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My Pink Razor

I can honestly say I use a pink razor every morning. It doesn’t diminish my male pride at all to admit that. In fact, it’s great fun. To be completely honest, however, I have to admit that I only use the pink razor when nobody is watching except the squirrels.

And that the razor in question is a Razor Scooter that technically belongs to my daughters.

Since the start of school year, we’ve developed the morning ritual of raising the garage door and the girls ride the scooter down our rather lengthy driveway. Then I bring it back up to the house. They ride two different buses separated by a fair bit of time, so this requires two trips.

Watching them ride down on the scooter has always stirred envy in me. Why don’t I have a scooter? I want to ride a scooter! One day I got on it. The squirrels stilled in admiration. It’s true! I felt the wind rushing through my hair. Or I would have if I had any hair, but I still had the admiration of the squirrels, and that is not nothing.

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