Eerie Riding

Have you ever dreamt about a sound? It was a bit cloudy day, the roads were empty and I was pining, angry, mad, disgusted about several issues that were happening to me at that time.

I was escaping from my reality on two wheels, with old tyres and a very bad feeling. It was not misfortune, it was my own state of  mind which knocked me off the bike on that very corner.

The ground was wet, there was gravel, my rubber was old and my riding hard. A glimpse of a second and I noticed the lean angle of the bike was impossible to control, another heartbeat away the engine crashed into the ground with an unforgettable sound.

I had an eerie ride that day, alone in the emptiest road I could find in order to be alone with my own misery, and there I was… finally alone. Images of my entire life passed through my head as I was knocked the ground with my face. My helmet still has the scars of that day.

While I was drifting I noticed I was trapped, as the motorcycle was on my left leg, and I didn’t see the guardrail coming until the bike hit it. I was fortunate, I later thought, to have my bike on me, as it protected me from a possible amputation or even death.

My body stopped drifting all of a sudden with the impact, and the bike bounced up after the crash, spinning in the air on one side, and falling back again on the same leg an instant ago had been trapped beneath it.

The clashings stopped, and I could realize the engine was still running on my twisted leg, and the smoke I could see was the exhaust burning my pants. My leg was twisted in a very strange way and the first thought that came to my mind was a broken leg. I was in the middle of a corner and a car may have passed and found me lying in that blind spot.

I moved my toes, my ankle, and everything seemed more or less fine, so I lifted the bike a bit to cut my leg loose. That was the moment I realized my hands hurt immensely, I might have landed on my hands too as my broken gloves showed.

I stood up, lifted the bike and breathed deeply. I was all right, the bike was hardly damaged and the noise had gone.

Nightmares of the night, of the tank sinking in the asphalt and of that corner disrupted my dreams night after night for some time, until I repaired the bike, changed the tyres went to that very road again, to that very corner again, to ride it through like hell on wheels, once again faster than death.


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