You see, I've always wanted a bike. It's presence in arbitrary definitions of adolescent masculinity not withstanding, it also had the added advantage of being able to get you from point A to point B without all this tedious mucking around waiting in bus-stops and hanging off foot-boards.
So, one fine day, I decided that I'd buy myself a bike. And I figured that while I was at it, I might as well go for the full monty and buy the best I could afford. That's how, last April, I brought home a brand new Yamaha FZ-16 that appeared to have all the bells and whistles of a modern race-bike. ('appeared' of course, being the operative word here. But that's a different story altogether). As soon as I came home, I started typing a blog entry about it, but then my interest tapered away after a para or so. A month later, and a service later, I started with another entry, but then my interest tapered away again. This happened a couple of times more too. And that is how I now find quite a few perfectly worded first paragraphs about my bike lying around on my desktop.
Anyway, all that's history, and it's close to one year since I bought it. Now people ask me why I bought this mammoth of a bike that operates on terms of liters per kilometer instead of the other way around. My answer is, this bike looks cool. Like this:
However, what I really wanted to achieve with my bike was this:
I reckon I have come close. Like this: