Choices

If you're lucky, you encounter those rare fleeting moments when life as you know it changes. No longer do you wake up every morning looking at the world through the same rose tinted eyes and chasing the same dreams. Your point of reference while looking at the world in the larger scheme of things has moved overnight and even though you see the same person in the mirror you know that inside you're a different man. For some people, the birth of a child is one such life altering event. When you cradle God's most beautiful creation in your arms, the cranky bosses, omni present EMI's and worries about the future are but a distant memory. Some experience the depths of disillusionment, others the heights of ecstasy, some gut wrenching sorrow and others soul fulfilling peace. To each his own but there are people unfortunate enough to sail through life without experiencing these as yet unnamed moments in life.

A few weeks back I dropped into the Ducati showroom here in Bangalore since a couple of friends (including one who owned a Ducati which justified the visit) were heading there. Now I've always liked Ducatis, there is something about Italians and automobiles (ahem I am a Fiat fan as well) that just seems so right. In fact, money no bar the one bike I would buy without batting an eyelid would be the Aprilia RSV4. Which is also Italian. Back to Ducati though, my first big bike experience was on the Ducati Multistrada 620, an excellent real world bike that you could actually use on a daily basis without having to worry about whether you've covered all your important relatives in your will. But my fascination for Ducati began only when I laid my eyes on the 1198SP in the Ducati showroom.

Sigh!

Now I like to think of myself as not being a shallow man and I am more than acutely aware of the fact that beauty is definitely skin deep. Especially when it comes to automobiles and women. But the 1198SP mercilessly takes all my principles and flings them unceremoniously out the window. It is a work of art. Forget paintings from Indian artists. Buy one of these and park it in your living room instead. It makes me go weak in the knees. It makes me want to examine my bank account and look at EMI options even though I know I cannot afford it. 15 years from now I will still not be able to afford it. Unless I decide to remain a bachelor and live on fruits and cereal and avoid all forms of shopping. It makes me confused. If I ever did manage to save up enough to be able to afford it, would I buy it in black or red? It worries me. Would I ever be able to handle the insane power? It makes me jealous of the people who can afford it. It makes me angry that the people who can afford it will rarely use it. It invokes primal passion. And for that I am grateful.

I re-rechristened my home loan savings account. A few months ago I renamed it the Aprilia RSV4 fund. Then I called it the Ducati 1198SP fund. Sorry Aprilia. Its still a whole million rupees more expensive that the RSV4, which is itself expensive. And it means I'm going to have to choose between buying a flat and a bike. The fact that I'm seriously deciding between the two ensures that the visit to the showroom was one of those special moments in life.

And so life was split into the pre 1198SP and the post 1198SP eras as I dreamt of winning the lottery & marrying the daughter of a stinking rich industrialist. Until I stumbled upon a very special thread on a very busy day. It was one of those I'm so freakin loaded with work that I dont even have time to get off my seat days that seem to dog the best of us. After a couple of hours of typing away at a customer response document that didn't really change the world all that much, I decided to take a 3 minute break and browse a bit. Suddenly I was engrossed in the captivating tale of the resurrection and metamorphosis of an old (1972 to be precise) and dilapidated Royal Enfield Bullet into a gorgeous cafe racer.

Before

The riveting story was set in Chandigarh and the author had thankfully shared a load of pictures which showed the hard work that went into making one beautiful old school charmer. Several years ago I actually considered buying myself a Bullet but I realised I wasn't ready for the constant care and affection that it would require. Demand seems a more appropriate word. And I had actually done quite a bit of research on cafe racers and modifying the potentially incoming Bullet into one but common sense overruled the heart at that point of time.

Now however things are different. Ever since I stumbled upon the thread, Ive been checking different cafe racers and have been searching for the perfect paint combination that is signature Neil. I've been quietly looking up prices of second hand Bullets. So what if the Bullet wont have a pillion seat after it goes under the scalpel? It isn't going to break the bank but I will have to save up for it for a while. Since its a Bullet, its not going to be rushing anywhere in a tearing hurry so I don't have to worry about keeping my limbs intact. It will also bring a smile to my face every time I take her out for a spin. A cafe racer for Sunday morning rides seems to be just the sort of indulgence that would make me a very content man indeed. But I wasn't entirely convinced.

But thank you to the gentleman who shared with the world his story of bringing new life into what would have otherwise turned into a pile of rust. Your laborious and inspiring journey was another of those special moments in my life that has given me hope.

After

I was searching for the perfect way to end this post and a couple of hours after I got done with the rest of the article, an old friend updated his FB status message with the following

"Over the sound of your alarm clock, your television, your cell phone, the mindless chatter of a meeting room, you hear a calling. It starts off as a whisper and then gets too loud to ignore. That's the call of the road. And there's only one way to respond. Royal Enfield."

Looks like I don't have to make that choice anymore. Sorry Ducati.