I was riding a Daelim Daystar, an overweight South korean cruiser that ran on a miniscule 125cc engine. It looked good! I used to dust it and polish the chrome meticulousy. This all was before I got an introduction to the muddier, funner side of riding. Now my bike is lucky if it gets four washes a year...
I was riding down 118, from Lower Kabete, heading towards town. I reached the place near Sarit, where there is a junction to the left going to Westgate. There was no roundabout then. A huge car was in front of me and it slowed down to turn left. I, being still a fledgling bikedolescent with that "I have the right of way" arrogance, zipped past it-
Only to meet another car driven by a lady, that was coming from the Westgate side and turning right, towards Lower kabete. She never saw me because the other car blocked her view. We never saw each other.
I did not even remember I had a motorcycle till one of the vendors said they will keep it safe for me. I called Conrad Karume to come pick my bike and drop it at his fundi's place. The lady rushed me to Aga Khan hospital.
What happened at Aga Khan hospital is the crux of my story here.
I was checked in and booked for an X-Ray. As I waited for the doctor to give me a feedback on my condition, a nurse came to attend to me...
"You are wet," she said.
"Really?" I said. I was still recovering from the shock of the accident. But yes, my jeans were a bit damp. "It's sweat," I said. It had been a tough morning.
She gave me a side eye, then moved closer and sniffed at me...
"No, it's urine," she pronounced.
All my machoness down the toilet! I wanted to dig a hole and hide in it forever! I never saw her again...
Hahahah never saw that ending coming
Where do bikers go for cycling lessons,is there a recommendable place to learn per se?