I bought an e-scooter. Never in the entirety of my life did I think that I would buy one of these modern abominations, but here we are: a middle-aged man on a self-propelling scooter. I would be at peak Wall-E here if I decided to buy and install the optional padded seat from Segway. Yes, they even have a seat for this beauty, and I genuinely considered buying it.
So what would possibly possess my sick, cynical, bearded self to buy one of these sins against self-locomotion?
It was on sale!
That's right, a sale! Nothing gets that gelatinous blood of mine pumping like a good sale.
The Setup
So there I was, making my way into Sam's Club, miraculously kid-free and in a chipper mood. Nothing relaxes you quite like going into a store by yourself. People who don't have kids won't have any idea what I'm talking about, but to every parent out there—I see you.
I was making my way through the entrance when I was greeted by an employee and several tables filled with miscellaneous goods. And then I saw it, sitting right up front: the Segway E3 Pro ES. An entry into the premium scooter market boasting a top speed of 20 mph, a maximum range of 34 miles, and weighing a mere 40 lbs (which is roughly the same weight as my youngest child, whom I often have to carry great distances).
It was marvelous. Beautiful, even. The sleek lines stood out boldly, and the color palette was set in my favorite hues of black, red, and grey. I knew right then that I had to have it.
Not because of the aforementioned aesthetic pleasure it invoked, but because IT WAS ON SALE for 350 dollars. What an incredible deal. I knew it was astonishing the moment I spotted the price tag. I have to be fully transparent and say that I had looked at electric scooters before this serendipitous moment, so I knew exactly how good of a deal this was.
The main reason I've been considering one was purely for camping. It's not always convenient to walk to different portions of a campground, and it's not always ideal to unhitch and drive, either. Think about tasks like taking the trash out in the middle of the night while your kids are sleeping. It's just a pain in the ass. With an electric scooter, I would be able to move myself and something small from one point to another without sweating my ass off, which frequently happens at this stage in life.
Ah, who am I kidding? I've always been a sweater.
Getting back to the task at hand, I knew what I had there, and I wouldn't be leaving without it. I just couldn't give the impression that I was too excited, so I told the nice lady sitting there, "I'll consider it," and "Maybe I'll be back." It's important not to seem too eager.
But of course I'd be back! Who could pass up such an offer? I had to hurry so as not to return to an empty table.
I went about my regular shopping, stopping once I was well away from that impromptu kiosk to check my phone and make sure that this was indeed a remarkable deal. Heavens to Betsy, the lowest price I could find online was $550, and that specific listing was a sale price! I had to have it.
Well, as long as El Jefe gave me permission, that is. I conducted a preliminary text recon with the boss, just floating the idea. I received almost instantaneous permission from my wife, who, like me, loves a good deal (and as an occupational therapist, probably supports any gadget that keeps me from throwing out my back at the campsite).
As I was finishing my shopping, I casually made my way back and slyly started to load the scooter into my cart, barely able to contain my anticipation. I politely asked the woman sitting there how she was doing, and she replied, "Not too good."
Serendipity
What? Not too good? She blatantly ignored the social constructs of idle chat by being honest? I had to know more, so I asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"
She replied, "Yes, I do."
Huh. Honesty and a willingness to expand? Color me intrigued. As she began to paint the picture of her current station in life, I realized a few things. First, it was genuinely nice to have a candid conversation with a stranger. Second, sometimes life hits you hard, and you just need to talk about it regardless of the audience. In this case, I was the audience, and she had my rapt attention.
I will just touch on the key points of this conversation, as I don't want to unintentionally dox anyone, but through our discourse, I discovered that she was indeed in a tough spot. She had recently moved here from an adjoining state and was having a difficult time settling in. Not only that, she was dealing with an assortment of physical ailments that were making life harder than it needed to be.
And then it happened. That infamous Spiderman-pointing-at-Spiderman meme moment.
After informing me of her broken vertebrae, she continued on to that aha moment. "I have MS."
"WHAT? I have MS too!"
I think it took a moment for it to register because she briefly looked at me like I was speaking a different language. I interpreted that look as a rapid succession of thoughts all ending at the same place: This normal-looking man has MS?
Yes! We're alike! It's like two unicorns meeting in the wild, except not as rare. We finished our conversation relating all of our ailments that were alike and different. You could definitely say that we became fast friends at that point... even though neither one of us knew the name of the other.
And that was that. She kindly called a supervisor to escort me to the front with my brand new deal of a scooter. I paid and went on my merry way to try out my new purchase.
Who Cares?
Well, I care. I can legitimately say that was the first time randomly meeting someone in a similar situation as myself. Sure, I know others who have MS, but I was always introduced through a friend or family member. I have never met a fellow MSer out in the wild.
It left me feeling good. Living with something like MS can feel incredibly isolating, even when you have a great support system. To just stumble into a 10-minute conversation with a stranger who implicitly understands that weight? It's a rare gift. I like to think that I made her day better, but she definitely made mine. This was all because a stranger felt the need to be honest and vulnerable.
Apart from the beautiful exchange that we shared, I also got a sweet scooter at a wonderful price. Who wouldn't be happy with that? In full transparency, I've been riding that thing around my neighborhood like a crackhead at all hours of the night and day. It has brought me such childlike joy zipping around that I can't even fully articulate the feeling.
If you ever find yourself in a warehouse club that has doorbusters in July, get that sale item that you've been eyeing for a while. It just might lead to something unexpectedly wonderful—like a candid conversation with a complete stranger, and a scooter that invokes childlike joy in a grown-ass man.
Dad out... to go scootering.