THE BEGINNING

My inclination towards bikes, cars and any such machine was nothing more than that of any other boys of my age held. To be precise, I wasn’t a born motorist. But I think most of us are left with only a basic sparkle in our heart and the fire that grows within is entirely depended on how we fan the spark. It is just the same case with any other passion. Some of us remain faithful to
our passions and convert the spark to an intense fire and such people become painters, singers, writers, dancers, travellers, and whatever they wanted to be in their life. I don’t know if I was faithful or selfish because I watered my interest in riding only because I enjoyed each and every moment being on my bike. So, in a way, it was my selfish pleasure that woke up the rider inside me.

I owe to my brother for building the curiosity and enthusiasm, in me, to know more about the world of machines. I would have probably ended up as a lame middle class chicken kid who would have had nothing to boast of as his own, if you were not there showing me the roads to life chettai. And I respect you for giving me the freedom to choose my road. You always showed me the roads but never asked me to choose the one that you preferred. Thanks to you for teaching me riding at a very young age of 12, thanks to you for buying me a bike when I was just 15, and thanks to you for helping me to make my dream, of owning a R15, come true. I remember being there at a Bajaj showroom with the money to book a pulsar 220 (with all due respect to the Pulsar, it is nothing less than a beast, but I was in love with Yamaha then, I am in love with Yamaha now and I will always be in love with Yamaha) and everything changed in a matter of time and in less than two months a brand new R15 was registered in my name. One of the happiest moments in my life. I will never forget that January 10th.

However, coming back to the point, the story starts way before this sexy black lady came to my life. The story starts with my license-less adventures on my Libero G5. Even though the trips were always in and around my hometown and the maximum diameter of tripping was limited to 70kms, it was fun roaming around always looking out for cops on the road. Most of the journeys were at midnight because there wouldn’t be routine ‘checking’ by cops anywhere on the roads. But the tripping story has not yet begun. It begins with the Nandi hills ride with my fellow hooligans on a rented Hero Impulse……