Scooter Time

I want a scooter. Not the kid kind — we have two of those that sit idle in the garage. The boys insisted they needed them, rode them for a week, and that was that. In fairness we do have a steep driveway so it’s just as well. But still. As I recall, the scooter purchase was partly to ward off the pleas for Heelies, those shoes with built-in wheels. Talk about a disaster waiting to happen. They’ll end up breaking enough bones without any additional encouragement.

No I want a real scooter — a Vespa. Something that can tool around town at a top speed of 30 mph. I’d get a black helmet with a little white cross on the front; put my Prayer Book, Bible, and communion kit in the saddle bags and hit the road. Rebel with a cause.

I think the whole idea is the synthesis of two things: gas at $4.25 a gallon coupled with a pre-midlife crisis. I am turning 40 this year after all. Bryna, of course, thinks it’s ridiculous. “How would you take Delilah to work with you?” she asks. I’d get a sidecar. Duh.

Well, I’m in the market for one. Anyone have a garage I can hide it in?


2 Comments on “Scooter Time”

  1. Dorothee says:

    My advice, go straight for the Harley! It’ll go better with the black helmet.

  2. Father Tim says:

    Bryna would kill me long before I had the chance to topple over in the driveway. I gotta start small here!

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