Reading (Seeing) between the lines

At the age of 13, all I wanted was a bicycle that I could ride to my tuition classes and get some control over my life, even if it was for some time, and get a sense of that freedom. I wanted to get rid of those car drops and those irritating curfews I had to follow, of the guy who was driving me to these classes. On the occasion of Dusshera, my mom and I went to this big Cycle showroom where there were 100s of cycles arranged in aisle format, ranging from different numbers of gears to different types of tires to different types of uses and patterns. 100s of them hanging by the ceiling, and the smell of something new flowing from all directions, with cold air brushing my face. I was on cloud nine, excited to buy my first cycle and ride it. Everyone in my family knew this new hobby of mine to buy a bicycle wouldn't last for more than 2 months, and I’ll get bored with it, but no one complained or asked me twice whether or not we have to buy this bike. After selecting my dream cycle, we were waiting for the repair guy to change the wheels with a brake stand, adjust some spokes, apply the new seat cover, and give it a final polish. Aah, the smell of a new bike. After we bought the cycle, I requested my mother to let me ride it home alone, as I am gonna do it anyway for the classes. I was not expecting a yes from her on the first try, but whatever helps me speed up the process. She went ahead on her scooter, and I was pedaling slowly-slowly through the traffic. Halfway through, I don’t know why the chain of my cycle fell through, and that stopped my cycle in a millisecond, forcing me to go forward and slightly bruising my foot. A scarier thing, apart from that, was the damage my cycle went through within an hour of buying it. I took the cycle on the footpath and started to fix the chain, filling my hand in Greece, failing miserably until by some miracle I got it and then again after that I was happily riding my bike through the street thinking of myself as some guy on a new motorcycle, revving his silencer, speeding through their neighborhood and trying to be cool infront of my dad and mom. The next day, when I rode the bike to my classes, this adrenaline rush was killing me, speeding to reach the classes as early as possible so that I could get more time to show off, I was not expecting the criticism I got. “Why not a gear one?”, “Why is it missing the front rod?’, “Who the hell gives up being dropped and picked up by a car for this?”, “wasn’t there a better color than this shiny olive green?” Some comments were positive, and these are the only ones I remember to this day.

10-key words:
Excited, Nervous, Mesmerized, Disappointed, Frustrated, Proud, Confused.