When I was living in New York City I would walk by a pale green Vespa every day. It was always parked in the same spot on 77th street, and it was a beautiful little thing. Sometimes, depending on the time of day, I would see pretty German-looking people milling around it with coffees and nice looking sun-glasses. I really enjoyed this Vespa, and these pretty German-looking people. Not only were they easy on the eyes, but they were one of the small things that was consistent in my New York life, and so they became very neighboorhood-y to me—like, woop there’s there’s the homeless guy who lives outside the magazine store and bathes in the Starbucks; there’s the security guard smoking and humming and nodding his head at me as I pass with a plastic bag full of granola bars for lunch; and hey, there’s the beautiful pale green vespa glittering in the sun.
Well, anyHOO, I saw the green vespa today after work! I was just walking along and minding my own business and enjoying the delicious cool air we had today and I saw it and was like, Vessssspa! Is that youuuuu? You look so good! Where are your parents! I took out my camera to take a missing persons’ picture, took it (as you will see), and then three seconds later its owner came over—a pretty young girl in a straw hat, reeking of coolness. (I think it’s a requirement that you have to be REALLY fabulous to own a pale green Vespa.) I backed away asap to avoid major creepiness, but I still took another photo anyway. I think I even got the fabulous girl hugging her fabulous hipster friend good-bye.
Yay for Vespas!
And one day, when I live in Italy and bathe in bathtubs filled with raspberries, I will own one too.