It was a time when not everyone could afford cars. It was a time when helmets were not compulsory. When there were only two to three brands of two wheeler's available. The time when a whole family of four would sit on the same two wheeler. Dad at the front, mom at the back, the smaller kid standing ahead of dad, and the older one squeezed between mom and dad. It was this time, when I was a proud scooter owner (at least in part).
Scooters in the 90s were the 'it' thing. Bikes were considered to be a little on the dangerous side (at least that's what I was told when I asked my dad why we didn't have a bike), whereas scooters were considered to be friendly. It was a family vehicle.
I would assume the position of the younger kid, standing in front of my dad, excited to be the first one who got the view of the road ahead, warning my dad about every speed breaker ahead, by shouting "Speed Breaker" whenever I saw one. Dad would slow down and pass the speed breaker. It gave me the impression that it was because of me that Dad noticed speed breakers. Made me feel like the owner of the scooter. It meant the world to me.
That obsession about being an integral part of the driving process, also saw me blaming myself for an accident in which our scooter slipped and we all hurt ourselves pretty badly! (even though the slip was due to oil, and had nothing whatsoever to do with a speed breaker!)
That place in the scooter, in front of my father, hair blowing up from the blowing wind, enjoying the scenery, milliseconds before my mom and sister would see it, was my place in the family.That little cramped space was the den of all my adventures.
I would take my army fighter planes with me on the scooter, pretending to fly them at super sonic speed, killing all the enemies ahead of us. It would be a pretty engaging battle, stretched from home to Juhu beach, every weekend.
My earliest memory though is of me falling down from the scooter while attempting to get down when it was moving, trying to emulate those who get down from a moving scooter, not noticing that they also started to run when they got down from the scooter! Who knew a scooter could give lessons in momentum and relative motion !
I would still always be standing in the leg space for the driver, feeling a tad bit jealous that I was the only one not being given a seat. Mom dad and my sister all sat comfortably while I had to stand all the way through Mumbai's polluted roads and hostile drivers. After months of stubborn insistence, I finally got a small seat in front of the driver's seat that could be opened and closed in a way and was just enough for me to feel complete!
I lost so many of my toys, made so many temporary passing through friends in that little seat that was only mine. I started outgrowing it soon enough and the joy didn't last long. After 16 long years, the Bajaj gave way and it became too expensive to keep it moving. Combine that with a 2 stroke engine and it was slowly becoming useless.
We finally couldn't even sell the scooter (no one wanted to buy one) and we had to dismantle it and sell it to the scrap dealer. Today I travel in a car, hell I even drive around in a car, but those 2 wheels carried so many memories.
Sometimes I wonder if we, in the quest for bigger and better things, forget the things which actually give us happiness.
Or do we just over think every thing? :P
Scooters in the 90s were the 'it' thing. Bikes were considered to be a little on the dangerous side (at least that's what I was told when I asked my dad why we didn't have a bike), whereas scooters were considered to be friendly. It was a family vehicle.
I would assume the position of the younger kid, standing in front of my dad, excited to be the first one who got the view of the road ahead, warning my dad about every speed breaker ahead, by shouting "Speed Breaker" whenever I saw one. Dad would slow down and pass the speed breaker. It gave me the impression that it was because of me that Dad noticed speed breakers. Made me feel like the owner of the scooter. It meant the world to me.
That obsession about being an integral part of the driving process, also saw me blaming myself for an accident in which our scooter slipped and we all hurt ourselves pretty badly! (even though the slip was due to oil, and had nothing whatsoever to do with a speed breaker!)
That place in the scooter, in front of my father, hair blowing up from the blowing wind, enjoying the scenery, milliseconds before my mom and sister would see it, was my place in the family.That little cramped space was the den of all my adventures.
I would take my army fighter planes with me on the scooter, pretending to fly them at super sonic speed, killing all the enemies ahead of us. It would be a pretty engaging battle, stretched from home to Juhu beach, every weekend.
My earliest memory though is of me falling down from the scooter while attempting to get down when it was moving, trying to emulate those who get down from a moving scooter, not noticing that they also started to run when they got down from the scooter! Who knew a scooter could give lessons in momentum and relative motion !
I would still always be standing in the leg space for the driver, feeling a tad bit jealous that I was the only one not being given a seat. Mom dad and my sister all sat comfortably while I had to stand all the way through Mumbai's polluted roads and hostile drivers. After months of stubborn insistence, I finally got a small seat in front of the driver's seat that could be opened and closed in a way and was just enough for me to feel complete!
I lost so many of my toys, made so many temporary passing through friends in that little seat that was only mine. I started outgrowing it soon enough and the joy didn't last long. After 16 long years, the Bajaj gave way and it became too expensive to keep it moving. Combine that with a 2 stroke engine and it was slowly becoming useless.
We finally couldn't even sell the scooter (no one wanted to buy one) and we had to dismantle it and sell it to the scrap dealer. Today I travel in a car, hell I even drive around in a car, but those 2 wheels carried so many memories.
Sometimes I wonder if we, in the quest for bigger and better things, forget the things which actually give us happiness.
Or do we just over think every thing? :P
P.S : This isn't me or my family. But pretty representative of what that scooter stood for :)
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