One year later, the bones have healed, but the spirit to ride, to feel the wind, to take the curves on the road still soars!!
Can’t wait to get on the bike on the 24th morning after an all nighter at work (yes, it’s quarter-end time again) and head out to Ooty – one of my favourite places - to take part in RM 09, hosted by us, RTMC.
See you there!
The ride to the second RM was a lot easier because I had done the route before and we were riding in a big group. RM was happening in Ramoji film city, and I really wanted to partake in the entire experience, so I consciously decided not to carry work. Thankfully, because of my past record, I got a colleague to act as back up for the two days that I was away.
The group had fun riding, but after a long, hard day on the road with the destination nowhere in sight, patience started wearing thin. Some members wanted to stay the night in Hyderabad and leave in the morning, but finally, after a lot of deliberation, we decided to ride on. When we finally reached, it was the Cinderella story in reverse! – it was close to midnight, the party was just starting, there was a lot of activity and hot food. So much better than being cooked up in some hotel and cold sandwiches for dinner!!
I was staying in the dorm inside Filmcity. When the organizers were escorting me to my room, I was too tired to notice the roads or landmarks leading up to the dorm … which made for a rather interesting next day! I decided to get an early start the next day to catch up with the other folks over coffee and breakfast. I had grossly underestimated the vastness of the film city, and became Alice in the Film City Wonderland. I kept going round in circles and had practically toured the entire city on my purple and white bike. I got some very interesting directions from security guards that led me to the airport, railway station, a nearby film set…. Everywhere except where I had to go! I finally managed to reach the actual venue with the help of one of the organizers, just in time for breakfast. Everyone who was present at the previous RM kept pulling my leg about my ‘missing’ laptop bag. I played along saying I just finished shooting for a song on a bike at the film city!
I had a wonderful time at RM – partying and dancing on the lawns on both days with the nights being surprisingly cool and pleasant. I also made sure that I took the complete tour of the film city, much to the amusement of the security guards who saw me riding around the previous day.
The ride back from Hyderabad to Bangalore was quite eventful – one of the couples fell on the badly lit highway and we had to make sure they were taken care of. We reached Bangalore late at night. Inside the comfort of my warm home, I started to wonder about the fact that the same route was done a year back in about 10 hours and in complete daylight. This time, it took almost 16 hours, and we rode well into the night. Was it because we were such a large group? Maybe, I had just become older and my weary bones were beginning to feel the pain of being on a bike and riding for that long!!!
Rider Mania RTMC Ishtyle is just around the corner, and I am salivating at the thought of attending. Not in a bad way though!
If food is dangled before a well behaved dog, it will follow it with its entire concentration. The food moves left – the dog’s head moves left. The food moves right – the dog’s head moves right. It’s tounge lolling and dripping wet with anticipation. The wait is excruciating. The entire body is rigid, waiting for that moment when the master will release the food so that it can jump and grab it. Pet owners will know what I am talking about, and right now, at this moment in time, that only thing I resemble is that well behaved dog. And Rider Mania is that dangling piece of food.
A lot of things must be done and taken care of before we leave for Rider Mania RTMC Ishtyle – like getting the Pollution under check certificate. We are passing through a national park – the Bandipur forest reserve, so it is our duty to ensure that we do not disturb the environment. Then there is that matter of insurance – it is depressing to note the value of your bike as assessed by the insurance office.
Then of course making sure the bike is road worthy, and that it stays that way the entire stretch. As far as I am concerned, Ooty is almost like a back yard ride, but then anything can go wrong. Never hurts to be prepared. This bike has never had a puncture so far, so I always carry the puncture kit. It is after all the season of “change”, Barrak Obama and everything. So there maybe that first time puncture experience on this bike for me. But I am not looking forward to changing tubes in the middle of a freaking national forest surrounded by wild Dholes, Furious elephants, serious Gaurs. And I’m certainly not looking to convert a game eating tiger into a man eating one either. Think of good things da! Useless fellow!
Ooty as you folks very well know is a “hill station”, i.e. cold in the summer kinda place, but that they forget to tell is that it is also freezing in winter. Zoiks! Right, freezing, at least for us guys from down south, where the body is more accustomed to 30+ degrees and a fair bit of humidity. So it is highly recommended that you get some warm clothes along. Or maybe you’d like to use the onion strategy – i.e. wear multiple layers of T-shirts. Either which way be ready to get your self frozen all over.
Now Ooty by itself has a lot of things to see and do, but if that is what you have in mind, then there is no point attending the Rider Mania anyways. So if you really want to experience Ooty then you’d probably keep a day or two after/before RM for that excursion. This is a long weekend, with 26th being republic day, so hotel booking may be available around those dates. Better check though.
In the mean while let me go back to finding that blasted puncture kit… woof woof.
My first ride to Rider mania brings back a lot of fond memories. I had just completed my first 20-day long ride to Rajasthan - Pushkar, Ranthambore, the Sum sand dunes, Jaisalmer, Vadodara, and rode back to Bangalore via Pune. I’d also had my very first fall on the bullet in Belgaum, and my first fracture - a hairline crack in the wrist – and was out of action for 4-8 weeks after that.
The bike was beautifully redone after that fall, to what you see presently, and now it was time to show this lovely lady off at a country-wide biker event. Hence the careful and meticulous planning for RM07 at Nagpur started.
The ride coincided with the quarter-end for the company, but I promised my manager to carry work with me, and got all the necessary remote access data cards in place before I actually left for the event. We had planned a stop over at Hyderabad, so I verified that the folks who were to put us up had Internet connectivity. So I would be truly cut off only while I was on the road, riding the last leg of the journey.
Just a day before we were to leave for Hyderabad, while we were getting some final check-ups done on the bike, communal tension hit Bangalore. And I was like `Damn, I’m not gonna miss this ride after all the planning!’ I managed to wheel the bike out of troubled areas, and just about managed to catch up with my ride partner Prashanth, the next morning at Mekhri circle.
We headed out on the Hyderabad Highway through heavy fog. For a first timer like me, it felt like zero visibility. Thankfully, Prashanth has had considerable experience in sub-par conditions such as these (to put it mildly 
), and I just kept to his tail lamp. Ironically though, after the skies cleared, we had to battle the scorching sun. Moreover, the barren landscape meant stiff crosswinds, but we managed to reach the friendly city of Hyderabad, without any events, by about 4 in the evening.
I remember receiving a call from the orthopedic guy just about then, saying my wrist should be good to start riding the bike. And I was like “I’ve just ridden to Hyderabad, so don’t waste money, I’m on roaming..lol :-)” We also took the bike to a local mechanic to check my rear tyre. We discovered that a nail and torn it, a nail protruding from the carrier that had been fitted just the day before. So much for last minute jobs We got the tyre changed, and headed off to a friends place for some amazing biryani.
We started from Hyderabad even before the sun rose so that we could reach Nagpur before sunset. There is something about riding on the highway in the dark just before the sun rises, to see how a bright light dispels the darkness, and how all things come to life.
We arrived at Nagpur without any events on the evening of 22nd, in true Bangalore techie style, with laptop in tow. The organizers were extra nice to even accommodate me in a room that had the best remote data card connection, at an even more remote and beautiful resort.
The purple bike with the white trim was an instant hit. Folks were astounded to see the beaut. Unfortunately, I had to constantly juggle between work and the events, but still had a wonderful time. I missed most of the final RM07 late-night party, so the gang had a round two especially for me.
We were exhausted the next day, so we decided to spend another day in Nagpur before heading back. We are very thankful to Anukaran Singh’s (WanderLust founder) folks for putting us up that night.
We retraced our route back through Hyderabad to Bangalore the next day. The return trip was much more arduous, with the sun beating down mercilessly. Still we reached Bangalore without much ado. On the whole, I had a great time at RM, despite having spent about half the time glued to the laptop.
So we’re at the Casuarina Beach Resort on East Coast road. You enter the resort, the driveway is lined with bikes as far as the eye can see. Bullets of all shapes and sizes fill the entire landscape. TB’s, standards, Machismos, 500s, and some bikes which are so heavily modified that it’s impossible to tell what it started off as.
Lazing on the sands, I meet some pretty extraordinary folk. Extraordinary in my book would probably be equated to “completely off rocker” by Mr. Average Citizen of India. But, extraordinary, none the same.
There’s this kid named Karan Verma from Delhi, who’s ridden through all the 29 states of India in 39 days. And he didn’t look old enough to have a license yet. There’s this grizzled old timer who’s been riding Bullets from way before we were born, his first bike having been imported from England. There’s this humongous dude who everyone calls Big Moe. I asked him exactly how big he was, and he picked my 78kg frame as one would pick up a glove. He casually threw me over his shoulder for good measure. Took me a while to get my bearings after that, I can tell ya.
Another very interesting person we get to meet is Mr. GSC Bose, a retired motorcycle racer from way back when. A bullet lover himself, he has won innumerable trophies racing bullets in his hey day.
I met folks from all clubs from across India on that beach there; Survivors from Chandigarh, Beasts from Delhi, Shakers from Pune, Wanderers Hyderabad, and WanderLust from Nagpur. We had the Eastern Bulls from Calcutta, and the Gujarat Bulls from Vadodara, and practically everyone from in-between.
One pathway in the resort was earmarked for modified bikes competing in for the prize of “Best Modified Bike”. A considerable crowd always lingered around these beauts. That evening, the DJ set up his console on a stage just off the beach, and all the bikers HIT the dance floor.
The next morning, most of us extract ourselves from bed rather reluctantly. Breakfast done, the entire crowd of over 400 bikes ride in procession down east coast road for a distance, before we turn back. Some folks relax in the pool, but the vast majority are hanging around near the modified bikes. It sure was hard to keep our eyes off those.
Press folks kept milling around the area, with mikes and cameras. We spend the afternoon lolling on the beach again, as we hear the grunts and cheers of the arm-wrestling contest behind us. That evening, the stage is lit up again. Three clubs make presentations: Shakers, Survivors and Us. The “Best Modified Bike” is announced, a tie between Nitin Jadhav from Baroda and a bike from Jaf in Chennai.
The dance floor is scorched for the second night in a row, but more memorable was the session after that, when Anukaran from WanderLust played his Guitar and sang for us.
The next morning, the entire crowd leaves, in bits and pieces and heads to the race track in Sriperumbudur. The track was booked that day exclusively for racing Royal Enfields. We had a gala time, with practically everyone putting in practice laps. The actual race was held later, and a guy from Delhi was adjudged winner. Adrian from RTMC was a close second.
We riders each took our individual roads home from the race track, with our indefatigable machines, that enduring symbol of durability, our beloved Royal Enfield Bullets.
It’s around a week to go for Rider Mania RTMC Ishtyle as I write this. And it was around 10 days ago that sadly all the air was punched out of my rear.
Now don’t take it either literally or figuratively. My posterior’s pretty safe.
I mean to say that on Monday, 12th of January 2008, at around 8.00 in the evening, all the air went “phutttt” from the rear wheel of the Bullet. Yes, it was a “Puncher” (which is how most people pronounce it this side of the country and which is how most “Puncher” repair shops advertise themselves).
Unfortunately, I was not on the highway for any major ride, else I would have been prepared with tools, spare tube, foot pump, et al..
Fortunately, there was a puncture shop just across the road, so I push the Bullet (which was an excellent exercise for the shoulders, the biceps and the lungs, considering that the rear wheel had gone really “Flat”) there.
Now, I don’t know how it is across other major metros in our country, but in Hyderabad most puncher repairers do it the Nawabi Jugaad way.
I mean, they don’t remove the tyre.
No, they don’t.
They will talk to you about this and that while they first remove all the air.
Then, they will bang on the tyre to loosen it a bit, bang some more to loosen it a bit more and so on, depending on how much they want to impress you.
Then, they will get around to using the a set of levers to prise out the tyre from the rim, bit by bit, till the tyre and the rim are…umm..”gapped” and reach in and pull the tube out.
Of course, just before they pull the entire tube out, they will loosen the nut that’s there at the valve of the tube and remove it.
Thus, the wheel is still on the bike, the tyre can’t interfere and the tube all ready for poking and inspecting and well…. err.. ready for more “punchering”.
What this puncher repairer found was that the puncher was at the neck itself.
So he says, “Tube badalna padega Saab.”
To which I say, “Tube dikhao.”
The tube doesn’t inspire any confidence in me (though it is of the right rating, 3.25X19), so I prevail on the puncher repairer to repair the neck and (mistake, mistake) go to the Cafe besides to order a Chhai.
Naturally, by the time I am back, he has “discovered” another puncher…and says there is no nail or shard of metal embedded anywhere in the tyre.
Pointless cribbing over spilt milk, Beer or manufactured holes, so I get that repaired too, pay him only for one and half puncture repairs and ride back home.
The next day, I get caught up at work and don’t get time to replace the “necked and nicked” tube with another.
The day after, I resolve to spend 2 hours on the way home to ensure that my rear end is relatively safe on the highway (I mean get the dodgy tube replaced with a new one) and walk to the office parking with a determined “we will set things right” stride.
To be greeted by, yes…you guessed it right…another Flat!!
It’s a bit late in the night for gymming and exercise (pushing the Bullet) and running around to get a proper (MRF in my case) branded tube, so I just pat the Bullet “Good Night” and head out home.
The next day, I push the Bullet to a mechanic’s place, get the tyre removed, leave it with a somewhat trusted puncher repairer, get into an Auto and get a brand new 3.25 x 19 MRF tube.
Was that the end of it?
Surely you are an optimist my friend.
It’s like this. The rim is stainless steel (supposed to be, at least), but the insides are well and truly rusted, and I see daylight at a couple of places! Which means, going forward, if I am on the highway with this rim behind my behind, whenever the cracked portion of the rim kisses the road (through tyre and tube), both the tube and the tyre could simply get “punched” through by some errant and loose spoke!
Ha! How can stainless steel rust? Most importantly, howcan a tourer like me let my Bullet’s maintenance schedules rust!
Okay, since this is a blog and not a ramble, let me stop rambling.
Upshot is that the cracked rim has now been separated from the new tube with some rubbers. And, I have to get the rim changed.
And speaking of maintenance schedules, I still need to get the Bullet serviced!!
But hey, Rider Mania RTMC Isthyle, here I come!
For a long-standing solo rider like me, any company is always welcome; but in this instance, getting to ride with RTMC was a privilege, so what if we were only 4 Bullets!
It’s another thing when you are riding in a small pack, early in the morning, bugs entering your mouth, your nose, your eyes and you take your bike up through the gears, till the sound of the engine fills up more than your ears, till it fills up your very soul.
Man, was I happy!!
The stretch till Kollekal is heavenly, four-laned almost all the way, and it sure was bliss, overtaking the trucks, seeing the others all lit up in the my rear-view mirror and slowly but surely - as one familiar landmark after the other fell by - letting the magic of the road fill my being. And then, with the skies lightening into dawn, we reach Kollekal and I turn left and pull into the A-1 Plaza.
First thing GR says when his helmet comes off is “Why did you turn and stop man, the ride was heavenly”. But then, this is where he wanted to turn back from, so that is what he did and we also rode ahead in no time as there was no Tea available at the place.
After Kollekal, it was Deepa who was leading; I take off after her and note that Prashant is talking to the Reliance Bunk attendant. There’s no sign of Prashant as Deepa flies in front of me. By now the light is getting brighter and I note that the quaint water-logged quarry before Toopran where I have stopped on a number of times to watch the water-birds is getting filled up.
Maybe the right place to put up another A-1 Plaza or some swanky resort, eh??
We ride on, me happy to tail and maintain a safe riding distance, doing a nice 80-90 and drinking my fill of the green Turmeric and the just awakened Sunflowers, even as trucks get overtaken and Sumos and Cars on the wrong side get the middle finger. Then I see a blazing headlight on my right and yes, Nomad is here. Prashant also seems content on riding herd and we do exactly that for something like 20kms or so and then he suddenly high-tails it.
I am content being on the highway, happy with my pace and not keen on pushing this bike I love so much, so I see Prashant and Deepa become specks in front of me and then disappear, till we link up again, when I see them parked on the left side of the road at Narsingi. I tell Prashant everything is okay but I am not happy with the way the bike is moving and that I will carry on at my pace.
He wanted to know where the next A-1 Plaza is but it’s a while since I was on this road and 2 years or so back there weren’t that many A-1 Plazas. So we start off again and the bikes in front of me become specks again. A bit after, a blue Thunderbird comes pretty close to me on the right side, the rider gesticulates, I say, Hi, Hello, etc. Evidently he can’t hear over the din of two Enfields, he now comes to the left, tries to pull his Balaclava down to talk, I shout and say “You must be Deep, Prashant is up ahead”, he falls back and then in a burst of heavy truck traffic, I lose sight of him.
If you are lucky enough to be on a road when the light is that of a full-blown golden winter morning, you can’t just ride through, you get touched to the through. I can see the water birds in the ponds, road side ditches and the small stretches of wetlands. I want to stop and put the camera to use, but I am pretty happy just riding along. From Ramayampet to Kamareddi is a lovely wooded stretch where the road dips and snakes nicely and this is where, while I am having fun with the throttle that I see two RE’s parked on the left side of the road and Prashant up-ending a bottle. Before my heel can crash on the neutral finder, Prashant waves me on and I ride on, enjoying the sights and the beginnings of the usual pain in the butt.
At Indalvai, I finally get to have a long delayed Chai! By now, my legs are getting a bit cramped and my back paining a bit and I do need to have a water and Tea break so I pull over to the left at Indalvai, buy some Chotta Gold Flakes from a shop and three RE’s come along, the Blue Thunderbird in the lead. Prashant is all eyes and blazing headlight, but this time I wave him on, I do need that Tea and I do need some time for the bike to cool off.
I managed to have the Tea without having to remove the jacket and once on the road I finally get proof of AP10R8691 not being in the pink of its health. Why? Where the road is straight, perfectly flat and with nary a pothole on it, the bike seems to want to go to the edges, right into the fields. I am bloody pissed and am like, “wtf, the rear tyre is new, the rear sprocket and chain is new, my attitude to life is new, then why isn’t this bike the Don of the old?” I hold back a bit more of the throttle and gentle the bike along at 60kph and realize that this is no wobble from the wheel. And resign myself to riding along. After all there is a road ahead and I have all day to do something like 350 kms.
Riding alone is something that has never worried me and I have always had the bad habit of looking all around me when I ride. So, I do just that, enjoying the views from a motorcycle’s seat, cutting out the frills, holding onto a steady 80kmph, gulping mentally when the bike weaves and still grinning from ear to ear from the thrill of being on the road. The sunflowers are more than what I can count and I also spot small patches of what could only be flowering Onions while the rest of the canvas I am riding through is green, just transplanted, growing rice.
And then, I do not really know when, I am suddenly passing through fields and fields and fields of Millets. Some are green all through, some are green and ripening golden, some are green and ripened red. So, I decide to stop and get a couple of quick snaps for my memoirs. Back on the bike, after a quick smoke in shade (did not remove the leather Jacket) I mosey along, wondering if I should stop for breakfast or try and catch up with the rest of the guys. So I don’t stop at Balkonda (there are a couple of hillocks here that look as if they are a pebble heap made by some supernatural child) I don’t stop at Son Gad (a small and solitary fort on the right side before Nirmal), I don’t stop at Kadthal (there are three statues here, one of Mahatma Gandhi, one of Subhash Chandra Bose and one that looks like that of Lord Rama, but maybe is of Alluri Seetaramaraju), I don’t stop at Nirmal fort (bang opposite is Nirmal tank and man, oh man it was full of ducks and any number of other water birds) and I for once don’t stop in Nirmal either.
Once through Nirmal, I note that there is a A-1 Plaza on the left, just before Mahboob Ghat starts, but I don’t see any RE’s parked there, so I get going and hit the ghats. The fun of riding in the ghats is not for me, I am too intent on ensuring the bike doesn’t go off the road, but somehow manage to ride on, noting that the monkeys are out as usual (this stretch always has monkeys on the road, probably because most truckers throw Roti and other food crumbs at them) and that the stretch isn’t as green and cold as it was last time I rode through here. By now, it’s getting hot in the leather jacket so I don’t take the turnoff to Kuntala (AP’s highest waterfalls) either and ride on wondering if Prashant and the others are behind me or ahead of me. Finally, I stop at Adilabad, its around 11.30 in the afternoon and I see a SMS from Prashant, saying that they had stopped at a hotel Nirmal to my right, at around 9.45. I ask around for Hotel Nirmal (for all I knew that could be the name of a hotel), ask everyone who looks at me if three RE’s have passed by, they say “No”, so I decide to ride on.
While intent on roaming and wandering, I was aware that I needed to stop somewhere and activate the roaming on my cellphone, but somehow I went on avoiding doing that and finally I was already in Maharastra. Now I had another major worry, my bike hit reserve and the two bunks I come across were out of petrol too. But then, I am kind of used to hitting reserve all across the country (the joke is entirely on me) so I hunker down and ride on. Entering Maharastra, the first thing I note is that the roads are no longer the millpond smooth ones behind me, but patchy and broken in a number of places. This means that there is more than a weaving bike to now contend with, every vibration of the bike making me feel as if I am on a rack, driving a million needles into the nerves at my elbows, knees and wrists.
Ouch, but I do deserve all this pain, I have been stupid to not ride for so long, and must say I have got used to the comforts of city living. I finally tank up 30 kms into Maharastra, @ Bori, with probably a spoonful of juice left in the tank and its one more reason to like AP10R8691 even more.
I could do with a bit of a bite but I am still intent on catching up with the guys ahead so I ride on again, weaving bike, hot leather and groggy self, notwithstanding. By the by, it’s around 1.00 in the afternoon, and I get to see the mirages on the road, the sunlight is a blinding glare from the centernut of the handlebar and I am wondering why there is absolutely no shade for me to just park the bike and catch a nap. Then all of a sudden I see a roadside hotel and I stop as I am suddenly overtaken by the urge to gorge on some Vada Paavs. The hotel doesn’t have Vada Paavs, but Samosas will do for me as well, so I tuck into three, enjoy a tumbler of Chhai and send the SMS updates to brother and colleagues, “150 kms from Nagpur and its lovely to be on the road”.
The roads are bad on this stretch and the traffic is a bit heavy and the weather is getting hotter and hotter so I forget everything about stopping for photography, pass lovely bridges with water flowing under them, a couple of canals nicely bending and reach Hinganghat at 2.20. Pull over at a quaintly named place called Kisan Hotel, order the most basic fare - a plate of rice, two dry Rotis, Dal, Brinjal curry, Chaach and a plateful of Radish salad - and get around to SMSing Prashant and calling my brother in Nagpur. Brother is like, I will take two and half hours to reach Nagpur (Hinganghat is 90 kms from Nagpur), I am like are you mad, I will be there in one and half, finally we agree that I will be at Panchsheel Square by 4.30 and I ride on again.
The roads are a bit better now but then I get caught up at a Railway Crossing where everyone seems to be looking at me. Normal behavior from the onlookers, considering that I was in a black leather jacket, my helmet is a catchy Red and my Bullet is growling even at idle.
Prashant’s SMS was that they are somewhere at a A-1 Plaza before Nagpur (on the right) so I ride on, cross Jam and then see a A-1 Plaza to my right, turn and check the parking but there are no bikes. I am riding pretty fast now, I want to get to Nagpur in a hurry, the road is now four laned and superb and yet in passing I see stands of Bamboo all along, glowing an incandescent yellow, reminding me of “yellowtome”, the Nikon competition which I somehow managed to forget all about. And then, finally at around 4.15 I am in Nagpur and use a local phone to call up my brother, berate him and ask him to spare me the pain of going around in traffic on a heavy Enfield and he finally guides me to Ravinagar Square.
Brother comes and I get a warm hug. He has no exclamations of surprise or incredulity, (my family knows me fairly well) but he still wants to know what Rider Mania is. I tell him people from all over India ride over to meet each other and talk Bullets. He wonders if I have ridden down to party and offers me all the booze in Nagpur if I stay back with him. I am like, no you come along, we will party there. While this repartee is happening, we have had two teas each and I have another nice palate experience, having eaten a “Cutlet Paav”, it’s getting late so I take his leave and tell him I will try and catch up with him in the next two days. I am also anxious to get the bike checked ASAP, so brother doesn’t manhandle me and I ride out of Nagpur hunting for Star Key Point Resort. The resort is on the Amravati Road, pretty simple to find really, since its straight all the way from Ravinagar, but I manage to cross the Resort and ride 10 kms beyond. Reason being, I mistook the logo of Star Key to be an arrow pointing the way down towards Amravati :-)))).
I forget to say of course that I also had a sunset to shoot and was looking for a suitable place where I could shoot it through one of the numerous Orange groves. As usual, when in doubt, I managed to stop and ask; got directed by a friendly car driver, took the turnoff this time and 2 kms of riding through a nice interior road lands me up at Star Key Point Resorts.
Prashant and Deepa are already there and I meet Deep too, so I get around to giving the bike to the RE Service guys (thanks to Sachin) and divest myself of the heavy leather jacket and the boots. By the by, I link up again with Deepa and Prashanth, meet Mr. Bose, meet CP of GBC, hear that RoadSurvivors are some 400 kms away and so on and on. The RE guys say the problem is with the Rotor and Stator, they dismantle the Clutch case and then say it’s because the front sprocket (behind the magnet) had developed play. I get around to sending some more SMS updates in between meeting Dino and Anukaran (who did not recognize me since I was as clean shaven as him), registering for the event and meeting Dipesh and some other guys from 60kph.
By now, I am dog-tired but the Wanderlust guys had arranged for drinks for everybody on the eve of Rider Mania, so I have a couple of Beers and then we (me, Mr. Bose, Mr. Naidu, Deep and another guy who had a Tee Shirt saying “Eaashoo” ) have dinner together and man that was some session. We talked of everything under the sky, right from Biryani to cleaning bikes, to a love for the road and so on. Finally, I knew I had to crash, so I got myself an extra mattress and fell into it.
Thus, I arrived at my second Rider Mania. God, be kind
After that first manic Rider Mania (and the manic return from it), somehow I couldn’t make it to the next one (again in Goa), or the one after that [Panvel (we were pitching for the BSNL Broadband account)] and the one after that, RM06 [this was when I was up to my neck (and a bit above)] in managing my own creative hotshop].
That’s how life is, I guess, you look back at what you have missed, and what you have missed, you have MISSED and reasons (though they may be endless) are like parentheses, they don’t really matter
Thus, when RM07 came along and was to be held in Nagpur, I kind of wanted to be part of a big “Bullet waalon ki party”, yet again.
The fact that I hadn’t done any serious wandering after being back from Ladakh pushed the intensity levels a notch up.
The fact that Nomad and Deepa from RTMC were to ride through Hyderabad (which meant I would get to ride with RTMC, woo hoo hoo!) pushed the intensity levels another notch up.
So I spent the usual week or so getting the Don (which had sadly degenerated to “city commute two-wheeler” standards) into some kind of highway shape.
Nomad and Deepa came, we met and rode together in Hyderabad’s city traffic (to Tank Bund first and then to a local mech’s place), swapped club stories and discussed the ride out to Nagpur.
I need to say here that Nomad was an inspiration as usual and his matter of fact pep talk helped get me onto the road
Yes, yes, yes…the longer you stay away from the highway, the more you are riddled with self-doubts; I was apprehensive that the engine bearings of Don will go kaput, the Piston will “give haath” or that I will just wobble away into a wayside ditch at high speed.
But then, Nomad took my A-350 for a spin and said, “Let’s ride man, the Bullet is okay, it will not break down, trust me on that!”
“Nomad, who?” If you asked that, gentle reader, I guess you will also ask, “Bullet, what?”
Because, Nomad is Prashant Kumar P.K. a pretty well known personality among all those for whom Royal Enfields (and other vintage vehicles) and riding is a passion, who won the “Rider of the year” award at RM03 and has been at every single RM thereafter (among other places across the length and breadth of this country). As you must have already guessed, when he is not “Nomading”, he’s building high-performance classics in Bangalore and helping lesser knowledgeable peoples like me with tech-gyaan, route-gyaan and motivations on the RTMC list.
I did digress a bit there, let’s get back onto the road.
So, it’s yet another cold January morning as I park Don in front of Runway 9 and wait for the others, nary a minute of sleep in me, attired in my patented collection of riding gear.
A pair of oil-stained denim trousers that I was superstitiously attached to; DMS boots and a heavy grain cow leather jacket that I had got custom stitched 2 years back and naturally my spanking new, full-faced helmet.
Jacket? Well, it looks like a jacket, has a collar, a zip down the front, two nice sleeves and all, too. But calling it a jacket is a bit of an overstatement, comfort and weight wise. Fact is, it’s made more like a shoe (and a cumbersome one at that), and less like a jacket you would..well… want to dance in and is also back-breakingly heavy, to boot (pun, very much intended and joke’s entirely on me, thank you!).
While I am massaging my lower back (already afflicted with a crimp) and contemplating if I should head out and grab a Chhai to tackle the grogginess attacking me, GR (who incidentally had a Royal Enfield Machismo named “Alberto Green” back then), also from the RTMC mailing list, turned up and we got around to smoking in companionable silence
Nomad and Deepa arrived soon thereafter, Nomad on a heavily modded, beautifully put together Cafe Racer and Deepa on a lovely Blue Thunderbird.
Naturally, of course, all the other three were attired in full (and sane) biking gear (riding jackets, shoes, gloves, et al.), unlike the man who rides a bike called Don Quixote!
And then, we set out, with me in the lead (as per Nomad’s suggestion), Deepa after me, then GR and Nomad bringing up the rear and a lovely four laned stretch ahead of us.
Did I maintain the lead and make it to Nagpur ahead of everyone?
Look forward to the next blog, I will tell you everything!
The discerning reader, i.e. you, may recall that I was all geared up to spend two nights out on the road; risk being chased by semi-rabid dogs and shooed away by equally rabid organizers (hint - read this). I was all pumped up, adrenalin and everything. And it wasn’t just this sense of adventure that I had brought on myself – it was also the anticipation of the rowdy party, one which I so desperately wanted to be a part of.
Imagine - 500+ bikers, just like you, passionate about riding congregating at one place once a year. These guys and girls love their machines. They lovingly christen it, with names which reflect their inner soul – “silent warrior”, or “the urge”. They may call their bikes – “that piece of junk”, but in reality they mean – “I love that bike”. They will take offence if YOU called THEIR bike a piece of junk. How dare you? They have ridden over a thousand kilometers to be there. Just like you. That act alone forges a brotherhood - one passion to rule them all. Ok… I must not see Lord of the Rings for the 123rd time. Back to the topic – these guys are looking to enjoy themselves; they are looking forward to biker games; display their superior biking skills; impress the other clubies with their modified bikes; and let their hair down and groove to the DJ while going through copious amounts of beer. Can’t beat that!
Declaring so brazenly that I’d be there no matter what; report from the sidelines; and yada yada yada was kinda premature. After some time, the head cooled down (a bit) and I tried walking a bit in the organizers’ shoes. I mean the organizers surely wouldn’t have space. What if another 200 gatecrashers turned up? They surely couldn’t accommodate us all, could they? I wasn’t so convinced it was a good idea anymore – but then “a promise is a promise”.
With those conundrums nibbling away my brain, I forgot about the truckers strike and the petroleum company strike. I was supposed to head to Surathkal on Saturday, and there was not a drop of fuel in my bike’s tank, and neither was there any fuel at the petrol pumps. The chances of me biking to the coast evaporated faster than drops of spilt petrol, and along with it went my chance of biking to Agumbe, seeing the spectacular sunset, “impressing” the KMC chicks. Sigh. Those were the glorious days of college.
Luckily for me, KSRTC was operating buses, and all I had to do was sleep on an overnight bus to Surathkal. Not the way I like to travel, but gets the job done so, no complaints. A few hours ago as I was winding up my lecture - the last question for the day - the phone buzzed.
For once, the phone was the bearer of good news - I had managed to sneak in. I was officially registered for Rider Mania RTMC Ishtyle. Yay! Decorum, unfortunately, didn’t let me physically manifest my feelings. A couple of cartwheels and pumping my fist in the air – Sreeshanth style would have been appropriate, but then – “Mere number aagaya! Yippeeee!” came a close second
Who ever said – “Good things come to those who wait”, surely got it right. See you all at the party of the year!!! Caman the enjaiments wonlee!!!
Sigh. Rider Mania 09 is all sold out, and I was yet to register. Qualifies as a want-to-kick-myself-in-the-butt situation!
And why was I waiting for so long? There was this slim, really slim, chance that I’d have to travel on work the weekend of RM. I was praying that it gets postponed, and I was waiting for some clarity on that front to make my move. Then again, the more I think about it, the more I realize that there can’t be a good enough reason to miss out on what will be the best biker party in India.
Nearly 500 odd bikers have registered for the event, some coming from as far away as Assam. And it isn’t as if they are flying down to Ooty or anything. No sir. They are riding down to Ooty, actually, they are riding ALL they way down to Ooty. And here I was, sitting in Bangalore, less than 300 kms from Ooty, yet to register. What was I thinking? (Purely rhetorical)
What makes a rider chose to travel over 2000 kilometers on a Bullet – back breaking roads, frequent oil changes, breakdowns and everything? I believe it is called passion. My family thinks we all need to see a therapist. Ok, I admit - it does seem a bit insane that perfectly rational men and women willingly chose to subject themselves to “torture” and “risks”. But you know what, these folks who say we are nuts, they haven’t the foggiest idea about long bike rides. Your body may feel tired, but the spirit is kindled. To borrow from an ad jingle, “It feels like God!”. Hit the nail on the head in four words.
I hate to sound philosophical, and I blame that on missing the registration deadline. I so wanted to go! We all work so hard to get some where in life, many of us making a few compromises along the way. I was making one of monumental proportions right now. Dumass!!
It has been more than a year since I took a real long holiday – that was when I spent 3 magical weeks riding cranky rented RE bikes in Himachal Pradesh and Leh with my friends. I still feel good about that trip – that is worth a gazillion rupees. It is something we will keep talking about even after we grow old. I have a gut feeling Rider Mania is going to be as good.
So, it is decided - I am riding out to Rider Mania 2009, reservation or no reservation. Gate crashing wonlee! It doesn’t matter if I have to pitch a tent and sleep in my sleeping bag. It doesn’t matter if I get chased away by guard dogs. It doesn’t matter if it is freezing cold, doesn’t matter at all! I will be there at RM, and you will hear from me – if only from the sidelines
Psst… I’ll let you in on a secret – this will be my first Rider Mania! And I am all excited about it. Caman the enjaiments wonlee!