Here’s the deal, the 411, the skinny; for the margin of my adult life, I have been an independent woman.  By the way, I can’t help but break out in Destiny’s Child, Independent Woman right about now.  You know, the catchy, “All the woman who are independent, throw your hands up at me…”  Anyway, getting off topic.  Once upon a time, I was an independent woman, a woman that rarely found herself contingent on others and would do her own thing at the expense of no one else.  Fast forward to cancer status and I have become a grimly dependent, reliant individual.

Doctor’s appointments, chemo treatments and everything that falls in between has been the regression of my independence.  Family and friends have united around me to partake in being undeviating supporters.  I have a posse, a team if you will and while I am appreciative, it does not help the demise of my liberations.  Adding insult to injury, my means of transportation, my poor mini cooper, has been out of commission for the last two months.  Nevertheless, my enslavement to depending on others has become even more pressing.

While my mini now serves as a paperweight, I got a wild hair yesterday that I wanted to purchase a Vespa. In fair manner, I discussed my craving for my Italian wasp with Steve and viola, as of today I am a proud Vespa owner.  It’s funny how things align when you really want something.

Having never been on a razor, let alone a scooter or motorbike, we purchased the Vespa without delay and decided to just go for it.  After all, you only live once. My babe of a husband conducted the “test drive”, as we felt it would be the safer avenue considering I had never been on a scooter and just in case, we didn’t want to “break it and have to buy it”.

Once we schlepped the new toy back to my in-laws house, it was time to play!   At first I was uneasy, as this was unfamiliar to me, but once I strapped on my helmet and the easygoing directives of Steve, I was off and scooting.  Undeniably, it will take some getting used to, however it will be the perfect little whip to get me around downtown and finally feel some INDEPENDENCE.

This new purchase isn’t just a whim of a deal, it means that I can be independent once again, get back on the saddle and start doing things on my very own.  The Vespa is a symbol of regaining a part of my old self, my pre-cancer being and ultimately my freedom.  So, watch out Phoenicians, you have a girl and her scooter on the road!

Love,

Britt x