What kicks me to "kick some gass"?

Answers:

The effect produced by the union of two streams: 1) the utter nonchalance I bear at the antics of the wannabe racers vrooming around me, waiting for the lights to go green AND 2) the bewilderment on their faces on finding that 'Dude in White' gone in 6 seconds from amongst them.. All this on a 4-stroke 125 cc !

The look on the face of speeding yuppie with his puppy(GF) when overtaken by a babe-less biker.. shattering his ranks in the roadleaders chart and his girl's heart.

The helplessness of the honking junk-heap when he has to stop blaring his horn becuse he finds the obstacle on two wheels in front of him isn't an obstacle anymore. It is way too ahead to hinder his move.

The unreasonable belief of general pubic that puritanically dressed blokes should maintain their pre-historic velocity. Grow up guys! The chariots could have gone faster. Pity Larsen&Toubro and Gammon weren't there to lay-put such darling wide roads.

And finally, because the 1915 train won't wait for me. For 'eleventh hour fellows' like me, kicking gas is oxygen for a successful outing. So, with 20 minutes to spare and 15 kms to be covered, the accelerator should not touch base. The rush traffic volume is like a dis-agreeable father-in-law opposed to everything from taking a shortcut to overtaking dumb drivers. The cops? they are my chums. The random village bumpkin out on a city-tour adds to the thrill. You leave me no choice, humans. I am forced to become an abnormal biker. I got a train to catch. Ciao for Now ! 

Why my JOB mismatches my JABS(in traffic)?

By profession, I am a faculty member in the department of humanities as well as a research scholar. Both are rather slow, dignified and artistic engagements. My moves on the tar-tracks (roads) are swift, rash and artless to the non-discerning eye. To a racer, they are angelic.

My bewildered psychiatrist croaks an explanation- "Since your office bogs you down to a tortoise's trot, you seek to spend your urge on the unmonitored speedways". I dismiss her opinion saying, my movement among the cubicles echoes the wavy route I chart when overtaking turtles on the tarmac. She gives up for the session.

I faintly agreed with my colleague when he suggested taking a reverse look on the choice of profession. May be that my darting ahead of reflex-less co-waiters at traffic signals, doesn't match my senile service at the writing-board in front of a immobile class. May be that it is time to change. May be that I need to switch to a more complimentary JOB !! Well said, but NO ! Thanks !

It is usually the other way round. Students are supposed to overtake their slower Professors, on glitzier bikes, with a grin. It irks a mob as to why should a person at the lower part of the speed-chart leave them scrambling in the exhaust smoke. I don't overtake to humble others. They are most welcome to rev their machines to the point of no-return. Be Pearly gates' guests.

In the long run, I predict that I will slow down.. weighed with responsibilities and worries of related people, every time I scream ahead. Age, sensibility and care may keep me under 80 kmph.. Till 80@80..lets vroooooom ! 

A small step for Khan.. a giant leap for bike-kind!

Q. Why does anyone blog at all?
A. To let the world (in general) and friends (in special) know about one's exploits and experiences.

Being an ab(ove)normal biker, I'll be on the wacky side. Expect no pleasantries.

Some explanatios and information to kick off with..

A. Admissions (and not confessions) because these are not crimes; though they come close at times.

B. If you are from where I am from, you may need a pocket dictionary, nothing more.

C. I am not a biker by profession, nor is my bike a custom-made mean machine.

D. My psychiatrist is still researching on my riding habits.

E. I dont commute daily. So, my posts will be relative to the trips that I make, which may happen once a week.