Never Race a Truck on a Scooty-Pep
Motivated by our consistently poor grades in science, especially Math, my friends and I had decided to enroll in extra classes in the neighboring town. The lady who taught these classes was an exceptional teacher and amazing mentor, and we found ourselves making significant progress under her guidance. The only issue with this undertaking was our commute. I would have to wake up at 5 AM every morning and drive almost an hour on a state highway in the freezing cold, all the while fighting the urge to close my eyes for just a moment.
What certainly did not help my unpleasant drive was the mode of transport - my mom’s Scooty-Pep. For readers who are unaware of what a Scooty is, you must imagine the most petite and feeble moped there ever was and ever will be. Now you must imagine my towering 6’5’’ frame perched atop this tiny moped, barely fitting my long limbs on its floorboard. Every morning, I would ride at dawn with my closest friends Shreyas and Suraj, hoping to become wise in the ways of science.
One particularly cold winter morning, I found myself waiting for my friends who were fast asleep in their warm blankets. After a few minutes of waiting, I decided to set out on my own. I bundled up in multiple layers of clothing, starting with a thermal suit and adding a jacket and gloves to the mix. I even wore my childhood Scooby Doo gloves, which surprisingly fit me even after 9 years of use. I wrapped a long scarf around my head to protect my face from the biting cold, giving me the appearance of an Egyptian mummy - not exactly the look I was going for. Fully covered and with all my books in tow, I began my daily adventure, knowing I will be back in three hours - two on the days I was confident about my driving.
Most days, the drive was uneventful. It was just me and some truck drivers sleepily driving on a state highway with no aspirations and existential crises. Occasionally, I had to drive past traffic police, worried they would catch me for underage driving. But more often than not, they were preoccupied extracting bribes from truck drivers, leaving me to make my journey unbothered. On some occasions, when necessary, I would drive way past the safe speed, but only on sections of the road I knew well. I had memorized every pothole and dip, allowing me to maneuver them gracefully while maintaining my “top-speed” of 40 km/h (24 mph). Looking back on those days, I wish I could describe myself as living a “thug life,” but the image of me on a Scooty Pep dispels any notions of toughness.
On this particular day, I was already 15 minutes late and decided to speed through a section without any potholes. I started gaining speed. The scarf covering my face had come undone and freezing wind was hitting my face causing my eyes to tear up. I decided to power through, for the sake of not wanting to attend the class standing outside through the window - the usual punishment for being late. Suddenly, out of nowhere a large truck appear on my rear-view mirror and it was much closer than it appeared. It was speeding through the adjacent lane and I couldn’t see any other travelers, so I assured myself that it was safe to maintain my speed.
As the truck caught up with me, its wobbly rear end was next to me. The truck was carrying an unsafe load of wood, reminding me of scenes from the Final Destination movies - not a pleasant image to have in mind while driving. Slowing down wasn’t an option for me, so I decided to accelerate to reach the front end of the truck. However, I failed to notice that a recent construction project had caused a dip in the road. The truck’s front end easily passed over the dip, which gave me an incorrect sense of the severity of the dip. As I hit the dip, I was launched into the air for a few moments of enlightenment before being slammed back onto the seat for a few moments of realization. When I landed back on the road, I had lost all control, but fortunately, the moped did not tip over, saving me from being crushed by the truck’s rear end. As soon as I regained control, I pulled over to the side of the road. My ears felt hot.
I was late to the class that day, but I did not get punished. Turns out people are not as irrational as we make them out to be. Later, I told my parents about what had happened. Their first reaction was of shock. They looked at me and with a stern voice my dad said, “Never again. Okay?”
I nodded. In that moment, my parents shared a glance, and started laughing - something they have always done. I was confused as to why me almost dying was something to laugh about. My mom noticed the incredulous look on my face. “It is probably a good lesson to learn” “What lesson?” “You will figure it out.”