Speed Demon and the missing ID.

I'm a man.

Well, at least when it comes to riding. I zip i zap i zoom i bend around curves like a racer and abuse people on the road with an "Eyyyyyy!" growled out like some gangster and generally wreak havoc. The only womanly thing i do when i'm on the bike is dangle my legs the old-fashioned Bollywood way in tune to the common and irritating 'Lalalalalalalala' background music of songs.

Yesterday, i was taught my lesson.

I met Sister K and her friend at WoodStock for lunch. (I had a big glass full of Kahlua Mousse that was dipped and bathed in Kahlua. Like the Kobe cows in whose skin beer is routinely - and lovingly - rubbed in, it seemed like the Mousse ingredients were infused with copious amounts of Kahlua individually, mixed, and were then doused in some Kahlua. That's how strong it was. And delicious.) Because i was getting late for work, i ran out, wore my helmet, wrapped my work ID-cum-swipe card around the bike handle, jumped on the seat and zipped. Three minutes away from work, as i was gloating about the fact that i managed to make it back in record time, i looked down at my dangling ID card to make sure it wasn't flying away.

The ID had gone. Vanished. No clue where, when or how. Wait, i figured the how. The hook that holds the ID card to the rest of the noose that's supposed to go around my neck was loose. The ID had fallen out.

I had to retrace my steps all the way back to WoodStock. And i had to do it real...slow. My panic was not how i would get back to work, but what the possibilites of a fake ID could be for anybody who could find it. It had my name, accompanied by a grumpy picture of me. I'm a Muslim, they could use that information and make me a terrorist!

Heart pumping, i went back. No, i crawled back on my bike, scanning every inch of the asphalt for a rectangular patch of plastic. People honked, some shouted, some tried to run me down (almost), but i didn't care. I needed my ID back, that's all that mattered.

I finally found it near WoodStock, on the service road i travelled back on. I was so overjoyed that i could have kissed it hard and long, except that many tyres had already left their mark on it. I did bite it, though. Okay, i bit the hook of the noose after inserting the ID to stop it from falling out ever again.

And then all the way back, i thanked God a bazillion times for not letting my ID fall into anybody's hands. And to show my gratitude some more, i rode back slow. Real slow.