My little Segway

A couple of weeks ago, we spent three days in eastern Maryland. The trip was notable for a few reasons:

1. K planned it;
and,
2. It didn't suck.
(It wasn't actually his fault that the "America's Best Value Inn" in Cambridge, MD was scary-decrepit. The one we stayed in during our C&O canal bike trip in western Maryland was quite charming.)

The trip was also notable for where, precisely, K got a tick lodged, but I'm not allowed to talk about that.

Anyhoo, on the way back into town, we stopped in Annapolis and took part in a two-hour Segway tour. I had anxiety dreams about this the night before, quite convinced that I'd be the first person in their history not to be able to figure out how to ride the thing, but it turned out to be a natural fit for me -- unlike K, who managed to get thrown from his steed as soon as they took us out of "beginner" mode after the first hour.

The tour itself consisted of a painfully canned recitation of a few factual-ish nuggets by a terribly enthusiastic twentysomething. K later informed me that any supplied date should be treated as plus or minus 50 years -- if you saw "Slumdog Millionaire," think of the Taj Mahal scenes, and you'll have the general idea. When the other couple in our group left after the first hour and we found ourselves in a private tour, our mouseketeer gave up any pretense of giving us information, de-hobbled our chargers, and let us zoom around the side streets on our own. I didn't complain. I mean, it was unfortunate, because the whole reason I did the tour in Annapolis instead of DC was to get the added bonus of learning something about Annapolis, and that didn't happen. However, the historical tour is, in the end, a thin pretext to be able to spend a couple hours with a Segway. Trust me.

These things are so cool. Forget the implication of dorkiness from their recurring role in Arrested Development. Forget their association with TSA in airports. In their unnervingly personalized responsiveness and the weird symbiosis into which they start to entrain from the moment you mount them, these things are the closest you'll ever come to horseback riding on two wheels. Segways are a blast.

Sort of.

The top speed of a Segway is 12 mph, after which it literally begins to push back, in a particularly annoying nannylike manner. I can't imagine why they've done this, because the subjective difference -- I know this from biking -- between 12 and 15 or 16 mph is immense. It's the difference between briskly efficient and wheeeee.

Also, the range of these beasts is pathetic. A scant 20 miles or so, and they need to park by the plug overnight.

I tell you these damning things because I really, really, really want to get one.

I mean, my return commute (K usually drops me off in the mornings) consists of a 12-minute walk, a five to ten minute wait, and a 20-minute-or-so bus ride. If I got one of these, I could park it in the bike section of my office garage -- at least until they noticed and yelled at me -- and save myself approximately 20 minutes. A day. That's worth $5800 ($2800 on eBay), right?

Ok, look: I know it's not. But one thing I admit I'm starting to do is look at houses that are in public transit dead zones that I'd previously ruled off-limits because I couldn't figure out how I'd get to work. And if I can save 30K by getting an equivalent house in a less-popular area (or just: by actually being able to finally get a house; my latest offer referenced in my last post was outbid by one of the nine other offers they received), then surely that's worth the comparatively modest sum to get a Segway, right? I mean, at least until it rains or snows and I can't figure out how to get to work?

How about this, then: think of how much I'd save on hay and stabling and vet bills!