It attracts a crowd. A chatty one.
As luck would have it, I am a natural-born scooterist. This is bad news for this blog, as I was counting on all sorts of magnificent scrapes to report, but I suppose it is good news for my general welfare.
I got lots of practice in this past weekend and feel that in a week or so I will be ready to take on the final frontier: heavy traffic on a busy street. Aside from speed, there are two things I'm not yet used to but am working on. The first is hills. Anyone who has ever driven stick can remember the first hill they stopped on and that sinking feeling of succumbing to the forces of gravity. It's pretty much the same on a scooter, only unlike a car, which takes you down with it, the scooter tries to roll on top of you. The secret, of course, is maintaining a grip of death on the brakes through the stop. So far I have avoided any hill-related disasters, but every time I have to stop on even the teensiest incline, I am acutely aware of the fact that the only thing that is preventing all 300 lbs. of Vespa from becoming a mangled work of modern art is what seems like bicycle brakes and the very tip of my right toe on the pavement (as I am too short to flat-foot it). A few times I have congratulated myself on surviving a hill of Mount Everest proportions, only to drive the same area in my car and realize it is nearly level.
The other thing I am not yet used to is the attention. Now, I don't want to seem like I've got Pouty Mohawk Guy Syndrome (PMGS) or anything. PMGS occurs where one intentionally dons an attention-demanding accoutrement—like a Boss suit in Lakers colors, a full-face tattoo, revealing clothing, or an 18-inch mohawk—and then is inexplicably irritated when it garners attention. I mean, seriously, during the forty minutes you spent spray-starching your hair this morning, it never occurred to you that someone would notice it? Don't get me wrong, I'm all for mohawks and other nonviolent forms of self-expression. I'm just not for mohawk wearers who give five-year-olds the evil eye for staring at their hair.
So, NOT having PMGS, I fully admit that one does not buy a dragon red anything without expecting a little attention for their effort. It's just that I mistakenly figured everyone would keep their bounteous awe and admiration of the Vespa and my scooterrific abilities to themselves. When I'm driving my car, other drivers never roll down their windows to engage me in a full-on conversation. Yet this has happened multiple times on the scooter. I'm not annoyed by it, mind you--just disconcerted. And it wouldn't be so bad if it didn't always start with the same line:
"New bike?"
I try to tell myself it's okay that it's obvious I'm still learning. Even a natural-born scooterist has room for improvement.
8 comments:
Cheyn and I were talking about how your voice needs to be added to the blog world more than any other.
also four post on ours in the past four days? glad to prove you wrong
How cute are you?! I LOVE your blog and I can't wait to see you scooting around the neighborhood!
haaalloooo. this is linda. i forgot i had a blog until i checked yours out. ha. i like your vespa. and your helmet.
you should ask some teenagers if "new bike?" is slang for "you single?" or "what some hash" ... or you know, whatever they're calling them drugs these days.
So when do we get to see photos of you on this dragon red bike?
I just googled your ride and she's a beaut! Keep the tales a' comin', please!
ok the mere design of your blog is gorgeous—love the colors and love the title treatment.
and, as always, fantastic writing. who knew vespa-ing could be a page-turner but I can hardly wait for the next chapter.
given the alleged nature of your helmet, i think you should carry a sign that says, "my schwartz is bigger than your schwartz, and by that i mean, yes, it's a new bike. schwartz."
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