We are a two scooter family. I ride a 1988 50cc Honda Elite; my wife a 1988 50cc Yamaha Jog. This pleasure can be traced to our wedding trip in 1996. We were staying in a little inn somewhere on the southwestern coast of Costa Rica, sharing our meals at the outdoor bar/restaurant with the monkeys that lived in the trees above the bar. We'd take a sort of taxi down to the beach and sit in the Marlin Bar, which, for some reason, we called 'Marilyn's'.
On one such taxi ride, I noticed a place that rented motor scooters. We stopped and rented one for a day, with me driving and Susan riding behind. Well, that arrangement lasted for a couple of hours before Susan wondered aloud why she didn't have her own scooter, even though she had never driven one. So, we parked at Marilyn's and I sat drinking coffee and watching Susan slowly pilot the scooter along the beach road, disappearing first around the bend heading back to the inn and then, on the way back, disappearing behind some trees that bordered a campground.