"Well sir, I'll tell you the whole story. The wife and I were sitting at the table in the kitchen having our morning oatmeal. Suddenly Gertie looked at me and said, 'Walter, you're starting to lose your marbles. You put the milk in the cupboard and the apples in the freezer. I think you're going through male menopause.' 'Ha,' I said, 'not a chance. We still have sex. I like the one in the spring the best.' 'You're an old fool Walter,' she said."
"Male menopause, Walter asked himself? "Not possible - nope. So what if I've started playing rec hockey with the 40-year-olds? They can skate circles around me but if I ever get one of those young buggers in a corner, look out! I'll give him a Gordie Howe combo. So what if I colour what little hair I've got left? A man should look his best. The ladies in the Seniors' Bowling League think I'm hot. Well OK then, I admit that I have dreamed of buying the biggest Harley Davidson Hogg you can get, and cruising the back roads of Rabbit Lake with some young 55-year-old hanging on. But I can't because my wife would kill me. So, I really need to tone down this Harley Hogg idea. "
Walter stared out the kitchen window deep in thought. Just then his neighbour, Cranston Newby, rode by on his electric scooter.
"That's it!" exclaimed Walter. A scooter. I'll buy the best one they have. Cranston's a bit daft. He got lost in the Walmart parking lot yesterday. If he can drive a scooter, anyone can."
Walter phoned his grandson, Freebie, to come over and look up scooters on the computer.
"There's a couple of bucks in it for you son. Can you come right away? Damn! Kids are expensive nowadays."
It didn't take long. Freebie found a deluxe model scooter with four 1,200 watt batteries - a top speed of 20 mph, convertible plastic top and side enclosure, air conditioning, electric heater, factory GPS and a Bose professional sound system.
"Wow," exclaimed Walter. "That's the one I want! Time to stretch that pension money and load up the MasterCard. Sure, this means no holidays at Cochin this summer and leaving the tent trailer in storage. But I've got my dream machine. Surely the wife will understand."
The first thing Walter had to do after taking possession of his new deluxe model scooter, was get a scooter licence from SGIO. The lady processing his application seemed a little severe.
"What is your last name sir?" she asked crisply.
"Dwink."
"Did you say your last name is Dwink?"
"Yeah, Walter Dwink - like in, 'Can you get me a dwink of water?' Ha, ha, ha."
The lady was not amused and gave Walter a cold stare that conveyed both annoyance and impatience.
"No sense of humour here," thought Walter - "sheesh!"
Walter spent the next two weeks breaking in his scooter and getting to know everyone in the North Battleford Scooter Fraternity. Top speed was 20 MPH, but Walter soon discovered that you could go twice that fast down an average hill, and three times faster down King Hill. It was fun to see gophers run for cover. Walter's scooter gave him a new-found sense of power. Vehicles stopped for him. Traffic lights meant nothing. What could they do, run over a senior in a scooter? That wouldn't look too good now would it? As for pedestrians jay-walking on 101st Street, you do what you have to do.
Walter yelled, "Get the hell out of the way you dweebs, or they'll be calling you pancake.' Who the hell do these people think they are anyway, tying up the roadways?"
After two weeks, Walter got a little bored spinning around town, scaring pedestrians, and speeding down hills. He wanted more. Suddenly it hit him. He would customize his scooter - transform it into one mean machine. Yesiree Bob.
Walter got his mechanic friend, Benny Friddle, to help him. First, they stripped down the scooter and extended the chassis. Next they dropped in a 2,000cc, twin cylinder hemi, fuel injected, turbo charged Briggs and Stratton gas engine with electric start, and a converted, four-speed, high torsion Trojan transmission. Then, they added a Racer's four-speed stick shift, tachometer, Monroe shocks, roll bars and dual chromed tail pipes. Finally they painted it a bright metallic orange with red and black flames. Walter was overcome with emotion. What a machine - the stallion of scooters. He named it Hogg after an earlier fantasy.
A few days later, Walter pulled the Hogg into the co-op parking lot and joined his senior buddies for a coffee, fresh brewed and cheapest in town. The waitresses were friendly, and darn good looking too.
"Hey Walter, that's some scooter you got there. What can it do?" asked Fred Bingle, a retired barber.
"Yeah, cost me an arm and a dog. Don't know what it can do. I haven't cranked her up to top speed yet," said Walter. "But she can really move, I can tell you that."
"You should enter it into a race competition somewhere," laughed Cecil Dinnlac, a retired car salesmen with Valley Ford.
"Yeah right Cec. Good one." Then it hit him. "Yeah right Cecil. You're right! The Hogg is built for racing, and built to win. Guys, what do you say we organize a scooter rally and races day? The city should let us use the Ag Society grounds and track. How can they refuse? We're seniors. We pay taxes. We built this city. I can see it now. Billboards by Kramers, Phoenix Sports and the four-way stop in Battleford - First Annual Seniors' Scooter Rally And Races Day. It'll be more fun than squirrels in a mailbox."
"No doubt the editor with the News-Optimist will kick in some free advertising," said Walter. "CBC Televison and CTV will be here of course. Old folks from far and wide will not miss this event. A trailer and RV park is a must. We'll call it Scooter Hooter RV Heaven. Sure, that's it. We'll need tents set up for vendors to sell hearing aids, Viagra, trusses, moisturizers, walkers, prune juicers - everything you can think of for the golden years. The scooter companies will be here, of course, showing off the latest in scooter technology and scooter apparel. We'll call it Scooter Alley. Of course, that's it. A hospitality tent with a bar serving soda, and light beer for the partiers, and old time music is a must. We'll need a press box. And we'll need a professional announcer. How about Wally Macht? Yes, of course! He used to work for CJNB. He must be 80 years old by now, so he's a perfect fit. And, last but not least, we must have a big dance - The Scooter Ball - to finish off the big day. A chance to kick up our heels.
Well maybe not, but we can still cut a mean shuffle. We'll have the dance outdoors in the CuPlex parking lot. We can use the Dekker Centre washrooms. The band? Wally Weiner and the Heart Throbs, of course."
"Hey Walter, did ya know Wally Weiner can't see anymore?"
"That's why he plays by ear Frank, you dumbo."
"Now for the races," beamed Walter. "Great prizes and medals for the winners in the Fastest Off The Blocks Under Six Seconds category, Whippersnapper category for young senior competitors, Weezer Geezer category, Powder Puff pink scooter category for the ladies, Electric Powered Stock category, and the big draw - the Screamin' Scooter Open, for which the winner will be awarded the coveted I. H. mayor's trophy. Donald Seer is the flagman and Ronald Kush is head timer. So it'll be Ronald and Donald (which is pretty close to Ronald Mcdonald when you think of it)."
Revving up the Hogg on the start line, Walter knew this baby could win. The Hogg would leave that pretender, Melvin Muddyfoot, the northerner from Glaslyn, choking in his dust! The tension was so thick you could cut it with a darning needle. Testosterone levels went crazy. Flags down! Engines screaming, tires spinning, throwing mud a hundred feet and more!
Wally Macht calling the action - " Walter Dwink is in the lead. His modified scooter, the Hogg, is burning up the track. Dwink has the inside rail. And it looks like he'll be first over the finish line. But wait, here comes Muddyfoot on Dwink's blind side. It's not over yet folks."
Just then, Melvin Muddyfoot's powered up scooter swiped the Hogg on the driver's side sending it into a 360 spin and over the rail; the Hogg smashed through a snow fence, rolled three times and came to a dead stop in a pile of last year's horse manure.
Walter climbed out through the roll bars, surveyed the situation and in total frustration shouted, "shit!" not realizing what he was standing in.
Then he heard the roar of the crowd, the furious clapping, foot stomping and whistles, and the chanting - "Walter, Walter, Walter."
"I'm a bloody hero," exclaimed Walter looking up to the sky. "I'm their champion. No, I didn't win the race, but I put on one hell of a show."
The Scooter rally and races day was an absolutely amazing, unqualified success. Walter and the committee determined that next year they were going provincial, with big money prizes.
"We'll get Brad Wall to cut the ribbon," said Walter. "In 2014, we'll go national. But who should we get to cut the ribbon?"
"Is that Mulroney feller still in that there parliament?" inquired Inky Fast, a former turkey farmer.
"Don't think so Ink, but we can try for Judy LaMarsh. And, if we have to, we'll lower our sights and put the squeeze on Gerry Ritz."
Later at the Scooter ball, Walter and Gertie were dancing to the Blue skirt waltz.
Gertie pulled Walter close and whispered in his ear, "You're an old fool Walter." But this time she said it with a twinkle in her eye.
Walter closed his eyes and whispered silently to himself, "Thank you Hogg. I love you."
- Dr. Richard Hiebert is a former high school principal. He writes primarily in education and, history, but also writes short stories and novellas for high school students, humour, romantic essays, and children's literature.
