The morning before my cousin's wedding, my uncle rented three Segway scooters and brought the whole family down to the farmer's market in Portland to see if we could kill some pedestrians. This is what engineers do instead of golf, I guess.
The guy from Segway who was supposed to make sure we didn't drive into the river or make off with the scooters was a typical laid back Oregonian post-hippie guy. He had followed us on a bicycle and made suggestions like, "try not to run over that baby" and asked questions like, "when you stop a car, do you stick your foot out and drag it along the road to slow down?" To which I replied, "Maybe." I was probably the teensiest bit hostile about it.
The best part though happened right at the beginning. Laid back post-hippie guy gave us our helmets and turned on the scooters and said, "Don't worry. No one has ever crashed as long as I've been doing this." I said, "Oh, man. You haven't met the Hubleys yet."
"I'm sure you'll be fine," he said. Whereupon, my aunt Betty put on her helmet, got on her scooter, and scooted exactly 47 feet before running smack into a telephone pole. At least her arm wasn't actually broken. She did look kinda funny though, all bandaged up at the wedding.
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