Gasoline isn’t getting any cheaper...maybe it’s time to get a scooter?
It has been two years since my rusted out 1959 Vespa motor scooter has been operational. With gas prices rising again, I long for the days when I could cruise around the streets of San Diego for a full week on a gallon of gas and a dollop of oil. My thirst for thrifty transit led me to drag Dwayne, Isabel and Mauricio away from our cubicles early Wednesday afternoon to test-drive the new crop of two-wheeled transportation.
We hopped over the bridge to South Side and wound our way down 7th street through the burgeoning lofts and apartments. There we found Scoot Richmond, an innocuous brick building tucked behind Legend Brewery. You wouldn’t know it was there unless you were looking for it, and you wouldn’t know what it was without the painted wooden signs out front. Chelsea Lahmers, matriarch of the motor scooters, greeted us with a smile and welcomed us inside.
We marveled at the gleaming chrome and Chelsea led us over to the towering rack of gloves and jackets. “Half the fun of buying a scooter is picking out the gear,” she said as she plopped a bulbous full-face helmet on Isabel’s head and had her shake around to test the fit. “Is it too loose? Too tight? Is your brain squishing out of your ears?”
“Now you,” Chelsea pointed to Mauricio, “pick one you like.” Mauricio chose a half- shell Davida helmet. “Hmm… how about THIS one instead?” She pulled out a flip front three-quarter helmet that offered full face protection. “You have nice teeth. Teeth are a good look for you. I think you should keep them.” Dwayne picked a similar helmet, preferring to keep his teeth, and I brought my own brain bucket, because I’m special.
Chelsea handed us off to Dave Munn, who took us to the parking lot behind the shop. There we found seven small scooters waiting for us. “Who’s had any riding experience?” Dave asked, looking us over. “Not you, I know you’re good for it,” he said pointing at me, “What about the rest of you?”
Dwayne used to ride dirt bikes when he was a kid. Mauricio commutes daily on his bicycle, and Isabel… she didn’t even ride a bike. “It’ll be fine!” exclaimed Dave, “There’s not a person in town that I couldn’t teach to ride one of these things with a couple hours worth of practice. You’re first. Pick one.”
Isabel walked nervously over to the smallest bike, a dark blue and black SYM DD50. Dave showed her how to start it up – turn the key, hold the brake, push the button – and “VROOOM” the little scooter came to life. He explained the gas on the right of the headset and the brakes on either side and took a big step back as she rolled back the throttle and lurched forward.
Panicked, she slammed on the brakes as Dave jogged the few feet to catch up. “That was perfect. Try again.”
Lurch. Stop. Laugh. Lurch. Stop. Scream. Turning seemed to be a slight issue, but mostly it was not having quite enough speed to maintain balance. Dwayne and Mauricio were looking eagerly at the other bikes so I continued to coach Isabel while Dave set Mauricio up on an orange and beige Mio50.
Mauricio sped past Isabel, but not by much. He overbalanced while slowing down and had to stick out a foot to keep from laying the bike down. Dave ran over to get him re-situated and Mauricio wobbled to the end of the parking lot, walked the bike through a u-turn and sped back with slightly more stability. Unable to wait any longer, Dwayne hopped on the silver Jet Euro 50 and raced confidently back and forth across the blacktop.
I picked out the Black Cat, a red and yellow “firecracker” themed scooter and looked down at the console. Turn signals? Gas gauges? Push button starters? This was a far cry from the bare-bones headset on my vintage scoot, with its cracked, non-fuctioning speedometer. No tedious kick-starting required, but also no roar, rattle or cloud of two-stroke engine smoke. No shifting. And Dave explained that these 50cc scooters didn’t even require a Motorcycles license. These little scooters really are “Twist and Go.”
Twist and go I did. I pulled back gingerly on the throttle, afraid that the bike might jump out from under me if I gave it too much gas, but the automatic transmission has a split second delay that kept the clutch from popping.  Soon, I was streaking down the parking lot. The cold air made my eyes water and stung my knuckles as I did my best to avoid Mauricio and Dwayne, who were weaving around the parked cars.
I swung back to the starting point and had Isabel hop on the back so she could get used to the feel of balancing on two wheels. We took a couple laps around the block and when I brought her back to the starting point, she hopped right back on the Mio50 and tried again, this time making several slightly more confident passes up and down the asphalt. We took turns swapping bikes until the sun started to set. Mauricio hadn’t yet smashed into a parked car, so we decided not to press our luck and helped Dave haul the bikes back up to the showroom.
We were smiling broadly as Chelsea asked us how we did and what we thought. She showed us some of the larger, more powerful scooters. “These hit speeds of 50 to 60 miles per hour and require an M-class license from the DMV. And this one,” Chelsea pointed to a silver scooter with Rattler 110 emblazoned on the side “will make you drive like an idiot it’s so much fun.” We thanked Chelsea and Dave for their time and as we left, wished among ourselves that we could be riding home on a new scooter. 

Beware that you can no longer park a scooter on the sidewalk at VCU!
Read about the details here:
http://www.people.vcu.edu/~kmjacobs/scoot.htm