My love machine like no other

Someone once said to me: If it's more than three months, it's love. Sometime during the eighth moon of 2013, I came to know I was fixated and finally owned it all. I remember the eyes that looked right through me, both timorous and challenging, and the sound that lilted between cherubic serenades and imposing command.

Now that it sits in my garage, I still look on, impressed with the simplicity and elegance of its design, longingly. I mainly long for it because I know I haven't completely possessed it until I've mastered the machine.

My bike is surpassed by many in terms of being the best, but to me it takes the form of love many fold. I've had sleepless nights, bruised a thigh, semi-sacrificed a sibling, and been caught in compromising positions all in the name of my bike – whose name I'm still not prepared to give up – but I truly believe that it's all part of the process of finally conquering my bike, sort of like breaking in shoes that bite into one's heels and like taming an adorable puppy that bites. "It will all be worth it," I keep telling myself.

Perhaps for the brave and brazen out there, it all doesn't make sense. This rigmarole I go through, just for the sake of simply learning to ride. But, I guess I'm not made of the same stuff that you guys are made of and poppycock it is because I've resorted to the most ridiculous things.

The things that my bike has had to endure: I've resorted to moving my bike onto the balcony of my 12th storey apartment and jumpstarting my bike with my car countless of times –- hey, I do know how to perform a jumpstart and you can guess why I need to keep jumpstarting my bike. Well, at least I'm not guilty of not trying.

In my own way, I pay much heed to the upkeep of my bike. After an abundance of ideas and words of advice thrown around here and there, I now know that jumpstarting my bike with a car could potentially cause an explosion, so I take the battery out instead.

In instances that I do get too busy to run my engine before a long leave of absence, it becomes a mere case of taking the battery out of the bike and getting it charged at a workshop. So, at least I've got a few things down in terms of the standard operating procedures of owning a bike and I guess it helps to be pretty handy with a screwdriver.

It will be a year soon and my interest for my bike hasn't waned despite my lack of actually riding it. However, to each his own – in my case, her own – and if it takes me another year to finally ride down a stretch of road unaccompanied, then so be it.

I've also learnt that one's friends can only help so much and it soon gets very obvious that no matter how frightening it gets, the keyword here is self-sustenance. As in any relationship, the participants continuously bleed, rejoice, discover and evolve.

 This love affair is far from over, as taxing as it is, and my last chapter has yet to be written. – May 16, 2014.