It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s … Pikachu?

“Pikachu, I choose you!”

No, I am not talking about one of the 649 Pokemon that you can collect. (More if you count the new Pokemon game coming out this fall. And yes, I have collected them all.)

No, I am talking about my brand new Zero S all–electric motorcycle. Against Mr. Waste’s stern and worrisome objections, I am now the owner of a motorbike that runs on pure energy, pumping me with pure adrenaline. He had laid down the law. But the law didn’t win.

“I don’t like the idea of you riding a motorcycle. I don’t want you riding a motorcycle. But I know you’re gonna do it anyway. So if you die, I want everything. You can get one if you get our wills and paperwork in order.”

And so I did. Transfer of Deed Upon Death for the house. Check. Payable Upon Death for the bank accounts. Check. And, thanks to the Colorado Civil Union Act, Mr. Waste pretty much gets everything should I ever have the misfortune of getting run over by anything. Car, steamroller, elephant, ego.

I am a very safe and defensive rider. I always wear protection (both on and off the road). I’ve been riding scooters for years now and have the experience under my helmet as well.

So what is it like riding an all–electric bike? Pure joy. Pure energy. Pure Love. Sounds like a dance song from the ’80s. I never thought I would ride anything I loved more than my scooter. But my new bike, named Pikachu after the all-electric Pokemon, is just that. It’s nimble. It’s fun. It’s stealthy. And I never have to stop and pump gas.

My commute from Gaypleton to the Tech Center is a breeze. And the breeze is all I hear on my oh-so-quiet bike. I use a quarter of the charge for the round trip, leaving me lots of juice to pick up juice and other groceries on the way home.

The bike is not completely silent. It sounds like a pod racer from Star Wars or the light cycle from Tron. I feel like a character from a sci-fi movie, riding in on the future.

Some people think the quiet of the bike is a safety concern. Loud pipes save lives and all that. I have given it much consideration and realize it’s not sound that is the problem. It’s visibility. After an accident, no one says, “I never heard the bike.” It’s always “I never saw it. It came out of nowhere.”

So I have reflective decals on the bike (in the shape of lightning bolts of course), wear a white helmet, and wear reflective clothing. Combined with the bright yellow of the bike I am as visible as I can be.

So if you see a silent flash of yellow topped with a neon green wig passing you on the road, it’s just your local drag queen on her electric pony. Two zaps up and a zoom.