Rough.riders.

This is not what it sounds like. Here I will regale you with tales of brave men who according to national statistics (do we even have those) 86% of whom have balls carved out of pure steel.

All of us have encountered these guys, commercially or as friends, if you haven't, believe me you have missed much my friend.

I for one am adventurous. I like riding things if you know what I mean. No, that's not what I mean, you pervert. I like bikes or okada if u may. There's just this feeling that comes with having the wind in your eyes, sun on your face and terror on your mind. And, and they are cheap, almost reliable and they go where mortal wheels(taxi's) dread to tread.

Stuck in a mile long gridlock? No p. Just call an okada, bush path in the village? No probs. Call an okada, or do u need a get-away vehicle for when you eventually decide to rob a bank(a tempting idea given this economy) say it with me; call an okada.

Awesome, so now that I have sold you on okadas, here's why you should burn them. Keep your popcorn handy, this right here is worthy of an Oscar

#sucks teeth# alryty

It was a Thursday, or Friday, it could have been a Monday. I was writing my school leaving exams(ya WAEC, who writes NECO). I decided to use the very long interval between my papers to do something fun, learn to ride my friend's motorcycle.

The afternoon was hot and Samardina(let's call my friend that) lent me his bike, complimented my mental acuity and pointed out the needlessness to teach me how to actually ride the damned thing and given the praise, I could only smile like a hamster high on weed. So Sam showed me the brakes, the gears and the gas(throttle)...he practically just said a bunch of stuffs. I nodded quite coolly knowing I would look like a lil bitch if I asked him to ride with me, you know as my guide. This stupidity may or may not be due to the presence of some individuals of the opposite sex watching in sheer awe at my figuratively humongous balls.

Long story short, I set about mounting the bike which was a huge success, I kick-started it.
''Everything's cool, you got this" was my mantra. I wanted to go for "you not a lil bitch, you brave" but who was I kidding"

Alas! Motion!! I was actually moving! It was the most amazing feeling ever! I rode and rode admits chants of my awesomeness and for a split second I thought, pls don't laugh, I thought I was the night rider so I proceeded to perform a little stunt for the benefit of my spectators or my huge ego that is immaterial. I took my hand off the handle just for a few seconds.

Well, things went down hill from there, me, the bike. My fall made Jack and Jill's look like child's play. No pun intended.

There was silence, which I thought was a bad thing until a roar-like laughter ensued amongst my dear fellow students. Don't worry I wasn't seriously injured, except of course for a few bruises here and there, on my knee, ankle, ego.

Now this is something I want to clarify and I hope some of you guys there that day read this. I DID NOT CRY. See, what happened was, there was a lot of dust and some of it got in my eyes and their was no water around so nature decided to lend a helping hand, unlike you douches! And my eyes got a little wet just to wash away the dust and not as a response to any pain or embarrassment whatsoever!

My experience apart, according to national statistics; motorcycles cause 86% of road accidents and a few sea accidents I've seen. The other 14% is due to ignorance or goats or any combination thereof (I mean ignorant goats). They don't know traffic rules and signs mostly because unlike with cars, there are no riding schools (fore said goats).

So you can understand my transition to team four wheels. And I haven't been driving for long and these guys are beginning to get on my nerve endings. Not unlike MTN, they are everywhere you go! In other to beat traffic, these guys part the red sea everyday, Moses, in the words of Olamide, is a learner compared to them.

And you would think these things should at least have a weight limit on them. It always makes me nervous when I see a hungry-man sized person on a bike, too many things could go wrong!

Now in reference to the above story, do not draw to any hastily unfounded conclusions that I am a sissy. Personally I eat danger for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But the idea of losing a testicle to a bike accident seems hardly appealing.

Do you know what's even worse? As incredible as it sounds, I have had even worse experiences than my little accident at the hands of these commercial motorcyclists and I'm the amateur! I know right? Unbelievable! So since I obviously am not to blame, I won't blame the bikers either. That leaves only the bikes themselves to blame. Yes! The motorcycle did it!! Bad motorcycle, bad.

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And the Oscar for best motion picture goes to......