Mainlining the American Dream

Right now I have the urge to jump on my sleek Vespa and head out of town. Or perhaps just to drive in the country. Or just to leave. My scooter has no name because in spite of the fact that I tend to relish naming things, it seems too precious of me. Most people name their vehicles but somehow I just don't want it to do it. It's the only motorized vehicle I have ever owned or had a license to drive. Philip doesn't own it. He doesn't have a license for it. It's mine.

Having a vehicle and getting the urge to get in it (or on it) and hit the open road is so quintessentially American that I feel like perhaps I'm pretty much your average Jane after all. It's all about having a perennial escape route. Being unfettered enough to get up and go. To guzzle as much gas as you want. I have to say that writing that down makes Americans sound like paranoid gluttons. Which we are, actually.

Part of me has been happy to rest my Vespa in the garage for the past seven months while trying to track down a new headlight bulb because it's forced me to ride my bike around in the sun, wind, rain, and snow. Yes, snow. (The snow was fine, it was the ice that almost killed me.) I certainly haven't gotten fitter for doing it because I live pretty close to my work, but I did feel better not using another vehicle. We use the car to go to Portland and to see our friends in other towns, but around here, most of the time, we walk and ride our bikes.

It takes no oil to use our legs or our bicycles. I feel good about that.

Yet I have to admit that I missed riding my Vespa. I don't really need it to go grocery shopping with, because I can fit almost anything in or on my bicycle baskets. I didn't miss the convenience of it. I just missed the fun of driving it.

Now I have it back and I want to ride it all the time. Unfortunately, in the time I haven't ridden it the gas prices have gone up quite a lot. Gasoline is becoming prohibitively priced. It cost me over five dollars to fill up my tank which holds about as much gasoline as my bladder holds pee.

I had the chance on Friday to go out for a ride in the sunshine by myself and I chose not to. Later I missed the feeling of the wind rushing by, of turning smoothly down unknown streets, and of hailing the pasture cows as I fly by like a super-bird. Next time I'm just going to take off.