“I'll buy you only one two-wheeler in my lifetime. You will have to stand on your feet and equip yourself well to buy whatever you want later in your life. So choose wisely, what you want from me today,â said my dad, when at 16 I was pestering him to buy me a two-stroke TVS Scooty. I slept over it and decided to stick to my bicycle and avail his one-time offer to buy a motorcycle when I was 18. When that day dawned, he gladly kept his promise and booked me a Hero Honda CBZ. My fifteen seconds of joy was over though when a pesky cousin made misinformed comments about how lethal the aggressive disc brakes on the CBZ were in comparison to the safer drum brakes on his Splendor. Soon the booking was modified and home came a boring Hero Honda Passion - the first motorcycle I ever owned.
My father isn't a biker, but it did not take him long to understand that I wasn't enjoying that commuter much. It was like a bed of dry-ice to my boiling teenage blood. Ok, I'm exaggerating. But it just wasn't fun enough - especially after I had grown up crashing RXes and riding pillion on VFRs. It was in the early months of 2003 when another cousin of mine and my dad pleasantly conspired against the Passion (that I was starting to like by now) and traded it in for a swanky Karizma. I still remember the day he showed me the booking receipt and asked me to go and finalise the colour I wanted by for first âbig' bike. I was jumping like a kid! I kid you not, I changed five colour choices through two weeks before finally zeroing in on a yellow. Last month, on the 11th of June, my Karizma would be 15 years old. It was the first Karizma in town, but sadly, it isn't around anymore after I totalled it in a road accident.
But what is still alive and kicking is the passion for motorcycles, the nuances of riding and the sheer love of anything that moves on wheels. All of this roots back to my father. He may not be as crazy about automobiles as I am, but everything from the first picture-book on automobiles he bought me when I was three and the uncountable scale models he gifted me through the years, to the motorcycles he funded and the decision he backed when I chose motoring journalism over a fat paycheck from the âIT' world, have played a big role in the life I boast of today. Though these words aren't enough, let me thank you, dad!
Wish you a Happy Father's Day.
Can we buy one more? Please!
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