I find solace in speed.
Don’t get me wrong though; I am not a bad driver. I don’t crank the accelerator just to see what happens. I don’t take unnecessary risks. I’ve never ever been in an accident, even a minor one.
But there is something in speed that I can’t get enough of.
It all started when I was very little. My father and I used to go to long drives together in his motorcycle. I liked these rides so much that I begged my father to take me to school on his motorcycle even though a bus was available.
In fact, I liked motorcycle rides so much that I’d always choose a two-wheeler over a four, no matter how cold it was. Riding in the wind was one my favorite things.
But then things changed and we got a car. Motorcycle rides became less frequent. I got older. I forgot what I liked and what I didn’t. Adolescence is a confusing time. It tears apart everything you know about the world and expects you to find yourself in the mess it leaves behind. Needless to say, I had forgotten how much motorcycle rides meant to me.
And then came the day when I got my own scooter.
It took me about one month to master the basic driving skills. I got my license.
And then I met my childhood friend Speed again.
There was something in the air that drew me to speed. No, it wasn’t the fun of the race or the thrill of the chase. It was the wind.
At speeds of a 100 kilometers an hour, the only things you can hear is the wind, the engine, and your own beating heart. The only thing you see is the road ahead of you. The only things you feel are the cold kisses of the sensuous wind. The only thing you taste is the adrenaline that pumps through your veins.
There is something in the air. She binds you in her arms and makes sure you listen to her and only her, feel her and only her, taste her and only her, see her and only her. She takes your hair and plays with it. She demands your full body, but your brain isn’t numbed by sexual desire. The blood is still there – you can still think.
And the mind becomes suddenly clear, unadulterated by grief, greed, or lust.
It’s like attaining nirvana. All of your senses are blocked and you’re left alone to your thoughts. You then finally know what is meaningful to you and what is not. It’s a feeling only a well timed orgasm can ever replicate.
At speeds of 100 kilometers an hour, I finally let go of my haunters and my inner fears. I finally know what I like and what I don’t. A veil is suddenly lifted, and I can see everything much clearly than ever before.
I can’t ride on forever, but I can feel myself changing with every twist of the handle.
And that is why I find solace in speed.
Pens and Keys 