Chapter 20: The Scooter

A classic story about my mom, a scooter, and the ditch.

Author’s Note: My mom was still with us when this was originally published. A special shout-out to her, as we used to tell this embarrassing story often … and she laughed right along.

This picture was taken the summer of “the scooter incident”. Not only did I have aerodynamic hair, but it turned red from all the iron in our water. Plus there is way too much stone washed denim going on here.

If “America’s Funniest Home Videos” (and YouTube) have taught us anything, it’s that Americans find great entertainment value when other people have accidents – as long as nobody is seriously hurt, of course. This story is no exception, with apologies to my long-suffering mother, who has had to endure its countless retellings.

I take you back to the summer my brother Dan had escaped from the slave-like conditions of door-to-door book sales. When we had gotten back home to Marinette, he’d ended up getting a job as a harbormaster at one of the local marinas. Dan knew nothing about life on the water, but he was a quick learner. Soon he was working the radio, filling up boats with gas, and directing all of the marina traffic. He didn’t have a car, so my parents decided to buy a small red scooter (called a “Razz”) to get him to and from work every day. Dan claimed the Razz’s top speed was 30 mph, “downhill, with the wind at your back.” That all worked out nicely until the weekend he had decided to take a trip to Chicago to see some friends.

Mom took one for the team and told Dan he could borrow her car for the trip. She still needed some way to get to work, however, so she decided to learn how to use the Razz. After the 50th time we told this story, Mom needed to remind everyone that we were overlooking her generosity.

“I was kind enough to say you could have the car so you could go to Chicahhhgo. To see all your Chicahhhgo friends.”

She drew out the syllables like she was on an episode of “Bill Swerski’s Super Fans.” (We lived 50 miles from Green Bay, so what’d you expect? Those friends were from enemy territory, and Dan was fraternizing with the enemy … literally. One of his frat buddies was actually a McCaskey. It stung.)

Right before Dan was scheduled to leave on his trip, Mom decided to practice driving the scooter.

“Now to make it accelerate,” Dan explained to her, “you just twist the handlebars like this, nice and easy.”

Mom headed down the hill that was our driveway, except she clearly underestimated the power and acceleration of the Razz. To hear Dan tell it, “She never let up! She went down the driveway at full speed and ended up in the ditch on the other side of the road, after doing a few somersaults.”

And no, she hadn’t been wearing a helmet. (Apparently, safety really hasn’t ever been a thing in my family, with the firm exception of deer hunting. Other than that, we don’t have any dangerous hobbies, unless you count Mom’s reckless picture-hanging tactics; she shuns the use of rulers, levels, and stud-finders, yet it all seems to work out okay.)

Dan ran down the driveway, sure that Mom had suffered at least a broken bone or two.

She looked at Dan oddly.

“What happened?”

“Mom, you had an accident on the scooter and ended up in the ditch. Are you okay? Can you move?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Dan helped her to her feet and slowly walked her up the driveway. She seemed fine – at first.

“Well if you’re really okay, then I’m going to pack up and get going.”

“What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“Uh … Chicago? I’ve had this trip planned for weeks? I’m taking the car?”

“Oh yeah. Okay.”

“Mom, you don’t sound good. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. But just tell me again what happened.”
“Mom, you had an accident on the scooter and hit your head.”

By that time they’d gotten into the house, and Mom had plunked down in the recliner. She had actual grass stains on her face.

“Mom, I’ve got to take you to the hospital.”

That set off Mom, and she suddenly turned from dazed and confused to straight-up angry.

“NO!! I’m perfectly fine! But just tell me ONE. MORE. TIME! What happened?”

Dan somehow had managed to wrestle her into the car and get her to the hospital.

Dan eventually did make it to Chicago, albeit several hours late.

Mom never did get on a scooter again, but we still like to give her Razz-berries about this story.