Scooter-Driving Cherry-Popping
Finally I did it. I am no longer a scooter driving virgin. Call me the Uneasy Rider. Yesterday afternoon, after a long walk in the morning, I took the plunge and rented a scooter. Of course, I probably should have done it while I was staying on Lembongan, a flat, low-key place with few cars. But, no, I waited until I arrived on Penida, a hilly, large, somewhat more busy island that has more cars driving on equally narrow and rough street surfaces. But the price was super cheap, the scooter right outside the front gate of my stay, so, yeah, it happened here instead of the easier place to try. Those that have known me awhile will nod knowingly. “Of course he did it when it was more difficult. Can’t just dive, gotta be an instructor. Can’t just run, have to go long. What an idiot.”
My experience wasn’t bad, but it really wasn’t like riding a bike. Thankfully, no blood, no near crashes. I took it easy, didn’t get going too fast, and worked on making my turns and curves smooth and even. I was definitely the rookie out there, and everyone passed me by, but like I said, no blood! The additional factor of riding on the wrong side of the road made it a bit more head-wrecking. Again, not terrible, but I did have to remind myself to stay left and overcome decades of muscle memory to go to the right.
After years and decades of riding bikes, the transition was odd. First off, my feet are not straddling the machine, which for some reason, they wanted to do. I constantly had to remind my feet to be on the platform in front of me. (See reference to muscle memory, above.) I couldn’t help thinking that I was some demure damsel with knees firmly touching each other. All I needed was a scarf flapping in the wind and cat-eye sunglasses to look the part. Imagine some 1950’s movie star in a convertible, and that was me. Well, if you ditch the cat-eyes, scarf, hair, and convertible, and stick on a helmet and face scruff.
My knees weren’t actually touching, but you get the picture. No sprawling wide, no straddle. “Please keep your feet inside the vehicle at all times,” kind of thing. Except when stopping. At which time it’s vitally important to have at least one foot out. Otherwise it’s a fall-over much like when I can’t get my feet out of the clips on a road bike. Yeah, I’ve fallen over.
All in all, it was generally fun. I noticed I don’t lean into the turns as I should, and I’m going to work on that. Analysis revealed I was trying to simply move my legs to the sides to shift the center of gravity. On a lightweight bicycle that’s generally enough, but on a scooter that probably weighs nearly as much as I do, not so much. I’ve got the beast for another day (at least), and I’m going to head out for more saddle time earlier today. I want to get out before the day-trippers arrive from Bali, and the roads get filled with them in the hired cars going from one Insta-point to the next.
My stay is okay. The AC in the unit struggles to get the temp down to 24 in the evening, and has paper thin walls. Someone in the permanent living quarters next to me has issues with congestion. I get to hear a play-by-play of throat clearing, hacking and coughing for a couple of hours each night. And last night, someone down the road was singing some non-melodic, I think religious stuff for about 90 minutes. Amplified. I would have cheered a spot power outage.
I’m tempted to ask for another room because of the AC. Tempted, but I don’t know if I will. I’ll likely bring it to their attention, in case the next guest is more critical. Generally speaking, it’s not that bad, and by about 10 pm or so, I am comfortable enough. And there is the wasp nest above the door. The resident is about 3 cm long. He (she?) did buzz my head one time on approach, but I am in the tropics, on an island, in the woods. And I’m only here for a few more nights, so…
In other news, why doesn’t the USA typically have bum guns in the bathrooms? Me likey.
Enjoy the pics.
Wet footprints for the win. Maybe join one of the Vespa motorcycle gangs next time you’re in Europe?