Well, I rode like an expert today. I zipped up and down small mountain roads, mastered the Promenade des Anglais that runs along the ocean, saw beautiful views and let the wind blow through my hair (well, the amount you often see sticking out of the back of a hockey helmet). And this time, from the FRONT of the bike (my scooter), I watched the sun set over Nice's mountains -- the area where the Alps tumble into the Mediterranean.
I felt free. I felt awesome. And then, at one point while I wasn't really driving but was simply walking the scooter around a mini corner, I let it fall over.
I have one tiny little scratch on the back of my right ankle from where I slowly (and very unwillingly) set the scooter down. It was a weird thing to feel happen. It wasn't scary. I haven't had an accident or been unsafe. I've done everything with caution, with the right equipment and with careful instruction.
The scooter was like a horse that was tired of doing tricks and had decided to lie down for a rest -- on my ankle. It refused to be trained.
All I can say is that I'm not French yet, but I'll soon get these strange animals to listen to my whispers and eat out of my hand. I'm determined to break this scooter -- like a horse, not by dropping it again.
I WILL win this war on transportation!
Lovely Awkward: A Year of Wine, Romance and Life Among the French
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