THANKFUL FRIDAY

There is the slightest hint of color reflecting off all the gray, dead looking trees outside. The greens of this year’s tulips have been up and out of the ground for weeks. The daffodils and hyacinths have all bloomed and the tulip trees are blooming. Most days are still uncomfortably chilly, but about once a week we get a warm and sunny day to remind us that Winter doesn’t last forever. That was Tuesday this week. The rest of the week was rainy, even snowy at times, and gross. But Tuesday? Tuesday was scooter weather. Tuesday I rode my scooter to work with a grin on my face. Then I rode my scooter to my chiropractic appointment at lunch time. From there, I almost did not go back to work because I was tempted to spend the rest of the day, zipping around the city with no destination in mind.

I haven’t said much about my new scooter, Valerie. I think there has been a part of me that has been holding back on fully embracing a new scooter. I was heartbroken over the loss of V. Devastated. I went to a real dark place. The only Vespa dealership in Kansas City is not my favorite place due to it’s misogynistic environment. The fun of shopping was diminished. I wasn’t buying a new scooter for the fun of it, because it was time and I deserved something new and shiny. I am going to admit that for the tiniest breath of a moment, I considered the idea of not replacing V. In that moment, I thought that maybe I was over the whole scooter thing and if I wanted two wheels, I’d just ride my bicycle. Even after the new scooter arrived, I was a bit hesitant to ride. It’s not that Valerie is so much different from V, but turn the signal buttons and the horn button aren’t quite in the same spots. I have to rewire my muscle memories and I’ve honked my horn a number of times while attempting to use my turn signal.

A shift in my feelings towards Valerie began when I finally put the rack and windshield on her, along with a permanent tag. I have yet to install the front rack and after watching a YouTube video on how to do so, I decided that I would not be installing the front rack. It involves a drill and drill bits. This feels like a job for someone more qualified than I. As it is, Valerie is now as decked out as V was, minus a few stickers. I’m on the hunt for a replacement Princess Leia sticker, but I did put a lovely rainbow ‘fuck fascism’ sticker on one side. Tuesday, as I rode to work, my heart swelled up with joy and that is when it truly hit me. It doesn’t matter what color, make or model of the Vespa. All that matters is that it is a candy colored, L-shaped swoosh of metal on two wheels and that it is zippy. My friend Sarah saw me leaving the parking garage for my chiropractor and when I came back she told me that I looked so chic. This is exactly the image I have of myself on any scooter. It’s how I felt when riding my old scooter and that feeling hasn’t changed with the new one.

I’m really thankful that I did not let that tiniest breath of a moment be longer than a tiniest breath.

THE HARDEST YOGA POSE

In 2008, Chris and I had tickets to see Feist in concert, a concert playing at the Starlight Theater in Kansas City. This was well before we knew that we would eventually be moving to that area. We decided to go to Tulsa the day before the concert and spend the night at my parents. Tulsa had recently opened a new Whole Foods and since Chris and I were all into grocery stores, we wanted to go check it out. As we drove down Peoria, we passed a scooter shop and sitting out front were two scooters, an orange one and a blue one. Chris and I looked at each other and did an illegal u-turn and parked in front of the shop. It was like they had parked us out in front. Chris and Cindy. Orange and blue. My credit was so bad that my Dad had to drive down to sign the loan papers. Before signing, Dad looked at me and said “Is this what you really want?” I replied with my whole heart “Yes. Yes, this is what I want.” He laughed and signed the papers.

There are so many things about that day that stands out in my memory. The perfection of that moment. Chris and I had been eyeing scooters for some time and here we had stumbled upon the most perfect scooters. They were Vespas in our colors. Dad, who I would never in a million years thought he would approve and agree, signed the paperwork to make it happen. There was only one moment of hesitation for me and that was when they delivered our scooters and I realized that I had no idea how to ride. I immediately almost ran into a parked car, but I knew without a doubt that I was meant to ride a scooter. I studied the motorcycle licensing book that tells you all the ways you’re going to die on a motorcycle. I went to a parking lot in the neighborhood every day and practiced turns and stops and driving in a straight line. I passed the motorcycle driving test with flying colors.

My scooter is more than a fancy Italian name with an engine and two wheels. It has been a source of joy since the moment I laid eyes on it. It taught me perseverance. It made me more observant to my surroundings. It has been a comfort in real shit times and it has become an extension of who I am. And on Friday afternoon, two men drove into the parking garage at work and loaded my joy into the back of a van and drove away. Just like that. My V is gone and I have no hope of ever seeing her again. I filed a police report with a very apathetic and robotic woman holding down the front desk of the local police department who couldn’t find my vehicle in the MO registration because she kept typing it up as a Vesta. I never spoke to a police officer. So, I feel certain that V is gone forever. I’ve had a whole weekend of moping about and leaky eyes over the whole thing.

I’m sad.

I’m broken hearted and defeated.

At dinner that night, our conversation turned to yoga and I told the Cabbage that the hardest pose in yoga is savasana. What makes it so difficult for most people is that it requires you to be still with your own thoughts. The true practice of this pose is really hard because the true pose is practicing the art of dying. It is saying goodbye to everything in your life. There are times when I think that I’ve got this pose mastered. It has gotten easy to say goodbye, or so I thought. This current goodbye was so unexpected, such a shock to the system, that it is going to take some time and practice to settle back into stillness. Michael is already talking about my next scooter and of course, when the time’s right, I will get a new one. But for now, I need to spend some time saying goodbye to all of the things that this scooter, my very first scooter, represented in my life. The emotional value of this scooter far exceeds the monetary value of the scooter.

And there’s no replacing something like that so quickly.

VESPERADOS

A few nights ago, I’m sitting on the couch and scrolling through my Instagram feed. Up pops an ad for Vespa and my first thought is “Vespa, why are you wasting your time with me. I’m a sure thing.” Everyone knows that I love my Vespa just about as much as I love Josephine. My plan is to have this scoter until I’m 108 years old, but if something happens and I have to replace it, I will just replace it with another Vespa. So I say to Michael “Why am I getting Vespa ads on my Instagram?” To which he replies “It’s not me! I have not been looking. I swear.” Then I looked. I scrolled through the new line of Vespas and landed on a picture. I turned it for Michael to see and then I said “Yeah, but wouldn’t this look so much better in the garage than that giant scooter you have now?”

Michael’s current scooter is a joke. It is huge and clunky, with a large engine. The engine really belongs on a motorcycle. Watching Michael maneuver his scooter in and out of the garage, hurts my body. It looks like he’s trying to wrestle with a robot and the robot is winning. It takes up so much space in the garage that I struggle to get to my scooter. I’ve never been a fan. I’m a snob and I think his scooter is ugly. Two nights after I planted the Vespa seed, it sprouted while watching Luca on Disney+. Luca sees the Vespa poster on Alberto’s wall and asks “What’s a Vespa?” Alberto responds with “What’s a Vespa? What’s a Vespa!?! It’s only the best thing in the whole world!” Michael looked at me and I just shrugged. Then we both started laughing because Alberto is not wrong.

The next day, Michael went shopping for a new Vespa.

I rode out to the dealership with him last night so he could trade in the old scooter and finalize the paperwork on the new scooter. He settled on a 300cc Vespa GTS. He’s still got to order trunk and windshield. Vespa parts are hard to come by these days partly because of the pandemic and partly because the factory closes for a month in the summer. Afterwards, we took both scooters for a ride out to dinner. When I caught up with at the first stoplight, he turned to me and crowed with laughter. He yelled “it feels like I’m riding a scooter!” The old bike was really a motorcycle dressed as a scooter. Don’t get me wrong; motorcycles are great. They’re just different and riding a scooter brings a certain level of joy. Michael had been without that kind of joy for the last two years. He also rides this scooter differently. Before, we would be on rides together and he’d often leave me behind. Then he’d try to drive it like it was still a small scooter instead of giant beast. We were on rides ‘together’ but we were not together. Last night, we rode together, like for real together, and I got a glimpse of a previous life.

It made my heart swell.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I missed a large chunk of scooter season to the pandemic shut down. Weekends were the only times we were going anywhere or venturing out and we tried to take the scooters as often as possible, but weekend errands/outings more often than not happened in the car. Then Michael broke his arm. His elbow is healed, but he still doesn’t have the strength to hold up his heavy scooter. Now that I’m back at work, I ride my scooter as often as the weather allows for it. The weather has been kind because I have been able to scoot to work almost every day of the week.

It has been amazing.

Wednesday afternoon, I scooted down to Union Station to vote and when I told my boss what I was doing, he was seriously jealous. It was summer like temperatures outside and I pulled off my sweater. If I had had flip-flops, I would have kicked off my socks and shoes and put them on even though I know I’m not to wear flip-flops on the scooter. I could easily imagine myself on an island, scooting my way to the beach, a surfboard bungie corded to my crate. This week someone stopped me in the hallway to say something about how I must be loving this weather on a scooter. I agreed that it has been wonderful. Then I said that I was going to see how hard I could push myself this year by seeing how much cold I could tolerate. Once the temperatures drop down colder than a simple jacket and gloves requires, I might try layering on coats and just keep riding until the first freeze or snowfall. Last year the first snow hit us in October. I think my scooter days for the year are very numbered. I’m soaking in as many days worth as I can.

Michael once asked me if I would ever consider buying a different scooter. Michael is the original Goldie Locks. It takes him some time to find the ‘just right’. He is flabbergasted that I would not even want to consider anything else. I’ve had V for twelve years now and I can’t imagine owning any other scooter. I am sure the day will come when I have to replace V, but my plan is to just replace her with a carbon copy of herself. I knew that I wanted a Vespa the first time I saw Audrey Hepburn gleefully and recklessly take off on one in Roman Holiday . I think I was nine or ten when I watched that movie and it gave me grown-up goals. I thought to myself “Cindy, when you grow up, you will ride a Vespa scooter and wear ballet flats. You will have sassy short hair and maybe wear scarf.” Well, I’m all grown-up and I ride a Vespa. I do not wear ballet flats or a scarf (unless it’s cold), but I do have the sassy short hair.

On my ride home from Dr. Mary’s this week, I passed a man walking with his three daughters. The girls ranged from age two to maybe six. The oldest one saw me first. Her face lit up and she stopped short. Then her little hand went into the air to wave at me. I waved back and then beeped my horn. All three girls hopped up and down with glee. I like to think that I became their Audrey Hepburn that day and that they will grow up to ride scooters.

V is still the best investment I have ever made.