Time To Trade: Vespa for a Yamaha

SOMETIMES IT'S ABOUT PURE JOY. A few years back, like so many aging guys, I heard the call of the wild side of the open road. Maybe it was subliminal residue from watching the movie Easy Rider at an impressionable age, but whatever it was, I answered.

Whereas most old guys go for a Harley Davidson® as their bike of choice, trying to convince the world and themselves they are bada$$; for me, it was a Vespa® that I could picture myself riding. I'm not sure what message I was trying to send. The only time anyone ever says, "Nice ride!" is when I scoot my scooter to Whole Foods® to shop.

Don't under estimate the thrill of a Vespa® ride. Sure, you're not going to ride into a town dressed in black leather and scare anyone. You're not going to intimidate "baptists" from Wichita who've driven down to protest at funerals. But you will have fun.

As you can tell from this photo, the Grand-Girls and I love the Vespa! But, alas, they are a part of the reason that I've decided to sell it. Yes. It is for sale. It could be yours. You might say I want to trade the Vespa® for a Yamaha®.

So, what do the Grand-Girls have to do with my decision to sell my scooter? Music.

I wish that everyone could experience music on a deeper level than just playing the radio. I wish every kid could try their hand at playing an instrument, or singing, or dancing. My parents started me in accordion lessons when I was five and I am so grateful. And while I didn't play the accordion for long, I have been involved in instrumental music all of my life.

So, what does a Vespa have to do with music? A Yamaha®. A Yamaha® piano

I want to buy my Grand-Girls a piano, so I'm selling the Vespa® to get the cash, because the music store won't take my Vespa® in on trade.

As I said, sometimes it about pure joy. While I have had a great time on the Vespa®, I have no doubt that it will bring considerable joy to watch the girls fall in love with music and to listen to them play. 

If you read my last post about Mr. Holland's Opus and Scuffy the Tugboat. This is sort of a personal application of all that. For me, at sixty-something, it's probably not the safest thing to be riding a Vespa® on the streets of OKC--sort of like Scuffy on the ocean with the big boats. So while I have loved the adventure of it all, I can do this: something more age-appropriate and hopefully encourage the love of music for the girls.

So--I have a scooter for sale. It has less than 1,000 miles and has been meticulously cared for. Asking price: $3800. If you're interested, email me: hey.pops.hey@gmail.com

There's That Song Again

Is there an "adventure" gene in guys? If there is, maybe its powers run inverse to T-Levels. Why else would old guys pursue things like Harleys®, Vespas®, boats, RVs and/or Trophy-Wives? Could it be that there are sirens out there luring us with their song?

The Siren, oil on canvas, Leeds Art Gallery

[I wish I could remember which humor-blessed person commented on a guy's not-so-lovely Trophy Wife, "She obviously wasn't the First Place Trophy."]

My Amazing-Missus has lovingly tolerated my adventure seeking for many years and several pursuits: Huge career change, Moving our young family to a tiny, wonderful community in western Oklahoma, a sailboat, a Vespa (as long as I wear my helmet and florescent green vest), and now--drum roll--an Airstream® travel trailer.

It's not actually the old geezer RV life that is appealing to me, in fact that's a stereotype I want to avoid completely. You know the image: old guys in the black support socks and those one-piece jump suit things, comparing the sizes of each others holding tanks, bragging of how many slide-outs their rig has.

I'm sorry if I may have offended some with my characterization, but hey, if the velcro-close SAS® fits, wear it. The fact is some of those guys are heroes of mine.

For me, it's answering the call of the open road in an iconic, classic, silvery piece of art. For now, it's simply in the exploring the possibilities stage: Googling, reading blogs, lusting after the life of the adventurous "full-timers." Yes, there are people who have sold all and are living full time in an Airstream travel trailer.

When I first mentioned this to my Amazing-Missus, I'm surprised she didn't say, "Have you ever thought about looking for a trophy wife?" But no! We loaded in the car and made a six-hour road trip to walk through brand new, shiny, Airstreams!

Now I know why hardcore Airstreamers refer to "SOBs." They speak of their beloved icons and then the class of all other RVs as "Some Other Brand." Airstreams rise to the level of having a mystique that extends way beyond the physical thing. And as happens with these types of phenomena, followers take on a cult-like persona. Pass me the Kool-Aid®.

In my Airstream fantasy, our quest starts sooner rather than later, after all, I'm not getting any younger. I quickly learned, however, that my dream-stream exceeds the cash-on-hand. And I don't like the idea of going in to debt for expensive toys; OR, is this an investment in the journey of a lifetime. Let the justification begin.

Stay tuned for more… In the meantime, What does your current mad adventure look like?