A Bike is a Bike and then there is a Bullet.
What is it about bikes (geared and un-geared) that has a connect with us mere mortals? Is it the wild spirit of freedom and independence it gives and a sense of balance on two wheels or just the pure un-adulterated and bohemian joy of riding? During my growing up years like many of you I went through the same gamut of emotions when I got my first cycle during my schooling followed by getting a motorbike during my last year in college which was not an easy task as my late father was hell bent on getting me a scooter thanks to a bunch of underachieving sycophants in his office (that explains the tag line Chunni Munnu Di Papa Di Gaddi) which was very uncle type and and I just couldn’t see myself driving into college in a scooter. Lo I woke up and I rebelled in the way I could –cajoled and sweet talked my mom and sister into making the motorbike the dinner table conversation and getting Dad to change his preference. Yes I did get the motorbike and it was one helluva ride. The bike in question was a Yamaha RX 100 and it was a dream on wheels in all aspects from the engine to the top speed of 120 mph (yes it was a key differentiator).
With time I evolved in more ways than one (facial fuzz turned into 5'0 clock shadow for starters) and my love for motorbikes also underwent a sea change.
The Yamaha gave way to a Bullet and I was spell bound by it. The bike was a connoisseur’s delight- it had old world charm written all around it. It's aristocratic black and gold insignia and thumping engine made my heart skip a beat and marvel on the technical wizardry. It was regal and if the bike could speak –only class would ooze from every nut and bolt. Legend has it that this bike is handcrafted by skilled technicians with love, engineered with purpose and
