I wake

I roll

I clean my pipes

I clean your panels

We roll out

as per plan

I leave you

(maybe out in the rain)

You rust and chew my butt

I leave you again

You decide you dont like my plans

I pick her up

You chew me up again

I give up

Either of you will call me again

Maybe I need another plan.

I roll

I plan and pet your panels at the same time

I polish your panels

open communication channels

I paint your pipes -

weekend attention thing types

etcetera,...

We roll again;

She dosen't.

"You are today where your thoughts have brought you;
you will be tomorrow where your thoughts take you."~ James Allen

----------------------------

dunnotwhatwrong,
dumbigheadontcare
fallingin;fallingout
falling
giving up and still knowing
smiling and still going
god bless wheels
they make leaving easy
just find a downhill
and
let go.
no hope outside headlights
no scope when the brake bites
alloyed head, piston heart pump
there'll be maintainance in the morning
hangovers, chores and yearning
butfornowicanhearpetrolcalling.

The Lost Stallion/The Black Rider Touches 119kph on Stock After 16 Years

we live and we breathe through two nostrils that need to be bigger if we try and do harder work.. Night curves and your foot swings free of the pedal as you swerve through traffic, all lightness and grace bestowed by the motor humming between your knees. She won’t let you down, you’ve been in conversation with her for two weeks prior to this ride. 3rd gear tops at 84kph. Top speed doubles is 110kph. Cars coming up fast, lanes that were longer seem to be all diagonal swathes across gaps that must be predicted as closing gaps. Cut back and let the left hand go at 80. Child’s play, physical memory, I’ve held this so long I’ve got to calling it home/second nature/easy. All memories strung out in a white wake of smoke. The stodgy yezdi delivered it’s own factory modified version and that was the road er, king.



[UPDATE: Since then, last saturday, on a ride organised by Som, we found that one could shift out of third at 96. Unfortunately top speed was clocked at 119 with a change from third to fourth gear at around 85-86kph. Every body say hello to
'The Black Rider' (ref 2 Tom Waits)]



ANY WAY
here are pix of the ride



turnout: 3Yez3Bullets (nice road for it, eh dudes?)

som & raja

Was down in the evening, been running a temperature, decided to take Min's bike out for a spin. Spent the last three weekends starting her up, smoking up the neighbourhood in a cloak of white and banging at the front mudguard to ensure it dont touch the wheel and my favourite therapy: hours and hours of labour wiping the bikes three, four or five times a day, both sides, all parts. I ain't know fool. Peole laugh, but when you do all your own maintenance, my cleaning sessions allow me to handle and examine each and every part on the bike regularly and much before any breakdown or failure or wear can spell disaster!I've decided to take care of the rusty tank problem the hard way. Ride it, clean oil off the spark plug every 20 km or so. Three disposable fuel filters and one glass bottle magnet filter in between my fuel tank and engine! Do I need a Y-shaped cross to bear or what!neway, took her out, no lights, one errant front indicator that refused to shut due to a loose switch, sooooft suspension, muted exhaust note (not like Bird Flu) and gobs of smooth surge that pulls your elbows when she goes. that is, when she goes.She stopped after the fuel bunk. I kicked around for some time, cleaned the plug, the carburettor flooded, cleaned plug again, kicked around again. She still wouldn't start,so i put her in third and ran. Push-started her and hopped on to the seat of the running bike, hanging on to the clutch lever. Blipped throttle on the short ride back home and found that she splutters in the higher engine revs. This bike has stalled on all three ocassions it has been ridden. today was the third ride. the first was to a yezdi group meeting when she did 112kph on the bridge and died out due to rust collecting in the carb due to the rusty tank. The other time was also with min when we took the bike out to my bank. She wouldnt start and there was I gasping for some more energy to try starting it some more, but with no idea or pretentions of poise. Never had the courage to wonder of inquire what the girl thought of it all. For me, such moments, faced with a bike that won't start are moments when i face my basic uselessness on the planet. when i was a kid, i used to look for reason to feel the same state of exhaustion come upon me. welcome it for the feeling of being alive. Today, I have objectives in life and I no longer welcome the feeling of reaching the end of the line. I like it only if I am in a state of adventure or if I have an objective. Bikes are different, they are supposed to run. If they don't, you feel utterly helpless before the hunk of metal that was earlier able to locomote under its own power. I feel like i've reached the blank end of the meaning of life.Only fellow riders know what i refer to. Yet none of us are experts, we all hold our tongues and continue our attempts while hanging on to our thought process of elimination of faults with the bike as much as we can. At the most, we can only kid each other bout such moments.So smoke but no cigar.

Everyday Wheels

Everyday I wake and walk my dog. I dress, drink and grab a cloth to wipe the bike down. In the evenings, I wipe both Roadkings down. Used to do that twice a day, once when I pull her out of the parking. I ain't no fool. It takes 15 minutes, but in the time I get to run my hand over almost every working part and look at it. Things like the oil stain on the front fork rods reaching the bottom of the road, these signs are there to see everyday.
Intimacy with machines is something that I feel we guys are lucky to have. Women have reached everywhere, but they are still a long way off from wondering about their clutch slipping in company. The union mechanica is still male bastion, belvedere and refuge. I know, in the past few months, my life has gone to pieces, but I am free to clean both bikes regularly. (Don't get me wrong, I have four bikes). And the bikes have responded. Despite jibes from friends that I'm probably just scraping steel, the chrome having worn off long ago. The morning ride to work would set me right. Any preoccupations with the day ahead would be wiped from my mind. The ride is all encompassing. So much that after I park the bike, it takes about five minutes before my heart stops racing, my breathing slows and I am able to do anything else except blankly glow in the thril of the experience. These are old bikes, take a rough stretch and your front forks will ship enough oil for you to notice the bike sets lower on its springs. The brakes are cloyed in feel and I jump for my brakes twice as earlier than any other biker around me. Still, she is capable of 0-60kph in 4 seconds. That in third, pop fourth and you are ready to cruise the next 400 km at an even, minimalistic drone. That's what you get when you shorten the stroke and widen the piston of the standard Yezdi engine, mated to the classic CLII gearbox. Add two-stroke pep and I am faster than any bike currently sold in India.