I remember my bike’s younger days. He was then glittering with shine and he smelled fresh-burned petrol. In his typical RX-100 tone, he thundered all through my salad days. Time and gas were cheap then. 23 years later, today, I have only pleasant memories of all those great bike trails.
My wanderlust has taken him to valleys and sacred places...to many beaches and beautiful sunsets. Together we have travelled to famed churches in Kerala... we have prayed prayers that God wouldn’t listen. Still, we love each other. In all those lonely motoring days, never has he stood still to tell me that he wasn’t fine. Moreover, he has never left me in the middle of a road to soil my hands and hours with a spanner on a flat tyre. Between me and my bike, we have always shared the best of us together and seldom the worst.
Like the faces I have failed to forget...like the blessed moments that I love to cling on to, my bike and me are inseparable.
Then, there are many pedestrians who have come forward to ask me if my bike is up for sales. What a strange thing is it to hear that! They do not know what they are asking. They do not know what they are doing. They are coveting another man’s property. “That is a sin, my dear friend!” I would whisper to them in my heart.