Road Huggers

Warm wind blew gently on my face, playing with two rowdy curls that managed to escape the little scrunchy that tied them all together in an attempt to get some order in the chaos. My blue scarf sashayed in the wind, wildly ecstatic in the newfound liberty. It waved happily to my fellow sojourners, announcing them of the unbounded happiness. A few cars sped past me, in a hurry to get to wherever the owners wanted them to, wobbling me in their aftermath. I did not mind at all. I enjoyed and was determined to enjoy every moment of the openness.

Jen’s orange scooter floated like a small colorful speckle much ahead of me in the distance. She promised to stay in visible distance and so far she has kept her word, though she was too far away for any comfort. Not that I needed any. The huge trees lined on either side of the road stretched out into two single converging lines of perpetuity, merging atop forming a canopy of comforting greenness. The sound of the wind on my eardrums danced to the game of acceleration and deceleration. The road ran furiously in the reversed direction, glistening blackly. I was happy and on top of the world. A sweet old Hindi melody played somewhere in the back of my mind filling me with rapture.

The orange speck swerved gently to the right hand side of the road and grew larger and larger as I approached it. I slowed down considerably and then pulled to the side of the road a few feet behind Jen. A small cloud of dust raised and circled me in celebration. A silver scooter and a blue scooter passed us. I waved to them as I got off my vehicle and did a little feat balancing the machine on the center stand. I walked up to Jen who so far has made no attempt to get off her scooter. She had a frown of displeasure that showed through her brown hair that stuck in weird patterns on her forehead. Fresh tiny droplets of sweat gathered on her thin brows.

“I hate to hear myself repeat, so I am asking for the last time, why don’t you put your helmet on?” she asked, her delicate frame misleading the firm voice that it housed, squinting to keep the sun out of her eyes.

“It is a scooter, for crying out loud”, I said, trying to convey displeasure to shut her up.

“It is your life, for crying out doubly loud!!” she said, calmly.

“But…” I tried to protest, but she revved up her engine, suggesting an end to the discussion. I scowled as I walked back to my scooter. I could sense her turn around and wait to see me pull the helmet from under the seat. And that I did. I was glad that she watched out for me, as a true friend should, though I hated caging up my head in the helmet and not let it be a part of nature.

We recommenced our journey. We were now the last ones in the pack, but there was nothing to sweat. This was not about speed. This was not about time. This was not about distance. But about freedom, about existing, about living the moment!!

The road forked and one half of it bent abruptly and disappeared into a thick forest of trees. The other stretched ahead for miles and miles. Jen slowed down to my side and looked at me and smiled at me through the helmet. I wasn’t sure if the smile was that of triumph or that of a person enjoying the beauty of nature. I smiled back. For both reasons. I sped ahead.

This definitely looked the road less traveled that Frost was talking about. It was a roundabout way to get to anywhere, so it was avoided by anyone trying to get anywhere specific. We barely spotted a car in our whole 100 miles ride. The road looked friendlier in this part. It was no more just a means to get us to our destination. It was part of our journey to wherever we went, which was nowhere in particular. My thoughts fell in sync to the rhythm of the droning of the bike, the muffled wind in the ears and the melody in the back of my head. I lost myself to the surroundings.

After what seemed like I-have-no-idea-how-much-time-passed, the odometer reading indicated 100 miles and my watch said 3 hours since the inception. If not for the scientific proofs, I would not have believed that we have been riding for so long. Even the two pitstops we took went by unnoticed. But once the figures entered my head, I felt thirsty and my arms started aching mildly starting from the shoulders down to the fingers reminding me of the detail that I haven’t really moved them much in the last few hours. I saw a blue scooter pull up on the side of the road under the shade of a huge sprawling tree. The bumper sticker on the scooter read “One Less Car”. I knew it was Dennis. I slowed down even though he signaled me to continue.

I needed a break too. I pulled up right behind him and rested the scooter on the stand. My throat was all parched up. I opened up the under-seat compartment and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade to replenish the spent energy. Dennis did the same. We did not talk for a while. We did not want to break the spell of the silence. Dennis is a staunch environmentalist. His other car’s a bicycle. He used his scooter for longer distances. He believed strongly in reusing and recycling. His large and kind face conveyed the love for his fellow human beings. I learnt a lot from association with him and I know there is still a lot to learn. He never imposed on anyone instead he lived by example.

“So kid, enjoyed your ride?” he asked, a friendly smile reducing his eyes to slits.

“If it was any better I would have died out of bliss”, I said and I meant it. He nodded in agreement. I stretched myself on the seat of the scooter dangling my legs precariously on the handle bar. It felt good to let all the various muscles – known and unknown – relax. The breeze by now has cooled down a little bit. The sun created piebald shadows on the road through the trees. I slowly drifted in and out of a sweet and inviting slumber.

A few minutes of rest did wonders. I was rejuvenated and ready for the long ride back home. The other riders have stopped by in visible distances, all of them resting in various creative ways. Jen’s orange scooter was close by. She saw me wake up and waved. I waved back. She looked happy. So did I. We both put our helmets back and turned our scooters around. The return journey ensued. Back to where the roads converged.