"Dude, Dude, Dude."
I found a parking spot beside two guys, both on scooters. We sat for awhile and I finally said, 'Nice ride.' The guy who looked the youngest glanced over and says, 'This baby tops out at 6 ... that's M. P. H.'
I said, '6!'
The other guy said, 'He got his tricked out.'
Then we chatted.
People came in and looked over. Their minds forming all sorts of impressions, most of them probably completely wrong. All we were were three 'dudes' ... well, two dudes and a 'dud'. My years of being a dude ended when I dropped a vowel that time I had that nasty spill last year. 'I've fallen and I can't get up without the help of 6 men and a winch with a dump truck'.
Most of the time we laughed, joking about the machines. They thought that the name 'Henry' for mine sucked. I thought the fact that neither had named their sucked. They said, 'Naming your scooter is gay'. I said, 'Who first?' Then they went into gales of laughter.
Joe came along and I called him over, they both waved.
'That's my bitch,' I said.
It took several seconds for the laughter to die down.
We cripples, such a sad lot.