Last summer I posted about the new moped I was so excited to buy. I figured I'd thwart the overzealous extortion by the rental car industry that was rampant in 2021 (and apparently is as well in 2022--a month and a half car rental from Logan Airport is $4,000 this year). But I digress...
It seemed a perfect and brilliant solution, like all things ill-considered and latched onto in the heat of the moment. What I couldn't have known, was that extortion was and is pervasive in every aspect of the transportation industry.
I'd originally found a rental car through Turo (the Air B&B of car rentals). A guy in Worcester, MA had a Fiat 500, as I have in San Francisco, with a very reasonable rate posted online. I snapped up the deal, congratulating myself that I'd be saving thousands of dollars for my hometown wheels. Then, two days before my flight to the Right Coast, he contacted me, saying the car had a bogus problem. My local Fiat mechanic said they'd never heard of what he'd described to me; the car always indicating that the gas tank was full, even when it was empty, and not allowing the driver to add fuel. He couldn't get the car fixed in time for my pickup, he said. (When I looked up his car days later on Turo.com, it was in perfect shape with the price marked up significantly.)
So I sucked it up and at the last moment, booked a rental car for two weeks at full price. That's when I hatched the plan to buy the scooter; to save money on car rentals and amortize my investment for years to come.
Other things I didn't know going into this:
- That both my ignition and kick start would fail shortly after I bought the thing.
- That the warranty only covered the dealer fixing any problem.
- That it was non-returnable, or so they said at first...
- That the Buddy 50 weighs 200 pounds and, once dysfunctional, would need me to muscle it around significantly with my 61-year-old, 5'3" body.
Reminding them of the Lemon Law changed the dealer's tune. Making it clear this was out of the vast kindness of their heart, they bought it back...for $1,000 less than I'd paid. Worn down from all the stress, I caved.
My 85-year-old aunt had even asked, when I'd visited her assisted living home en route to registering the green beast, "Aren't you a little old to be riding a moped?" Should've listened to her.
I used my bicycle for transportation during the two weeks of my scooter's death throes, while I began wheedling the dealer to take it back. This happened to be during 90 degree, 90% humidity weather. My first grocery shop, up the steep hill of my rural hometown, felt like a problem to solve, and I returned to my cottage, laden with provender, and feeling triumphant. The second just felt sad and exhausting.
But the fun didn't stop there...
I had returned the rental car after buying the scooter, to the Enterprise office in the city next to my hometown. There, I was treated to a genuine Fall River experience. (Once a major player in the Industrial Revolution, the city is struggling mightily with an opioid crisis, even while gentrifying its waterfront hopefully and beautifully.) While I waited in the air conditioned atrium for a taxi to take me to my cottage, in marched a local middle-aged woman and her (I'm guessing) son. As I scanned my email on my iPhone, I could hear her initially sweet talking the clerk for a better deal. I went back to my email, but was roused from it when the trainee called over his manager, who said to her something to the effect of, "We usually call the police if people refuse to return or pay for a car." She responded, "You should know that I was in jail for stabbing someone in the chest!"
I began peering outside eagerly for my taxi and considered stepping out into the scorching afternoon. But I was also afraid to make any move that might divert her attention to me, so I alternated surreptitious glances with pretending to be really interested in Facebook. Eventually the manager talked her off the ledge, and she phoned somebody for a quick loan and a lift. Before knives were drawn, or blood was shed, my taxi arrived.
As luck would have it, the Fall River experience continued...The taxi driver, slightly younger than me, but much worse for wear, drove his beater erratically for the 30 minute drive to my cottage. I had him stop far away from my destination, in case he had ideas. He demanded $45 for the trip. Fearing my life, I paid him and escaped with my skin, if not my dignity.
After returning the scooter, I rented another car, thanks to my sister's much appreciated transport to Dartmouth (a much kinder, gentler town and sans opioids), and booked a one way flight back to SFO a month earlier than I originally intended (getting reamed once again by American Air and their "pay for your seat", "pay for each piece of luggage" shenanigans).
There's usually one noteworthy challenge every summer I return to my hometown, but somehow, 2021 was the perfect storm of transportation trials. It took me nearly a year to process the trauma and write this story. Bravely I sail into another East Coast summer...wish me luck!
