Liberating Elements.
With each consecutive "whump" a stretch of tree lined avenue wizzes past you into oblivion. Cranking back on the accelerator, you let 'er rip. Anybody who has never had the privilige of roaring down a stretch of open road, an unrestrained single cylinder molten metal monster as their steed can't understand the sense of power flowing through every nerve ending. Unlike slick modern machines, accelerating dynamically to mind warp speeds, speed on these beasts equates to stretches of the road rushing by almost alarmingly.
It started quite innocently. In search of an empty road on which to learn to ride, my uncle took me into forbidden territory. The 4 odd kilometeres leading to the shamshan ghat. Starting right after the engineering wing of the university, past the rumblers at the water pump, slanting past the rifle range, cutting across the sugarcane fields, before crossing a bridge and finally terminating in the shadows that covered the road for the 500 meters upto the gate of the shamshan, and the banks of the yamuna. Asphalted road stretching into the distance, bound on either side by a red brick pavement.
This journey began on a bicycle, graduating to a luna, which i stretched to the limit. Careening down the road at 60 km/h. Every screw rattling in its casing, on the bike and me. Only to become the single most exilarating moment of my life at the age of 12. Ultimately culminating in me hurtling down the same tarmac atop a 500 cc black metal mean spirited stallion. Only to come to a screetching halt at the shadows i imagined guarded the secrets of the dead. Time to turn around and hightail it outta there, only to come racing back as fast as i could manage until i had managed to quench my thirst for speed and the unparalleled feel of the wind rushing through my hair.
This need for speed rivals the strongest wanderlust, and in spirit compliments it perfectly. The biker in me eagerly awaits the day when a ride will only be as far away as a flight of steps, knowing this passion cannot be long denied.
It started quite innocently. In search of an empty road on which to learn to ride, my uncle took me into forbidden territory. The 4 odd kilometeres leading to the shamshan ghat. Starting right after the engineering wing of the university, past the rumblers at the water pump, slanting past the rifle range, cutting across the sugarcane fields, before crossing a bridge and finally terminating in the shadows that covered the road for the 500 meters upto the gate of the shamshan, and the banks of the yamuna. Asphalted road stretching into the distance, bound on either side by a red brick pavement.
This journey began on a bicycle, graduating to a luna, which i stretched to the limit. Careening down the road at 60 km/h. Every screw rattling in its casing, on the bike and me. Only to become the single most exilarating moment of my life at the age of 12. Ultimately culminating in me hurtling down the same tarmac atop a 500 cc black metal mean spirited stallion. Only to come to a screetching halt at the shadows i imagined guarded the secrets of the dead. Time to turn around and hightail it outta there, only to come racing back as fast as i could manage until i had managed to quench my thirst for speed and the unparalleled feel of the wind rushing through my hair.
This need for speed rivals the strongest wanderlust, and in spirit compliments it perfectly. The biker in me eagerly awaits the day when a ride will only be as far away as a flight of steps, knowing this passion cannot be long denied.
posted by Mane at 11:58 AM
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