The Bath Scooter Massacre: A Tale of Terror, Trucks, and Two-Wheeled Treachery
Great news, Plymouth! Beryl e-scooters are officially heading our way. Truly, how cool is that? Now, before you all rush out to embrace this triumph of modern, eco-friendly transit, allow me to share a cautionary tale from 2021. A tale that proves that while the future is electric, it is also out to get me.
It all started in Bath—my absolute favourite UK city—during a lovely little getaway with my wife, Liz. There they were, lined up right outside Bath railway station: shiny, futuristic, and seemingly innocent.
The onboarding process was deceptively simple. Wave a credit card, skim a few sentences of digital instructions, and boom—you are a certified urban commuter. It was way too easy. So easy, in fact, that I completely failed to register minor details like “wear a helmet,” “do not ride on the pavement,” or “prepare for imminent humiliation.”
The Ascent of Doom
I hopped on, a shade nervous (to say the least), and set off. Forgetting every single rule I’d allegedly just read, I immediately mounted the pavement and headed towards Widcombe Hill. For the uninitiated, Widcombe Hill is not so much a slope as it is a vertical cliff face masquerading as a road.
I was bravely tailing a truck up the incline when, without a shred of warning, the scooter just… conked out. The truck kept going. I did not.
As it turns out, the scooter’s built-in GPS had decided I had crossed an invisible line into the “Auto-Stop Zone of Despair.” There I was: hot, sweaty, deeply frustrated, and muttering a frantic mantra of “Never again, never again” to the absolute bewilderment of passing pedestrians.
The Great Pavement Escape
Defeated, I had to coax the machine back down towards the station just to get the GPS to let me start the bloody thing up again. By the time it whirred back to life, I was already utterly knackered and stressed.
Did I learn my lesson and stick to the road? Of course not.
Panicked, I retreated right back onto the pavement. Big mistake. Huge. Suddenly, the good citizens of Bath were yelling at me. I was rolling along, genuinely bewildered, wondering, “Why is everyone in Somerset so incredibly angry today?”
By the time I finally managed to dump the mechanical beast and stagger back to Liz, I was a shell of a man. I was completely strung out, visibly shaking, and blabbing incoherently about GPS geofencing, angry pedestrians, and the sheer treachery of two wheels. Liz took one look at my sweaty, agitated face and knew instantly that my glamorous eco-adventure had been a total disaster. We left the scene with me still muttering a shaky “never, ever again” into the wind.
Plymouth, Beware…
And yet, here we are. The Beryl scooters are coming to Plymouth. Honestly, it could be a huge success for the city.
And despite the trauma, the shouting, and the sweat… I will doubtless have another go. See you on the Hoe—ideally, look out for me, because I still haven’t bought a helmet.
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