Why do I ride?
I am increasingly getting inspired by the great mastermind of Scott Adams -- not with his political views about the American elections or his viewpoints on free will (and how he and Albert Einstein are in the same league when it comes to that) ... These are all incidental. What I am getting increasingly inspired by, is his ability to write a post every freaking day, over and over and over again. I mean, look at it, how does one find a topic to write on every day?
I write only when I am back from a bike ride. But then, suddenly an alarming thought strikes me today. And the thought is this -- Am I getting limited by my physical and practical ability of bike rides and travels?
If that is the case, then it is an influence I need to break. Else, what will soon happen is that if I need to think of anything new, I will need to hop onto the bike and start riding. Which is great, only may not be practical always.
So here is a post for no particular reason really. I am not riding today, although the shades of last weekend's ride to Saat tal are still quite fresh in mind's eye. But there is not much I wish to write about the ride right now.
There are a lot of times when a biker is asked - why do you ride? ... In fact, in almost every ride, there comes one time when the Sun is really on a burning rampage, and the roads are bumpy, and your butt is on fire by all the riding done so far, and there is still almost the same distance or even more to cover, and there are layers of dust marginally settled on the insides of your helmet and you have lost the direction in which you are going (basically you don't know if you are coming or going). At this time, you ask yourself - why the hell do I ride? Why am I not at home, with family, in front of the TV, watching Friends reruns, or downloading the latest ringtones in the comfort of my living room?
There are some really smart writeups about why people ride. We all know of Robert Pirsig's highly inspiring writeup in "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance". Closer home, there are also the awe-inspiring snippets "When the sky is your pipal tree" and "What is bigger than a bullet" by Swami Ashwinanada.
But I think in all their completeness and intellectual approach to this, these miss out the basic raw reasons and rationalities of bike riding. I will try to compile some of them here.
When you ride your coveted bullet, you get to make animated and obscene gestures at every passing truckie who refuses to give way to the mighty bullet.
You get to stop by at every possible chai walla and have the local cookies, khatais and the progressively concentrated chai.
You get to pass through a train crossing even if it is closed for other vehicles. You may have to dismount for this, but that's a small inconvenience you are willing to bare.
You get to overtake two really heady trucks who are trying to compete with each other for the prize of the slowest dork hogging the highway bandwidth. All you got to do is go right through the two of them. You may need a steady hand on the handle for this, but I am sure with some practice this is almost a reflex action.
You get to pee on any side of the rode at any time you feel like behind any tree you choose.
On a particularly smooth and long stretch, you can stretch your legs on both sides and even stand up on the leg-rests. The numbness that crops up your spine has no comparison. Even better if there is a tempo traveller full of townsfolk going the other way. All 35 of them will be watching you in awe.
You get to park at every possible shoulder of a long winding road and take in the breath-taking panorama as much as you want. You may want to even treat yourself to a warm "bhutta" (corn) if you are doing this ride to Shimla in the monsoon.
You get the pleasure of outrunning the local shah rukh khans on their pathetically little mopeds and hero hondas in the villages and towns of Northern India.
You get to be treated like royalty whereever you go. Your joy will be multiplied in case you like the fact that every second person who stops to admire your bullet asks you - "yeh kya diesel pe chalti hai?" ... And then there is the perennial question of "Average kitna deti hai?" ... You should also prepare a very thoughful and emotional answer to some more common questions like "Kahan se aaye ho?", "Kahan ja rahe ho" ... and what takes the cake is - "yeh kya Racing chal rahi hai ???"
I love the cool breeze with a ting of mustard seeds, sweeping your face when you cross the vast plains of northern India, especially in Uttaranchal en route to Mussoorie. I love the dark soil of the western ghats when you are going from Mumbai towards Ahmednagar - not to mention the Handi Chicken you get on the dhabas en route. I love the sight of mystic mountains of Kumaon when you cross Haldwani.
I especially love it when there is a huge traffic blockage on the highway due to some sugarcane-carrying dumper has fallen like a Greek hero in the Trojan War -- remains spread all over the place. All the small, medium and big four-wheelers are sweating in their cabins, swatting flies, cursing all the gods and semigods that they know of; and you, like a Maradona in the soccer field, make your way within a split second through the general confusion and appear victorious on the other side of the field.
More than anything else, I love the fact that I drive at my own pace. No questions. No counter-questions. No planning, re-planning and re-re-planning. No cribs. No regimented timetables and schedules. For the journey that is embarked upon, only my machine and myself are responsible.
- Shreekant
I write only when I am back from a bike ride. But then, suddenly an alarming thought strikes me today. And the thought is this -- Am I getting limited by my physical and practical ability of bike rides and travels?
If that is the case, then it is an influence I need to break. Else, what will soon happen is that if I need to think of anything new, I will need to hop onto the bike and start riding. Which is great, only may not be practical always.
So here is a post for no particular reason really. I am not riding today, although the shades of last weekend's ride to Saat tal are still quite fresh in mind's eye. But there is not much I wish to write about the ride right now.
There are a lot of times when a biker is asked - why do you ride? ... In fact, in almost every ride, there comes one time when the Sun is really on a burning rampage, and the roads are bumpy, and your butt is on fire by all the riding done so far, and there is still almost the same distance or even more to cover, and there are layers of dust marginally settled on the insides of your helmet and you have lost the direction in which you are going (basically you don't know if you are coming or going). At this time, you ask yourself - why the hell do I ride? Why am I not at home, with family, in front of the TV, watching Friends reruns, or downloading the latest ringtones in the comfort of my living room?
There are some really smart writeups about why people ride. We all know of Robert Pirsig's highly inspiring writeup in "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance". Closer home, there are also the awe-inspiring snippets "When the sky is your pipal tree" and "What is bigger than a bullet" by Swami Ashwinanada.
But I think in all their completeness and intellectual approach to this, these miss out the basic raw reasons and rationalities of bike riding. I will try to compile some of them here.
When you ride your coveted bullet, you get to make animated and obscene gestures at every passing truckie who refuses to give way to the mighty bullet.
You get to stop by at every possible chai walla and have the local cookies, khatais and the progressively concentrated chai.
You get to pass through a train crossing even if it is closed for other vehicles. You may have to dismount for this, but that's a small inconvenience you are willing to bare.
You get to overtake two really heady trucks who are trying to compete with each other for the prize of the slowest dork hogging the highway bandwidth. All you got to do is go right through the two of them. You may need a steady hand on the handle for this, but I am sure with some practice this is almost a reflex action.
You get to pee on any side of the rode at any time you feel like behind any tree you choose.
On a particularly smooth and long stretch, you can stretch your legs on both sides and even stand up on the leg-rests. The numbness that crops up your spine has no comparison. Even better if there is a tempo traveller full of townsfolk going the other way. All 35 of them will be watching you in awe.
You get to park at every possible shoulder of a long winding road and take in the breath-taking panorama as much as you want. You may want to even treat yourself to a warm "bhutta" (corn) if you are doing this ride to Shimla in the monsoon.
You get the pleasure of outrunning the local shah rukh khans on their pathetically little mopeds and hero hondas in the villages and towns of Northern India.
You get to be treated like royalty whereever you go. Your joy will be multiplied in case you like the fact that every second person who stops to admire your bullet asks you - "yeh kya diesel pe chalti hai?" ... And then there is the perennial question of "Average kitna deti hai?" ... You should also prepare a very thoughful and emotional answer to some more common questions like "Kahan se aaye ho?", "Kahan ja rahe ho" ... and what takes the cake is - "yeh kya Racing chal rahi hai ???"
I love the cool breeze with a ting of mustard seeds, sweeping your face when you cross the vast plains of northern India, especially in Uttaranchal en route to Mussoorie. I love the dark soil of the western ghats when you are going from Mumbai towards Ahmednagar - not to mention the Handi Chicken you get on the dhabas en route. I love the sight of mystic mountains of Kumaon when you cross Haldwani.
I especially love it when there is a huge traffic blockage on the highway due to some sugarcane-carrying dumper has fallen like a Greek hero in the Trojan War -- remains spread all over the place. All the small, medium and big four-wheelers are sweating in their cabins, swatting flies, cursing all the gods and semigods that they know of; and you, like a Maradona in the soccer field, make your way within a split second through the general confusion and appear victorious on the other side of the field.
More than anything else, I love the fact that I drive at my own pace. No questions. No counter-questions. No planning, re-planning and re-re-planning. No cribs. No regimented timetables and schedules. For the journey that is embarked upon, only my machine and myself are responsible.
- Shreekant
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