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fourteenaway · 3 years

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Dancing in the Dark | The Story of Cary / Part VI

tw: mental illness

Whenever Cary’s dad didn’t pick Cary and his mother up from the school during the weekends, Cary would fetch his bike and would travel the winding narrow road without any houses until he came to the huge deserted mansion that invariably drew his eyes, making him wonder who had lived there and why they had deserted it? When he saw that house he automatically slowed, knowing soon he'd be home.

An acre from that house was his home, sitting isolated and lonely on a road that had more twists and turns than a puzzle maze that leads the mouse to the cheese. They lived in Fairfax, about twenty miles north of San Francisco. And while Cary spent most of his time at his boarding school for performing arts,the summer and most weekends he spent at home with his mom, dad, and kid brother, Harry. He was one of the few people that lived near the boarding school and therefore got to spend time at home.

There was a redwood forest on the other side of the mountains, surrounding his house,and the ocean too. Theirs was a cold place, sometimes dreary. The fog would roll in great billowing waves and often shrouded the landscape all day, turning everything cold and eerie. The fog was spooky, but it was also romantic and mysterious.

As much as Cary loved his home, he had vague, disturbing memories of a southern garden full of giant magnolia trees dripping with Spanish moss. He remembered his dad tall and always smiling leaning down to ruffle his hair and hold him in his arms.But most he remembered the nice warm and safe feeling he always gave to Cary. He guessed one of the saddest things about growing bigger, and older, was that no one was large enough, or strong enough, to pick you up and hold you close and make you feel that safe again.

Daniel was his mother's third husband. His own father died before he was born; his name was Leeland Laurent, and everyone in the ballet world knew about him. Hardly anyone outside of South Carolina, knew about William Walters, who had been his mother's second husband, and his brother’s father. In that same southern state, lived his paternal grandmother, Madame Milena.

She was the one who wrote him a letter each week, and once a summer they visited her. It seemed she wanted almost as much as he did, for Cary to become the most famous dancer the world had ever known. And thus he would prove to her, and to everyone, that his father had not lived and died in vain.

By no means was his grandmother an ordinary little old lady going on seventy-two. Once she'd been very famous, and not for one second did she let anyone forget this. It was a rule that Cary was never to call her Grandmother when others could overhear and possibly guess her age. She'd whispered to him once that it would be all right if he called her Mother, but that didn't seem right when he already had a mother whom he loved very much. So he called her Madame Milena, or Madame M, just as everyone else did.

Their yearly visit to South Carolina was long anticipated during the winters, and quickly forgotten once they were back and safely snuggled in their little valley where their long redwood house nestled.

"Safe in the valley where the wind doesn't blow," Cary’s mother said often. Too often, really, as if the wind blowing greatly distressed her.

Cary reached their curving drive, parked his bike and went inside the house finding no signs of Harry or his mother.

Damn!

Cary raced into the kitchen where their maid, Mary was preparing dinner. She spent most of her time in the kitchen. She had a long, dour face unless she was smiling; fortunately, she smiled most of the time. She could order you to do this, do that, and with her smile take the pain from the ordeal of doing for yourself, which was something his brother Harry refused to do.

Cary suspected Mary waited on Harry more than him because he spilled when he tried to pour his own milk. He dropped when he carried a glass of water. There wasn't anything he could hold on to, and nothing he could keep from bumping into. Tables fell, lamps toppled. If an extension wire was anywhere in the house Harry would be sure to snag his sneaker toes underneath and down he'd go, or the blender, the mixer, or the radio, would crash to the floor.

"Where's Harry?" Cary asked Mary, who was peeling potatoes to put in with the roast beef she had in the oven.

"I tell you, Cary, I'll be glad when that boy stays in school just as long as you do. I hate to see him come in the kitchen. I have to stop what I'm doing and look around and anticipate just what he might knock off or bump into. Thank God he's got that wall to sit on. What is it you boys do up on that wall, anyway?"

"Nothing," Cary said.

He didn't want to tell her how often they stole over to the deserted mansion beyond the wall and played there. The estate was off-limits to them, but parents weren't supposed to see and know everything.

Next he asked "Where's Mom?"

Mary said she'd come home just a little earlier than him from the boarding school where she teached, due to class being cancelled which he already knew being a part of that class.

“Half the class has colds," he explained, “Half the school really, but where is she now?"

"Cary, I can't keep my eye on everybody and still know what I'm doing. A few minutes ago she said something about going up to the attic for old pictures. Why don't you join her up there and help her search?”

Cary knew that was Mary’s nice way of saying he was in her way. He headed for the attic stairs, which were hidden in the far end of their large walk-in linen closet in the back hall.

Just as he was passing through the family room he heard the front door open and close. To his surprise he saw his dad standing stock-still in the foyer, a strange look of reflection in his blue eyes, making Cary reluctant to call out and break into his thoughts.

Cary paused, undecided.

He headed for his bedroom after he put down his black doctor's bag. He had to pass the linen closet with its door slightly ajar. He stopped, listening as Cary was to the faint sound of ballet music drifting down the stairs.

Why was his mother up there? Dancing there again? Whenever Cary asked why she danced in such a dusty place, she explained she was "compelled to dance up there, despite the heat and dust.

“Don't you tell your father about this," she'd warned him several times.

After he’d questioned her, she'd stopped going up there—and now she was doing it again.

This time Cary was going up and his time he was going to listen to the excuses she gave him. For his Dad would catch her!

On tiptoe Cary trailed his dad up the steep, narrow stairs. He paused directly under the bare electric bulb that hung down the apex of the attic. He riveted his eyes upon Cary’s mother who kept right on dancing as if she didn't see him there. She held a dust mop in one hand and playfully swiped at this or that, miming Cinderella and certainly not Princess Aurora from The Sleeping Beauty, which was the music she had on the ancient record player.

Cary watched his dad’s heart seemingly jump right up into his eyes. He looked scared, and Cary sensed she was hurting him just by dancing in the attic. How odd.

Cary didn't understand what went on between them. He was fourteen and Harry was nine, and they were both a long, long way from being adults. The love they had for each other seemed to Cary, very different from the love he saw between the parents of the friends he had. Their love seemed more intense, more tumultuous, more passionate. Whenever they thought no one was watching they locked eyes, and they had to reach out and touch whenever they passed one another.

Now that Cary was an adolescent, he was beginning to take more notice of what went on between the most meaningful models he had. He wondered often about the different facets his parents had. One for the public to view; another for Harry and him; and the third, most fervent side, which they showed only to each other.

How could they know their two sons were not always discreet enough to turn away and leave like they should?

Maybe that was the way all adults were, especially parents.

Cary’s dad kept staring as his mom whirled in the pirouettes that fanned her long blonde hair out in a half circle. Her leotards were white, her pointes white too, and Cary was enthralled as she danced, wielding that dust mop like a sword to stab at old furniture that Harry and Cary had outgrown.

Scattered on the floor and shelves were broken toys, kiddy-cars and scooters, dishes she or Mary had broken that she meant to glue back together one day. With each swipe of her dust mop she brought zillions of golden dustmotes into play, Frenzied and crazy they struggled to settle down before she attacked again and once more and drove them into flight.

“Depart!" she cried, as a queen to her slaves. “Go and stay away! Torment me no more!" and round and round she spun, so fast Cary had to turn to follow her with his eyes or end up dizzy just from watching.

She whipped her head, her leg, doing fouettes with more expertise than Cary had seen on stage. Wild and possessed she spun faster, faster, keeping time to the music, using the mop as part of her action, making housework so dramatic Cary wanted to kick off his shoes and jump in and join her and be the partner his father had once been. But he could only stand in the dim purplish shadows and watch something he sensed he shouldn't be watching.

Cary’s dad swallowed over the lump which must have risen in his throat. Cary’s mom looked so beautiful, so young and soft.

She was thirty-seven, so old in years but so young in appearance, in Cary’s mind, and so easily she could be wounded by an unkind word. Just as easily as any sixteen-year-old dancer in her classes.

"Caren!” cried Cary’s father, jerking the needle from the record so the music screeched to a halt.

“STOP! What are you doing?"

She heard and fluttered her slim pale arms in mock fright, flittering toward him, using the tiny, even steps called bourrées. For a second or so only, before she was again spinning in a series of pirouettes around him, encircling him-and swiping at him with her dust mop!

"STOP IT!” he yelled, seizing hold of her mop and hurling it away. He grabbed her waist, pinioning her arms to her sides as a deep blush rose to stain her cheeks. He released his hold enough to allow her arms to flutter like broken bird wings so her hands could cover her throat.

Above those crossed pale hands her blue eyes grew larger and very dark. Her full lips began to quiver.

When his mom spoke then, her voice was husky and scared, "Daniel? You're home? You don't usually come home this early ..."

He'd caught her and Cary was relieved. Now he could straighten her out, tell her not to dance up here again in the dry, dusty air that could make her faint. Even Cary could see she was having trouble coming up with some excuse.

“Caren," Cary’s dad went on in the same cold, hard voice, "don't stand there and try to look innocent, like some wicked child caught stealing. Why are you up here?”

Cary drifted closer, then hid behind a strut that rose to the rafters. Something sad and painful was between them; something young, fresh, like a raw wound that refused to heal.

Cary’s mother looked ashamed and suddenly awkward.

The man Cary called Dad stood bewildered; Cary could tell he wanted to take her in his arms and forgive her. “Caren, Caren," he pleaded with anguish, "don't be like your mother in every way!"

Cary’s mother jerked her head high, threw back her shoulders, and, with arrogant pride, glared him down. She flipped her long hair back from her face and smiled to charm him.

Was she doing all of that just to make him stop asking questions she didn't want to answer?

Cary felt strangely cold in the musty gloom of the attic. A chilling shiver raced down his spine, making him want to run and hide. Making Cary ashamed, too, for spying was Harry's way, not his.

How could he escape without attracting their attention? No, he couldn’t, he had to stay in his hidden place.

"Look at me, Caren. You're not the sweet young ingenue anymore, and this is not a game. There is no reason for you to be up here.”

Her arms spread wide as if to hug him, but he pushed her away and spoke again, “Don't try to appeal to me when I feel sick to my stomach. I ask myself each day how I can come home and not be tired of you, and still feel as I do after so many years, and after all that has happened. Yet I go on year after year loving you, needing and trusting you. Don't take my love and make it into something ugly!"

Bewilderment clouded her expression and it clouded Cary’s too

Didn't he truly love her? Was that what he meant? Cary wondered.

"Daniel, help me!" she choked, stepping closer and opening her arms again. He put her off, shaking his head.

She implored, "Please don't shake your head and act like you don't understand. I don't remember why I came up here. I really don’t.”

“Caren.”

"Move out of the shadows. I can't see you where you are,” Cary’s mother said as she lifted her small pale hands, seeming to wipe away invisible cobwebs. Then she was staring at her hands as if they'd betrayed her-or was she really seeing spiderwebs tying her fingers together?

Just as Cary’s dad did, he looked around again. Never had the attic been so clean before. The floor had been scrubbed, cartons of old junk were stacked neatly. She had tried to make the attic look homey by hanging pretty pictures of flowers on the walls.

Cary’s dad was eyeing his mom as if she were crazy. Cary wondered what he was thinking, and why he couldn't tell what bothered her when he was the best doctor ever. Was he trying to decide if she was only pretending to forget? Did that dazed, troubled look in her terrified eyes tell him differently?

It must have, for he said softly, kindly, "Caren, you don't have to look scared. You're not swimming in a sea of deceit anymore, or helplessly caught in an undertow. You are not drowning. Not going under. Not having a nightmare. You don't have to clutch at straws when you have me."

Then he drew her into his arms as she fell toward him, grasping as if to keep from drowning.

"You're all right, darling," he whispered, stroking her back, touching her cheeks, drying the tears that began to flow. Tenderly he tilted her chin up before his lips slowly lowered to hers.

The kiss lasted and lasted, making Cary hold his breath.

"You’re okay. You’re here with me. You’re safe.”

Cary shivered. What were they talking about? Cary was terrified.

“I guess I did drift into nightmares after I finished my bath and laid out on the bedroom patio. I don't even remember climbing the stairs up here. I don't know why I come, or why I dance, unless I am losing my mind. I feel I am her sometimes, and then I hate myself!"

"No, you're not her, your mother is miles and miles away where she can never hurt you again. Virginia is three thousand miles from here, and yesterday has come and gone. Ask yourself one question whenever you are in doubt, if we could survive the worst, doesn't it stand to reason we should be able to bear the best?”

Cary wanted to run, wanted to stay. He felt he, too, was drowning in their sea of deceit even when he didn't understand what they were talking about.

Cary saw two people, his parents, as strangers he didn't know, younger, less strong, less dependable.

"Kiss me," Cary’s mom murmured. "Wake me up and chase away the ghosts. Say you love me and always will, no matter what I do."

Eagerly enough Cary’s dad did all of that. When he had her convinced, she wanted him to dance with her. She replaced the needle on the record and again the music soared.

Shriveled up tight and small, Cary watched him try to do the difficult ballet steps that would have been so easy for Cary. He didn't have enough skill or grace to partner someone as skilled as his mom. It was embarrassing to even see him try.

Soon enough she put on another record where he could lead.

‘Dancing in the dark, till the tune ends, we're dancing in the dark’

Now his dad was confident, holding her close, his cheek pressed to hers as they went gliding around the floor.

"I miss the gardens sometimes. And that room, with Cassidy asleep just down the hall,” she said softly.

His dad’s eyes were closed, his voice soft and dreamy, "I love you, the moment I saw you. Even when you were with William. I loved you so much.”

But now that the dance was over, the argument began again: "Okay, you're feeling better, yourself again," Cary’s dad said, “I want you to solemnly promise that if anything ever happens to me, be it tomorrow, or years from now, you swear that you will never, so help you God, abandon Harry and Cary so you can go unencumbered into another marriage!"

Stunned, Cary watched his mom jerk her head upward before she gasped: “Is that what you think of me? Damn you for thinking I am so much like her! Maybe I did come up here but never once did it cross my mind to...to ... Daniel you know I wouldn't do that!"

Do what, what? Cary wondered.

His dad made her swear. Really forced her to speak the words while her blue eyes glared hot and angry at him all the while.

Sweating now, hurting too, Cary felt angry and terribly disillusioned in his dad, who should know better. His mother wouldn't do that. She couldn't! She loved him. She loved Harry, too Even if she did look at him sometimes with shadows in her eyes, still she would never, never abandon them, right?

His dad left her standing in the middle of the attic, turning to confront Cary’s mother again he said,

"Perhaps you’re only reliving the part you feel you were born to play. Perhaps you only finally came to me because all other options had been exhausted. Perhaps in the end both Cary and Harry will come to forget me like all the others and you’ll forget me too. So don't whisper to me tonight when we're in bed about adopting another child. We cannot afford to involve another child in the mess we have. Don't you realize, Caren, that everytime you come up here you’re thinking about what to do if things fell apart.”

"No," she objected, spreading her hands helplessly. “I wouldn't. I couldn't do that...

"You have to mean that!” he snapped. “No matter what happens, we will not, or you will not, abandon our children or lock them away to save yourself or me.”

"I hate you for thinking I would!"

"I am trying to be patient. I am trying to believe in you. I know you still have nightmares. I know you are still tormented by all that happened when you were young and innocent. But you have to grow up enough to look at yourself honestly. Haven't you learned yet that the subconscious often leads the way to reality?"

He strode back to cuddle her close, to soothe and kiss her, to soften his voice as she clung to him desperately.

Why did she have to feel so desperate?

“Caren, my heart, put away those fears instilled by your. There is no hell but that which we make for ourselves. There is no heaven but that which we build between us. Don't chip away at my belief, my love, with your 'unconscious' deeds. I have no life without you."

"Then don't make me go see my mother this summer."

He raised his head and stared over hers, pain in his eyes.

Cary slid silently on the floor to sit and stare at them. What was going on? Why was he suddenly so afraid?

On Sunday Cary spent the day outside with Harry and smiled as he said, “And on the seventh day God rested," read Cary as Harry finished patting the earth nice and firm over the pansy seeds that were meant to honor their aunt Cassidy and uncle Cody's birthday on May 21st.

Both been dead a long, long time. Cassidy was around for Cary for awhile, but Cody was long dead before he was born. It seemed people died easy in their family.

Harry wondered why they liked pansies so much? He thought they were silly little nothing flowers with pudding faces.

Harry wished his mother didn't think honoring dead people's birthdays was so important.

“You know what else?" asked Cary, making Harry feel like nine was a dumb age, and he was a big adult.

“In the beginning, when God created Adam and Eve, they lived in the Garden of Eden without wearing any clothes at all. Then one day an evil talking snake told them it was sinful to walk around naked, so Adam put on a fig leaf.”

“What did Eve put on?" Harry asked as he looked around, hoping to see a fig leaf.

Cary went on reading in a singsong way that took Harry into the story. Cary was good at that. Telling stories, making stories, or singing songs. Cary was good at everything in Harry’s opinion. His voice was soft and rich and good for singing, and he could make up any little story or song on the spot, but even still all Cary ever seemed to want to do was dance.

"Cary, where do you find fig leaves?" Harry asked.

"Why?" Cary asked back looking up from the flowers.

"If I had one, I'd take off all my clothes and wear it,” Harry told him.

Cary laughed, “Jesus, Harry, there's only one way for a boy to wear a fig leaf, and you'd be embarrassed."

"I would not!"

"You would too!"

"I'm never embarrassed!” Harry told him.

"Then how do you know what it's like? Besides, have you ever seen Dad wear a fig leaf?"

"No…," Harry said, “But I’ve never seen a fig leaf so how can I know if I have or not.

Cary laughed loudly and said, "Boy, you'd know!”

Harry watched then as Cary grinned and started jumping up to leap up all the marble steps in one long bound that Harry couldn't help but admire.

Harry, he had to trail along behind. He wished he was graceful like Cary. He wished he could dance and charm everybody into liking him. But no, Cary was bigger, older and smarter, but Harry thought he would make himself smarter if not bigger.

But he'd grow taller by and by, catch up with Cary, and then bypass him. Why, Harry would grow taller than their dad.

He was nine years old, but boy did he wish he was fourteen.

He looked up, and there was Cary sitting on the top step, waiting for him to catch up.

Harry found it insulting and hateful. God sure hadn't been kind to Harry when he passed out coordination.

Harry remembered five years ago when he was four and Mary gave each of them a baby chick, all soft yellow fuzz, making chirps and cheeps.

He’d never felt nothing so good before in his whole live long life. There Hary was loving it, holding it, and sniffing its baby smell before he put it kindly on the ground, and darn if that chick didn't fall over dead.

"You squeezed,” said their dad, who knew about stuff like that, “I warned you not to hold it too tight. Baby chicks are fragile and you have to handle them with care. Their hearts are very near the surface, so next time, gentle hands, okay?”

Harry thought God might strike him dead then and there, even though most of it was God’s fault anyway. It wasn't his fault that God didn't make his nerve endings go all the way to the surface of his skin. It wasn't Harry’s fault he couldn't feel pain like everybody else.

Harry shivered, fearful God might do something. But when he was forgiven Harry went an hour later to the little pen where Cary's live chick had been walking around lonesome. Harry picked him up and told him he had a friend.

Boy, they had a good time with Harry chasing him and the chick chasing Harry, when all of a sudden, after only two hours of having fun, that chick keeled over dead too!

Heated stiff cold things. Why'd it give up so easily?

"What's the matter with you?" Harry shouted. “I didn't squeeze! My hands didn't hold you! I was careful, so stop playing dead and get up or my daddy will think I killed you on purpose!"

Once Harry had seen his dad haul a man out of the water and save his life by pumping out the water and blowing in air, so Harry did the same things to the chick, but it stayed dead. Next Harry massaged its heart, then he prayed, and still it stayed dead.

Harry was no good. No good for anything, he thought. He couldn't stay clean. Mary said clean clothes on him were a waste of her good time. He couldn't hold on to a dish when he dried it, and new toys fell apart soon after they came his way. New shoes looked old in ten minutes after knowing his feet. But it wasn’t his fault if they scuffed up easily. People just didn't know how to make good, unscuffable shoes. Harry had never seen a day when his knees weren't scabby or covered with bandaids.

When he played ball he tripped and fell between bases. His hands didn't know how to catch right, so his fingers bent backward and twice he'd had fingers broken. Three times he'd fallen from trees. Once he broke his right arm, and once his left arm. The third time he only got bruises.

Cary never broke anything.

It was no wonder he thought that their mom kept telling him and not Cary to not go next door to that big house with so many staircases, cause sooner or later she knew he'd fall down steps and break all his bones.

"What a pity you don't have much coordination," mumbled Cary. Then he stood up and yelled, “Harry, stop running like that! Lean forward, use your legs like pumps. Put your heart in it and let go! Forget about falling. You won't if you don't expect to. And if you catch me I'll give you my superspeed ball!”

Boy there wasn't nothing Harry wanted in this whole wide world more than he wanted that ball of Cary’s.

Cary could throw it with a curve. When he pitched at tin cans sitting on the wall, he'd hit them one after another. He could be a baseball player too Harry thought if he ever did anything but dance. Harry never hit anything he aimed for, but he did hit a lot he didn't even see, like windows and people.

“I don't want your old speedball?" Harry gasped, though he did want it. It was a better ball than his; they were always giving Cary better stuff than Harry.

Cary looked at Harry with sympathy, making him want to cry. Harry hated pity!

"You can have it even if you don't win the race and you can give me yours. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings. I just want you to stop being afraid of doing everything wrong, and then maybe you won't. Sometimes getting mad enough helps you win.”

He smiled, and Harry guessed if their mother had been around she would have thought his flash of white teeth was charming.

Harry’s face was born for scowling, “I don't want your old ball," Harry repeated, refusing to be won over to someone handsome, graceful and fourteenth in a long line of Russian ballet dancers who'd married ballerinas.

What was so great about dancers? Harry wondered. Nothing, nothing. God had smiled on Cary's legs and made them pretty, while Harry’s looked like knobby sticks that wanted to bleed.

"You hate me, don't you? You want me to die, don't you?" Harry cried to Cary.

Cary gave him a funny, long look and then shook his head sadly and said, “No I don't hate you,” cause of course Cary didn’t hate anyone, “I don't want you to die. I like having you for my brother even if you are clumsy and a squealer."

"Thanks heaps," Harry said back.

"Yeah... think nothing of it,” Cary smiled at him, “Let's go look at the house."

On the weekends and during the summers when Cary was home from school they went to the high white wall and sat up there, and some days they went inside the house.

Soon school would be over and Cary would be here all the time with nothing to do all day but play with Harry and he hated that he couldn’t wait for Cary to be back with him. One year he’d been going to that fancy performing arts school and Harry missed him terribly. But it was nice to know the house was there, waiting for them.

A spooky old house with lots of rooms, jagged halls, trunks full of hidden treasures, high ceilings, odd-shaped rooms with small rooms joining, sometimes a row of little rooms hiding one behind the other. Spiders lived there and spun webs on the fancy chandeliers. Mice ran everywhere, having hundreds of babies to put droppings all over. Garden insects moved inside and climbed the walls and crept on the wood floors. Birds came down the chimneys and fluttered about madly as they tried to find a way out. Sometimes they banged against walls, windows, and they'd come in and find them dead and pitiful.

But sometimes Cary and Harry would arrive in the nick of time and throw open windows and doors so they could escape.

Cary figured someone must have abandoned the old house quickly. Half the furniture was there, sitting dusty and molding, giving off smelly odors that made Cary wrinkle his nose.

Harry thought he could stand real still and almost hear the ghosts talking, and if they sat still on a dusty ole velvet couch and didn't talk, up from the cellar would come a faint rustling like the ghosts wanted to whisper secrets in their ears.

“Don't you ever tell anybody ghosts talk to you, or they'll think you're crazy," Cary had warned.

They already had one crazy person in their family, their mother’s mother, who was in a nuthouse way back in Virginia. Once a summer they went East to visit her and old graves. Their mother wouldn't go in the long brick building where people in pretty clothes strolled over green lawns, and nobody would have guessed they were crazy if attendants in white suits hadn't been there too.

Every summer their mother would ask, when their dad came back from seeing her mother, "Well, is she better?"

And their dad would look sad before he'd say, "No, not really much progress... but there would be if you would forgive her."

That always shook their mother up and she acted like she wanted that grandmother to stay locked up forever.

"You listen to me, Daniel, darling!” Their mother had snapped, "It's the other way around, remember! She's the one who should go down on her knees and plead, she should ask for my forgiveness!"

Last summer they hadn't gone East to visit anybody. Harry hated old graves and old Madame Milena with her black dusty clothes and her big bun of white and black hair. Harry didn't care if those two old ladies back East ever had a visit from them again. And as for those down in those gaves, let them stay there without flowers! There were too many dead people in their lives, messing it up.

"C'mon, Harry!" called Cary. He had already scaled the tree on their side of the wall, and was up waiting for Harry. Harry managed the climb, then settled down next to Cary, who insisted he sit against the tree trunk, just in case.

“You know what?" said Cary wistfully, “Someday I'm gonna buy Mom a house just as big. Every once in a while I overhear her and Dad talking about big houses, so I guess she wants one larger than the one we already have.”

"Yeah, they sure do talk a lot about big houses,” Harry sighed.

"I like our house better," said Cary, while Harry set about drumming his heels against the wall, which had bricks under the crumbling white stucco.

Their Mom had mentioned once she thought the bricks showing through added an "interesting texture contrast," so Harry did what he could to make the wall more interesting.

But it was sure true that in a big house like that one over there you could get lost in the dark and ramble on and on for days on end. None of the bathrooms worked. They had no water. Just crazy sinks with no water and a stupid fruit cellar with no fruit, and a wine cellar with no wine.

"Wouldn't it be nice if a big family moved in over there?" Cary said, wishing like Harry that they could have lots of nearby friends to play with. But they didn't have anybody but each other once they came home from school.

"And if they had two boys and two girls it would be just perfect," went on Cary dreamily before he coughed and added, “Though it sure would be cool to have all girls living next door,” he chuckled though Harry noticed a weird far off look in his eyes and a flush to his neck.

Neat, sure. Harry bet he was just wishing Harmony Fincher would move in over there. Then he could see her every day and hug and kiss her like he'd seen him do a few times. Or maybe he’d prefer that boy Joey who he went to the boarding school with too but who lived in North Carolina during the summers. When they went back to South Carolina to visit Cary’s grandmother and the graves he was always talking about visiting Joey too. Harry was jealous that he had another friend that wasn’t him.

“I hate girls,” Harry declared, “I want all boys!"

Cary laughed and said that Harry was only nine and soon enough he'd like girls more or just as much as boys, or maybe he wouldn’t, and that was okay too.

Harry didn’t know what he meant by any of it, so he just wondered, “Is Harmony related to a finch bird?” Harry asked.

"Do you realize how dumb that makes you sound? That's her last name, it doesn't mean anything."

Just when Harry wanted to say he was the dumb one because all names had to mean something, or else why have them, two trucks pulled up in the long driveway of the mansion.

Nobody ever went over there but them. They sat on and watched the workmen running around doing this and that. Some went up on the orange roof their mom said was called "pantile” and began to check it over.

Others went inside the house with ladders and cans that looked like they held paint. Some had huge rolls of wallpaper under their arms. Others checked over the windows, and some looked at the shrubs and trees.

"Hey!" said Cary, looking very upset, "Somebody must have bought that place. I'll bet they'll move in after it's fixed up."

They didn't want any neighbors suddenly, who would disturb their mom and dad’s privacy. All the time they were talking about how nice it was to not have close neighbors to "disturb their privacy."

Cary and Harry sat on until it grew dark, then they went into their house and didn't say a word to their parents, for when you said something out loud, that meant it was really true. Thoughts didn't count.

The next day it was Sunday and they went on a picnic at Stinson Beach, then came the afternoon and Cary and Harry were back up on the wall, staring over at all that activity. It was foggy and cold, but they could see just well enough to be bothered. But they couldn't go over there and have a place of their own anymore.

Where would they play now?

"Hey, you kids!" called a burly man one day when they were only watching, "What are you doing up there?"

"Nothing!" yelled Cary.

Harry never talked to strangers, and Cary was always teasing him for not talking to anybody much but himself.

"Don't you kids tell me you're not doing anything when I see you over here! This house is private property, so stay off these grounds or you'll hear from me!"

He was real mean, and fierce looking and his work clothes were old and dirty. When he came closer Harry saw the biggest feet in his life, and the dirtiest boots. Harry was glad the wall was ten feet high and they had the advantage over him.

"Sure we play over there a little," said Cary, who wasn't scared of anybody as far as Harry could tell, "but don't hurt anything. We leave it like we found it."

"Well, from now on stay off altogether!” he snapped, glaring first at Cary, then at Harry, "Some rich dame has bought this place and she won't want kids hanging around. And don't you think you can get by with anything because she's an old lady living alone. She's bringing servants with her. Rich people can have everything their own way," muttered the man on the ground as he moved off, “Do this, do that, and have it done yesterday. Money. God, what I wouldn't do to have my share."

They had only Mary, so they weren't really rich. Besides Mary was more like a maiden aunt, not really a relative or a servant. To Harry she was just somebody he'd known all his life. Somebody who didn't like him nearly as much as she liked Cary, but that was pretty much everyone as far as Harry could tell. Besides he didn't like her either, so he didn't care.

Weeks passed and school ended so Cary was back home all the time and Harry was happier than he cared to admit about that. He liked sharing a room with him again and being able to crawl into the bed alongside him when he had a bad dream.

Still those workmen were over there though, and by this time their parents had noticed, and they weren't too happy about neighbors they didn't intend to visit and make welcome.

Both Cary and Harry wondered why they didn't want friends coming to their house.

"It's love," whispered Cary. "They're still like honeymooners. Remember, dad is our mom's third husband, and the bloom hasn't worn off.”

What bloom? Harry wondered, he didn't see any flowers. Cary and his poetry words didn’t make any sense to Harry. Still it made no sense for the love to not have faded some, they had been married for seven years now.

Cary was going to be in his freshman year of high school after this summer, and he’d passed with flying colors at the top of his class. Harry saw how happy that made their dad who was studious himself.

Harry had just barely sneaked by and would be in fifth grade at the end of the summer. He hated school.

Gone were all the spooky, eerie times they had though when they’d had lots of fun over in that mansion.

"We'll just bide our time until we can sneak over there and see that old lady," Cary said, whispering so all those gardeners trimming the shrubs and snipping at the trees wouldn't hear.

She owned acres of land, twenty or more. That made for lots of cleanup jobs, since the workmen on the roof were letting everything fall. Her yard was littered with papers, spills of nails, bits of lumber left over from repair jobs, plus trash that blew through the iron fence in front of the driveway that was near what Cary called "lover's lane."

That hateful construction boss was picking up beer cans as he headed their way, scowling just to see them when they weren't doing a thing wrong.

“How many times do I have to tell you boys?" he bellowed. "Now, don't force me to say it again!" He put his huge fists on his hips and glared up at them, “I've warned you before to stay off that wall. Now. Scat!"

Harry looked at Cary who looked aloof and unwilling to move from the wall when it wasn't any harm to just sit and look.

"Are the two of you deaf?" the man yelled again.

In a flash Harry watched as Cary's face turned from handsome to mean.

"No, we are not deaf! We live here. This wall is on the property line, and just as much ours as it is hers. Our dad says so. So we will sit up here and watch just as long as we like. And don't you dare yell and tell us to 'scat' again!"

The man scowled and grumbled, “Sassy kid, aren't yah?" and off he wandered without even looking at Harry who felt he was just as sassy inside.

#cary: musing #cary: story #harry: musing #caren: musing #danield: musing

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patheticallygone · 6 years

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3 Best Electric Scooters for Children - Plus Off-Road

For our survey we are taking a gander at standup bikes from around $100 and up to $300 which is the most widely recognized value section. Cost is for the most part controlled by the quality, highlights, battery life and greatest speed.

We should get into it and for Further Information you may discover about Electric Scooters

Hop to:

Most Popular Electric Scooter

Best Expert Electric Scooter

Best Off-Road Electric Scooter

Electric Scooter Resource Pages

Next to each other highlights of the main 8 bikes on Amazon

Razor E100 versus E125 versus E150 versus E175

Razor E200 versus E200s versus E225 versus E250

Razor E300 versus E300s versus E325

Razor RX200 versus E200

Electric Scooter Buying Guide

Most Popular Electric Scooter: Razor E100

e100-dark

The Razor E100 Electric Scooter is undoubtedly the most mainstream among buyers because of its blend of highlights, 7 shading decisions and cost. The Razor E100 is offered in an assortment of fun hues, for example, Black, Purple, Red, Gray, and two shades of Pink. Dark handlebars with included grasps for solace and support enables the rider to hang on securely and successfully. This bike can convey kids up to 120 pounds making it the ideal bike for more youthful children.

Activity

The Razor E100 highlights a durable and rechargeable 24V fixed battery framework, alongside a charger. At the point when your new bike arrives it is suggested that it be charged for 24 hours, however is usable after 12. Completely charging the battery will make it last more and give quicker revives.

With up to 40 minutes of fun before requiring an energize, this bike includes a high-torque 100 watt engine that is to a great degree calm. This enables the rider to hear approaching vehicles or drivers, keeping the rider sheltered and out of mischief's way.

The bike is worked by an effectively turned contort throttle that enables the rider to movement at velocities of up to 10 miles for each hour. The turn throttle offers 1 speed that is either on or off, so it is simple for youthful youngsters to work. It likewise includes a simple to utilize kick begin engine for safe departures. This implies the engine won't begin until the point that the bike is as of now moving. This push to begin include expands the life of the battery and empowers apprentices to work easily as it gives a smooth begin with no curve balls.

e100 controls

A spring stacked kickstand enables the bike to stand freely without leaning it against something, or lie it on the ground. The Razor bike additionally includes an eight inch pneumatic front tire for a smooth ride, most extreme strength and a lot of grasp. The back tire is a strong urethane (like a kick bike), which can wind up dangerous in wet conditions so mind should be taken.

The brakes are hand worked on the handlebars and this is the main bike with a front edge brake like those found on bikes. However a few proprietors note it isn't excessively capable, so mind should be gone up against slopes. This bike tips the scales at 29 pounds which is one of the lightest accessible.

For additional data, the Razor E100 proprietor's manual can be found here.

The Razor E100 is regularly viewed as the best electric bike for kids due to its flexibility and cost. It is an agreeable ride for youngsters ages 7 and up. The bike can deal with kids up to 120 pounds, influencing this a bike they to can appreciate for a long time, yet sufficiently simple for more youthful youngsters as well.

Purchasing

In case you're thinking about how the E100 looks at to comparative models, for example, the E125, don't stress, they're really the same. Look at the subtle elements which I've sketched out here: Razor E100 versus E125 versus E150 versus E175

Razor E100 Electric Scooter (all hues)

Best Expert Electric Scooter: Razor E300

Razor E325

The Razor E325 Electric Scooter is viewed as a standout amongst other electric bikes available and gets the most astounding client appraisals. It's accessible in blue, red, and matte dark and is worked for a very long time 12 and more seasoned – take note of that it's a significant expansive bike sufficiently enormous for grown-ups.

The bike includes a super-sized deck and edge to help riders up to 220lbs, making it likewise appropriate for grown-ups. Note that this bike is worked for experienced riders. It doesn't require a push begin and works to higher paces making it unsatisfactory for riders who are simply figuring out how to utilize an electric bike.

Activity

The Razor E325 is furnished with a powerful and superior 300 watt engine that is equipped for speeds up to 15 miles for each hour. It is fueled by a rechargeable 24V fixed battery framework with the battery charger included. This Scooter includes a high torque, chain driven engine that is incredibly calm for a smooth and calm ride. This empowers the rider to hear approaching activity, and different drivers as an additional security advantage guardians and children are certain to love.

It works with a one speed curve throttle the same as all assessed bikes in the value section, however fortunately the E300 has a collapsing handlebar to make stockpiling and transport simpler. The dark handle seen beneath is unscrewed to open the handlebar which would then be able to be collapsed back.

e325-handlebar

The front and back tires are both pneumatic with 10″ width giving a smoother ride over an assortment of surfaces and furthermore gives better soundness at quicker speeds. You will discover a hand worked raise brake on the Razor E300 electric bike which is extremely powerful, giving a sheltered prevent from its 15 mph top speed.

e325 controls

The Razor E325 offers a spring stacked kickstand so the rider can store his or her ride securely. The bike weighs 52 pounds making it the heaviest, yet most capable of the three audited. This likewise makes it sufficiently vast for riders up to 220 pounds and can be appreciated by more established youngsters and grown-ups alike.

With a most extreme ride time per energize at to 40 minutes, riders can utilize it as transportation. Undergrads, especially think that its helpful for getting around grounds rapidly and effectively. Frequently when we consider bikes we relate them as youngsters' toys, however this specific bike has changed the diversion and made it something for everybody, so regardless of your age don't delay to participate in the good times.

The E325 is frequently contrasted with the Reddie on the grounds that they have comparative power and highlights. The Reddie is likewise a collapsing bike, however it is around 30% more costly and has a surprising inclining deck on the back which can be awkward to ride for expanded periods.

For additional data, the Razor E300 proprietors' manual can be downloaded here.

The Razor E325 gets awesome audits with respect to both wellbeing and strength. Clients adore that more seasoned youngsters and grown-ups can appreciate this bike as a type of transportation. It is sufficiently intense to be delighted in on a scope of surfaces including walkways, rock and even grass yards. The bigger tires give a smooth ride. It can be appreciated by youngsters as youthful as 12 the distance to grown-up, making this a standout amongst other electric bikes for children and grown-ups alike.

On the off chance that you've seen the E325, it's really the same as the E300. You can see the subtle elements here: Razor E300 versus E300s versus E325

Razor E325 Electric Scooter - Red

Razor E325 Electric Scooter - Gray

Razor E325 Electric Scooter - Blue

Best Off-Road Electric Scooter: Razor RX200

Razor RX200

Do you have earth rather than asphalts and don't need your children to pass up a great opportunity messing around with electric bikes? Razor has heard guardians all over the place and discharged the Razor RX200 electric bike. This is their most recent discharge and their first reason worked rough terrain electric bike. It depends on the ever well known Razor E200 with various outline changes making it reasonable for rough terrain utilize and can convey youngsters up to 154 lbs.

The Razor RX200 is fueled by the same 24V rechargeable fixed batteries (charger included) and chain-drive 200W engine as the E200 impelling it to 12mph. A decent expansion is a freewheel raise center point which gives the bike a chance to drift like a bike.

Not at all like lower fueled bikes this one doesn't require a push begin – simply contort the throttle and go. Also, continue going – for up to 40 minutes of constant utilize.

Razor RX200

The casing and general size of the RX200 is the same as the E200, yet where it gets fascinating is all the outline changes to make go romping it's characteristic play area:

Pneumatic rough terrain tires

Hand worked raise circle brake

Full length hold tape

Fortified riser style handlebars

Substantial obligation triple jolt handlebar cinch

Razor RX200

It's consoling to see so much idea and exertion has gone into making the RX200 a fun and safe electric bike for rough terrain.

For additional data, the Razor RX200 proprietors' manual can be downloaded here.

The RX200 is just as great as their different models passing by the client audits, with a lot of 5 star evaluations. A few guardians extremely like the way that this bike can be utilized as a part of the terrace so the children aren't in the city. In case you're searching for the best go dirt road romping electric bike, here it is!

Razor RX200 Electric Scooter

Guardians are frequently searching for safe toys that are simple on the earth, so electric bikes are high on the rundown. Youngsters cherish them, they are modest to keep up and the batteries are promptly accessible. As your kid is searching for better approaches to get around consider extraordinary compared to other electric bikes recorded above to give them hours of fun and a bike they will need to utilize each day

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captain-cliftonmora · 4 years

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Segway beginner impressions

This is my first time remaining on the enchantment chariot segways . In the wake of tuning in to the educator's talk, I find out on my own that you shouldn't attempt to keep up equilibrium all alone, the segway will do it for you. In the event that you remain set up, you can feel slight quakes, in this way he rectifies the position, keeping him upstanding. This is given by sensors that work persistently. Generally, you need to fail to remember your own feeling of adjust and completely depend on the wonder strategy. With our tilt, we set the course for development.

It seems like you're drifting noticeable all around. Controlling it is significantly more clever than controlling a bike or cruiser. No actual power is required. There is an inclination that Segway is your own continuation, so development with its assistance is regular.

Apprentices ace segway photograph 1 Beginners ace segway photograph 2 Beginners ace segway photograph 3

Following five minutes of utilizing this remarkable procedure, you start to feel as though you generally realized how to oversee it. With a speed up, the driver inclines forward to an ever increasing extent, from the side it would seem that a skier flying from a springboard. Yet, don't move excessively diverted with speed. Segway will restrict your overclocking forcefully enough. Make certain to peruse the Segway Management Guide and maintain a strategic distance from essential mix-ups of unpracticed clients.

Social event speed, Segway moves easily and capably. (hoverboards)Regarding solace, I can take note of that its region isn't a lot bigger than that of an individual. Overseeing it in the progression of individuals, you move multiple times quicker than every other person, it's cool.

How is it - Segway on Russian streets?

Here, obviously, a few challenges emerge. All things considered, our streets come up short. They are regularly not adjusted for crippled individuals and child carriages, what would we be able to state about abroad innovation. In any case, by and by, things are not all that awful. Segway adapts to checks lower , however high controls and person on foot intersections should be overwhelmed with feet.

Tenderfoots ace segway photograph 4 Beginners ace segway photograph 5

For tenderfoots, I will say that hopping off checks is a lot simpler than bouncing on them. Falls and wounds are regularly connected with the way that drivers grow too high a speed or turn forcefully. Regardless, regardless of whether you fall, the segway will remain astoundingly steady.

The greatest delight in driving the Segway can be gotten on huge, level territories. You can go there at most extreme speed. (Children Scooter for Sale)But in numerous urban areas the electric bike is entirely agreeable. At the point when you ride it, you don't get drained at all and you can dedicate everything that is in you to learning new and intriguing things. So I announce with certainty - this is an indispensable vehicle for an explorer or traveler. On the off chance that you don't have the monetary way to get it, you can generally lease or lease a segway .

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newsfact · 3 years

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Save Big on Bikes and Scooters During Segway’s Halloween Sales Event – Review Geek

Segway Ready for some early Christmas shopping? Segway is slashing prices on its best scooters, bikes, and hoverboards, including several models made for children. Now’s your chance to save up to 60% on these motorized rideables from now until the end of October. Here are all the products discounted during Segway’s fall sale: Some of these products, like the Segway Drift W1 electric roller…

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andimpink · 7 years

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Junkyard Jam

A/N: Prepare yourselves for this wonderful Racing AU I came up with for the beloved Junkers. I can just see them being a kick-butt racing team and had to write a fan fiction with them doing just that. Hope someone else besides me enjoys this -.-

Screams and shouts filled the air, muffling the speedway's advertisements and boisterous music. The stands were packed to the max and people were still filing in from the admission booths. It was the hottest day of the summer but that hadn't stopped people from coming down to see the races. Who would want to miss the biggest race of the year, the 15th Annual Junkyard Jam? While that may be one reason, there was another one that was more likely. Team Junker was in town for the race and I could tell by the number of attendees wearing their merchandise that they were the reason for people braving the unforgiving sun.

Team Junker was a two-man team that had won so many races people who weren't hardcore fans had stopped counting. They were a fearless duo who didn't let anyone get the jump on them. In their sidecar motorcycle, they took the competition to a completely new level. When Mako Rutledge and Jamison Fawkes were in town to race, everyone showed up to compete. No racer in history had gotten the amount of fame they had earned themselves, which is why racers were so eager to beat them. The driver that beat them would forever be known as the racer that beat Team Junker.

Pulling my hat down over my face, I made my way down to the gate to the garage where the races waited. Flashing my badge at the guards posted outside, I entered the crowded room. It was air conditioned in here and I breathed in the cool air that smelled of gasoline, oil, and rubber. It was just as loud in here as it was outside. Drivers and their teams looked over their cars one last time before the first race began. Some had already finished and were blasting music from their home cooked rides. Every driver's anticipation to get out on the course was palpable. It was ten minutes until it was time to leave the garage and line up at the start line.

I walked past everyone to where my baby waited for me. The electric green Hoverscooter was where I had left it. I had come across the hunk of junk in my grandpa's scrap shop. He had stolen a couple parts from it and left the rest of it to rust in a corner. I was shocked when I realized it was a Model 1, the very first of its kind. They were a rare thing and I couldn't let my grandpa use the rest of it for his projects, so I asked him if I could have it. He gave it to me and I started to fix it up. Finding all the parts I needed took about a year and a half. Most of my credits went into buying those parts and I was thankful my grandpa gave me the use of his workshop.

"Oi! That is one sweet ride you got!" Looking up from the gravity modules, I found one-half of the Junker team standing there. Jamison Fawkes walked over with his authentic peg-leg swagger and squatted down next to me. "Mind if I take a look?" Before I could answer, the man was poking his nose into the gravity module compartment.

"Hey!" I barked. "I didn't say..."

"You got this piece of scrap fixed up good." Shutting the panel, he turned to me with an ear-to-ear grin. "Not every day that you see a Model 1 Hoverscooter in better than tip-top condition, sheila. Where's your hot-shot boyfriend driving it?" Clenching my fists, I glared at the Aussie. "I don't have a boyfriend. I'm..."

"Where's the driver then?" he interrupted and glanced around the room. Pointing at some rugged-looking racer with his bionic hand, he looked to me. "Is it him?"

Grabbing his hand, feeling the cold metal on my palm, I pulled it until he was pointing at me. "I am the driver. Now, if you'd kindly leave me alone.”

"Wait just a second, sheila." he said, letting out a short chuckle. "They're letting a pretty little thing like you race?"

"Yep." I said, putting my hands on my hips. "And I am going to win."

Jamison laughed the longest and most obnoxious laugh I had ever heard in my life. He sounded crazy and looked just as much. "You... hahaha... racing..." Clutching at his stomach, he keeled over and kept laughing. Anger boiled up inside me and I clenched my fists at my side. I wanted to pick up the nearest tool and knock him over the head with it, but didn't get the chance. His teammate showed up at just the right time and pushed his counterpart to the side with ease.

Mako Rutledge was not a person you wanted to mess with. He was the most intimidating driver in the room despite being the quietest. Very few had heard him speak, but he was capable of speaking his mind when he wished to. Those who had heard the man's voice said they had walked away with at least two broken bones, not to mention countless bruises and missing teeth. His silence wasn't even the most unnerving thing about him. The guy's appearance was the most intimidating thing about him. His large size combined with his iconic gas mask and rugged fashion made him the scariest person in the room.

"Hog, this sheila..." Jamison giggled, leaning against his partner. "She thinks she's got a chance to beat us." The beanpole of a man continued to lose it while Mako looked down at me, or so I thought. I tried not to look at him, but did just that when he motioned to my scooter then pointed at me.

"Uh, yeah. It's mine." I said, hoping that I had guessed what his non-verbal question was. Mako grunted in acknowledgement, but I hadn't the faintest idea what he meant by it. I noticed that the other racers were starting to be directed to leave the garage to go to the starting line. "Well, I better get going. It was nice... uh, talking to the two of you."

"Thanks, haha, for the laugh." Jamison wheezed, finally ending his bout of laughter. He returned to his upright, yet hunched, position and wiped an invisible tear from his eye. Mako had already started for their ride and Jamison followed, tossing a few last words over his shoulder. "Hope to see you at the end of the race after we've won, sheila. Maybe I will buy your Mod. 1 off of you with my winnings."

Anger boiled in my veins. I’d show that good for nothing Aussie that I meant business. He would learn quite quickly that he underestimated my abilities. The many months I spent preparing for this race would not be all for naught. When I had decided to race, I promised myself I would do everything in my ability to win. I was not going to let these big time racers be the reason for losing. I would win or my name wasn't Daisy Dawson. I grabbed my helmet and put it on, pulling the visor down. After I hopped onto my Mod 1., I made my way out to the track with the other racers.

The crowd was as rowdy as ever at the sight of the racers lining up. Not to mention the wickedness of the racecourse. This wasn't called the Junkyard Jam for no reason. The course was covered with obstacles, from mud pits to flaming oil puddles. Rusted vehicles that had been crushed lined the course. Any one of these hazards could mean the end of the race for its victim. If the course wasn't ruthless enough, then the rules sure were. There were no rules. The only real rule was that the first racer to complete all 150 laps or be the last one standing was the winner. The race's motto was 'Anything Goes' because that's how it was. Anything was allowed, no matter how devious or illegal. I could tell just by looking at some of the other contestant's vehicles that it would be a brutal race.

Everyone was finishing lining up and I looked around, feeling the anticipation build. My heart hammered in my chest and I was so much aware of everything around me. Exhaust filled the air with its acrid scent, a scent that only fueled my heightened senses. I wanted nothing more than for the race to start so I would really get a good dose of adrenaline. Team Junker was lined up not very far from where I was and I eyed the two of them. Jamison 'Junkrat' Fawkes eyed the other racers around them, that somewhat insane grin on his face. While his partner, Mako 'Roadhog' Rutledge, remained stoic and focused. The two were polar opposites and I wondered how it was they had become partners.

It wasn't too much later that the announcer's voice echoed out over the sound system. "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the 15th Annual Junkyard Jam!" The crowd roared with excitement. "We are so glad you could make it out here for the biggest event of the summer. The racers have lined up and here in a moment, they'll be starting. We have a great variety of racers, from experts to newbies. I hope you all enjoy the excitement we've got for you this year." The announcer continued to speak, but the blood rushing in my ears drowned out the sound. My eyes focused on the starting lights and I revved my scooter, feeling it rumble harder beneath me. Any moment now, I told myself. Before I knew it, the first light came on and I could feel the energy of every other racer and vehicle roar to life. Here we go. The lights lit up one by one and seemed to take forever. When they all turned bright green, I smirked under my helmet and turned the throttle. Shooting forward, the race had begun and I was determined to do my best to win.

I was passed by an Omnic on a wicked fast dirt bike before the first mud pit hazard, but managed to pass two racers who had gotten stuck in the mud. I briefly heard the announcer say that someone other than Team Junker was in the lead, but not for long. A sharp turn in the course was coming up and I prepared myself for it. Just before reaching it, I turned and drifted right around the inside of it and drifted. I laughed as I passed another opponent that was caught off guard by me and almost ran off the course. This was only the first lap, but I could easily see myself making it to the head of the pack by the last lap.

"We have newbie Daisy Dawson creeping up on the top 10 slowly but surely." the announcer commented. "That Mod. One Hoverscooter is something we have never seen before. It will be interesting to see how she handles what the competition throws her way."

As I came around another corner, an explosion a ways ahead of me startled me. Startled by the commotion, I slowed and allowed two people to pass me. I knew that there were no rules in this race, but using explosives? Was killing the contestants something racers were actually willing to do? I gulped nervously and sped back up, hoping to get back to where I was. The announcer provided explanation for the explosion. "It was just confirmed that the explosion on the course was caused by Team Junker. It seems their clever trick has knocked two racers out, dropping the number of racers to eighteen."

Of course, those two caused the explosion. I knew I had to buckle down and push forwards. Lap by lap, I made ground and lost it. About halfway through the race, I had to make a pit stop to change the battery in the Hoverscooter. It was something I had practiced so many times that I could do it in less than thirty seconds. It was blistering hot and sweat drenched my body. I took a quick drink of water from one of the bottles provided to all the racers. With the battery changed and some water in my body, I made my way quickly back onto the course. I was only a few places behind where I had been and knew I could get back with ease.

The Omnic on the zippy dirt bike had taken my place, but I caught up to him after two more laps. Just as I started to pass him, he veered towards me, forcing me close to a burning puddle of oil. I slowed down to avoid it and growled under my breath. Speeding up, I moved closer so that I could try to pass again. This time I was ready for the move he pulled. I sped up suddenly and he went off the course, missing a burning puddle of oil but hitting the edge of the course. He flew off his bike and landed a little ways in front of a stand of spectators. It wasn't like me to play a dirty move like that, but at least he was out of my way now. "Daisy Dawson, ladies and gentlemen! She has just run Zion Prince right out of the race, putting her at the number ten spot." the announcer called out.

Before I knew it, there were only ten laps left. I had made it all the way to the third spot and was catching up to the racer in second and the Junkers. The two-man team had set off about a dozen other explosions. Last I had heard, there were only 14 racers left. Being this close to those two made me a little nervous, but I could only hope that they were out of their explosives. The end was coming up and I wanted to finish this race regardless of whether I came in first or not. An explosion ahead of the Junkers went off and the crowd roared.

"What's this? Team Junker seems to have set of an explosion in front of themselves and stopped completely." Boos could be heard from a great number of the spectators. "No. It seems Cal Maverick had some explosives as well. He very well may have been responsible for some of the other explosions. His hidden trick has placed him in the top position."

This was my chance to pass Team Junker. I sped my way towards them as they struggled to catch back up to Cal Maverick. Jamison looked back over his shoulder at me, his wild looking eyes widening. He turned back and said something inaudible to Mako. More and more, I gained ground on them until I was going to make a pass. I turned the throttle and sped up, coming up next to them. We were neck and neck when something unexpected happened. I was grabbed by Mako and pulled off my Hoverscooter. A scream pushed itself past my lips and I was surprised to hear the cackling laughter of Jamison. Mako had set me in the sidecar onto of his partner, focusing once again on the course ahead. “What the heck?!" I shouted. "What is going on?!"

"We need your help, sheila". Jamison answered, letting out a short giggle. "Can't win otherwise."

"You just ruined my chance of winning, you stupid man!" I seethed, wanting nothing more than to punch his lights out. "Not to mention what may have happened to my Mod. 1!"

"She'll be right." Mako said, catching me off guard. His voice was gruff and was a definite reflection of his character. "We'll pay for any damages."

"Exactly! We'll... Oi!" Jamison smacked his partner. "What do you mean 'We'll pay for damages' mate? Are you saying we're going to give a share of our winnings to her?" Mako shrugged and Jamison groaned in annoyance. "Whatever. Thing is, we're needing your help.”

“Why should I help you?” I snapped. “You’ve done nothing to convince me I should. Any chance I had at winning is shot thanks to the two of you.” Jamison was moving around beneath me and it made me want to turn around and hit him. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop moving around and something pressed against my back at the exact moment. "Stop... What is pressing into my back, rat?"

"Just some C4." Jamison said with such nonchalance that you would think it wasn't dangerous. I was relieved that it wasn't something else, but still found it just as frightening. Maybe even more frightened. The stupid man chuckled, probably noticing how tense I had become. "You're going to need to drive for Roadie when we get close enough to this guy. We gotta blow this guy right out of the race."

"Uh... Okay." I said, not really sure I could do as he asked. "What exactly are you two going to do?"

"I'm glad you asked!" Jamison responded. He patted the nasty looking hook at Mako's hip. "Roadie here is going to hook this Maverick guy and I'm going to leave a little present once he's behind us. You're going to drive until Hog here can take back over. Got it?"

"I think so."

"Good." Jamison chuckled. "It looks like we're catching up. Soon, Roadie?"

"Soon." he grunted back. He seemed to glance down at me and I gulped nervously. Was I really willing to help them with this plan? It wouldn't matter in the end. I wasn't going to accomplish what I had come here for. They had promised me part of their winnings, but I hadn't wanted the money in the first place. I suppose I would have had a hard time making it past this Maverick guy with his explosives. Not to mention these two.

BOOM!

I yelped as dirt flew into the air and I was flung to one side of the sidecar violently as Mako swerved to dodge the blast. Jamison cackled then shouted excitedly. "This guy knows his stuff!" I wasn't sure that was something to laugh about. "He doesn't know what we've got in store for him though."

We made another lap before we were close enough to pull off the plan. There was about fifteen to twenty feet between us when Jamison nodded to his partner. "Here we go, sheila. Let's do this!" Mako picked me up once again and plopped me down in front of him, allowing me to replace his hands on the bike's handles where his once were. Focusing on driving now, I allowed the announcer to tell me all that was going on.

"Daisy Dawson has taken over driving for Team Junker while the two-man team seems to be doing something else." I gained some more ground on Maverick and hoped it would help these two with their plan. I heard the clanking of metal as well as the whoosh as something went around over the top of all three of us. "What is this? Mako 'Roadhog' Rutledge is wielding a hook. It looks like he's going to try and..." Before the announcer could say what was happening, the hook shot over the top of me and flew towards Cal Maverick. It curled around the guy and was pulled taught, yanking him clean off his bulky quad. The hulk slipped away from him and he tumbled on the ground. "They've pulled Cal Maverick right off his quad, folks!"

"Get as close to his ride, sheila!" Jamison yelled. "We're going to make sure he can't recover."

I dodged out of the way of the vehicle-less Maverick and turned the throttle to catch up with his runaway quad. It had crashed into the siding at the one sharp turn in the course. The bike was different from my scooter, but I was going to try my best to get Jamison as close to Maverick's ride as I could. We were approaching the turn fast and I readied myself to turn.

"They're going pretty fast, ladies and gentlemen." the announcer commented. "Let's see if Daisy Dawson can make this turn like she did on her own ride."

"Here we go!" I shouted as we came up on the turn. My hands directed the vehicle into a drift, swinging us around towards Maverick's vehicle and into the turn. The world seemed to slow around us and I glanced back for the few seconds it took for Jamison to toss the C4 at the quad. As it flew through the air towards its target, I pushed the Junkers' bike to the limits and sped away from where the blast would go off. A sudden wave of intense heat hit my back and my ears rang from the loud explosion.

"They've blown Maverick's quad to bits!" the announcer shouted, his voice almost inaudible because of the audiences reaction. Jamison was also celebrating the victory by hollering at the top of his lungs. "He is out of the race!"

Mako settled back into place behind me and I moved my hands so he could take over. "Good job." he said, with a hint of cockiness in his voice. Maybe he is more alike to Jamison than I thought he was.

"Thanks." I responded, smiling unbeknownst to the other two. I would not admit it to them, but I had thoroughly enjoyed being a part of their plan. It made me understand why they were a team instead of going solo. The way they worked so well together and enjoyed what they did made me wish I could have a partner of my own. "Not so bad yourselves. Not bad at all."

Finishing first was a given after knocking Cal Maverick out of the race. The crowd went crazy as we crossed the finish line and the announcer blasted off about our victory. Jamison cheered for both him and his racing partner. As they pulled into the winner's circle and parked, I hopped off the bike and started for where my scooter had been abandoned. Before I knew what was happening, I was picked up off the ground and hoisted onto the broad shoulder of Mako. On his other sat Jamison, beaming over at me. "Thought you could sneak away, eh Sheila?" Jamison laughed. "We weren't going to take all the glory, ya know."

"But..." I started, only to be cut off.

"Pish-posh!" Jamison flicked his hand back and forth. "We wouldn't have been able to win without you. Besides, Roadie here thought you'd make a great addition to the team."

"Really?" I asked, glancing down at the masked man. He nodded and I smiled down at him. "Thank you?"

Jamison chuckled and punched my shoulder. "Welcome to the team, sheila."

A/N: And that’s that! Hope you enjoyed it!

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alenahorowitz · 6 years

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Hem Spaghetti

In Ho Chi Minh City, there are almost 9-million people disseminating into 24 different districts. Like The Hunger Games, I live in District 3, Ward 5, bordering District 1. My location couldn’t get much better than this. On the larger scale, the patchwork of weird-shaped districts make up the city, but as you wander down the streets in center-city, you’ll see sweet little alleyways seemingly cut off from the rest of the world. They call these cozy little places, “hems,” and doesn’t the name just imply how comfy they are?

The air is cooler and cleaner down in the hem. Each one has an atmosphere of its own—a whole new world, a neighborhood unnoticed (unless you happen to live there or take the time to explore). Each little alleyway has new nooks and crannies, many you’d probably never appreciate, even if you drifted down that road every day for the rest of your life. Sometimes I sit on my rooftop, drinking shitty wine, and watching all the moving parts as they work as one.

The old architecture is composed of 3-4 story buildings with some definite French-influence. The tall skinny buildings are usually unfinished on the sides and only adorned on the facade, making room for other rising buildings to share their sidewalls. These shared-houses rise from the pot-holed passage, up through orange-glowing streetlights and a messy web of tangled electric wires. A pastel horizon of tiered roofs rises up into the smoky purple, light-polluted sky. Scratched-off posters, graffiti and molding paint create dirty murals that crawl up the walls. Everything is broken and peeling, rusting and receding, but the urban-decay gives each hem its own unique character. It has been well loved and used-up, and has watched many sunrises turn to sunsets.

Someone is selling noodle soup from the side of the street. Somebody peddles coffee and cigarettes from a small stand. Somebody sleeps on a cot beside bubbling pots of boiled eggs and snails. Someone is slinging slices of meat onto crusty “bánh mì” sandwiches. A family hawks costume jewelry and flashy folk-religion alter-lights. Women get pampered and polished as men lay back, in black leather chairs, puffing hand-rolled smoke as barbers shave their necks with steel-cut knives.

Little children ride tricycles, or kick themselves on scooters, practicing their balance in preparation for a lifetime of motor biking on the busy Saigon streets. Neighbors enjoy family meals from the floor of their apartments, babies coo at unusual cartoons, women wash their dishes in big metal basins and dump the wastewater into the ditches that feed down the sewer drains. People water their cactus-like plants, feed aquarium fish, and drink “ba ba bas” on their balconies.

In the mornings, families open up their gated fences and push grandma’s wheelchair outside so she can soak in the sunlight for a few hours. Walking by and waving at her, it’s as if she hasn’t been waved at in years. She’s startled, and her eyes light up as she struggles to lift her tiny trembling fingers to signal back. She smiles through her gummy toothless grin and life is simple.

It’s peaceful here. In the hem, life seems to slow. You can hear faint sounds from the surrounding motorways, but most noises are muffled within. Thick plumes of burning incense swirl around your ankles and dissipate as you stroll by. Roosters call from their confinement in circular cages, mom and dad are fighting—hissing at each other like savage cats, dishes clang, and baby cries. The hem is the epicenter of Vietnamese life: true local living.

It’s like a city within a city—the hem has a mind of its own.

Always,

Alena Horowitz | Miss Potato

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cmi-miu · 8 years

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Mini Bangtan

♢Imagine this: Living with Mini-Sized Bangtan.♢

As the early sun peeks in through the curtains in her bedroom, Army groans out loud at the jarring light that hits her face. The alarm clock rings to life for a fraction of a second before it’s slammed quiet again. By tiny hands that belong to an even tiny angel. A smile fritters on her lips in a silent ‘Thankyou.’

Opening her eyes, she turns her head to the right to check the time. The alarm clock showing the time to be eight in the morning. And next to the device, Jimin sits cross-legged.

Dressed in a white hoodie, dark brown hair haywire. Eyes puffy from sleep. Jimin has his arms folded on his knees, balancing his face haphazardly in his cupped hands. He blinks when he sees her smiling at him. Yawning as he gets to his feet.

“Morning.” He chirps, despite slumber still sticking into the corners of his eyes.

Sitting up, Army makes sure to not smash the equally tiny body of a sleeping Taehyung curled up on her pillow. Her index finger moving over his hair in a failed attempt to fix the messy locks of light brown. Chuckling to herself, she fixes her handkerchief carefully back over the boy’s body. Tucking him in by her nails.

Army then gets out of her bed, stretching before she turns to her bedside table again. She bends down in front of the little prince sitting on the furniture, and pops her hand out open in front of him. Jimin jumps into the soft palm and Army walks out of the room. Making sure to not make too much noise.

They make their way to the bathroom and Army places Jimin on the sink, letting him get to his morning routine as she walks back out. Making her way into the room next to her own.

She opens the door, and sure enough the blinds are pulled down. She chuckles to herself as she walks around the two dollhouses sitting in the middle of the bedroom. Opening the window blinds, the curse words that ring through the room, only serve to make her giddier.

An angry Namjoon storming out his dark blue house. Frowning up at the girl snickering. Only when Army points at the house next to his own with a sly expression does he somewhat arrange his feature into an irritated pout.

“Wake Jungkook up for me?”

She decides to let Namjoon wake Jungkook up. Relishing in sadistic joy as she watches Namjoon grinning as he enters the red and golden walled house.

Army then walks back into the bathroom to freshen up and finds Jimin sitting on the sink, his legs hanging off the edge. She pics him up and quickly places him on the toy bicycle by door, closing it as she watches him ride off downstairs. To the kitchen, no doubt.

Having brushed her teeth and fixed herself, Army makes her way downstairs, trusting Namjoon to get Taehyung and Jungkook down for breakfast by the time she was done. Walking into the kitchen, she switches the lights on and walks into the open plan room.

Sitting right between the kitchen isle, is another mini bedroom set. Mario theme with yellow and pink pillow covers. Seokjin sits curled into a cocoon of green and yellow comforter, rubbing his eyes. She giggles at the sight as she hold out a toy cup of warm coffee to the man.

When Seokjin takes a deep sip of the morning waker, Army walks out of the kitchen and into the living room. Making her way to the laptop sitting in the middle of the living room. Lying down on the keyboard, folded into a half burrito, his body curled into one of the headphone piece, is a black adorned Yoongi. Wearing her Kumamon doll’s clothes.

She switches off the device, after saving the song he had been working on, and scoops him into her hands. Carrying him precariously up and into the third bedroom. Placing him carefully into the beanbag he preferred to call a bed.

Army then turns to the other resident of the room, smiling to herself when she finds Hoseok sleeping in his regular position. Inside an army bomb that Army had lined with a cotton blanket. She wiggles the light stick model to rouse the man, and Hoseok blinks awake. His sunshine smile, lighting up the room. She pulls him up into the scoop of her hands and walks out as she closed the doors behind her. Switching off the lights to let Yoongi sleep a while.

Smiling when she sees Jimin scooter into the room. A huge packet of honey crisps, trailing his bike. She rolls her eyes and lets the boys be.

Army walks back into the kitchen to find Seokjin up and ready, dishing out orders to Jungkook.

“Get the saucepan, JK.” his voice travels around the kitchen.

Army snickers delightfully, watching Jungkook balance the heavy saucepan on the electric stove. As if carrying a really heavy barbell. Muscles popping out of the tiny body. She then diverts her attention towards the other three in the room.

Taehyung is sitting cross-legged in one of glass bowls, watching the scene fold out with a bored expression. For once, calm and quiet. He is using a slice of bread as a blanket.

Hoseok is no different, rubbing his eye occasionally. Yelling out cautions every time Jungkook stumbles under the weight of a spoon or other utensils.

Namjoon, on the other hand, is surprisingly grinning at the petulant expression of the maknae. Hugging the marshmallow he is seated next to. Biting into it occasionally, as he yells out orders to the youngest alongside Seokjin.

“What am I making today, Oppa?” Army questions the eldest as she enters the room, wrapping an apron around her waist.

Seokjin looks up at her with a smile and shrugs as he points at the ingredients arranged near the stove. Utensils and spices alike.

“I thought we’d do it light.” Seokjin explains pointing at the carton of milk he and Jungkook had carried over their backs from the fridge. “Cinnamon pancakes sound good, right?”

Army mock salutes the man and grins pulling up her sleeves, “yes, Chef!”

And they soon start their regular routine. Of Seokjin giving out instructions to the girl as she follows with complete focus. Remembering Seokjin’s advice to not add the cinnamon in the original batter, because Hoseok likes them plain and Taehyung with strawberries. And Yoongi prefers Blueberry and Jimin prefers whatever Yoongi ate. They usually ate from the same plate, you see.

Namjoon soon drifts away to the living room, with Hoseok and Taehyung following him. Taehyung, with heaving the Jungkook stays behind watching his eldest hyung, sitting on Army’s shoulder instructing her on how much milk to add to the batter. He smiles pleasantly at the blush that rides up her face when Seokjin snuggles closer to her neck, holding onto the chain she is wearing to keep his balance.

Soon the pancakes are ready to be serve and Army turns to the youngest sitting on a bottle of honey. “Jungkook-ah.” She regards him. “Could you go get Yoongi and Jimin Oppa down for breakfast? I’ll round up the rest.”

“I’ll get the rest. You get the those two” Jungkook responded with a disgusted shrug. He jumped down the bottle and dusted his sweat as he mounted his bike that was parked in the open bread box. Declaring over his shoulders, “I won’t be able to eat the pancakes after watching being all sugary in the morning.”

The girl rolled her eyes as she pulled off her apron, letting Seokjin slide down her arms with a blush. “Can Taetae, Joonie and Hobi Oppa to help you set up the table, Oppa?” She asks as she exited the kitchen. Smiling cheerily when Seokjin hollers ‘Okay!’.

As she climbs up the stairs, she makes sure to peek into the living to find Namjoon and Hoseok punching away the maknae’s advances. Ignoring his calls to come over for breakfast, in favor of watching Epik High’s live performance on YouTube. She rolls her eyes but brushes them away; they’ll end up at the table eventually. Taehyung is nowhere in sight, so she assumes he’s already in the kitchen, helping Seokjin out.

Army soon finds herself outside the third bedroom. Yoongi’s bedroom that he shares with Seokjin. On days he chose to sleep, that is. She hesitates before opening the door, however, because the last time she’d opened the door on the two without heed, she’d found them in a very compromising appearance.

Jimin had been pole dancing on her pen which was attached to a penstand, giving a lap dance to Yoongi. The elder was very casually grinding into the boy while seated in her pink power puff girls eraser. Suffice to say, she never let them near her stationary ever again. Or anything she owns, period.

“Oppa~?” She whisper-sings as she steps into the room. Her eyes turning to hearts at the sight of Jimin’s head resting on the small pillow from her watchbox, Yoongi’s cheeks snuggled into the younger boy’s chest.

As Army tiptoes into the room, Jimin eyes her sleepily with one eye open, placing his finger over his mouth and pointing at the still asleep Yoongi. “I’ll bring him down.” He whispers.

The girl simply nods and gestures an okay at the boy, edging back quietly. Watching from the crack of the door how Jimin slowly inches out of Yoongi’s koala grasp on him. Shaking him awake as he peppers kisses into the elder’s hair.

They are just way too cute for her. She huffs pleasantly, making her way back. Breakfast is yet to start.

____________

Just as the summary says:

1. MINI BANGTAN IS SUCH AN ENDEARING CONCEPT!!!

2. Okay. So what inspired me was a post on Tumblr (I think???) That asked for a fanfiction or fanart to be made about Yoongi using your study table as a studio. And… well… yes.

3. I’m as hardcore YoonMin trash! Don’t judge.

4. Seokjin Oppa sitting on my shoulder telling me how much milk to add into a pancake batter while clutching onto my chain for balance!!! Isn’t he amazing!!!!

5. I very much, 10/10, believe Hobi Oppa lives inside an ArmyBomb.

6. Taetae in the morning using bread as a blanket is so aesthetically apt!!!!! I just £÷&!£$,

7. Joonie Oppa is the cutest when he wakes up and is complete shit to the maknae because he is evil.

8. Who can argue that Jungkook would be the weightlifter of the group, carrying heavy cutlery and plates and pots around the kitchen on his back, as Seokjin’s lackey if they were tiny?

9. BTW, since I’m a female so I’m gonna write as as female ARMY. But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe in Male ARMYs. And I shall, someday, write a Male ARMY POV as well.

10. Last note, the actual size of Bangtan in this fic is mostly relational to everyday items. But for reference ya’ll can imagine Jiminie being able to curl into a small Pringle can, while playing hide and seek.

PS: BANGTAN IS COMING BACK WITH A NEW ALBUM, SO I’M BACK WITH A NEW STORY/SERIES!!! Spread this Love, my CUs. Love ya~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~TO BE CONTINUED

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jackandkatetravel · 8 years

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Bagan, Myanmar The overnight trip to Bagan was not the grim affair that the words 'night bus' usually conjure. In fact it was downright decadent. We went with a company called JJ Express who have a sterling reputation for their luxurious buses, and it still surpassed our pretty high expectations. There were large poofy armchairs in place of seats, and the pamphlet tucked behind the chairs sold you the idea of 'flying but on land', which was hammered home by the air hostess uniforms the staff wore and even the little trolley they pushed down the aisle with hot drinks. They did still boot us off the bus at midnight when we stopped for a food break that no one wanted, and our arrival into Bagan was just after 4am, which is a pretty horrible time to be woken up, but worse still when you're in the middle of nowhere surrounded by taxi touts. We sleepily partnered up with another couple to split the taxi fare, and they screwed us over a bit by stopping at the hot air balloon station on the way to town to haggle for a last minute deal while we froze in the taxi alone in the middle of an empty field. They'd already argued their way out of the entry fee to Bagan (where you are charged $20 at a very dubious looking checkpoint) by shouting "I've already paid, this is unlawful, I'm a lawyer" etc. so we were glad to see the back of them when the taxi finally pulled away. Eager not to miss the sunset, where you supposedly see Bagan at its best, we threw our bags in our room at the hostel and rented an e-bike (a silent little electric scooter) to get back out on the road before sunrise. We went straight for Bulethi Temple as it was down as a great one for views, and got there just as the first light was starting to appear. Scores of people were already lined along the top ring of the temple, so we had to fight for space but still got a seat nearish to the top. The views were phenomenal even before the sun appeared - a light covering of mist draped over the green countryside and the sheer number of temples suddenly becomes apparent. They stretch out for miles and miles until all you can make out is their tiny silhouettes amongst the trees. When the sun came up the crowd on the temple let out an audible 'ooooooh', which made us laugh but is probably fair considering the landscape before us. The hot air balloons then began to inflate one by one just west of the rising of sun, drifting over east to fill the sky directly between us and the light. It was very much the quintessential image of Bagan that you see on every guidebook cover, like looking directly at a National Geographic image. Neither of us felt it was tainted by cliché, or the amount of tourists we were sharing it with, it was just amazing, and I can't think of a better sight I've ever seen. The rest of our stay in Bagan started to fall into a pattern of getting up early for the sunset, heading back for breakfast, napping, exploring some temples on the e-bike, watching the sunset and having dinner at one of the many great restaurants. The Dhammayan Gyi was one of our highlights - a labyrinthine 4-sided temple that made us feel like Tomb Raider exploring its narrow stairways and various passages. A couple of the smaller temples were also great to visit as we had them to ourselves, one of which we spent the evening at watching the sunset away from the crowds. A few of the biggest pagodas were absolutely crammed with tourists, surrounded by coaches that had parked up and descended en masse. We opted for one of these on our third night, and the scenes on the west-facing side were really reminiscent of press pits at London Fashion Week - photographers marking up their space for tripods, squashed in next to each other and squabbling over inches of elbow room. But overall I can't say the touristy feel of the whole place diminished our experience of it. The scenery is unrivalled and the independence of the bikes gives you freedom to go explore on your own. The food was largely western but of really great quality, and they even had a Spoon's! The guy that ran it had visited England many moons ago and decided that it was a beacon of food quality which must be replicated back in Myanmar. Which was clearly working well for him as it was heaving with tourists every day, not just for the novelty but for the surprisingly great food. Our hostel, Eden Motel, was pretty dreadful and made even worse by the owner who hacked up phlegm every day due to his betel-nut addiction, and slept on the floor of the foyer every night in a sleeping bag. I had much greater hospitality from a local family who, on seeing me out taking photos in a residential area one morning, invited me into their house and lavished me with food and drinks. The Mum of the house, Wenti, gave me tea and fed me peanuts while we both tried to talk about family and home through sign language for a good twenty minutes. The kids (pictured above) just watched in amazement the whole time and we had a brief game of football afterwards before I left. To fill one more day we went over to the Bagan Archaeological Museum to find out a little more about the history of the temples. It was distinctly mediocre as museums go, providing little in the way of English signage and with most of the artefacts dated as 'Bagan Period', whatever that means. But had a few nice paintings AND it was air conditioned! Some more research via the internet reveals a bit of a mixed view of Bagan. The temples are mostly 11th and 12th Century, when they hastily knocked up around 10,000 of them in devotion to Buddha, but their archaeological status was heavily tainted by shoddy restorations in the 90's when the government made a shambles of the restoring them to improve tourism. Archaeologists were aghast and they were consequently denied UNESCO status because of the destructive chemicals used. A great shame, but not out of character for Myanmar's military rulers.

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buyselfbalancingscooters · 5 years

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e-Drift Electric Scooter

Introduction

The electric scooters are getting its popularity in the world as a mini-adventures source. Hills riding, street racing, and fastest traveling, these electric scooters a plethora of joy. The best thing electric scooters is these are eco friendly and affordable. One can feel like talking to wind while riding on it. The electric scooters are like mini versions of Harley Davidson, which has an iconic flat front while design. The impressive design and power speed can make anyone crazy about an electric scooters. Thus keeping your enjoyment level at the peak, here we presented the “e-drift electric scooter”.

E-Drift Electric Scooter os more than a regular e drift scooter that offers peak performance and is also with the latest technology trends to enhance your purchasing as well as riding experience. One can sit on it and enjoy the ride to your downtown and fill up with thrill. So, without being ado, I assure you that investing in this beautiful e drift scooter is worth it. But before jumping for purchasing, let’s take a gaze at the incredible design of the scooter.

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Design Of e-Drift Electric Scooter

Currently, e drift scooter is the fastest and mini version of Harley and Davidson. The unique power pack design with front flat, the massive wheel makes its look iconic. The e-scooter constitutes a comfortable seat that is ideal for the sitting of two adults. As far as the concern about its color it is available in two unique color variations like electrifying red and matte black. The flat wheel is specially designed for a comfortable ride on hilly terrain. The e-drift electric scooter is bringing a revolution in eco-friendly and fastest electric scooters. The incredibly unique feature can steal the heart in a minute. So, without waiting for a minute check out the specific features of the e-drift electric scooter.

Key Features And Specifications Of The Product

Maximum weight of the product: 150 lbs

The dimension of the scooter: 69˟31˟43 inches

The electric motor of the scooter: 2000 watt

The maximum load that scooter take: Around 350lbs

Distance travel per charge: 40-65 miles

Powerpack battery: 30AH battery, 60 Volt 12, 20

Powerful brakes: Powerpack hydraulic disc brake with the 160mm rotors

Charging time: six hours

Shock absorbance: Yes

Portable charger: Yes

Front LED lights: Yes

Power saver mode: Yes

Anti-theft alarm: Yes

Product description

The e-drift electric scooter constitutes the essential details which are as follows:

Maximum travel distance: The eDrift electric scooter offers a maximum speed of 56 miles per hour in just one charge. Riding without interruption is just ass more joy in life. With front fork suspension and comfortable seat offers long-distance travel with utmost comfort.

The incredible powerful brakes: The eDrift electric scooter constitutes the sturdy hydraulic disc brakes design with 160mm rotors which gives maximum stability and comfort during high speed. The powerpack hydraulic brake system is available in different modes and settings.

Power battery backup: The electric motor powers are of 2000 watt with 60 volts, 12, 20 and also 30-amp battery which gives perfect millage of 56miles in one charge.

Incorporation of LED lights: The e-drift electric scooter comes with rear and back LED lights to enhance your riding experience during night time. Moreover, the headlights shine brighter in the night to avoid any significant issues at night.

Flat front-wheel iconic design: The sturdy flat wheel gives maximum stability and speed during riding. The wheel provides an iconic look to the e-drift electric scooter. Moreover, the wheel with shock absorbers and torque offers the most fabulous suspension to go extra miles during rides. The unique pneumatic puncture-proof tier design seems to be perfect for riding smoothly in the hilly terrain.

Anti-theft alarm: As far as security is concerned of the vehicle, it comes with an Anti-theft alarming design that can activate even someone’s touch to the vehicle. The uniquely designed alarming system provides you with freedom of parking your vehicle in any area without worrying about being stolen by someone.

Maximum stability and weight lifting: The e-drift scooter parts Like shock absorbers, hydraulic breaks system offers maximum security and can be able to lift the weight of about 350 lbs. The comfortable cushion seats also provide stability during riding on hilly terrains so that you can enjoy your comfortable rides without falling and jerks.

Some additional features: In addition to all the above mention features, the e-drift electric scooter is available in speed changing modes that enhance your speed and joy simultaneously. Moreover, The power-saving mode helps in preventing the sudden battery drainage and offers maximum travel in a single battery charge. The e-drift electric scooter is also lace-up with the latest technology and Bluetooth connecting mode to connect your phone with a scooter to enjoy your music while having a ride.

Price of e-drift electric scooter: The cost of the iconic front flat wheel iconic design scooter starts from $1947.

E-drift electric scooter review

The e-drift scooter is having an iconic front flat wheel design and comprises of unique features which every individual who love racing on hilly terrain and ordinary places. It constitutes the 20 Volt 30-amp capacity battery with a powerful motor of 2000 watt provides the maximum speed of 55MPH. The innovative technological design with comfortable seats, LED lights and the hydraulic disc brake system makes this e-drift scooter the center of attraction. The best thing about this electric scooter is it is eco-friendly and avoid fuel consumption.

When we compare it with other electric scooter designs, the e-drift electric scooter iconic design steals the heart. The long and potent battery backup offers breathless rides for hours.

Currently, it is rocking in the market as one of the powerful and innovative electric scooters which give smooth rides and perfect for both hilly and ugly roads. Once you won this e-drift electric scooter, you will find yourself loading with the thrill and adventure from which you never get bored. Moreover, investing in the electric scooter is worth and never felt you down of having this fantastic bike.

Check Out 18 Kick Scooters for Adults

Pros

It has a unique and fresh design

The e-drift electric scooter comes with the most robust motor design which offers a joyful ride for 8 hours

It is one of the fastest electric scooters with unique flat front wheel design

The scooter can be charged in the shortest times period of six to eight hours and offers a maximum speed of 56 miles per hours

The powerful hydraulic disc brakes system provides maximum stability

Front-wheel suspension and in-built cushion seats

It travels a long distance in a single charge and also fitted with LED lights to enhance the night traveling experience

An anti-theft in-built alarm system keeps your vehicle safe.

Cons

The only cons about the beautiful e-drift electric scooter are that it is available in two color variants.

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Conclusion

Now, as you have read enough about the essential features of the e-drift electric scooter, you will be looking forward to eagerly buy this worthy electric scooter and take a ride to the hilly terrain. The electronic scooter loads with plenty of features that will never make you bore of having it. The most robust battery backup helps avoid charging again and again. You can travel long distances with maximum speed in a single charge.

The unique eco-friendly and innovative design free you from the fuel filling, which not only costs you extra but also harms our environment. The best thing that I love about this product is the seat suspension system which is a plus point in this scooter. The seat is comfortable for two adults. Overall, the e-drift electric scooter is worth to have with you, which provides you with ultimate satisfaction.

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