Matriarch on a Vespa

Estelle knows exactly what she has to do. She walks into her spacious closet, opens the secret drawer, and proudly puts in her no-nonsense teeth. Adjusting her knee-highs, she steps out of her room and into the kitchen. She grabs the heavy-laden box of her precious goods and steps onto the sidewalk and into the bright sunlight of that hot July day. Tucking the box into her bright red purse, she walks the counted steps to her beloved bike and climbs on board. To hell with daintiness, this was a time for action.

This bike has wings. Estelle never felt more alive than she did with the bike humming beneath her. She punches it and is off into the traffic. Zigzagging with years of expertise, Estelle never misses an opportunity. She knows the streets like the back of her hand and has successfully gotten out of every speeding ticket she’d ever been pulled over for.

Time is of the essence now. Every second counts. She speeds past a semi then quickly darts in front of it to avoid a blue SUV. From there she pours on the speed. The miles go by quickly: seven, six, five, a big lazy turn, four, three, slowing to leave the highway, into the lunchtime traffic. Two miles to go through corporate zombies driving Beemers and Mercedes on their lunch hours. They hardly look up as Estelle gracefully passes through and around them.

One mile to go, her target in sight. No traffic, green light. Estelle is free. She and her bike become one and she glows with pride. Pulling into the parking lot she switches off her bike, and strolls into the building. She has arrived and delivers the goods just in the nick of time.

Estelle's marble fudge is a staple at the church bake sale--the congregation would be lost without it. Thank God for that bike and its speed.