Harrisonburg's racer cult has a new member. It maxes out at about 45mph and only fatigues if it's tank hasn't got a drop of combustible solution in it. JB got a 49cc moto-scooter. This means all the meandering, rolling rides through the valley that make one yearn for the ride to be over are now a bit more tolerable. Now all we have to do is pool enough cash together for a gallon or two of petrol and convince a competent and sober friend to drive. That shouldn't be too hard considering it's fun as shit and the pilot has ultimate control over the suffering of the rider(s) without feeling the pain himself; pure and unadulterated satisfaction. From the pilot's seat, a quick look in the rear view mirror reveals the damage they've done. It only takes a micro twist of the throttle to dramatically affect the facial expressions of the rider. This is not just a torture device, of course. The speed factor is big, as it replicates the feel of a race and forces one to react quickly.
Now anyone, regardless of where they fall on spectrum of wattage output vs. obesity status, Kilo-joule efficiency, and leg-speed can be the dropper instead of the dropped. Dan Oats is our committed and loyal draconian throttle twister until after the Tour de Burg in July. After that, we'll be on the prowl for a new driver.