He doesn’t look so new now. His shiny blue body and the wheels are splattered with mud. Scratches are appearing everywhere. And he needs some serious servicing. But I’ve grown accustomed to his little grumbles and groans. And the disturbing crackles he makes each time his gears are shifted.
And he shares my little secrets.
Pedalling furiously one night, I told him how I wondered whether I could find the courage to go wherever my heart led. Would I dare to leave everything behind and spend the rest of my life doing what I love – read, write and travel?
Or would I heed the convention, now that I‘ve graduated and re-graduated with a job, would I ever get married and watch kids grow? Would I migrate? Being close to my family, I sometimes wonder whether I am drifting along with my family’s silent expectations of me.
I told my bike how I missed watching my little god-brother grow. From a 10-year-old kid to a young handsome 23-year-old. Yes, that’s how long he’s been away from Singapore.
I told him of my sadness sometime back when I first learnt from the doctor (my good friend) that my Dad’s got cancer and has only 6 months to live. And how I couldn’t break the news to my Mom and Sis because they would definitely freak out. And how relieved I was when my Dad was miraculously cured in the end.
Some people may think that the stereotype of someone like me is a wanderer at heart, doesn't take relationships seriously, "commercialised" by society, impatient, materialistic and eager for immediate success and wealth, and passionate about getting rid of the old tradition. That’s not always true. My yearnings are so much simpler. I have so much to share. I’ll just go for a ride again.
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