All posts in nyc

-

-

for someone who’s not good at keeping secrets, I’ve done a good job of keeping a secret. the 2nd week I moved to Brooklyn, I found this gorgeous little thing on Craigslist. it’d been posted a few days prior and, with Vespas being the absolute cupcakes here in NYC, I was sure it had gone [I won't tell you the price, but trust me that this was a steal]. I went ahead and emailed the poor fella who had to let her go and went ahead and asked if he had sold her yet and, as it turned out, he had received loads of inquiries, but had been out of town for a few days and mine just happened to be the first [read: most recent] email on top. so I had first dibs. problem was that while I had plenty of dibs, I did not [nor do I ever have] the money for it. so I tried a second Hail Mary and asked if he’d be willing to accept 6 weeks of partial payments. cheeky, sure, but it was either that or quickly sell 341 books.

and he went for it.

it’s amazing what happens when you take the chance and just ask. try it for a week.

so…

the night before I go to pick it up, I happen to get a call from my buddy Chris – who lives here in town, but I never get to see [read: common occurrence in the city] and we decided on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon to meet up at my 2nd home/favorite joint in NYC, Salt.

did I mention it was gorgeous? and that I hadn’t seen Chris in a while? and that we were at my favorite place in the city?

okay, good.

6 hours [unconfirmed] and 7 [confirmed] bottles of cava later, we came to the conclusion that we had done a good job of catching up.

the next morning, our heads/legs/shoulders/soul/toe would question our reasoning.

I was woken up by a message from the Vespa owner saying that he had to leave town early, so could I get there within the hour?

no.

but I had to.

so, yes.

now, I don’t know what you know about New York City, but I live in the gorgeous Brooklyn area of Park Slope. previously-nice-now-turned-mean-spirited Vespa owner lives on the Upper West Side. it’s basically from Prospect Park to Central Park. a long way. and it’s a very long way on a train when you’ve got the shakes and a vicious headache.

I think I said ‘hello’ to him and I’m pretty sure I told him ‘I understand’ when he gave me instructions that I didn’t understand. somehow, in the months leading up to the acquisition, I had not realized that this was a manual Vespa, as opposed to the normal automatic. and it’s not the manual like a motorcycle, which you might have read about my experience with. it’s different. a lot different.

anyway.

I couldn’t tell you the number of times I stalled in front of buses or cabs, or even the more dangerous bike messengers. I can tell you I did about 25mph the entire time. I missed turns, almost ended up in a tunnel to New Jersey and then almost hit a large group of tourists crossing over to the World Trade grounds. what was supposed to be a 30-minute drive from the west of the city to the Brooklyn Bridge took more than an hour.

and then there was the bridge The Bridge. it’s a big ole bridge. and people go really fast on it. there’s no shoulder to go the aforementioned mph preference, and, despite the gorgeous weather, I was still suffering. greatly. lots of suffering. and my wrist hurt from the weird shifting motion. and I was holding in a nervous poo.

and oh yeah! it wasn’t until I was halfway onto the monstrous steel and going 45mph that I realized something I had somehow missed during the Manhattan part of the ride…

the steering column wasn’t aligned.

meaning in order to keep the front wheel straight, my hands were not at the 10-and-2 position, but – in fact – 10.15-and-3.07 marker. now, that might not seem like much to you, but it’s fucklot when you’re on a Vespa going fast over a bridge with angry cabbies behind you [one less customer]. and your mind does a funny thing when realizing the danger you’re in. it doesn’t agree with your hands not being straight. it wants to be straight. aligned. the weirdest thing. my mind actually was telling my body to straighten itself out.

but I couldn’t.

so I freaked.

my hands started shaking more than they were previously. I slowed down and was screamed at by a yellow gang of 4. it started raining [not really][but it might as well have]. I finally made it off and pulled over to calm down.

it took about 20 minutes. both hands – on the area between you thumbs and index finger – were blistered. my bottom had sweated a streak in my shorts. my jaw hurt.

but I had made it over. I was in Brooklyn.

the rest of the day, I rode all over – stopping only to get gas and stopping only once more to ask people how to open up the seat to put gas in it. I enjoyed myself and people told me through unrolled windows at stoplights that they liked my bike. I was a cool guy to them and thus, I was a cool guy to me.

it was a good day.

until David came home and scolded me. ‘you could have been in a lot of trouble – driving around with no license or insurance.’ I pah’d him away with a wave. it was worth the possible $100 fine [or whatever] to be free on the streets of New York City. he told me ‘it would be much worse than a few hundred dollars’ and I pah’d him away again.

but then my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to join a scooter forum and ask.

turns out I would have been in a lot of trouble.

no problem though, right? get a license, get insurance and away I go!

absolutely!

all I have to do is:

- order a new birth certificate [mine was taken in the China raid]

- order a new social security card [same]

- take both in and surrender my OK driver’s license for a NY one

- go back and take the written test for a motorcycle learner’s permit

- enroll in a driving school

- pass the test

- get my NY motorcycle license

… didn’t really think that one through.

but I got one great photo!

so there’s that.