Transportation: what to do if you're not Sonic The Hedgehog

This is my old trusty bicycle and my Vespa. The Vespa has been out of commission since November of 2006 because the head light burnt out. It's illegal to drive a scooter without a headlight. Even during the day. I am nothing, if not law abiding. I don't even jay walk. (Ask my family. They will affirm that this is true and then tell you how ridiculous it is to have to wait at the curb with me for the light to change when there isn't a car in sight for miles.)

I find it hard to believe that not every town has a Vespa dealership and garage, but this is a true fact. No one here in my town sells the bulbs for my head lights. So when we went down to California to visit my mom at Thanksgiving, before we stashed her into our extra bedroom, I ordered (and paid for) a couple of headlight bulbs from the Vespa dealership in Santa Rosa where I bought my stylish ET4. It is now the end of April (in case no one noticed) and I still have not received my bulbs.

We actually made a special trip into Portland too to the Vespa dealership there to get the bulbs but on the particular day we went to the service garage, it was closed so that the mechanic could attend a lousy wedding. So here we are. My Vespa battery has since died. Philip charged it up but apparently not enough to start the engine.

I love riding my bicycle. Especially since it doesn't require gas. Which is annoying to get into a scooter here in Oregon where you can't pump your own gas, because a lot of the attendants do not understand fractions. As in: "Could you give me one and a quarter gallons of premium please." Gas attendant: "huh?" Me: "You know, 1.25 gallons. My engine only holds 1.5 so if you fill it more than 1.25 it might splash out." Gas attendant: looks longingly at the muscle car that just pulled up at the next pump. Clearly wants to run from fractions. Muscle cars don't require fractions, you just fill that deep tank the hell up with dead bodies a whole barrel of oil and you're good to go.

However, I miss riding my scooter. As far as gas munching vehicles go, it is extremely efficient. Plus, Jesus!, they're so stylish it just kills me. I've never driven a car*. I've never had my car license until Oregon graced me with one by accident**. I still mostly think I don't ever want to drive a car. They're useful. I'm not a jerk about this, I'm glad Philip drives. There are a lot of times when having a car is a god-send. But I'd be happy to spend the rest of my life zipping around on the power of my own two legs, and my Vespa. If it ever gets fixed.

I clearly need to call the dealership in Santa Rosa. But haven't I mentioned yet that among the evils of being me is a pathological need to avoid phone calls in which I am either requesting that I receive services already paid for, or trying to return anything. I am aware of how stupid this is. But that's what makes being me so much fun.

Max is watching Sonic The Hedgehog now. This morning as I snapped this picture, I realized that my alter ego just might be "Angelina The Flame Retardant Human". Doesn't that have a nice ring to it? It just came to me in a flash.

Wouldn't it be cool if I could teach Chick to ride on the back of my scooter? Oh my god, I can totally picture her ears flapping in the wind! She has been a very naughty dog for the past few days. Chewing up everything within reach. I think her legs are growing because she's reaching things she didn't used to be able to reach. I haven't told Max that she ate his tooth brush last night because Max is not a kid who takes these things lightly. In fact, he usually sentences Chick to a life in jail every time she gets hold of one of his toys, or when he thinks she might have gotten hold of something of his. Max doesn't insist on proof.

This kind of thing used to disgust me down to my bones. Being licked by dogs. Dogs eat things like cat feces. They also eat all kinds of rotted goods. I like to think of my change in attitude about dogs as "The irony of the black dog". Chick changed a lot of things for me. I still don't actually enjoy being slobbered on by animals (or people). Saliva drippings just don't do it for me. Which is funny because almost all the dogs in the world I'm most attracted to have droopy lips from which copious amounts of drool leaks all day long. Chick doesn't drool much though. Only when she's sees her lunch (or our cats) coming. But she'll cop a lick any chance she gets, like any other normal dog. Wouldn't "The irony of the black dog" make a great title for something, like maybe a book?

Maybe I'll write the great American novel after all. Naturally it will have to test the outer limits of my vocabulary and be full of really maladjusted characters who have really twisted relationships. I'll probably have to commit suicide after it gets published if I want to have it be really successful. Or just fall apart spectacularly.

Yesterday was brilliant. I want to say a HUGE thanks to a few marvelous people who put the spark in my day: Alice at Future Girl for making me a button to put on my blog to link to our web store. Check it out! She wasn't the only one to offer to do this for me, by the way. Michelle from Green Kitchen also offered. I can't even tell you how much I appreciate having such amazing women helping to support our endeavor. Not only that, we sold another Futuregirl handbag and this time it wasn't to a family member either. YAY!

But that's not all. We also got our first two orders for Peace aprons from two people who also read my blog. Plaidshoes (who doesn't have a blog at this time or I would link to it) bought a blue Peace apron which will be sent out today, and Karmyn from Dreaming What Ifs bought a yellow one and a blue one which should also be sent out today. Thank you so much, ladies, both for supporting Dustpan Alley, and also (somewhat more importantly) Peace!


*Not strictly true. In fact, when I was sixteen I drove my mom and my siblings over Mt. Tam and almost killed us all. I've also driven cars in a multitude of parking lots during the time I was still pretending I wanted to learn to drive.

**True fact. I don't blame Oregon for not noticing that my California license was for motorcycles only. Who only has a motorcycle license in this country? Me, that's who.