All I Want Is All I Need (Part 6)

I am a walker. Honestly, I love walking- rain or shine, hot or cold, day or night, absolutely smashed or sober as a bird- I derive so much pleasure from walking. Listening to and observing the sights and sounds of the city, absorbing- things I think most of us take for granted. And the whole notion of the taxi- forget about it. I'll pass on paying to get chubs, thank you very much.

There is, however, one machine that, if I were to suddenly to come into possession of it (my upcoming birthday, perhaps), might alter my perception of walking...

I have wanted a Vespa for ages. And I figure with my lack of skills behind the wheel of an automobile (I'm a fun driver, if not safe), perhaps a Vespa would be a good jumping off point? There is just something so wonderfully cosmopolitan, so very European about driving a Vespa. Two summers ago, while shopping in Paris, I was lucky enough to witness some young French aristocrat, in a shawl-collar cardigan over a v-neck tee, motor his navy blue Vespa to the entrance of Le Bon Marche and nonchalantly stroll into the department store to do some serious damage, no doubt. Ah, yes...how I envision myself motoring down Bloor to Holt's, creepers similarly gawking at my vision of nobility as I nonchalantly stroll inside to find more objects to add to All I Want Is All I Need...