Member-only story
The Highway Gator
A Scooter Saga
Dylan knew it was a bad idea. But, then again, most fourteen-year-olds aren’t really known for making good decisions.
The electric scooter wobbled under him as he zipped down the busy Orlando highway heading towards Altamonte Springs, weaving in and out of the honking cars. His mom had grounded him, but she hadn’t hidden the scooter charger well enough. So here he was, flying down the road like some kind of suburban daredevil, dodging potholes and cars, and regretting every life choice that led him here.
Then he saw it.
At first, Dylan thought it was just roadkill. A tire? A crumpled-up tarp? But no — when it moved, he saw the thick, scaly tail, the wide, prehistoric jaws. An alligator. Just laying on the roadway, half in the right hand lane and half in the right shoulder in front of him.
Traffic screeched to a halt around it. Horns blared. A truck driver shouted something unintelligible. Dylan barely had time to react before he was too close, too fast. He yanked the handlebars, the scooter skidding sideways. The back wheel clipped the gator’s tail, and Dylan went flying.
He landed hard on the pavement, scraping his palms raw. The gator didn’t flinch. It just blinked at him, utterly unimpressed, as if to say, You, sir, are an idiot.
