Unshakeable Indeed

E’VE ALL BEEN there… well, almost all. Climbing aboard our parent’s bikes to get a feel of the pilot seat. Although the first bike I got to call my own was the 2001 Kawasaki-Bajaj Caliber, my journey on two wheels, and the brand, began long before that.

I was in primary school when I stood up front on the centre board of a TVS XL50. A two-stroke moped that — I didn’t know then — had a 50-cc tiny little single-cylinder heart and made, what, three horses? Petrol at that time was a figure I don’t even remember. A fill-up of Rs 30 went all month and 30 mils of oil was added into the tank. Just normal life. Until I tried to ride the thing a little later.

My dad had the Kawasaki-Bajaj KB100 RTZ in Platinum Grey and the old-school three-letter-three-number reg plate. I used to sit on the tank and, except for getting my foot down, learned to use the clutch, change gears, and accelerate safely from my perch on the tank, in sixth grade. I was 11 years old then. Before three more years had passed, I’d learned — on the deserted dirt stretch that’s now a main road today — how to get about on the smokey two-stroker.

Although I spent my early college years on a Bajaj Sunny, another 50-cc two-stroke, that stepped in to replace the TVS, thanks to the age of 16 allowing me to get an “MCWOG” licence (Motor Cycle With Out Gear), as it said. It wasn’t until two years later that I was given a new Caliber.

For a then huge sum of Rs 44k or thereabouts, I had the first four-stroke in the family. The reason was simple — the only other option was the Splendor. I chose the Caliber simply because of its 14.4-cc and 0.5hp advantage and its all-down shift (like the KB100). The Caliber, as with its tag-line “The Unshakeable”, served me well and got me comfortable riding longer distances on my own. I’d ridden to college, then my first job, then my second job, which was at Hinjawadi; in those days pretty much a different timezone for me. The one memory that will never fade was the acceleration run on the nearly deserted road from the University to the outskirts. Three-digit speeds were a different thrill then. Now, it’s plain risky and downright idiotic.

Of course, the madness didn’t stop there. “Mods” included a headlamp cowl, some stickers, a fibre lower fairing, and a tyre swap from the new tread pattern from the “Hoodibaba” Caliber 115 that followed. A knobbly rear from Chengshin — still 3.00-18 — was also on for some time in between. Since 2001, I’ve had a hand-made Michael Schumacher replica helmet — yes, I made it. Seems ghastly now — that was with me everywhere.

Four years later, I replaced the Caliber with the then new Royal Enfield Thunderbird and some more followed, which we shall discuss later. I’ve ridden hundreds of bikes since — yes, seriously — but there’s no changing your first own. It’s true. One never forgets.

— Jim Gorde