This scooter makes my a$$ look good, Part Deux!

"Hey, baby -- if I stare at the side of your head
long and hard enough, will you give me a ride?"

I wrote a blog a few months ago about being hit on at a stop light. Seriously, it's weird. I get hit on more on my scooter than I do in bars, which leads me to believe men really like women who drive vehicles they have to straddle.

So, I'm recording two more incidents here for your amusement. I work hard for you.

A couple months ago, I followed some friends' cab to our second locale for the evening on my scooter. Apparently, their cab driver took a fancy to me and told them he thought I was really cute, and my friends decided to be in a good mood and actually said nice things about me. Now, I always feel fairly certain that I look like a complete and total dork in my helmet, as I have said before, so I'm never in the mindset that a man will find me irresistible as such. But he ended up asking me for my phone number after I fake drag-raced him to the bar. (<-- Ladies, feel free to use that one. It's cute and silly, and it gives the driver a chance to be manipulative charming and let you win.) My brief time with the cabbie did not turn into eternal, dying love, as one might imagine, but I did get a fun ride-along date out of it -- meaning, I rode with him in his cab on a couple of client pick-ups, you pervs. And now every time I see a Yellow Cab drive by, I can fondly (bemusedly?) think back on a relatively crazy, pot-smoking, ex-military, mostly-bad-boy-with-tattoos cab driver who at least was nice to me and didn't throw me in his trunk and take me to a deserted warehouse and handcuff me to a pipe where hot steam would soon blast in and and melt off my face (please tell me you get the 1999 "The Bone Collector" movie reference there, lest you think I'm really, really, REALLY creepy).

The other story was a few weeks ago. I was sitting at a light around 10 pm downtown when I became vaguely conscious of a man on a motorcycle to my left, softly revving his motor (yes, because as you know, the sound of revving motors really makes our lady bits tremble, fellas!). Again, because of the helmet-dork-factor coupled with the fact that most motorcyclists' reactions to me on my scooter range from condescending smiles to outright disdain, I wasn't really thinking he was trying to get my attention. When the revving failed to make me squeal with delight like I'm sure he was used to, however, he called over to me, "Hey, you look good on that bike!" He had this really ridiculous "seductive" look on his face, as he continued, "Wanna take a RIDE with me?" Oh, good Lord. Props for effort, laughs for delivery, my friend. I laughed, shook my head, and said, "No thank you!" He took off ahead of me when the green light turned, and I'm glad I wasn't actually interested, because his stupid Harley almost made my ears bleed. (Pointed look of outright disdain.)

In conclusion: I'm just sayin', if you're single, a scooter could seriously improve your odds (with some odd men, but as we get older we become far less picky, am I right, ladies?).

Dog days of summer

"We put our sunscreen on this morning!
Too bad it won't prevent the 3-inch deep
road rash and head wounds we'll suffer
when we wreck this scooter because there
are too many of us on it -- oh, fiddlesticks,
sunscreen hasn't been invented yet.
WE'RE SCREWED!"

Being a fair-skinned, natural redhead, admittedly, I'm not a huge fan of the summer months. Despite my careful attention to the matter most of the time, on more than one occasion our ever-present, glowing ember in the sky has bitch-slapped me with unflattering and unhealthy burns. Also, the heat in the summer. I'm a Colorado Native and grew up in the coldest room in my parent's house. These days, I'm totally fine sleeping with the windows open in 30-degree weather.

OK, what's your point, Scooter Lass? I'm getting there, patient and gentle reader. Aside from the whole giving and sustaining life thing that I can totally gel with, there is one reason I welcome the sun in the summer months: scooting. As bad-ass as I feel being able to boast scooting a couple miles in 20-degree, snowy weather, the truth is: IT SUCKS. As you can only imagine (and then triple it, freeze it, break it into a million pieces, and cry a lot).

So, yes...the summer is coming, and I've already enjoyed my 35-mile round-trip scooter commute to work several times. Without thoughts of, "the cold may just murder me in the heart with ice shards any second now," I'm free to look around, watch the trees bloom, smell the smells of the city (pot... mostly pot...), and generally enjoy myself on the scooter again.

Now, summer is kinda cool and all for the outdoors aspect, but heed one warning...

Scooter Lass's important public service announcement for summer: For the love of God and universe and Buddha and whatever the hell you believe in, WEAR YOUR DAMN SUNSCREEN. Here's why:

1. It's not that expensive. 
2. It takes about five minutes to put on in the morning.
3. Vanity appeal: It keeps the wrinkles at bay.
4. Super vanity appeal: People who wear sunscreen are SEXY (it's written on the label).
5. And, kinda most importantly, it SAVES YOUR LIFE. I mean it. One of our close family friends who used to tan all the time died from complications of melanoma in the spinal region -- it took her fast and furious. And very painfully. This is a completely preventable death! Don't be stupid.
6. Don't be stupid (that one bears repeating).

And, by the way, thank you Mama Scooter Lass for making me wear sunscreen, hat, and a turtleneck (yes -- a turtleneck) over my bathing suit at the beach when I was wee. I was embarrassed, impatient, and ticked at the time, but now having people think I'm at least five years younger these days is really kind of nice. Yeah, I said it.

In conclusion: Scoot safe! Sunscreen up! Don't be stupid! Wear a turtleneck at the beach and LIKE IT! Now, you tell me: what excites you most about summer?