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After I got my hands on arguably the first Benelli 302R in India, I intended on taking the machine to its maximum. In about 10 days, I clocked the painful, rev limited period of the Run-In, and I got my bike serviced at the Benelli ASC on 19th August. What followed after that, was pure impulsive madness.
20th August 2017 :
I work at a Government Hospital in New Delhi. This means I am always fighting sleep, hunger and mosquitoes. Ungodly duty hours are a routine, and the work extremely rewarding. Yet, the itch to ride is something I haven’t yet learned to ignore. I see my colleagues happy and content in the plush campus houses, all well and prospering with cars and kids. I can’t be content without my own dose of two wheels, not for a day. Plus, the fact that I bought a sports tourer despite my tight schedule was a constant dagger swinging at my face to just suck up to it and mount up.
Whatever, however, I just asked for a leave for three days and I don’t know if it was my tone, or my urge but it was sanctioned. Yay! Miracles do happen.
I was thus sitting in my duty room, contemplating over the way to spend the next three days. It is absolutely useless to even try opening travel websites because that gives you zero valuable information. So I opened Google Maps and started looking for something interesting. It was Scorching in Delhi, so Rajasthan was out. North was the only place I could possibly head to. Okay, Uttarakhand? Nawh. How about Himachal? Um, okay sounds good. Anything except Shimla will do. So I zoomed in, and saw a few places northwards of Shimla which weren’t populated much and I thought, what the hell. Let’s just ride up there and figure out the rest.
Sleeping in my armchair, I woke up at 3am. Came back to my crib, packed my ViaTerra Claw with a few essentials and geared up for the ride. I was exhausted but I was ready to fight it for a good ride in the hills. 5am, the ODO was showing 777km. Such an auspicious number to start a ride :P
Off I went. Delhi mornings, unwitnessed by far. Since I am a newcomer in Delhi, I don’t much know about the roads and stuff. It was pleasantly cool, and miss Google was prompting me regarding which roads to take inside my helmet’s Bluetooth intercom. I kept the revs on the pleasure side of 5000rpm till I crossed Delhi-HR border. The rev pattern in the 302R is simply beautiful. She just hums her own silent tune when kept under the 5k mark. Nothing flashy, nothing extravagant. I can feel the pull but I can not hear it aloud. Good acoustics to putter around tiwn without hearing damage of the self and the society.
I was already feeling tired, so I decided to take a break. Unfortunately, some RE group on their Sunday ride decided to take a smoke break right next to my stop. Fearing the unproductive questionnaire by the Enfield guys, I quickly buggered off. A good break postponed.
Screw the breaks, I said. Let’s open this thing wide, I said. The revs climbed, climbed and in each gear, I could feel the power unleashing now. The road was empty mostly on an uneventful Sunday, and when I twisted it beyond 7k, something happened. As if Clark Kent removed his shirt and suddenly became the Superman, the bike responded with an immense grunt and not looking back , the revs escalated. Throwing me into a state of mad acceleration and speed rush. The time I checked the tach, it was at 9.5k and the speedo showed 135kmph. Whoa, Tiger. Let’s take things slowly. A downshift here and there, back to the 90s. 7k for 95. You get what you pay for. Beautiful.
Not looking back, I crossed Sonipat and soon, I realized I haven’t yet gotten around a break. I stopped at some bridge, and took a few photos. I was so addicted to this new way of Sports touring. I could not do this on my old RE. The vibe free, aerodynamic, yet comfortable mile munching spree. Dear Lord. I did not want to stop anymore, just felt like going and going. I planned my next stop at Chandigarh if possible for Lunch.
Nothing much to say here, the roads are as straight as roads can get and I crossed Chandigarh in a very short span, with all smiles. The Sun was rising up now and squids were having a fun time on Chandigarh roads when they saw a fancy bike with a DL plate. Questions and more questions. I politely refused to answer any of them and zoomed away. Cities don’t attract me anymore. I have become allergic to concrete. Goodbye Chandigarh but I ain’t stopping ‘till I see some hills.
Every last one of us knows how the Chandigarh-Shimla road is. Amazing road to begin with which quickly deteriorates one’s peace of mind with the traffic and the landslides. By the time I started climbing uphill, it was a huge huge traffic jam because of multiple landslides. Hundreds of trucks and cars lined up. I quickly figured that it was going to be dusk by the time I reach anywhere near Shimla. So I started my climb in the narrow lanes created by adjoining trucks. The engine was angry and the radiator fan was wheezing, giving me the scornful 3-bars high looks. Almost an hour in the first and the second gear with a lot of clutching, but never did the engine crossed three bars temperature and never did the fan stay put for more than five minutes. Excellent heat management. I had done a similar stretch at Lonavala traffic an year ago on RC390 and boy I had my ankles and legs cooked to perfection. Twins come with their own arsenal, that is for sure.
After two hours of a bland struggle, the traffic cleared up. Shimla was still some 60km ahead and I was tired to the core like a rotten apple. I spotted a valley view food joint and devoured some maggi and guava juice while stretching my legs to free up the knees a little from the enormous pressures of the knee guards.
I wanted to get an insight about where I was going to spend the night, basically away from any possible civilization and tourists. I wanted some me-time and that is what this ride was all about. Fortunately, there was no network, so I simply started looking over the horizon and inhaling the fresh mountain air. We shall see later what to do about having a bed to sleep on.
Done with the late lunch and munched a few miles. The cold was evident now, though not so much as to have a thermal liner on. It was the enjoyable kind of a sweet chill. I let it flow all over me. Then BAM. Suddenly it started raining. I was drenched in no time. The rain did not even give me a chance to get all the liners and rain pants on. This made me miss the Maharashtra monsoons. The day I moved here, Delhi has offered my only two brief showers, both the times I was on duty, looking after sick patients. So, this was the first rain for me this season. Such Joy!
I saw flocks of tourists and there I knew this must be it. Shimla. It is almost the same as Mahabaleshwar in rains. I must have had a thousand Deja Vus when I was frantically trying to find a way which leads me away from this tourist infested marketplace. I was climbing uphill, and there.
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I saw a Harley Davidson guy, calmly sitting on his bike, in a heavy rainfall. He was all geared in Alpinestars, which in itself is pretty rare for a Harley rider from North India, and there he was, sitting on his bike like a monk with no attachments, soaking up the rain, as if he is meditating and contemplating the purpose of existence of mortal life. I greeted him, that broke his cord.
Me: Where are you going, man?
Him: Nowhere bro.
Me: Okay do you have a place to stay? I am looking for one. Where are you from?
Him: No thanks where are you going?
Me: I don’t know where I am going. Anyway, why getting wet in the rain?
Him: My front wheel is stuck in the grill.
I saw that the Harley’s front wheel was trapped between two bars of steel which forms a grill over the underground drainage. No humans in sight with torrential downpour.
I came off my bike and asked him to let me help him. I grabbed the rear shockers and started pushing as much as I could. No luck. So I asked him to crank the bike and make an effort. The thunderous exhausts blew soot and carbon monoxide in my face and maybe I got high and maybe that was how we managed to free the front wheel from the trap and get the bike on road. He thanked me, even when both of us were drenched to the heaven and back.
Me: That was crazy dude. Where are you staying? Maybe I can join, we can split the loads and ride.
Him: I am from Shimla itself. I own this hotel.
He pointed towards a huge green establishment right next to where he was sitting on his bike. Jeez.
Apparently Mr. Hotelier went on a Sunday ride all happy in the rain but got an unexpected display of affection by his own storm drain cover. :P
Him: If you want, you are welcome to stay at my hotel. Come on inside, you must be freezing.
Me: Dude that is so tempting but unluckily your hotel happens to be in Shimla, and I want to go away from this crowded place as much as away means. So I am sorry but I can’t stay. I’ll be happy to take references.
Standing in the rain, we had a dialogue for about 10 minutes where he told me a route which goes to a little town in the hills called Theog. He then gave out a few numbers and names. He advised me to stay at Theog and head out to see Narkanda and Haatu peak for the next two days.
Fantastic. I took his number, just in case. Then I left towards Theog.
Curves, curves and honey glazed curves. The bike was an absolute hoot on the corners. The raining was only in Shimla. It was dryer than a camel’s ass after I left Shimla. I stopped at a place called Kufri, and dialed a number. It was a homestay and a gentleman gave me the directions. I found out the homestay on a hill, completely isolated and way up. The ride up was harsh on a goatwalk. I reached finally. The trip meter showed 490km. It was 5:30PM. I was welcomed by a stubby old man Mr. Negi. He showed me to my room and oh boy, what a view. Zero humans in sight, only mountains.
The homestay is a huge one, tucked inside an apple and pear orchard. The picking and packing season was in full bloom as I was informed, and I could see the hardworking himachali farmers hustling enormous tokris of apples on their backs.
I took a hot shower, and spread under the warm quilt. Mr Negi knocked, he offered me a plate full of shiny apples and a knife. He told me this was from the morning’s pickings. I devoured the crunchiest apples I have ever had in my whole 25 years of existence. It was cold, it was blissful. I soon went off to sleep like nobody’s business. What a good way to stop a day, falling asleep while looking at the clouds and mountains.
I gotta go work in the ICU on this Dusshera holiday. Will post the next days after approval. Cheerio!
20th August 2017 :
I work at a Government Hospital in New Delhi. This means I am always fighting sleep, hunger and mosquitoes. Ungodly duty hours are a routine, and the work extremely rewarding. Yet, the itch to ride is something I haven’t yet learned to ignore. I see my colleagues happy and content in the plush campus houses, all well and prospering with cars and kids. I can’t be content without my own dose of two wheels, not for a day. Plus, the fact that I bought a sports tourer despite my tight schedule was a constant dagger swinging at my face to just suck up to it and mount up.
Whatever, however, I just asked for a leave for three days and I don’t know if it was my tone, or my urge but it was sanctioned. Yay! Miracles do happen.
I was thus sitting in my duty room, contemplating over the way to spend the next three days. It is absolutely useless to even try opening travel websites because that gives you zero valuable information. So I opened Google Maps and started looking for something interesting. It was Scorching in Delhi, so Rajasthan was out. North was the only place I could possibly head to. Okay, Uttarakhand? Nawh. How about Himachal? Um, okay sounds good. Anything except Shimla will do. So I zoomed in, and saw a few places northwards of Shimla which weren’t populated much and I thought, what the hell. Let’s just ride up there and figure out the rest.
Sleeping in my armchair, I woke up at 3am. Came back to my crib, packed my ViaTerra Claw with a few essentials and geared up for the ride. I was exhausted but I was ready to fight it for a good ride in the hills. 5am, the ODO was showing 777km. Such an auspicious number to start a ride :P
Off I went. Delhi mornings, unwitnessed by far. Since I am a newcomer in Delhi, I don’t much know about the roads and stuff. It was pleasantly cool, and miss Google was prompting me regarding which roads to take inside my helmet’s Bluetooth intercom. I kept the revs on the pleasure side of 5000rpm till I crossed Delhi-HR border. The rev pattern in the 302R is simply beautiful. She just hums her own silent tune when kept under the 5k mark. Nothing flashy, nothing extravagant. I can feel the pull but I can not hear it aloud. Good acoustics to putter around tiwn without hearing damage of the self and the society.
I was already feeling tired, so I decided to take a break. Unfortunately, some RE group on their Sunday ride decided to take a smoke break right next to my stop. Fearing the unproductive questionnaire by the Enfield guys, I quickly buggered off. A good break postponed.
Screw the breaks, I said. Let’s open this thing wide, I said. The revs climbed, climbed and in each gear, I could feel the power unleashing now. The road was empty mostly on an uneventful Sunday, and when I twisted it beyond 7k, something happened. As if Clark Kent removed his shirt and suddenly became the Superman, the bike responded with an immense grunt and not looking back , the revs escalated. Throwing me into a state of mad acceleration and speed rush. The time I checked the tach, it was at 9.5k and the speedo showed 135kmph. Whoa, Tiger. Let’s take things slowly. A downshift here and there, back to the 90s. 7k for 95. You get what you pay for. Beautiful.
Not looking back, I crossed Sonipat and soon, I realized I haven’t yet gotten around a break. I stopped at some bridge, and took a few photos. I was so addicted to this new way of Sports touring. I could not do this on my old RE. The vibe free, aerodynamic, yet comfortable mile munching spree. Dear Lord. I did not want to stop anymore, just felt like going and going. I planned my next stop at Chandigarh if possible for Lunch.
Nothing much to say here, the roads are as straight as roads can get and I crossed Chandigarh in a very short span, with all smiles. The Sun was rising up now and squids were having a fun time on Chandigarh roads when they saw a fancy bike with a DL plate. Questions and more questions. I politely refused to answer any of them and zoomed away. Cities don’t attract me anymore. I have become allergic to concrete. Goodbye Chandigarh but I ain’t stopping ‘till I see some hills.
Every last one of us knows how the Chandigarh-Shimla road is. Amazing road to begin with which quickly deteriorates one’s peace of mind with the traffic and the landslides. By the time I started climbing uphill, it was a huge huge traffic jam because of multiple landslides. Hundreds of trucks and cars lined up. I quickly figured that it was going to be dusk by the time I reach anywhere near Shimla. So I started my climb in the narrow lanes created by adjoining trucks. The engine was angry and the radiator fan was wheezing, giving me the scornful 3-bars high looks. Almost an hour in the first and the second gear with a lot of clutching, but never did the engine crossed three bars temperature and never did the fan stay put for more than five minutes. Excellent heat management. I had done a similar stretch at Lonavala traffic an year ago on RC390 and boy I had my ankles and legs cooked to perfection. Twins come with their own arsenal, that is for sure.
After two hours of a bland struggle, the traffic cleared up. Shimla was still some 60km ahead and I was tired to the core like a rotten apple. I spotted a valley view food joint and devoured some maggi and guava juice while stretching my legs to free up the knees a little from the enormous pressures of the knee guards.
I wanted to get an insight about where I was going to spend the night, basically away from any possible civilization and tourists. I wanted some me-time and that is what this ride was all about. Fortunately, there was no network, so I simply started looking over the horizon and inhaling the fresh mountain air. We shall see later what to do about having a bed to sleep on.
Done with the late lunch and munched a few miles. The cold was evident now, though not so much as to have a thermal liner on. It was the enjoyable kind of a sweet chill. I let it flow all over me. Then BAM. Suddenly it started raining. I was drenched in no time. The rain did not even give me a chance to get all the liners and rain pants on. This made me miss the Maharashtra monsoons. The day I moved here, Delhi has offered my only two brief showers, both the times I was on duty, looking after sick patients. So, this was the first rain for me this season. Such Joy!
I saw flocks of tourists and there I knew this must be it. Shimla. It is almost the same as Mahabaleshwar in rains. I must have had a thousand Deja Vus when I was frantically trying to find a way which leads me away from this tourist infested marketplace. I was climbing uphill, and there.
I saw a Harley Davidson guy, calmly sitting on his bike, in a heavy rainfall. He was all geared in Alpinestars, which in itself is pretty rare for a Harley rider from North India, and there he was, sitting on his bike like a monk with no attachments, soaking up the rain, as if he is meditating and contemplating the purpose of existence of mortal life. I greeted him, that broke his cord.
Me: Where are you going, man?
Him: Nowhere bro.
Me: Okay do you have a place to stay? I am looking for one. Where are you from?
Him: No thanks where are you going?
Me: I don’t know where I am going. Anyway, why getting wet in the rain?
Him: My front wheel is stuck in the grill.
I saw that the Harley’s front wheel was trapped between two bars of steel which forms a grill over the underground drainage. No humans in sight with torrential downpour.
I came off my bike and asked him to let me help him. I grabbed the rear shockers and started pushing as much as I could. No luck. So I asked him to crank the bike and make an effort. The thunderous exhausts blew soot and carbon monoxide in my face and maybe I got high and maybe that was how we managed to free the front wheel from the trap and get the bike on road. He thanked me, even when both of us were drenched to the heaven and back.
Me: That was crazy dude. Where are you staying? Maybe I can join, we can split the loads and ride.
Him: I am from Shimla itself. I own this hotel.
He pointed towards a huge green establishment right next to where he was sitting on his bike. Jeez.
Apparently Mr. Hotelier went on a Sunday ride all happy in the rain but got an unexpected display of affection by his own storm drain cover. :P
Him: If you want, you are welcome to stay at my hotel. Come on inside, you must be freezing.
Me: Dude that is so tempting but unluckily your hotel happens to be in Shimla, and I want to go away from this crowded place as much as away means. So I am sorry but I can’t stay. I’ll be happy to take references.
Standing in the rain, we had a dialogue for about 10 minutes where he told me a route which goes to a little town in the hills called Theog. He then gave out a few numbers and names. He advised me to stay at Theog and head out to see Narkanda and Haatu peak for the next two days.
Fantastic. I took his number, just in case. Then I left towards Theog.
Curves, curves and honey glazed curves. The bike was an absolute hoot on the corners. The raining was only in Shimla. It was dryer than a camel’s ass after I left Shimla. I stopped at a place called Kufri, and dialed a number. It was a homestay and a gentleman gave me the directions. I found out the homestay on a hill, completely isolated and way up. The ride up was harsh on a goatwalk. I reached finally. The trip meter showed 490km. It was 5:30PM. I was welcomed by a stubby old man Mr. Negi. He showed me to my room and oh boy, what a view. Zero humans in sight, only mountains.
The homestay is a huge one, tucked inside an apple and pear orchard. The picking and packing season was in full bloom as I was informed, and I could see the hardworking himachali farmers hustling enormous tokris of apples on their backs.
I took a hot shower, and spread under the warm quilt. Mr Negi knocked, he offered me a plate full of shiny apples and a knife. He told me this was from the morning’s pickings. I devoured the crunchiest apples I have ever had in my whole 25 years of existence. It was cold, it was blissful. I soon went off to sleep like nobody’s business. What a good way to stop a day, falling asleep while looking at the clouds and mountains.
I gotta go work in the ICU on this Dusshera holiday. Will post the next days after approval. Cheerio!
Congrats on the bike as well!
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