I've avoided mentioning my Vespa on the off-chance my parents were read my blog. I figured I'd get a lot of grief about it, considering one of my brothers was nearly killed in a motorcycle accident nearly 20 years ago and is still affected by it. When my dad came to visit last week, I was pretty worried about how it would go, wondering if I should pretend it belonged to the neighbors and was only parked on our side of the column because we had wider spaces...
When my dad finally asked me if it was mine, as we were getting out of the car from sight-seeing, I thought "here it comes." I told him it was mine and he walked over to look at it more closely. I just waited for the other shoe to drop. After a moment, my dad says "I've always wanted one of these but your mother would kill me." I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I'm glad he didn't preach to me about the hazards, because we both know perfectly well what can happen. But I'm also sad for him that he has that regret. I don't want to have any regrets when I look back on my life. I've had a few, but as time passed they've lessened considerably in importance. My dad is 78 and he doesn't have the luxury of letting time soothe things.
I almost offered to let him take it for a spin, then realized if something did happen to him, mom would kill me. Not a chance I was willing to take. But I ride it for my dad as much as for me. Maybe it'll pass thru the cosmos and make him smile for no reason one day.
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