On the coolness scale of non-car vehicles, motorcycles are at the top. Easy Rider, etc. Then comes Vespa-style scooters, and maybe a fixie bike. Farther down are e-bikes, especially the ones with the big trailers. But you have to scroll way down that coolness list to find my favorite: the scooter. So dorky, so ridiculous, so freaking convenient.

According to my Lime app, I've traveled 69.2 miles of electric powered scooting around Seattle, and I know I can't stop. I know they're ugly and they're often an eyesore, but I'm crushing hard on Seattle's rentable electric scooters—even as I'm scared they'll scoot me to my death someday. 

Since 2020, the shareable scooters have become a regular sight in central Seattle. Launched with a pilot program of four vendors and a total of 7,000 pairs of wheels, they quickly provided 1.4 million trips within the first year. While several companies offer the vehicles, Lime is by far the biggest.

The appeal is simple: The scooters require no parking and no pedaling, don't make you sweat like a bike or spew emissions like most cars. Riders don't have to worry about the upfront costs of personal investment of a vehicle, or the maintenance costs of upkeep and charging. For me, living on Capitol Hill, they quickly became the easiest way to make short trips.

Heading uphill to 15th Avenue and don't want to arrive late or sweaty? Scoot it. A back-to-office day but can't deal with downtown parking? Scoot time. And it's hardly because I don't like to walk. Just the opposite: My car stays parked in the garage not just when I roam a few blocks, but even on a jaunt to Climate Pledge or South Lake Union. I adore life on foot, but as a dog owner, nothing's worse than having to take a lengthy walk home without the pup, only to grab the leash and head out on the exact same activity. Zip through errands on a scooter, linger through the fun walks with your beloved pet.

But of course the scooters come with a litany of drawbacks. They're not pretty, parked along sidewalks and tipped over into piles; I'll admit that I often park mine half a block away on return trips. I don't want the sight on my own front stoop. Lime, my scooter of choice, is tied to Uber, a company whose employment practices and taxi takeover inspire a healthy amount of ambivalence in my progressive soul. And while during the pilot period scooter availability was fairly high in the city's three designated equity areas, that percentage plunged in late 2022. 

And oh, the sidewalk shenanigans; while Seattle opted to not legally allow it, in the pilot they found 22 percent of riders reported taking most of their last trips on sidewalks. (For the record, it's allowed when there are no other legit options, but even Seattle Bike Blog calls the rule "very squishy" and "confusing in real life.") When on foot, I curse sidewalk scooter cruisers.

But the behavior stems from scooter's biggest drawback, which isn't even the scooter's fault: that street riding often doesn't feel safe. In a city that struggles with providing sufficient bike infrastructure, the even flimsier scooter feels like a downright death wish next to a 4,300-pound Chevy Silverado. I don't wear a helmet (don't read this part, Mom), mostly because I don't want to carry one around at my destination—a risk I'd honestly never consider on a bike. A lot of riders get hurt, some 11 percent of riders in a survey after the city trial. People have died. It's a heck of a drawback.

But oh, the blessed convenience. I pop up to the co-op more often than I used to, and I actually try restaurants outside my own five-block radius. My dog gets longer walks because I haven't tired myself during the schlep home. I haven't shelled out $2,000 for an electric bike and I don't worry about anything getting stolen. As long as I don't collide with that Silverado,  I will remain a fan.