Oh, Tangerine, I wish that I
could take you for our first Spring spin.
I'd polish you with turtle wax
to make you glow like new again.

It's been so long, but I confess
this winter I've been truly blue
'cause piled-up snow kept me inside,
prevented me from riding you.

You are not just a chariot
who carries me o'er cobbled street.
No, you're my spiffy stream-lined pal
who transports me in mode elite.

We'll cruise along at half the clip
of bulky Buicks, yellow bus,
but mommies with their strollers full
will pause to smile and wave at us.

You're much too small for freeway jaunts,
yet into town we can commute.
We'll stop to shop at local stores,
cruise farmer's markets for fresh fruit.

Your basket near the handle bars
holds jugs of milk, wrapped sacks of meat
while paper goods will not get wet
in cavern 'neath your leather seat.

Oh, scooter, you deserve an ode
for all I save on gas each year,
but can I praise thee oft enough
for how on trips you've spared my rear?