Long Post Alert: This is the second guest post from one of our members - Mahidhar
Warangal to Hyderabad on a JAWA – RECW days - 2006
When the whole world disagreed with me, when studies became wars, when teachers became demons, when books became weapons of mass destruction, when booze was not enough; that’s when I needed peace. I searched for it like a nomad and found my Jawa lying in corner of my hostel room (I used to park inside my room) with an emotional face suggesting me that it was also in the same situation; it was neglected and leaking oil like blood. Emotions took over partiality, that’s when I realized we both needed to break free.
It was Friday evening around 5pm when I took my Jawa to the mechanic and got the clutch cover gasket changed to stop bleeding oil and also got the air filter cleaned. My Jawa was breathing fresh air and was ready to take on the world. Next morning, I decided to have a meditation session on Jawa, I mean to have a small ride of around 300km (Up and Down) from Warangal (books) to Hyderabad (no more books).
It was around 8:20am when I went to my friend Ajay’s room and told him about the plan (with the motive of sharing the fuel cost, as I was still living in economy mode) and asked him whether he was interested in coming along with me. I was amazed seeing his enthusiasm and just found out he was as interested in bikes and bike rides as I was. I took out the Jawa from my hostel room and started cleaning the tank and its fenders. As I was wiping its front fender and facing the head light I suddenly felt that she was staring at me with a unique smile as if she knew in advance what my plans were.
At 9:30am, Ajay with his backpack and me with my helmet headed towards my Jawa. As I was walking towards the bike, I prayed to god hoping for the bike to start since the weather was cold. I unlocked the huge godrej lock (neck lock) pushed in the ignition key, turned the fuel cook to reserve and with two compressions and a mild kick it fired, I was truly amazed!!! I thought, maybe it was preparing the whole night to welcome me in the morning in this way, regardless, I was honored. After two quick throttles twists slowly she started settling down in its own thump which was nothing less than Metallica.
We settled, and with an up shift of gear lever (you can also call it as kick lever –patented technology of Jawa) the monster jerked as if someone tinkled her all of sudden and she started rolling living behind two thin and parallel lines of blue smoke like a rocket on fire. As I approached the Main gate of RECW the watchmen were alert all of the sudden because of the exhaust note.
We began cursing at 60km/hr and looking at the Rocky Mountains around me, the greenery of farms was a treat to watch. The most interesting thing to notice here was the lush green cultivating lands end with rocky grey mountains, a rare combo. I could make out that Ajay was struggling for grip as the seat was too small in length for two. We had done around 30km now and time was around 11:10 am, Ajay told me to stop for a tea break. I found one small shack kind of shop were tea and Kallu (Telugu name for toddy) was served. The white bottles tempted us but we were not ready to take risk as we had to ride a long distance. After a refreshing cup of tea, we rolled again. Now I was in a mood to ride fast. I twisted the throttle slowly and with a lazy ease the Jawa picked up and before we could realize it was on steroids, zooming past Pulsars. The handling and the stability was so amazing that it could make all the modern India bikes look like snakes. The front breaks were so sharp and in great shape the same can’t be said for the rear ones though. I got the whole experience of what young Indians riding Jawas in 60s and 70s really felt. Since the road condition was also of 70s my experience was more realistic, well that’s what I call icing on cake.
Now it was 1 pm, and Ajay was feeling hungry. Even I was, but I was lost in the charm of my bike and was really not felling my own stomach’s request. We pulled in to a dabba which had no name but, had most of the curries. We ordered palak panner and dal fry with some rotis. As I noticed the jawa’s exhaust pipes were still smoking like old man smoking cigar slowly, it was even blowing out smoke rings. Made me think how my friends would try to make rings out of ciggy’s smoke and were mostly unsuccessful.
When were around 30km from Hyderabad, all of sudden, the bike started jerking as if it was choking; she turned off, she ran out of gas. I was clue less really; didn’t know what to do now, Ajay gave me an idea to bend her to left, I told him ‘dude, this is not Bajaj Chetak’, he replied ‘just try out man.’ With great difficulty I bent the bike and for the first time experienced how bending this bike can actually build your biceps. I held her for 15 seconds I could feel my biceps stiff and nerves of my forearms having blood rush. She quickly came back to life. After riding about 2km, I found an Indian oil station and asked for five liters of petrol and oil. The guy at the bunk enquired if we still get spares for this bike, this is one question that most often people ask me and I am sick of answering. I told him ‘Yes, but second hand’. While he was fueling the bike, he slowly began running his hand on the head light and the speedometer as if he was experiencing an Italian female sculpture. Ajay told me that I should ride a bit fast from here on. As I picked up my speed, Ajay started recording the ride and the road on his soap box (actually Nokia 6600, that’s what he calls it as).
As I got a first glimpse of so called ‘posh apartments’, I knew that we had arrived. We had to go to Banjara Hills, one of the posh localities in Hyderabad where Ajay’s friend stays. With lot of gear changes we finally reached Banjara Hills. Believe me, the place was treat for sore eyes. I started searching for a Maruthi 800 here because all I could find were Toyota Camry or Mercedes belonging to ever class including A class and a red SL 500 convertible within half an hour. But between all these German, Japanese mob my little Czech beauty was also getting attention of some of the people, it made me proud. Suddenly I hear a real load and roaring sound approaching me from behind. They were two Italian beauties, a black Ducati Monster and a red and silver combo M V Agusta. The whole crowd in front of Hyderabad Central were trying to have glimpse of those super bikes but sudden the Ducati guy who was in his mid 40’s slows down and says ‘good bike man’ and zooms off. I felt happy and jealous of thir bikes and then compromised due to my present economic condition (student you see). Then I told to myself ‘What the hell, I own a legend, I own a Jawa man.’ It’s the bike that always made me proud, always taught me how to gain attention and respect, a legend that always made its own road and it’s the bike that never moved my body, it moved my soul.
Now this Jawa 353 shares her place with my grandfather’s model B along with my CBZ and kinetic Honda in our house in Malleshwaram.
I want to conclude by telling what Ajay said to me once we reached his friend’s house in Hyderabad, ‘Kay bike hai Yaar, kay bike hai.’
Author: Mahidhar M V
Email: mahidhar16@gmail.com
Warangal to Hyderabad on a JAWA – RECW days - 2006
When the whole world disagreed with me, when studies became wars, when teachers became demons, when books became weapons of mass destruction, when booze was not enough; that’s when I needed peace. I searched for it like a nomad and found my Jawa lying in corner of my hostel room (I used to park inside my room) with an emotional face suggesting me that it was also in the same situation; it was neglected and leaking oil like blood. Emotions took over partiality, that’s when I realized we both needed to break free.
It was Friday evening around 5pm when I took my Jawa to the mechanic and got the clutch cover gasket changed to stop bleeding oil and also got the air filter cleaned. My Jawa was breathing fresh air and was ready to take on the world. Next morning, I decided to have a meditation session on Jawa, I mean to have a small ride of around 300km (Up and Down) from Warangal (books) to Hyderabad (no more books).
It was around 8:20am when I went to my friend Ajay’s room and told him about the plan (with the motive of sharing the fuel cost, as I was still living in economy mode) and asked him whether he was interested in coming along with me. I was amazed seeing his enthusiasm and just found out he was as interested in bikes and bike rides as I was. I took out the Jawa from my hostel room and started cleaning the tank and its fenders. As I was wiping its front fender and facing the head light I suddenly felt that she was staring at me with a unique smile as if she knew in advance what my plans were.
At 9:30am, Ajay with his backpack and me with my helmet headed towards my Jawa. As I was walking towards the bike, I prayed to god hoping for the bike to start since the weather was cold. I unlocked the huge godrej lock (neck lock) pushed in the ignition key, turned the fuel cook to reserve and with two compressions and a mild kick it fired, I was truly amazed!!! I thought, maybe it was preparing the whole night to welcome me in the morning in this way, regardless, I was honored. After two quick throttles twists slowly she started settling down in its own thump which was nothing less than Metallica.
We settled, and with an up shift of gear lever (you can also call it as kick lever –patented technology of Jawa) the monster jerked as if someone tinkled her all of sudden and she started rolling living behind two thin and parallel lines of blue smoke like a rocket on fire. As I approached the Main gate of RECW the watchmen were alert all of the sudden because of the exhaust note.
We began cursing at 60km/hr and looking at the Rocky Mountains around me, the greenery of farms was a treat to watch. The most interesting thing to notice here was the lush green cultivating lands end with rocky grey mountains, a rare combo. I could make out that Ajay was struggling for grip as the seat was too small in length for two. We had done around 30km now and time was around 11:10 am, Ajay told me to stop for a tea break. I found one small shack kind of shop were tea and Kallu (Telugu name for toddy) was served. The white bottles tempted us but we were not ready to take risk as we had to ride a long distance. After a refreshing cup of tea, we rolled again. Now I was in a mood to ride fast. I twisted the throttle slowly and with a lazy ease the Jawa picked up and before we could realize it was on steroids, zooming past Pulsars. The handling and the stability was so amazing that it could make all the modern India bikes look like snakes. The front breaks were so sharp and in great shape the same can’t be said for the rear ones though. I got the whole experience of what young Indians riding Jawas in 60s and 70s really felt. Since the road condition was also of 70s my experience was more realistic, well that’s what I call icing on cake.
Now it was 1 pm, and Ajay was feeling hungry. Even I was, but I was lost in the charm of my bike and was really not felling my own stomach’s request. We pulled in to a dabba which had no name but, had most of the curries. We ordered palak panner and dal fry with some rotis. As I noticed the jawa’s exhaust pipes were still smoking like old man smoking cigar slowly, it was even blowing out smoke rings. Made me think how my friends would try to make rings out of ciggy’s smoke and were mostly unsuccessful.
When were around 30km from Hyderabad, all of sudden, the bike started jerking as if it was choking; she turned off, she ran out of gas. I was clue less really; didn’t know what to do now, Ajay gave me an idea to bend her to left, I told him ‘dude, this is not Bajaj Chetak’, he replied ‘just try out man.’ With great difficulty I bent the bike and for the first time experienced how bending this bike can actually build your biceps. I held her for 15 seconds I could feel my biceps stiff and nerves of my forearms having blood rush. She quickly came back to life. After riding about 2km, I found an Indian oil station and asked for five liters of petrol and oil. The guy at the bunk enquired if we still get spares for this bike, this is one question that most often people ask me and I am sick of answering. I told him ‘Yes, but second hand’. While he was fueling the bike, he slowly began running his hand on the head light and the speedometer as if he was experiencing an Italian female sculpture. Ajay told me that I should ride a bit fast from here on. As I picked up my speed, Ajay started recording the ride and the road on his soap box (actually Nokia 6600, that’s what he calls it as).
As I got a first glimpse of so called ‘posh apartments’, I knew that we had arrived. We had to go to Banjara Hills, one of the posh localities in Hyderabad where Ajay’s friend stays. With lot of gear changes we finally reached Banjara Hills. Believe me, the place was treat for sore eyes. I started searching for a Maruthi 800 here because all I could find were Toyota Camry or Mercedes belonging to ever class including A class and a red SL 500 convertible within half an hour. But between all these German, Japanese mob my little Czech beauty was also getting attention of some of the people, it made me proud. Suddenly I hear a real load and roaring sound approaching me from behind. They were two Italian beauties, a black Ducati Monster and a red and silver combo M V Agusta. The whole crowd in front of Hyderabad Central were trying to have glimpse of those super bikes but sudden the Ducati guy who was in his mid 40’s slows down and says ‘good bike man’ and zooms off. I felt happy and jealous of thir bikes and then compromised due to my present economic condition (student you see). Then I told to myself ‘What the hell, I own a legend, I own a Jawa man.’ It’s the bike that always made me proud, always taught me how to gain attention and respect, a legend that always made its own road and it’s the bike that never moved my body, it moved my soul.
Now this Jawa 353 shares her place with my grandfather’s model B along with my CBZ and kinetic Honda in our house in Malleshwaram.
I want to conclude by telling what Ajay said to me once we reached his friend’s house in Hyderabad, ‘Kay bike hai Yaar, kay bike hai.’
Author: Mahidhar M V
Email: mahidhar16@gmail.com
