When I was still in school, well, just as I was finishing with it, I was lucky enough to become the proud owner of a 1942 model BSA 500 cc beast the papers of which included its first registration in the deserts of the middle east and an English Lieutenant who was its first owner. To me it was the quintessential Arab filly. Lovely to look at, hard to control. Fiesty as hell and totally unpredictable. Of course I fell in love with the bike, and in the process, developed a kind of look down on other bikes of lesser proportions or vintage. (I did migrate to a JAWA later and to a Royal Enfield BULLET too, but my fancy for the vintage 500-750 range bikes remained.

Which is why many years later, when I went to my mechanic to address a small problem with my Jawa and spotted a Triumph 650 in his workshop I became worse than a spoilt kid. I went up to Peter Paul, the mechanic and told him that I’d be grateful if I was allowed to ride the bike for a while. Peter thought I meant taking a small spin and readily agreed. Since Peter’s shop was at one end of Tank Bund, I took the bike up the bund and back. And I was besotted.

The bike was an incredible ride. It had the most hypnotic beat and its suspension was to die for. And she had speed, raw speed. The only problem was that now I wanted to ride the bike for a real long distance. SInce it was Saturday and Peter’s shop was going to be shut the next day I had a brainwave.

What if, I asked Peter, I take the bike and use it tomorrow and Peter could repair the bike on Monday. Peter objected and talked of the owner’s ire if I was caught or I damaged the bike in any way.

I on the other hand, accessed every favour that Peter owed to me (and to my friend Saeed who had introduced us) and literally bullied him into agreeing that I could keep the bike for the weekend and I’d try and keep a low city profile.

So the Triumph was mine on a Sunday. My mother was in a great mood and agreed to pack me a picnic lunch and a nice little plan to explore Shamirpet was in place. To make it more interesting I included a girl friend in the ride components. And early morning Sunday, after a hurried breakfast I was set.

I went and fetched the girlfriend and headed out to Shamirpet with the girl cooing in my ear about how this was the sexiest bike she had ever sat on. I preened. And rode on.

While the Sunday traffic was almost non existent, the highway was a plain black ribbon with nary a wrinkle. And we rode, thankfully helmet free and let our hair enjoy the breeze. My collars however couldn’t contain their excitement and flapped so frequently on my ears that my lobes became raw.

In contrast to my BSA which had only spring suspension, this one had shock absorbers and new ones to boot. Instead of two individual seats, mine and the pillion’s, this one had a single, sloped up curve of a seat and the balance was nice and comfy.

The ride was magical, and after a nice lunch on the rocks by the lake, we headed back to town where I proceeded to return the girl to her house and the bike to Peter. I picked up my Jawa as arranged and drove home for an early night.

Just as the last morsel of dinner was consumed, the girl called and said ‘what do you call a victory over a girl who had been resisting your charm for a while now?’

A Triumph, I said as my eyes twinkled into the darkness of sleep. And roared into a dream.