It seemed like I was wrapped in a translucent sheet. Not just my head, not just my body. The whole road! I was riding through the thickest fog ever. For the past half an hour, only the occasional truck and my steadily ticking odometer convinced me that I was riding ahead and was not on the motorcycle version of the gym cycle. I was riding like a robot- throttle twisted to keep the speed at 50, freezing hands ready on the front brake, helmet visor partly lifted so that it doesn’t mist up and eyes on the lookout for vague shapes without lights. My motions were also like of a robot, when I spotted a truck- check rear view mirror, indicator, flash pass light, honk, twist throttle, again indicator, again check rear view mirror and then slow down. The fog showed no signs of thinning. Indeed, there were patches where it was worse. Goddamn fog! What a morning I chose to ride. I was shivering inside my jacket, teeth clattering inside the balaclava and helmet and hands freezing inside the gloves. The beginnings of a cramp in the right knee, though I had committed myself to ride for another 70 kms before stopping for a break. When you make a commitment, you stick to it. No matter what. Well, not if you have committed your life to someone in drunken reverie, of course. I did that with her. I was as drunk as a...well, as a drunk person would be (NO other object or species on this Earth consumes alcohol deliberately, so all metaphors and similes are moot). Then, when she asked me if I loved her, I replied in the affirmative. She wanted to spend her lifetime with me; did I also want to do that? OF COURSE! What followed was what follows when a girl and boy are drunk and madly in love with each other. What happened the next morning was NOT what happens to a girl and boy madly in love with each other. The fogs of alcohol dispersed from my brain...which reminds me, the fog on the road had still not cleared and I was still riding at 50 with no sign on human life anywhere. I am on planet Jupiter, and I am riding towards the Great Red Spot. Hell no! I am on Neptune. I always loved the sound of that name. Nep-tune, Nep-TUNE. So nice!
(Riding on the highways for me is second nature. Long hours of enjoyment, fringed with boredom with the mind jumping from one thing to another, all interspersed with moments of extreme adrenaline rush and spiking heart beats. Those moments are few and far between, and I would prefer to tackle such situations with a cool and clear head.....). Well, that sounded like a nice beginning to my ride blog when I reached home! I’ll sleep for a while and then start off in the evening. That is, if I reach before afternoon.
I checked my odometer. It had ticked to 251 kms. I had passed my 70 kms target a few minutes ago and I was supposed to stop for a stretching break. But hell, I wanted to get out of this fog, so another 20 kms. I’ll stop then. I promise to myself. I felt like a child psychologist, promising goodies to that little child inside my skull if it behaved well for a few more minutes.
Another truck light appeared. Alright, check rear view mirror. Nothing approaching. Indicator, ON. Flash light, honk and twist the throttle, feeling the beast between my legs (the one with wheels, not the other one) churning out and unleashing raw power. Then, I see another truck light in my path. I slow a bit, but see that this one has rods jutting out of its back. Crap!
You know what is fear? Fear is not when you are about to jump for an 80 feet cliff with a bungee cord tied to your legs. That is nervousness. You are nervous but deep, deep, deep inside your brain, you know you’ll probably survive. So, you jump. Fear is that split second before a crash, when you know that you are about to crash and you can do nothing about it. That fraction of a second of clear headedness is fear. You experience that once and everything else in life will seem easy to you.
The rods passed through my body like knife through butter. I was dead before I could
have any last thoughts.
