Mind my Vespa...

... said the bloke who was about to enter the art materials shop. I stood like a security guard, pacing around the Italian machine, but of course never touching it. After half an hour I checked inside the shop, but the swarthy gent I'd spoken to was nowhere to be seen. I put a small notice on the scooter's seat.

 'Please do not remove this Vespa, it belongs to a big fellow with a ponytail.'

Later on I thought, what the hell, and rode it along the canal towpath.