The Two Hundred and Twenty Eighth Story

This is my bicycle. His name is Chupwallah, Chup for short. He's been with me for over ten years. I bought him at a police auction the day after I graduated from college; also the day after my shitty old peugeot was stolen. I've had him for longer than I've lived in any state, longer than the total time I've owned all cumulative cars, longer than I've ever stayed with a human partner. When I first got him, I joked that I rode my bike in the city not because I wasn't afraid to ride my bike; but that I was afraid, and I was also afraid to drive (hell, I was afraid to approach my car. There might be someone hiding in/under/behind it) and I was afraid to walk (someone might accost me) and so, being equally terrified by all options, I took the most convenient one, and that was the bike.
But Chupwallah and I managed to overcome the transcendental fear that had been the background noise of my entire conscious life. The self propelled endurance and constant forward motion made me feel like a badass. The fear faded slowly; so slowly that I didn't notice until years in, when that confidence had already started to spread to other aspects of my life: I started to make the same joke about fear and bikes and realized I was lieing. I wasn't afraid to ride in the city, and I wasn't afraid to drive, and I wasn't afraid to walk. I am still an anxious person. I'm still afraid of strangers and undefined social situations and sometimes I am still afraid of shadows. But Chupwallah taught me what it felt like to not be afraid, and once I learned that, my life fundamentally changed.