A Scooter Dream

I'd deny dreaming often except for the body of documented research that says that we all dream every night but simply don't remember most of our dreams. I suppose in my case that forgetting is a good thing because I can remember in lurid, horrifying detail some of the nightmares I had before I was even old enough to go to school. It's rare that I can awaken on any particular morning with any recollection of even a wisp of a dream, but this morning I came awake remembering quite a bit about a dream in which I was riding a scooter.

Now, remember, this is a dream so what I was riding wasn't just any scooter. It was an awesome one! It was the City of Wilkes-Barre's street cleaning scooter! The city, during waking hours, actually has those big white monstrosities that most municipalities have with the huge brushes (that seem to move street dirt around without actually picking it up) and operator's controls on both sides of the cab. At night, however, in scooter riders' dreams, the city brings out the cherry red monster scooters with single brushes beneath them, and last night it was my turn to clean the streets.

The scooter itself was enormous. Thank God I hadn't had to slow enough to had to have to put my feet down because I'd have gone over in a heartbeat. For scale purposes I doctored this image of my old Fly50 to show you the approximate size of the street cleaning scooter compared to the diminutive stance of its operator.

I distinctly recall someone in the dream calling out to me, "How did you learn to ride that?" as well as my response: "I started on a much smaller scooter, learned on that, and then worked my way up!" I remember riding for a while over the tree lawn near the river before making my way onto the street. At that point I woke up which was good because if I had looked for the switch to have started up that big brush under the scooter, well - I can't imagine that my balance would have been maintained much longer. One of my big clod hoppers would have had to have come down and disaster would have been right on its heels.

I rolled over and went back to sleep. Sometime between then and when my alarm went off I dropped by my deceased father-in-law's house for a beer at lunchtime on a work day. He waved to me as I made my way to his refrigerator for a cold one. He looked remarkably good for having been departed for five years.