Once upon a time a beautiful little introvert called Brownie asked me to take a look at a scooter she was interested in buying. In part thanks to my knit-picking, but mostly thanks to her charm, we haggled another $400 off of the price she had already negotiated the seller down to over the phone. A pretty smile and a short skirt trump a man’s better judgement.
This is the story of a young woman called Brownie, her slips and slides on a scooter she named Peppy Tits, the night with her friend, and how they relate to my latest scooter purchase.
Before I go on I should describe Brownie. She was in her early 20s. She was a petite figure but with hips, a nice butt, legs she was determined to show and a pair of tattoos. Brown skin topped with bright brown eyes and jet black straight long hair. She had a dangerous smile and was inclined to bite her lower lip when the mood struck her. We’d known each other the better part of a decade. It had been a flirtatious friendship from the very beginning. Sometimes less. Sometimes more.
There were only so many scooter riding skills you can teach in the bedroom. Brownie repaid my patient on the road coaching time with cupcakes. Most of the cupcakes she baked came with at least one of her long black hairs in them. I loved her hair, but not in that way, so finding one in my cupcake was always one part hotness, and two parts disgusting. What do you expect from a girl who could barely commit to wearing clothes around the house, let alone care to motorcycle gear or a hair tie? Our philosophy was very, “F**k it, let’s ride!” We had a good thing going.
On one otherwise uneventful ride, Brownie rode Peppy Tits into a bump at too much of a lean angle. Brownie was sent flying. Just like in a YouTube video, the moment the rider makes the mistake, everything begins to play in slow motion. I watched as Peppy Tits swerved in one direct, while Brownie face dived to the other. In mid flight, Brownie’s shoe came flying off. Murphy’s Law dictates that in the event your shoe flies off in a crash, you must land on the shoeless foot, and break it. Brownie did just that.
Always eager to jump on and ride, Brownie wasted no time getting back on two wheels the following spring. By summer time she and Peppy Tits were flying across the city into the wee hours of the night.
One rainy September afternoon, a suicidal jaywalker jumped in front of Brownie and her steed. Peppy Tits – already wet, because it was raining – lost traction and sent Brownie sliding into her second crash. Brownie’s tights and short skirt were easily beaten by the asphalt. She was left with bruised and scraped legs. It could have been karma catching up to her for all of the scooter batteries she had killed over the years.
Late one night Brownie called me. She was giggling and asking me questions about hooking up. My mind was fired up for a ride down memory lane, but there was a sudden curve in the road: a motorcycle ride with someone else, which led to a bottle of Wray and Nephew’s 63% alcoholic rum, which sparked a random hook-up, which was followed by a hangover, which was worth it.
Shortly after, Brownie told me we shouldn’t speak any more. She had a long distance boyfriend who didn’t like what he had heard. She decided to end our ten year friendship to “avoid conflict” with her boyfriend. That hurt.
So what does a girl, her scooter named Peppy Tits, and her friend, have to do with my latest scooter purchase?
Well, Peppy Tits is a Vespa LX150 scooter. It runs on the 150cc Leader engine Piaggio developed. The same engine is used in the Piaggio Fly 150 I just bought for dirt cheap as my Canadian “winter beater” bike. Peppy Tits and my new scooter are siblings. They share the same heart. I named my new scooter Peppy Twat, in honor of a friend who earned my admiration. Despite being an introvert she never offered a dull moment.
Ride safe, “Sexy Bitch”. I miss you. Peppy Tits, try to stay out of trouble. Just, like, try.