When I bought my scooter here in Taipei (a used 150cc Attila), I didn’t know the first thing about them. I’d ridden a scooter before, of course. I’d ridden a motorcycle, too. I just didn’t know anything about them in Taiwan.

One of the first things I learned was what kind of gas to put in it. I don’t really know what the various types of gas are or what their names mean, but I learned that my scooter preferred 95 gas and that was all I needed to know. There are usually three nozzles at the gas station. One nozzle has the number 95 above it. And that’s my gas.

I also learned that gas stations usually have a scooter-only lane. Cars go to one set of pumps, and scooters often go to an entirely different set of pumps. I don’t know that they take different gas. Scooters and cars are just different sizes and move in different ways, and it’s best to keep them separated.

There is almost always a line-up of scooters when I go to get gas. They aren’t huge line-ups – perhaps ten scooters in each line – but I end up with enough time to absorb the scene as I wait my turn. Most people turn off their engines. This means we all have to push our scooters forward with our feet, like we’ve all suddenly become three-year-olds riding our first plastic toys with wheels.

The gas tank inlet is in different places on different scooters. Some are practically on the front dashboard of the scooter beneath the dials and gauges. Some are underneath the seat, so the driver has to get off the scooter and raise the seat for the attendant to add any gas. I assume the inlet is placed there for security reasons, since being underneath the seat it is harder to access. The inlet on my scooter is on the body of the scooter at the back on the left side. It’s a pretty convenient spot, since I can just reach around with my keys and unlock it without getting off the scooter or having to move too much.

One problem with these scooters is that they tend to have small tanks, which means that you are filling them up more frequently than you’d like. A bigger problem comes when, as in my case, your gas gauge is broken, and you have trouble telling when you are about to run out of gas. Most people end up wanting the attendants to put in as much gas as possible. This can involve all kinds of gymnastics. If the attendant simply sticks in the nozzle and lets the gas flow at high speed until the first click, you’re not getting a full tank. To get a full tank, you have to encourage the attendant to keep pouring in more and more gas until you reach the very top. You also learn how to put your weight on the scooter to lean it in the right direction so that the tank fills right up to the maximum.

I always try to get as much gas as possible, but you have to really encourage your attendant to do that. You’d think they’d want to put in and therefore sell as much gas as possible. But if they waste time carefully filling your tank to the top, it takes longer, and they can’t run as many scooters through per hour as they otherwise could. Once the tank is full to the brim, however, there emerges another problem. The gas can slosh out. There are lots of eager customers behind you, and scooter etiquette dictates that you move your scooter forward to make room for the next person as soon as you are finished. If you fiddle with your gas cap, people get impatient. So you push your scooter forward with your feet, and suddenly the gas is spouting out of your tank and splashing all over the side of your scooter.

I move my scooter forward as gently as possible to make room for the next customer. Then I put the gas cap back, which is a fidgety and difficult process, and wait for my receipt and change. Then I have one more thing to do. I have to make a note of the odometer reading. I generally type it into a text message on my phone and save it as a draft message. I do this because of the broken gas gauge. I have to keep an eye on how many kilometers I’ve driven in order to know when to fill my tank next.

It’s a good system, but occasionally I’ve lost track of how far I’ve driven. Most times, I end up getting gas in time. Twice, however, I’ve run out. The first time it was quite late at night, and I was driving quite fast down Nanjing in still heavy traffic. The scooter started sputtering and losing speed, and then suddenly, the engine cut out completely. I was surprised at how quickly the scooter slowed down. On a bicycle when you stop pedaling, you coast at the same speed for a long time and you lose speed gradually. It’s a very different thing on a scooter. One second I was racing along. The next, I was almost at a dead stop and waving frantically at the people behind to watch out as I moved toward the curb.

I noticed an interesting psychology to running out of gas. Mentally, I was already home. The drive there on my scooter was just a formality, something that I had to get out of the way. Running out of gas, therefore, came as quite a shock. I was thrown out of this mental state where I was already at home and relaxing. It was like waking up. I was suddenly at the side of the road looking around and thinking, “Now what?”

My first instinct was to just park the scooter, leave it there, and take a taxi home. I could deal with getting gas the next day. I think I wanted to do that because I resented the fact that my evening had been disrupted. I wanted to get home as scheduled and then deal with it the next day. Then I realized that it made no difference. I wasn’t rushing home for any particular reason. So I bit the bullet and started pushing the scooter to the nearest gas station.

The nearest gas station that I was aware of was a kilometer and a half away, and I was pretty hot and sweaty by the time I got there. It was all a small adventure and no big deal.

The second time I ran out of gas was this week, and it wasn’t nearly as much fun. For one thing, I ran out of gas on my way to work in the morning. I was already thinking about the cappuccino I get every morning from the downstairs Family Mart. Suddenly, the scooter was lurching and sputtering and I thought, “Oh, no. Not again.” I waved my arms at the hundreds of scooters and cars bearing down on me from the rear and carefully made my way over to the side of Nanjing once more.

I’d just wrestled my scooter out of its parking spot near my apartment. Now I had to push my scooter along Nanjing in rush hour traffic and find another one. It wasn’t easy, but I found one. Then I waved down a taxi and hot and sweaty and bothered, made my way to work.

During my lunch hour, I popped into my favorite little hardware store and got a 2-liter plastic gas can for NT$35. It wasn’t high quality, but it would do the trick. I got a kick out of standing in line at the gas station that evening. I stood behind the last scooter and then walked forward in the line. I made sure my little gas can was visible so people wouldn’t think that I was completely out of my mind – like I was riding an invisible scooter or something.

I hopped in a taxi with my gas can full of gas (hidden inside my knapsack), and realized suddenly that I had no exact idea where my scooter was parked. I had made a mental note of it in the morning, but that note got mislaid amongst my many burnt-out neurons. I walked up and down Nanjing for over an hour getting more and more annoyed. I ended up walking past the same “massage” parlor type hotel four times. A gaggle of young women were standing in the lobby in full view to entice customers. After my third pass by the hotel, I was pretty sure they pegged me for one of those guys who keep walking past trying to get up the courage to go in. On my fourth pass, I kept my eyes firmly on the sidewalk to avoid making eye contact. I’m pretty sure they were giggling at me.

I also passed the Ali Baba Indian food restaurant four times. A young fellow was outside handing out pamphlets. I thought that after my first pamphlet, he would recognize me and not try to give me another one. I guess I’m not that memorable. He tried to give me a pamphlet each time. I waved him off with the first pamphlet still in my hand. Next time, he thrust another pamphlet in my face.

I was very glad to finally stumble across my scooter not more than a block or three from my home. I had no memory of being so close to home when I ran out of gas. My little gas can wasn’t exactly suited to the task at hand, and I seemed to get more gas on the ground, on my pantlegs, and on my shoes than in the gas tank, but enough got in that I could start the scooter and get home. It was two hours later than I normally got home, but I was home. I think I will keep a closer eye on my odometer in the future. Or maybe it’s time to get that gas gauge fixed.

 

Tags: Ali Baba Indian, Family Mart, scooter, Taipei