A bundle of contradictions

The other day I had to attend a job interview.

The venue was a good thirty kilometres away and it had been quite a few days since I rode the bike. I had to get the air pressure in the tyres checked and, as expected, it turned out to be lower than the prescibed limits. It is always a good feeling to get the bike's tyres filled up with compressed air, since the ride feels so good afterwards.

I checked the oil-level as well, before leaving the petrol-pump, and it was fine.

There is a traffic signal on the highway just after one leaves that petrol-pump and I had to stop there on account of a red light. As soon as the light turned green, however, I just took off with a grunt of the bike's engine. I love the way my bike's engine grunts and then sort of settles into a steady growl (I own a small Yamaha with a 135cc, two-stroke engine and sometimes can not seem to understand how those who own the four-strokers that are so popular these days, make do without the distinctive exhaust note that only a two-stroke bike can offer.). Of course, when we go beyond a certain speed the engine's sound becomes inaudible and all I can hear is wind whistling past my ears. It's an adrenaline rush that is very, very hard to beat!

I often wonder as to what could possibly beat the fun of riding a fast motor-bike. I think it could be something like flying an aeroplane like the one that Indiana Jones flew in the movie 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade' i.e. one with the cockpit open at the top.

Anyway, for a few minutes, I completely forgot that my bike's insurance policy had expired a few days ago and that being unemployed as I am, crashing the bike could land me in deep financial trouble, in addition to all the trouble it takes to restore the bike in terms of locating replacements for the damaged parts, as I found out to my chagrin the last time the bike and I took a tumble. I acquired some scars also, the last time, including some on the face, but then it's not as if I was a handsome hunk before that.

After the initial few moments of ecstasy, when the memories of the last road-accident did flash across my mind for an instant, I decided to control my agression just a wee bit, though not enough to spoil the fun completely (and limited the speed to about 85 kilometres an hour).

Later on, I was not selected for the job and the main reason given was that I was not found to be sufficiently aggressive (even though I fail to understand why on earth a Human Resources executive is required to be 'aggressive'). Perhaps I should have invited the lady who interviewed me, for a spin with me on my bike!