Like Hockey


I love motorbikes. My favourite part of a motorbike is the swell of the fuel tank. How it humps up, like the back of an aquatic animal…like the potbelly of a former rugby player; it’s hard-ish, sitting there like a reminder of younger days. I also love what the helmet represents; that you can be anybody behind it once the visor is down. You are a ghost, incognito, riding through the belly of a city, unknown, unrecognized, carrying your own secrets. You can see the world but the world can’t see you. My policy on motorbikes is the same as with dogs; if you are going to get one, get a very big one. A big bike is raw power between your legs.

I don’t get people who ride scooters, sitting there like you are in church, waiting to receive the sacrament. Scooters are the poodles of motorcycles. And poodles make me anxious, especially if the owner dresses them up like babies. I love big dogs that breathe hard and leave prints of massive paws on dust. I love monstrous bikes; loud and boisterous, like riding an untamable beast. The ones you see coming in your rear-view mirror, lights ablaze, and they whip past you and suddenly they are a blur like they were never there, something you imagined. I love how the big bike owners stop beside you on the traffic lights, leathered legs planted on the ground. They stare ahead under their mysterious helmets, knowing that everybody secretly dreams of being on that bike but knowing that not everybody can because it takes a different kind of person to get on a big bike, it’s a different kind of responsibility, a love affair borne from a different kind of courage.

I don’t possess that courage. And because of this I will never own, or get on a big bike. It’s like Australia: I love the idea of it but I just know I will never sit in a bloody plane for 24-hours to visit it. Sometimes something happens that cements this feeling; folk falling off speeding bikes, seeing bodaboda riders sprawled under vehicles, a widow saying, “He was just meant to do a quick dash to the supermarket.” Sure, we all die eventually, but I don’t want to go out like that if I can help it. I don’t want to meet the road at 140km/hr, crushing bones and lying there as my brain swells in my skull. If I need adrenaline, I will go on Twitter.

So when, Ben, my friend bought a bike – a sexy, Hyosung 250 GTR – I thought, ‘how cool.’ It was red, sporty and sleek. And it was almost as loud as him. He’d ride it occasionally when he wasn’t driving. All he talked about was “gear and safety.” Sometimes he’d ride it to the bar and have a virgin dawa and on the rare occasion he’d succumb and have whisky and leave the bike back at the bar because like he said, “It takes a millisecond to make a fatal mistake on a bike when your chemical composition is even slightly altered.”

On the eve of the accident, he and his wife, G, watched The Banker on Netflix. They have two couches in the living room; he was lying on one – the one the colour of an egg yolk. G was sprawled on the other grey-ish one. Their two sons had retired to bed. All you need to know about The Banker is that Samuel L Jackson is in it and it’s set in a bygone America that had not yet learnt to mask racism and so there is a great deal of snarling, tie-wearing rednecks calling blacks “niggers.” Samuel L Jackson and his mates are buying prime real estate using the white man as a front. It’s based on a true story. This kind of stuff fires Ben up, stories of business heists and underdogs using their smarts to find fortune. He runs a radio station and dabbles in advertising and communication or anything that has potential to make money.

His wife hates watching movies with him because he’s a “rewinder.” That annoying breed of people who are always rewinding scenes they like. So he kept rewinding the movie when Samuel Jackson said something dope – and Samuel L Jackson says many dope things in The Banker as he does in all his movies. Inspired by the movie, he decided that he would not work from home the following day. He’d go to the office, finalize a detailed write–up of some radio plans and ensure production for projects he had lined up before COVID-19. Basically, working while the country naps.

Next day when he was about to leave the house around midday, his son persuaded him to drive him around in “the purple car.” (It’s a blue car). So they drove around around for a bit while he stared out through the window with the usual curiosity of a three-year old, blissfully unaware how the world he was staring at through the car window had changed. For now, he just loved the seemingly innocuous idea of being in his father’s “purple car”, looking outside at the trees and buildings running along the road. He dropped him off back at the house and as he geared up, G came out of their study/home-office where she was reviewing contracts (a lawyer). “Where are you going?” She asked.

“Office,” he said, pulling on his padded biking gear. “I can’t work with the chaos in this house.”

“Is this trip essential?” She asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yup,” He said, looking around for his keys.

There is a custom they observe when leaving the house without their eldest son. If leaving with the car, you wave at him from the driver’s window as he looks out from the bedroom window. From the bike he’d always have to ride to the parking space beneath the living room balcony, peel off his helmet and salute before riding away. It makes him giddy because he’s a boy and boys like the idea that they are a general in an army and he’s being saluted.

After the salute, he eased the bike out of the apartment gate and up to the main road on King’ara Road, a few metres away. It was a beautiful Thursday afternoon, it had rained the previous night, the leaves were a healthy green and the soil was still damp. His usual route to the office when riding would be to turn left at the King’ara Road/Mbaazi Avenue Junction to James Gichuru Road with a right turn to Ring Road at the roundabout near TACC, then straight on past the Oloitoktok Roundabout, Dennis Pritt Roundabout past Yaya Centre to Ngong Road where he turns left and down to their offices next to Daystar University. He loves it because it has long stretches of disciplined traffic, which is beautiful to ride past. But today, for some weird reason, he decided to turn right into King’ara road and headed towards The Junction Mall, instead. The plan was to turn left into Ngong Road at The Junction and ride the straight length of the road to Daystar.

Unbeknownst to him, the devil was waiting for him at the dip on Kinga’ra Road.

The grim reaper had lit a cigarette and was leaning on a tree by the roadside, smoking and occasionally looking up Kingara Road. He had on an old hat that smelled of wood smoke and paraffin. He had coins in his pocket that jingled when he walked – because the devil won’t change. He hadn’t shaved in a while because, well, nobody is shaving now, so he kept his own stubble to blend in with the rest. He glanced at his watch and saw Ben coming down the road, picking up speed, overtaking a slow moving boda.

Ben – the sun bouncing off the tip of his helmet – squeezed down the throttle and as he picked up speed downhill, was aware of a slow moving car in the opposite lane, its parking lights on. Why would anyone park in the pit of this dip, he thought. Then things happened very swiftly. The vehicle suddenly made a U-turn, getting directly into his lane and at this point his head was screaming, no-no-no-no, what the f*ck are you doing?! He knew he was going to crash into this vehicle and as his body braced for the impact he heard two calm voices in his head. The first was his wife asking him, “Is this trip essential, are you sure?” and the second was his own voice thinking, ‘Oh shit, I’m crashing. This is not how it ends, surely, I can’t die today!” You wear a mask to live against something so small you can’t see only to be killed by a bike so big you can see it miles away.

So he started fighting the devil and fate and death. He veered off to the left, leaning on the bike to avoid the idiot, and perhaps he could have missed this car but it was too sudden. His front wheel missed the car by a whisker but his right leg didn’t and bang, he rammed into the car and flew off the bike, landing metres away. There is that brief moment of shock when you are not sure if you are alive or dead. A moment of great and surreal confusion. Like a scene in slow motion. When adrenaline is coursing through your body so fast, you have no feeling of pain or time. He managed to remove his helmet and get up on his feet, but then he realised that his right leg couldn’t step on the ground, it was like stepping on quicksand, so he fell back down. When he lifted his head to look at his bloodied leg he saw it face an abnormal direction. Suddenly it made sense; his leg was broken. He felt no pain. He remembered thinking; I’m alive and I’m going to lose my leg. I will forever be in prosthetics. I will be the guy who removes his leg to get in bed. And people would avoid using expressions like, “get a leg up” near him.

The devil watching all this sighed in disappointment, crushed his cigarette under his boot and walked away. Well, maybe another day.

He ended up in Nairobi Hospital. He later learnt that a good Samaritan called Aggrey drove him to the hospital. Aggrey had lost his brother who was a biker; he slid off his bike, fell and a lorry ran over him near a petrol station. He has CCTV footage of the incident in his phone, acquired from a petrol station. I saw G in the hospital lounge waiting as he was in a seven-hour surgery. She looked tired. “I have had numerous conversations about this bike,” she said, “this is the second accident he’s had. You guys now have to tell him to stop riding.”

I did. He said he only had three material toys on his bucket list; a sport bike being one of them. “I won’t stop riding,” he says. “I refuse to let my life be ruled by fear and so ride I will. But never too fast, never too slow, never with stunts. I’ll heavily invest in building the rider’s sixth sense. I’ll take those cornering lessons from Motho (another rider) and everything I can glean from his experience. I’ll treat every other motorist as an idiot, especially the ones in cars and give them way every single time. I’ll be looking at cars the way your guys are now looking at every next person as someone who has COVID-19 … and keep my distance.” He says all these as he lies in the hospital bed, his right leg – broken in two places, looking darker than his face.

“This is the second time you are falling off the bike, what if you have one last strike?” I asked him, trying out his crutches.

He grunted dismissively. “ This was not a death strike, Biko. Riding is not a death sport and is not as dangerous as you think. I played hockey in high school, people said the same thing about hockey. Hockey, like riding, is only dangerous to a bad player, a good player with a proper mastery of the stick has nothing to fear.”

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  1. I know someone who will be extremely thrilled because you mentioned Samuel L Jackson in this story

    Biko the way you make a simple story such as this so exciting is just out of this world. A wizard, that’s what you are.

    ‘The devil watching all this sighed in disappointment, crushed his cigarette under his boot and walked away. Well, maybe another day.’ This took me out. You have such a wild imagination.

    Also, I can only imagine how helpless G is feeling right now. Anaskia kama anaweza smash hiyo bike. I wouldn’t blame her if she did.

  2. Why do I think like Ben? lol. I love the Hyosung 250 GTR; it’s engine power is more manageable than many other bikes it’s class. There is a saying among bikers, “Once you survive a bike accident, getting back on it is the best therapy.” Get well soon Ben and get back on that bike.

  3. Free is that man that obeys the desire of his heart. We can’t live a miserable cowardly life just because a fool made a U turn at the wrong moment

  4. When you see a young man’s life snuffed out under a lorry at the junction of valley road and Jakaya Kikwete road (formerly milimani road) around Pan Afric hotel, you’d wanna rethink riding that motorised two wheeled devil’s machine.

  5. Pass my best wishes to Japs … Tell him it will be well. Also suffered a broken leg circa 2015 but I’m good now.
    He calls me “Group CEO”

  6. I’ve always wanted a bike. Well, this hasn’t changed my mind despite the ending. He truly is a real biker and fear shouldn’t come between something you love.

    PS: Stanley Hudson from ” The Office” said one rule in his life is to drive fast and leave a sexy corpse…I know this is not the right time to say this but it had to be said.
    Have a great week ahead guys. #DriveSafe #StaySafe

  7. The devil watching all this sighed in disappointment, crushed his cigarette under his boot and walked away. Well, maybe another day.

    I could literally see him through your description. Your way of writing Biko is just amazing. You inspire me.

    The devil is a liar, get well soon Ben.

  8. That was scary. I wish him a quick recovery. Indeed in this life you cannot live in fear. I admire his passion for bikes even though he knows the risk behind it. We all have to passionate about something. Amazing story.

  9. Look at this man, still fired up about riding despite not one, but two accidents. I choked on an orange in class 2 and I’ve never warmed up to them. I’m almost 30, by the way.

    Get well soon Ben!! Thank you for giving me courage to go look for an orange now 🙂

  10. The beauty of reading is that you create the scene in your mind. You are the director and all the other essential services in the production of that movie. Hats off to the writer, Jackson Biko. Quick recovery Ben.

  11. Someone I know died last week; bike accident. I have witnessed such way too many times. I understand the thrill that comes with it, but I will not accept it. I do not befriend bikers anymore, because once they leave an impression; often next thing you hear is they had an accident. And died. Or got physically impaired. Don’t get me wrong, I love speed too as every youth does. But I would rather be in a tested crumple zone that none.
    PS: I know how to ride a bike. I understand the feeling of freedom when exposed to elements. Those two wheelers sure do pick up fast, but I won’t be enticed.

  12. Awesome story Biko. It’s something for us adventurous, outgoing and young riders to always be cautious. And keep watch for careless drivers..

  13. Nothing will stop him from riding it. I know that not even a third accident, just like a wife cannot stop her husband who wants to do something despite her worry. Well I learnt it from an elderly friend. When he wants to go and that feeling of worry kicks in….don’t try to stop him as much as the feeling is real. Let him go freely but say a simple short prayer. Put him in God’s hands and rest.

  14. This was m y best quote “My policy on motorbikes is the same as with dogs; if you are going to get one, get a very big one. A big bike is raw power between your legs.”

  15. On Easter Friday, driving from Embu at around 6 pm, I met a biker…. Sprawled on the floor, all his grey/whitish brain lying on the road.
    Well, people need to take care, i always look at our road like graveyards……

  16. I surely can see that Devil smoking his cigar. Now I fear riding, I’m always thrilled by riders but with such stories I won’t get one.

  17. You wear a mask to live against something so small you can’t see only to be killed by a bike so big you can see it miles away. But anyway it’s life.

  18. Just the right article to share with my wife. I have an Honda CBR 600RR, and everytime I get it out for a ride she always assumes the worst. It’s time people realized that bikes are safe, it’s just like cars. Thanks a lot for this Biko

  19. Aggrey’s brother was called Deddy Maganga, such a genius. Deddy loved his bike as much as he loved going to church, all bikers have a thing for bikes, no one can talk them out of biking ….To all the Bikers out there,take care guys,speed and slight negligence kills.

  20. So the moment I read this story I knew it would be down memory lane and remind me of heart wrenching episodes.
    We lost Oge to a biking accident one Sunday 4/5 years ago.
    Then Aggrey’s bro. By the way ask him for his story. (He was the G in his brother’s life)
    You never know why someone’s time comes. Either through covid or bikes and other whatnots. But to be prepared (the person dying not the one’s living) like Aggrey’s bro was (at least that is what it seemed to the rest of us) is stuff you only read in the bible… Talk to Aggrey.

  21. I wish I could afford a bike and a gooood bike. I always pray that God blesses me with one soon. I love bikes but I won’t ride carelessly or too fast.get well soon Ben and always assume that the driver next to you or ahead of You will do something silly.. That way, you will always be prepared

  22. Biko, did you have to try out his crutches? Haaaa!
    Such a good read, thankyou for making my Tuesdays .
    Quickest recovery Ben.

  23. I so love bikes. Big ones with insane engines. I love speed. Which is how I cracked my skull riding a bike that was going so fast I had to snatch my breaths from the wind. I was scared for a bit. But I got back on.

    Bikes are like addictive, forbidden lovers. Only a true addict can truly appreciate and understand them.

  24. After being indoors all day long with a series of meetings held, I was tired. Mentally and physically. And just like a number of days during this period of working from home, I needed to rewind. Nothing does it better for me like riding. So I gear up and hit the road. I just have to make sure it is not later than 1800 hours when people start rushing home. The thought of curfew is like booze to a driver. And riders. They will make mistakes that they normally won’t do. They will overtake recklessly and push bikers off the road without remorse.

    Someday in the past. The devil was looking at me too. He was having his evening tea as the Miss left Eldoret. As they were battling turbulence at Kericho, the devil was plotting. Just before I left the house, it started raining. And it was a dark night. I hate riding in rain and at night. But I had made a promise to pick her up and I was going to live up to that; I try to. And to the airport, I rode.

    The signs started.

    Apparently, bikes are not admitted into the airport. I parked at the checkpoint and hitched a ride to the arrival terminal. We met up and made it back to the point I had left the bike and we started the journey to the house. Up Mombasa road with no incident. Just as we neared the University way round-about, some crazy-ass dude in a white V8 drives past us crazily hooting and missing us kidogo. I curse under the helmet. I ride into Forest road, Thika road up Kiambu Road. Just before Ridgeway, I find a bump that wasn’t there earlier in the day when I road by. We almost fly off the bike seeing it was unmarked. I curse again.

    We branch off Kiambu road into the Northern Bypass. The road is wet so we keep the speed low. Just not low enough for the devil with his unlit cigar. 3 minutes to the house, A boda guy with no, reflector, rear light or the idea of indicators or how to use them becomes the agent. Through his movement, I can predict where he is going, only to turn the last minute back into my path and have us run right into him. Or rather, right into a leg of one the ladies he was carrying. And just like that, our heads meet the tarmac. Fortunately, our helmets were well fastened, so there were no head injuries.

    I flew off the handle. I was so mad I could feel my blood boiling. I cursed more. Loudly. The Boda rider was sensible and went ahead to eat a humble pie. He didn’t antagonize us unlike his passengers (pillions). I was ready to kick ass.

    Anyway, my pillion decided to walk to the house. She sustained a broken ego and small bruises. My leg was scraped properly. And swollen.

    The devil walked away. And swore to catch me another day…

  25. What a comparison – hockey & riding. Hockey does look dangerous and I didn’t need to see a friend loose 6 front upper teeth while playing hockey to convince me! Yes, I remember asking my friend, on her hospital bed, if she would continue playing hockey after that! “Why not?”, she retorted, reasoning exactly like Ben, she wouldn’t be ruled by fear! The principle is, it seems, be afraid but go ahead and do it anyway! Whatever what it is! But like Biko, although I love big bikes, the prospect of riding one doesn’t appeal!

  26. Sad story brought out in a beautiful way. Always looking forward to the ‘next story’. Don’t you ever stop writing Biko.

    Pick up line today
    The devil watching all this sighed in disappointment, crushed his cigarette under his boot and walked away. Well, maybe another day.

  27. A great read, even at the end of a long day, just reading this makes me smile at the jokes and sad for this guy who is a bikerholic! Some people just want to live life and not be caged by fear!

  28. He is right about the hockey, you know.
    As for the bile, missus should make it disappear and feign ignorance!!!

  29. In life we have guns pointed at us all times but the real tragedy is when that bullet doesn’t hit you but someone close to you..either way the grim reaper gets his ride or not..matter of personal satisfy that adrenaline still personal..but sadly universally the grim reaper jingles his coins waiting to meet us

  30. I don’t know how to respond to this… a biker too and my Kawasaki Ninja put me in ICU and HDU for two months, i left hospital in pain and had to undergo painful physio …i swore never to get on one till a year later and my wife couldnt stand my sadness, ….now we both ride
    …….it is a blessing and a curse….sighhhh

  31. ” I will be the guy who removes his leg to get in bed. And people would avoid using expressions like, “get a leg up” near him.”
    hehehehehe i don’t know why this got me laughing loud.its sad but funny at the same time. that is Biko for you!

  32. Biko there’s no comparison between hockey and a bike! Having payed for years and still addicted, I own a car and recently bought a hockey stick and bag (all the things I could only dream of during my city park days) I want to resume it in my 5th floor LOL I’ve seen missing/loose teeth, broken legs, broken arms, toes etc and my knees, shins and elbows have 20+years scars but that is nothing compared with riding a bike! Hockey is but a team sport! Riding a bike is a solo move! Mostly a life and death situation, usually at other peoples hands! I’ll choose hockey any day of the week and twice on Sunday! Get well Ben! G please take up field hockey 🙂

  33. Same lecture I got from a young pretty doc at the same hospital early one morning a few years ago, whilst she gave me first aid for what I was later informed was a fractured ankle. And I asked her how did she think humans got to Australia thousands of years ago. How did medicine start without a madman taking that first step.
    Bikes are like rugby, for me at least, because they are very addictive as I think everything dangerous is…which is why soldiers get bored when they are away from war.
    Without thrill seeking humans, we wouldn’t fly, we wouldn’t have motor cars, we would definitely still be in the bush and without fire, so we would never have gotten to the moon. Madmen take us forward.

  34. In the U.S. they call bikers “Organ Donors” because mostly they are are young organs as they are harvested every day hot and full of adrenaline. Mesmerized me the way they weave on the freeway and also if we cannot see people driving big cars from our side mirrors, how are we expected to see these “you guy my guy” fellas? Quick recovery my guy and all the best. I bet you G will have a different kind of fear every time you salute your son and ride off. Biko you are hilarious. You made personified the devil mpaka I saw him putting off his cigarette in disgust.

  35. The two things that put an abrupt halt to men’s short lived life is chasing money and running after women even during this Covid season.

  36. “The devil watching all this sighed in disappointment, crushed his cigarette under his boot and walked away. Well, maybe another day.”

    This reminds me of “The Book Thief”. That book changed me!

  37. I have a BIIIIG crush on big bikes, those fierce ones, I even know where to get the letter gear. All black. Well, the few people I have told about this crush think am crazy, especially because I have a small body, I look like a primary school girl in my 30s and I weigh less than 45 haha, so apparently I hear the wind will blow me off, but one day, One day I will get me a bike.

  38. This just dawned on me that my dad had a bike and he was the baddest hockey player too. None killed him. I can’t do any of them though.

  39. This reminds of a guy on YouTube: François Gissy.
    You can actually feel the adrenaline in your blood just by watching his videos. He didn’t live that long to make more videos though.

  40. As i call him Ari Gold…..just glad the Grim reaper had nothing to write home about.Get well my ninja
    Biko always a pleasure reading from you

  41. Finally some hotshot is talking about a movie I have actually watched…. I had a friend who was almost disfigured by a motorbike accident. He still rides to date. Bike riders drink from a liberty cup of their own-I admire them. They may not necessarily live the longest, but they live the fullest.

  42. I love how he compares riding with Hockey, who would have thought, I will never play hockey, but will definitely ride a bike, its in the top five on my bucket list.

  43. This reminds me of Isle of Man tt. A devilish race which requires titanium balls to participate in.

    A man needs appetite for something. G got for speed and adrenaline. Quick recovery to him though.

    1. I’ve always wanted to ride in the IOMTT. Beautiful scenery and spectacular course. Alongside bucket loads of cohones.

  44. Bikozulu kindly write something on Ken walibora… Research. We will read… His life, family, talents…. A deep story to honor him.

  45. I got my riding license 4 years ago now, before there were X number of women riding groups. I rode twice and sometimes I’m jealous/envious that I’m not part of the clique that felt the fear and rode…..but even when I read these kind of stories which do scare me, my heart still yearns for that ride!

    I hope I get back on a bike soon!

    Get well Ben!

  46. I ride a bike, so I thoroughly enjoyed reading this one. Mine is a Honda CB1000 Super Four, four times bigger than the 250cc in this article. In our circles, that is a small bike your boy was riding. Most of us start from a 250cc. Your boy is a beginner.

    One thing I got to say, he’s not going to stop riding. There is no sign of that. And the sizes will only go bigger from here. I have had about 4 major falls in the 10 years I have been riding. Everytime this happens, I lose large chunks of meat from my legs. Once, I almost completely shaved off my ass on the tarmac. But I still buy bigger and faster bikes. Biking is like eating. No amount of vomiting or food poisoning can make you give up. Please send my regards to your boy, Ben.

  47. For the bikers in the house, we never let our fears take control over us, as long as are alive you live to ride. Quick recovery to Ben and can’t wait for a random ride when you recover and the world wakes up from the nap!

  48. Wallalah, that was a compelling read. I have always fantasized about biking, I hope to own one someday, but Ben’s experience and affirmations have revolutionized my idea of biking and its escapades. I think I’ll be better prepared mentally once I take up the venture.
    Good job Biko.

  49. “ This was not a death strike, Biko. Riding is not a death sport and is not as dangerous as you think. I played hockey in high school, people said the same thing about hockey. Hockey, like riding, is only dangerous to a bad player, a good player with a proper mastery of the stick has nothing to fear.”

    I could never have said it any louder……wonderful stub Biko

  50. I played hockey in high school too. It’s a good sport if you have good players. But you did not want to be pooled with Hillcrest, Patch, MFA, Lenana

  51. A great read as always. This one describes me. I have a dream bike but not a dream car. The Kawasaki Ninja H2R. Or a Ducati 420.

  52. I’ve never ridden a bike (cowards live longer) but have see my share of fatalities, the most memorable one being one that occurred outside my workplace. The roads had to be closed because that unfortunate soul rode his bike into a semi truck (trailer) and was decapitated. It took a while for the cops to locate his head and re-open roads so we could go home. But if he died doing what he loved then more power to him.

  53. “Hockey, like riding is only dangerous to a bad player, a good player with a proper mastery of the stick has nothing to fear”
    Nice read

  54. It’s true about hockey i played it in high school also “is only dangerous to a bad player, a good player with a proper mastery of the stick has nothing to fear”

  55. Biking gives the thrill.

    Dating a biker is fun. Marrying a biker is forever having to hold your breathe when an unknown number calls. Get well soon

  56. I had to settle down to my seat.i read this standing.cant do this to me Biko

    “My policy on motorbikes is the same as with dogs; if you are going to get one, get a very big one”

  57. First of, I’m reading this too late. I don’t even know why.

    Second, Grim reaper will have to wait for another day!

    Third, THE BANKER is not on Netflix. It’s on Apple TV…. and yeah, it’s super good!

  58. Reading the part where G says, “Is this essential?” And I’m like, how did Biko just work the word essential jobs into an interesting story like this haha. Btw Biko is your writing essential? (During this pandemic)

  59. Scooters are for safety freaks who cannot stand the stress of sharing space and air with people in a vehicle. They buy scooters and make sure that all they can carry on the “bikes” is luggage and there is absolutely no space for another human being. Such is me when I need my space and air… Hahahaha… Sissy, maybe!