The Last Wheelie"

Aamir was a young man from Lahore, known among his friends for his daredevil attitude and love for motorcycles. Ever since he got his first bike at the age of seventeen, he had been addicted—not just to riding but to showing off. The thrill of the engine roaring beneath him, the wind against his face, and the eyes of passersby fixed on him gave him a sense of power he had never felt before.

It wasn’t long before Aamir discovered the art of wheeling—pulling up the front wheel of the bike and riding on just the rear. In his circle of friends, it was considered the ultimate act of bravery and style. They practiced on empty roads, in parks late at night, and sometimes even on busy streets. Videos of Aamir doing wheelies started circulating on social media. He gained followers, fans, and a dangerous kind of fame.

His parents, however, were not impressed. His father often warned him, “Son, speed thrills but kills. You’re not invincible.” His mother cried every time she saw another news report about a teenager dying in a bike accident. But Aamir, blinded by ego and the adrenaline rush, ignored their pleas.

One Sunday, Aamir and his friends planned a ride from Lahore to Murree. As usual, they decided to make it flashy. As they crossed highways and winding roads, Aamir led the group, performing wheelies at high speeds. Horns blared around him, but he didn’t care. He felt untouchable.

That changed in a split second.

On a curved mountain road, as Aamir attempted to pull a long wheelie, a car appeared unexpectedly from the other side. Startled, Aamir lost control. The bike wobbled, the front wheel slammed down hard, and the rear tire skidded on the gravel. He veered off the road, and the next moment, his bike hit a rock and flung him several feet into the air.

He landed on the side of the road with a sickening thud. His friends rushed to him, screaming his name. He was unconscious, his leg twisted unnaturally, and his helmet shattered. An ambulance arrived 30 minutes later.

Aamir woke up two days later in a hospital. His spine was injured, and his right leg had multiple fractures. The doctor told him he was lucky to be alive—but he might never walk the same way again.

The news hit him like a punch to the gut. His parents were by his side, tears in their eyes. His mother held his hand tightly, whispering, “Allah ne jaan bachayi hai. Learn from this.”

The following months were filled with pain, surgeries, and rehabilitation. Aamir had plenty of time to think. He watched videos of his past stunts, now with different eyes. He saw not bravery, but recklessness. He saw how close he had come to death every time. He also started reading stories of others who weren’t so lucky—teenagers who lost their lives or ended up paralyzed just for a few moments of thrill.

One day, a boy no older than sixteen approached him at the rehab center and said, “Bhai, I used to watch your wheelie videos. You were amazing!” Aamir paused, then replied, “I was stupid. Don’t follow that path. I almost died for likes and claps. It’s not worth it.”

After his recovery, Aamir started a campaign in his city to raise awareness about road safety. He visited schools, colleges, and riding clubs, telling his story. His bike, now fixed but never ridden again, sat in his garage as a reminder of that fateful day.

He used to think wheelies made him a hero. Now, he believed real heroes were the ones who wore helmets, respected the road, and lived responsibly.

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Moral and Detailed Message:

Wheelies might seem like a harmless thrill, especially to the youth trying to impress friends or social media. But the risks are massive—loss of control, head injuries, spinal damage, collisions with cars or pedestrians, and even death. Moreover, in many countries, performing stunts on public roads is illegal and punishable by fines or imprisonment.

Motorcycles are meant for transport, not for stunts on busy roads. It’s important to understand that a single moment of arrogance or fun can lead to a lifetime of regret or worse, end a life altogether.

Safety gear, traffic rules, and responsible behavior are not restrictions—they’re shields that protect lives. A true rider is one who respects the machine and the people around hi