I've never been on a moped and this is clearly not how they work

I lived in a strange and wonderful wooden house with my dad and my little brother. I woke up at 8:00 one morning and realized with horror that I was late for work--well, not work, but my student teaching position (which is actually more important than work right now because it's so elemental). But for some reason I couldn't move quickly enough and stopped panicking about being late. I dallied in the kitchen and made coffee and toast. A door opened--it was the door to the basement--and suddenly I realized I was at my old house in Columbia, the one I shared with Brice on 8th Street, in that huge, crooked kitchen. And who else but Brice and Carey Page strolled through the door! I realized they lived on the other side of the house, where Gunnar used to live. Groggily pouring themselves coffee, they asked me questions about student teaching. They were friendly enough. I couldn't shake the feeling that I wanted a cigarette REALLY badly. I searched the house and found my dad's pack. "Thank god," I thought, "he doesn't smoke those terrible menthols anymore." And I took one. As I started my search for a lighter, I started to wonder how I was going to get to my placement school. The school in Lacey. How the hell was I in a house in Missouri? Lol, dreams are so irrational. I took a staircase and found myself in a garage where my dad was sitting on a camping chair fiddling with a knife and a block of wood. I asked him for a light. He lit my cigarette. I inhaled deeply and was so relieved. Just then, my little brother walked into the garage, greeted me, and walked into the house. I spotted a tiny grayish-blue moped in the corner of the garage. "Hey dad, isn't that your bike?" I asked. "Yep." "Does it work?" "Yeah." "Can I borrow it for the day?" "Sure. Do you remember how it works?" I sat on the bike. "I think so." I grabbed the right handlebar and said, "Accelerate." I grabbed the left handlebar and said, "Decelerate." I motioned to the pedal on the right and said, "Brake." "Yep." My dad smiled and told me to have a good day. I started the engine and flew out of the garage. It felt so nice to have the wind whipping through my hair.