I used to have one... but it died.
Okay, I'm not sure if you understand. I should start from the beginning. You see, I loved my scooter. For the first two thirds of my sophomore year, it was not uncommon for me to ride my scooter EVERYWHERE.
To class.
To chapel.
To meals.
Down hills.
Up hills.
Down ramps.
Inside buildings.
No seriously. I even took it up the elevator and then scootered down the hall to class.
Or, I used to anyway, but I'll get to that in a minute.
Lots of people called me Scooter Girl. I would go out for joy rides just past curfew when most people were back in the dorms.
I really like going down the big hill all the way from the gym to the chapel. Ordinarily it would take at least ten minutes to walk from one to the other... I can make it in two minutes on my scooter.
I really liked having it, because I got everywhere faster. I was seldom late.
Pretty much nothing stopped me from scootering:
Rain? I could scooter one-handed and hold an umbrella. I could scooter and drink coffee or eat ice cream. I could talk on the phone.
I couldn't really do any normal scooter tricks on it, and I didn't really try to because it was SO old. I got it at a yard sale when I was 8. I'm 19. So that means the thing is at least 11 years old. Pretty legit.
In spite of my scooter's age, I still let people ride it around occasionally, especially in the student center. Perfect strangers would come up to me acting like they'd never seen one before and ask if they could ride my scooter. Well, yes... sure. I just asked them not to do tricks, because I didn't want them to break it.
One time I saw a bunch of junior high school boys on campus riding around on their skateboards. I was scootering by, so I shouted, "Hey! What happened to your handle bars!?" They thought it was hilarious. Actually, I thought it was kind of lame, but I'm glad they found it entertaining.
So before my scooter's untimely death, the only thing that really stopped me from scootering was when someone decided to "borrow" it without asking. It became a joke between me and about forty people who thought it was absolutely hilarious to hide my scooter if I left it sitting around. LOTS of people took it at one time or another, hiding it behind doors, next to plants, behind desks, or simply scootering away on it.
One of my friends always put it in the elevator when I left it outside the cafeteria. One time he took it in the cafeteria with him.
This was probably one of the better scooter-stealing pranks:
In case you can't tell, it's Saran wrapped to the pole. Yeah. I laughed.
Sigh. Well, I guess I'd better get to it. On a day in March, a day that will live in infamy (even though I can't remember the exact date), I was riding my scooter up a hill, trying to go fast because I was late to class. I felt a *clunk* and I knew something was wrong. The *clunk* was followed by a *clink* and I knew something had fallen off my scooter.
Whatever it was, I couldn't find it. When I stopped, I picked up my scooter to assess the damages.
The back wheel fell off.
THE WHEEL FELL OFF.
I was very upset. I had lost one of the screws holding the wheel on (and I couldn't find it!), and despite my attempts to find something to replace it, I can't. I've had several people fix the scooter for me in the past, but this time I think it's beyond repair.
My scooter has seen its last days. Am I still Scooter Girl? I would like to think so. My birthday is coming up. Yes, yes. Before you even ask—I DID ask for a scooter for my 20th birthday.
And I shall be very disappointed if I don't get one.
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