Ticket to Ride

I pull out the bike and honk twice.
"Coming..", my sister yells.
She blows a kiss to Coal, our half Irish setter, rest unknown mutt and sits down behind me. I start the bike; it revs up without any trouble and soon we're on the main road.
"So... what do you want to sing?"
"I don't know," I say, "you pick."
"Vindicated?"
"Umm... No, something faster."
"Hitchin' a Ride?"
"Ok", I agree happily. We're both Green Day fans and Ride is one of our favourite songs.

pumpum pumpum pumpum pararara
pumpum pumpum pumpum pararara

I keep time with my foot and speed up a little. Her fingers dig into my shoulder and I slow down.

Hey mister where ya headed?
Are you in a hurry?

She freaks out if I travel over fifty. But for all her safety consciousness, she refuses to wear a helmet. Unlike me, I might add.

Need a lift to happy hour?
I said oh no
To misquote a little Zen, driving a car is like looking a a picture. It's nice, it's pretty; but you're just looking at it. Riding a bike... Man! that's like being in the picture. I get a buzz doing eighty on my bike. One twenty in a car and... Zip. Nada. Nothing. Pretty picture.

Do you break for distilled spirits?
Need a break as well
The well that inebriates the guilt
One, two...

"ONE TWO THREE FOUR!... we erupt in a cacophony of euphoria. Now we're loud enough to get strange looks from passing motorists. Not something we're unaccustomed to. Booze? No thanks. My highs are clean and hangover free. Well, not exactly clean if you consider how much Bangalore smog I end up inhaling. But definitely hangover free.

There's a drought at the fountain of youth
And I'm dehydrated

No way. Not now, not ever. There's something about a bike.. Whether you're flying on the Ring Road or crawling through JC Road traffic. There's that indescribable feeling as you dodge around a precariously tilted bus. The thrill of doing something that isn't entirely safe laced with a curious feeling of independence. If someone could bottle that feeling, I swear he'd have the elixir of youth

I'm off the wagon and I'm
Hitchin' a ride

We've reached. Sis gets off the bike, peers into the rearview mirror and adjusts her hair. The residue of that exhiliration makes me reach out and give her a little hug. I'm happy to be alive. She stares at me. "Jeez. What's with you?"