STARMOTE

Have you guys ever wondered how this 5’5″ man — boy, to be precise — was riding a big-ass bike like a Yamaha FZ?

Yeah. That was me.

My father gifted me this bike when I was still in high school. I think it was during my final year, sometime after the half-yearly exams. I even pasted a sticker on the fuel tank that read “My Dad’s Gift”, just to please him and show how much it meant to me.

That bike was very, very special.

One day, while traveling to Madurai, I saw a huge banner advertisement of the Yamaha FZ. I casually told my father how much I liked it.

The very next week, he bought it for me — full cash payment.

Many of my friends were jealous.
Some were genuinely happy — mostly because they got to ride it too.

At that time, it was probably the first FZ in the entire Dindigul district.

And in this blog, you’re going to see how I wrecked that bike…
and how I manipulated my mom into buying me a new one.

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My mom asked me to leave early, but lazy as I was, I slept. I left Karaikudi only around 6 in the evening. It was already dark by the time I started.

Near Dindigul — somewhere around Gopalpatti — one dumbass had left his tractor loaded with stones right in the middle of the road after running out of diesel. No lights. No warning. Nothing.

I was cruising at around 80–100 kmph.

I crashed head-on.

I didn’t even apply brakes because I had no idea what was in front of me. No one expects a tractor abandoned in the middle of the road at seven in the night.

I survived only because I was wearing a helmet.

Ironically, the accident wouldn’t even have been this bad if I had bought the ₹2,000 helmet my father gave money for. I bought a cheaper ₹1,000 helmet and pocketed the remaining ₹1,000 for the Kodaikanal trip.

So yeah… karma.

After hitting the tractor, I stood up.

And the first thought in my mind was:

Shit. The bike.

Not myself.
Not the accident.
Not whether I was alive.

Just the bike.

People from nearby houses rushed over after hearing the crash and asked me to sit down. Until then, I had no idea what had happened to me.

Then I noticed something.

I was seeing only through one eye.

The other eye was completely shut.

I thought, Great… you’re going to be a one-eyed pirate for the rest of your life.

Then I realized my eyebrow had split open and the skin had peeled down, covering my eye. I lifted it with my hand — and boom — vision restored.

Just a deep cut. Eyes perfectly fine.

Relief.

I gathered my scattered phone and called my mom:

“Mom, I just had an accident. They’ve called an ambulance. I’ll reach home safely.”

No sane person makes that call calmly.

But I did.

My entire family panicked.

Before the ambulance arrived, my brother rushed in our car and took me to the hospital. By the time we reached, around 100–200 relatives had gathered outside. Anyone passing by would’ve thought a politician had arrived or some massive tragedy had happened.

But it was just me.

By God’s grace, despite head trauma, nothing serious had happened. A few stitches, observation overnight, and I was discharged the next day.

From the very next morning, I had only one concern:

How am I going to go to college without a bike?

Going by bus?

My social status would not accept that.

So I had fifteen days to execute a plan.

Any sane mother would never buy a new bike for a son who had just wrecked one.

So… I decided to manipulate my mom.

If you directly ask for a 200cc bike, they’ll buy you a TVS XL or a “safe” scooty.

Unacceptable embarrassment for a college student.

So I aimed higher.

I asked for a 400cc, ₹3-lakh sports bike.

Strategy: ask outrageously high → settle respectably lower.

My mom, still shaken, said:

“By God’s grace you’re alive. Don’t gamble with your life like this… I’ll buy something around one lakh.”

And finally…

We settled on a TVS Apache 150cc.

Voila.
Project Manipulation — Successful.