Lambretta Lady #2
Well, if you had asked me a month ago, I would have said that the odds were against it. But here it is a month into my time as a Lambretta rider in a small redneck hockey town, and I have already met two people who have owned Lambrettas. It is also interesting and notable that they are both women.
I was getting ready to load up the trailer with Couchette for our drive down to Red Lodge. I had the garage door open and was in the back alley with the car and trailer. An older, british lady came walking up the alley slowly, calling “Minnie, Minnie”. As she got closer, she asked me if I had seen a black cat with a white speck on here face. I had. She hangs around here lots. As we chatted, she peered into the garage, caught sight of the ass-end of Couchette sticking out around the corner, and her eyes got wide.
“Pardon me”, she said “But is that a Lambretta?”
yes. yes it is. holy.
She proceeded to tell me about the days of her youth, growing up in South London, zipping around on her Lambretta, which she loved. She worked out North in the city, and had to go ‘Bombing through London’ (as she put it), every day. That is, until one particularly precipitous day, the oil was all coming up from the streets, and she laid the bike down on a busy road in Kent. As she waves her arms dramatically in the air, she describes the busses honking and the cabs honking and not a soul stopped to help. It was then she decided she had better get two more wheels, and bought herself a Morris.
And now she lives four doors up from us in Cranbrook, BC.
Loco.
I was getting ready to load up the trailer with Couchette for our drive down to Red Lodge. I had the garage door open and was in the back alley with the car and trailer. An older, british lady came walking up the alley slowly, calling “Minnie, Minnie”. As she got closer, she asked me if I had seen a black cat with a white speck on here face. I had. She hangs around here lots. As we chatted, she peered into the garage, caught sight of the ass-end of Couchette sticking out around the corner, and her eyes got wide.
“Pardon me”, she said “But is that a Lambretta?”
yes. yes it is. holy.
She proceeded to tell me about the days of her youth, growing up in South London, zipping around on her Lambretta, which she loved. She worked out North in the city, and had to go ‘Bombing through London’ (as she put it), every day. That is, until one particularly precipitous day, the oil was all coming up from the streets, and she laid the bike down on a busy road in Kent. As she waves her arms dramatically in the air, she describes the busses honking and the cabs honking and not a soul stopped to help. It was then she decided she had better get two more wheels, and bought herself a Morris.
And now she lives four doors up from us in Cranbrook, BC.
Loco.
posted by creativisualist at 7:05 PM
3 Comments:
That's a right kick-ass story Michael. I can almost hear the accent and all. Gotta love the English- what fun they are.
Great story, indeed. Amazing how things like scooter and VW Vans seem to open doors with folks. You almost think that if we all drove scooters or old VWs, there would be world peace.
I think there would be, actually. On the contrary, can you imagine if everyone had Hummers and Harleys? Eeeek.
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