Scene: I've had class, finished typing and printing my Sherlock Holmes and House notes, and bought the book to read for next week. I approach my scooter.
Random Girl Ready To Ride Away On Her Scooter, Which Is The Same As Mine, Except For Its Colour*: Hey.
Me: Hey.
[We exchange the super-secret scooter-riders' handshake.]
Random Girl: Have you ever had any trouble with yours?
Me: Well, I rode it to Noarlunga in 40 degree heat last summer.
Her: And it cut out?
Me: Yeah. I wouldn't recommend it. She's been good apart from that.
Her: Mine's been smoking. A lot. [Demonstrates.]
Me: Wow. Well, MINE'S never done ANYTHING like THAT. [She said, EVER SO SMUGLY.]
She: Rides away on her cute little scooter (in a cloud of smoke, but hey, she's riding).
Me: Tries to start my scooter. Fails. Repeatedly.
NOW what the hell am I supposed to do? The automatic non-starter button is in its startable position. She was not in the snow, hail, or even rain. She was in the sun for crying out loud, and she always starts better when it's warmer. She has petrol AND oil.
Actually, maybe it was the shock of her being warm, dry, and not being beyond empty that did it to her. Fuck.
*And the fact that it works. Oops! Spoiler!
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