Yesterday as I was getting Stallion’s rear tyre swapped at the tyre shop, this aged man walked up to me started a conversation. I learned that he was a biker and had owned a number of Triumph, BSA, Norton motorcycles apart from the usual Enfield, Java and Yamaha RD 350. He even owned a Triumph Tiger, the original one. He dealt with motorcycles those days. Today he runs a garage which caters to cars. He rode across the length and breadth of India with his friends, just like how I’m doing today.

We exchanged a number of ride stories, his being far more interesting than mine. Mainly because there was no mobile phone service or GPS back then in India. Finding proper tarmac to ride on itself was a challenge.

We were really enjoying our conversation when he said something that made me want to end it or at least change the topic. He said, “Then one day I got married and everything stopped.”

I felt like I had been talking to a bird in a cage about the time when it could fly freely, explore new lands and experience new places. I felt horrible and soon changed the topic to something else.

I think the fear of dying shouldn’t prevent you from living. And I mean really living. Not just existing. What do you think?