Wednesday, October 22, 2008


The thrill of it…

Is in making a plan to not make plans.

Is in getting on a bike at 11:30 in the night and not knowing what your destination is going to be.

Is in driving a hundred and fifty kilometers with the fuel indicator on empty because your chilled out buddy thinks…Hmm the fuel gauge is probably broken. Probably.

Is in knowing that somebody up there that likes you, because your bike runs out of fuel, bang in front of a petrol pump.

Is in defying the dead silence by screaming like a freak of nature in the middle of the night as you pass through abandoned roads, with only your headlights to break through the darkness and dissipate paranoid thoughts of serial killers jumping out of the bushes.

Is in feeling like a freaking genius because you thought of the perfect thing to say to your grandma who called up at 1:30 in the morning to find out where you are.

Is in stopping 35 times in the middle of nowhere, when all the sane people are fast asleep, 20 of which were to pee by the way.

Is in cracking a joke and bravely laughing like madmen at each stop…for at this moment you believe that you’re the scariest FU*%@R out there.

Is in sipping chai at a hill station at 3:30 in the morning. Because that was what this whole trip was for. One single cup of chai in the freezing cold.

Is in priceless moments and laughter shared with your gang atop a hill, as you sit on a ledge and gaze at the lights shining below of a city that has refused to sleep just like you.

Is absolutely in returning home just in time to watch the sunrise from the only place in the world you would rather be right now. Your bike.

Is in smiling like an idiot as you reminisce about the night you’ve just had. Knowing that even if just for a night, you and your buds know exactly what it feels like to be a ROCKSTAR.

Here’s to…

The open road.

My buddies.

My brothers.


Posted by Shane


anantha said...

well written, shane.

Ubiquitous said... in arguing with a close friend the day you're leaving for Home and when your backs are turned and you walk in different directions, he turns back just to say loudly, "I'll miss you." in coming Home after four months to find everything just the same. in getting your Mum to make filter coffee readily at midnight cuz she knows you've stayed without it for four months. in stumbling on blogs such as these and finding a connection.

Even if the connection is defined by the same city, the same home.