The Motorcycle Monologues - II

My Dad always warned me against reading too many of those darned books. Sometimes, I really, really wish, I had listened to him. I mean, look at me. Just look at me. I believe I should have been born 20 years before my time, because that is the music, the attitude, the life that I can relate to. I cannot have a normal conversation with most people my age (supposedly)! I live in a Fantasy World where real life issues are over simplified, often misleadingly. Aaaarrrrggghhh!

But well, as it was, I was not ready to admit that things were too messed up for me to even try something. In my mind, I was The Good Ol' RD, out to get his life, back on track. All I had to do, was just turn up at Her doorstep, all dusty, gritty and dirty from the long ride, with that "I Am So Lost Without You, Baby" look, and she will be there, running into my arms, making promises of never going away, ever again! Wasn't it supposed to be as simple as that?

But first things first. Had to call my Best(est) friend first. My Mom. Always a good idea to take her into confidence. I remember, someone I once knew, told me that my whackiness was not really my fault. Its in my genes. And Mummy, just proved him right, all over again! She encouraged me to go right on ahead, and listen to my heart, no matter, how foolish it might seem to be.

Buoyed by this further encouragement, I think I was unstoppable. Fixed the brakes, fuelled up, stuffed in a pair of jeans and a shirt in my bag, and well, that was it. On my way to 'A Better Life', running high on faith and fuel, I was out of the city.

Mysore is 142 kms (give or take a km or two) from my house. Add to that a couple kms to her house, and well, 150 doesn't seem to be a bad estimate. All I knew of her house, was that it was near a college, where I had to take a turn near a 'Red and Yellow' flagpole, and then identify the house, from what I remembered of it, the last time round. Not very tough, considering, that I have already done this once, almost a year back! ;)

After quite a while, I was riding without those nasty earphones crushing into my ear lobes, from the pressure of the helmet. I was sceptical about it though, but well, it was fun to not be listening to something. Riding, for the pure joy of riding. The thumping of the machine, in sync with the beating of my heart, and the roar of the wind, were the only joyous sounds in my ears!

Just to kill the monotony, I started speaking to myself. It was silly scenarios, initially, like having to relate the most embarassing incident in my life, but pretty soon, I was thinking aloud, about alot of issues that have been bothering me, of late. Really, talking to myself (I know, THAT probably set new standards of insanity, but its RD after all)

And so it began, The Motorcycle Monologues!