Still cold
Here it is April 30 in Tallahassee and it was in the forties this morning. And tomorrow may be 51, not exactly freezing but needing my Blogger hoodie on Swiftcurrent at 7:30 AM. I can wait for summer.
I'm having a bit of trouble mastering the fine art of cornering. Perhaps it's because I have done so much cycling in my life. And Swifty is not balanced like a bicycle. She's much more bottom-heavy - sorry old gal, but that's the truth. The batteries and the motor are under my feet. When I lean to go around a corner, I expect to go over because a bicycle at that angle would just fall. It's been three weeks now and I still can't get myself to trust that Swifty won't fall if I lean a lot more in the corners than I would on a bike. Of course just when I get the technique down I'll go for a ride on my bicycle and fall on my nose in the first corner.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Rainy Monday
Left the house this morning, sky was gray - hey, that sounds like the beginning of a song. But it's merely the truth. And I hopped unthinkingly on Swiftcurrent, barely feeling the first few scattered pinpoints of rain. And, you guessed it, by the time I got out on Apalachee Parkway the rain was driving down. Now I had thought I would take the truck when it rained. I gassed it up yesterday - almost fifty dollars' worth! - for such an eventuality. But I didn't turn Swifty around and put her back in the garage where she'd been sleeping or in a trance or something all weekend, absorbing electrons and dreaming about flying through a lightning storm. That would have been cruel. The little scooter handled the rain just fine. I got wet, but so what? I was dry by the time I had my first cup of coffee made. Now I just have to remember to bring a paper towel out when I go home, to make sure the seat's dry. I should get her a cover. And myself should get me a rain slicker. The all-weather electric motor scooterman! But I also don't want too much paraphernalia. Especially when I recall that the word "paraphernalia" means the gear and gadgets that a bride brought to her new home, which, as I remember, were to be hers alone and separate from her other property, which automatically became her husband's. Ah, the good old days! Of course the sneaky new brides, no doubt at their mothers' promptings, tried to get as much as possible included in paraphernalia. The unwary new husband had to be careful. In those days, love had better not be blind or you'd miss a few valuable objects that could be reposing in your strongbox instead of being concealed beneath piles of underclothes and hats.
Now here's something Swifty could use. I wish I could bring her inside and charge her up. And what I wouldn't give for a lithium-ion battery pack! Not that I really need it, but in a few years when the present set of lead-acids is clapped out, it would be cool to double the range and, perhaps, speed up the recharge process. Until then, I'll just keep it for commuting. And flying through lightning storms.
Left the house this morning, sky was gray - hey, that sounds like the beginning of a song. But it's merely the truth. And I hopped unthinkingly on Swiftcurrent, barely feeling the first few scattered pinpoints of rain. And, you guessed it, by the time I got out on Apalachee Parkway the rain was driving down. Now I had thought I would take the truck when it rained. I gassed it up yesterday - almost fifty dollars' worth! - for such an eventuality. But I didn't turn Swifty around and put her back in the garage where she'd been sleeping or in a trance or something all weekend, absorbing electrons and dreaming about flying through a lightning storm. That would have been cruel. The little scooter handled the rain just fine. I got wet, but so what? I was dry by the time I had my first cup of coffee made. Now I just have to remember to bring a paper towel out when I go home, to make sure the seat's dry. I should get her a cover. And myself should get me a rain slicker. The all-weather electric motor scooterman! But I also don't want too much paraphernalia. Especially when I recall that the word "paraphernalia" means the gear and gadgets that a bride brought to her new home, which, as I remember, were to be hers alone and separate from her other property, which automatically became her husband's. Ah, the good old days! Of course the sneaky new brides, no doubt at their mothers' promptings, tried to get as much as possible included in paraphernalia. The unwary new husband had to be careful. In those days, love had better not be blind or you'd miss a few valuable objects that could be reposing in your strongbox instead of being concealed beneath piles of underclothes and hats.
Now here's something Swifty could use. I wish I could bring her inside and charge her up. And what I wouldn't give for a lithium-ion battery pack! Not that I really need it, but in a few years when the present set of lead-acids is clapped out, it would be cool to double the range and, perhaps, speed up the recharge process. Until then, I'll just keep it for commuting. And flying through lightning storms.
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