racing mobility scooter

Often time’s people have asked me if it isn’t dangerous to ride a mobility scooter with three wheels. I always thought that was the weirdest question, and certainly a poor argument to not want one because of just that. I never in my mobility scooter career have ever flipped over, nor did I believe that was even possible, because it only has two pictures of speed to choose from, go as slow as a turtle, or as fast as a hare. And I for one, have never seen a turtle or a hare flip over, when making a turn.

So, it might be the strong believe of safety, that I became a little overconfident, and always try to push the maximum out of my ride. With my navigator Kuzco, sitting at my feet, I often feel like camel trophy meets superbike, crossing the many tight hairpin turns throughout the dunes, sometimes covered with wind-blown sand. And we always end smooth and safely at the beach or back up again.

Me and my navigator had things going smoothly, without even saying a word, we understood what was needed. The cooperation was magnificent. I’m sure we would have won every race, if there were any, just by us working so well together.

Until a few days ago.

I could only just write about this after a couple of days when it happened, because my pride was seriously dented. After some good old fashioned mental coaching from Ramon, helping me out of my disbelieve. Was it me, or was it Kuzco who was distracted for a moment, or was it too much sand on the road. It couldn’t be my misjudging the turn, the speed, nor the exact timing of hitting the accelerator. We were the masters of the mobility scooters! This wasn’t supposed to happen.

While we were steering through the fourth hairpin turn, there was something that made us spin out of course and made a flip over, just to land in thistles and catch weed. We both stayed in driving position while we flipped, so Kuzco’s left side was covered in millions of sticky seeds, and I had a left side that looked like a page written in cuneiform script. All the thistles left each its own scratch.

And while Kuzco and I lay there like two little turtles on their back, Ramon, who was on his bicycle behind us, stopped only to laugh really hard and loud. No help there, what so ever. I even thought I heard him say through all the chuckles, and gasping for air, ‘why do still sit in that chair as though you still riding. That looks so silly!!’

With a blind spot covering my eyes for a second, I pushed the scooter back on its wheels, as if I was a healthy strongman on his strongman champion’s league. I even think I could lift it up and put it on a barrel, but instead I got back on my chair, and placed Kuzco between my feet, and proceeded the course. Only this time a bit more careful.