keeping up relations with the community

Recently I have learned to drive a fully manual motor scooter (this will make sense at some future point in blogtime). Not an operation that is particularly difficult, the machinations of gas in the right grip, four gears in the left, and clutch on the left fingertips (not to mention brake with your right foot and hand), takes a little getting used to.

As with most things that I do, the scene created by the lanky, blond honky learning to drive a scooter provided plenty of entertainment for the neighborhood. Once I finally managed to start the thing, it took another 10 minutes for me to successfully put it into first gear with out stalling, and then a few more to get moving, accomplished by gunning the engine, letting out all the clutch, taking off at a sprint.

Finally, having bucked my way methodically down this checklist, I was so tired of everyone on the sidewalk laughing at me, that I decided to take a triumphant spin around the city center, rather than going down to the end of the street and turning around. Moderation is for pussies.

It was late at night, so the streets were largely empty, positive considering that it took me a little while to check my habit of drifting over to the right side of the road. I finished every turn with a wobble in the middle of the street fit for the forcible reverse birth of 7 years of traffic laws. Naturally I managed to stall the bike going over a speed bump at the furthest point on my circuit; it took me about 5 minutes to get it started again.

Returning to the neighborhood, I slipped a gear while coasting into the sidewalk. I must have been a frightening sight—clutch open, machine rearing and shuddering, not to mention bule—to the prostitutes sitting on a rug on the sidewalk (I live on the edge of the red light district), because they certainly scattered with a hustle that I did not think their plump middle-aged frames possessed. Crisis was averted (the prostitutes no longer proposition me anymore, we just wave and laugh) and as I stood around looking shamefaced, a guy about my age walked over to me and said in declarative but clearly excited English, ‘You…scared the ladies.’

Indeed.