New Years Eve 2008

Remember the days back before slap bands had been banned and when push pops made your fingers sticky. When Uno was king and Super Mario an obsession. Those were the days I remember running down to the local deli to buy 'joker' icecreams and fluffy pink sugary clouds in the middle of a hot summery day. Barefoot as I always was (and usually still am) I would have to scout ahead for the next shady place shaded by a car parked along the roadside, or a rubbish can on the footpath. I would tackle each section of hot bitumen with skill, finesse and as much speed as my little legs could muster. If my next chosen resting place was further than I had judged, and the hot tar of the road began to burn my tootsies, I would progress to the tip toe hoppy jump walk, which is known well to those skilled in hot bitumen crossings. As the summer progressed, as well as developing protective calluses on the soles of my feet, my skill had progressed to the point where no deli was too much of a task for me to get to. Even the one surrounded my a huge carpark with no trees and absolute miles of burning concrete.

Now fast forward to the last day of 2008. Although my habit of wearing no shoes continues, the amount of time I get to spend on bitumen has decreased to almost nothing. Work, friends, spending too much time with my computer. All these factors have contributed to my now woosy feet with no heat protecting calluses anywhere to be seen. I hadn't realised the extent of the woosification of my feet until today.

I had been borrowing a car for a few days and the time had come for me to return the car and jump back on my scooter to continue my reign as Scooter Queen. I jumped into the car and drove off, realising only once I had reached my destination, that I had forgotten to wear shoes. Now under normal circumstances a lack of shoes is no big deal to me. I frequent the shops with no shoes, friends and family's houses, movie theatres and at my most boganish even the occasional pub. But when it comes to having to ride my scooter for 40 minutes on major highways, my shoes are almost like a security blanket and visions of bloodied feet flashed in front of my eyes. Unable to do anything to solve my predicament short of killing a roaming cat to make myself some make-shift pussy boots, I jumped onto my scooter barefoot and fancy free and began the journey home.

Once on my scooter, another problem had arisen. I was wearing a pair of fairly short demin shorts and once straddling the seat my shorts were hitched up so high to the point where I was unsure if I still wore shorts or if i had forgotten to actually dress myself this morning and was currently in public wearing only my knickers. Nice. At least i would give people something to talk about tonight over glasses of New Year's champagne "Now you should have seen this crazy lass scooting down leach highway in a pair of knickers and no shoes!" I was heartened by my ability to bring smiles to random people's faces.

So here I was scooting away, legs, feet and toes getting a damn good tan, when I proceeded to get every single bloody red light. I slowed at each set of lights, praying that they would turn green before I would have to come to a stand still and put my poor little toes on the hot hot road, but alas at every set I had to place my feet on the ground or find myself lying on the road with a 100kg scooter lying on top me and and me most probably crying and swearing.....in a foreign language....most probably elvish. As my weakened feet touched the ground I again was forced to play games to save myself from 3rd degree burns. All my time spent running to the deli as a child was now coming in handy. Who would have thought. I bounced from right toe to left toe, having to quicken my bouncing as the road became hotter and the layers of skin on my feet thinner. The sheer craziness of my situation brought a smile to my face, but the images of what my legs and feet would look like it I fell onto the bitumen at 70km/hr quickly dissolved any humour I was feeling.

To top things off I swear that I was being followed by a white van. I came to the conclusion that the man in the van was following me to check if I really was wearing only knickers on my scooter, as from behind I can only imagine what it would have looked like everytime I brought my legs down and no pants or shorts could be seen from behind.

I somehow managed to make it home and my invincibility coursed through my veins like a drug. I decided that next time I would ride naked....on the freeway.....with a blindfold