Flying start

I recently have started using my roomie's bike. Last Friday was the first time I came all the way to office, a gruelling ordeal in itself, compounded by the sudden failure of the engine as I turned inside the security gate, when the clutch abruptly released as I was busy showing the guard my security badge. Since a security guard's business is to make sure people are secure, I think he didn't like that happening, and gave me a cold stare. Worse still, I managed to not start the bike again and dragged it up the ramp, at which point his gaze may have turned even colder; there was positively a hint of a frown. Undettered, though slightly low on ego, I human-powered the bike into the parking lot.

Day 2, Same place: Well, I am a newbie, so the bike stalled again. Notice how I knew by then that the word is "stalled". But with a solid, powerful kick of the right foot, I revved up (one more word) the engine again, and off I went. The guard was unimpressed though. Kept his stoic face.

Day 3: I finally made it. Absolutely no hitches whatsoever. Gracefully, like a swan doing a ballet, I shifted gears to neutral as stood beside the security guard showing him my security pass under my shirt, holding it like a badge of honour. As I put the bike into gear and whizzed past the obviously impressed security guard, I noticed the smile. No, it was an ear-to-ear grin, like the one the old man from the movies finally smiles at his deathbed, knowing he has trained his young student well, content in his legacy.

Oh, the ego trip. I felt on top of the world, figuratively, and not-so-figuratively, the bike. I never realized when I had already reached the parking lot and parked the bike. Then it happened. I was looking down at the stand, and saw it all - in a vicious and altogether different light.

My fly was open.