an autobiography of a Motor Bike
Not only did the lad move me in an inequitable manner, but he also sold myself to his cousin. She was only learning to ride a bike, so she wrecked it several times, scraping off my expensive paint. The child, ecstatic to have his own bike, tormented me for kilometers, often on muddy roads.
He never bothered to wash me, and my lovely body eventually got covered with dirt. The boy abandoned me in the rain. Erosion started to set all over in me soon after. My shopkeeper would be taken aback if he saw me now.I’m filthy and rusted. How I wish I hadn’t been so attractive in the past. The boy wouldn’t see me then, and I may have created a nicer owner for myself. Right now, I’m standing outside the boy’s house, unsure of what the future holds for me.
The first memory I have of me is in the hands of a company owner who was giving me the last droplets of color and joyfully proclaiming to himself that I would soon be bringing desire to several young lads and would be embarking on new adventures. The next vivid memory I have is of being taken out of packing after a two-day bumpy truck journey and being unwrapped and placed in a beautiful new, gleaming showroom Because it was a prominent sports store in the city’s centre, the place was bustling with bustle.So many youngsters came, looking for a two-wheeler which would provide them the experience of their first genuine road trip. The sideways bike ride through the roads signaled liberation, and this fresh blood was eager to experience it.I waited for a little boy or girl to come forward and stake a claim on me. Until one day, a tiny boy took his girlfriend’s hand in his. The girlfriend appeared nervous and apprehensive about entering a showroom of this size, but the youngster was insistent. He made a beeline for me and pointed his fingers in my direction. At Rs.90000/-, I was not really a cheap purchase, and there were far more realistic options on display, so his mother took him about, attempting to persuade him to buy another, but the youngster remained adamant.
After plenty of calculating and re-counting of money, the the boy gave in and made the payment, and I was loaded into a trolley to be delivered to their address, while the girlfriend and the boy followed me in a rickshaw. As his gf asked him if he was happy, I vividly remember the bright sparkle and charming smile on that boy’s face. I realized I was destined to be in the good hands of those who would raise and care for me with all his heart.