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June 18, 2005

Atomic Fireball

On my way to school work the other day, I spied in my rear-view mirror a Vespa behind me. As I pulled up to the stoplight, I moved over to the left of the lane so it could move alongside. The Vespa's operator was a handsome woman in her mid-30's to early 40's wearing a floral jacket. But oh the scooter! It was red with yellow flames on the fender, cowls, and legshield with an "Atomic Fireball" logo (just like the candies) painted on it. An art-scooter. I loved it. As it turned out, it came that way.

We exchanged props on our respective machines—she relating how the new scooter is so much easier to get and keep running than the old. I used to ask what the fun was in that, but I can make room in my heart for something that cool, even if it is a Vespa (or Stella). The fact that there are hundreds of them out there diminishes their interest to me just a little.

Thanks for the props Fireball-Lady; see you around.

Posted by Underblog at 5:55 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

June 2, 2005

Cautionary Tale

I usually feel pretty confident speeding on small motorcycles. I think that cops are not after wee bikes: it is comical to think of someone on a dangerously underpowered motor vehicle ticketed for speeding. I feel different today.
On my way to school work yesterday, I pushed the limit of what the Trail90 is able to do speedwise across the Marshall Ave. - Lake St. bridge over the Mississippi River. I suppose I got it up to about 50 or so—on the downhill portion, anyway. I pulled up to the stoplight at the Mississippi River Blvd. West alongside a large man on a large motorcycle. A cop was at the intersection; small strobe lights under the cop car's fender signalled that he was pulling someone over. It was either me or the large motorcycle. My brain released adrenaline into my bloodstream; I felt flushed and my breath shortened. The light turned green. I and the other motorcyclist inched forward. The cop pulled out a few feet to stop us. The large bike turned left onto the River Parkway and the cop pulled him over. I felt as though I had dodged a bullet. Or at least a ticket. I proceeded straight through the light (where I usually turn right) and headed back to the Parkway upstream from the pull over scene.
Today, I proceeded much more calmly across the Mississippi River bridge.

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