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I am a usual fellow, currently working as an ux designer. I am not sure if I can say that I love motorcycling, There are some places where motorcycling is otherworldly; but to get there I have to ride great distances on highways and I hate that kind of riding. Maybe car is the answer for those long roads, who knows. I’ll chronicle my journey so far down here. please do not spare the brickbats if going is wrong, long or boring.
I got hooked to automobiles back in 2000. There’s a train station near my place in Bengal, and on the platform - under the corrugated shades there is one old wooden book store. Magazines hang from all facades: cookery, women’s, men’s, filmy stuff, kiddy stuff, teenage whatsoever, sarkari gazettes. One morning back in 2000 I saw a magazine called ‘Auto India’ hanging on the top string merrily. I walked hypnotised to the shop front, bent down and looked beneath the hanging books to the bespectacled, moustachioed and middle age face of the shop owner: how much is that beauty? After a princely sum of 40 rupees (I think), a world of v8 engines and 290 horsies and Honda VFR’s were mine. So few cars and bikes were there back then India, the pricelist would fit on two pages. I knew all the prices by heart at the end of second day. The rest of the magazine was the glorious content of a world yet to touch the life of a small Bengal suburb.
In a world, far far ago, when there was no internet, kids had no pocket money, TV’s had no remote, and dadshad Bajaj Super scooter with 150cc and 7.5 bhp, what would a kid do? I started drawing the cars; I got pretty good at it. I got the hang of where the design is going even. Drew a car once, within six months an exact similar car was launched by Lancia. That it was called the ugliest car ever by Lancia is another matter, maybe I am not that good a designer in that case. But the love kept burning strong in me heart. After some years I got over with this hobby, sadly. But the love of everything silly that goes vroom stayed.
Cut to 2012, Got my first job aaaaaaand within 4 months the first motorcycle happened. Second hand, Yamaha FZ-S. Green Black. I didn’t know dingus of riding, so on the day of purchase I pulled out one of my greatly hungover great friend out of bed in the early morning to come with me to help me buy it. The owner was from a considerably wealthier family, with a bustard son of a boxer doggy that tried to bite me as I went to pet it **%###2**&. In order to harmonise the look of the bike the owner had the levers, brake disk, bar end and exhaust shroud painted in shimmering Kawasaki green. Also the tail was jacked up to the highest height. On motion it gave the imagery of one of those chariots from Doordarshan’s ramayana. It was mechanically sound though and at my friend’s behest i bought it.
Kolkata police had acquired the irritating new fashion of catching helmetless pillion riders then. This was eight in the morning and shop opens at some indefinite time past 10. My friend had brought his helmet, what shall I do? Now this great friend of mine (I shall not name him) is extremely street smart too. A mall was just ahead, A lot of people were leaving their headgear atop their vroom machine. He walked in smartly, plucked a battered one out and handed over to me. My admiration for him vanished after I brought the opening to my face. The helmet was a few years old, never been washed and smelled like old mustard oil can that also had some long dead things inside it. In the name of 200 rupees fine I put it on. Went home, picked a few beer en route, gave them to my friend for his invaluable service despite his hangover, and promptly ran for shower. I had to wash that helmet over next two weeks to see clear water coming out of it. My friend did a service to that fellow that day by hooking his helmet!
I learned riding on the FZ-S. And I did all the motorcycle mistakes mentioned on book, each and every one without exception. Dad told me ‘use rear brakes, only’. internet says use front brake, 80% braking etc. They forgot to mention that front brake works that much when there is a surface to brake on. Bengal roads back then were like Dakar rally stages with marble strewn on it for extra fun. I had some spectacular accidents. After one of them I literally had to learn to walk again. But I am one tough nail, I’ll give me that much.
After I learned somewhat properly I did long rides, modified the pitiful front light with a HID to make it an awful front light, it worked both to illuminate road surface and blind the oncoming drivers alright. Once I took it to north of Bengal by B roads, sometimes following the Bangladesh Border. In an early morning ride there I saw an elephant uproot a banana plant, in excitement I accelerated and landed in a big arse moon crater on the road, just 500 meters away from the elephant, at high speed. front wheel bent and broken. Half an hour later an empty lorry stopped, Five others and me pushed-pulled the bike on the truck bed.
Have you ever pushed a motorcycle above your head onto a truck? It is somewhat difficult. Also make sure to tie the motorcycle PROPERLY, They did it sort of semi ok. Next 60 kilometres I was fighting a jumping motorcycle on a jumping truck on a bumpy road in the early mornings. The sun was rising, birds cooing, I was fighting one unruly motorcycle that has become a bucking bull and it is trying to puncture my stomach with one of the handles as I tried to hold on. I once tried to leave it alone. Next moment it was bouncing up and down on the ropes on its side, bit like fat fly in a spider net.
To be continued..
I got hooked to automobiles back in 2000. There’s a train station near my place in Bengal, and on the platform - under the corrugated shades there is one old wooden book store. Magazines hang from all facades: cookery, women’s, men’s, filmy stuff, kiddy stuff, teenage whatsoever, sarkari gazettes. One morning back in 2000 I saw a magazine called ‘Auto India’ hanging on the top string merrily. I walked hypnotised to the shop front, bent down and looked beneath the hanging books to the bespectacled, moustachioed and middle age face of the shop owner: how much is that beauty? After a princely sum of 40 rupees (I think), a world of v8 engines and 290 horsies and Honda VFR’s were mine. So few cars and bikes were there back then India, the pricelist would fit on two pages. I knew all the prices by heart at the end of second day. The rest of the magazine was the glorious content of a world yet to touch the life of a small Bengal suburb.
In a world, far far ago, when there was no internet, kids had no pocket money, TV’s had no remote, and dadshad Bajaj Super scooter with 150cc and 7.5 bhp, what would a kid do? I started drawing the cars; I got pretty good at it. I got the hang of where the design is going even. Drew a car once, within six months an exact similar car was launched by Lancia. That it was called the ugliest car ever by Lancia is another matter, maybe I am not that good a designer in that case. But the love kept burning strong in me heart. After some years I got over with this hobby, sadly. But the love of everything silly that goes vroom stayed.
Cut to 2012, Got my first job aaaaaaand within 4 months the first motorcycle happened. Second hand, Yamaha FZ-S. Green Black. I didn’t know dingus of riding, so on the day of purchase I pulled out one of my greatly hungover great friend out of bed in the early morning to come with me to help me buy it. The owner was from a considerably wealthier family, with a bustard son of a boxer doggy that tried to bite me as I went to pet it **%###2**&. In order to harmonise the look of the bike the owner had the levers, brake disk, bar end and exhaust shroud painted in shimmering Kawasaki green. Also the tail was jacked up to the highest height. On motion it gave the imagery of one of those chariots from Doordarshan’s ramayana. It was mechanically sound though and at my friend’s behest i bought it.
Kolkata police had acquired the irritating new fashion of catching helmetless pillion riders then. This was eight in the morning and shop opens at some indefinite time past 10. My friend had brought his helmet, what shall I do? Now this great friend of mine (I shall not name him) is extremely street smart too. A mall was just ahead, A lot of people were leaving their headgear atop their vroom machine. He walked in smartly, plucked a battered one out and handed over to me. My admiration for him vanished after I brought the opening to my face. The helmet was a few years old, never been washed and smelled like old mustard oil can that also had some long dead things inside it. In the name of 200 rupees fine I put it on. Went home, picked a few beer en route, gave them to my friend for his invaluable service despite his hangover, and promptly ran for shower. I had to wash that helmet over next two weeks to see clear water coming out of it. My friend did a service to that fellow that day by hooking his helmet!
I learned riding on the FZ-S. And I did all the motorcycle mistakes mentioned on book, each and every one without exception. Dad told me ‘use rear brakes, only’. internet says use front brake, 80% braking etc. They forgot to mention that front brake works that much when there is a surface to brake on. Bengal roads back then were like Dakar rally stages with marble strewn on it for extra fun. I had some spectacular accidents. After one of them I literally had to learn to walk again. But I am one tough nail, I’ll give me that much.
After I learned somewhat properly I did long rides, modified the pitiful front light with a HID to make it an awful front light, it worked both to illuminate road surface and blind the oncoming drivers alright. Once I took it to north of Bengal by B roads, sometimes following the Bangladesh Border. In an early morning ride there I saw an elephant uproot a banana plant, in excitement I accelerated and landed in a big arse moon crater on the road, just 500 meters away from the elephant, at high speed. front wheel bent and broken. Half an hour later an empty lorry stopped, Five others and me pushed-pulled the bike on the truck bed.
Have you ever pushed a motorcycle above your head onto a truck? It is somewhat difficult. Also make sure to tie the motorcycle PROPERLY, They did it sort of semi ok. Next 60 kilometres I was fighting a jumping motorcycle on a jumping truck on a bumpy road in the early mornings. The sun was rising, birds cooing, I was fighting one unruly motorcycle that has become a bucking bull and it is trying to puncture my stomach with one of the handles as I tried to hold on. I once tried to leave it alone. Next moment it was bouncing up and down on the ropes on its side, bit like fat fly in a spider net.
To be continued..
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