I wish I knew why Harley
riders stare straight through me when I’m coming down the street on
my scooter from the opposite direction.
Sadly, I’m
beginning to suspect American motorcyclists of subscribing to a
caste system in which Harley Davidsons occupy the top tier,
followed by the Euro-touro blends, the bullet bikes, dirt bikes,
and finally, the dung of motorized two-wheeled transportation, the
scooter. I own a scooter. Americans are buying and riding more
gas-saving scooters. Do we have to organize our own rally just to
get a little respect?
It may be that a manifesto tooled
into leather and nailed to a dealership door could make our case
for a new age on the streets. Not everyone who chooses to ride a
scooter is a wimp; clearly, not everyone who rides a Harley is a
rugged individual. I’ve seen the ladies with blue hair driving
their two-wheeled Buicks and believe me, it takes guts to scoot
around on our public roads with only 49ccs under our seats. I’m
proud of my comrades for staying alert, being cautious and sucking
up less gasoline. It’s time the big bikes realized they’re
representing the Hummers and SUVs of the motorcycle world.
If I could market a scooter look — an outfit, say,
that screams “take a ride on the mild side” — maybe
stereotypes would shatter and the thundering chrome classes would
meet us with open arms. Unfortunately, uniforms don’t appeal to
those efficient souls who ride scooters.
Most of us
follow the fashion model dictated by common sense: If it’s cool, we
dress warmly; if it’s warm, we wear something cool; if it’s wet we
try to stay out of the rain. Leather, chains, fringed vests,
beards, braids, and tattoos amount to clutter, and really, there’s
not enough room on a scooter. Trademark insignias and corporate
belonging do little to motivate the modest scootee.
I’m
not sure if it’s a matter of economics or just sour grapes. In many
Western states, scooters with engines under 50ccs need not pay for
endorsement licensing, registration, plates or insurance. They can
even park on the sidewalks. If I were big bike, I’d be upset, but
there’s no need to take it out on us little guys. Let’s be role
models for each other and try to relax: We won’t say anything about
12 bikes lined up in two parking spaces if you’ll just disregard
our wimpy looking shopping baskets.
Being ignored as a
bipedal without pedals only makes matters worse. The scooter rider
already feels invisible at the traffic light, but here’s the most
embarrassing part. I’ve arrived at intersections early in the
morning when no traffic is forthcoming, especially from side
streets. I pull up to the crosswalk where the traffic signal should
get some sense of my presence, but nothing happens. The light stays
red for me, green for the rest of humanity. I could sit a full five
minutes wrapped in my invisibility cloak, waiting for the signal to
change, waiting for another vehicle to pull up. Once I even put my
scooter up on its center stand and jogged over to push the
pedestrian crosswalk button. The light changed, but it mistook me
for a pedestrian.
Lately, I’ve taken to simply looking
both ways for traffic and scooting across the intersection
regardless of what the light tells me to do. Hey, what I’m doing
amounts to a blatant disregard for authority — just like any
good Harley rider.
David Feela is a contributor
to Writers on the Range, a service of High Country
News in Paonia, Colorado (hcn.org). He is a teacher,
writer and proud scooter owner in Cortez,
Colorado.
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