getting bored.pissing cats and dogs in delhi.But,I did do some smart spending.I bought me a brand new pirelli scorpion MT tyre for the bike.Rear wheel,110/90/18.Soft rubber.The rolling frame is ready.flat black paint(i know it's ghetto,but cool in an 80's kinda way) with one russian federation star on either side of the gas tank.Now,to figure out exhaust pipes.I did see some cheap DG pipes on ebay and am kinda hoping I can get something like them.Ron refuses to do pipes for now(read,eternity).So,I'm going to have to resort to something else.I've got 2 crates of motul 800,2 liters of motomix and about 7k for gas money.I'm pretty much set for 2 months of riding.
I'll be taking it easy on the bike for about 2 days or so,running her in on ring road.lots of flyovers and sweeping turns.I'm still trying to decide if i need to throw high test fuel into her or not.I'll avoid detonation for sure,but considering she's going to be breathing with 28 mm mik flatslides with powerjets,bigger reeds and uni filters,I'm worried about how much ignition advance she'll be willing to take.i'm hoping all she will do is offer a fouled plug in protest,considering how foulmouthed she was.
the wait is torture,but,as the old saw goes,everything good comes with time.On that note,I say goodnight to my loving readers and hello to my alprax.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Depression days.
Well,it's been a long time.Commitments at work,including bizzare work hours and keeping up with the parents during the day has started taking it's toll.I'm grouchier,nastier and generally spend my waking hours in a foul-bordering-on-pissed-off mood.
2 weeks ago,I celebrated my 28th birthday.Total downer.No girlfriend,no bike,quit booze(long story) ,almost turned vegan(I though it had something to do with Las Vegas,but we'll get to that) ,friends were at work and to make things funnier,I was wide awake with nothing to do.
When a person tries quantifying what he/she has achieved at the grand age of 28 on said individual's birthday,it generally leads to disaster which could cause bouts of depression resulting in temporary insanity.
It's going to be a year and a half of no bike.I'm driving a new Wagon R(nicknamed the Nerdmobile) by me and I've started hating it.It's a nice,quiet,comfortable and boring car.Nothing like the old souped up 800 of yore,which used to run a blatty exhaust,free flow filter,dropped head and body panels which would be hanging on by some unknown law of physics.It was crude,loud,agile and a complete hoot to drive.I had many happy memories in that car.First necking session.First speeding ticket at 138 kph in front of a hospital.First major accident in which the floor got ripped open.Blasting down the road in front of the lotus temple at 2 am with the rear end fishtailing around corners.Pitching it wide and barelling up a dirt road sideways,like Tony Pond in one of the great lakes rallies.
Sigh...all the fun thingsI used to do have been away from me for so long,that I'm beginning to get worried if I'll ever be able to do crazy ass shit again.Maybe it's a sign of aging.I'm definitely crabbier and I keep on lusting after things I'm not supposed to do for all practical purposes.Like get piss drunk and drive down to Rishikesh to get high on some good hash.Then stop by a sugarcane farm and buy a kilo of fresh,hot jaggery and eat that on the way back home.Like listening to metallica at earsplitting volume while gargling with beer and cigar smoke,trying to sound like Hetfield.Or that one night of unlimited drinking resulting in me waking up in bed with the office whore with "Stud muffin" written on my chest in red lipstick.
You know.Crazy,fun shit with not an iota of thought spent on the possible consequences.
That's when I start thinking,the Rd will come back and chaos will rule again.Girls will start calling .Dope will show up in the mail.Alcohol will be administered by IV,the Rishikesh cops will start calling home.The Doon sugarcane farmers will rejoice.The mind will be at peace for it will be too tired to think.Brain dead riding for the last 300 kms.The word "smashed" will take on a much more peaceful meaning.
Ron,I hope your reading this,becuase I need my bike.Bad.Just like that fucked up offspring song.
2 weeks ago,I celebrated my 28th birthday.Total downer.No girlfriend,no bike,quit booze(long story) ,almost turned vegan(I though it had something to do with Las Vegas,but we'll get to that) ,friends were at work and to make things funnier,I was wide awake with nothing to do.
When a person tries quantifying what he/she has achieved at the grand age of 28 on said individual's birthday,it generally leads to disaster which could cause bouts of depression resulting in temporary insanity.
It's going to be a year and a half of no bike.I'm driving a new Wagon R(nicknamed the Nerdmobile) by me and I've started hating it.It's a nice,quiet,comfortable and boring car.Nothing like the old souped up 800 of yore,which used to run a blatty exhaust,free flow filter,dropped head and body panels which would be hanging on by some unknown law of physics.It was crude,loud,agile and a complete hoot to drive.I had many happy memories in that car.First necking session.First speeding ticket at 138 kph in front of a hospital.First major accident in which the floor got ripped open.Blasting down the road in front of the lotus temple at 2 am with the rear end fishtailing around corners.Pitching it wide and barelling up a dirt road sideways,like Tony Pond in one of the great lakes rallies.
Sigh...all the fun thingsI used to do have been away from me for so long,that I'm beginning to get worried if I'll ever be able to do crazy ass shit again.Maybe it's a sign of aging.I'm definitely crabbier and I keep on lusting after things I'm not supposed to do for all practical purposes.Like get piss drunk and drive down to Rishikesh to get high on some good hash.Then stop by a sugarcane farm and buy a kilo of fresh,hot jaggery and eat that on the way back home.Like listening to metallica at earsplitting volume while gargling with beer and cigar smoke,trying to sound like Hetfield.Or that one night of unlimited drinking resulting in me waking up in bed with the office whore with "Stud muffin" written on my chest in red lipstick.
You know.Crazy,fun shit with not an iota of thought spent on the possible consequences.
That's when I start thinking,the Rd will come back and chaos will rule again.Girls will start calling .Dope will show up in the mail.Alcohol will be administered by IV,the Rishikesh cops will start calling home.The Doon sugarcane farmers will rejoice.The mind will be at peace for it will be too tired to think.Brain dead riding for the last 300 kms.The word "smashed" will take on a much more peaceful meaning.
Ron,I hope your reading this,becuase I need my bike.Bad.Just like that fucked up offspring song.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Still going on!
Phew,It's been a hectic few months,what with the recession and the other palaver.My rolling frame is ready,will be adding pics shortly.Now to score some rearsets, tyres and a seat and I should be pretty much set.
I got an interesting call from Ron today.Mostly filled with invective and something about thermocol beads running around the house and landing in his fishtank,the neighbours' house and infiltrating his living room and something about rooting around in a bucket for carb parts.
I managed not to laugh,but had to give in because my lungs were about to explode.
It was just too funny for words.To make matters interesting,he kept on ranting about having little balls all over the place.
The fact of the matter is that I prefer packaging delicate parts in thermocol beads from my deflated bean bag.If that thing can cushion my butt,why can't it cushion a few parts?
Using this deadly logic,I forgot to warn him the first time I sent my bike's crank to him.
Result:complete pandemonium when the crank was fished out.Except this time the fishtank wasn't setup.It led to a few laughs initially,with Ron getting his maid to clean up and the Mrs looking on with a benevolent(if slightly irritated) eye.
When the second package was opened,old Ron didn't have any warnings then as well.Except this time it was opened up outside with a mild breeze and I had taken the liberty of compressing it a little this time.
Result:One invective filled phone call that left me holding onto my ribs for the better part of the day.
You haven't truly lived until you've sent the old man a parcel packaged like that.
I got an interesting call from Ron today.Mostly filled with invective and something about thermocol beads running around the house and landing in his fishtank,the neighbours' house and infiltrating his living room and something about rooting around in a bucket for carb parts.
I managed not to laugh,but had to give in because my lungs were about to explode.
It was just too funny for words.To make matters interesting,he kept on ranting about having little balls all over the place.
The fact of the matter is that I prefer packaging delicate parts in thermocol beads from my deflated bean bag.If that thing can cushion my butt,why can't it cushion a few parts?
Using this deadly logic,I forgot to warn him the first time I sent my bike's crank to him.
Result:complete pandemonium when the crank was fished out.Except this time the fishtank wasn't setup.It led to a few laughs initially,with Ron getting his maid to clean up and the Mrs looking on with a benevolent(if slightly irritated) eye.
When the second package was opened,old Ron didn't have any warnings then as well.Except this time it was opened up outside with a mild breeze and I had taken the liberty of compressing it a little this time.
Result:One invective filled phone call that left me holding onto my ribs for the better part of the day.
You haven't truly lived until you've sent the old man a parcel packaged like that.
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