Farewell, my friend.

After 28000km, 3.5 years, 20 services, weekly washes, countless rides, mountain peaks, densest forests, greenest fields, exciting roads, beautiful pictures and pleasant memories came a day when I had to part company with my beloved friend.

I worked hard for well over a year to prove something to myself and to the world. In the end, I achieved it and got my bike as a reward. I had to wait 6 long months for my bike to be conceived and delivered to me. The wait was mixed with curiosity, excitement, frustration and even depression, but it was worth every second. It was one ‘pleasant’ summer evening that I got my first chance to swing a leg over my friend’s saddle. A crowd of onlookers had gathered to watch the spectacle of ‘the kid and his new toy’ and I went straight at the kickstarter and immediately stalled it. I repeated the same process a couple of times before my new found freedom revved it engine and idled steadily. That day was also the farewell to my another bike [a 1986 Suzuki AX100] which made way to accommodate its next generation.

The bonding between my bike and myself was intense. We were not a rider and his motorcycle, but a warrior and his stead. We talked to each other, understood each other’s likes, dislikes, whims and fancies. Several bikers have names for their bikes and consider them equal to their babies, but I considered my bike as a part of myself, an extension of my body. One doesn’t give separate names to a part of his body. We fitted each other like a hand and a used leather glove. I felt the pain of a scratch, a ding or a bump more on my bike than on myself.

As the responsibilities and rewards of my cubicled life grew upon me, the time I spent with my bike kept dwindling. But biking was a pleasant excuse to break away from it all. A weekend ride to a peaceful place, with the wind on my face, away from the hustle and bustle of a metropolis would invigorate and recharge my senses. I loved planning for longer trips but never got to execute one. Parental restriction and offspring obedience, if that can be called bad, became the regular ‘vetoer’ of all plans. I loved to explore interior Tamil Nadu, Northern Kerala, hilly Karnataka all by myself. I even had some secret plans for North East India. May be, someday, I will get a chance to do all these because I didn’t just dream about them, but fantasized about them. Somehow, I did not have any fascination for Khardung La and Marsimik La.

[Refer my blog for some of my travelogues]

When my bike was not playing the tourer, it served as a workhorse. It took all the rigours of the city commuting in its stride. It has even carried many septagenarians in comfort.

The year 2005 separated me from several wonderful people, some of whom I may never meet again. Some went to the different ‘corners’ of this spherical world; while a few, out of this world. My bike was my only consolation and it was ever ready to respond to my call for a ride. It never let me down, never.

The birth of 2006 had some changes to my immediate life, the changes that could potentially part company of my bike. Then I did something unexpected, posted an advertisement for my bike. There were many forthcoming buyers, not surprising as they were in commensurate with the condition of the bike. But I chose to hand it over to a person with whom my bike will feel at ease, where it will have a comfortable life.

On a Friday the 13th, I started my bike for one last time with a gentle kick and it purred to life and settled in an idle. I passed my bike to its new owner who was gleaming with joy at his new acquisition. My entire family watched and waved good bye to my friend as I stood helpless falling in line with practicality. As the bike revved with its signature exhaust note and moved away from me, I stood without blinking an eyelid lest I should miss a frame in the last shot. The new owner waved goodbye to me with the joy of a ‘just married’ couple.

My eyes followed the bike’s every movement till it rode into the horizon in the East and was visible no more. I turned away with a heavy step, without a tear in my eye and packed my bags to head West in an iron bird that would carry me to the Land of the Free. But the pleasant memories of my bike will reside in me for eternity.