my bike my rules
Riding a bike is an exhilarating experience. Ever since the time I got my first cycle I have been on my own on road. From the simple BSA SLR, lady bird to the boisterous Honda Activa I love riding bikes. The thrill of skipping signals, the pleasure of carrying someone behind, the pride that comes with owning a bike. I love it all.
When i was at office it becomes too late at times. It’s 1:00 am, 3:00 am or even 4 in the morning somedays. Even in those wee hours I prefer to be on my own. I would rather trust my activa than rely on my office cab. My activa gives me freedom, power, independence and pride. My pride doesn’t allow me to go piggy backing on someone else’s bike. It is always me on my activa.
Is it always fun to ride a bike? I recently discovered that the answer is ‘no’. Because I could ride, I was a driver for my mom’s shopping; I have to drop my sister at school when her auto driver does not turn up; I will be called by my mother for pick ups n drops. I had no better role than a mere poor driver. And I cannot refuse any of this.
Yesterday we hosted a function at our college. By college rules we are not allowed to take our bikes inside the college campus. But because of his function one bike was given a special permission. I envied it Cause I had always wanted to ride my activa through the tree covered college roads. Due to some reasons we had to go to a shop inside our college along with my friend and event co-ordinator Hema. She said there was not much time to go all way by walk and urged me to take that special bike. After much persuasion and struggle we got the bike and I was about to start ignition when Hema took the wheel and said sit back. I was not ready for this but I didn’t protest. The moment I said I had a totally different feeling. As the bike vroomed through the roads I started liking the ride. For a change i was riding without responsibility, without tension, looking around me in all directions like a kid, enjoying the changing scenes around me, smiling sillyly at people we passed. Felt Freedom had a different meaning altogether. Slowly I wrapped my arms around my friend and rested my head on her back silently wishing this would last long. Just then we reached the shop and my freedom was lost.
Originally published at http://thesprouting.blogspot.com.
