My Experiences with Wheels Part I: Bike, Brakes and Nuts

If you see today’s Delhi, the Delhi of the 1970s and 80s would have looked deserted.  But to people who had lived through the 50s and 60s, the 70s and 80s with the new big buses looked menacing.  I grew up in Karol Bagh, a densely trafficked and populated area of Delhi during the 70s and 80s parented by folks who had seen an almost barren Delhi in the 50s and 60s.  One of the fallouts of the scenario was the fear of letting their only son out on a bike in the “bad traffic” of that day.  Not that it was much by today’s standards, but for someone who has seen empty roads, rashly driven DTC buses – mind you, those were the days before the deadly “Bluelines and Redlines” – even that was a lot.  Life is lived in the relative and not in the absolute.  As Lokmanya Tilak has aptly remarked in his lifetime “Revolutionaries of one era are moderates of another”.

So, I could never really get on a bike or was ever bought one.  There was a fear – somewhat genuine and somewhat of our own making – which led to that state.  I would see my friends – of decidedly more daring, and by my logic, uncaring parents – who would bike around the busy streets in complete abandon, a skill I grew to marvel.  It wasn’t easy, although the traffic and congestion was not as menacing as it is today but it was still substantial.  Delhi streets and traffic is quite akin to a Black Body of thermodynamics.  No matter how much heat you add in or take out of them, the heat of the body itself remains unchanged because it is so high.

But there were times when I would dare to learn the art of biking.  One such attempts was randomly executed with a dear friend.  We were in the Pusa Campus.  Me and my friend had gone to meet another friend on the first ones bike.  So, we were talking when suddenly I got this urge to try out the bike in the serene and relatively sparse campus of Pusa Institute.  My friend happily agreed.  So, I mounted his black bike and tried.  I fell down instantly.  But this time I wasn’t to be detered.  So, I mounted again.  And tried a few steps with him running and pushing after me.  Again, I could only make a few feet down the road.  Today, however, was a different day.  I wasn’t going to lose so easily.  So, back I was and tried again.

They say, when you try persistently for anything, then even the Universe and God yields to you.  And so they did.  I was riding fine for quite a few feet.  My face had broken out into a big smile.  Quite suddenly, my expression changed.  The change was very similar to a guy who was merrily rowing down a nice serene stream only to discover that right around the bend was the curve to the Niagara Fall, and there was no way but to flow down now!  I had suddenly seen the little street flow into a ramp down that led to the main road outside the campus, where all those deadly and dreaded buses were prowling.  I WAS TOAST!!

That I had, in my enthusiasm ratcheted the speed of the bike was the first cause of concern, but what was worse was that it was a slope down onto the road, so it was obvious that I could only pick UP speed as opposed to slowing down.  And the killer was that I had YET to ask my friend the function and procedure of the brakes on the bike.  So, I was at top speed, accelerating… with no idea of where the brakes were or how to use them and I was going right into the den of the dreaded killer buses.  Now WHAT?!!

The entire scene was filled with shrieks of my friend.  It took him sometime but he realized my situation and the multiple predicaments I was hit with.  I was certainly going down, and was also taking his bike along with me in an accident!  His shrieks were probably more out of the horror of the latter than former.  At that age, when you have gotten a new bike as a teen-ager, a friend is a great thing, but nothing compares to a bike.  For guys, its foolish to assume your friend will think otherwise.

Once an Insurance Agent was teaching his wife to drive and she got in to a similar predicament and was hurtling down the road to a certain accident.  She shrieked and he shouted to her just in time “Darling, why don’t you hit something cheap?!”.  This was a very recent joke I had read and it was clear in my mind.  It occured to me that if I had to save myself, I had to sacrifice my friend’s bike.  A friend is a great thing, like I said, and his bike is a great boon.  But I was struggling for my life!!  Luckily, I saw a huge rock to the right of me just before the slope broke into the road.  I aimed for it.  And RAMMMED into it.  I flew up into the air and onto the rock.  It hurt but not where you think it would.  My nuts had been crushed on the impact when I lunged forward and hit the handle. And I am not talking about my Head.  Rather the pain was on the opposite side of the body.

The bike.  Well, its handle and the front tire was a big mess.  I couldn’t get up such was the pain in my… well.. you know what.  My friend came running and stood there is utter disbelief at the sight of the horror.  Then he saw me in pain and came over.  Out of uninterested care – or so I thought – he asked me what was wrong.  As I told him, his worried face lit up into a burst of laughter.  To guys, a hit on the nuts is the funniest thing at that age.  He bent down – not in pain – but in uncontrolled laughter.  Bike’s state couldn’t stop that.

After he was done with his rather heartless display of laughter at my obvious pain, he got up to inspect the bike and think of ways to get it home.  Half an hour later, we both were walking down the road to his home with the bike in our hands lifted up from its front wheel.  I had one hand on the bike and the other to hold my pain.  It was one of the longest walks of my life.  My friend’s Mom, thankfully, had a great opinion of me.  She thought that whatever the situation, my friend would have been the person who had messed it up.  I was born flawless in her eyes.  Parents like there of your friends are a great boon in life.  She gave me something to eat and asked me questions to make sure I wasn’t permanently injured or had a more deeper injury than just a hit.  It was decided that all was well and I started on my way back home.

It took me a long time to really learn riding a bike.  In fact, not until I came to the US.  Initially it was tough, but my wife was persistent.  She could easily ride motor bikes and was surprised I couldn’t ride a bike.  Her persistence paid off.  A few years back I got a brand new bike of my own.  This year, as I got a local job recently, I have started a practice – to ride bike to the park with my son.  He has a small bike, which he had his own challenges to learn.  But both of us take our bikes to the large lake near our house to a park next to it.  There are other parks around, but he loves to ride to that place and then play.  I love it too.  Luckily, he knows how to handle his brakes.