I’ve been commuting to work for the past two months on a Honda Jazz scooter, which I luuuv. It’s a 49cc with a top speed of about 60-65km / hour. To the average person, that doesn’t seem too fast. But, when there’s nothing between you and the open road except for your clothes, it’s plenty fast. As my friend Brendan likes to say, “it’s fast enough when you’re being launched.”
This morning, I came to a red light at a fairly busy intersection on a four lane stretch of road known as the King’s Highway (Lakeshore for you locals), and I’m first in line for the green. Out of the corner of my eye I see a vehicle too small to be a car, though much larger than your average motorcycle, pull up in the lane beside me. The deep sound of its rumbling engine barely masks the blare of a radio. I turn my head to see a leather-clad man, who I’m guessing is in his mid-60s, sitting on a Honda Goldwing (the big fucker – it’s got a _radio_ for Chirssakes!), cigarette hanging from his open-faced helmet. I do the polite thing and nod as if to say “Good morning, my motorized two-wheeler urban coummuting brethren. A fine morning, ’tis. Would you not concur?” Our friendly, yet brief exchange went _exactly_ like this:
MAN: (smiling) You wanna race?
ME: (without missing a beat) Okay. I’ll give you a head start.
Well, I thought it was pretty fucking funny.