The Christmas of 2006 Joe bought me this Metropolitan Scooter. He has a love of motorcycles and has talked for years about getting two of them for us to ride on a cross country trip.
I like to ride them but I don’t like to drive them and every time he brings the subject up I tell him I’d ride but I won’t drive.
I think his intent was to get me used to driving a “motorcycle” by starting me out small. Hasn’t worked. There used to be speed bumps on our street and I nearly ran people over, had a head on collision with an incoming pickup truck, and drove up on someone’s lawn and just missed the steps going into their home. All that on just this one street. Reinforced my thinking of not wanting to drive the bigger motorcycle.
Joe drives it to the grocery store when we only need a couple things, or to the local Walgreens to get his prescriptions. He loves it. I keep telling him to trade Polly in for a real motorcycle but he is really reluctant to do that. He feels like he is giving my “Christmas present” away or taking it away. This is different all together. Polly will not get used if it were not for him driving her. He could use a larger motorcycle instead of being smooshed up on Polly.
Yesterday he decided to take Polly out for a drive to the bank. He’s done that several times so I told him I loved him on his way out the door. Our normal thing.
I went about my business in the house until I heard a faint “Leslie”. Joe had left, but it sounded like him. I went out the front door to make sure I really did hear my name being called.
Joe was on his hands and knees in the grass. He was not making any moves to get up. What was going on here? He had left to go to the bank but he’s now investigating something on the lawn? What’s up with this?
Then I saw Polly was on the ground, he was on the ground.
I hurried down the steps. No blood dripping that I could see. His arms weren’t broken since they were holding him up off the ground. As I neared him I saw his hat was about 10 feet in front of him, his glasses which hang around his neck on a pink cord were about 3 feet to his left, pens from his shirt pocket were littered on the grass, and his cell phone headset had not made it as far as his hat had. All this in about 4 seconds I saw as I ran down the steps.
As I neared him his head was jerking. He was laughing. That was either a good sign or a bad sign. Hope it was a good sign.
“Are you alright? Can you move? Anything broken?” I peppered him with questions all the while he was laughing. “I just need help up” is what he told me when he finally stopped laughing. The next few minutes were spent in trying to figure out the best way for him to acquire leverage on me to get up from the ground. First I took the proffered arm and tried to give him a steady and strong arm to lean on. That wasn’t going to work. I went around behind him and wrapped my arms around him under his arms and tried to lift. All I succeeded in doing was opening his shirt. I went back in front of him and parked myself cross ways then bent over so he could use my back and hip to lean on and hoist himself up.
When he was fully standing I got the whole story. Polly has an automatic transmission. Joe had her running, then before he got seated he revved up the engine and away she went. Knocking Joe off balance and the two of them went down hard. We got Polly back upright and the kick stand in place.
After I got him inside and checked over, cleaned his wounds and stemmed the trickle of blood from his knee, making sure he was truly good and well, Joe went back outside. He and Polly were off to the bank.
He is sore and a bit stove up. When it is time to leave today he is going to have a really hard time getting up in the trucks we are delivering to Fontana, California. My poor Honey Bunny.
I have driven Polly one time outside of our trailer park. There is a street a few blocks away in an industrial area. It was a Saturday so no cars were parked along the curbs and there was no traffic on that road. I drove Polly carefully out of the trailer park, over the speed bumps and to the open road. I needed to get used to her and find my balance on her. This street was the ideal place for me to do that. There is a long “S” curve so I would have to learn how to handle her in turns and remain upright.
The first trip down this mile long road went very well. I gained some confidence in her and I thought I was driving pretty fast. At this time I had long hair, as in the picture. I could feel my hair blowing in the wind as I drove at break neck speed.
I got Polly turned around and decided I’d see how fast I could go on the way back. I was positive I had her up to the 50 miles an hour she would do.
Polly and I were flying down this road. The wind was whipping my hair around, the transmission was fully engaged, industrial business buildings were going past me in a blur. Maybe I could drive a motorcycle all by myself.
I glanced down at the speedometer. 10 miles an hour.
So now she sits, waiting patiently for Joe to take her out and open her up on the busy streets in the town we live in.