Here, my radiant scooter boy is about ready to take off down driveway and onto the street on a day well before his scooter started to get locked up. Some of his happiest free moments of his summer vacation were spent on that scooter. Summer is great because our street isn't quite as busy or obstructed. Last week, however, our empty street turned into a full one when the fall semester began at Central Michigan University.
What this means is that college students start lining up their cars alongside our yard for a short walk (five or ten minutes) to campus. Parking alongside our road means the students don't have to pay a parking fee to park in a university-owned lot and this results in a much narrower street--especially if cars are parked on both sides of the road.
So for our son's own safety, my husband and I have decided to lock the scooter up in the trunk of our little Chevy Cavalier during the week when the road is too full. It might sound a little mean, but if we didn't do that our guy who has mild autism would sneak off with it despite our warnings. He'll wear is helmet diligently, look for cars and scooter in the range dictated by mom, but cannot appreciate the importance of abstaining from his favorite activity for saftety reasons.
My boys and I travelled most of this holiday weekend (Labor Day), but returned on Sunday. Today my scooter boy was supposed to get his scooter back because the college students had the day off from classes and our road looked clear.
Unfortunately, it appears that at some point my ten year old tried to free his scooter by using his own key--a wooden stick. Some of it, I discovered, broke of into the lock. My key only went a quarter of the way in. I peeked in the keyhole, saw a small chunk of wood and instantly knew what happened. The guilty party tried to deny putting a stick into the keyhole, but mom knows her boy all too well.
An ice pick, knife and a two-pronged corn on the cob holder failed to dislodge the wood chip. Scooter boy didn't get to ride his scooter after all today. I felt sort of bad for him, but am hoping a lesson of sorts has been learned. A locksmith will be called soon and hopefully our bound-to-be joyful ten year old will get his Razor scooter back next weekend.