They say that if you do something at the start of a new year, the rest of it shall pass by with you doing that one thing repeatedly. Too bad I wasn't rolling in the hay, so to speak, but this blog is about a different sort of riding.
The blokes behind the vintage and classic club of India finally did what was the obvious choice (but remained elusive for ages, beats me) and held the annual Bombay rally last Sunday (which happened to be in January and hence the former paragraph). Now this was a relief to all concerned because having the shindig smack dead in the middle of the Bombay summer is absolutely traumatic for both man and machine. Not convinced? Well, then you probably haven't been in the city during the summer I reckon - your nads will dissolve in pools of filthy sweat and all you can do is look on with absolute horror.
This year's event was sort of dry, with hardly anything noteworthy making it. In terms of numbers, sure, they could have tallied with last year, but one must be prudent to discount the bunch of Harley riders and others who chose to ride in on everything but classic machines.
What the hell were they doing here? I don't have a fucking clue but what I do know was that unlike the years gone by, there were more youngsters to be seen. Some were on their dad's bikes and some were on their own. Others rode in trains, buses and elephants to get there. Oh, by the way, the 'elephants' bit was for those sods who have their heads up their arses and still think we Indians walk if we're poor, ride bullock carts when we're climbing up the social hierarchy and are perched on pachyderms when we've made it in life.
Coming back to what I was talking about, ah, yes, youth at the classic and vintage automobile rallies. People my age and younger are increasingly being drawn into the dark realm of old machinery, and their charm seems to be hypnotising them (or at least I believe so). Which is great because I don't stick out like a fresh thumb any more at these do's. YAY!
And so fucking what if they're riding beat up Jawas or buggered up Yezdis instead of exotic Goldstars and Norton Internationals. So what if the number of RD 350s, most of them who looked good but sounded like soggy farts, over shadowed the other wise overpowering British erotica. It's the spirit that matters and it's all about how sick you get after the classic bug bites you. Just goes to prove that these machines will have loving and doting new owners long after the old ones pass on. Amen!
There was a flip side as well. Like this rich dick who sat on his 2010 Harley, which was on the side stand by the way, and kept revving the tits off the motorcycle. What's absolutely moronic is the fact that there were a bunch of his testicles, read cronies, who kept jumping about around him, cheering him on to blow those connecting rods (and everybody's ear drums) to thy kingdom come. And then there was this guy who plonked his kid onto an idling Vijai Super scooter (which was in drool worthy pristine condition incidentally, in case you were wondering) and the little guy kept wringing the throttle. Everybody seemed thrilled to see a kid act like a monkey in a circus and what's more is that his mom came over and gave him a hug. Now what if that child had managed to put the thing into gear while he was going ballistic on the throttle - I cringe at the thought.
I don't know what the organisers had in mind, but if it were numbers, they got it spot on. But quality, nah. The saving grace was that it was great to see fresh faces instead of the same old bunch of old timers. That said, I think they should actually check the bikes for period correctness though - something that is essential to keeping the reputation of any vintage and classic automobile event. It doesn't need to be shiny, just authentic. Keep it real guys!
