On the road...

I climb on my hobby horse once again, to go into the city traffic and rescue my laptop from the wages of time. Of course, the old sensory overwhelm-er that a Roadking guarantees was there to take my hand and lead me over the toll bridge that crosses the black river into New Delhi. The clip-on bars make wind drag a thing of the past and although my helmet is not pulling my head off, at certain speeds, the wind in my face makes my eyelids flip up!

Of course, being an old open-face helmet die-hard, I only reach for driving glasses when the ubiquitous truck ahead of me carrying sand on an open bed with no covers makes life difficult. Add to that is the fact that for sand to lift off a truck that size, he has to be well over 70kph and that leaves me with no choice but to overtake the bugger and save my complexion from looking like the surface of the moon [ '...as a matter of fact, it's all dark.' :- ) ].

The Devender of Dayal Motors landed up on Saturday for a tete-a-tighten steering head nut, align rear wheel and take up chain play. I've had two great rides into town and my comfort with the riding position has been growing over the past year. Trust me, counter-steering and all that rookie theory is easier on a un-compromised bike. Almost all bikes manufactured are built to compromises between performance and reliability (in the American mag, Cycle World's review of the exported Enfield Bullets pointed out the distinction between a 'rugged' bike and a 'reliable' bike; meaning don't confuse built to last with low-maintenance).

Something about getting your head and shoulders down in that riding stance also brings out a dogged determination in me to keep rolling without reaching for the brakes and gears too much. I like to find the slight balance between overdrive and torque in the gear box and get on the angles that take me through the forest of cars, bicycles, buses and a billion idiots on two-wheelers who wouldn't know correct riding technique from their ass with a pump and a spoke thrown in.
There, I have an advantage.

My bike can be loud.
Loud enough to make people look around and give way to the urgency in the Roadking growling alongside.
Loud enough to make Enfield Bullet riders who have long decided their's is the loudest engine blat on the road realize that their phat-phat-flappa-flappa four stroke single exhaust note is not as sexy as the steady roar that emits from the Yezdi pipes and keeps on climbing in volume and rpm, until it reaches a crescendo that the poor bullet guy feels like a guy who is hanging around musicians - a drummer.

I love it, since I actually have no intentions to knock any Bullet lover from their ostentatious perch but I would like to be acknowledged as a motorcycle in my own right and deserving of peer respect.

Just to make it up to the Bull-boys out there, here is a pin-up you are not likely to see from Enfield India.