The story begins with my dad.
He’s an accomplished businessman, not the signature kind that you’d see in business magazines and news channels. Most don’t know him. He’s a self-made man who outdid common expectations owing to his sheer genius; he is a great father, and a damn good cook who owns a prospering restaurant business. He is that perfect guy who gave his family the world. He is bold, brave and original. Most of all, he is my hero.
I, on the other hand, have not yet found my ground, and, also happen to suffer from a serious case of wanderlust. I like to ride. Hills, plains, dirt roads, they are all inviting sirens calling out to me and urging me to go full throttle. Quite frankly, I always do.
I was in his study this eve, sulking and replaying the terrible argument we had earlier. I felt angry, heartbroken and hopeless. My mind was so numb I had to get away. Yeah, you guessed it right, the woods were calling! Right before I left, I noticed an unfamiliar addition to his bar cabinet. I held this discovery in my hands and read out loud, “Golfer’s Shot.”
“Well, that’s new,” I said to myself. And since I was all alone I took the liberty to pour myself a neat. Damn, that’s simply well made! It reminded me of my father, bold and yet subtle in a strange kind of way. I love myself some fine whiskey and this one tasted too good to be left out of an amazing getaway in the wilderness.
About a few kilometers into the woods, I started losing sense of where I was. Twilight is never the perfect time to enter unknown grounds, I realized. I have never ridden into a forest alone at such hours. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure whether I should have done this. Whatever encouraged the daredevil inside me for such bravado, I do not know. Must have been that whiskey. Damn, that was good, I couldn’t help saying to myself, again! Now that I was in the deep woods, with the ringing of the two-stroke engine playing in my ears and the spirit of the golden liquid lingering on my palate, leaving this place became the last thing in my mind.
My bike navigated through ruts and between trees, doing exactly what it was bred to do. At last, I found the perfect spot to unwind and recharge. Touchdown, I smirked to myself. It was a hard yet good ride. The fact that I made it through on my own made my triumph sweeter.
Now, I’m sitting under the stars, sipping my wonderful new find, trying to figure out my life and whatever is there in this thing that makes it taste like heaven. Dear Lord, that’s it- ingenuity! Yes, that is it. Original, innovative and a class apart! Just like my dad is, just like this whiskey is and just like I am! I mean, my friends are awesome for having successful careers but that doesn’t define me. I don’t do 9 to 5’s! That’s not my thing. This is who I am, I am an explorer and a traveler. I don’t live by the rules like everyone else does, I don’t have to. Take this bloody good whiskey for instance, yes, I like Blenders Pride and Royal Stag, but this stuff is the deal cos it tastes so freaking different! Damn you Golfer’s Shot, maybe it’s time to tell dad how much I am like him. The weekend appears to be good but the homecoming looks grand.
Disclaimer: A story written subconsciously from the hospital bed!