Scooter Saga

One month prior to Skeeter’s first plane trip.  It was important to us to be responsible travelers, early, prepared and as little bother as possible.  After googling Hawaiian Airlines’ policies, I proceeded to gather as much information as I could. My email We are taking  Hawaiian Airlines flight 39 from PDX to Kahului, Maui 10/28/2011 and have reviewed and printed out all Hawaiian Airlines regulations regarding motorized scooters. There is no assembly/disassembly of the motorized scooter required. I will scoot to the gate and leave the scooter intact to be rolled onto the plane. A standard airline wheelchair from the gate to the plane door would be helpful. I can walk to my seat with assistance from my husband. On arrival in Kahului, I will wait for my scooter at the gate ( prepared to be patient) . I thought that was helpful, direct and simple.  The seller had recommended that we remove anything breakable, not to do any disassembly, take the key, put the scooter in neu

Disclaimer:  You may not like this, particularly if you’re not USA American-born and raised, younger than 50, or male.  If necessary, contact a lawyer. Who’d have thought that Skeeter would help me indulge in one of my guilty pleasures.  I love all sorts of music--the more romantic, dumber and sappier, the better.  I remember a time when all we or American Bandstand cared about was whether you could dance to a song.  Now I can install Pandora radio on my IPhone, make ridiculous stations, not offend anyone, and scoot away.  Skeeter doesn’t have eyes to roll at 50s Doo-wop, early 60s bubble-gum music, Elvis Presley nor can she swoon at the Righteous Brothers or Il Divo.  It’s just me alone and no crap--my idea of heaven.  Earl’s music tastes are a bit more sophisticated. While we do share a love of most music genres  (Beatles, classical, Eagles, country/bluegrass, the 70s troubadors) , there is a line he doesn’t cross; he has some standards.  Not me when I’m scooting alone–unle

Another thing I like about Skeeter--it may take me forever to get dressed for a ride, but I don’t have to worry about what I look like.  Since I wear a helmet, there’s no point in spending time on my hair. Hair combed and out of my face is much easier to accomplish than trying to blow-dry and style with diminished manual dexterity.  Since I wear big sunglasses (not exactly goggles, but close) , very little of my face is visible, so no make-up is called for.  Everytime I decide to go slowly and “really apply makeup carefully this time”, I give up and decide to hell with it.  Poking myself in the eye while applying anything is so not fun.  Why do I even bother?-- vanity, thy name is woman.   As women go, I’m in the mid-range of vanity, but still in the range. Glancing in Skeeter’s rearview mirror, I resemble a bug ; recognizable, but still a bug on a scooter–wearing a helmet.   The main consideration is destination.  If I’m scooting somewhere and taking my helmet and glasses off,

Kyle So I’m scooting along on one of my neighborhood routes and pass the house with the two small children.  “Mom, look at that old lady!  She’s playing music--do you think she has any ice cream?”  Ah, children--they’ve taught me that they can handle most things if I’m direct and honest.  Children don’t worry about what’s polite to say.  If they want to know something, they ask. Unlike adults, who don’t want to embarrass me, children don’t pretend they understand or hear me (that telltale blank stare is a dead give away of a message not received) .  They say so right away.  That’s much easier to deal with--no stress or second-guessing.  Zoe My grandchildren don't mind that I speak slowly, slur my words, need a rollator to walk, scoot from place to place, or take forever to move. I’ve been painted on, stickered on, treated like a big toy, a horse, an easily-bossed person and a game player that always dependably loses.  As a grandparent, I happily don’t have t