They happen. Every time we go out, the risk of having a motoring related accident comes into play. Doesn’t mean I won’t go out though.
Oh no. I will. In rickety contraptions this fiend maintains with his own three hands. Namely, an accident prone Honda CG-125 motorbike and a “Please get me there and back safely” Mitsubishi Lancer from 1991.
Actually, both are quite nice. The motorbike is a hoot to ride and fast, nippy and sure footed. It does tend to get crashed into – specially when I’m on top. The car is – well, its fast, comfy and the air conditioning works. Oh, and did I mention it has a very nice boom boom stereo that manages to shake a few windows?
The motorbike was out of the showroom when I bought it. I’ve managed to crash it once, and get it crashed into quite a few times. (Read: I’ve lost count of how many times). Net result is – its a bit of a wreck now, six years later. The chassis is unstable, the front end is unstable, so’s the rear end, it grinds a few gears and the chain rattle is incessant. I still manage to ride it though – to the rev limiter.
The car was bought from a careful old man who had it in a pristine condition – as soon as it came into my hands though, people started crashing into it. Er, and yes, I crashed it once too. At least once is forgivable, right?
Apparently I’m not the safest chap to be around with. Things tend to crash into me, but I had no idea of the magnitude of my abilities as a moving disaster until last week. I got crashed into, while on my motorbike, by a 20 ton, out of control, passenger laden bus. Yes, you read that right. A friggin’ 20 TON, 10 wheeled bus! No direct crash, though – otherwise I’d have been the very much late and unlamented Shiraz. It hit a small compact, which got stuck in its front. Next was me, standing in a corner and minding my own business, hit by a glancing blow from that itty bitty compact which effectively decimated the motorbike and left me with a broken heart at the mournful loss of my beloved two wheeler and a leg that felt as if I’d broken every bone in it – no surprise, my knee got caught between the tank and the car that hit me with the tank being the worse for it. I didn’t pay much attention after that but the next thing I noticed after picking the motorbike up and hopping about on one leg like a stork was quite a few more wrecked cars, motorbikes, a Rickshaw or two and then a few more motorbikes. A few minutes later, after experimentally flexing my leg a bit, the relief that my motorbike was still rideable and my leg was still in one piece without broken bones, I made off home.
The parents were not amused. Net result – the bike is now officially banned. So now I drive the car to work, get caught in traffic and generally curse the asshole driving the bus a lot for landing me in this predicament.
One hopes that my parents will eventually realize that I’m to be trusted and will turn up alive regardless of the tendency towards getting crashed into, like a bad penny.