A couple of years ago, I'd had enough of paying by the minute to scoot about the city on a little motorbike and then park it up somewhere inconvenient. I'd had enough of having to use a special app to locate the bike in the first place and having ten minutes to get on before someone else booked it. The whole rental thing was really bumming me out. It was time to have my own scooter, so I could buzz around like a floating bobble-head without booking in advance. Besides, it'd really help to be able to zip over to the hardware store without having to take Burt and it'd be fun in the summer. I was ready to commit.

I looked and I looked and eventually, I found a bargain, as I knew I would. It was a bargain for a reason, of course, but I've done practically every job you can do on a big engine and I've always had 'em running, so how hard could a little starting trouble be on a 50cc scooter? Pff. Not even worth mentioning.

I took the train out to a distant town and gave the thing a quick test ride. I'll grant you, it did conk out once but I figured I knew why, and as long as I pretended not to, I'd grab it at a good price. It rode home without any trouble. 80km, a respectable test ride. Probably wasn't the best idea to do this on a December evening, thinking back, and by the time I got home, my bum had frozen to the seat, but it was done. I was in the scooter club and I was gonna have a good time.

The next day, keen to enjoy my new toy, I made up a list of things to do in town that would require many stops and a lengthy ride through the city that would be a royal PITA in Burt. There were keys to copy, drinks to buy, friends to see, ATMs to visit and many more exciting adventures. I'd surely be out all day long. The affectionately-named "Scooty" was a little troublesome, first thing, but I got him going and adventures were had. The backbox was full of goodies upon my return and I was a happy lad. When I got home, I parked Scooty next to Burt and smiled like a chihuahua. The next day's adventures would surely be as fruity and important as today's.

In the morning, I found that the next day had come, but so had the trouble. For all the turning, that little engine flat out refused to start. I had to take the battery inside and charge it in the house, such was my struggle. But nothing had changed since yesterday. It was a mystery for now, but not for long. I would have this bike going later today and damned if I wasn't gonna do some more zippin'.

Sadly, this was not to be. That Chinese crap. Over the summer, I replaced practically every part, had that engine in pieces and put it back together, but could I get it going? Nope. Just a pathetic choke, splutter and stall, every single time. I kept thinking I'd cracked it. I was sure, every time. But alas, no. I was defeated by the Scooter from hell and my life as a serious biker had come to an abrupt end. All the brothers I was gonna meet out on the road, all the metal gigs I was gonna turn up to. All gone. Scooty was dead. And with him, the dream.

My adventures on two wheels lasted as long as it took to get them home and pack them away with their kinfolk, the unrealized dreams and unfulfilled life goals.

Next time, I'm buying Japanese, and I don't care what anyone says.

Scooty, serving his primary purpose as an outdoor table for Burt's Mk4 build. A sadder story was never told.