Of the large group of men at the test area that morning, I imagine a significant number must have jumped at the opportunity and accepted the second license for a few rupees.

Think about what bikers mean to you, as residents. If you happen to be a biker, this column will make no sense to you at all, because you will dismiss me as a raving idiot who doesn't understand the pleasure of zooming through the streets. You will pity me for not knowing what it feels like to feel the wind in my hair and the thrill generated by a powerful engine between my thighs. For you, my response is one of sympathy, because you haven't found less inane ways of stimulating your senses.

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No one who isn't a biker will have anything particularly nice to say. Picture them now, those men - they are always men, aren't they? - on their little machines, trying to squeeze themselves into every nook and cranny on every highway, desperate to get to their destination 20 seconds before the rest of us.

Think of them on the pavement, moving past cars stuck in traffic jams, congratulating themselves on having found an illegal route, ignoring the threat to pedestrians as a minor inconvenience they should learn to suck up and accept.

Look how they deal with traffic signals, revving their motorcycles with impatience, always ready to jump a red light if they think there isn't anyone watching, because rules are clearly meant for everyone else.

Then there are the racing gangs. You can hear them even if you haven't seen them because they no longer restrict themselves to Bandra reclamation or Marine Drive. Almost every locality in our city that boasts a long stretch of tarmac has been taken over by these insecure men, desperate to prove how exciting their lives are compared to our own. It is one-upmanship of the most primitive kind, prompting them to risk not just their own lives but the lives of anyone who makes the mistake of being in the vicinity while they race each other.

Last year, around 230 bikers were arrested by police for racing. Authorities found that riding groups had been formed, bets were being placed on the type of bikes used and skill of the riders, and there were also separate races being held for modified bikes.

Think about this for a minute. Nothing about these activities is legal, but we have all been forced to accept them because our police don't have the means to end them.

Motorcycles were responsible for the maximum number of fatal incidents in Bombay between 2014 and 2018. If this year's statistics are low, it will be because of COVID-19 rather than a sudden surge of driving sensibilities. I don't discount the accidents caused by cars, trucks, or tankers, but can't dismiss what safety experts say when they point out that most deaths reported were due to rider negligence.

I believe bikers need their heads examined, to figure out this meaningless need for speed in a city that can't afford it. The inexplicable need that drives these impatient men to celebrate their questionable accomplishments results not just in noise pollution but in the very real risk of death. Innocent bystanders will lose loved ones because the people racing past them don't really understand what they do or why they feel a need to keep doing it.

Racing may be a great sport, but there is a time and place for it. Our streets are not sporting arenas.

When he isn't ranting about all things Mumbai, Lindsay Pereira can be almost sweet. He tweets @lindsaypereira. Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com

The views expressed in this column are the individual's and don't represent those of the paper

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