Kirk and I bought a scooter.

It’s a Kymco Super 8. The engine’s a whopping 150ccs. You’ve gotta hear it. Purrs like a lawn mower.

And to think, I had you believing that apple pie was badass.

Actually, riding it probably makes us dorkier than we already are. Certainly it makes Kirk look dorky.

Looks aside (who cares about those anyway) … this thing is so much fun! We hop on it, and going out is no longer just about the destination. It’s the ride, too. You get to feel the wind in your hair, smell the ocean breeze, and even feel the rain in your face. (We got caught in some spritz, once.)

And the mileage is awesome: nearly 70 miles to the gallon. With Kirk driving over 100 miles to work every week, leaving the Passat in the garage saves him a lot of money, not to mention wear and tear. Now he spends about $5 a week on gas. How cool is that?!

Kirk’s not the only one who rides the scoot.

That above, my friends, fellow drivers on the road (beware), is MY motorcycle permit. Got it last month after passing a 30 or so question written exam at the DMV. (Scary, right?)

Actually, it’s not that scary. A permit comes with quite a few restrictions. You can’t drive on the freeway, or at night, and you’re not allowed to carry passengers (unless he/she’s an instructor). To get a motorcycle license, you need to prove your skills with a driving test or complete the rider training course.

Kirk gave me quite thorough operating and driving instructions. Now that I’ve had some practice, I plan on taking the driving test next month.

In the mean time …

… watch out. ☼