Scoot Commute

I thought I heard you

Hitting up Trader Joes and Target

Hitting up Trader Joe's and Target

Rode the Buddy on Monday as I needed to go to Trader Joe’s and Target after work. I had originally planned on then meeting Erik after work so we could ride home together, but I know what happens once I get into Target…a fluorescent-light-induced trance, so I IM’d him before I left saying I’d just meet him at home.

I left campus and headed the old way home, down Valley and onto Plainfield. The area where Broadway/Plainfield/Manton come together is pure madness. As I’m continuing on Dyer (because every street needs three names), a guy who doesn’t really look like he belongs in Silver Lake is standing next to his Harley (parked parallel to the curb, no less, what are you, a dork?), wearing shorts and an orange sherbet colored polo, starts to give me a stupid wave like “how lame is this little scooter?” until I started doing a little weave by shimmying my butt. He started to laugh and then gave me a proper wave. I think he realized how fun it was to be riding a scoot in town.

I had a cop roaring down the street behind me a bit further up, so I pulled over to let him pass. When I got to Cranston Street, I had to wait at the light as the fire truck was just pulling out. A bigger cc scoot (perhaps a People 250?) went by on Cranston and made a whole lot of effort to get my attention. I gave a big head bob.

Made the right onto Route 2 and gave the little pick-up behind me a show before merging up and around by Route 5. I was having such a good time that I actually missed the left turn into the Trader Joe’s parking lot, and had to pull a U-y further up.

Did the shop, had some guy with a weird look in his eye say “hello” in a kinda creepy way. A family with a lot of kids, well, I think there were three but they were all over the place and all talking at the same time, seemed to enjoy blocking every aisle. Got me some carnitas and krumpets among other delicacies. Walking out to the scoot, the weird guy walked by me again and told me to have a good night. He just seemed off, you know.

Packed up the scoot and headed back up Route 2 to Target. Parked up on the sidewalk near the employee emergency exit. I don’t usually park on the sidewalk at shops, but I had the bag from TJ’s in my milkcrate and I thought the liklihood of someone molesting it would be lesser if the scoot was near a doorway.

Good shop at Target; got everything I needed, including boot conditioner as my poor riding boots are a disaster. I don’t know why the toes are such a mess; it’s like zombies wear them at night as they scrape their bony feet across Westminster Street. I picked up some Feline pine and Scoop-away (my cats are not spoiled) without really thinking too much about how I was going to get them home. For some reason I’ve been carrying only a couple bungees so I couldn’t really attached anything to the front rack. I also got a work-out yoga shirt thing that is supposed to have wicking abilities to wear under my mesh jacket when we ride out to Unadilla. I know it’s gonna be a hot, humid and miserable ride.

I paid and headed out to the scoot to pack up. I’m staring at the giant container of the Scoop-away and thinking, hmmm, where are you going to put that? I slipped the pine stuff into my milkcrate next to the TJ’s food, and managed to squish everything else into the pet carrier, save for a box of cinnamon Life. I put that into my trusty New York messenger bag (yeah, the original, not that rip-off Manhattan Portage bag) along with my work shoes and all the other crap I carry around with me (I am a girl, after all), and slung it over my shoulder.

I then went to put my cart away. There was another cart nearby, so I went to grab that one, too. (Yes, my parents did a good job.) But the other cart wouldn’t move; the wheels were stuck. As I’m wrestling with this giant cart, I notice a man standing behind me with a baby cart. I turned to him, spooked, as I didn’t hear him come up. I said, Oh, I’m so sorry to be blocking your way. This cart doesn’t seem to want to move. He thought it might be outside the range (these new Target carts have some kind of RFID or something and the wheels lock when they’re moved outside the perimeter of the parking lot, like the invisible dog fence. He then looks at the scoot and the big bag on my back and the container of cat litter on the sidewalk and says “You’re gonna get all that home?” Sure ’nuff.

Anyway, I abandon trying to return the bad cart, but bring mine over to the return rack. I walk back to the scoot and fire him up. I get back onto Route 2 and at the merge from whatever that road is that Erik comes on from West Warwick, I take an extra long look to see if he might be coming. Mind you, I have no idea of the time, but from the sky, I’m thinking it’s about 6:50/7:00-ish.

I’m scooting along in the fast lane because I’ll merge over a little later when I come to a red light. I stop and I hear a putt-putt-backfire sound and I stand up and start looking all around. There’s the BMW in the asshole lane! Erik never goes in the asshole lane (this is a third lane on the right side that immediately cuts in toward the center lane after the light and only assholes who want to cut you off use that lane), because, you know, he’s not an asshole but he was wanting to catch up with me. I have a big wave and I’m sure the cars were like, they know each other? Nothing like a pink girl on a little scooter hanging with Mr. Rukka on a vintage BMW.

We managed to get together in the same lane further up and ride back home. I’m so glad I ran into him because he carried the cat litter across the street to the house. Perfect timing.


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