Faster than a speeding drunk

PETER BUFFA

There hasn’t been a new one since 1664. And there hasn’t been a good

one since 1967. Ideas, that is. But this could be your lucky day,

sailor.

Do you worry about drinking and driving, or more importantly,

drinking and not driving? You should. Alcohol and gasoline do not

mix, as if you didn’t know that. Not only do they taste awful

together, but they are extremely dangerous.

But let me be frank, even if my name isn’t. For those of us who

are old enough to wrinkle, who among us has never, ever gotten behind

the wheel when we shouldn’t have? Raise your hand. If you drink, and

you drive, and you have your hand up, I say you are full of

horsefeathers, and as any cowpoke can tell you, horses do not have

feathers.

Fortunately, by now, most of us have gotten the message. Exactly

how much is too much is a decision we all have to make. But at those

times when the fun is done and so are you, what to do about it can be

a puzzle.

Designated driver? Perfect, if you have one. Cab? Good choice,

assuming you can get back to the festival site tomorrow morning to

get your car. But what if you could get both you and your motorcar

back to your hacienda safely and soundly?

You can, if you know the right people.

“The right people,” in this case, is a fellow named Hugh Finlay,

who comes to the Newport-Mesa by way of the Emerald Isle, which is

near Ireland.

By day, Hugh is a sales associate at Neiman-Marcus, which is near

Fashion Island. But when the sun drops below the horizon, Hugh slips

into a men’s fitting room at Neiman’s and steps out seconds later as

Scooter Man -- founder and proprietor of Pacific Safe Home -- a

company that remembers where you live when you can’t.

Pay attention. This is very cool. Let’s say the party’s over or

the dinner’s done, and you realize that you shouldn’t be anywhere

near a steering wheel, least of all behind one. Just call Pacific

Safe Home from anywhere in Newport Beach or Costa Mesa, and in about

20 minutes, a uniformed driver will show up on a compact motor

scooter, take off his helmet, stick out his hand and say, “Keys,

please.” He will then drive you home in your very own car, give your

keys back when you are safely inside your door and say “Thank you ...

and good night.” You can also call ahead and arrange for a driver to

show up at an appointed time and place.

The cost? It’s almost too cheap to mention, but I will -- 30

bucks, plus tip, and they even take credit cards.

Is it worth it? Let’s see. Not killing yourself or anyone else or

having your life turned upside down by a DUI ... versus $30. Let me

think. Yeah, I’d have to go with the 30 bucks.

“But wait,” you say, “what happened to the scooter?” Aha, I say.

Now you have found the essence, the key -- the gestalt, if you’re a

Kafka fan -- of the whole operation. This is not your father’s

scooter, and that’s assuming your father even had a scooter. Hugh’s

highly designated drivers use one-of-a-kind mini-bikes that fold up

in seconds like a Swiss Army knife with wheels. The bikes, made by a

Florida company called Di Blasi, are street legal and registered with

the DMVRLL (Department of Motor Vehicles & Really Long Lines.)

As you get in your car, which can be interesting, the driver folds

up his bike, slips it into a tote bag, and puts it in your trunk, or

cargo compartment if you are of the SUV persuasion. And talk about

thinking of everything. A fuel cut-off switch on the bike eliminates

smelly gas fumes in your trunk. Back at Chez Vous, the driver pulls

his Di Blasi out of the bag, gives it a good shake, and “poof” --

instant scooter. He slips on his helmet, waves goodbye and disappears

down the road to find the next set of revelers, who can be found at

some of the nicest places, I might add.

You can glimpse Hugh’s drivers putt-putting up to the door at the

Cannery, Fleming’s, the Ritz, French 75, Bayside, and the Quiet

Woman, to name just a few.

So where did the idea for all this come from? It came from Dublin,

of all places, which is a fine place for both ideas and people,

although a little dicey on weather. A few years ago, something

interesting happened at a 40th anniversary bash for Hugh’s parents at

a place called the Barge Inn on Dublin’s Charlemont Street. When the

Guinness was gone and the Caffrey’s was capped and the Finlays made

their way to the parking lot, three young men on scooters arrived,

folded up their bikes, tossed them in the various Finlay vehicles and

had everyone back home faster than you could say “fast,” which is

fast.

A giant light bulb appeared over Hugh’s head, which struck his

relatives as odd, and the rest, as they say, is the rest, and Pacific

Safe Home was born.

By the way, if you’ve seen the latest TV commercial for Mayor

Gary’s “Skosh Monahan’s,” the young Irish fellow in the opening scene

is none other than Hugh Finlay. It is a small world, no?

Thus ends the saga of Hugh Finlay, the Scooter Man. The next time

you’re worried about that ride home, long or short, don’t be. Just

call this number -- (949) 400-5126 -- and say, “Is Hugh there?” They

may not think much of your grammar, but they’ll be there within

minutes.

I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs

Sundays. He may be reached by e-mail at ptrb4@aol.com.