I didn;t finish the story.
As I rode away I notice the sniffling children cowering in the car that is still running with it;s flasher and attitude pointing towards my now vacant parking spot. My heart drops ... as I look down at the damage on my GT. Trying to recall the events that led to the scratches on my scoot, I turn out the one way aisle that I zipped in the wrong way and triumphantly scoffed the empty park, ten minutes earlier. I wonder if I hadn't noticed that he was turning into it and not trying trying to run me over as I innitially thought. I dismiss this, as I enter the roundabout and glance over at my upside down Y shaped flag pole, I notice how the ink from his toe that I had chewed off and used as a pencil was bleeding through the make shift T-shirt flag. I feel a little disapointed that you can barely make out the VESPA as it luffs in the wind from the passing cars that continued to flow around the size ten boot proping up my leaning flag pole. I can feel my cheeks swell and my eyes squint under my helmet as I realize that I am finally feeling the Vespa grin that you guys speak of on here
