I love my Vespa. This morning she got me through a construction site via the sidewalk with gentle finesse.  She parks herself readily on the sidewalk where no car may venture, right in front of the local bakery where the smells of freshly made pain au chocolate lure me in.  It’s 8:30 am and the city it just starting to stir when Vespie and I have already had our first ride of the day.  Later, we will venture Barks and Fitz where she will once again occupy a small piece of sidewalk real estate so I can purchase food and treats for the pups, who gingerly remind me every time they defecate that they have been without them since Friday.  And after that, we will travel to yoga, where this granola girl will morph into a sweaty and very slippery pile of mush on her mat.  The ride home will be blissful.  There is nothing quite like taking Vespie on the ride home from hot yoga.  The wind feels fantastic on my newly cleansed skin.

For all these reasons, selling her is close to impossible. But I am slowly letting go.  After 4 days of avoiding an email from a man willing to buy her, I called him back.  I tried my best to negotiate, as I won’t let her go without a fight.  My dad says I need to be content with the price I sell her for, so I’m going no lower than a price that allows for a night full of sleep.  I’d rather not be up regretting my decision.  And I certainly don’t have to take the first offer that comes my way, but what other man would be willing to buy a yellow scooter?

I gave him a counter offer that made him wince, which just happens to be exactly half of what I paid for her 1 year ago this month, so I’m standing my ground.  After all, she’s definitely worth more than that, and the worst that can happen is that Vespie and I remain friends.  I’m being frugal in every other way, so maybe I can keep this one little indulgence?  We’ll see.