Wednesday, November 09, 2005
I have to have a Vespa. A guy is riding one to work and he parks in my parking lot and I am in love with that bike. I started to tell the guy, “Cute bike.” But, I didn’t know how guys felt about being told that something they have is cute. So, I got all tongue-tied and didn’t say anything because my brain couldn’t get past cute. I think tomorrow I’ll ask him about gas mileage or something. I shall say, “Nice bike.” Yeah, that’s it, “Nice bike.”
There would be lots of advantages to owning a Vespa. They aren’t very expensive and they get great gas mileage. Also, as I learned from my evacuation experience, an automobile is virtually useless in an emergency/catastrophic/nuclear explosion/hurricane evacuation-type situation.
My only fear about riding a scooter (other than the fact that I'm extremely accident prone) is the same fear I have about riding in convertibles. I heard a line on CSI one time that describes my feelings perfectly, “Women in convertibles are like low hanging fruit.” What would keep someone from knocking me over the head and stealing my Vespa while I’m sitting at a stoplight? Frankly, I don’t really feel safe sitting inside my car with all of my doors locked at a stoplight. In a convertible or on a Vespa, I’d be out there ripe for the picking like a nice juicy ba-nah-na.
I’ve got it. How about, “Nice bike. It matches your eyes.”