My Court of Appeal

Good week everyone! Thank you for all your responses. Interestingly enough, Frieda and I had a little spar over that post as well, arguing about the veracity of the events I related. Don’t worry, it was good natured; in the mutual knowledge that I had stretched my facts a little in revenge for the upper hand she always has in our ‘debates’. It was a good laugh though, especially in the irony that most people were on her side even when I tried to turn it to suit me. Thanks!

This week I’m going to annoy her even further but I will need your feedback and support so she can see reason in what I’m trying to propose. We’ve had an argument on this issue before and she at the time refused to see the big picture that would be to the benefit of us both – the benefit of living life to the full! I want to buy a motorbike! No, it is not the suicidal speedos that go so fast that the wind gives you a grotesque grin by stretching your lips right back to your ears and make your cheeks flap like a flag on a happy day. A safety record on those fiends is to retain all your limbs and spine – not necessarily all your skin - after at least ten crashes, and that’s in a year. I’m talking about the big massive touring bikes that you actually have the time to slot in a CD or ipod, cruise along the highway and drink in the scenery around you. With these beauties, there’s no need for those hideous cocoon like helmets that make one look like an alien but has one shaped rather like a cap that’s strapped just under the chin. I first saw it on George Clooney and fell in love. Plus one can pose much as he wants to, as bikes give one the cool aura that cannot be replicated anywhere else.

I had gone to pick up my invitation card at the studio for the wrap up Tinsel party when Alex, one of the directors on set ran up to me to gleefully drag me to see his new toy. He had bought a Suzuki bike earlier on – it had an automatic transmission- and it was an absolute steal. It was so pretty and at the same time very frugal. I had salivated on the time I’d cut in half in Lagos traffic with it and proposed buying it to Frieda. Hm, na wa O! I don’t know why women always love to end a matter before understanding the beginning at least. She began by panicking and mourning my death which she could clearly see and attacked me for threatening to cut short the plans we have together. Did I know how many people died from motorbike accidents? I, being naturally cool headed and logical, told her that I would not get on any bike unless I was fully trained to do so, until I’d learnt to ride in a manner that wouldn’t harm me or people around me. Besides I wasn’t like all those okada riders (commercial motorcyclists) who leave their brains at home and have a chronic aversion to patience and stopping for anybody except to pick up passengers. I was a responsible young man who has a desire to build and fend for his family and so wants to live long and healthily. She won that round and the matter was rested.

Alex’s new bike was a roaring beauty – 750cc of gleaming chrome and studded plastic seats, complete with an orgasmic throb from under the seats. I could imagine carrying my lady on the pillion – if she go gree! The best part of it, he told me was that he belonged to a club of bikers that had two groups – the speeders and the tourers. He belongs in the tourers’ They always train members in the club and safety is their watchword. They even have a fifty six year old lady who has just joined and is taking lessons in riding! The best part? They periodically go en masse on tours around the country; from Lagos to Maiduguri in the northern part of the country or to Bayesla in the south or even take an eight day tour to circumvent the country. Could you imagine the possibilities that could come from such an experience? The brotherhood, the invaluable insights one could garner from experiencing new cultures and meeting diverse tribes never known before? Imagine the countless stories and experiences I’d share with you my good people about people, animals, sights, smells and sounds and foods? Speak for me my brethren. I have come to you first so you can convince Frieda to let me join this club. Let this slogan reverberate in your psyche – Safety is their Watchword – and consider that I have chosen wisely and am not a madman waving brands of fire about. I’m going to face madam with my second proposal but first I’ll pray, post this article, wait till evening or tomorrow morning before I tell her. Hopefully, I’ll be able to refer her to your favourable comments for leverage. So go on, Speak hands for me! Have a great week ahead everybody and a happy Sallah weekend to my Muslim brethren – actually me too because I’m going to start looking for whose house I’ll be eating ram at this weekend!