You can always make money,
But money does not buy memories
This happened in November 2015, probably the oddest time to ride to Daman.
It had been months since we had stormed off to anywhere, which is where the ride discussion started.
Daman had been in our sights for months, and this seemed a perfect time to zoom off to this lovely Union Territory, and boy what a time we had! While most others would list destinations, and halts, we would like to list out the best and most epic moments of the ride.
Smooth, wide and clear, the NH8 was one amazing experience. We did see a lot of superbikes along the way, and chased them just to hear them sing. The curves, before Charoti, brought back the smile on our faces, which were already covered with a bit of sweat by then. The sun beating down us, our engines roaring, we rode like nothing else, waving at kids and smiling at girls sitting in parked cars in traffic jams
After crossing the world’s biggest toll plaza ( at least according to us), we arrived at the MotiDaman turn, and arrived at a railway crossing. There was some traffic there, and once the crossing was opened, we found probably one of the best, smoothest roads in all our years of riding. Flowing, tight, clean and smooth, these roads were bliss. There was minimal traffic, which added to the joy.
Well, it was hot, and all that riding made us thirsty. So what do you drink when in Daman? When in the day and when on a bike? Sugarcane juice. This was near the circle leading to Nani Daman, where we were supposed to go. What a scene it was at the juice stall, though! All of us, geared up, lined up smartly, getting off our bikes in formation, and the local ladies eying us with pleasure. hehe. After downing about 20 glasses of the heavenly drink, we mounted up and pointed our noses towards our destination.
The Search for Home
It was hot, and when we meant hot, it was really, really hot. So hot that our tyres would have burst if we had parked our steeds in the sun for more than an hour. In that heat, all geared up, we went looking for refuge for the night. After much haggling, we found a decent lodge, with a huge parking lot ( actually an open-air event lawn), scrabbled for the ac switches turned them on and threw off our gear. Boy! Did it feel nice to finally be out of the sun for a while.
The Eventual Party
The rest of our squad was to join us later in the day. Till then, we made sure that the everything was ready. We bought dinner, refreshments ( wink ) and room freshener ( double wink). Let’s just say this. The next day, we woke up at 12. Does that put things into perspective?
Oh yeah, there were the fights and the ” tera bhai hard hai” discussions. But we also did more. We tied all the laces of all shoes kept outside all the rooms on our floor. We did the “ding, dong ditch” to the hotel manager. There were bike sound checks at 3 am in the morning, and the prank calls made to the housekeeping. We had pile ups every 5 minutes, “gaali-raps” and much much more. Whatever our depraved, deranged brains could think of, we did. And then, one by one, we started crashing onto our beds. Like a stack of bowling pins, we fell, only to rise again the next day.
Weekend well spent? Hell yeah! On the way back, we were happy, smiling and although still a bit in awe at the beauty of Daman, our lives were dropping angry texts, asking us to ” come back ASAP”. This ride to Daman will, forever be close to our hearts