The Last Ride - The Final Crusade!

It was a cold October night, the winter had already set in, a bit too soon for this time of the year but you could sense the dryness in the air and feel the chill up your spine. He had already done 75000 kilo meters and in spite of the cold, he was feeling the heat. “The first signs of something going wrong”, he thought to himself. He carried on nevertheless. He had to reach his destination. That was his task. He had never failed before and he was not planning on giving up now. Not just yet! He raced on as fast as he could up the mighty slopes that lay in front of him. Jubilee Hills, Banjara Hills, bring it on, he thought! “I am on a roll”. Tired, exhausted even, and gasping for a breath of fresh air, craving for rest. He hit a manhole. Ouch! Pain sore through his suspensions, but he carried on. He heard a click. He no longer knew how much further he had to go or how fast he was going. He only had his instinct to rely on. The night was cold and dark, no street lights either. “Damn the Indian Government”, he thought again!

Racing through the cold, he felt a rare thrill, a rush of engine oil through his bore and piston. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Excitement rushed through his frame, a shudder? No! His frame was trembling with the excitement at the thought of realizing this one last mission before he finally took a break. A nice long break, no missions, no bumpy roads, no crappy vehicle exhausts, just a nice long break.

A loud thud! Reality hit him hard, another bump on the road. This time he knew he broke something. His rear set cowl was on the verge of breaking into two. Minutes to go, he chuckled at that thought. As he rode on into the cold dark night, he was amazed at the surprisingly vast amount of pain he had endured all these days, and more so, today.

He could hear himself now, he was panting, Urrr!! Urrrrr!!! Urrrrrrr!!! Urrrrrrrrrr!! He heard an unfamiliar grain in his engine, he knew it wouldn’t be much longer, he’d have to give in to the cruel world of automobiles and automobile engineers around him. Long overdue, he thought and chuckled again. Luckily for him he did not have to go much further, he could see the last corner, the final bend in front of his eyes.

Another rush of fluid engine oil burst through his engine, another rush of excitement, he was going down in style, that he’d decided. He roared past the lesser mortals of his generation, his kind and then he heard loud sound, of something braking. He let out a wild cry. Kat!!! Kat!!! Kat!! Kat!! And he rolled to a standstill. Exhausted he turned to look at his master, he knew him well, they were like brothers. In a fleeting moment of glory, his lights blinked one last time before they shut down. He made it! He did not let down his master. He went down in style, if only for a moment! He knew he would be back again, he would rise from the dead, he would again sore through, past the lesser mortals of his kind, just like he had done on his final lap of glory. He would be a legend one day. And people will remember him, not his master, not anyone else, they would remember HIM, as

Pulsar 180 DTS-i
Definitely Male!!!


Post Script – This the author’s tribute to his still surviving, alive and kicking, well oiled machine called the Pulsar 180 – DTS-i, that has survived numerous bumps on the road, 75000 kms and 3 years of non-stop riding and still managed to serve him well !! The author has never been late when he was riding this bike.

Hail Pulsar!