This motorcycle is just so picky picky

ELVIS ONDIEKI is uneasy with this one motorcycle that keeps roaring all over the place.

Ah, this motorcycle is no motorcycle.

It is one machine that is too picky picky. Not picky; picky picky. A fuel guzzler that any man who has ‘it’ can ride.

The ‘it’ varies from guts to money to bravery to just nothing between the ears. I mean, sometimes it requires a man to be dumb enough to ride it. Fools. Or what is the word for those who rush to ride something that angels will scamper for their lives on seeing it?

I wonder: why should one motorcycle be too available for too many? Why not be with one owner like most others? Why, why is it compatible with so many keys?

By the way, how many ccs did Uhuru once place as a maximum among government cars? Was that 2,500? If so, this motorcycle must be 5,000cc. Government contraband.

The picky picky can accelerate from zero to triple digit speeds in a matter of seconds. Some makanikas call that ‘catching fire’ quickly. All it needs is fuelling it well and it can jump to the preference of the rider.

Its revs can be heard from Rongai as the motorcycle cuts through Thika Road. Leave alone those signature Subaru revs that the Banianis like; this motorcycle is the it. Its roar will make you feel (quail) eggs boiling in your stomach.

But it’s not just a noisy affair; it is also a globetrotter: today it is in Kisii, tomorrow in Nairobi, the other day in Mombasa . . . it is everywhere. Some praise it, saying being mobile is a good thing. Good thing? I think it is improper for a machine to traverse such huge distances. What for? Why not have one area of operation?

That’s not all; this motorcycle has killed people. Several men and some women. The other day a man was made to swim in his blood after being stabbed following a fight over it. Then one night, a woman couldn’t stomach the fact that her husband kept calling the motorcycle in his dreams. She decided to tranquilise him for good.

The other day the motorcycle crushed one old man who thought he was experienced enough to engage it on a steep slope. Poor geezer.

Yet the picky picky manages to cut the figure of an innocent work of art. Its deceptive black colour will make you doubt whether it can kill a fly. It is cute. It is attractive. Irresistible.

[Follow this link to see one such motorcycle]