Xu Xin Xia's Blog: How I Feel About Life - Posts Tagged "scooter"

I have found a small pleasure in living. For the last two years, when I go outside, I don't wear shoes. I stride in the grass, stroll down the sidewalk, march along the street feeling the pavement against my soles. And it is at that moment, I enjoy living. I wish I had discovered barefoot pleasure a long time ago. I wish I had been more of an outcast in my teens, more courageous, more daring, more me. Because having no shoes matches my personality. Something about my naked soles touching the earth makes me feel more human. I am more aware. I don't just go about my day with blind obedience. I soak in and absorb the feeling of the ground. I am connected with the universe.
I walk into Price Chopper, Target, and CVS barefooted. The eye doctor, the dentist, and any other hospital checkup will greet me without shoes.
I drive a 150cc scooter, so I cruise the road placing my toes on the hot or cold asphalt all year round. The bottoms of my bare feet blacker than the road.
My toes have grown stronger. My soles have bloomed thicker. I am now more used to the hard unforgiving concrete, the unyielding rocks, the inflexible pebbles, the shocking thorns. I have stepped in dog shit, stumbled upon nails, wondered thru broken glass, threaded across scorching sand and slippery ice. And I loved every second of it.
I soak, wash, and scrub my feet daily, and I walk with more confidence because I know I am not doing what everyone else is doing. I sometimes go out in public with a large butt plug vibrating in my anus. In the summer, I wear gym shorts that hug my ass and show a lot of leg. People will pretend not to stare at my legs and tootsies, but women seem to like my bare feet the most. They ogle, smile, and sometimes comment. And I feel proud of myself. But occasionally, I run into those that do not agree with the new way I go about pursuing my day. Walmart has a “no shirt, no shoes, no service” policy that is only enforced when I run into someone that doesn't like the way I look. But honestly, most people and places do not even know I am barefooted. No one is looking down at what I am wearing on my feet unless they are sizing me up out of attraction or disgust.
The last ten years of my life have been an eye-opening experience after being released from prison. I have found daily pleasure in being brave enough to be myself, that is, doing something that comes naturally. I have bought a dozen gym shorts. I love the way the shorts hug my buttocks, and I like the way I look in them. I have purchased an extra-large vibrating butt plug to give me the sensation of being “full of shit”. And I drive my scooter all year round, in the snow and in the rain. I enjoy the wind as it blows back against me.
These are small pleasures, but pleasures I didn't have ten years ago. And now I have discovered the experience of being barefooted, the biggest small pleasure of all.

I'm gonna write about my scooter and try not to cry.
Some might think my biggest accomplishment as a writer is to write a novel or maybe a short story that I am proud of but no.
My biggest accomplishment as a writer and the biggest accomplishment in my life was to purchase a scooter.
I drive my scooter everywhere, all year round, summer and winter. It's my primary vehicle.
My scooter helped to change my life when I was released from prison.
Before purchasing my scooter, I rode the bus, public transportation, everywhere. If I was lucky, I also had a bicycle, but the distance I could travel was limited.
All of the countless jobs I have had were on the bus line.
I was a thirty-year-old washing dishes, busing tables, and mopping floors.
The better jobs were located far from the inner city, so I had no way of making life better.
And to add to this situation, I had also flunked out of college and was discharged from the army after going AWOL, but that's another story.
My parents didn't help me get a car or cared to teach me how to drive even though we had two cars as I was growing up.
How I was raised is yet another story.
I was alone when it came to going from place to place. My memories are filled with walking and waiting for the bus along with the heavy breathing and sweating from riding my bicycle. My world was no bigger than a 5-mile circle from my home. I never went to a concert, a party, or any other social gathering in my teens or twenties, outside of school events.
It makes me tear up knowing that I had lived my younger years not knowing of anything beyond my neighborhood.
So when I was released from prison in my 40s, I was living in a halfway house. I had gotten a job as a busboy in a casino, and one day, I decided to walk the three miles to work instead of taking the bus. I was finally free, and I wanted to walk in the wide open space of the outdoors.
That's when I walked by a scooter store and saw a black Chinese scooter with a sales price of $1000 in the display window.
I stared at the scooter. I couldn't believe the price was so low. I remembered scooters costing as much as cars when I was younger. I remembered seeing scooters at some of the rich suburban high schools when I went there for sporting events.
$1000. Wow! I had the money.
While living in the halfway house, I didn't pay rent. I was given food and clothes, and all I had to do was save my money and find a place to live. But I had been living in the halfway house for over a year without finding an apartment. No one would take me because I was a sex offender. So week after week, my bank account got fatter as more and more ex-cons left the halfway house and more and more ex-cons came in.
I stared at the scooter for a good ten minutes. There was no way I was going to buy a scooter without a driver's license. Then there was insurance, tags, and registration. And there was no way I could buy a scooter without a permanent address.
“You could get a better look inside,” came a voice.
A man inside the store noticed me standing in front of the display and came outside to talk to me.
He looked me over.
“You don't need a driver's license to purchase a scooter,” said the employee. “People buy scooters when they have points against their driver's license and can't drive. The police know that, so even if you drive a scooter without a license or a suspended license, they're not gonna give you a ticket.”
I looked at the man and stared again at the scooter.
“That's a 50cc scooter,” the man continued. “You can buy it and drive it without registration. No tags. No insurance. No license. Just pay and go.”
And that's what I did.
I hid my scooter behind the halfway house, underneath a highway overpass where some ex-cons parked their cars. They didn't want the halfway house officials to know they were driving for various reasons.
I hid my scooter because despite what the scooter store employee said, I knew it was illegal to drive without a driver's license.
But it was at that point in my life my world began to expand.
People take for granted their ability to travel from one place to another. But I don't.
Once I got my scooter, I signed up for a creative writing class at a community college over ten miles away from the halfway house. And that's when I finished Bang! Tick Tock Gold, written about earlier.
I was soon invited to read my poem at spoken word events, so I darted across the city on my scooter, learning the names of streets in a town I had lived in all my life for the first time.
I got my driver's license by driving my scooter to a place where I rented a test-taker for a day.
I found an apartment complex on my scooter that allowed me to move in as a registered sex offender.
I got 80 miles from a $2.00 gallon of gas.
Tear. Tear.
Once I moved into my first apartment after being released from prison, I drove to the gas station, the laundromat, and the grocery store. I drove to Target, to Walmart, and to JC Penny. I took the drive-thru at Wendy's. I found a job off the bus line that paid more than a busboy. My scooter helped to raise my self-esteem because I felt more in control of me. I could choose what I wanted without relying on others and without having a bus schedule. My circle of influence grew from 5 miles to 50.
I had that first scooter for 10 years from 2009 to 2019 and replaced damn near everything but the metal frame.
But then the metal frame broke.
I cried elephant tears when I tossed it into the trash bin.
Today, I am on my third scooter, but I could probably build one from scratch.
I always ride barefooted, all year round, summer and winter.
I love the feel of the wind against my face and the rumble of the motor between my thighs.
And sometimes, but only sometimes in the dead of night, my self-esteem will let me ride totally naked.