Cities are swarming with electric scooters. But this is not the ‘micro-mobility revolution’ we need.
By Margaret Renkl
Scooter riders near the Nashville intersection where Brad Gaulke was killed.
NASHVILLE — Old friends of ours like to tell the story of the time they looked out their front window and saw a grown man propelling himself down their street on a child’s push scooter. Peeking over his shoulder was a baby in a backpack, squealing with glee.
It was my baby.
When they rolled up to our duplex a little while later, both the pink-cheeked baby and his father were exultant. I was not exultant. I was very, very far from exultant.
In the unspoken division of parenting labor in our family, I was the cautious parent, the restrained parent, the consult-the-American-Academy-of-Pediatrics parent. My husband was the fun parent, the adventurous parent, the parent who sees a broken scooter, free for the taking, fixes it up and then takes it for a joy ride down a suburban commuter corridor with a baby strapped to his back.
That baby is currently 27 years old and backpacking around Europe on his summer break from teaching. I’m glad he grew up with a daring parent. I’m glad he also grew up with a vigilant parent who insisted on helmets and kneepads and safety goggles and sunscreen — a yen for adventure whispering in one ear; a sober respect for 7,000 pounds of barreling Yukon whispering in the other... nyt continues
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By Margaret Renkl
Scooter riders near the Nashville intersection where Brad Gaulke was killed.NASHVILLE — Old friends of ours like to tell the story of the time they looked out their front window and saw a grown man propelling himself down their street on a child’s push scooter. Peeking over his shoulder was a baby in a backpack, squealing with glee.
It was my baby.
When they rolled up to our duplex a little while later, both the pink-cheeked baby and his father were exultant. I was not exultant. I was very, very far from exultant.
In the unspoken division of parenting labor in our family, I was the cautious parent, the restrained parent, the consult-the-American-Academy-of-Pediatrics parent. My husband was the fun parent, the adventurous parent, the parent who sees a broken scooter, free for the taking, fixes it up and then takes it for a joy ride down a suburban commuter corridor with a baby strapped to his back.
That baby is currently 27 years old and backpacking around Europe on his summer break from teaching. I’m glad he grew up with a daring parent. I’m glad he also grew up with a vigilant parent who insisted on helmets and kneepads and safety goggles and sunscreen — a yen for adventure whispering in one ear; a sober respect for 7,000 pounds of barreling Yukon whispering in the other... nyt continues
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And then there's the peripatetic's lament: able-bodied young people habitually choosing NOT to exercise their legs is just sad, another disturbing intimation of Wall-e World in our future. Ban 'em, I say, especially from college campuses! @MargaretRenkl twitter.com/MargaretRenkl/…
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