DINK-Related Bruises

I got a scooter 4100 miles ago. It's a little red Honda that I drive daily from one trendy "transitional neighborhood" to the next on my commute to Emory. Tonight, some friends invited my husband and me to Oakhurst (nearest trendy "transitional neighborhood") for an outdoor Jazz concert. I grabbed the Barnes and Noble canvas bag, loaded it with white wine and brie, and headed for the festival. Since I ride the scooter daily, I piloted this 50 cc crotch rocket with my husband on back. This meant that I had to rub my knees and toes against the oversized retro hood so my husband's 34-inch legs would fit between construction pylons and herds of roving neighborhood children. When we arrived at the jazz fest (headlined by a bluegrass band), I saw a woman exit a smart car to greet one of five-hundred white people camped out on the Oakhurst's trendy transitional lawn. I looked amongst the beige to find our friends, then I unfolded my Crate and Barrel blanket and eased my bruised knees into Indian style.