They took it. My Activa. My humble, two-wheeled companion—snatched by the merciless hands of law enforcement like a rocket prototype that failed to land upright. A moment of carelessness, a few missing documents, and suddenly, I found myself in the bureaucratic abyss of the RTO, staring into the soulless void of paperwork and inefficiency.
Today, I suffered. But tomorrow, they all will.
Picture this: It’s the last day of school, only five students present. A ghost town. The teachers had given up, the classrooms echoed with silence, and yet, the police stood vigilant, ready to strike. I pleaded my case like an underfunded startup pitching to VCs: “Tomorrow is our exam. The students will come on their Activas. None of them will carry licenses. Return at 9:30 AM, and you shall claim more than just my ride—you’ll seize an entire fleet.”
They listened.
If they follow through, tomorrow will be nothing short of an automotive apocalypse. A campus-wide raid, an Activa Armageddon. What happened to me today will happen to many, and my suffering will be avenged in the most poetic way possible: shared misery. A decentralized network of confiscated scooters.
But this is where my story changes. I am never driving again.
I will not fall victim to the system. I will not be a pawn in the traffic police’s grand game of vehicular chess. I have decided—I shall cycle. Let the roads be ruled by those who have their paperwork in order. Let the chaos of combustion engines consume those who dare. I am out.
Some may say, “But you’ll drive again!” No. This is my hard pivot. Until I can buy my own car, hire my own driver, and conduct business meetings from the backseat like a true executive, I refuse to be at the mercy of fines and vehicle seizures. I am done.
Today, I lost an Activa. Tomorrow, others will. But in the long run? I win.
I walk away from this incident a changed person, who just realized that the best way to avoid traffic fines is not to participate in the system at all. The best chess move? Leaving the board entirely.
So, to my dear Activa—rest in impound. You were good while you lasted.
And to my future driver—whoever you are—I look forward to the day I hand you the keys and simply say, “Drive.”