One goal. Many paths
Journeys begin with choices
How far must I go?
If there is one thing I really have to thank my soon-to-be ex-wife for (apart from hyphen-overload, of course), it’s for giving me a new perspective on personal travel. At the beginning of our separation, she appropriated the Family Chariot for her own and exclusive use, leaving me to skitter about on my scooter whenever the business of getting from A to B becomes a necessity.
Now while I enjoy my scooter immensely, having to don a helmet, gloves and jacket in the middle of the Cape Town summer is unpleasant in the extreme. Two-wheeled transport is dangerous enough as it is, but during December, I have to share the road with WAY too many motorised maniacs to even contemplate leaving my protective gear behind. I am able to cool down on longer journeys, but when it comes to short trips to the shops, I emerge from my leather cocoon all sweaty and utterly disreputable-looking. I often end up with a large contingent of mall security guards trying to tail me unobtrusively (the radios give you away, boys), because I certainly look guilty of something.
The solution? If I need to go somewhere that’s only a few kilometres away, I saddle up shank’s mare. It may take a bit longer, but at least nobody thinks I’m a criminal.