased just for myself & how I could relate to horse owners who someday have to turn their steeds out to pasture. Time abides all.
As I discovered from my grand daughter; scooting is fun for a while, then it’s on to new adventures.
Catch My Drift? 