Apparently Hardi's dad was pretty upset that the little narrow boutique store he'd zoomed off to was too narrow for a comfy turn, so he rammed his way through several racks of ladies handbags as he backed and retired several times. The horrified salesman minding the store was still in shock by the time Hardi, following the trail, got there; by then Dad had moved on to God knows where, still in search of the perfect birthday present for Mom. When Hardi got him home, oddly enough Mom didn't get a report on this event..... but I understand there was quite a lecture in the car, Son to Father.
Dad's gone now, but I bet that handbag boutique still warns new employees about him!
Boy, those privately-owned scooters really can go. On one of our last visits with him, Dad had gone off for his aftenoon jaunt around the neighborhood. Mom had taken away his car keys a few years before, so the deal was that he'd not steal them back as long as she didn't say a WORD about the daily sidewalk scootering. And she never did, even after he knocked himself over in the neighbor's yard a couple of times. Anyway, this one summer afternoon he took off on time and, right after he left, a really bad Midwest plains storm blew up. Cold, cold air. Pressure dropping as the green-black wind blew in. Dad had only been wearing a shirt and trousers. We were worried. He was beyond frail....
Now, I'd taken care of Dad a couple of times by then on my own. Mom was afraid that going out to get him would break their deal. But the sky was so bad, I knew we needed to go get him. I said I'd take care of it.
As the skies opened, we came across Dad at the far end of the 'hood. I jumped out and ran up to him. "I wanna go for a RIDE!" I yelled through the screeching wind. "Good idea!" he growled, and got off. "I brought Mom! Can you ride back with her?" "OK!" he replied, and he let me take him to the car. Off they went. Mom gets a little case of leadfoot when she's nervous. I'm sure he was yelling at her for it, too.
As the cold rain soaked me, I faced a grim reality: I'd never operated that scooter, and I had NO IDEA where I was within their suburban maze.
I finally figured out how to make it go, and man! It was fast! Instead of turning around as Dad would likely have done to go home, I went on in the same direction because the place is basically a big oval we'd driven a million times. But it looks different from scooter-level.
I took the wrong fork at the fork. So about 20 minutes later I rounded a bend, and thank God I could actually SEE the house. You know, them scooters don't have windshields, and my glasses were a wet haze. Eyes full of hard-hitting raindrops.
Well, Dad was waiting inside the door. He wasn't worried about me, tho everyone else was.
"Have a good ride?" he growled, with a twinkly grin.