Welly has hills, and is incompatible with non-hardcore cyclists like myself. In paticular, Brooklyn Hill, what I live at the top of, has placed an insurmontable mental barrier between myself and the collection of cast-iron drainpipes I call a bicycle. The idea of having to cycle up that hill after whatever expedition I mount kills the idea of leaving the house dead in its tracks. Doubly so if the expedition involves the aquisition of heavy items - liquid groceries1 'frex.
I determined that in order to have the sort of lifestyle I want, I need some sort of motorised vehicle. One that doesn't use any fuel, or need a parking space and one that is cute.
So having had my eye on a little red chinese Vespa (check out the userpic) knockoff for a few months, and having saved a sufficient amount of money, last Saturday I went scooter-shopping. Only to find that the scooter-dealer had loaned my scooter out to a friend for use in a movie. Mph.
So I have to be patient. Grrr. Scooter-man is dropping the price, as the scooter will be slightly used, and there is the possibility that the movie will turn out to be a perennial cult classic, and I will end up with a collector's item which would be cool.
 I mean milk. Thats right. Milk.