Around Xmas 2022, I never thought of cycling. Because I never had one. I had one 40 years ago when I used to commute for work in Bengaluru in the late 1970s.
In less than 100 days, it is a reality. A 7-gear cycle occupies space in my life. Not as a decorative piece but having tasted the macdamized Indian highways from Chennai to Hosur (300km over three days) in end-January-early February this year.
Well, it took quite sometime to get the cycle back home, via Scorpion Logistics. In-transit damage is an inevitable part of logistics. Hence, on its arrival, it needed hospitalization. Not to be forgotten is the missing accessories which were part of the consignment handed over in Bengaluru. Investigation is on.
The good news is my Taliban — ugh, TRIBAN — is ready to roll.
“How about joining the 600km in 36 hours trip next week?” asked Manish Mago, my neighbour and the high-end cycle retailer next door.
Where to? “Haridwar and back,” he responded.
Mago is a darling among cycle enthusiasts in Greater Noida and conducts regular outings with a bunch of pedallers cutting across age and gender.
Given his popularity in this vertical, one cannot escape bumping into and shaking hands with cyclist veterans.
Before I could take delivery, I was closeted with a young (50 years!) Anil Tiwari, an Ultraman — a cyclist-runner-swimmer all rolled into one. Sheer endurance testing game!
There is more to him beyond cycling. Will dwell upon them soon. Bye for now!
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