The Transfiguration of Natasha
Posted: Sun May 15, 2016 11:11 am
First, let me explain the title of the thread…
My wife, in her inimitable and gracious manner, who agreed to permit the conditional acquisition of the scoot, (namely, that I have appropriate safety gear and undertake a certified safety course within a reasonable amount of time thereafter,) is the sort that sees humor in nearly everything. I believe that has served her in good stead over the twenty-five years we’ve been married, because, as the Universe knows, I am far from perfect in so many ways. I did manage to get her attention, and hold it long enough for her to agree to marry me, in spite of myself.
My lovely bride has pointed out (with increasing frequency, it seems) that I have found many, many opportunities to ride the scooter, and she always laments that I am beginning to find myriad reasons for “practicing” and “familiarization”, probably because I seem to find the time take the scoot out to ride. Personally, I think getting more familiar with the controls, and gaining experience in riding, will make me more proficient and safe in the operation of the scoot, but what do I know, I’m only a mere man.
As the latest package delivery arrived at the door, my wife commented that I seemed to be spending a fair amount of time (and money) on the scoot. “Have you gotten everything for that scooter that you want to get yet?” is a common question in our household. Not knowing that I have many, many plans for improvements and alterations, some being as ambitious as changing all the body panels to another color, and some being as plebian as adding the occasional light here and there (always for safety reasons, of course!) she seems to be operating under the mistaken impression that there will be an end to the minor (and major!) alterations. Where she gets such thoughts is completely beyond me.
It has become a little more apparent to my male reptilian lizard brain that she may be coming to feel that I am spending more than just a goodly bit of time with my new scoot. This suspicion of mine became a little less unclear when she used the word “mistress” in conversation the other day, after I had told her that I was thinking about a new seat. (This came after she had caught me on the MP Motorseat website (http://www.mpmotorseat.com), reviewing the multiple options in style, shape, and coverings.) In my utter innocence, I inquired what she might mean by that comment, and she replied that she was sensing a bit of attachment between myself and my scoot developing.
To that end, she decided to name the scoot, with the possible intent of giving an identity to the nameless piece of gloriously beautiful machinery that has taken up residence in our garage, and thus focus her occasional irritation and mild amusement on something less mechanical, and more anthropomorphic. And the name my beautiful, patient, long-suffering spouse has selected for my lovely little companion, is “Natasha”
Now, I suddenly have this vision of a long, tall, dark, exotic woman in a trench coat, with a curl of smoke lazily wafting around her, asking in a deep Russian accent, “Have you acquired the microfilm yet?” which is neither an entirely unwelcome, nor a particularly unpleasant mental visual.
So, Natasha it is.
My wife, in her inimitable and gracious manner, who agreed to permit the conditional acquisition of the scoot, (namely, that I have appropriate safety gear and undertake a certified safety course within a reasonable amount of time thereafter,) is the sort that sees humor in nearly everything. I believe that has served her in good stead over the twenty-five years we’ve been married, because, as the Universe knows, I am far from perfect in so many ways. I did manage to get her attention, and hold it long enough for her to agree to marry me, in spite of myself.
My lovely bride has pointed out (with increasing frequency, it seems) that I have found many, many opportunities to ride the scooter, and she always laments that I am beginning to find myriad reasons for “practicing” and “familiarization”, probably because I seem to find the time take the scoot out to ride. Personally, I think getting more familiar with the controls, and gaining experience in riding, will make me more proficient and safe in the operation of the scoot, but what do I know, I’m only a mere man.
As the latest package delivery arrived at the door, my wife commented that I seemed to be spending a fair amount of time (and money) on the scoot. “Have you gotten everything for that scooter that you want to get yet?” is a common question in our household. Not knowing that I have many, many plans for improvements and alterations, some being as ambitious as changing all the body panels to another color, and some being as plebian as adding the occasional light here and there (always for safety reasons, of course!) she seems to be operating under the mistaken impression that there will be an end to the minor (and major!) alterations. Where she gets such thoughts is completely beyond me.
It has become a little more apparent to my male reptilian lizard brain that she may be coming to feel that I am spending more than just a goodly bit of time with my new scoot. This suspicion of mine became a little less unclear when she used the word “mistress” in conversation the other day, after I had told her that I was thinking about a new seat. (This came after she had caught me on the MP Motorseat website (http://www.mpmotorseat.com), reviewing the multiple options in style, shape, and coverings.) In my utter innocence, I inquired what she might mean by that comment, and she replied that she was sensing a bit of attachment between myself and my scoot developing.
To that end, she decided to name the scoot, with the possible intent of giving an identity to the nameless piece of gloriously beautiful machinery that has taken up residence in our garage, and thus focus her occasional irritation and mild amusement on something less mechanical, and more anthropomorphic. And the name my beautiful, patient, long-suffering spouse has selected for my lovely little companion, is “Natasha”
Now, I suddenly have this vision of a long, tall, dark, exotic woman in a trench coat, with a curl of smoke lazily wafting around her, asking in a deep Russian accent, “Have you acquired the microfilm yet?” which is neither an entirely unwelcome, nor a particularly unpleasant mental visual.
So, Natasha it is.