It would be nice to think that I wrote such a cool headline for this post. But, I did not. I found this line lying around on an old near-dysfunctional website, when I was looking for some inspiration for this post. Thank you, anonymous for your line. And now, I shall proceed to write what I intended to.
It’s been a fairly rough week. With a bunch of unplanned meetings, almost no reading time, barely any coffee and one too many cigarettes. And just last night, I received word that a friend’s father is in a very bad way after a cardiac arrest. With all of this (and a bit more that I intend not to speak about) I was left with only one option. My good friend, Jim. Jim’s about 40 years old, makes a stunning noise every time he wakes up and guzzles like a fish, nay, a shark. Jim is my faithful ol’ Royal Enfield. And I am a little corny for naming him.
To continue, since I’ve been having such a joyful week, I decided it was time for Jim and I to have a chat. So I kickstarted him, and off we went for a ride. He’s beginning to get a bit rusty, I must say. He threatened to die on me at least thrice during the ride – which was only about 50 kilometers. But he endured. And I’m glad he did.
It was again one of those freeing experiences. Nothing to worry about but the moron ahead of me who signalled left and steered right twice. No answers to answer. No herd to follow. No compartments to be fit in. No religions to bow to. No philosophies to agree with. No politics to disdain. No bosses to nod to. No judgements to worry about. Just to road, Jim and me.
Mr. Anonymous was right, indeed. Sometimes, all it takes to clear your head is a full tank.