From: My Mother, although my Father had some small part.
A Vespa is a beast. I remember when my cousin let me try his own. I was 14 (underage and without an helmet). He told me how to start moving. I started and after one second I was outside the town and in the countryside. I tried to brake with the clutch lever (the brake was actually a foot pedal) and then I tried to brake with my feet. I destroyed a pair of shoes, but somehow I stopped. The end.
My father wanted to kill both of us on the spot. My mother was trying to calm him when she saw the ruined shoes and she just went crazy. I'll never forget that scolding.
When things calmed down it was my father who actually wanted to properly train me, but I was literally too scared. It took years before I climbed on "something with two wheels and an engine" again, and still today I don't like to ride motorcycles of any kind. I just get nervous.
Of course, when I started dating the girl that became my wife, right on the first date she arrived on a Suzuki 250 and with two helmets , but this is another story...
Seek peace but keep your gun handy.
I'm not a complete idiot, some parts are missing!
“Illegitemus non carborundum est (“Don’t let the bastards grind you down”).”
― Julia Child