The Analysis of Persons on Two-Wheelers

(Day 106 of 112)

It’s simple. They should all be consigned to hell. Hot fires, pitchforks and run by the devil kind of hell. Torturing them might be a possibility too. I’m thinking Chinese torture methods. Maybe having them listen to George Bush talk politics. Anything that makes them want to jump into one of hell’s fires and atone for the sins committed on the roads of small town India.

I mean, driving here is like asking for trouble and begging for three more sets of eyes. It’s impossible to be a good driver here and follow all the rules of traffic because there aren’t any – good drivers or rules of traffic. I know this because I’m very sure that I’m one of 3 people in this entire place who actually uses the indicator in the car. I’m also the only one who likes to stay in the lane I’m in, and not weave around like I’m have a seizure or something. And when I stop to let pedestrians cross the road, they look at me like I’m the crazy lady from Timbuktu and am luring them into a trap!

Why do men on two-wheelers think, that by virtue of being on two wheels (and this includes everything from a cycle to a motorbike), they are suddenly endowed with immortality and skin that’s like armour? That could be the only reason for a) not wearing helmets, (b) weaving in and out of traffic like they’re in a video-game arcade, (c) piling on people on the two wheeler like it’s the roof of a State bus, (d) looking for my car to try their stunts with. Morons each and every one of them I tell you. And suicidal to boot.

And you know what scares me more than hitting one of these fools? The Fellow. I mean it’s his beloved car that will bear the brunt of immense stupidity let loose on the roads right? And I really don’t want to be the one behind the wheel when stupidity collides with the car. And I refuse to be the one to tell the Fellow about it. I have a feeling love will take a back seat then. At least for me.