Walking Girl

Humans are born pedestrians, so people say. But in this modern era, the sentence began to disappear. All sophisticated, not inferior to the ever growing automotive world. Motors and cars increasingly mushrooming in every corner of the city. Not infrequently there is also congestion everywhere like ant troops seen from the skitters. Grounded comfort, more and more vehicle users, many and many.

No exception I am today waiting for the presence of the motor I crave for this. After waiting for so long, the bike was in front of my eyes. The burning red color burns my spirits. Great shape will make me more handsome and respected. My friends must be amazed to see it. How not, this bike is a CBR 1000 RR Fireblade. Dad awarded him on my 17th birthday. How generous he made me determined my future will be a sweet present for him.

The morning dew was cool. The sun began to show its light, illuminating along urban roads. Today the sky looks friendly. There were birds singing in the morning. I arrived at school with the CBR1000RR Fireblade. As expected, thousands looked at the bike. Not a few people offer a speed race. Unfortunately I'm not a cheap racer, so I'm not interested in the offer. My intention is to study school. Although my brain is not mirrored, let this last year be the year of my father's pride.



The classroom was never quiet. Among the crowded classes, there was a silent girl. He is studying the candidates for the problems he will face next year. Najla is a name that means beautiful eyes. I walked over to her. Both brown eyes were welcoming my presence with his gaze. "Uh, Riyadi. What's wrong? "He asked.
I paused, "Najla, can you please teach me about the parabolic vector analysis?"
"Yes I've just sat down. Let me clarify, "he replied. The seconds passed, Najla explained me about concepts and formulas for the sake of formulas. I also began to understand the material, yes though not much I understand. Patiently Najla taught me for hours. Fortunately, it was a free class, which gave the opportunity to master the material. "Riyadi, if you are still there who do not understand. we learn together, yes ".
"Actually, Najla. There's still a lot I do not understand yet, "I replied.
"Then tomorrow we will study again. Tomorrow's a holiday, maybe it's morning. Because the brain is also still fresh "said Najla.
"Tomorrow I'll pick you up?"
"No, Riyadi. I'm on foot. If you do not mind us all morning jogging, "I agreed with Najla's suggestion.

All my life, I have never ridden a motorcycle with Najla. She never liked to ride, except for a great distance. I never know what the reason. Could he have a phobia? But that's a very strange excuse. I was always curious about him, would not he want to try to ride my CBR 1000 RR Fireblade? At other times the girls are very curious about the bike. The girl is indeed unique, she managed to drown me in curiosity.

The day had changed, I drove my bike to the town square. That's where the community gathered to enjoy the time of its space. Arriving, Najla was waiting for me. "Riyadi!" She said from a distance. I got off the bike, and approached him. We also do morning jogging around the square. I tried to ask him some questions because my curiosity had started unstoppable again.

"Najla, why do not you like to ride a vehicle?" I asked
"I do not like it," he replied.
"Do you have a phobia about a vehicle?"
"Not really ..." he paused, "Maybe I want to preserve a culture that is almost extinct in Indonesia,"
"You mean?" I tried to understand her words.

After we circled the square, we crossed the street through the zebra cross. Suddenly there is a motor with high speed almost hit us, exactly hit Najla. I swiftly pulled Najla away from the bike. Jatungku immediately pounded in surprise because of the existence of the motor earlier.
"Are you ok?".
"Nothing ... Thank you, yes," he said sincerely. I was upset with the bike. Though we walk on the zebra cross that its function as a place of crossing. "Ah ... yes. About that question, "Najla's voice broke my thoughts. "I just want to preserve the culture of walking. Unfortunately no one appreciates pedestrians. Whereas every human being is born a foot-pelvan, "

Many days have stepped away from the event. I am more and more diligent study to be able to pass with a satisfactory value. Najla still remains my free private tutor. We used to study in the city library close to the square. Today I promise to study mathematics there. Half an hour before the promised time, I got a message from Najla. The brown-eyed girl told me that she was going to the library. As usual he went there by foot. While I'm still riding my favorite motorcycle. I do not have to leave long before the appointment time. I am more confident will get satisfactory value when graduation later. I began to understand the pattern of problems I would face later. Father would be very proud, especially if I managed to become the best graduate. I can imagine his expression of pride in me.

I was swept up in my imagination making me forget to learn together. I look at the clock on the wall of the room. Soon?! I do not want to be late. Late is not my principle. I rush to wear proper clothes, take my satchel, and motorcycle. I rushed to the library. As a result of my ambition not to be late, I put on high speed. I do not want to make Najla wait too long. Suddenly the green beam is out and the red sign lights up. "Shit!" I thought. I dared to break through the red light. I saw vaguely there was a person in front of me, I tried to stop my bike, and slammed the steering wheel. I do not know what the person's situation is, whether it's just my imagination. I was bouncing, the last thing I saw everybody around me, and the world became dark black.

I woke up on the hospital mattress. I looked at Najla who was beside me giving her the sweetest smile. I just smiled a little. I do not know why Najla is in the hospital. Looks like he was going to visit me or reprimand me because I did not come to the library. "Riyadi already feel better?" Asked Najla.
"S ... udah," I replied weakly. I watched the girl, switching position. But wait! "Why do you use a wheelchair?" I asked. I have not been able to see why Najla uses a wheelchair. But I can not see it clearly. I really wonder what happened.
"I think my dream to preserve this culture is lost," he said, and then glanced out the window. I tried to check it out. Oh no. His legs ... he lost both.
"You? Why is that? "I asked.
"An accident at Zebra Cross," Najla replied.
"Who can beat you?"
"You," she replied simply.