Hey, wait up! You guys! Wait for me!

Ed and I have never been big Valentine's people...that is, Ed isn't a Valentine's kind of guy and I don't care enough to make a fuss. He usually comes through with a card and when we lived in Arlington we would always go to O'Sullivan's on V-Day; we never had trouble getting a table and I love their Drunken Turkey Gouda sandwich. Highly recommended.

So when I said, "Hey, want to take a motorcycle class Valentine's Day weekend?" it was the first time I've suggested a couples activity for Valentine's Day. Ed said "WOO" and my "Happy Friday the 13th" surprises included flowers, chocolates, pink champagne and a gift card for NIA classes. Karma works very quickly in my life.

Of course, I have no interest in riding a motorcycle, but I do have an obsession with the idea that I should be That Girl, the one on the scooter with the baguette and fresh flowers sticking out of the basket. And if I don't want a wimpy wimpy wimpy scooter I need a motorcycle license. So what Ed and I both know is that he was doing me a favor by taking this class. And the reason I chose this particular class is that I'd called the school and confirmed that they provide scooters as well as motorcycles.

Saturday morning we reported bright and early and during the first break the instructor took me outside to "try on" scooters. The first one, the Pink Lady, was way too tall for me. So was the second. Finally he pulled out a tiny 50cc Baja scooter, the kind you don't need a motorcycle license to ride, and I could just get my toes down on either side. Stupid short legs. We went out to the range and I was immediately nicknamed "Scooter Girl" by my class. They were all riding motorcycles named Stella and Ruby and Belle. Mine was named the Pokey Puppy. And boy was it pokey. Everyone else had their engines barely turning and I had my throttle fully open as I scooted at the back of the pack all afternoon.

But yesterday afternoon I passed my road test, so now I just need a scooter, a basket, and a baguette.