Bulls, Bikes and Baigan Barfi

Today is the World Day for Bulls.  
Just bulls. Not the stuff they produce from, you know, the er...other end of the other side. 
On this lovely day, filled with the most delightful puns (such as "today's news bull-etin featured Fidel Castration" and "Now Cowfirmed: Bulls love chocolate moos"), here is a piece that I had written some years ago about one bull that made its mark (actually, it nearly did). 
Read on..

Recently, I was at a farm with a group of friends, one of whom  came on his BMW bike.  Now, if you haven’t seen these, they were originally armoured tanks, which have been sliced longitudinally, with great big boxes on either side of the rear wheel to accommodate a giraffe and his mother-in-law’s opinions.  

As we were at the gate, preparing to return – we in a car, with Mr. Big Muscle Wonder on BMW in front- a young bull that had been grazing nearby turned up and stood right in front.  He (the bull) had an odd gleam in his eye and stared unblinkingly at the BMW with some disdain, looking askance.  

Now, there are only two reasons for a bull to stare at a BMW unblinkingly and look askance.
a) He has a problem with Germany’s trade surplus; or
b) He doesn’t like the bike.
The prudent course of action (recommended in the book Bees, Birds and Bulls-that-stare) is to not discuss the trade deficit with him but to retreat slowly keeping your eye on the opponent and with your stance ready (head behind the gloves, chin slightly down, eyes over the gloves).

   Well, Big Muscle did none of these.  He tried to shoo Bull away by saying (what else) ‘Shoo’.  When Bull showed no remorse, he tried again, in a louder tone and sounded the horn (the only instrument that is present in both the players concerned).  Bull showed surprise and took four steps back, but what Big Muscle saw as retreat was merely Bull marking his run-up.

The BMW took off down the dirt track followed closely by the following forms of transport:
• The Bull

It was evident that Bull’s AI has been programmed with the code ‘Stay six inches from BMW bikes’ and he raced behind a terrified Big Muscle, who now tested the bike more than its engineers had ever imagined (unless a BMW engineer once asked, ‘Gosh, is this bike safe from bulls?’).  

We took off too, our driver planning to intercept the possible liaison of Bull and BMW and for the next two minutes we followed the race closely, the BMW winning, but the Bull just behind (Hertz: We Try Harder).  Even as Big Muscle increased the speed to Mach 1, his rear view mirror (Caution: Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear) showed the following scenery:
• The Bull

When they reached the first bend – the real F1 test – the Big Muscle (+ giraffe + mother-in-law’s opinions) took a sharp turn to the left, while Big B took the Euclidean route – Geometry is always where bulls score an A – and shot off straight, changing his direction only a second later on realising that there were shrubs in front, grasses in front, even maybe the odd cow in front, but no BMW. 

At the next curve, he met Big Muscle (but not cordially) and nearly made a dent in the Giraffe Box, to repair which Big Muscle would have to take a housing loan (a bull costs only 30k, even an overfed, angry one.  Big Muscle would have gladly bought a hundred cows to placate this fellow, and still saved money to buy a 1 BHK).  But he, the Bull, missed this opportunity to make his mark (no, not the Deutsche Mark, we are not obsessed with world trade) and then lost steam, merely trotting beside our car in deep regret.  

A kilometre later, a sweating Big Muscle was waiting for us, examining his bellowed bike (an utterly despicable pun, this).  “Shit,” was all he could say.  

On reflection, he did seem lighter.