Recovering Hope

When I was deciding which university to attend for my doctoral program, I was very specific about the location. I did not want an urban campus. I did not want to have to live too far away from campus. I wanted to ensure that I could use a fun and cute motor scooter as my transportation to/from campus on warmer days. Before I selected my campus, I'd selected my preferred transportation.

The school I selected was definitely the right fit in many ways. It, also, was the perfect school to ride around on a motor scooter. Within a month of moving to the area about 6 miles from campus, I went in search of my future scooter. I was thinking Vespa. They are just so darn cute!!

Instead, next to the Vespas in the showroom were two smaller, less expensive, scooters bearing the name Schwinn. One was tan and white, the other pink and white. The pink one was called a "hope 50." I fell in love. Not only was she the cutest scooter in the shop, but a percentage of her sale would be donated to breast cancer research. She was also a bit closer to the ground - and at 5' tall, I liked the fact that my toes on both of my feet could touch the ground at the same time. We were meant to be together. 

After spending a couple days looking up reviews to ensure I wasn't investing in a lemon, I proudly purchased my scooter. I rode around town with my 50cc bike, knowing I was allowed to park at bike racks, and getting over 100 miles to the gallon. Over winter, I would store her. I treated her well, and she treated me well - always making it to the gas pump just before officially running out.

It was the day I brought the scooter home, that I realized I would name her Hope. I don't usually name my vehicles, or give them a personality, but there was something special about this scooter. I was embarking on a new life and that is when I not only named my scooter Hope, but the word hope became my mantra.

Two years ago, in Vietnam, I purchased the perfect pink helmet with white stars on the sides. Scooters are the primary transportation to the families in Vietnam, and they sold really cool accessories. I would not leave the country without a helmet - which cost me the equivalent of about $8 U.S.

While I was in Texas, Joy stored Hope for me in her garage. I knew I'd be coming home to my cute bike and once off home confinement, I'd be able to don my helmet and take her for a nice ride. Just two days ago, I told someone that the first thing I would do Wednesday, is take Hope for a spin. Sporty picked her up from Joy a couple weeks ago, and she is parked on the sidewalk just outside our door.

So, you can imagine my reaction at 12:00pm today, when Sporty announced, "Hope is gone!" I thought she was playing with me. I went to the door, and she really was gone. She'd been stolen. She was locked to the side, so she was either lifted by very strong people or they jacked the ignition and broke the handlebar lock. Didn't matter though. Someone had my bike.

Immediately, I called the police and my insurance company. I had made sure I had comprehensive coverage for Hope, so she was covered in case of loss. The cop was very nice who came to take the report. I said that since I was having "police interaction," I needed to inform him that I was on home confinement. He didn't even blink and said, "no worries."

The officer told me that scooters are constantly stolen and they usually turn up - minus some parts. A bike like mine, though, he was sure would turn up, because it was one of a kind in this area. Plus, if they were wearing the pink Vietnamese helmet, that would be a definite sign. After dealing with the officer and my insurance company, I just sat and felt defeated. 

It was an hour later when I got the call that Hope had been recovered. Actually, she was recovered prior to my police report. Here's the details:

Hope Update: a male was seen by police riding a pink and white motor scooter at 3am. He dropped the bike and ran. The police thought it odd to see a tall male riding a short pink scooter. The scooter, proudly named "Hope" was brought to an impound lot. Hope's ignition and front cover are busted. Her Vietnamese helmet was still intact in the seat. She could not be started. A small scooter shop picked her up and she will be in the scooter hospital, awaiting State Farm examiners to appraise her condition. The owner looks forward to once again riding the streets of her town with Hope in the near future.

I guess there's irony here, I mean here I am a felon and I'm feeling the victim of a crime- a petty theft in reality. Life is not all black and white- there's so much grey in the middle. The guy riding my bike was not caught - he'd dropped my scooter to the road and ran from the scene. I won't know why he stole it. Is he part of a group that sells parts? Was he doing a prank? Did he need to money he'd earn to feed his kids? Was he just a kid? Did he have help? Where was he taking her? 

I'll never have all the answers. I'm just glad to know that hope has been recovered. I'm not sure if the insurance company will deem her too expensive to fix, and instead total her. I know electrically she can be fixed, but the damage to her body is extensive - especially the front hood, by the gas cap, and the side of the bike that went down in the road.

I guess it doesn't matter. I don't need this specific scooter to give me the hope I have. She brought the word into my life, and now it's my duty to keep restoring hope. Even feeling the violation of my favorite object being stolen and perhaps gone from my life forever, could not take away my hope. If I've learned anything over the last six years, it's that people matter so much more than objects. They can be replaced.