Travelogue 3: Crash! Boom! Bang!

Actually it was mostly just crash. I’ve only recently begun zooming around on the streets of bloody Bombay. Illegally, as it were. While still gettin’ used to the street. With a hideous track record on two wheels (read that as about two dozen bicycle accidents, most of ‘em bad).

Nonetheless, i was rather surprised, for about 0.5 seconds, when a goddamn rickshaw-waala clipped the back of my bike as i was nearing home. This, btw, at a junction that has roads comin’ into it from five directions, yet no fuckin’ traffic signals. Authorities obviously don’t care that people have been killed here. Even when the gates of my school open rite out onto the same fuckin’ street. Did someone say safety first?

Anyway, gettin’ back to the rickshaw-mofo who chose to favor me with his attentions. The moron who chose to charge ahead through the junction, the fact that i was passin’ thru at upwards of 40 notwithstanding.

Bike accidents are freaky. There’s so much instinct and split-second reactions involved. Jammin’ on the brakes, even as i could feel the rear end slip out. Eyes closed the instant it was apparent that gravity was gonna have a lil joke at my expense as it brought my bike slammin’ down onto my left side. Hands and legs taut against the impact. Gritting teeth as my 10 foot slide under my bike against the harsh concrete road tore through my goddamn pants and more.

The unfortunate part is i couldn’t even pick a fight with the bitch. Priority went to evaluating the damage. Second pair of cargoes torn within slightly over a month. Beneath the shreds, around two square inches of skin missing from my left knee. With an inch long gash down the middle. Painful ribs. At least i had a damn helmet on. My head’s been beat up far too many times already. With obvious effects.

Biking in this miserable city is a dangerous prospect. People waiting to cut you down at every corner and side street. Some, like truckers, wont even blink if they run you over and squash you into liquid shit.

As things stand, i’m spending time hobbling around with a bandaged leg. Traveling is a beaut. Every bump in the road feels like the equivalent of being kicked in the nuts for my ribs, so wonderfully fucked over they currently are.

All my little crises in this new fuckin’ year have made me realize a lotta weird stuff tho. Back in my college days, i knew i had some kinda death wish. Always up to dangerous stuff. Ambling across roads, dodging traffic. Traveling on the rooftops of trains. Dare i mention suicide attempts. Hmm, i think i just did.

This accident is a glaring reminder that i haven’t put that “wish” behind me yet. If alone, i’m rather unstable behind the wheel? handles? whatever… of a bike. Speeding unnecessarily. Randomly resting my mind on some rider and then racing him, before moving on to the next one. Practically aiming for people who edge too far onto the road. Oh, almost forgot my fuckin’ road rage. Mouthing abuses to anyone/thing that gets in my way.

“Born to be wild,” anyone?