The word ‘adult’ afore a noun pricks the attention don’t it? Adult cinema, adult swing, adult party, adult toys. Sends a tingle up the spine and hones ones senses. Acutely. I can’t read it without looking over my shoulder to check where wifey is. I become furtive. Anticipatory. I become a man. A baseless hormone skulking in a dirty minded corner.
So, imagine receiving an e-mail right up your public inbox asking you to review two, not one, but two adult scooters. Two? You filthy *********. I’m a family man. I have children. I am 40 years old. For God’s sake.
Send me two adult scooters IMMEDIATELY so I can be properly disgusted in the privacy of my own home. And then leave me alone.
Adult scooting in my mind
Imagine if you will ( I did). The wife and I have enlisted the services of a baby sitter. We have left a list of instructions, a contact phone number and have exited the house ‘done up to the nines’. We have gotten in our people carrier and driven off into the night for our faux respectable evening. The air is tense with sexual frizzon. (I have never before used the word frizzon).
30 minutes into our journey, we pull into a secluded lay-by next to a woodland area and climb into the back-seat. We change out of our dinner attire into filthy, filthy sex outfits. I’m dressed head-to-toe in cling film with nothing but a nose hole; tonight Matthew my wife will be Freddie Mercury. And crotchless. I straighten her moustache, she paddles my bottom with tyre iron and we’re good to go.
We exit the vehicle, pull the adult scooters out of the boot and with an expert flick of the wrist, the tightly compacted bundle of metal and plastic is unleashed. It clicks firmly into place. Scooter erection. We climb aboard our 21st Century adult toys: me on the micro black and wifey riding the micro sprite. We head out into the night to meet other like minded individuals.
We spend three liberating hours speeding through the night with our exposures blowing in the breeze. At one point Wifey and I are as one, as we smash it right up on the micro black (bigger deck). A visual and sexual tour de force never before seen in the world of adult scooting. We are a thing of infamy. Filthy, filthy infamy. Heralded and held aloft by the other scantily clad dirty ****** adult scooterers.
Adult scooting in real life
By the time the boxes had arrived in the post, my wife and I had already decided that we would not be doing anything remotely inappropriate on our adult scooters.
(By the time the boxes had arrived in the post, MY WIFE had already decided that we would not be doing anything remotely inappropriate on OR OFF our adult scooters).
I was actually quite excited as I unwrapped mine. Look at this bad boy!
It’s a sturdy mother sticker with big ass wheels and a chunkier deck. These factors combined meaning it’s easier to scoot, goes for longer between ‘foot swipes’ (?) and there’s more space for your feet. WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT SCOOTER DUDES?
It’s well made to boot. The mechanisms to fold it up and then unleash it again, are solid. It feels like the real deal. It begs you to ride it. It speaks to your inner child. SO much so, I instructed the boy to go grab his mini micro out of the shed. Daddy and son were going scooting!
Him: No thanks Daddy I’m watching Oconauts.
Me: *Switches TV off*
Him; *sighs and puts his shoes on*
Adult scooting with children (!)
I had wondered up to this point how I would feel scooting around my local neighbourhood for all the neighbours to see. I considered, being a grumpy ass with a blackened old heart, that I would feel slightly pillocky. I was wrong.
I had a brilliant time. An absolutely brilliant time. Apart from the scooter being a great ride, it was magnificent just scooting around the streets, chatting absent-mindedly with my boy. We went out for 10 minutes and came back an hour later, already planning the next time we would go and how we would take snacks and drinks. Bit of bonding in motion. Does ya.
Adult scooting solo
I have actually been to the shops on my micro black. I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK. It’s so quick and easy. The ratio between gliding effortlessly like a 21st century knight and swiping your foot on the pavement like a 21st Century nobhead, is pleasingly 70/30 in favour of effortless. You spend longer than you would ever think possible gliding on flat ground. Just effortlessly rolling. Two footed aboard the deck. Admiring the scenery. Turning heads. Talk of the town.
N.B It has to be noted however that to scoot solo you must not give a donkey’s nob about what people think. People are cruel people. Word up. The sight of a portly adult sweating profusely atop an adult scooter is surely enough to invite open and loud mouthed mockery. Much the same as leggings on the fat bottomed. Or pony-tails on the bald.
I myself am lithe and youthful looking. Easily able to pull off a scooter. Apart from my glass knees, Shoe box head, stick thin legs and furiously anti-social psychological make-up, I am scooter gold. Either way, cop a deaf ‘un peeps and scoot with pride.
N.B Please note however, I consider it to be a similar vein to wearing high heels and a dress when you are a gentleman. Fine when you are doing it well, but if you stumble or God forbid fall, you absolutely have to kill yourself.
Adult scooting with the wife and kids
In truthfulness you look, I suspect, less of nobhead in the eyes of Joe, if you are using your adult scooter in the park with your children. Children who are are also on scooters I hasten to add. Not you on a scooter and them running behind. And not them pulling you on a scooter like tiny little Shetland ponies wearing Gap. And crying. If your wife can also be on an adult scooter, all the better. Right there buster you have yourself a scooting family. Welcome to the future.
Whizzing around the park with my wife and two children behind me (way behind me because they are slower, have smaller wheels and shorter legs) was again really good fun. My children lagged behind on their mini-micro’s like this one:
My wife lagged behind, allegedly because she didn’t want to abandon the children (HAHAHAHAHAHA) on this micro sprite:
My wife’s micro sprite is more the traditional, sporty type of scooter for ideally ages 5-12 years. That said, my 40 year-old fit-bit whizzed around the park quite comfortably. I had a little go on the Sprite but it was too small for me. The smaller wheels made it a bit bumpy. And I had to foot swipe more than I had become accustomed. I, it would seem, am more suited to the smack-daddy bad-ass bigger deck and fat boy wheels. I may be a scooter pimp. Fo shizzle.
That said the micro-sprite is well made and easy to ride. Indeed, for what was a particularly surreal 10 minutes of my life, I scooted around the park with my 74 year old mother close behind. Surprisingly close behind for a geriatric. At one point it looked as though she may overtake me, so I had to cut her up and send her scooting into the bushes.
Adult Scooting concluded
Good fun. Well made. Do it. www.microscooters.co.uk
N.B. I was provided with the scooters to review. The wife, children and show off weirdly fit pensioner mother are all mine.