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When I grow up, I want to live in a little house in a quiet New England seaside town. I want a sun-drenched studio in which to write, a breakfast nook, and a really big tub. On mild fall and spring days, I’ll hop on a scooter and zoom down to my tenure-track job at the local university. And in the summertime, I’ll fill a backpack with snacks and a copy each of Us Weekly and The House of Seven Gables, and I’ll put on my flippy floppies and take my scooter down to the beach. And we’ll putter around, me and my scooter, and life will be grand.

We don’t own a scooter, but we’ve rented one for past weekend beach vacays in Rhodie. And now we’re thinking: Yes, we should probably-absolutely-definitely rent one for our BSD. We can leave the church and hop on one (shared) and scootaroo down to the reception. I can picture the drive already: It’s a twenty-minute, very boring, one-lane-suburban-road-type drive. Houses. Peekaboo views of the ocean until the road opens up into ‘Gansett, with sweeping beach views and our reception venue ahead of us.
I love it. We’ve fixed the idea in our minds, in case the weather cooperates enough for us to pull this off. I won’t even mind the helmet head.
Your car, his car, limo, trolley, horse? What kind of transportation are you using on your wedding day?
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