This one has been a really long time in coming. Legend has it that one of my uncles had a ducati 916 poster in his room when I was about 2 or 3 years old.ducati was probably the first word I could spell, speak, pronounce without mistakes. Till date, if I see one tearing down the road, I feel the hackles on my neck stand up in salutation and absolute wonder. I’m not much of a tech freak and a regular average Joe as far as mechanics are concerned. I currently own a bajaj pulsar DTS- I 180, 2006.
This one is an ode to all the dipshits who, roughly over the past six years have been trying their level best to explain to me what real biking is about. Its just about time I told them a little something from my side too. I have had a Royal Enfield Bullet STD, 1973 for some time too. I was in love with it, still am to an extent. But my mistake was that I’d bought it as a student from the money that was doled out by a measly summer job. Inexperience prevailed, I lost a lot of money, sanity prevailed later and I took the most practical and heartbreaking decision of selling her off. Providing for her maintenance and mine proved to be quite impossible in my meager allowance of three grand a month. Nuff said.
Sorry about the needless bit of detail. I’ve heard that the bullets and the T – birds have become quite a rage among the rich and/or the adventurous. You’re supposed to be a dunderhead if the only thing not on your mind is tripping off to some far off location on the machine. And that too, not alone but in hordes much like the armies of Anubis hunting down a single madji. And they shall take their cameras along too. I modestly call it the Memento / Ghajini effect. They’re so busy with the shutter speed and ISO and lighting and angle to catch that opportune moment that they miss the moment altogether. They say that the pulsar is a plastic bike. This plastic bike can do two rounds of the city before the decompress starts to work on the bullet to just pump it up. They prep their bikes for days to do a 500 km trip. The pulsar does it just fine in a tankful and ten hours of a straight ride. First hand experience. They talk about endurance, durability. I have four examples to put everything to rest. The Bajaj Chetak, the Kinetic Honda ZX, the Pulsar, the Karizma have all been to Leh and back. I’ve seen the impossible sight of an M80 taking the weight of two rotund women (100 kg each at least) and mind you, the sputtering whelp managed just fine. There was a friend who could manage a sustained wheelie, change gears and change or maintain altitude on a Caliber 115.yes, the Hoodibaba. Another enthusiast who took off on an 11 year old battered splendor and had all the flash that these new age kids can dare to dream of. The Royal Enfield is a brilliant machine. Its just sad that these freaks of nature are the last bastion of hope that it has. I’ve heard that the Bullet doesn’t leak oil, it marks its territory. Bullshit. With some whipped cream and a cherry on top. My pulsar then, farts daisies and craps blueberry muffins. But then, an ego based on a 350 cc piece of metal couldn’t be asked to come up with something better now, could it? They ask me to get a Bullet because my Pulsar is really inconspicuous in the parking lot. I take it all with a very Sean-Connery-shaking-his-head-saying-kids.
I had always thought that biking was about not proving the thump to the world but having the thump inside. Till date, when I rip the machine open late night on prithviraj road, she responds with a growl as throaty as ever. Maybe the Bullet is better. I really don’t care. That is good enough for me. I don’t ride like my tail is on fire. I find it to be quite stupid and puerile. I cannot ride in a herd. I hate classification. I hate plans, maps, cameras, and compasses that work. The horizon is the destination when you’re out for a ride. A ride is not a photo op. it’s not a race either. It’s a journey inward and outward. It is about the spiritual confluence of the rider and the ride, the moment of revelation where they both realize and revel in their unison. Solitude is a boon for that precise moment when you’re lost and the only thing that fills your head is the beast growling between your legs waiting to be unleashed and swallow the road for a well deserved meal. As long as its even a 50 cc Scooty coupled with the insanity to go off into the sunset, its all good.
I’m not Valentino Rossi.
I’m not Eddie Zero either.
I’m me.
And I love my bike.
Keep yer balls safe next time you think of trashin it.
I’m not the best rider.
But I’m better than a Lebanese chef with a cleaver.
Lets ride.
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10 comments:
tyler, this one's a near total departure from your usual vein... and it really works as well... the 11 year old splendor is still a marvel... and that wheelie was fun :)
i like it, brother, i like it...
hey nice 1..aftr a very long time though...pls blog more often nw..i love readn ur blogs!! :D
I hope you've safely caged your own balls after posting this article. There's going to be a riot on this one, Gabriel.
Brilliant...
I have pillion ridden all the bikes...cant really tell the difference except that on a Pulsar you can look over the rider's head!
I just cant wait to read JK's take on this...priceless!
@ da:heh heh...fun but quite quite frightening at the time,imagine me landing on my butt and missing terminator salvation.
@ amber: nice to know the growth in readership.thank you.
@ K: this blog was created with the purpose of chaos.bring it on.
@ rono: dude,if the rider's as short as I am u'll be seeing over me head even on a T- bird. been desperately waitin for jk's take though.the wait is on.
As mentioned earlier, the Enfield is what it is 'partially' due to the lack of a better alternative.
That said, despite the pseudo-macho attitude that is often found amongst enfield owners, it is quite the machine to have survived the test of time and the onslaught of the new age bikes. Things aren't all black or white. There's a grey area too. Groups of people riding Bullets, behave mainly in the same manner as any other collective. Attitude, contempt, condescending glares, snide remarks and sometimes a blind belief of natural superiority are traits found anywhere there is a group of people brought together by a common reason.
The problem here is that this article addresses the thick skulls who would probably fail to understand it's true implications. That, and the author's blatant attempt to sideline every Enfield rider in one category which makes him no better than the ones who call Pulsars "plastic bikes". Instances like the mention of the decompresser, oil leaks and photo-ops are cliched and done-to-death, yet non-conclusive arguments.
The 'dipshits' are the parasites that will exist. Enfield or no Enfield. Taking a quintessential example from where else but Hollywood....
The Wild Hogs rode them.... and Del Fuegos rode them... The machine is only but defined by it's individual rider.
@rono: Make a trip to the capital someday..
@ J: well said comrade. As mentioned earlier, the Enfields are wondrous machines in themselves. Have owned one in the past and hope to have a rerun in the future.
Apologies for the perception of sidelining the entire pack.the lone wolves do deserve credit.As mentioned,was addressing the pack.Doesn't apply to the loners.
To the pack,they're still hilariously irritating.
And as to the reference of me being no better than the ones i fry here ( with glee, if i might add here) heh heh,make me recall one disparaging remark against any bike that i have made in the past six years. Fuck the rider.talk about the bike.
As a corollary,if u'd need a recollection of the no. of times u've done in the past six months,i could gladly provide references that would make the britannica look small.
Do post a comment if u'd want a few choice quotes.my powers of recollection continue to serve me well.
Moreover, if u cannot tell the subtle difference in the pack and the loner as is quite obvious with the frivolous defence,some advice, J.
Go for a ride somewhere.cool off.stick your head in the sand.relax.
and then try to percieve what's being said.
considering the public demand, i was under the impression that 'J' is none other than JK himself.. the tone of the comment didn't sound completely like JK, but the reference to Hollywood had me going... tyler's decidedly aggressive response suggests otherwise. of course, J's table-turning remark making tyler the equivalent of those 'plastic bike' name callers might have had something to do with it :)
that being said, let us look at this a moment. granted i haven't stuck my head into a sandbar, but to an extent, J may have a point. Tyler, there's an irony in your comment on whether you've made any disparaging remark on any bike in some time. your article vociferously defends the pulsar at one point, attempting to make it look like a T-1000, while the Enfield becomes a rusty transformers equivalent of Archie Andrew's jalopy 'Betsy' (for the uninitiated, i'm talking of cybernetic organisms and /or robots). agreed it may be looked at some kind of comparitive analysis, but it could be a put down on enfields too.
you do, of course, move onto the road-shacking packrats with their expensive bikes and cameras. tyler may be forgiven for venting some ire at morons who have disparaged his ride just because it wasn't noisy, heavy, polluting and fuel-inefficient enough... the title of the article suggests the basic fact, it's the 'my dick is bigger than yours' syndrome... the perception of the egotists who only revel in their sense of superiority when surrounded by others like them... loyalty to a brand or a machine is one thing... egotistic hyperbole for one's own bike and tasteless disparaging of others' bikes is another... the trick though, tyler, might lie in holding one's own comfortably when in the pack and when alone...
... technically speaking, it's 347cc.. ain't it?
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