i HEART henry, my little green vespa

i never know what is going to happen next. often, the thing that does happen appears to have dropped from the sky and grounded me into the pavement like that piano that drops on some guys head, falling from the fifth floor window. what i mean is this: in high school, i was tardy to school every day, even though i lived across the street. i expected that. the school secretary expected that. i knew i could count on myself being late, and the secretary would write me up, no questions asked. fine. what i didN'T expect was that my mom, the high school math teacher, would one day write me up for being out of dress code. This would catapult over the line of arbitrary integrity that had been drawn by the highschool, therefore suspending me from school so i could sit all day in the library and look through ancient pages of national geographic. that's what i never expected. and that, by far, was not the last time irony looked askance and shot me a grin.

try this: getting kicked out of college for stealing a plastic carrot from the cafeteria. well, the deans didn't kick me out, but they "grounded" me to the campus for a month, which to me is murder anyway, right? how about breaking my foot the night before i was going to run with the bulls in pamplona, spain? you may say it was providential, but i say better to glory in dying from the run than packing up the next on a train to Paris, only to climb the eiffel tower on crutches. on my return trip to europe, i decided to delay my flight out of new york for four or five days. of course, if you ask mark, he may tell you that our delay was because i couldn't find my passport when we were boarding the plane, and four eventful days were spent in search of another one. just this summer, on my quickest one night round-trip visit to denver from aspen, my car broke down in the middle of the three-hour drive and i was stranded in the middle-of-mountains-nowhere, trying to make my way to a desperate one-night stand.

like i said, i never know what stands imminently in my path, except it usually a lemon. i mean, a bad situation - not the actual fruit (although my track record does indicate that if it were the actual fruit, it would probably be promptly pilfered). so my point, as the old adage goes, is that i make lemonade.

when i found out that, not only had my car broken down, but the engine had blown out, i began scheming. here was my agenda:
• i need to go back to school in a month, and i need a vehicle at school
• i need to drive cross country, because i obviously need to see
friendsin new york, rhode island, maryland, virginia, tennessee,
and georgia
• i need a vehicle between now and the time i leave
• i have always wanted a vespa
• if i spend 5K, i can get a crappy car or the vespa i've always
wanted
• i'll get a vespa.



obviously, this satisfies all of the requirements, not to mention the fact that the insurance and gas are...well, practically non-existent. in a situation with a car that is suddenly worth nothing, no means of transportation, and probably a pouty face, i could have bout a '98 toyota camry and grumbled all the way down to florida. instead, i spearheaded my own cross-country vespa touring movement, and made myself a glass of sparking lemonade. ...er, something like that.

and that, that is the way i came to find, know, and HEART henry, my little green vespa.