Elementary!

I had just become the proud owner of a brand new Yamaha RX-100, and was zooming across the town, exhilarated.Young, fun loving and without a care in the world, I spent the first day in getting a feel of the bike.The next day, I stopped at a Red light. As the light turned amber, and then green, I engaged gear, and started moving off. At that moment a huge, ferocious truck roared in from my right. Stunned, I tried to move out of its way.

* * * *

When I came to, I was lying in a hospital bed (obviously), swathed in bandages.
Near the bed, sat Sandy, my chum.“Hi, there!” he said, grinning, “Welcome to the Club! Congratulations!”
“Eh?” I groaned.
“I mean, you’ve just joined the RAPRC.”
“The what?” I managed.
“The Reckless Accident-Prone Riders Club,” Sandy informed me.I managed a smile. “Oh, that!” I squeaked.
“You’re fresh, buddy. You need a few lessons in driving. Get one thing into your brain, you fathead,” said Sandy, and then whispered conspiratorially, “The Nagpur traffic follows the Law of the Jungle – Survival of the fittest.”
“And the traffic rules?” I whined.
Sandy laughed contemptuously. “They’re for the kids to learn,” he told me, “Rely on your instincts. I’ll give you a few hints.”
I prepared myself for some bizarre guidelines.
Sandy cleared his throat, and started giving me lessons in traffic sense. “First and foremost, NEVER stop at a red light. If you see one, shoot through it.”
“Secondly, ride on the wrong side on a one-way street. Did you learn the traffic signs and signals?” he asked. “Yes, I…”“Forget them. Never use them.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “But how the…,” I started to protest.
Sandy held up his hand. “Elementary, my dear Andy! The secret is to take them by surprise. People who drive don’t look for the obvious. Their minds are on the alert for abnormalities.
“Everyone stops at a red light, but they’ll immediately spot you if you don’t, and will avoid hitting you at all costs.”
I was beginning to see wisdom in my chum’s words.
“Similarly, a vehicle going the other way on a one-way street is a danger, and everyone will give it a wide berth.”
“How true!” I said.
“As for signalling, it confuses everybody. Half the folks don’t know how to signal correctly, and the other half don’t know how to interpret them. “So, if you want to turn right, just go for it; don’t brush away imaginary specks of dust from the air and make a fool of yourself. The point, again, is the element of surprise.”
My respect for my friend increased, and I listened more attentively.
“Overtake from the left. The other chap will never let you pass from his right – because it’s obvious you’ll try. When you zoom in from his left, the guy’ll panic like hell, and get out of your way.
“Again, a word of caution. Never signal to him that you are overtaking, from whichever side you do so. He’ll always block your way. People get sadistic pleasure from preventing others surpass them." I knew. Such men should be shot at sight.
Just then, the nurse came in to check my temperature, pulse or whatever. She was stunning, devastating. But Sandy, a chronic bird-watcher, didn’t even raise his eyes. Then and there, I knew he was damn serious about what he was talking, and whatever doubts I had, were gone.
The nurse poked and pinched here and there, generally trying to make me uncomfortable. But I stayed put. She finally gave up, and left.
Sandy continued, “Exceed the speed limit by at least 100%. Everyone will hear you coming when you’re a couple of miles away, and clear your path. You’ll feel like a VVIP.
“Think of the 21st century. Imagine you want to reach it tomorrow.”
“I will,” I said, and meant it.
“And when you stop, don’t glide to a halt. Jam on the brakes. The idea is…”
“Element of surprise,” I said.
Sandy nodded approvingly, “You’re already learning!”
“Oh, yes! There’s an intersection where right turn is supposed to be prohibited,” he went on, “Whenever you pass, remember to turn right. Every smart Alec thinks he’s the only one doing so, and that nobody’ll notice, and he tries pulling a fast one.
“If you try going straight, you’ll land in crab-soup.”
“As I have now,” I said, thinking of the Chinese restaurant I would not be able to go to for a month.
“Right. Keep with the majority, turn right. That way, it’s easier for all.”
Sandy looked at his watch, and picked up the keys. “There are numerous other small details, but you can take care of them, I’m sure,” he said, “For example, keep your number plate dirty.”
“I’ve already done that,” I told him.
Sandy stood up to go. “A last word of caution. Never look a cop in the eye. They’re mind readers. And if one blows his whistle, pretend it’s for someone else. He can always find another victim.”
He started to leave, stopped, and said, “And, buddy, remember this: You are not the only one following these set of rules; hundreds of others are doing the same. They’ll try to catch you unawares. So, watch out for the surprises in your own dish: the chap who turns without signalling, overshoots a red light, and the like. They are all our brothers, believers in a common code.”
I was impressed. I thanked him, and then asked, “Hey, Sandy! Where did you learn all these things?”
He smiled, “My boy, I’m riding my bike for the last ten years. I kept my eyes and ears open!”
“Well, be seeing you! Get well soon,” and he was gone.
I lay there, trying to digest the lessons he had just heaped on me.During my stay in bed, I debated whether to put his advice into practice. I weighed all the pros and cons, and finally decided to give it a try.
The day I was fully fit, I took out my bike, and toed Sandy’s line to the last. I sprang all the possible surprises, and scared the daylights out of everyone.
And I rode happily ever after.
(The Hitavada, Nagpur, October 22, 1987.)