Traffic Jam Sweet for Scooter Salesmen : Beirut: With the militia war over, people are moving freely again. It’s a ready market for the handy Vespa.

The Lebanese Vespa salesman is smiling. He has already sold six motor scooters, and it’s only early afternoon.

The snarled traffic in front of his shop is a delight to his eyes. His sales pitch is music to the ears of his customers: “On this scooter you can get from here to the other side in 15 minutes. Vespas hardly use any gas. And these fenders--if someone opens a car door and hits you, you won’t be hurt.”

The salesman, Nabel Sheik Moussa, and his partner, Hajj Khaled, are making money hand over fist selling Vespas to Beirutis long frustrated by traffic jams.

Indeed, freedom of movement has been the first tangible result now that Beirut is almost free of battling militias. It seems as if everyone is on the move.

The curious are crossing the old Green Line that traditionally divided Christian East Beirut from the mostly Muslim western half to see what there is to see. Merchants--who never stopped making the crossing, even during long periods of constant militia battles--do so now without fear of snipers or outbreaks of shelling.

Army personnel are clearing the old downtown routes of land mines. And the nearby Ring Road soon will be open. The city’s area previously was 10 square miles--but now Greater Beirut encompasses 150 square miles of coast and mountains, including several ski resorts.

With everyone using their new freedom of movement, the streets have slowed to a crawl. Enter the Vespa.

“Spare parts are available and cheap,” Khaled proclaims, “and at checkpoints there’s no delay. After all, there’s no trunk to have to open.” Until the Lebanese army took over the checkpoints last week, they were manned by militiamen who regularly demanded that drivers open their trunks for a security check.

Now, the little cycles carry bankers wearing neckties, book-toting students and florist-shop delivery boys. Moussa tells the story of one school principal who bought a two-seater Vespa so her chauffeur could continue to work after she gave up using her car.

The partners say that about 10% of their customers are women. Last week, Moussa sold Vespas to two nuns.

The departure of militias from Beirut has brought not only a change of transportation but also a change of speech: Moussa used the term “other side,” for example, rather than East Beirut. There is an obvious attempt to use the names of neighborhoods rather than referring to the long-divided Christian and Muslim sectors.

The various militias, whose names translate as Party of God, Hope, Progressive, Promise, Unity, Liberation, Giants, Tigers and Guardians, are no longer publicly in evidence. They will be remembered primarily as extortionists, drug dealers and thieves.

“No one will steal your Vespa,” says Khaled, making another important point. “It’s too small to attract the attention of the tough guys; they want Harleys.”

A bumper sticker seen on the Green Line--officially, now, the former Green Line--summed up how most Lebanese feel about the fall of the militias: “I like your approach; now I’d like to see your departure.”

But with “approach” and “departure” difficult because of clogged streets, there are those who think almost nostalgically of the times when shelling kept the traffic sparse and easy to deal with.

“Just one little shell,” said a foreign resident wistfully, without intending anyone harm.