Every year or so, I try to make it back to the small town I grew up in, Moville, for their annual citywide rummage sale. So, being a determined sort of fellow for anything waxing towards the nostalgic, I loaded up the conversion van with family in tow, eastward bound to Moville. Well, ok, the wife loaded up the family, but I drove, which is half the battle.
When we arrived in Moville, as usual, I had trips through memory lane running rampant in my head. Remembering days that now seem long gone. Some buildings new, some buildings gone, some dilapidated beyond repair. But my objective was to just rummage and find bargains, not to be one of those people who harkens back to their glory days (of which I had few).
As I was sifting through a pile of books for my boys I noticed a girl come through the alley on a moped. Immediately this caught my attention. I then recalled glimpsing one driving down a side road as well a few blocks back. Now, anytime I see a moped driving through Moville, I can’t help but just kind of stare and remember. But if you don’t know, or perhaps need a refresher course, I’ll elaborate why, mostly to make sure you don’t believe I just gawk at girls on mopeds.
When I grew up in Moville, a friend of my dad was selling his son’s moped. My dad saw this as a good opportunity to give me a sort of vehicle to travel around with. It gave me all sorts of mobility, which can be valuable at the age of 13 or 14. After my first ride on it, I was hooked. When I got it, I couldn’t legally drive it on the road. So what did a young man with a taste of horsepower do? I drove it around my yard in circles and occasionally ventured out onto the gravel road.
The moped was a nice red moped, but I’m not very good with details. It kept having different problems starting and sometimes sputtering out. Instead of trying to constantly figure out what was wrong, my parents decided just to get me a new one, since I would be able to legally drive it and get back and forth to school now. There was still a fondness for that first moped, but honestly, I think it was dying of the boredom of my house. We lived on an acreage, but come on, there’s only so much you can do on that chunk of land.
One fine weekend, we decided to drive to Sheldon as they had a motorcycle dealership that sold mopeds. Off we went and soon I had found the shiniest red moped you ever laid eyes on. It also had a storage compartment mounted on the back of it. Think of it like having one of those lame baskets on the back of your bicycle, or more appropriately, a fanny pack for your moped. Cool right? Nope, but I thought, hey this is useful! What’s more important than useful? For the next few years, this compartment would see little actual use as it was easy to put my school bag on the moped floorboard.
Another peculiarity about mopeds. You have to have a flag on the back of them. Now, there’s several trains of thought here, so bear with me. There was the camp that said you need it long so people can see you. Others chopped those damn things down so far you thought they were coming out of their posterior. I was in the first camp, because if there’s one thing my mother instilled in me, it is to be careful. So I had that flag so damned long that when you went too fast it leaned so far back that it was almost parallel to the ground, thus defeating the entire purpose of that annoying thing to begin with. Eventually I decided to trim it a bit (not too much) so that it wouldn’t do that and mostly so I wouldn’t be ridiculed the whole time. Then again, the storage compartment still didn’t help.
Now there were three of us (mainly) who utilized the increased mobility of the moped on almost a gang like basis. Me, Kelly Heeren, and David Flewelling. I can’t tell you how many adventures we went on with those mopeds. But what I can tell you, is that at the time, we were not exactly the cool people. Kelly (God rest his soul) at least had the stylish Vanilla Ice haircut going for him. And I gave many a people rides to and fro. I’ve almost never been a small guy, so this must have been quite the sight. So that moped got more use out of it than some people do out of their cars.
The one thing that truly catapulted the moped to infamy was an incident that involved two of my best friends. Nate Higgins and Mike Stark were feuding and it probably escalated due to something about Dungeons and Dragons, bologna loving reindeer, and other such nonsense. However, an epic moment truly occurred the second Nate uttered “3:30 after school by Wilson’s moped!” Suddenly the moped was not just an object, but a location! Not just a location, but a real freaking destination. And boy was this whole thing advertised and promoted like nothing else. The fight itself is not so important, but the moped and that saying soon evolved into legend. To the importance of Moville, this is akin to the importance of Zeus to Greek mythology. Pretty impressive stuff really.
So what the heck am I rambling on about? Well, I think it should be obvious by now, and if it isn’t, my road map probably got us lost. Not the first time that’s happened. But the more I went around Moville today, the more I saw of one thing. Mopeds. Now all girls on mopeds, but mopeds nonetheless. So this leads to one conclusion. The reason they ride those mopeds is because of me and the ground I forged. Much like Larry “the Cable Guy” plowed the field of tolerance towards rednecks and hillbillies, so too, I have created a lasting legacy. These teens may not realize that the reason they’re experiencing such an amazing freedom is because I planted that seed. They don’t know me; the stories of me are probably slight mummers in the stories their parents tell each other at night. But I’m proud of this legacy and the traditions created.
I’m not just here to extol my virtues. In fact, most of the moped riders I saw were girls. So, I think that proves the fact that I am a role model for teenage girls everywhere. No need to shower me with gifts and adorn me with titles though. Part of me thinks, wouldn’t the ultimate twist of irony be if I opened up a store for mopeds in Moville? And how many people would pee their pants laughing if I did? Well, damned good thing for you all that I don’t have any money.
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