Reflections: Motorcycling

Motorcycling can be better than sex. After all you can go for a ride and then ride some more and ride some more until you reach the end of the road. Then you can turn back and ride some more.

Riding can be seriously addictive. Its an experience to be experienced. Like eating chocolate for some people, riding bikes is the best thing that every happened to me.

I started riding Bikes quite late in life. When I was young, my dad told me very clearly that he would never buy me a bike. He expected me to earn my bike. And I don't hold anything against him as after buying my bike, I felt a bond with my bike which I didn't even feel with my brother. My bike became my extension. Like my limbs or my heart it became a part of me.

In India almost every other person has a two wheeler. Either a Bike or a scooter. I had ridden scooters so they held no passion for me but bikes were different. I loved bikes. And especially British bikes. In India Royal Enfield Bullet is a very popular bike. It's a single cylinder bike also called as thumper because of its famous deep thump. I fell in love with this bike as a kid and had made up my mind that the day I had enough money, I would be splurging on a nice Bullet.

After buying my bullet my life changed. I found a gang of enthusiastic bikers in Mumbai called as InddieThumpers and soon the roads were our companions. Long rides became the staple diet of the weekends. New places to explore, new experiences and new friends.

I remember the ride when I had my first crash over an oil spill. I remember the sun setting over the horizon framed like a picture postcard over the road. I remember the cool lakes where we rode and then swam. I remember the twisting roads over hills and the feeling of complete freedom as we rode.

I remember the fun the camaraderie and brotherhood inspired by a bike. I remember the way we never left anyone behind. I remember the way bikes were fixed in a jiffy on the roadside and the hot cups of tea as we stopped after 4 hours of serene riding. All these memories and more were shared with my bike.

The kinship with my bike went deeper. When one day I was posted to UK and I had to leave my beautiful Bronte' in Mumbai. I miss her deeply. The soft thump when she started and the deep growl on the 4th gear are old memories. Each day now is reminiscing the good old biking days and dreams of riding again.

Learn more about this author, Happy Dan.
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