Margot Fernandez is well along on the road to discoveries.

Health Care
Sierra Tucson
Eating Disorders Program Coordinator Trades/Construction
RANCHO RESORT
MAINTANANCE POSITION Health Care
Dependable Health Services
Physical Therapists Finance and Accounting
Charles E. Gillman Company
Accounting Specialist Mechanical
Komatsu Equipment Co
Resident Field Mechanic Administrative & Professional
Tucson Urban League
CEO/President Construction
West-Press
Printing

It's 6 a.m. on a chilly August morning when I open my garage door and wheel my motor scooter into the driveway of my South Side home. I make final adjustments to my jacket, gloves and helmet and push off for the first time. I have just learned to ride this scooter. Ahead of me is a 40-minute drive to Tucson's Northwest industrial area.

I experience sights and sounds that I've never known before as I buzz along Euclid, passing through the university area in the darkness. I realize that a restaurant is nearby because I smell someone cooking bacon. Then the aroma of fresh bread surrounds me, and then it too is gone. Next thing I know, I'm awash in the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. Three blocks later, someone is grilling peppers!

Normally, as I drive in a car, I think about other things. But on la moto I drive in the present. I have to watch the road and the traffic more carefully than ever before. As I make my way through the darkness, I'm usually alone. I may see a cluster of white headlights behind me, and then I'm in the midst of moving vehicles, but they pass me soon enough and I find myself looking at a swarm of red taillights as I bring up the rear once again.

I tend to cross paths with five to 20 riders every early morning. Bicycles whiz by in silence, while motorcyclists' engines make a much more impressive zoom than I do on the moto. On this day I see 12 riders by the time I get to work.

I wonder why I see so few women on cycles. Among women of my age, I seem to be riding alone. Is the scooter more dangerous than I realize? Am I taking my life in my hands every time I ride? Or are we are so accustomed to cars that we don't think outside the box?

How did a middle-age hippie like me end up on a motor scooter? I lost patience with soaring gas prices and decided to rethink the basic vehicle. A scooter proved to be both affordable and economical. One gallon of gas fills the tank and takes me a hundred miles.

So a couple of weeks later I began riding to and from my job on my new scooter. In the next few weeks I got a look at the city in the early morning and saw an intimate moving portrait of Tucson. Those early rides are glimpses of life that I usually don't encounter. If I had been driving, I would have been in the usual cocoon of warmed air and muted sound. I would have missed it all.

By now I have planned the safest route between work and home. If I go putt-putting along the frontage roads next to Interstate 10, it seems to bear some comparison to my stage of life. The interstate traffic rushes by as I roll along, working at something I like.

I have learned a lot by riding through the city. I have also learned that I like to ride! I don't want to stop, even if it's raining or too cold. I ride everywhere now unless I have to carry packages.

I did ditch once — right in front of my husband. He had a conniption when I landed facedown on a median strip. Fortunately, I was in a parking lot, but I ended up with scratches, bumps and one ugly bruise. That was months ago; now I observe all the safety rules and precautions.

I get a comment once in a while. Men on motorcycles tend to grin at me — in amusement I hope, since the moto is almost a toy compared to their machines. Once I was passed by a small pickup truck with four Latino men in the back. They grinned, too, and one of them called to me, "Mamita, comprate un carro, por favor!" (Mom, get a car, please!). I burst out laughing, and we had a little cultural exchange on Sixth Avenue.

Another day a van was next to me at a stoplight. One little boy looked out of the window and said, "Nice moto!"

Yes, it's a nice moto. I got a lot more than I bargained for when I bought it last summer.

Expectations

A personal perspective on transportation