She has lost much of her muchness. She was much muchier then. She, being a motorcycle, never leaked oil. She just marked her territory. She used to move souls on two wheels, while the monsters on four, moved soulless bodies across empty streets. It didn’t happen in Philadelphia. It took place right here. When he went to college. And she held his hand. Then things changed. The Japanese walked in. Fixed her leaks. Snipped her curls. She got a new heart. New clones. And she never leaked oil again. But by that time he had moved on. With a new friend, who brought in new responsibilities. She also brought with her a brand new monogrammed trunk to pack all those responsibilities in. He wasn’t satisfied. One night he brought home a four-wheeled monster. She hugged him. He opened the door of his garage. Wheeled out his old friend. And gave the monster a home. Next morning he called the scrap dealer. Dealt his old friend a sad blow. Her heart leaked a little. And then told his wife that he was free. On weekends they took the four-wheeled monster for long drives. The sun was shiny. The mood was fine. He felt safe that she felt safe in the cocoon of four wheels. But there was a catch. He liked the windows open. He loved the wind in his hair. On his face. She frowned when he did that. She had long straight hair. And the wind unsettled its straightness. He understood. Once upon a time he had loved her hair. But it had lost its muchness. He rolled the windows up. He missed his old friend. He felt soulless. Soon after, the stork flew in. He felt much happy. He remembered his father. And called him. Nights fell fast. Cries of his child woke him up. Days passed by. His father died. One more shackle shattered. One more wrinkle etched. His child grew up. Scrapped his bicycle. In came a motorcycle that the Japanese sold. It didn’t leak oil. It didn’t break down. My son will feel free on this, he thought. But the son had friends. And friends had cars. He loved his son. And his son loved cars. Seasons changed. He lost his son to college. His wife lost her husband to the stock exchange. Fun was lost and funds were gained. One day, his son called. He wanted Ralph Lauren. It would free him from peer pressure, his father thought. The trees lost their leaves. Winter set in. Out came scarves. His wife wanted Hermes. It would free her from the cold, he thought. They were driving to a party. His wife had her Hermes. He had his Scotch. But their car didn’t have airbags. And the oncoming truck its patience. The scarf was lost, the Scotch was gone. His wife left Earth. And he became alone. His son cried, got a new job, brought home a new monogrammed trunk and a new friend. This time, the burly Germans got in and got them a brand new monster on four wheels, airbags et al. He felt old and wrinkly and asked his son to drive wisely. Summer passed. So did autumn. And one fine evening, he left home. The desert lost its muchness fast, the plains didn’t do much either. He travelled far and wide till a friendless mountain, as old as him, brought him calm. He stroked his new friend. An old one on two wheels. He found it much muchier. As much as her muchness.
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