I must say I am envious of those bikers who grew up with ABS and Traction Control. I mean, the BattleCat III doesn’t have TC but it sure has the other bells and whistles like disc brakes and ABS, which, if you had told me in 1990 when I rode the first BattleCat, a 1969 Czech-made Jawa, I’d have laughed it off as either science fiction that could simply not be possible or as something only very very expensive vehicles had. We grew up on drum brakes, which were possibly only a slight improvement on the rubber pads and rim brakes that were used on our bicycles (apparently, I learnt today that today’s cycles also have disc brakes; we are already living in the future, it would seem), and which were operated by the flimsiest of cables and levers that were prone to lag, breakdown, and structural failure on a regular enough basis for us 80s kids to develop a style of braking that can only be described as ABS without the computer, where we gently tapped on the pedal (as we pulled on the front brake lever ever so slightly) to test out whether the tyres were skidding, and as confidence grew, leant on both, the pedal and the lever, with more and more force to bring about deceleration, or if in an emergency, hammered both in and simultaneously prayed that somehow, we could get out alive from what was surely an impending crash, given how confident we were of the lack of any sort of sophistication in the braking system of our time and age.
Anyway, long story short, even when I know that my motorcycle has a modern and efficient braking system, my confidence in it, in terms of whether it will work when I needed it to, was so low that I had never risked putting it to test. Till that Innova ahead of me braked hard and swerved to avoid something (a dog? a pothole? I’ll never know) and without thinking, I slammed on both the brakes as I winced internally and brand for the skidding collision that I presumed was going to be the result of this rash application of brakes on my part.
However, the bike probably didn’t know it had to behave in an erratic manner and slip and slide and fall and bump into things as expected by its rider, and so, the ABS and disc brakes worked beautifully and perfectly in unison to bring her to an absolute stop as if on a bloody dime, leaving me wearing with a silly expression that I was avoided the embarrassment of being seen in public only because of the full-face helmet I was also wearing.
In that moment, I remembered what Shohrat Shankar, an ace motorcyclist I look up to, the co-founder of Knight Riderz Riding Club (KRRC), and after he parted ways with them, my current club, Bikers’ Creed India (BCI), has repeatedly told me: ‘Trust your bike. Trust your brakes. Trust your tyres.’ I have nodded every time he has repeated this, but today, I actually realised what it meant. Thank you Shohrat. I have been impressed with your leadership style earlier. And now, I am impressed at your ability to compress extremely useful advice in extremely small packages. People respect and are awed by other people who can do things they cannot even imagine doing. In my case, it is brevity, or more precisely, pithiness. You have it in spades, my friends. Thank you.
Thank you also, Rahul Majumdar, fondly known as ‘Bacon Baba’, and also a co-founder of BCI, who told me in his usual profound sounding lilting voice that, ‘Your rear wheel’s gonna slip. You can either fear it & fight it or own it & enjoy it. So, own that biatch.’ Today, in the torrential rains as I did a Pune-Pawna Dam-Pune run for a quick meeting with an old college friend who was visiting from Dehradun (though what he was doing in Pawna beats me): Bharat Bhushan Nautiyal, I encountered the truth in Bacon Baba’s mantra. The rear wheel skid and slid over loose gravel and water-logged muddy tracks. But I stayed on. And laughed in face of what would surely have scared me shitless just a couple of months ago before I started riding with BCI. Thanks, Bacon.
The talk of bad roads brings me to the part of this trip that would have been horrifyingly scary to me just a couple of months ago before I joined BCI. Potholes, slick & slippery mud, loose gravel, sharp shoulders, steep climbs, sheer drops, change of road surface, and even the complete disappearance of the road itself at places that came up so suddenly upon you that one would be forgiven to think the road as some sentient being that is planning to ambush you when you least expect it with the hope of pulling a ‘Bazinga’ as you stumble and hopefully fall so it can have a little private laugh at your expense. But I had already been prepared for this, unknowingly actually, by Karan Aklujkar (you guessed right, another co-founder of BCI and a kickass rider) during my first off-road where I was right behind him and was following the age-old system of learning called ‘monkey see-monkey do’ where all that I focused on doing (given that I was riding a motorcycle for the first time in around 20 years, my last two-wheeler, a beautiful red Pulsar 180, having been sold off in circa 2002-03) was copy the rider ahead of me to the tee. And that is how, ladies & gentlemen, I chanced upon this miracle procedure called ‘saddling’. In it, you simply stand upright (well, almost) on your footrests (once again, you got to trust your motorcycle and her manufacturer enough to presume they won’t give under your weight and all that stress) and use your knees and body weight to steer the bike while holding her very loosely (not too loosely though; you still have to stay on her) and letting the motorcycle and both the wheels simply do their thing. The bike will swerve, skid, slip, thrash about madly under you, but as long as you let her vent and stay out of the way (standing), she’ll stay the course. This was a revelation to me the first time I copied the rider ahead of me (Karan) and realised that as long as I let the bike do her thing without losing my balance (which is quite difficult to do actually when you are standing with your knees gripping the tank, your arms straightened and your fists lightly curled around the handlebar ends), she is quite unlikely to throw me off and indeed feel as light as a feather over rough terrain. Today’s ride to Pawna and back, something that could have been hard and bumpy, rough and uncomfortable without knowledge (and practice) of saddling, turned out to be fun and invigorating. Thank you, Karan. You taught me simply by doing. That, I believe, is the best way to teach.
Saddling is, of course, more difficult than it sounds, or so they tell me. I took to it, however, like fish to water. So much so that I had, over the course of the last month, started doing it even over small bumps and speed breakers only to realise that the narrow stock footrests with the hard rubber cushions are ill-suited for the purpose. To the rescue came Yashovardhan Jibhkate (yes, yes, another co-founder of BCI), someone who has been threatening to ride with me, but somehow manages to pull a Houdini every time I sign up for one. He suggested the Motocaan footpegs, and Prashant Tomar (from Moto Republic), a friend of BCI, and a rider himself, swung into action and made it available to me. That footrest has changed the way I ride more than the touring seat that RE was so generous to gift me last week. Ditto my Scala gloves, which, while not being waterproof really, are so comfortable and effective that they make me feel safer just by the act of wearing them. That was, in some way, a ‘gift’ from Pinakin Kamboj, a tall, lanky, somewhat forgetful, but kind-hearted soul who took me to his favourite shop, insisted I get these gloves, bought something for himself, and then, passed on the discount he received on his purchase to me so I could get them cheap! Thank you, Yashovardhan, Prashant, and Pinakin.
Who’s left? Yes, Prasad Mohod, perhaps the kindest soul in BCI who will go out of his way just to be there for you if you feel like having a beer (even if his South Indian wife, who he never fails to bring up in a conversation, does not exactly approve of his dangerous habit…no, not of drinking, but riding)! He owns a vintage red Yamaha RX-135 and a Hero XPulse, which he rides with such elan and ease that I am actually considering acquiring a Hero XPulse for myself just for off-roading (also because I think that with a lighter motorcycle, I might actually enjoy it rather than hold my breath for the entirety of the session, as it is happening now!), though don’t tell this to Shohrat and gang, with whom I continue to maintain that off-roading is kind of off-limits for me!
And then there are the honourable mentions. Not because they aren’t important to me or my perspective of BCI, but because I have interacted with them rarely, but even with that rare engagement, I have found them to be not just good riders, but also kind humans, which to me trumps being a good rider any day.
There is Amit Shinde, the one with the orange scarf and the chutzpah of a boxer (if I ever get into a fight, I want this guy on my side, though I have a feeling he and I may not see eye-to-eye on our political ideologies, given the colour of his ever-present scarf!).
There is Himel Mazumdar, who I was introduced to as a sweep on my first ride, and in my memory will always remain the one that I can turn to in case of trouble.
Then, there’s Nimish Raval, aka Teddy, a loveable Honda H’ness rider with a dry English wit, a deadpan delivery, and a heart of gold (just ask anyone who has had a drink with him, though he does not drink himself, which is, in a way, his whole charm, or not, depending on how you want to think about it).
There’s Subhranil Saha, known as Himmylock on Instagram, who is not just the nicest chap you can have to fall off your bike together on an off-road (and then sit in the shade and chit-chat about life while other bikers pass you and you wave to them), but also an accomplished off-roader whose videos have a lyrical, poetic quality about them. I never miss them on Insta.
Oh, I forgot Abhay Varma (I think he’s a retired fauji) who is cool as a cucumber chutney sandwich with aam-panha on a hot summer’s day, and if I had to choose (no, really), would be the one person I’d prefer to be in a bike smash with. He and I had a collision, no doubt because of my lack of skill or talent at riding, in Tamhini Ghat some time back, and he was so chilled about it that if I had to store a leg of ham and my refrigerator was not working, I’d ask him to keep it in his pocket and be rest assured it ain’t going bad.
Then, there is Nihal Singh, the quietest (in person) and the loudest (online) rider who loves his Husqy (and never fails to announce her with her full name (Husqvarna Svartpilen 250) even when everyone around him goes, ‘Haan, haan, pataa hai, complicated naam hai’) and stays right behind the leader, jostling for space with me on every ride. Call him for a leisure ride and he’ll rarely say no.
And there’s Vinit Patil, our resident video logger (Vlogger?) whose YouTube videos are eagerly awaited after every ride and avidly watched and commented on, except no one has the heart to tell him that his heavy breathing on air reminds us all of the time we were in college and bunked and went to see some soft-porn Malayalee film at Alpana theatre! In short, he makes us feel young by bringing back those days when we spent Rs.15 and 3 hours watching a fat aunty roll around on a charpoy in a bra and petticoat with a drunk, paunchy, hirsute man in a chequered lungi.
How can I forget my casual, weekday riding partner, Siddharth Deogaokar, a talented photographer who has one of the most powerful bikes in the club but (other than on the twisties where he changes into a MotoGP rider) loves to ride at exactly 80kmph for the entire ride, and never fails to give me company when I fall back!
Who else? Let’s see: Shrikant Deolikar, the Sunny Deol (but with hair) of the club whose helmet is perhaps more famous (at least on my Insta) than his riding, Mihir Adhikari, the innocent but sincere kid everyone loves (yes, including me), Jay Chandrani who also owns an Interceptor 650 and who rides like the wind (just ask anyone who went for the recent Ladakh trip!), Anil Ghate Sir, a senior rider who can put youngsters to shame with his energy and can-do attitude (I still remember how you took over when everyone was just standing around wondering how to straighten my handlebars that had been bent due to my falls in my first off-road, and how quickly you created a workable solution allowing me to ride home without incident), Partha Srinivasan, the resident writer, poet, designer, and tee-shirt expert, ever ready to crack a joke, mostly on himself (even though his estimate of what constitutes an XL has been suspect for some time now!), Arya Gurav, the speed monster who races for India and is a blur on wheels on good, dry roads, and of course, in the ghats where I get vertigo watching him lean, Tushar Patil who comes religiously with his son, Kabeer Kulkarni (they have an Interceptor650 too, like me, apart from a fascinating family history of different surnames for biologically related family members!) and is a father I can look up to in terms of his engagement and involvement in parenting, and Sae, the one and only lady rider I have seen in the club, who I can learn diligence and perseverance from given her determination and passion to ride her beautiful, black Dominar on our rides, even if sometimes she has to struggle with keeping pace. Indeed, if I could have her ‘dog with a bone’ attitude, I’d probably be far more successful in life than I currently am.
Those are the ones I have interacted with to date. I am sure there are some gems I have missed out on, some fantastic people I am yet to ride with, and some amazing folks I have yet to get to know. I look forward to all of it as I ride over the coming weekends. Each of these people has enriched my riding life. And more will do so in the future. I have no doubts.
To all of you, I owe my renewed love for motorcycling, not to mention the maxed-out credit cards (but that is for another day, another story). My ride today was pleasurable because of all the brilliant lessons I learnt from you before this, all the great experiences I had, all the observations I copied and implemented, and of course, because of my beautiful BattleCat. I know you people say it is not the bike, it is the rider, but, here’s my twist to this axiom: It is not JUST the bike or JUST the rider. It is also who the rider has learnt from and who s/he looks up to.
To me, it is you folks. Thank you all. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are all rockstars. You are all my heroes. And I am lucky to be part of the Bikers’ Creed. Here’s to many more rides together.
