I launched yet another unsuccessful attempt to get honey to buy us a pair of matching Vespa like scooters. I think they'd be fun and cheap, he think's they're sissy and weak. None of my arguments or persuasions worked, and I had some really good ones!
     

     I told him," if we had a pair we could be our own little bike gang!" He laughed and said you couldn't be a gang and ride a Vespa.  I told him to picture it, the two of us scooting about town, wind in our hair and not going fast enough to whip it, so there's no need to recomb when you get to where you're going. "Look over there honey, see that old lady giving us the evil scowl, she thinks we're a couple of no-goodniks, bike toughs, who might run down her azalea's for no more reason than a good laugh.
     

     Feel that Honey? That's the thrum of  that mighty efficient little motor between your thighs as you idle at the light. That's the feel of raw, unadulterated  power your straddlin', and you won't believe how much cheaper the gas is. He laughs and says he could feel more power straddlin' the riding mower.
 I'm undaunted. "But honey, on the mower could you be decked out in tough bike attire? After we get the scooters, we'll motor over to the Harley-Davidson store and pick up some leather jackets. We can use some fabric paint and the niece's Bedazzler to put our kick-ass insignia on back!"
   

     What insignia, he says.
    "The insignia for our bike gang!"  What's our gangs name, the Hells Angels II?

      "Ha ha, no. We could be the Purgatory's Angels, not good, but not really bad either. Stuck in the limbo of the town limits, forbidden by our small engines and smaller gas tank size to venture out into the big world beyond. We don't rape, steal, maim or get wasted; we do take off early from work everytime the boss isn't looking, double park, disobey solid yellow lines and occasionaly, on the weekend, if there's no work in the morning, we drink too much red wine! And at dusk, just as the town is begining to stir, we can park our mighty scooters atop the school hill and yell down that they should fear us, and they will all turn uneasy in their warm safe beds, and we shall be feared, MUHAHAHAHA! Then of course, we'll run our asses off, cause there's no way the bikes are outracing a cop car, and I'm to young to go to jail."
     He laughed and said no.

   So, my dream of being a two member scooter gang goes unfulfilled yet again, but I shan't give up, one day I vow I will be a bad mamma on a wicked Hog, or Piglet, of a bike, raising hell in an environmentally friendly way! Kiss my dirt good buddies..and if honey doesn't get onboard soon, he'll have to ride in the bitch seat.

 Hoosier~