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Thursday, August 07, 2003

I just sold my steel horse.

It's been with me for six long years.

Joyous times with Chanel...
Countless trips to the University...
Long rides on desolate roads...
Party times with friends...
Pissed-off bouts of road rage...
Across states...
...and to hell and back.

It's been my accomplice in dodging the morons in the traffic police, my best and most reliable buddy, my most harrowing companion, and at one point in time, the chief source of the hole in my wallet. But it also got me buzzing around my city, often at the eleventh hour, through sun, rain, hail or worse, roadlessness to meet yesterday's deadlines with understanding clients.

Cinna once remarked, when I just met with an accident on Christmas Eve, that 'I'd just had my Jingle Bells on Rudolf'. Thatta crached his skull and lived to tell the tale, riding pillion on my steed. Pitkir often disappeared on nail-biting score sessions, while I waited, worrying myself to death. Rahul teased me no end about my 'I'll-only-ride-home-on-my-steed' fixation.

It has served me well and long, and never cribbed, even when I left it lying alone and desolate in the garage at Oxford House. I wish I never had to sell it. But at this point in time, I really have no alternative. In fact, this is the money that is going to get me to the promised land.

Why then, do I feel like I've pledged my soul?

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