Motorcycle Mania

I was all set to write a newsy upbeat blog about our new electric motorcycle, “Scootie” aka “Wind Song”, aka “The Orange Crush”, but today we had an adventure that may change the tone of the piece.

We were on an outing to the “wet market” (like a farmer’s market, but with meats, and other stuff…. not sure why it’s called wet except they wash down the floor to keep it fresh) and we noticed the charge meter showed we only had half a “tank” left of charge until we needed to plug in.  No problem, we were only going 20 minutes away.  As we neared the grocery store/mega-mart, we noticed the power diminishing, like we were running out of gas, it ran on gas.  I suggested we take the scooter to the side of the mega-mart where we purchased it and have them charge it while we purchased the iron and ironing board we needed so our new house-helper could start ironing tomorrow, but we didn’t do it.  WOOPS.

On the way home, it started to rain lightly, but no worries, we both had on our rain ponchos and I was laden with a backpack full of heavy stuff like an extension cord, and produce from the wet market, like bananas and nectarines, and eggs.  A full load, oh and also I was holding a full-sized ironing board in my free hand.  We got about ¼ of the way home before we knew we were in trouble, and about half way before I had to get off and start walking/running, as S. snailed down the street.  Of course the rain picked up a bit, I was blinded because it fell on my glasses, and I decided that I better pick up the pace because I wanted to make sure I could see S. so I knew where to turn.  Thus I began the new workout that resembles part boot-camp (heavy pack on the back, infantry-style rain poncho, helmet, and ironing board that weighed as much as a rifle, I’m sure) and part lunacy.  I ran for 90 seconds, and then walked for 60, and that kept me in sight of S. and breathing pretty hard.  S. got every volt of electricity out of the battery and it lasted until we hit our apartment’s front gate.  I got every volt out of my lungs as well, but the good news was I didn’t have to do a workout when I got home.  My poncho was as wet on the inside with sweat as it was on the outside, and I felt a bit like those wrestlers who wear those rubber suits to sweat off pounds to make their weight class.  I’m not sure if I made mine, but I’m very sure we won’t be leaving the apartment again without more than 50% charge on our battery, or next time S. is doing the infantry two-step while I buzz along.  The remarkable thing is only 1 egg was cracked.  I think I earned some kind of badge today, but I’m not sure if it’s a good one or not.  Is this what people mean when they talk about the adventures of expat living?