The Pilgrimage

Mecca

The problem with doing a “theme blog” such as this one is that sometimes there is no news on the theme to report. Take this past week for example—the Vespa didn’t get ridden at all, which was a crying shame since last week included more daylight hours than any week of the year. I’m afraid those daylight hours were squandered on (a) work (ugh—they really mean it when they say “full time”), (b) commuting to and fro, and (c) other after-work commitments. I considered filling the downtime with a post devoted to the Vespa’s turn signals and the fact that they don’t automatically turn off when you complete the turn OR make any sort of “I’m still blinking” noise that is audible through the three inches of padding in my Spaceballs helmet and the many senior moments this has caused, but then I got bored (and a little depressed) just thinking about it.

Come this Saturday, I was really excited to get some more Vespaing in. To date, I had only gone on “practice drives,” the sole purpose of which was to improve my riding skills. I decided I was finally ready for some Vespa multi-tasking. My goal was to ride the Vespa to my local shopping mall (about 2.0 miles away on a very busy street), do some shopping, and then ride home. In other words, it was the Inaugural Vespa Errand.

Let me tell you a few things about this mall. First, it is fabulous. It could totally beat up your mall. Does your mall’s food court serve everything on fine china? I didn’t think so. Second, I used to live a lot closer to it (.5 miles away). Third, due to said fabulousness (and the fact that shopping is the official community sport of West LA), it gets really, really crowded on the weekends. When I lived at my old apartment, I used to walk there, but occasionally I would stop by in my car at the tail end of running other errands. Without fail, I would drive around the parking garage for 20 minutes looking for parking, only to give up, drive home, and walk back. The intense competition for parking spaces results in a vicious, dog-eat-dog driving atmosphere in the garage, or as I like to call it, the Pit.

When I’m in the Jeep, I can hold my own in the Pit; but I was a little intimidated to take it on while riding the Vespa. For this reason, I headed out for the mall as soon as it opened with the hope of beating the crowd. Once I got into the Pit I realized all my fears were gloriously unfounded because there would be no need to “navigate” the Pit after all because YOU CAN PARK A VESPA ANYWHERE!! Indeed, I was in the garage for all of two seconds when I spotted a triangular nonspace too small for the average motorcycle that was (a) right in front of the Parking Office (great for security) and (b) within 20 steps of the escalator up to the mall. As I evaluated the nonspace, the grouchy-looking parking manager came out of his office. I asked if I could park in the nonspace and, at the prospect of saving just one extra real space for those bullies in the Escalade Brigade, he eagerly nodded in the affirmative. Once I parked the Vespa and turned it off and put down the stand (still an awkward chain of events for me), he told me in his lovable yet grouchy manner that, whenever I come, I should park right there. Landing a personal parking spot in this particular mall was a major coup! Not wanting to press my luck, I decided to hold off until next time to inquire about having my name stenciled on it.

I had three things on my shopping list. The first was to buy a new purse, which I desperately need after learning a hard-knocks lesson that a purse is not the proper place to store an open beverage. The second was to buy one new shirt or dress that I could wear to two different events on Saturday night. The third was to resist buying anything else. I failed on all three accounts.

In my defense, it wasn’t really my fault that MNG by Mango was having a 50% off sale on everything in the entire store, including their already low priced suits! Because I get a small clothing allowance at work, my reimbursable purchase of three new suits was completely justifiable. However, FOLLACI ensued when I went to pay for the suits and the salesgirl asked the obligatory question of “Do you want these on the hanger?” To anyone who’s ever been to MNG, the obvious answer is a resounding “yes” because they have these awesome chrome hangers. But quickly dismissing the notion of Vespaing home one-handed while gripping the hanging bag over my shoulder, I feebly said “No, I need them in a bag. In fact, I need you to pack them as compactly as possible.” The salesgirl obliged despite the fact that folding a brand new suit like an origami crane defies all reason and will doubtlessly affect my standing in the West LA shopping rankings.

By the time I made it back down to my personal parking space, I had three shopping bags, none of which contained a purse or a Saturday night outfit. I also had my temporary purse to deal with—i.e., a hideous old beach bag. I combined two of the shopping bags and managed to stuff the entire thing into the space under the seat the way a cartoon character would stuff a suitcase and close it by sitting on it. Then I put the beach bag in the remaining shopping bag (because the shopping bag was, by far, the more attractive of the two) and hung it from this plastic hook that protrudes from the seat. When a bag is hung there, it rests on the floorboards and you hold it in place with your feet. It’s awkward to say the least.

The biggest mishap occurred at the exit to the Pit. I always drive my Vespa in the middle of the lane because the DMV told me that’s what I should do, and although I’d like to say I’m one of those people who’s always questioning authority, I just don’t have the time. So as I waited in line to get out of the Pit, I was dutifully driving in the middle of the lane. Thus, when I pulled up to the ticket machine, I was way too far to the right to be able to insert my ticket. Did I also mention this was on a steep incline and there was a line of cars behind me? Because I couldn’t think of any other solution, I gripped the front brake with my right hand so hard I was shaking, and physically leaned waaaaay over to the left until I was able pop the ticket in with my finger tips. And I took a looooong time to do it because I was uncertain how far was too far to lean in terms of gravity taking over and the Vespa falling to the floor. When the parking arm finally lifted, I overcompensated for the incline and shot out of the Pit like I was on a motocross track. The whole situation screamed of utter dorktitude.

On my way back, I filled up the tank for the first time. It took less than one gallon. It cost $3.37. At this rate, I will not have to fill up again for another two months.

All things considered, the Inagural Vespa Errand was a success in that, at this point, any Vespa outing that doesn't end in death or serious bodily injury is a success. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to spend the next three hours steaming the wrinkles and exhaust smell out of my new suits.