Red-dy Gar-u

When I was 6, I wanted to be an automobile engineer. I imagined that when I grew up I would build cars and jeeps and the entire nation would run on my 'V' badged super cars. As preparation to my future, I made my parents buy as many miniature cars as the number of outings we took - even if the outing was to the next street grocery shop.

At 16, when hormones worked overtime, my preferences changed and I decided to be a taxi. Like when I was 6, I wanted to prepare for it. So when my parents bought their first 800 like many other Indians, I sneaked the car out as often as I can. After a few initial bumps and scraps I learnt to drive in quick time. I had a good father who rivaled and sometimes surpassed me dumping the car that we cancelled each others' damages. Mum did not know our deal.

Soon I realised that being a taxi driver is not such a good job. Thanks to television, I was enlightened that the job of taxi drivers also had other duties such as buying vegetables, picking up the ironed clothes from the iron-man and washing dishes. The first two were acceptable; but washing dishes? You know how I cringe to touch water. So to soak my hands entirely in a pool of water was not something I could do for the driving job.

My car building plan was still at the back of my head. But I dropped it when I was in my second year of college. I had solid reasons. I had to complete a course called Mechanics of Solids which is fundamental for mechanical engineers. And usually mechanical engineers specialised to become automobile engineers who made cars. But midway through the course I realised that all I was making in the course was zeros. By the looks of it, I could only make circular tyres from the zeros. An engine-less car is no good. So I dropped the plan as I was intelligent enough to know when to give up.

Now, at 26, the mad rush for cars resurfaced again a few weeks ago - but this time to own a car. So I bought one with Jinku's money. I was happy that I could make atleast one part of my car dreams come true, but there were some practical niggles.

First, the UK rules are not as good as Indian rules. In the UK, I am not allowed to park anywhere I want to. Not just that, I have to pay money to park MY car! And; I have to remove the car in less than 2 hours in most places. What a scam. Even when I pay money, I don't get value for the money. I can not park the car the way I want to. I will have to reverse park and parallel park in many places. Why are the British so keen on inserting their cars between other cars? Don't they know it is vulgar to do so in public in many cultures and Britain being a multicultural country must spare a thought for foreigners from other cultures? But the best of all British queerness is that they have speed cameras to spot you if you drove fast. The primary use of a car is to travel from point A to point B as quickly as possible. So what sense does it make to limit your speed?

It is not just the road rules. Buying a car is not just buying a car. One has to get a car insurance which is half the price of the car and no sane man will find logic in it. Even if I crashed my car once every 3 years, instead of just the repairs that the insurance company pays for, will I be not able to buy a new car if I saved up the money I used to insure the car? There is more madness. But I have to stop right here as my tom-tom is alerting me of a security camera watching me rubbishing British rules. But before runaway, come to think of it, what use are the speed cameras when tom-toms know where exactly the cameras are located and warn you a mile before the cameras spot you!

Front & Back

S: Why the hell do they have white boards in the front and yellow boards at the back of cars here in the UK?
N: Because that is how we identify which side the front is and which side the back is?

The last ride

It will be unfair to let go of Snowwhite into oblivion without acknowledging what she was to me. I remember the day she arrived in the train - glittering black, dressed in jute and cardboard. I then only theoretically knew to ride a motorcycle and all the practice was to come in the busy roads of Chennai. I did very well, crashing her only once into a Premier Padmini at a signal in Mount road. I forgot how to work the break!

From then until last November, Snowwhite was through my thick and thin. On bright, sunny and light Saturdays, we ambled around the city in pure joy. The early morning rides were a delight as we pierced through the cool winds and raced monstrous machines. When I have had my lean moments, we pushed ourselves to the limits, sending us into states of ecstasy and indescribable trance. The first 100 and the many 100s will always be memorable.

I knew it would only be fitting if we did one last long ride before I left. So we drove from Chennai to Bangalore.

It took a while to get out of Chennai. However, it was all fun once we were on the highway. The 50s in the outskirts turned to 80s. We broke journey for breakfast and then the speed perched up a notch higher, constantly kicking the 100 marker.

You know the feeling when facing a new and challenging situation? - The not my comfort zone feeling? And then you grill through and have enough of it until that hyper state becomes a normal comfort state. The nervous jitters at the beginning when the speedometer struck 100 was soon gone. The 'will Snowwhite take a puncture' or 'will I skid her off the road' questions were soon forgotten. And soon, we were cruising a little over 110. It was a breeze. But we never got further than that. That was her physical limit.

While we reached Bangalore in a little less than four and half hours, Arun's stupendous directional skills meant that it took over seven hours in total to get to his cousin's place.

It was a very satisfying ride. I rode to my heart's content and now, it was okay to let go of Snowwhite. She had saved her best for the last ride. It was evident when I calculated how much petrol she consumed during the trip. She could only do a 35 kms per litre while she usually does 50.

It is going to be very challenging for her especially with Arun and D together. Their combined m(m=we)ight broke his Yamaha's axle. But she will be alright.

Speed limit

Have you ever wondered why several motorists drive at hair raising speeds in the road abutting the Elliot's beach? I have; several times; until I solved the riddle this morning.

115!

Balu says his bike can clock 100 kmph just like that. Mine is a Discover too. A 125. I however have always struggled to reach 100. 90 is doable in most roads. But a 100? It has always been the thing that you could do but you wouldn't do. I always feel the bike to be running out of breath beyond 90 and I hate bruising the machine. It was the same story, until a few days back...

I had to be out one early morning and as I reached close to the Tidel Park signal, something whizzed past me and stopped at the signal for the red light - A Suzuki Burgman 650. I had the bike serviced a few days back and was in no mood to crank the accelerator. But this was an open invitation.

A 650 cc machine pumping out 54 bhp looked like a gaint compared to my bike. But what the heck. That one looks like a scooter. May be a gaint scooter. And bikes are always faster then scooters. I had to race.

There is an unspoken language at all traffic signals. As you brake and look around, you always notice 'them', and 'they' always notice 'you'. Then all of you, together, crouch and look at your visors for a second, lift up your heads and gaze at the traffic lights. The light at the adjacent signal goes yellow. Three. Two. One. It's green and go.

It is familiar territory from here on. A straight road, trees on the side that look like a hazy splash of never-ending green, a bump in the road that is always ignored, a blurry image of bikes in the rear view mirror, a feeling of intoxication, joy and elation all at one go and the speedometer reading... 115! a one hundred-and-fifteen!

As I slowed down near the Madhya Kailash turn, the Burgman whizzed past me.

I told you! Bikes are faster than Scooters!

My motorcycle diaries - The missing NH205

Balan and Nirmal's combined threats to leave me behind if I rode the motorcycle to Goa made me abandon the plan. Although Balan had consented to travelling to Pondicherry on our bikes, he has never had the time since he started to prepare for his k-interviews. Nirmal has vowed never to ask for travel plans ever since I told him that we should ride upto Rameshwaram on a weekend.

The best I could possibly think of to get my bike on to the highway was to sneak out without anyone's knowledge. I managed to do that this good friday. I decided to ride to Kone falls, which is on the way to Tirupati. A 2 minute search on google maps revealed that the falls is in Andhra Pradesh and is about 150 kms from my apartment. My apartment - Mount Road - North Madras - NH5 - NH205 - Kone Falls.

It was more than 25 kms before I crossed Chennai. The 4 laned NH5 is a fantastic road to ride. I could consistently keep the speedometer locked at 90kmph. It is however good to keep an alert foot over the brake as many truck drivers seemed like former pizza delivery boys. They just won't stick to one lane. Lack of trees on the highway also meant that it was very windy for a comfortable ride in some sections.

Unlike Karnataka, the signboards were in English. Infact it was hard to find jelabis. However, the signboards were few and very hard to find. The NH205 never came and I realised at one point that I was travelling quite close to Nellore.

I thanked myself for having honed my 'objective' language skills during the trip to Goa and Hampi. "Tirupati". "Kone Falls". "Falls". All fingers pointed to the direction I had driven from. All fingers pointed to Tada. I did not know that there existed a place called Tada and I did not know there was a falls in Tada. It was the Ubbalamadugu falls - around 20 kms off the highway through mud roads and boulders; plus a trek up the mountains.



I skipped the trek. I had not eaten since the night before and a 5 km trek on a man-less jungle didn't seem the right thing to do. The stream that trickled from the falls was good enough for a splash.


The journey back home was much quicker until I was close to Chennai and when it began to rain. It was supposedly the heaviest rain in many Aprils. I was wet to the skin and the raincoat didn't help at all.

Back at home, I skipped gym for the day, hogged 2 days' meals in one go and headed to bed; wondering how I missed the 205.