SPEED THRILLS

The stage was all set. Finally, Jimmy was standing on the stage which he always dreamt to reach. His calloused hands were itching to do what his mind knew the best. He was running a silent prayer inside his heart and his eyes had shut down for those moments. He could hear his own breath even as the restless crowd was anticipating a new performance. Jimmy was oblivious of the crowd’s heat. His mind was by now focused at a distant point. The sweat beads had built on his brow as he concentrated hard. Throwing his flowing mane forward and back, Jimmy opened his eyes to the crowd’s frenzy and his fingers let the first of the sound waves go out of his Guitar. The crowd let go of itself as Jimmy let loose his Guitar and his band “Traffic Jam” exploded the scene on the stage. Bon Jovi was set aside as Jimmy opened up with a great satire- You Give Love a Bad Name. Jimmy’s mystical voice, years of practice and the desire to excel was now ruling the sound waves emanating from the big stage. The crowd had been pushed on their feet and ecstasy ruled the arena. At one point, Jimmy captured the crowd’s speed as he let them croon along with him. Jimmy was now their driver for the night and he had set a scorching pace for the evening.

The local FM station had called in “Traffic Jam” for an interview. I was all set for my cross-country adventure as I tuned into the station and powered up my Red Gypsy. The Red Gypsy was all loaded up and ready for the road jam. This was an unique trip as I was shifting my bag and baggage to a new town. The voluminous interiors of the Gypsy were loaded till the front and only the Driver’s seat remained vacant. The FM Station was now speeding up the tempo with Jimmy’s interview and some quality rock numbers.  I hit the highway and was pleasantly surprised to see it less crowded. The news of a Trucker’s nationwide strike came on the Radio and the highway became a F-1 Track for the lesser mortals.

Revving up the 1400 cc, I hit the throttle to its hilt. The fully loaded Gypsy was now in its full momentum and the empty National Highway offered a perfect foil for a speedy drive. The milestones were just flying past and I had now switched over from the fading FM Station to some great Rock songs from the Gypsy’s stereo. Taking a swig from the water bottle, I shifted the hood of my cap from front to back. The metal of the rear of the cap now rested on my fore-head and I adjusted the Aviator’s Delight-The Ray Ban for a clearer look. The Red Gypsy’s speedo-meter was steady at 120 Kmph and the drive appeared to be fun. The Sun was now at its Zenith and the nearing winter’s mild chill had disappeared quietly.

A small town was looming ahead on the highway. The road was as barren as the Nevada Desert highway. I had pressed the gas to its limit. Far on the horizon, I saw a State Transport Bus stopped on the side of the road. Suddenly, a cyclist emerged on the road and stopped his bi-cycle on the right hand side of the road and was chatting with someone inside the bus. The Red Gypsy had an ample of space (almost 3 Car Breadths) to clear the Bus and the cyclist. The power horns of the Red Gypsy were activated and all its 8 front lights including the hunting lights were powered up. The gas was eased and the Red Gypsy was now trying to slow its speed. The cyclist turned his head backward and seems to have acknowledged the approaching machine. The power horns were being utilized at regular intervals and I was now about 50 meters away from the cyclist. The speedometer had come down to a decent 40 kmph and the Red Gypsy was now rolling with its speed and weight generated momentum. 20 meters to cross the stationary bus and the cyclist suddenly pedaled up and turned towards his right.

My heart now sang an emergency and with one quick motion I slammed the brakes, lifted the hand brake to its hilt, turned off the ignition, tossed the key to my co-driver’s seat and plunged the 1^st gear again into motion. The Red Gypsy screeched into its halting and was now dragging. A thud and the front fenders hit the cyclist’s front tyre. He had a surprised look on his face as he flew and landed right on the Red Gypsy’s bonnet. The cycle’s front tyre was crushed under the Red Gypsy as the vehicle now came to a halt. I took my hand out from the window and held on to the cyclist on the bonnet as the vehicle lunged forward whilst stopping. He tried to break free from my grip and attempted to bite my hand even as I held onto him to save him from being run over by the Red Gypsy. As the Red Gypsy stopped, I came out and shook the cyclist who was by now dazed but scratch less. A big crowd gathered and promptly 02 policemen emerged from nowhere. I gave my version of the Speed’s thrill and the bus’s driver came forward to my defence as he had witnessed the entire episode from his side rear view mirror. I volunteered to help the cyclist by paying up for his damaged cycle. I showed the bus driver and the police men my speedy drill inside the Red Gypsy’s Cabin and the ignition key lying on the co-driver’s seat. The burnt out hand brake became my testimonial and soon enough I was back on the road towards my destination.

Speed thrills folks and especially when life is on a song. The adrenaline pumps harder each moment and the needles of the gas and throttle start going in opposite directions. The momentum reaches its zenith even as the highway appears deserted. The thrill of the speed clogs the brain’s thinking ability as milestones zip behind. However, each mission of speed has its waiting pitfalls. Obstacles can emerge from nowhere. They become visible from far but no one can predict as to how they will behave when they inch closer to the speeding life. This is the moment when the thrill of speed needs to be eased out. The throttle has to be eased and the needle of the speed has to be brought down to control the speed. Who knows when the obstacle lands on the bonnet of the speeding vehicle called life and only a man in control of the speed will be able to take his hand out to grab the obstacle and meet its challenge.

Speed thrills but not necessarily kills if the elements of speed are kept under a close watch. Do press the gas and let the needles of the gas and the speed turn towards opposite directions. Life, after all, offers its stages only once in a life span and the thrill of the speed are the greatest of them all. So, let the speed flow, keep the watch on the speed’s highway and be ready to control the speed to clear the obstacles. After all, the “Traffic Jam” is all about slowing down the life’s speed and speeds up the speed of imagination with its pumping up of the arena’s air.