Additionally, Skip’s terms of service list a bunch of prohibited activities, like taking pictures of other users without their permission and being racist (seriously, read ‘em), but don’t mention anything about riding a scooter until its batteries die as a means of escaping society.
Outside the area is a purple-colored no-man’s land, free of scooters, presumably ravaged by violent gangs with poor mobility. When I crossed into this lawless territory, I worried that my scooter would shut off and the whole plan would sputter to a stop, leaving me at the mercy of the hordes and their perverse whims.
Beyond the bridge, the small screen on the scooter indicated that I had about 50 percent battery left.
Best of all, Skip’s rate schedule indicates that they “may charge you a drop off charge equal to $25. 00 for for [sic] each drop or ended ride outside of the service territory area. ” This seemed like a totally reasonable fee to maybe pay.
If they signed up to be a scooter charger, it’s theoretically possible to reach a kind of scooter rental equilibrium, in which the costs of operation are negated by the payments from recharging. A clean, perfect cycle.
Most scooter batteries last for about 15 miles, though Skip’s website claims its devices have a range of 30 miles.
I rolled the scooter off the hiking path, onto a flat vista overlooking the Pacific Ocean.