They Know

I'll bet her parents took this picture...

So I know I promised a three-episode forum regarding how to tell Dave and Mary ( i.e., the 'rents) about the Vespa, complete with alternate endings and a swell soundtrack, but I'm afraid the deed has been done.

It all started when they called me from AZ last Thursday to say they were sick of the 118 degree heat. Go figure. "We're coming out there!" they said. "There" being here. "Here" being California. "California" being the general location where the Vespa is parked.

Just so you know, I have the most supportive parents on the planet. I could tell them that I was joining a band of rogue Trekkies who are building an undersea armed enclave where they will sequester themselves and practice polyester-clad human sacrifice until the Vulcan gods respond by setting the earth ablaze, sparing only those who were smart enough to live in the ocean and wear nonflammable materials and Dave and Mary would say "Neat!" while Dave's eyes rolled back in his head and Mary looked like she was going to pass out. So I didn't conceal the Vespa purchase from them because I was afraid they would be mad or because I'm not a grown-up who can make her own decisions; rather, I did it so they wouldn't worry too much while I was learning.

Okay, and a small part of me thinks maybe I concealed it for fear of furthering my reputation as the recklessly irresponsible kid in the family. Some families have a black sheep, but we really don't. However, we do seem to have a pink polka-dotted sheep that wears a beanie and rides a skateboard with a lollipop in her mouth, and that sheep has switched off between me and Mrs. Dub in the past, but ever since Mrs. Dub pulled out her tongue ring and went on a church mission, it seems like that sheep is me.

How I got this reputation is beyond me. For those of you who don't know, I've got three sibs: Mrs. Gee, Mrs. Dub and, for lack of a better moniker, Archie. In the past two months, Archie has graduated from school, moved, gotten married, gone to Europe for job interviews, accepted a job offer in Spain, and set into motion the mountain of paperwork required to live and work there. About the only things I did during the same period of time were watch a lot of Law & Order reruns and buy a Vespa. Mrs. Gee and Mrs. Dub have each had a darling baby in the past year. And although I realize that buying a Vespa might be viewed as both (a) dangerous, and (b) financially unsound, it is no more dangerous than living in the terrorist hotspot of Western Europe, and it is no more expensive than committing to feed, clothe, and house another human being for at least eighteen years. What's more, I can always sell the Vespa once I've had my fill of it. Try doing that with a baby. Or Spain.

I have a sneaking suspicion my bad name may or may not have something to do with a certain 1975 VW Bug, which may or may not have been purchased with money Dave and Mary provided to me to pay for college, and which may or may not have been so ill-suited for driving that it ended up as a disco ball, but I guess I'll never know for sure.

In typical fashion, I foresaw the need to break the Vespa news to Dave and Mary from the minute they announced their trip, but procrastinated figuring out how to do so until the three of us were standing in my parking garage, staring at the Vespa, and some sort of ABC After School Special type phrase like "I've got something I have to tell you!" came stumbling out of my mouth. I pointed to the dragon red beaut and told them it was mine and they both said "Neat!" while Dave's eyes rolled back in his head and Mary looked like she was going to pass out.

You'll be glad to know that the next twenty-four hours were filled with so much spontaneous Vespa propaganda that I believe I truly convinced Dave, Mary, and myself that Vespas are the universal solution to all the world's ills. Once they got over their initial shock, Dave and Mary insisted on taking pictures of me riding the Vespa so they could post them on a different blog. I have to admit that, as a thirty-one year old woman, I was a little chagrined at the notion of riding my red bike up and down the street while my parents waved and snapped photos of me, but I was willing to so debase myself if it meant they could make peace with the Vespa. Unfortunately, I had already subconsciously willed Dave's fancy camera to break—an event of cataclysmic proportions as Dave and Mary were minutes away from traveling to visit with the supernaturally photogenic Lil' Gee—and my own photo shoot was quickly forgotten in the ensuing drama.

So, I apologize to all five of my commenting readers for not involving you in the great Vespa-outing of 2007—but feel free to post your suggestions anyway. I'm sure they will come in handy on the next big secret.

Oh, and kudos to Mrs. Dub and Mrs. Gee for managing to keep the secret for so long. And apologies to Archie and the Mrs. – although they are just as trustworthy as the other sibs, their dangerous proximity to Dave and Mary prevented full disclosure. Naturally, I'm hoping they'll consider getting a Vespa in Spain and heading the European chapter of my scooter gang.