So much has been said about the joys of motorcycle adventure. Very few things in life, it seems, come close to the thrilling freedom afforded by traveling on two wheels — preferably through the far flung reaches of the universe, and for as long a journey as possible.
But is it the same when you are the pillion, not the pilot?Recently me and my friends planned a weekend trip to the mountains on the bike. We were two bikes with four riders and a car with two. Before we left for the trip, I was asked.. Why would you want to go on a bike as a pillion on a long trip, its not like you are doing anything, instead sitting uncomfortably in the blistering heat with not much scope for movement or added comfort. I brushed it off saying you don't know what you are talking about, its a whole new experience, and I stood by that statement, except somewhere at the back of my head I was left asking my self a few questions ?
Was there a ring of truth to what was being said? Was I eager to ride pillion because its the closest I can come right now to riding my own bike or was there really a thrill ?
I think I can be excused these obnoxious insecurities since I wasn't on the bike at the time. After having completed the trip on two wheels I can tell different. I am not sure I will be able to do justice in explaining the experience of riding pillion, but I could not live with my self if I didn't try.
With a glowing sigh, I reflect back upon this fantastic journey. Total satisfaction overcomes me when I think of the wind in my face on my adventures along winding roads in the company of good friends.
Who would have ever thought that one can experience the complete and ultimate exhilaration and adrenalin rush on a bike as a pillion.
Once on the back we cruise along straight and winding roads feeling the horse power and sheer engine thrust from beneath us. The rhythm of loud pipes, the warmth of my riding partner's heated jacket, the crisp of wind on my face, the brilliant sun on my back, the enchanting view over his shoulder. Every detail is viewed from a completely different perspective.
On a bike you are forced to interact with your surroundings in ways you cant ignore, its not like you can listen to your music, sleep or even turn away from the window like you do in a car. You are constantly interacting with the gushing wind, the trees rushing by and everything around.
Every motion affects the performance and handling of the motorcycle. Pilot and pillion ride together as one with the knowledge that the simplest move of a hand or nod of a head can change the stability of the bike. This fact bonds you to one another in a peculiar and blessed way.
The experience of riding pillion, without facing one another has an uncommon, and quixotic closeness that might never happen in any other situation. Together, pilot and pillion are in the poetic sense inextricably tied on a machine that imparts thrusting, gliding and weaving motions. You are dancing to the rumble of the motor, under the sun and the stars. The motions create a position without conflict, a place natural and unnatural at the same time.
When on a long journey, you are ecstatically happy for the first 40 km or so after which your back and legs start hurting, the sun pierces your skin and you are forced to question your choice. This feeling in my experience never lasts more than 8kms, during which there will be some bump or stop that will reposition you on the bike. And you are back to that indescribable feeling of never wanting the journey to end again.
Sitting on Satyen's 500cc standard RE the three words i would want to use for it are......intuitive, powerful and invincible.................. I seemed to have some kind of unbeatable faith in the bike, no matter how hair raising the bends are or how mindless the traffic is, there is nothing that this bike can't cope with.. absolutely nothing !!
In this trip there were rough patches that didn't allow the girls to be on the bike for safety reasons, we were very promptly packed into the car during this time, and the amount I missed being on the bike at that time took me by surprise. I wanted to get out of that cushiony comfort and get back to the thumping discomfort of the bike. I would always be wondering where we are going? did we take a wrong turn? where are the bikes?
And after what seemed to me like ages when I finally got on the bike again, it occurred to me that on the bike it doesn’t matter where I’m going, whether I will get to where we intended. All that matters is that I’m here, and I’m holding on. Pretty damn tightly.
