Sadly, one of the things we decided we would not bring to North Dakota from Maryland, was Joe's trusty scooter. It would've taken up too much room on the moving truck and they don't run too well in tundra-like conditions.
It was sad to sell it. I don't know who liked this scooter more, Joe or I. He mentioned to me once that it was like riding on a magic carpet. I rode it a few times, I agreed. I really loved that scooter, however, because it kept me from having to load all of the kids in the van twice a day to take Joe to and from the metro station. He simply walked out the front door, put on his helmet, started the scooter and drove it to the metro station where he parked it for the day and rode it home when he got off the metro in the evening. Cheap, convenient, easy. Why can't more of life be that way?
Reality was quick to sink in as the kids and I shuttled Joe to and from the metro for his remaining six days of work. When I got too down about not owning our scooter anymore or having to shuttle Joe, I quickly reminded myself of the wad of cash the man paid us for it and the beauty of not having to figure out how to haul that thing across the country. Then the parting didn't seem quite so sorrowful.