Royal Fame, Glory and Shame.
One can recognize a shiny new bike, if its parked, if it passes by or if it gets stalled. Yes, especially when it gets stalled people will surely know you are a new rider and will look at you as if its an eternal sin to stand in the midst of the mere mortal human race and kick start your bike, fail miserably in doing so and then quietly f*@# off from that place after you have self started the red elephant.
The Enfield is a plain, simple bike and simplicity is the modern art that the bike offers to the rider. For an IT professional owning a bike like the Enfield, quick starts, automation, exception handling, smooth flow, streamlined processes are just adjectives & variables of bull shit written in software development guides and books. Dont expect these words to ever be associated with the Enfield. It doesnt need it. More over you need to be in a relationship where you dont expect much and be bold enough to admit that you love it for what it doesnt have rather than what it has. The Royal Enfield is the simplest of motor cycle designs that one can imagine. To counter that thought it cost as much as a second hand car in India, and as an owner you are constantly taunted by the fact “What have you paid for?” Mr K calls me “Bullet Baburao” I rather like the name and decided to name my bull Baburao. So from now onwards its adventures of Bullet Baburao. The bike is a thrill to start if you really know how to. I am getting a hang of it.
First of all, never throttle the Enfield when you kick it, unlike other bikes that will ignite if throttled at start, the Enfield requires none. In fact you will drown the engine with fuel if you ever do that. I see it very much like the fuel injection system vehicles where you have instructions on your dash board not to throttle while you turn on the ignition switch. But be careful, if you havent decompressed the engine already, the backfire can send your foot to the moon in one shot. Right tnow I am nursing a sore heel from one such beautiful kiss from Baburao. The electric start according to me are for pussies, but when Bengalooru honks behind your ass you better get moving in two seconds or hear unspoken Telugu and Kanada abuses in addition to some north Indian, Malayalam, Tamil and English too! Its as if the IT industry will head towards a disaster of apocalyptic proportions if I wait to kick start my bike. Road sense and patience is literally non existent. So I try to leave a little early to my home and take an inner road that is less congested so that I can ride in peace and its relatively safer. Thump, thump, thump, blast, phat, phissssssssss ... My new bull just stalled. I pushed it to the side and tried starting it, but it would start and die out. This happened for about 2-3 mins and suddenly I could see from the corner of my eye several heads turned towards me, in what looked like an evaluation of my biking skills. 300 eyes of Somasandrapalya were looking at me with great expectations, I felt like Moses on a mission to deliver them to the promised land riding a Gajja vahini that will guide Somasandrapalya through the stenches of the compost dump, over bumpy terrain of HSR layout Extension to the land where they will get F@##ing nothing but red dust on their face. Baburao is famous after all, so I pulled the choke, kicked it like a horse, pressed the self start [exempting my self as a pussy this one time] and finally drew a crowd in close vicinity of my bike. I remembered the scene from Black hawk down where the US maries runing out of ammo see the Somalian militia close in for the kill. After all my efforts I realised that there was one final adjustment I could do to keep the crown amused. And believe me you get respect standing there only if you manage to look busy fiddling with the bike's controls, at least that way you look like an intellectual than a sack of potatoes riding a two wheeler . I turned on the fuel cork to reserve mode and gave it one last kick. Roaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr, the bike started and people went back to their jobs in a matter of seconds as if they were never there at all. Life moved on, dung covered cows crossed my path waving their tails, piglets ran helter skelter squeeling on hearing the noise and Baburao excited with what ever little dignity was left of him rode away into the HSR horizon reciving the setting sun......” Come on people of Somasandrapalya .... I am just learning to ride the bike”.
22.5.07
Every One Make way for me and my Bullet.
“Made like a gun moves like a bullet” Thats how the Royal Enfield Motorcycle or the popularly known Bullet has been known to the world. For years I longed to own one of two bikes that really gave me goose bumps when I heard their engines thump, the Yezdi road king and the Bullet Standard. Unfortunately, the Yezdi's drove to extinction and the Royal Enfield through its marketing struggles and many changes in ownership in India survived to create what came of age a tradition and roving religion called Bull owners or Bulletiers. Riding became a passion and the Enfield became the most touted tattoo of the roadie.
In India owning a bike comes before owning a car, as economics still rules the buying decisions of middle class families, I went the other way around, got a car before a bike. But always drooled at Bullets passing by when ever I saw one. After hearing my unending praises, countless bows to the legend and tired of swimming in my drool pool, my wife, convinced me to go ahead and own one. Family resilience was prime factor with my mom not aproving of motorbikes in the family and my dad, sceptical of its utility when we have a four-wheeler present. It took me two years of reading websites, personal blogs, bike reviews, scouring the Royal Enfield website and talking to bullet owners before I went ahead with the decision to own a Royal Enfield. My very own red Electra 4S with electronic start, which arrived on 19th May 2007. Although I had never ridden a bullet for more than 5 mins of my life, I managed to ride 10 kms through rush hour Bangalore evening traffic from Jayanagar to HSR layout, accompanied by my bulleting buddy Mr K, yes the same Mr K who went with me to Africa and other escapades in early 2006. I picked up the Enfield from the company owned showroom adjacent to the Jayadeva flyover at Jaya Nagar. To start with I had to wait a month for the red color which is a rarity considering bikes like silver and black only sell most of the time. But I was not ready to compromise for the color.
I drove the bike holding my breath, wearing a helmet that squashed my skull like a torture brace. Got cramps on my hips as I had to squat on this huge seat and would ocasionally stand up in traffic shaking them to relieve the pain. But the quick changing traffic lights, abusive honking, terrorizing close passes by KSRTC buses and city taxis gave me the inspiration to drive on with the aching hip and sore toes and heels. Its an art to shift gears on the bullet, it is even a greater art to shift back wards with two different levers for doing one action called gear change. So we crossed Jayadeva flyover, rode through BTM and arrived at Silk Board flyover. Mr. K asked me to turn right at BDA complex on outer ring road so that we can take a traffic free road home. At the BTM signal I thumped away at the green light and Mr K who was following me missed me and waited a few meters ahead of the bus stop at Silk board. The deal was that K would safe guard me from behind while I drove the bike so that other motorists wont intimidate me. It was like some squadron flight formation routine that we would follow till we reached home.
I came to BDA complex turned right and K was not in sight. I called to find out that he was waiting for me at Silk Board assuming that some thing had happened to me and was circling the area looking for bikes in the dark. Any way we met up again at BDA complex and drove through the inner lanes of HSR to reach 24th main. K proceeded to his house while I went to mine and picked up my wife to join Mr K who had hosted a dinner in honour of my new purchase. Mr K was more excited about the bike than me and was ever helpful in advising me about the bike and personally accompanying me to the showroom to pick it up. A bulletier since 5.5 years Mr K has done several road trips and is the happy-go- luck biker having a touch and go relation ship with his bull. Even when he gets the bull out after 4 months from his garage, he still manages to get it started in one kick and proudly swears that there is no better bike than the Enfield. Me an my wife drove back home on the empty street of HSR at 11 pm scaring the street dogs and turning heads. My wife wanted me to drive around the house and get confident before I went on the main roads, surely enough, I decided to take a ride on Sunday evening to get a hold on the bike and its controls. I took a short ride from HSR on outer ring toad towards Marathahalli junction and back. The bike inspires admiration, repect and gossip. At every signal I could see car drivers looking at the bike and making comments to the fellow passengers and making gestures towards me. The shiny new red bullet was an eye catcher if not my round belly hovering about the tank dwarfing its looks. But to ride a bullet you also need some meat on your self so I shall happily ride on to discover new unchartered territory, go where no man has gone before, mark the earth with tyre threads that only the winds of Somasandra Palya can wipe out. Until next time...
“Made like a gun moves like a bullet” Thats how the Royal Enfield Motorcycle or the popularly known Bullet has been known to the world. For years I longed to own one of two bikes that really gave me goose bumps when I heard their engines thump, the Yezdi road king and the Bullet Standard. Unfortunately, the Yezdi's drove to extinction and the Royal Enfield through its marketing struggles and many changes in ownership in India survived to create what came of age a tradition and roving religion called Bull owners or Bulletiers. Riding became a passion and the Enfield became the most touted tattoo of the roadie.
In India owning a bike comes before owning a car, as economics still rules the buying decisions of middle class families, I went the other way around, got a car before a bike. But always drooled at Bullets passing by when ever I saw one. After hearing my unending praises, countless bows to the legend and tired of swimming in my drool pool, my wife, convinced me to go ahead and own one. Family resilience was prime factor with my mom not aproving of motorbikes in the family and my dad, sceptical of its utility when we have a four-wheeler present. It took me two years of reading websites, personal blogs, bike reviews, scouring the Royal Enfield website and talking to bullet owners before I went ahead with the decision to own a Royal Enfield. My very own red Electra 4S with electronic start, which arrived on 19th May 2007. Although I had never ridden a bullet for more than 5 mins of my life, I managed to ride 10 kms through rush hour Bangalore evening traffic from Jayanagar to HSR layout, accompanied by my bulleting buddy Mr K, yes the same Mr K who went with me to Africa and other escapades in early 2006. I picked up the Enfield from the company owned showroom adjacent to the Jayadeva flyover at Jaya Nagar. To start with I had to wait a month for the red color which is a rarity considering bikes like silver and black only sell most of the time. But I was not ready to compromise for the color.
I drove the bike holding my breath, wearing a helmet that squashed my skull like a torture brace. Got cramps on my hips as I had to squat on this huge seat and would ocasionally stand up in traffic shaking them to relieve the pain. But the quick changing traffic lights, abusive honking, terrorizing close passes by KSRTC buses and city taxis gave me the inspiration to drive on with the aching hip and sore toes and heels. Its an art to shift gears on the bullet, it is even a greater art to shift back wards with two different levers for doing one action called gear change. So we crossed Jayadeva flyover, rode through BTM and arrived at Silk Board flyover. Mr. K asked me to turn right at BDA complex on outer ring road so that we can take a traffic free road home. At the BTM signal I thumped away at the green light and Mr K who was following me missed me and waited a few meters ahead of the bus stop at Silk board. The deal was that K would safe guard me from behind while I drove the bike so that other motorists wont intimidate me. It was like some squadron flight formation routine that we would follow till we reached home.
I came to BDA complex turned right and K was not in sight. I called to find out that he was waiting for me at Silk Board assuming that some thing had happened to me and was circling the area looking for bikes in the dark. Any way we met up again at BDA complex and drove through the inner lanes of HSR to reach 24th main. K proceeded to his house while I went to mine and picked up my wife to join Mr K who had hosted a dinner in honour of my new purchase. Mr K was more excited about the bike than me and was ever helpful in advising me about the bike and personally accompanying me to the showroom to pick it up. A bulletier since 5.5 years Mr K has done several road trips and is the happy-go- luck biker having a touch and go relation ship with his bull. Even when he gets the bull out after 4 months from his garage, he still manages to get it started in one kick and proudly swears that there is no better bike than the Enfield. Me an my wife drove back home on the empty street of HSR at 11 pm scaring the street dogs and turning heads. My wife wanted me to drive around the house and get confident before I went on the main roads, surely enough, I decided to take a ride on Sunday evening to get a hold on the bike and its controls. I took a short ride from HSR on outer ring toad towards Marathahalli junction and back. The bike inspires admiration, repect and gossip. At every signal I could see car drivers looking at the bike and making comments to the fellow passengers and making gestures towards me. The shiny new red bullet was an eye catcher if not my round belly hovering about the tank dwarfing its looks. But to ride a bullet you also need some meat on your self so I shall happily ride on to discover new unchartered territory, go where no man has gone before, mark the earth with tyre threads that only the winds of Somasandra Palya can wipe out. Until next time...
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