The Vespa which fought back

Many years ago I was involved in driver and rider training at the Police Driving School in Salisbury, Rhodesia (now Harare, Zimbabwe).  I was intrigued one Saturday morning, during the weekly spit and polish session, by the antics of one of our new recruits.  My attention was drawn to this unfortunate soul who had just filled her Vespa scooter with petrol.  She had managed to kick start the ungainly machine and had mounted the saddle with the intention of riding it away from the fuel pump for further polishing and later inspection. 

Both feet were planted firmly on terra firma each side of the step-through and I could see that her hands grasped the handle bars with perhaps a little too much pressure.  The knuckles of her fingers strained against the ample flesh she normally exposed on her digits.

She was a big girl with a rather large posterior which African women have a propensity towards.

Although her attempts at riding the scooter were against regulations it became almost impossible to gain her attention by word of mouth due to the extremely high pitched sound of engine revolutions being produced through the, by now, badly smoking two-stroke exhaust.  In fact she was disappearing fast in the smoke haze.  She hadn’t been on her first ride as yet so was completely unaware of the ferocity of such a relatively small machine.

Unfortunately the normally docile little Vespa became quite agitated as the clutch was released, gingerly at first, then with more gusto in a kind of out and in staccato movement which produced a rather uncontrolled, jerky motion.  A look of concern was soon replaced by one of sheer terror as the Vespa commenced to leap forward of its, seemingly, own accord.

A high pitched sceam eminated from the throat of our erstwhile recruit as the by now rabid two wheeled monster grew in size and alactrity.  It suddenly tore from between her legs, raised its ugly head skywards and shot off down the road at high speed.  The rider had had enough of course.  She just released her grip on the monster and ran in the oposite direction vowing never to go anywhere near such a dangerous thing again.

I am happy to report, however, that after an extended stay at the driving school she did manage to get her licence and was often seen riding the station Vespa on her day to day enquiries.