Category: Biker Community

Indian roads throw the worst at you when you least expect it — cows on blind turns, trucks reversing uphill, stray dogs mid-corner. Or an uncle on a scooter riding on the wrong side, one hand on the handlebar, the other holding a toddler. Not just city limits, but highways too.

That’s just Monday.

Keep going and you’ll see:

• Broken-down tractors parked in the fast lane
• Cattle sleeping under a flyover exit
• Water tankers taking blind turns wide like they’re in a Le Mans pit stop
• Wedding bands crossing highways with zero warning
• Cows, yes — but also bulls in rage mode
• Pedestrians deciding your lane is their shortcut
• A JCB without tail lights rolling backwards at dusk
• Random ropes across the road from “functions” happening on the side
• Kids sprinting for a runaway kite

New fear unlocked on a Sunday ride: A truck carrying loose bamboo sticks swaying on a blind left-hander — Final Destination vibes, and your face is front row. You don’t want to be in that movie.

No amount of riding skill matters if you’re entering a situation you can’t see coming.

That’s why visibility is your real speed limit.

In such a world, how fast is too fast isn’t decided by your bike’s capabilities or your skill — it’s decided by what you can see ahead.

1. Visibility Is Your Real Speed Limit

We’re conditioned to think the speed limit is what the signboard says or what the road “feels like it can handle.” That’s wrong.
The real speed limit is how far ahead you can see and react. If you’re riding faster than what your eyes and brain can process in case of an emergency, you’re gambling with your life.

• Blind turns? Back off.
  If you can’t see around the corner, you have no idea what’s waiting. Drop speed, stay wide on entry, and trail brake if needed.
• Night riding? Double caution.
  Your headlight range is your stopping distance. Anything beyond it is unknown. Ride slower than you think you should.

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2. You Suck at Judging Speed & Stopping Distance

Humans are terrible at estimating how long it takes to stop a bike from 100 km/h. Let’s face it — you look at the speedo, but your brain doesn’t compute what 40m of stopping distance really means until you’ve overshot something.

Here’s what can help:

• Practice emergency braking.
  Do it on a safe, empty stretch. Get a feel for how long it really takes to stop from 60, 80, 100. Your brain learns only by doing.
• Ride like you’re preparing to stop — not blast through.
  Ask yourself, If something jumps out now, can I stop in time?

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3. Twisties & Slopes? Low Gear, High Control

Twisties in India are double trouble — tight turns + the unexpected (broken roads, oil spills, buses on your lane). Here’s what works:

• Low gear, high RPM.
  This gives you engine braking, quicker throttle response, and control. You feel the bike, and it responds cleanly. You’re not coasting. You’re riding.
• Use engine braking actively.
  Don’t just rely on your brakes. Downshift and brake before the corner, and you’ll feel planted and composed.
• If the bike feels loose, you’re not in control.
  If your line feels off, the front pushes wide, or the rear starts losing grip — you’re either coasting, in too high a gear, or riding beyond your skill.

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4. You Control the Bike. Not the Other Way Round.

When you’re tense, reacting late, or relying too much on the brakes, the bike starts feeling like a wild horse. Fix it.

• Stay calm, eyes up, and predict.
  Don’t ride target fixated. Look ahead, read traffic, anticipate bad behavior.
• Ride your own ride.
  Just because others are fast doesn’t mean you should be. Ego is a killer. Confidence is built through control, not speed.

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Takeaway:

The safest rider isn’t the slowest — it’s the one who never puts themselves in a position where emergency reaction is their only option.

Visibility is the #1 rule. Ride only as fast as your eyes and brain can read. In India, that might mean crawling around blind corners or slowing on a perfect straight because you can’t see the far end. And that’s not cowardly — it’s survival.

Because one day, silence will replace the symphony.

Once upon a throttle twist, the roads echoed with the music of internal combustion. Pops, bangs, growls—our unofficial national anthem. Soon? It’s eerily quiet. Like a yoga retreat… on mute.

We’re living in the last glorious chapter of the ICE age—and no, not the one with mammoths and sloths (though some of us bikers could use the leather vests). We mean Internal Combustion Engines, the very heartbeat of biking culture. The fire-breathing, fuel-guzzling, heat-blasting machines that made us fall in love with two wheels in the first place.

But alas, the EV plague is upon us. Smooth, silent, torque-rich, and… dare we say it? gay. Not the pride kind. The meme kind. The kind where you accidentally step on something soft and someone whispers, “Oh no… I stepped on an EV.”

There’s no thump, no clack, no soulful misfire to romance. Just… hmmmmm. Like a blender with identity issues.

Let’s not pretend this isn’t emotional. For bikers, machines aren’t just transport. They’re rebellion, therapy, character, and chaos bottled up into a mechanical tantrum. Every gear shift has a memory, every roar a story.

But now, the streets are falling silent.

Biking used to be culture. A tribe. A lifestyle. Now it’s becoming… software.

And yes, maybe one day hydrogen will save us. Or alternate fuels will step up. Maybe some mad genius will keep the ICE heartbeat alive. But until then, let’s enjoy the ICE age while it lasts.

This blog isn’t just nostalgia—it’s a call. If you’re one of those riders who still tears up at the sound of a cold start, if you’re curious about researching hydrogen ICEs or alternate fuels, maybe you’re the reason the roar doesn’t die.

Because when the world turns down the volume, someone has to bring back the noise.

So here’s a far cry into the wind before it turns electric—

To the smell of burnt clutch, the scars from a slipped spanner, the late-night carb tunes, and the brotherhood forged over open hoods.

To the ICEs that roared louder than our worries ever could.
May we never forget what it felt like to ride, not just move.
And if there’s even a flicker of hope left in hydrogen, alternate fuels, or some mad mech wizard out there—

Let’s chase it. Wrench it. Rev it.
Because silence was never our soundtrack.

A Glimmer of Hope?
Maybe, just maybe, it’s not over.

eFuels—synthetic, cleaner, and compatible with our beloved ICEs—are inching toward reality. If they scale, we might just hold the line.

The machines won’t need to die. We won’t need to whisper.
Until then, we ride in hope… and in noise.