y father was very skeptical about me taking the trip as it involved riding approximately 260 kilometres alone on a highway for the first time.
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This was going to be the first solo ride of my life and the longest one as well. I felt increasingly excited as time drew closer to the next morning. I knew I would never forget this ride. The preparation for the ride started the previous day itself when I filled seven litres of petrol en-route to an event called “Maya Bazaar”. My mother, who was my pillion at that time, grinned with me
as I said to the pump attendant “7 litres Power”. She knew I had made up my mind about going on the trip.
My father was very skeptical about me taking the trip as it involved riding approximately 260 kilometres alone on a highway for the first time. He trusts public transportation more than any other mode. He firmly believes that personal transportation must be limited to within the city. I left him with his thoughts. I believe two wheels are all you need to travel anywhere. From a very young age, I had watched moto-vlogging videos, read long ride accounts, and spent my whole life gathering details about touring on a motorbike. I had recently purchased a tank bag which would prove to be the most important accessory that I had bought. So I packed all the necessities into that tank bag and put other things like clothes into a rucksack that would be tied to my seat using bungee cords (not how they were supposed to be used) A funny lesson was coming up.
Anyway, it was around 4 a.m. on Sept 29 when I heard my alarm ring. Muscle memory kicked in, and I almost turned it off and went back to sleep. Suddenly, it hit me-my biggest ride to date was happening today! Instantly forgetting my sleepiness, I sprang into action, quickly going through my morning routine and dressing for the ride. I carried both my bags down and
strapped them onto the rear seat of the motorbike. Since my bike lacks convenient attachment points (or maybe I just need to look more) I struggled to find stable points to secure the hooks to. Let’s just say that it worked- until it did not.
After receiving my parents’ blessings and advice, I stepped outside to find that it had rained rather heavily the previous night. The road was still wet. and the clouds, sure enough, were grey too. It was around 5:30 a.m. now.
I set out quickly, before my parents could use the rain as a reason to stop me. I had to take the outer ring road from Kalyan Nagar to reach Nelamangala. Until Nagasandra, there was barely any traffic, allowing me to reach Ikea, Nagasandra, in exactly 23 minutes from home-a record that I am very proud of. I carried on, and soon it began raining again. From Nelamangala, I would take the NH 48 to Davanagere. The rain gods seemed frustrated, wanting to unleash their full fury upon the roads and travellers alike. I took a pitstop to layer myself and the luggage. After doing so, I set off once more. Five minutes later, I went over some uneven rumble strips and heard something snap. I had not even reached Nelamangala yet. It was pouring rain, and my designated tail bag was missing. I found the bungee cord dangling from the left side of the motorbike.
I quickly made a U-turn, suspecting that the bag had fallen off when I hit the rumble strips. To my surprise, I did not find it there. I backtracked further, still nothing. Then I looked to my right and inspected the road behind me there it was, hanging from the grab rail, resting on the exhaust. I felt both relieved and foolish for not checking the right side earlier. All of this happened while it was pouring rain. I inspected the rain cover on my bag and noticed that the rain cover of the bag had remained in contact with the business end of the exhaust long enough for it to have burnt some of its surface, leaving a tiny hole though it was not going to cause any problems. After securing the bag properly this time, I made a quick U-turn and set off. I hoped this detour did not confuse my parents, with whom I had shared my live location (one of the conditions laid down by them). By now, my trousers, shoes, and gloves were soaked through. I continued on till Nelamangala toll booth where the rain seemed to worsen.
Heavy rains at the Nelamangala Toll
What a weather? Am I right?
Having parked the bike under a shelter, I grabbed a cup of tea. As I drank, many people on their bikes zoomed past in the pouring rain. This instilled confidence in me. It led me to believe that I could ride in the rain too, and so I did. After finishing my tea, I ensured that only the bottom half of my body and my hands would be getting drenched. With this confidence, I set off once again. Visibility ahead was poor and the road had four lanes with a divider. I must admit it was both scary and fun. Huge trucks and buses raced past the puddles, creating impressive sprays of water with their momentum. Many times, I was at the receiving end of this by-product. Sometimes, the water would even come from the opposite direction. Riding in that rain taught me more physics than my school textbook ever did. It created a sense of understanding between the machine and me. And the way the motorbike performed was nothing short of phenomenal. I never expected a Motorbike built to a budget to be so stable and grippy in heavy rain. Of course, the quality of the tarmac played a significant role too. Despite the bike’s confidence-inspiring performance, I chose to stay under 80 kph to be safe, especially on the four-lane highway that occasionally widened to six lanes.
After passing Tumkur, the highway broadened to six lanes. It was still raining heavily, but the wider road helped me regain some of the pace I had lost due to the rain. My initial goal was to complete the ride in five hours, which I more or less managed. The wide roads, heavy downpour, and high speed added to the thrill. It was me against the rain, and my trusty steed simply conquered the wet yet smooth tarmac. I have to admit, the brakes worked exceptionally well despite the wet conditions when needed. After spending quite some time in the rain, I gathered the courage to cruise at 100 kph. The Motorbike complied without any fuss, happily indulging my request.
There I was, en-route to Davanagere on NH 48. As I rode, I noticed the distance left to cover decreasing with every passing minute. I quickly absorbed my surroundings and let the faster cars overtake me. It never occurred to me to make a rest stop, so I did not. After about 50 kilometres, the rain stopped. Everything looked dry.
Soon I passed Chitradurga town and admired the massive rock formations and windmills in the distance. I felt proud of having covered my first continuous 200 km on this motorbike. As I neared Davanagere, I realised my soaked trousers and gloves were making me shiver slightly. I also noticed the Motorbike was consuming a bit more fuel as I consistently cruised at 100 km/h. The seven litres of petrol were running low, but thankfully I was only about 60 km away from Davanagere. I decided to stop for a drink and then refuel the bike. Upon spotting a restaurant near an exit, I pulled over.
Rest Stop before Davanagere
After using the restroom and having a cup of coffee, I updated my parents and friends about my progress. A couple of kilometres later, I found an Indian Oil station and topped up the tank with another two litres. I then resumed the ride and eventually reached Davangere at 10:30. I was staying at a colleague’s house and planned to spend the rest of the day exploring the local attractions which included the famous “Davanagere Benne Dose”.
The famous Davanagere Benne Dose in all its glory
A second dose to do justice to the distance travelled
