I turn the ignition off and hear the engine die as we trudge along from the highway to the gravel strewn path of the dhaba with the remnant bits of power.The motorcycle comes to a stop,I park it on its side, remove our helmets dripping with sweat and take the nearest seat available. We had been riding for close to two hours now and there was a gradual fatigue building up in the body.
The air had been hot, at times balmy and sometimes moist, humid and sometimes laden with dust from the trucks that overtake us.Travelling in a motorcycle is way different from being in a car.You become a part of the world around you and cant avoid the discomfort that sometimes the Indian summer poses.We have the buffs, but that doesn’t prove to be effective and we are indeed too foolish to be wearing half sleeve t-shirts.The sun proves to be a menace and it burns the skin.
There are times in this highway, you see a long stretch ahead which has curved towards the right in one sweeping long turn.And as far as the eyes stretch out, we see the vehicles,seeming to be almost stationery at that distance gradually moving further and away!
True, I speak of a lot of difficulty, but still cant prevent the grin.At times I look into the rear view mirror to change my lane, see a speeding sedan and the next moment I see that the car whizzes past me, whereas we trudge along. Its more like the trucks, you remain at the same pace, whereas the world around you changes.I dont shift gears and I rarely press the brake, we journey on.
