An open letter.

To the teenager driving around Lake Calhoun on Tuesday:

When I saw you stick your head out the window as we passed, in the back of my mind I thought you were going to offer me a kind, cheerful word. Perhaps you had once experienced the joy of two wheels and known the pain of winter, thus understanding the importance behind the first ride of the season.

Nope. You shouted, “Fucko!”

Having a hard time remembering me? Let me help you: I was the only guy driving a Robin’s-egg-blue Stella named Shirley around Lake Calhoun that you shouted “Fucko!” at on Tuesday.

As much as I should be angered by your name calling, I was simply amused that of all the derogatory names I’ve been called, you chose “Fucko.” That’s fun with a capital “F!”

So thank you for amusing me. I hope I amused you just as much. If not, here’s a list of items confirming the fact that yes, I am a “Fucko:”

 

  • My scooter, Shirley, has a name.

  • In under a year, I put 7,000 miles of scooter travel under my belt and that’s not make-believe.

  • I’ve driven scooters through 11 states.

  • In one day I drove 600 miles, alone, through New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and into Ohio.

  • The elements don’t scare me: I’ve driven in sub-zero temperatures, rain, sleet, snow, and through Amish Country.

  • Only people that ride scooters can get away with a color like this:

  • The Wisconsin State Patrol issued me a ticket for being too happy while operating a scooter.

  • Within 72 hours of owning my scooter, I drove over 100 miles. In the winter.

  • Scooters are natural born leaders. So are the people that drive them.

  • This is what a “Fucko” looks like with a mustache:

  • Being a “Fucko” can be sexy too though:

  • Scooter enthusiasts also enjoy award winning beer.

  • This is what happens to a person when they ride in the summer all day for two weeks without sun-screen:

  • Chicks dig scooters. Enough said.

  • I can pop a wheelie.