This girl is on wheels

I have to confess that despite the short distances I have been missing my driver's license (technically I do have the international one, but regardless I have to be 18 to drive a car here... key word: car).  There are a few places I go that really are a little too far to walk-- by which I mean twenty minutes downhill-- and while the majority of my hangouts are only a maximum of ten minutes by foot the Italians have a rather different view on what is a reasonable walking distance and tend to refuse to let me go back home without wheels.  Regardless, the need to keep getting rides was getting me a bit down.
I don't know how closely anyone is reading this, but about 96 words ago (I counted) I pointed out that my license isn't valid for cars because I have not yet reached eighteen years of age. I have, however, reached fourteen, which is the required age for a motorized scooter.  After a good bit of discussion with my parents, my mother and I headed out to our local motor club to scout out prices.  The new ones were a bit pricey (but b.e.a.u.t.i.f.u.l.) but a flyer hanging up caught my mother's eye. "Hey look, that one looks--"
"It's pink."
"But it has two seats... when you turn 18 you can drive other--"
"It's pink!"
"It's not that expensive eith--"
"It's PINK!"
...
Long story short, my mother talks to the store owner talks to the motorino owner, who, turns out, has been trying to sell for a while and will give us an even better price.  I look at it skeptically but by the time we get home (with an appointment set to check it out) convince myself how awesome it will be to be the only one with a pink scooter and how cute I'll look on it.  My dad has a fit of hysterics.  My siblings don't react because we don't tell them.
After a rather challenging first drive on flat tires in a tiny lot (with my mother looking on and cracking up, and Florence looking on after we let her in on the secret) and verifying that it was in fact pink-- not just tinted but a true powder pink-- we settled on a price and date.
A couple of days later we met up in the parking lot of the driving school; while I already have a license, the title change also occurs there. Twenty minutes later, the motorino was ours, as well as a new license plate.  There was just one problem: the old owner had left it up in Todi.  This might seem perfectly convenient, but... well... I had only driven the thing once and that really didn't count as driving.  The last thing I wanted was to jump on my very new, very distinctive scooter right there in the middle of town (in the middle of the afternoon in the middle of beautiful weather) where all of my friends could see me.  I cringed.
 Cinzia-- who now that all was said and done could quite easily have given us the "hasta la vista, baby"-- smiled understandingly and offered to zip up there and bring it back down for us. "Oh, give me the tag and I'll go ahead and put it on for you while I'm at it."  My mother and I headed over to a nearby large parking lot to wait.
Twenty minutes later we got a call.  It was Cinzia, reassuring us that she hadn't stolen it back but it was a little more difficult to get the tag on than she had anticipated.  She was going to do it though, no worries.
A little bit later we heard a "vroom vroom" and sure enough there was my baby being driven by Cinzia's twenty-something son-in-law.  Turns out that they had ended up buying a new mount for the tag (but she wouldn't let us pay her back), but everything was good now and after a couple of circles around the lot I was ready to hit the road.  Well, not the roads in Todi where people could actually see me, but some of the country at least.
We waved goodbye to Cinzia, who promised that if she was ever out and about would give us a call so we could go get coffee together, and set off, me in front and the 500 behind.  It was a bit interesting since I've never actually bothered to learn the roads outside of Todi (although in my defense I rarely leave the town-- why would I?), but after a couple hours of cringing and covering my face every time a car passed I was feeling great-- free!!!-- but tired, so we headed home.  Ashley arrived to open the door to the courtyard right as I got there and her face was quite a sight!
I, of course, took a picture immediately of my baby sitting there sweetly in the courtyard-- my private parking lot-- and sent it out to a couple of friends.  By the time I got down to scouts an hour later just about everyone had heard the news and was quick to congratulate me.  One looked at me and said, "Oh, so that was you I saw this afternoon outside of Todi! I thought it was!" Great.
The next day at school I get in and am immediately accosted by a classmate. "Wait, do you have a pink motorino? I could have sworn I saw you driving around the country yesterday!" "...yes, you weren't supposed to see me though... "  First period starts and I hear my name.  I look over and see a friend miming a motorcycle with a question in her face.  Yes, yes that was me you saw.  Sigh.  Break: "I didn't know you have a motorino!  But I saw you on it yesterday!" Yes.
The point at which I knew definitively that the plan to avoid being seen had failed miserably occurred when I got home and my elementary-school brother informed me that one of his classmates had asked him if it was in fact his sister on the pink motorino earlier.  I don't even know this kid! Small-town life, what can I say?
I am, however, loving the independence and ease with which I can get around now.  That very day I drove to a friend's house, volleyball, and the church with absolutely no hassle.  YES!
Side note that I couldn't complete this post without: after meeting up with a friend and his parents at the church that night we decided to go out for a gelato together. The gelateria is just down the street (maybe 50 meters) from our house, but our courtyard doors were shut so I temporarily parked my motorino in the piazza just outside of the door while we went to get dessert.  By the end of the evening I was exhausted and really didn't feel like pulling into the courtyard (which has a nasty step up-- and after all it was really only first real day of driving the thing), so I tried to get my friend to do it.  He told me to drop dead (he typically encourages me to do everything I can myself), but just then another classmate walked up.  I handed him the keys and pointed to the courtyard.  He drove it in just as my mother, with a rather bemused face, walked out for a midnight stroll.  After reassuring her that everything was great and that I would not always, as she put it, "get the boys to do the dirty work" I bade my friends goodnight and was left to reflect on how many American boys would be willing to drive a powder-pink scooter. 

PS photos coming

P.S. From Alexandra:  When I was in Pianegiani getting our insurance (yes, that's where I met the agent to pay & sign for the policy), I asked whether Eleanor needed a permit to drive and park in centro.  The agent said she didn't really know, and then said suddenly, "Hey, Francesca!" Over came a lovely woman in uniform, at which point Mary (the agent) asked her about the permit.  The answer was negative; after the woman moved away, Mary told me that she is our local chief of police.  I guess if Eleanor ever gets a ticket, we can appeal?