The scooter girls

My neighborhood is a fairly safe one for kids to play on. Yes, there are people who barrel down the road far faster than the twenty-five mile-per-hour signs permit—UPS and FedEx trucks are prime offenders—but most people who drive here live here and drive with care.
This summer I've seen girls riding small electric scooters. The scooter I like best is the one that looks like a Vespa. The girl on it often wears a dress and looks like a miniature Parisian. 

Scooter girls in my neighborhood take a break.

I'm of two minds about them. (An aside. Is the phrase "of two minds" one that only geezers use? Like "lickety split" or "the cat's pajamas"?) 
First, I thought, they should be riding bicycles, exercising their legs, lungs and hearts and getting familiar with the concept of energy-free travel.
Second, and this wins, they are outside of view of a parent or any other adult supervisor. That's rare these days and heartening to see. Is there a chance that a neighborhood pervert will say something to them or flash them? It's doubtful, but it'd be awful if it happened; they're much to young to have their trust in people marred. 
The only boys I see are the one who walks the family dogs with his mother, the one next door who rides a bicycle with his father, and a teenager on a skateboard. The biking boy is too young to go out on his own, so that's fine. I suspect the dog walker is doing so under duress. My guess when it comes to other boys in the area is that they're spending their summer days inside playing Minecraft or some game in which they go around shooting people in the head. They're in dark rooms, staring at screens, eating Cheetos, alone. Not heartening.