Paul couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw a red Vespa parked on the sidewalk in front of Chili’s. No way in hell he beat me here.

Paul walked inside, flirted with the hostess and nearly lost it when he looked up and saw Jameson sitting at the bar, the girls hanging on his every word. Time to put an end to this.

“Little known fact about Vespas, ladies.” Jameson said, “They can get up to 60, 75 miles per hour, depending on the model, of course.”

“Ooh, will you give us a ride later?” the girls asked.

“I can’t make any promises,” Jameson said.

Paul was flabbergasted. “How on earth did you beat me here? I have a Dodge Ram, with a freaking Hemi. You have a lame-ass scooter.”

“It’s a Vespa. And there are three advantages to rocking a Vespa,” Jameson gloated. “First, the deceptive top speed. Second, I can ride on sidewalks to avoid stoplights. Finally, I never have to hunt for a parking space.”

“But I have a hemi,” Paul said incredulously.

“Hemi schmemi. It’s no match for a Vespa. Right girls?”