The speedo needle doesn't move. Needs to be repaired. think I have clocked over two thousand kilometres, but the tacho still shows 5392.6 kms.
Wants the good times to stay, I think.
The oblique droplets of rain hit my face at speeds in excess of 60 kph. Feels like taking a high speed shower, I think. Made a mental note of the thing: might use it for some of my obscure ideas.
"Oxygen" is blaring from my earphones. The false end, and the ensuing guitar. Don’t think I'd ever get bored by this song.
A multitude of thoughts cross my mind; they always do, but now- in this silent disturbance around me- they're more pronounced. Still can't get a hold on them, though. It’s like a bunch of kids shouting in the class; the moment teacher turns from the blackboard, everyone goes quiet. Poor teacher gets to catch no one, and the children continue their antics the whole day.
But the thoughts rest slowly. they reduce the intensity of their interruption; slowly, but surely, the mind falls in line with the surroundings, and it is hard to believe one was worrying about so trivial a matter like the sit-down given by a Project Lead for asking leave during Diwali.
Life, indeed, is a Ride.