madmax

[u]10:02 p.m.
Saturday, September 13, 2003


[u]First impression is the best impression!

Sometimes you meet people who make a mark in your life. They come, they
go, but you remember them always, even if you don't want to. This is my
note to someone like that, someone who will always have a special place
in my heart.

I was barely 19 then. Had been riding a Marvel for two years and had
been pretty much bored with her. Wanted something better, something much
better. Having learnt to ride on an old, leaky Bullet 350 and never
having cut my teeth on the impulsive smokers, I had little experience as a
biker. All I had ridden were a few Bullets, my buddy's CBZ and a few
Splendors and the like.

The test-ride reports in magazines set my heart racing. An actual
test-ride set flames blazing. Endless strikes at home landed me at the Royal
Enfield showroom one fine afternoon. Like a kid in a toy store, I
looked in awe at the big Lightning 535, the grey 500 and didn't care about
the standard 350's standing there. I needed chrome, a lot of it! Too bad
they didn't have a wine red coloured bike in stock, but I was ready to
wait for a day. After a sleepless night, I rushed to the showroom to
find my bike which was brought overnight.

[u]The horror begins...

I was heart-broken. This wasn't the shiny wine-red Machismo A350 that I
wanted! The bike was so dirty, had a big scratch near the headlamp and
was leaking oil on the floor. I spoke to whoever I thought was
in-charge there and they assured me that things will be taken care of before
delivery. And yes, I got my bike around 7 pm that day, 8th of September
2000 to be precise, still dirty, still with the scratch, still leaking
oil. I was still glad to lay my hands on the bike. She started on the
first kick and I rode her carefully to the nearest fuel station. It was
half a kilometre away, but still I had to push her in the end as there
was nothing inside the tank. I got my first taste of Royal Enfield
service that day. Needless to say, it was just the beginning.


Next morning, jumping up from bed, I went to the porch to see my Alpha.
She had set her mark on the porch, much the way dogs do. I wasn't upset
about that. Others were. Ofcourse I didn't care. I ran her in
impatiently for the first 900 kms, in a month or so. But one fine day, I lost my
self-control and full-throttled her. She roared, screamed and I crossed
100 kmph for the first time in my life. I stopped the bike after a
while. My heart was beating furiously. And I wanted more! So the bike,
which was brought from some other showroom (probably at full speed, for
some 100 kms) was not given a proper run-in and to add to the woes, the
service guys didn't know any work on the engine. She had the AVL engine,
which in their words, was too noisy, too vibey and not reliable. They
agreed on the performance though and that is what I wanted. The free
services went by. She still had all the problems that she had in the
beginning, except for the scratch that I got painted under warranty.

I remember reading somewhere, that Bullets are not meant for racing.
They are meant for cruising, and for touring. Their flex-infested chassis
and useless brakes meant disaster if you tried pushing too much. But I
was a boy-racer for God's sake! And the feel of her piston go up and
down beneath me, transmitting every single emotion of her's to mine, was
too much to handle. I gave in to her temptations. And like always,
there was a punishment for giving in. My first major accident, coming
down-hill from the college, with two pillion-riders at full throttle in 4th
gear, and downshifting twice for braking, left her with no traction. I
lost some skin and a friend broke his nose. Alpha suffered the most.
Her front wheel, forks, headlight assembly, crash-guard, everything was
broken or bent.

A week later, we got back to the service station 60 kms away, in a LWB
Mahindra. A month and infinite number of swearings later, she rolled
out, with the faulty (and many non-faulty) parts replaced. Ofcourse they
'took care' of all the insurance procedures. The way in which my dealer
treated me after the initial sale was done, still makes me feel
horrible.

[u]What's a seizure?

Due to the pathetic service at the dealership, I decided to get my work
done by some roadside mechanic. But I should have gone to a good
roadside mechanic. Needing to change my chain-sprocket assembly at 8000 kms
(surprise?) I got the job done without the dealer's help. And I felt
proud of my achievement! I didn't mind her reluctant start-up after the
job. I rode her for barely 11 kilometres when she stalled in the middle
of the road. At 8 pm, with a seized engine and no good workshops in
sight, I was more than a bit worried. I did find a workshop though and a
pretty much aged mechanic who seemed experienced to me. He asked me to
leave the bike there (ofcourse she wasn't in rideable state) and I took a
bus home. A week and 6000/- later, she was up and running although with
a problem. She wouldn't accelerate cleanly when the headlight was
switched off. The road-side mechanics, the REML people, everyone knew the
problem was 'electrical' and that there was something wrong with the
magneto or CDI. I didn't know anything though. And I was insanely happy
when my bulb fused. I could ride the way I wanted, during the day, with
the headlight switched on! And don't ask me what I did during the nights
then.


By 10,000 kms, she had consumed some 15 cables (speedo, accelerator,
clutch everything), an equal number of bulbs, a pair of tyres, a set of
brake-shoes and not to forget, the chain-sprocket assembly and
everything bought for the first engine rebuild. Once when I was in a determined
mood to squeeze the most out of her, she obliged and stretched a litre
of fuel to 48 kms! Other times, I was the one who obliged and she drank
(gulped?) at 25 kms to the litre. It went on like this, for one more
year. Unless I forget, my second and third accidents (relatively minor,
during one of which my best-friend riding pillion got a bump on his head
and was blabbering insane for an hour, scaring the hell out of me) and
another seizure scare occured. I was returning to my hostel after a
late night movie, over the ton. Leaving my friends far behind, I was going
full throttle when the engine stopped, the headlight went kaput and
there I was, going up a slope at full speed, in pitch darkness! The place
was totally deserted. I tried to kick her to life, but the kicker
wouldn't budge. I stood on it, but still it wouldn't. With the firm belief
in my mind of yet another seizure, I waited for my friends and then
pushed her back to the hostel some 5 or 6 kms away at 12:30 in the night. I
was tired. Of everything.


[u]The show must go on

At 20,000 I felt like she deserved more than the 'fused-bulb
acceleration' and all the strange rumbling noises emitting from the engine. The
crome had lost its sheen, the paint was all scratched, the engine looked
like crap and she was complaining, like never before. I decided to give
one last go. To try and start everything afresh. I took her to another
service station (of the same dealer, there was no choice) where there
was supposedly an expert to work on the AVL engine. One month, 12000/-,
30 visits to the service station (not counting the visits to the
paint-shop, machine-shop, plating shop, spare-parts dealer etc) and repeated
pleas with the mechanic to do a good job (still wonder if my sitting
with him during the entire job made any difference) later, I got my
sweetie back, all shiny in black and chrome, with the engine making the
right noises and she seemed so happy. And I was happy too, grinning from
ear to ear for a few days to come, when I was running her in, extra
carefully! I didn't want to repeat my mistake! I ran her in for 1500 kms as
given in the manual and then decided to give her some stick, but
gradually. My heart broke for the umpti-millionth time as I found out that
the headlight bulb - acceleration problem had stayed as such (some
problem with the CDI unit or something may be, but the spares for the A350
were unavailable by that time cos soon after I bought my bike, production
was stopped).

I didn't have a choice then. I couldn't ride her like that. I had spent
so much time and money on her and still couldn't get her to run
properly. The situation was hopeless. I took the ultimate decision. A
separation was inevitable. The hot new Pulsar twins doing the rounds did
nothing to help me change my mind. I exchanged her for the mere sum of
30,000/-. Forgetting that I had spent 66000/- buying her, some 30000/-
working on her, even more for quenching her thirst, I was upset only about
the time and effort spent on her. I never did mind her tantrums. I never
minded all the parts that she dropped on the roads - silencers,
foot-pegs, horns, everything. But I was out of resources. I was out of
patience.
[u]
One last word to you

It's 11:30 now. Alpha, wherever you are, if you think that I don't
remember you that much, you are very wrong. Whenever I see another of your
breed, my eyes start scrambling for those numbers written on the plate
saying KL-7 AB 3733. Ofcourse you know, what I have written down till
now are only the downsides of our life together. The upsides always
negated the tantrums you threw. The simple pleasure of roaring past
everyone on the road, the orgasmic scream that still thumps in my heart, the
vibes of feelings still tingling my feet, the scary yet thrilling
corners that we grounded the footpegs (and more at times!) in, the admiring
(and terrified) glances that you drew for me, everything makes my heart
beat for you. Did I make a mistake letting you go? I still don't know.
My Marvel or my Diva, I am sure I wouldn't ever remember anyone of them
like I remember you. I miss you Alpha. I guess we weren't meant for
each other. Or rather, I didn't have the character to live upto your
expectations. I still don't. One day, when I hope to outgrow my boy-racer
tendencies, I might, just might go back to a Royal Enfield showroom,
looking for someone like you... someone I know who could be as involving,
as exhilirating, as endearing and as lovable as you were. Till then, I
will live with your memories. You know, they still keep me warm.

Lovingly yours, MAX.

__________________
Some men have thousands of reasons why they cannot do, what they need is one reason why they can.