Last Thursday, my mundane/majestic scooter lifestyle came to a very anti-climatic end as I sold my scooter to La Sandwicherie. It was a little strange. Not really sad. That poor scooter was just a machine to me. I never developed the bond with it I had with the other. Which is probably very much okay. People have a love affair with their vehicles and, given the amount of time I spent on that vehicle, I probably should’ve developed a deep emotional attachment. But I didn’t. That shiny silver 49cc little-scooter-that-could was a transport vehicle and nothing more.
I remember when I traded in my old scooter (affectionately named Scooter), the owner of Beach Scooter said that there was no way that I would get the same sort of mileage out of the new scooter as I did with the old one. He knew the purpose the scooter would serve: as a delivery vehicle suffering the abuses of the roads of South Beach, day in day out. In a town where the roads are always under construction, where the city actually overfills the potholes to create NEW bumps in the road, where the traffic is constantly stop and go, daily driving would be hell on a scooter.
Given my history with my previous scooter, there was only one choice for me. The Kymco People 50 had already proven itself to be solidly built and able to withstand being pushed to its limits for an extended period of time. It was beyond reliable. The function it would serve would actually be less demanding on a daily basis.
In the end, the scooter lasted perfectly well. When I sold it, I had about 1,000 less kilometers on it than I had on Scooter. It had taken a lot of abuse but still ran like a champ. Which is why I didn’t have any problem selling it to La Sandwicherie. It seemed like a fitting place for it to be as well. I was out to lunch with friends the other day and saw it whip by on the road in front of the cafe. It was a little surreal, honestly.
And so that’s that. End of the line. What a very long strange trip it has been.
On the fringes of sanity in Texas with Scooter.