Driving and Riding

Some people stare at me when I say that I do not know how to ride a bike. Yes, that's true. I have never owned one and neither have I tried to ride one. Until Two years ago, I could not even drive a car. Trust me, this was never because I did not have access to any. In fact, all my friends right from school days had bikes and even while coming into college and passing out, I was around people who had cars or bikes. I somehow never developed a fancy for either. 

I do feel left out of a conversation when guys talk about this bike and that bike. I do not even know what a two stroke or three stroke means. If someone spots a Ferrari or a Merc on the road, its a WOW moment, but I couldn't be the least bit bothered. So what if it has cruise control. So what if you think the bullet is such an awesome machine. I am just not turned on by it. In school, I was pretty much satisfied with a TVS 50 that was lying home. I am sure my parents felt lucky, cause I was one boy who never begged for a bike when I turned 18. It did not bother me that my friends zoomed away on their Suzuki and Kawasaki, while I tumbled along on my rickety old TVS 50.

When I look back, I realized that all my life, my father had warned me about getting on a bike. It was totally forbidden. I would not even ride along with someone else. Of course, this rule was always broken. Just by the number of time he mentioned this, I believe I developed a fear. I believed that riding is something that is totally unsafe. Well, lets accept it. To a great degree, it really is unsafe. Majority of the accidents happen NOT because of your mistake. I don't blame my father for being so paranoid. He managed to ram his Yezdi into a bus and go under the wheels, a month or two before I was born. He survived.

My mother has never been so paranoid, but I am sure that the feelings she went through when I was in her tummy, was enough to install the fear in me. Yes, even before I was born, it was determined that I would never enjoy riding. Even before I was born, I was taught that it was unsafe and that is was something to be feared about. Something I strongly feel even to this day. I feel stressed each time I need to go out somewhere.

Since I have never driven or ridden, I spent a lot of money on autos. It was always frustrating to argue and haggle with them and give away huge sums of money to the ones that never deserve it. Recently a friend of mine asked me to take her unused Scooty. I thought about it and decided to give it a shot. It has been a little more than a month now since I have been using it. I still get worked up before I need to go somewhere, even if it is to the store close by. I try not to ride it too far of. That thing does not go fast, so there is no question of over speeding. Something I really hate. I don't have a license and have never thought of getting one.

My brother got a car a while ago and I am not excited about driving. Again I don't have a license yet, but will be getting one soon. I figured its a lot safer than a two wheeler. It's funny but I learnt driving in USA. A friend I was staying next to, forced me to learn. He literally did force me. I was glad he did. He took the initiative to literally drag me to the license office and take a license, which I got at the first attempt. Again, I'm grateful for that. Due to that, I can now drive.

At the end of it all, I am glad I am trying to drive/ride. I am sure that I would get over the fear sometime soon. I really am saving a lot of money over the autos and it saves me the arguing and haggling. So next time I am behind any of you on a bike and if I cringe when you drive fast, please understand. If you are sitting next to me or behind me and if I do not go as fast as you expect me to, please understand.

Run Mac, Run

I cannot run to save my skin. Blame it on my physique or on the fact that I have had no reason to run, ever. Few fast paced steps will leave me panting and I really cannot imagine how I managed to play hockey in school. Ah well, I was the goal keeper, but still. I don't think I ever participated in the school sports day ever. I preferred to be in the school band. I prefer a casual stroll any day, but what do you do when you have no choice but to run?

While in college, one of the most anticipated event every year is always the Heber-Martin Marathon. For the uninitiated, Heber = men's hall and Martin = women's hall. How much fun would it be to run along with the women and how terrible would it be if any man finished after any of the women. As always, only freshers take part in the race. The whole distance covered around the campus might be close to 1.5km. Now the women don't start the race with us. They wait in front of their hall, which is 500 metres away from the finish line, and they join in once the boys have crossed their hall. From that point, it is a race to the finish and every mans dignity lies in balance. My turn to run as a fresher came in 1997.

We were woken up early that morning by the seniors and were made to line up. Surprisingly, most of us were well dressed in our best t-shirts and shorts and really clean shoes, though it was just a race. We were briefed on the route and rules to be followed. We were warned of the terrible consequences that awaited us if any woman managed to finish ahead of any of us. "YES SIR", was our pumped up reply. "On your marks, set, GO". And we were off. Oh well, at least most of them.

The first few steps were important and I gave it all I had. After a few meters, the route turns left, away from the prying eyes of the mighty seniors. The moment they were out of sight, I stopped running. As far as I was concerned, my race was over. I thought that some of the chubbier and unhealthy ones might stop running, but I was wrong. The extent that some people will go to, to impress women. In a few seconds, the rest of the pack disappeared from my view. All except one. It was a dopehead, who was probably annoyed that he was awakened from his trance, and was probably still in his trance like state to even be bothered about the race.

With no one else in sight, the two of us decided to take a stroll. He told me that he knew a hidden path, through the forest that would bisect all twists and turns and take me directly to the turning near the finish line. Since we were inside the forest and covered by the thick greens, no one would spot us. Our plan was to wait near the finish line, hidden safely in the bushes and to wait for the runners to arrive. We would jump in and join the crowd and finish the race like everyone else. We ditched the main path and went into the forest. He led me through the dimly lit path. Well, it was hardly a path. We were just finding our way through the mess. Since we had a lot of time, we casually stopped along the way and admired a few flowers and plants. He even told me that it was a good place to grow some pot. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had a small harvest somewhere there.

We reached the main path, where we are supposed to hide and jump in with the rest of them. We crouched down and waited. And waited, and waited. Where were these people? After many agonizing minutes, we figured that something was not right. We came out of hiding and cautiously made our way towards our hall. To our horror, the prize distribution ceremony was going on. The race had been over eons ago and now we are in solid trouble. The pot head was least bit bothered. This is where it helps to be a little crooked.

Now it was my turn to lead him. We quietly took the road that leads to the back of the hall. We slipped in through the kitchen and on our way to the front, we stopped by at the bathroom and I took and mug of water from the tank and poured it over my head. I made sure that enough of it fell on my t-shirt to give it the sweaty look. Oh yes, now we really looked like we had been running overnight. We walked towards the entrance where the winners were being announced. The boys were busy looking at the women, and we quietly slipped in with the other boys in sweaty t-shirts, like we always belonged there.

After the women left, the seniors called three freshers who unfortunately finished behind the women. They were given a sound thrashing and made to jump into the piss pond as punishment. Well, that's whats happens when you try to do stuff to impress women. You end up floating in a pond full of piss. As for me, well, I won no race and I impressed no woman. Forget impress, I never even saw one, but I felt that I had won. I couldn't help but laugh when one mighty senior came up to me later and said, "Good job. Well run."