I had a friend in high school whose dad owned a moped. It had an aqua blue finish with honey brown leather on the seats that begged you to climb up and take it for a spin. It didn’t see much use, which added to the luster of the beast. And it didn’t see much use because, well, it was a moped. It doesn’t matter how thrilling it is to zoom down side streets with the wind in your face – for whatever reason, it’s not a motorcycle; it’s just an open invitation for your friends to shit all over you. Which we did. Because mopeds are for pussies. According to Internet, “they’re fun to ride until your friends find out,” just like tilt-a-whirls and tandem bikes. Urban Dictionary attached the term to the guy or girl you hook up with and hope to god no one finds out about. And of course Urban Dictionary’s shithead cousin Yahoo answers tried their best to take the ball and run with it saying, “fat chicks are like scooters…but they make stranger sounds.” Oof.
I don’t want to hate mopeds, in fact I’d love to love them. But I never thought Continue reading