A Ride To Remember...

Duug Duug Duug Duug...

The roar of the mean machine is unmistakable, a distinctive chick magnet, guaranteed to garner that second glance.

And if you happen to be as lucky as me, to ride pillion behind the guy who makes your heart skip a beat, it would be one ride you’d not forget in a hurry.

So when TOOMA zipped to my doorstep on the shiny red mo’bike on his birthday, my heart went aflutter. After all, its not everyday that I get to act out one of my oft-repeated dreams...

I was akin to a delighted child, who had just been presented with a much-prayed-for present, and now that it was right in front, was unsure whether to:
a) Clap hands
b) Jump up and down
c) Give a whoooopeeee of pure, unadulterated glee
d) All the above

So I settled for a girlie hand over my mouth (lest my screams of ecstasy brought all the neighbors to see what all the fuss was all about), and hugged TOOMA more than my usual self.

After a complete five minutes - what with my staring at the beauty, and TOOMA's ciggie-marathon, it was time for the much-awaited ride.

I needed no second bidding.

Within a trice, I was sitting behind him. As soon as the engine started full throttle, I knew that the red beauty meant business.

Roaring like a roused tiger, it sprang into action, causing those on the road to make way for the royalty.

The wind in my hair, the warm sun shining on my face, a song in my heart, holding the guy I love, smelling his divine cologne - what more could a woman ask for.

Evening was even better. The cool evening wind did wonders for my cheeks – giving them a flushed, dewy-fresh, freshly-kissed, rouged look…

Would you blame me that I asked for a retry?

Vrooooooom! Till next month, my motto is:

I SHALT BE PATIENT...

Rider Mania 2007: Nagpur, January 24 - 25.

The thunderous roars will be heard from a mile away.

The assembled group-members will not be more dissimilar.

Lanky barely-crossed-sixteen pubescents, bandanna-ed-20-year-somethings, suave corporate types who look straight out of boardroom meets, a spattering of women looking completely at ease in the male-dominated scene, pony-tailed beer-bellied men hanging on to the last shreds of their youth (and rapidly-receding hairlines) – you name them, they will be there.

Welcome to the Rider Mania 2007, the annual event where all Royal Enfield club members across the country collect as one.

The event, organized last year by Chennai’s Madras Bulls, is being taken charge of by Wanderlust Bullet Club, a Nagpur club.


So there’s more to Nagpur than its oranges, you must be thinking.

You bet there is.

At this time there, Royal Enfield aficionados, enthusiastically gathered for the 2-day long beer and bike fest, would have gunned their mean machines into full throttle...

Now if only I knew how to drive one of those machines, I too would have been jostling for my own place there.

PS: Just came across the Wanderlust anthem, “Thundergods of the Road.”

I’m a tamer of storms
Enslaver of the highways
Sleepin' where I fall
A rebel livin' my way

Wanderlust emblazoned on my heart
Motorcycle fire blazing in my soul

I’m a thundergod...of the road

I’ve ridden through the desert, the forest and the trees
I’m a ruler of the mountains, ruler of the breeze
I ride through the sunshine, the rain and snow
Leave a blazing trail of fire anywhere i go

I’m a thundergod...of the road

You better beware, don’t mess with me honey
You better watch what you do
I ain’t playin’ no games, gonna take no sh*t
I’m gonna piss on your attitude

My motor spittin' lightnin', my engine roaring thunder
My wheels keep spinnin', like the spell im under
Devils in my soul, angels by my side
Born to raise hell, I was born to ride

I’m a thundergod...of the road.

Not bad, huh?

Here come the hot steppers...

Va Va Vrooom...
The mean machines have arrived full-throttle.
Besides the killer-on-wheels, Suzuki Hayabusa(that steamed up the movie, Dhoom), another another wish-listed bike is all geared to receive a "roaring" welcome in the country.
Harley Davidson aficionados, sit up and take note - it couldn’t get any better than this.
The machine that has ruled the roost since 1903 could land up in your garage sooner than you thought(provided of course, you have the green bills to pay for it – and I'm guessing you'll have to pay through your nose for this one).
The Indian commerce ministry has given the green signal for the import of these to-die-for bikes.
Although one wouldn’t get any cut on import duty, I bet many would give an arm and a leg for these bikes, which are synonymous with bad boys, whipped-with-wind-faces, machismo, raw power, and pure lust.
It's time for you to stop grinning from ear to ear.
Go take a ride instead.
I'm certain you wouldn't want to get off.