#08

The ride back home is not the same as any other day of the week. It’s Friday and he’s on the lookout for any men in blue on bikes. They can be quite nasty if he’d ever being stopped by them. Interrogation. Questions and all. Even if he could answer them all, they will try their best to book him for whatever petty reason. But he’s quite sure he won’t be stopped tonight. He knew he won't.

Since it’s the beginning of the weekend, the highway is filled with many egocentric morons. Low powered bikes with their high self esteem riders are doing what they’re good at on this highway. Risking their lives and others. He understands that it is one of the most rebellious thing to do but when you are endangering the lives of others, that is just plain selfish. And stupid. This kind of rebellion is just not for him.

Exhaust pipes screaming, loud and deafening as these illegal racers passed him by. But within a few seconds it sounded like a flight of mosquitos when they are already at a distance. The further away they are, the lesser he could listen to the sound. Losers!

He’s almost halfway reaching home. Still on the highway. Glancing at the half full moon. Then out of a sudden, two locally produced cars, modified to be sporty, also getting their shares on the highway with some cheap thrills racing action. Boy, this is even more pathetic. More losers!

He reaches home safely. Parks his bike carefully. The grill is fine but now the sliding door is giving him some trouble. It won’t slide to shut. He’s tired and doesn’t want to deal with it at the moment. He just left it ajar.


Loser...