Nobody, other than me, had experienced or shared my joy first-hand at gunning my BattleCat on a beautiful tarmac, and taking her, and my skills, body, and my soul, almost to their very limits.
Until today.
I was speaking to someone on the phone when, between Purandar Fort and Garade, the most beautiful stretch of clean, sparsely populated, unpolluted blacktop with gorgeous views on both sides suddenly came upon me.
The person on the phone stayed on as I did what I love (live?) to do. And heard me describe it and scream & exult as I did it. They heard the excitement in my voice and the sheer pleasure I was deriving from pushing those 47 horses till they foamed at their mouths, while loving every moment of it. My heartbeat was matching the revs on the 650cc engine and blood was racing through my veins to keep pace with the wheels, even as a plethora of endorphins exploded inside my mind. At the end of it all, I was exhausted. And breathless. Like I had just run a marathon. Or, actually, a sprint.
The person at the other end of the line stayed with me throughout. Without speaking. Just listening. And soaking in the absolute joy together. Something no one else but I knew before this.
That was perhaps the most intimate thing I’ve shared with anyone for a rather long time (and I’ve been having enough sex, if I may use the word ‘enough’ loosely). ‘Nuff said.
