It’s me again, the girl who wrote in a letter a little more than year ago about her scooter getting stolen [“What Scoots Around Comes Around,” May 24, 2011 Xpress]. Well, guess what? Scooter number two was stolen from my apartment last weekend. A beautiful little red one. I had even named him Steven Johnny Rocket.
I live in one of the very last apartment buildings in our "safe" Haw Creek complex. Someone knew it was there. Someone didn’t care that it was my only source of transportation. Someone didn’t know that I already had one scooter stolen from me already. Someone walked up to my apartment in the middle of the night and rolled away my freedom in a matter of seconds.
Asheville is a small town. I know most of the people in this community have seen me walking all over the sidewalks and streets. I’m not homeless. I’m not poor. I’m not a criminal. I don’t feel sorry for myself that this keeps happening to me. But I do feel sorry for whoever these people are who are going around stealing scooters. Shame on you. Luckily, I have a good support system that consists of an amazing girlfriend, a father who is willing to help whenever he can and coworkers who always make sure I have a ride home.
I know it may seem like such a small deal in the grand scheme of things that can happen to a human being in this lifetime. But when you work hard for something and it gets taken away from you, it feels so violating. And I know I’m not the only victim of this poop of a tragedy. Tons of scooters are stolen on a daily basis around here. When will it be safe to ever own one? Not to mention, the police here are about as helpful as two teets on a bull. However, like last year, I will maintain my positive attitude and keep my head up. Not everyone in this world is bad. Just yesterday on my walk to work, the garbage truck guy stopped to ask me if I needed some cold water. There just might be hope yet for us all.
— Kelly Mac