My dad always says that when the world ends, my 2003 Honda Element will be there with the cockroaches. But honestly, I think that there will be a third thing sitting next to my puke orange box car and the roaches: Lime scooters. Lime scooters were founded in San Francisco in 2017, and ever since, they have become either hated or loved by the world.
I fall firmly in the “hated” part of the world. Not because I’m some kind of anti-innovation, anti-green-energy curmudgeon, but because Lime scooters have turned sidewalks into demolition derbies and bike lanes into lawless free-for-alls.
They lie across curbs like drunks at a fraternity party, waiting for some poor soul to trip over them. They zip down crowded streets piloted by people who look like they’ve never ridden anything more dangerous than a desk chair.
Sure, they’re marketed as the sustainable future of urban transportation. But what I see is a buzzing plague of tiny green cockroaches that multiply overnight, chewing up public space and spitting out chaos. And while I, myself, have never ridden one of them — because I don’t feel like hitting a curb and flying — I can actually see how they’re convenient. But so is a bottle of vodka, and that doesn’t mean it’s good for you.
And it’s not cheap either, from the reported fixed cost just to unlock the scooter (about $1) to the per-minute rate (of ¢35). And don’t get me started on how these things look when abandoned by a bunch of “alpha males” who can barely make the height requirement for Tunetown in Disneyland. A cluster of them outside a bar at 2 a.m. is less “eco-friendly mobility revolution” and more “post-apocalyptic yard sale.” Half are tipped over, one’s flashing a low-battery light like it’s dying in agony (because it is).
Meanwhile, cities everywhere pretend like it’s a net good, cleaner air and less traffic. But all I see is a generation of scooter cowboys tearing through red lights, weaving in front of buses, and parking their rides in the middle of crosswalks like they’re staging some kind of toddler rebellion against basic order itself. At least my Element, for all its boxy ugliness, stays put where I park it. You won’t trip over it walking to class. Lime scooters, on the other hand, have become the bratty younger sibling of public transit: too quiet to hear coming, reckless in execution, and always someone else’s problem to clean up.
As a journalist and as a human, it is my responsibility to come to the defense of the green monstrosities. Because the truth is, the scooters themselves aren’t the real villains here, it’s the people riding them.
I mean, think about it. A scooter doesn’t decide to barrel down a crowded sidewalk at 20 mph. A scooter doesn’t choose to block a crosswalk, tip itself over, or cut across traffic like it’s auditioning for “Fast & Furious.” Humans do that. And if history has shown us anything, it’s that humans will find a way to ruin literally anything designed for convenience.
Blaming Lime scooters for chaos is like blaming forks for obesity or blaming cars for bad drivers. The scooter is just a tool. The problem is Chad who’s 5 ‘4 with more DUIs than I do fingers likes to weave down the street with one AirPod in, thinking he’s invincible and I have to swerve to not hit him. However, in 2024, the Colorado Court of Appeals decided that scooter companies are not responsible for injuries caused by their users. So, listen here, Chad, if you hit someone, it’s all you boo.
Maybe the apocalypse isn’t happening anytime soon. Or maybe, with the chaos happening worldwide, we’re already face-first in it and just too busy doomscrolling to notice. But if there is one thing certain, it’s that Lime scooters will still be here, scattered across the sidewalk, blinking like radioactive cicadas. Not because they’re indestructible, but because people keep using them like toys instead of transit.
The truth is, technology isn’t the enemy. It’s our own inability to use it responsibly. If every Lime rider obeyed traffic laws, parked neatly, and didn’t treat Pearl Street and the Hill like their personal Mario Kart course, maybe I wouldn’t be writing this manifesto against them.
But here we are. Scooters don’t lack common sense, the people do. Because in the end, when the cockroaches, my Honda Element, and the scooters are all that’s left, it won’t be the machines that did us in. It’ll be us.
