Okonta bestowed a new nobility upon an aging Frajend XLC. He swapped new parts for fatigued ones - for instance, a pair of new tyres with a green strip running around them. Okonta lavishes delicateness tending to the perceived needs of this machine. He has even arranged for regular servicing by an expert mechanic. By a sixth sense, he foresees profound adventures ahead for himself and his motorcycle.
Okonta has begun to shuttle between the two ends of the new inter-state route, over a newly built road, broad, bevelled, and glistening grey. The road covers five short kilometers between two burgeoning cities staring at each other by means of a huge billboard at each end of the road. The boards blaze bright and are fiery-coloured during the day. At night, they are luminous and even more colourful with electricity. Day and night, they keep watch, like forths, over the rush of traffic along the route. For six hours every weekday, between six a.m. and noon, Okonta criss-crosses the road, on his motorcycle turned taxi, clad in tight-fitting clothing and a sleek, large-sized helmet. His passenger grips a seat edge and squints into the wind.
Afterwards, Okonta returns home and sits astride the bench in the porch, and plays whot with Onome. Along with card hands, he trades the day's rumours.