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For our wedding anniversary my husband brought home a brand new, Barbie-doll pink motor scooter for me. He had it specially tricked out with black trim, it was the only one of its kind in town according to the Ducati dealership. I checked our insurance to see if he'd upped the policy on me or something. What was he thinking? I can't ride a bicycle and he gives me a bicycle with a gas engine!
I bought a matching pink helmet and put a wicker basket on the front. Perfect for carrying around a small terrier... oh, wait, that was the wicked witch from Oz. Perfect for carrying a long baguette and fresh veggies from the market. It was quickly nicknamed "Piglet" because it looked so cute parked next to hubby's giant Honda 950.
I had attempted to ride a scooter once as a teenager and promptly ran over myself - it's a long story involving a large pothole (Front tire hit the pothole, flipped me over the handlebars, bike popped out of the hole, continued on its path, and I was laying in its path.) The first time I jumped on Piglet, I rode it straight into the hedge. I got better.
I was concerned about riding it on the road, I felt so insignificant that no one would see me. Hubby said, "It's PINK. Believe me, they will see you. In fact, they might run off the road staring... or laughing." That part is partially true. I do get lots of stares as I go whizzing along. The scooters come with a speed control that limits them to 25 mph, but it's easy to unhook, which we did. I have gotten it up to 45! The world just whips by. I can't figure out how Audrey rode it in that skirt, though. I tried it. The skirt flew up in my face and blocked my view.
For good measure, and to complete the entire Pink package, I use strawberry scented oil in the gas tank so my exhaust smells good! Every time it goes "putt-putt-putt" it expels little Pink Farts.
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