It was a grand day, a hot day, unusually hot for November and more so when you have on a tank-top, long sleeve t-shirt, jacket, gloves and helmet. Oh yes, I was covered in the safety department. Maybe more than past students (I think I was number 15) because there is a certain sense of nervousness you feel when it’s your sister that might break. Hot as it was, there I was with my hand on the throttle, figuring out where the gears were, back-and-forth, back-and-forth, in gear and out until I could do it by feel. These things are not marked, this is no fancy-pants bat-out-of-hell high-tech machine. This was all that is Vespa, plain and simple. Okay, Okay. . . this was not even close to all that is vespa, and this was probably the weakest, slowest thing my brother could find in his arsenal. Maybe the slowest thing he’s ever owned. The rest would leave me flat on my ass and end up on someone’s lawn. (Not unlike the elusive jetski, except scooters don’t float back and gravel tends to embed itself into your skin) I had 50cc’s of 2-stroke goodness and I was determined to learn how to ride the damn thing. As far as sibling lessons go, it went pretty well. We had no arguments or disagreements, he never lost patience with me and most important – I never got angry or upset with myself. There were no “cute” little tantrums because I couldn’t figure out how to balance and the only tears came at 10 or 12 miles per hour (I’m guessing that was my top speed) even though I was wearing sun glasses. Using a hand clutch came pretty easy and listening for the motor to tell me when it was time to shift came naturally too. The hardest part was actually putting it in gear. That sucker is not made for weaklings. When you’re shifting on the fly, trying to remember that you have to go backward past neutral to get to second and are trying really hard not to crash and break yourself, it becomes trying to turn the shifter (If that’s even what you call it). Other than that. . . it was amazing!!!!!! Why haven’t I done this before? What the hell was I afraid of? And all the other stuff – kick starting it, getting it on and off the center stand, pushing it around when it wasn’t on. . . not a big deal. The only thing that kept me from going out Sunday was that I couldn’t put on a shoe. (big, big ugly bruise on the top of my foot, completely unrelated, I hate it when those curbs just jump up out of nowhere!) Oh well, it gave my hand a chance to un-cramp itself.
I have to say there is a certain air of confidence that comes when you’ve done something you were afraid to even try. When you give up the safety net and just go, when you look out and see that you were missing something amazing, something freeing, when you realize the only thing you had to fear was you. Okay and hitting the pavement at 10 or 12 miles per hour then sliding to a halt by crashing into someone’s car. But whatever. I can check that one off my list and move on to the next. In the mean time, I will be working on the shifting, while scooting along trying to reach a new top speed of 15mph.
