Scooter

An endless procession of anaemic scooters, and with the same whiney intensity as weed eaters, take over my street at dusk. Like the little guy with the big mouth who won’t shut up. Like me. They aren’t going fast, but they are definitely pushing the limits of rotations per minute as demonstrated by the way their internal parts shake so violently that they threaten to jump out of their aluminium skins. Maybe they’re delivering food and bad news, or they may only be a few and on an oval track, a test track, because they all sound the same to me. Could just be a mini biker gang going round and round to fuck with the new guy, my initiation and welcoming committee. I’ll give it some more thought and look for the patch on the back of the jacket to make sure. It’s mid-summer and it gets dark late here, so I really wish they would get where they’re going.

I saw a taxi going about 10 kilometers an hour, (6 miles I think) knock over two riders with ease the other day while on a walk. Like that hard to pick up  7, 10 split, no big deal, all in a days work. Except they don’t bowl in France, they boule, kind of a cross between marbles and lost my marbles. They throw around these oversized ball bearing in the dirt while acting tough in fancy shirts. A ridiculous game, really just an excuse to get drunk in public. Fortunately for the three involved in the mishap, they were all feeling good enough to argue about fault in the middle of the street before letting it ride and going about their business. The idea of being someones hood ornament doesn’t sit well with me, so I’ll stick with the train and walking, thank you very much. Fascinating machines, these little scooters, with their under seat storage so deep you could practically live in there. About the size of my apartment.

Maybe I could offer that driver a bounty, say a euro for every scooter he picks off until there are none, so I can get some sleep. I think I’ve got that in my spending plan. He’ll need to put a little more oomph in it though, if he’s going to silence the horses. I’m not a total heartless bastard, I’d have him do it down the street in front of the emergency room entrance where they could get patched up quickly, so they could at least still get around on a crutch. There’s a lull in the action now, it’s just before 10 pm and they’re all resting up for their marathon like it or lump it sessions.

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