The most negelected of all stories Part ITwo and a half months ago I was moving through Northern Pakistan. I was traveling with Dave at the time and we had started to talk about what we wanted to see and do when we got to India. It was at this point I realized my drive to see India was not overpowering. Dave had a flexable itenerary and I thought for a time that maybe I would follow him on bicycle until somthing caught my eye. I didn't want plans, I just wanted somthing to excite me about India and motivate me to really experience the country. At this point in time I had just started to lose momentum for traveling and needed a catalyst for adventure. Then, while treking with dave through a remote goat herding village called Biobar, he made a suggestion, "why don't you buy a motorcycle and ride it around India". My response was immedate and steadfast "I would never ride a motorcycle, let alone own one". The truth was, at the time, the idea of a motorcycle seemed like a complete deathtrap to me and I had heard repeated stories of how dangerous it was to drive in India. I ended the discussion almost annoyed that Dave had even mentioned it. What I wasn't aware of at the time was that Dave had planted a seed within my head.
The idea of a motorcycle briefly immerged and submerged within my mind over the next couple of weeks. Evetually I found myself in Islmasbad awaiting my Indian visa and bored to death. My stay in Islamasbad had become a little bit of a SNAFU with the Indian embassy steeping the visa process in loads of bureaucratic bullshit. While I waisted the days away in at a foreigners campground somthing fascinating happend. In an what seemed like an instant every motorcycle that had been completely invisible to me my entire life somehow snapped into view and I realized for the first time that they were pretty cool. I immediatly tried to supress these "urges" but to no avail. Every motorcycle that passed me caught my eye. All of the sudden it became a battle of will to stop myself from thinking about motorcycles. This brought me to the two wheeled transport section of my Lonley Planet Guide. The small chapter had some usefull information, but most importantly it outlined just how cheap motorcycles were in India. I finally had to submit. I needed a motorcycle and I needed one now. The next 2 weeks were incredably difficult as I waited to cross the Indian/Pakistan border.
Finally, I sold by bicycle in Lahore, bought an ostentatcious leather jacket, and crossed the border into India. The very first city was Amristar in Punjab and I was pratically foaming at the mouth ready to buy a motorcycle. I immediatly started combing the second hand dealerships, first only lookig at Enfields. After I had studied a number of motorcycles I decided that a 350cc Enfield was just a little too much for me, and besides, in motorcycle terms, it guzzled gas. So I eventually decided on a Hero Honda seeing that it was the most common motorcycle in India so parts would be cheap/easy, and my leather jacket already said "Honda" on it in giant letters. Dave, and the French couple I had been traveling with, were kind enough to stay an extra day in Amristar to help me purchase the motorcycle. Dave looked over the bike, test drove it, and made some suggestions. The price was much better than any other motorcycle of the same type I had seen and the dealership looked respectable so I threw into motion a set of events to prepare and buy the motorcycle that very day. The dealer had agreed to change the breaks and a couple other items on the motorcycle if I bought it. While he worked on the repairs I got everything I needed together, and went back to where I had been staying at the Golden Templed to use the internet at a nearby cafe. While I was writting an e-mail I somehow broke into a conversation about my soon to be purchased motorcycle with the manager. After a brief conversation I turned back to my computer and was apprached by a man who had been sitting at a nearby stall listening to teh conversation. His name was Dietmar and he offered to accompany me for my first couple of days on a motorcycle in India because we were heading in the same direction, south. It sounded almost too good to be true, seeing that I had been trying not to think what the first couple of days would be like alone.
After I had finished up my work on the computer I dashed back to the dealership and spent the next hour going through and signing documents. Eventually it was time. Money changed hands, and I found myself walking out to my motorcycle, a Honda Hero CD100SS. The anticipation was so overwhelming at first I almost forgot a couple of big pouints. Firstly, I had never even sat on a motorcycle in my entire life. Secondly, a couple weeks ago Dave had pointed at a stationary and explained how to drive it but no other training had accompanied that single lesson. Thirdly, it was the most important Sihk holiday and the city of Amristar has swelled to huge numbers of people all heading towards the Golden Temple. I had to drive through a huge Indian city that was far more packed than usual to the Golden Temple where I was staying and I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.
The Most Neglected of all Stories Part IIAs I walked out to the motorcycle with the dealer a large crowd had started to form. The dealership was located in a busy section of town and a number of passerby's were stopping to look at the situation that was unfolding. As I appraoched the motorcycle and slid onto it, I was suddenly struck by a moment of clarity. For the last couple of weeks since I had given myself up to owning a motorcycle I had worked hard to delude myself of the actual moment in which I would be riding one. The idea had seemed so rediculous to me from the beggining that I had forced the very idea of actually riding the motorcycle from my mind. Its not that I panicked at this moment, but more that I thought, what the hell am I doing. As some people may, or may not, know about me is that I've taken a number of risks of varying degrees throughout my life (like most people), but somthing that has always been a rule was making sure the odds were in my favor when I did it. Calculated risks include two basic rules. One, plan meticulously, and two, always have a back-up plan. At this moment in time I realized I had neither and I was too deep in to turn around now. I had just put on my completely over-the-top leather jacket in front of a large group of people, and it made me feel a little trapped. I couldn't just get of the motorcycle, take off the jacket, say, "ok, I was just kidding, now could sombody please teach me how to ride this thing". Nobody would have understood anyways. For a moment I began to think about the credibility I could lose with my family and friends doing somthing so stupid, and then I thought to hell with that, how about the credibility I'm losing with myself.
I eventually decided that I was seeding self-doubt in my mind with my current thinking, and the longer I did that, the harder it would be to ride to the Golden Temple. So, convincing myself, I could handle this I started looking over the bike making sure that I knew where everything was. As I did this, it was hard not to notice that the crowd of people surrounding me had ballooned to almost 20. The fact I had an audience was not putting me at ease, and the longer I waited, the larger the crowd grew. So, I decided it was know or never, put on my helmet, slowly rocked the bike off its stand, made sure it was in neutral, turned the key, and put my foot on the kick start lever. I stood up and came down hard on the starter. The engine started flawlessly. Excellent I thought, everything is going according to plan. Then, after motioning the crowd to part, I gave the engine some gas, and as I attempted to engage the clutch stalled the the motorcycle.
The Most Neglected of all Stories Part IIIMy audience paused for a moment trying register the implications of this turn of events. Then people began talking among themselves in Hindi (or Punjabi). I could only imagine at this point that people had started to question my ability to ride a motorcycle and, the smashing reality was, I was more than questioning it myself. I started to think about what it would be like to walk my motorcycle 2 miles through the center of Amristar. It wasn't a pleasant thought. Again I realized I was crippling myself with self-doubt and needed to focus on the task at hand. "Its not like my credentials, or lack thereof, has been found out" I thought, "anyone with an unfamiliar second-hand motorcycle might stall it the first time they tried to ride it". Taking heart in this thought, and not being entirely flustered, I put the motorcycle back in neutral. Then trying as hard as possible not to concentrate on the even larger group of Indians standing around me, I attempted to engage the clutch again. The motorcycle lurched forward violently, in shock I let off the gas and almost stalled the motorcycle again. For a brief period I fumbled with the clutch and gas trying to figure out what I should be doing with them. For the first time in my life I was operating these devices with my hands was terribly confusing. After a small struggle to remember where the breaks were the feel of the motorcycle became somewhat more apparent and I continued of down an abandoned alleyway. The ride wasn't smooth, and every bit of concentration I had was going into remembering how my hands and feet were regulating various aspects of my speed and direction when I reached my first large street.
The next 2 miles through the thickest parts of Amristar were not so bad. This was because I had prepared myself for the absolute worst. I drove looking for cows, dogs, camels, people, scooters, cars, trucks, children, pushcarts, taxis, rickshaws, and anything else capable of some form of locomotion. While, I drove I ran into almost everyone of these obstacles. This made the whole experience safer than I had expected, because neither I, nor the traffic around me, was ever able to exceed 10 kilometers per house (6.4mph). If I had gotten hit, or been hit my some object, the damage would most likely have been laughable. At the time, most people were walking faster than I was riding. This also had a negative effect though. Not being familiar with the motorcycle I stalled no less than 5 times in two miles from having to start and stop so many times. It is arguable though that this was good practice, even though it was a little nerve wracking. Twenty minutes after my purchase I rode into the Golden Temple Parking Lot, completely exhausted and in a pathetic sort of way wrestled with my motorcycle until it was safely parked.
Riding high on my recent success, I went back to the dormitory where I was staying and laid down. That night I met up with Dietmar for dinner, and got a better Idea of whom I would be traveling with for my first couple days on a motorcycle. Everything seemed in place and we agreed to meet early the next morning after breakfast at which time we would head out of the city. Morning came and I was on time to meet Dietmar. We hopped on our motorcycles and agreed I would follow him out of town. This became problematic when I stalled my motorcycle immediately and we got separated. Minutes later by chance, we met up, on continued on our way out of town. And so began my first full day on a motorcycle. Riding with a more experienced rider was a mixed blessing because it provided some good advice early on, but also pushed me to have a much harder/faster pace than I would have chosen during my learning stage. The upside with this is that I learned my limits quickly which turned out to be 60kph, and 250km per day. I was also extremely lucky to have started in Rajistan. The state was mainly composed of desert where I found few cars/trucks, and well maintained roads. By the time we parted ways, after 2 days of riding, I felt very confident of my ability to continue throughout India alone.
Over the coming week I became more and more secure with my motorcycle. Stalling became almost non-existent, and I was immensely enjoying what I got to see on my bike. Everything was going flawlessly until I finally worked my way down into Uttar Perdash, the central state of India. I was lazily plodding along enjoying myself one moment, and then, as I hit my first major road in the new state, I suddenly found myself in a completely different world of driving conditions. Truck traffic increased exponentially until I found myself wedged between huge lines of trucks that drove more reckless than I have ever seen a vehicle drive in my life. This was best exemplified by the huge number of totaled and overturned trucks I saw along the side of the road. I had not been on the riding long in these circumstances when I decided that a different root must be found. Before I had time to act on my decision, I found myself in a terrible situation. An oncoming truck was attempting to overtake another truck about 100 yards in front of me. Assuming the driver just hadn't seen me I honked my horn and flashed my lights. The distance between us was shrinking rapidly, and the trucks now driving side-by-side were not reducing their speed. I immediately began applying the break, but realized that stopping would not be an option. There was nowhere for either of the trucks to go with their girth taking up every inch of the small two lane road. This fact did not seem to be slowing the two vehicles down at all. I realized, looking to my left, that I had only one escape and that it was to drive off the road. One of the major problems with this type of action is that there are almost no paved shoulders in India, and sometimes, if you’re very unlucky, there is only a drop-off. This turned out to be one of those very unlucky times. As I honked and flashed my lights it became very apparent that unless the truck driver was blind, he just didn't care what happened to me. Committing myself to my fate, I tried to slow down as much as I could before, at the last second, I drove off the road. The sides of the roads in this area consisted of steep slopes (about 6 feet down) made entirely of large loose gravel. I had been able to slow my motorcycle to 25kph (about 15mph) but found myself in a battle with descending from the road and trying to keep my motorcycle steady. This ended abruptly when the gravel became too deep, the slope too steep, and my front wheel turned sharply to a 90 degree angle. I only had a split second to register what was happening as my bike slid out from under me.
The Most Neglected of all Stories Part IV While I had become accustomed to “right of way” in India (whoever’s vehicle is bigger has right of way), I had no Idea that people would follow this to the point where they would forgo any attempt of avoiding killing me. This turned out to be a major mistake on my part. As I pressed locals later and learned more about the roads I was repeatedly informed of a startling fact. A high majority of truck, and even bus drivers, in India drink heavily and ingest large amounts of opium while operating their vehicles. Eventually it became clear to me that there were a number of drivers on the road under the influence of multiple substances and that trusting anyone of them to slow down, or move to avoid hitting me, was a poor decision on my part. Of course, as the truck ran me off the road I was unaware of these facts, and had never really imagined that I would find myself in such a position.
By the time the motorcycle fell to the ground, I had stopped all conscious thought. Events were playing out at such a tremendous pace, that I had no time to mull over my next move. The motorcycle had almost completely halted in a fraction of a second due to the front wheels sharp turn. It was then that my momentum carried me over the handlebars. Instinctively, I tucked my shoulder and rolled as I hit the ground until I was back up to a standing position. This entire sequence of actions were initiated and carried out by my subconsciously, and I can therefore take no credit for this minor aerial stunt that saved me from any real injury. Standing and looking back at my motorcycle, there was an explosion of thought that began racing threw my head. I had just fallen off my motorcycle. The worst-case scenario I thought possible, which had repulsed me from the idea of motorcycle ownership for my entire life, had just played out. This was as minor of a fall as I think is possible, but I had so repressed the idea of an event like this when I began riding, that I was in absolute shock to find myself in the position I was in.
I don’t know how long I stood there contemplating all this, but I finally snapped back to reality and looked at my bike that was now lying on the side of the road with the truck driving away as if nothing had happened. This is when I noticed petrol leaking from the gas cap, and had enough presence of mind to run over and right my motorcycle. A nearby road crew had witnessed the accident and at this moment I found myself surrounded by about 12 elated Indian men. I can’t imagine how exciting it was, after having toiled on the road for days, to see, without warning, a foreigner thrown from his bike. Everyone began asking me if I was ok, holding up my motorcycle, brushing dirt off me, all the while smiling furiously. It didn’t take long to convince them I was ok and, and after a careful self-examination, I found that my only injury was a small bruise on my right shin where it had collided with my handlebars. After I was sure that I was ok, I started to look over my bike. Having not rolled, or hit anything stationary, there seemed only to be some very superficial damage, which included my right turn signal, a metal leg guard, and various scratches. By this point the small crowd surrounding me had grown quiet and were watching intently as I surveyed the damage. After a couple of minutes I couldn’t find anything truly out of place on the motorcycle so I looked to the road workers for direction, hoping someone would step forward and tell me what to do next. I quickly realized how silly this was, so I shrugged and got back on my motorcycle. The two-wheeler started flawlessly, and no strange sounds, or rattles were emanating from it. So, trying to put the actual event from my mind I engaged the clutch and rode off to the closest town where a mechanic could look over my bike.
The situation, while unnerving, I believe, was ultimately good. It forced me to be mindful of certain dangers. For the rest of my trip I stayed on smaller side roads, was extremely cautious around trucks/buses, and better prepared for situations involving extremely loose gravel. Everything else on my way south was mundane in comparison to that day. No other state had quite so many pitfalls, and I was more prepared than ever to give up the motorcycle if I found myself in a place where dangerous roads were unavoidable.
