No Plan, No Fear: The Night We Challenged the Road

 

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*Because some stories aren’t about the destination—they’re about the madness that gets you there.*

The Boredom That Sparked an Adventure

Home was about 185 km away from New BEL Road, Bangalore. But back in 2007-2008, this wasn’t a smooth highway cruise.

The Bangalore to Hassan stretch was under heavy construction—still a double road, with dusty diversions, barriers, and chaotic traffic, especially during the holiday season. Add a bit of rain, and what should have been a 3-hour ride easily turned into 4 to 4.5 hours or more.

Did we care? Not at all.

At 7 PM, we kickstarted both the bike and a journey we’d never forget.

Phase 1: Riding on Mileage and Madness

My friend took the first stretch—navigating through holiday traffic, dodging honks, and taking random shortcuts just because we could.

By the time we crossed 80 km, hunger hit, and we stopped at a roadside dhaba near Kunigal. Laughter, hot food, and dust on our faces—it felt perfect.

Now, it was my turn to ride.

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The Twist in the Tale

Barely 2 km ahead, destiny decided to spice things up.

we heard that dreaded sound—PSSSSSSSSHHH

Puncture? Nope. The entire tube burst.

So there we were, at 9 PM, pushing the bike back to Kunigal in the dark, still laughing like fools.

By 10 PM, with a new tube fitted, the sky added more drama—it started to drizzle.

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Phase 2: Powering Through the Rain

Most would’ve called it quits. But not us.

With me at the handlebar, the under-construction Bangalore-Hassan road became our playground. Mud, barriers, zero visibility—and a 110 CC engine giving it everything.

Top Speed: 85-90 km/h
Lighting: Just our headlamp and hope
Background Music: My phone ringing non-stop (Mom worried, Dad chill)

The Final Stretch

Every kilometer tested us. But somehow, it also made us feel invincible.

At exactly 1 AM, drenched and exhausted, we reached home. My parents stood at the door—relieved, annoyed, but mostly just happy we made it.

The scolding? That was postponed till morning.

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What This Ride Taught Us

It wasn’t just a random trip. It became a story we’d tell for years—a story of friendship, recklessness, and the kind of joy only youth can understand.

Moral of the Story

When you’re young, sometimes the best thing you can do is say 'Why not?'

Because long after the roads are repaired and the bike is sold, it’s the crazy rides, the bad decisions, and the good company that stay with you.

Share Your Story!

Have you ever set out on a spontaneous adventure like this? Maybe a late-night ride, an unplanned trip, or a moment where youth and excitement took over logic?

I'd love to hear your stories! Drop them in the comments or connect with me—let’s celebrate those unforgettable journeys together.

A Gentle Caution to Young Adventurers

While these stories make for great memories, always remember—safety comes first.

If you're planning an adventure, no matter how spontaneous, make sure to:
- Inform your parents or family.
- Check your vehicle properly.
- Carry essentials like a phone charger, basic tools, and some cash.
- Stay alert, especially during night rides or bad weather.

Adventure is best when it’s **responsible**. Enjoy the thrill, but ensure you get home safe to tell the tale!

From Grease-Stained Memories to Modern Roars: A Father, A Son, and a JAWA 42

                                                       

From Grease-Stained Memories to Modern                        Roars: A Father, A Son, and a JAWA 42

When you first step into the world on your own—fresh out of college, wide-eyed and full of ambition—there’s a certain fire within you. The early years of your job make you feel invincible. You call it self-confidence. I now know it’s a cousin called overconfidence. You believe every choice you make is right, every word you speak is gospel. It’s the kind of naivety only youth can afford.

I was no different.

Despite my father’s disapproval, I bought a bike that I thought defined me. Years later, that decision turned out to be one of the biggest flops in the Indian bike market between 2007 and 2010. But that's a story for another time.

This blog is about something far more precious — the story of why I chose the JAWA.

👨‍🔧 My Father: The Unsung Maestro of Machines

My father was not just a two-wheeler mechanic. He was an artist with a wrench. We had a humble little shop, and behind it, our small house. From 1985 to 2006, our days began with the scent of petrol and the clanking of spanners.

He specialized in what were then legends on two wheels — the JAWA, YEZDI, Rajdoot, Yamaha RX100 & RX135, Bajaj Chetak, Priya, and Lambretta scooters.

I grew up watching those machines line up in front of our shop like loyal soldiers returning to their commander.

Between 1992 and 1996, before the Yezdi factory in Mysore shut down, these bikes were more than just vehicles. They were pride. Owning a JAWA or Roadking meant you were someone. My father? He was the doctor everyone trusted with their prized rides.

He was respected, admired, and loved — not just for what he fixed, but for how he did it. With patience. With pride. With heart.

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🏍 The Slow Fade… and the Silent Hope

With the rise of Hero Honda’s fuel-efficient 4-stroke models, these rugged legends began to disappear. Slowly, the symphony of their roaring engines faded. By the 2000s, only a few die-hard fans brought their JAWAs and YEZDIs to our shop.

But my father never lost hope.

He’d often say, "These bikes will roar again. Their story isn't over."

Even after we had to shut the workshop due to his health, we held on to two YEZDI chassis and one Rajdoot engine. He didn’t see them as scrap. To him, they were memories, stories, and perhaps, a dream waiting to be reborn.

After he passed, parting with those frames was like giving away a piece of him.

🛣 A Bumpy Ride, and a Familiar Roar

The years that followed his absence weren’t easy. We faced more storms than sunshine. But time has a strange way of circling back.

A few years ago, whispers of a JAWA comeback started floating around. Every time I read something online, my heart would race — as if my father’s dream was inching closer to reality.

When I heard that Mahindra had revived the Classic Legends brand and was planning to reintroduce JAWA, it felt like a personal win. Not just for me—but for that grease-covered man in a humble shop who believed these bikes had more to give.

And then came the JAWA 42 — a fusion of retro soul and modern spirit.

⚙️ The JAWA 42: Riding Through Time

The bike I own is JAWA 42. It’s not just a machine. It’s an emotion. A tribute.

·         What I love:

·         ⚡ Speed & Pickup: The torque kicks in early and strong, making city rides thrilling and highways liberating.

·         🕰 Classic Vibe, Modern Soul: Its retro styling draws nostalgia, while the updated engine and features make it road-ready for today.

·         🎨 Design: The matte finish, bar-end mirrors, and sculpted tank catch eyes wherever I go.

·         What could be better:

·         🪑 The Seat: It’s a bit firm for long rides. An aftermarket cushion helps, but it could’ve been more ergonomic.

·         🧍 Posture: The aggressive styling slightly compromises comfort for taller riders.

·         🔧 Service Reach: In smaller towns, finding skilled mechanics or spares may take effort — though it's improving.

📊 Classic vs Modern – The Comparison

A side-by-side look at what once was, and what now is — honoring both ends of the timeline.

🏍️ The Present Roar – My JAWA 42

🕊 Full Circle

I sometimes imagine him, standing by the shop, wiping his hands on a cloth, nodding at my bike and saying, "This one… you got right."

That thought alone is worth every ride, every rupee, every memory.

✍️ What’s Your Story?

Did you ever buy a bike against the odds? Or one that connected you to someone you loved? I’d love to hear your story.

Share your thoughts in the comments. Let’s celebrate not just machines, but the moments and people that make them unforgettable.

Until next time,
Keep the engines warm and the passion alive.
— A Mechanic's Son, A Rider's Heart.