Last week, city pages of dailies in Delhi carried the picture of a damaged motorcycle lying prone on a street. 24-year-old Himanshu Bansal, who, according to Delhi Police, was racing with two friends, had swerved to avoid a jaywalker and slammed into a wall after losing control of the bike, which was reportedly doing 150kph at the time. Bansal suffered critical injuries in spite of wearing a helmet, and did not survive the crash that was recorded on a camera mounted on the helmet of one of his fellow bikers. Bansal had bought the motorcycle, his first, a mere nine months back.
The same day, far removed from the chaotic traffic and crowded roads of Delhi, a professional racer — Joi Harris — crashed on the streets of Vancouver, while shooting a stunt for a Hollywood flick and died on the spot. Harris, 40, a professional track racer who routinely competed in the 300cc category, was not a qualified stunt rider, and simply lost control of the 900cc motorcycle she was riding.
The Benelli TNT 600i — known as a mid-segment bike — isn’t quite in the same league as the bike that Harris was riding when it comes to performance. But that’s relative: when I reviewed this 85 bhp motorcycle on the Yamuna Expressway, it went from standstill to 100 kph in just over five seconds. Now, I took the bike to the emptiest stretch of the widest expressway in north India to push it hard, and resisted the urge to zip off red lights or within the city. But, that acquired wisdom has come in my late thirties, after at least one big crash in my teens, and ten years of riding big motorcycles, on and off the track. Would I have been as careful in my twenties? Not a chance.
Motorcycling is a dangerous activity. And much more in India than in Europe, or for that matter, even countries like Thailand. Hence, what can a motorcycling enthusiast do to offset the significant odds against him? To begin with, don’t start your motorcycling life with a big motorcycle — start with a smaller capacity bike and upgrade to a bigger machine when you’re ready. On the road, I can only humbly proffer the same rules that I follow assiduously.
Don’t ride at night
Don’t do it. Just take the car or public transport. Yes, roads in the cities are emptier, but that makes it all the more dangerous, because the few people on the roads will be speeding and possibly jumping lights. Visibility is much worse and you have no reaction time to spot a dog running across the road, or as Bansal realised when it was too late, a jaywalker. This applies even for highways which are sporadically lit. And you really don’t want to encounter a buffalo sitting on an unlit street at speed. I have, and it’ll put the fear of God into you.
No music or calls
Good for you if you’ve got a great intercom set for the helmet, but please stop on the side of the road in case you need to make or receive a call. Riding a motorcycle demands complete attention. Isn’t that why we do it? Because it’s an intense involved activity. Don’t ponder on your life, drop the existential questions, and never turn up the music — you won’t be able to hear another vehicle honk, and more dangerously, might become complacent. There’s no room for that when you’re balancing on two wheels.
Gear gear gear
Even if you want to go to the market to buy groceries. If you don’t want to wear your helmet, gloves, shoulder and knee pads, back guard and armour, then please walk or take the car. Accidents can happen at any point, anywhere — Bansal had bought safety gear, but wasn’t wearing it in the city. You can only look cool if you’re alive.
Get a reality check
My motorcyclist friends are often perplexed by what they regard as a morbid fascination: watching videos of motorcycle crashes on YouTube — I make it a point to watch at least a couple every day that I’m riding on a big motorcycle. I find these videos hard to watch. But I do so because I feel the need to remind myself of what can happen, literally in a split second on a motorcycle. You don’t get a second chance on a motorcycle.
