Our History
I was born in a small town called Coochbehar. It was a huge joint family of my mom’s side that welcomed me with open arms. One of the members of that huge family who happens to be my uncle got a motorcycle to celebrate a new addition to their family a few days later. Now that I look back he must have been a automotive enthusiast and crazy to celebrate the way he did.
I started growing up looking at that bike. All I used to think was that she looks beautiful in that scarlett colour. I still didn’t know the importance of the bike. My uncle used to recall that while growing up I used to mumble something about “Yam Yam” whenever I was near that bike. Now that the things are clearer in my head I know why I used to do what I do. As there was a big YAMAHA written on the tank, and I might have just started reading alphabets, that’s how I used to call the bike.
With time passing by, I moved out of Coochbehar, settled in different cities and every year I used to travel to Coochbehar in my summer holidays to enjoy with my Grandfather & Uncle who used to be an automotive enthusiast just like me. To be fair and honest he is the reason I started to ride and drive and I hope to keep doing that till the end of time for me.
I remeber visiting Coochbehar during my 4th Grade and that year, my uncle asked me to go with him for a ride to a nearby market. Just like a kid with a candy, I was just happy to be on the bike with him and feel the wonderful air that used to hit on my face and the smell of the gas burning through the 2-stroke machine. Oh! Did I forget to mention about the sound that she howled from the exhaust. It was just magical. So, getting back to that ride, I really don’t remember what happended but while coming back there was a patch of oil on the road and my uncle might have missed it and he skid. We both fell, He quickly came to check on me. I had a few bruises here and there but what I’ll always remember from that incident is the wind hitting my face and nothing else to think about and being in that moment. After reaching home, I remember telling my uncle that the bike is hurt and I believe that I might have been looking at cars and bikes as human beings more than machines. That’s the day I realized how much I love being with a motorcycle near me.
A couple more years passed, I grew in vertical size and I believed now I could really ride a motorcycle and it had to be the “Yam Yam”. While on the phone, I used to nag my uncle to teach me to ride and to be honest he always obliged for the same and never hesitated. I was just waiting for my summer vacations to begin so that I can travel to my uncle’s place and have a go at the bike.
Here I was staring at the bike, a lil scared, a lil intimadated and a lot of eagerness to get on the bike and have a go. I asked my uncle how to do it. I knew the kicker and the accelerator but not much of anything else. He sat me down, showed me the clutch, the brake and almost everything of a motorcycle. I used to get irritated back then thinking how many days will these lessons go on about motorcycles without riding one. But now looking back at that experience I believe everyone has to go through it to understand and respect better about these beautiful machines we are going to have one day into the future.
And finally when the D-day came, before getting onto the bike at the field, he told me that always know that brakes are the most important thing in any motor running on wheels. He said -” If you know to respect the brakes, everything else will become natural and a bi-product”. I still remember those lines.
The first kick, the bike never started, the second kick and she came to life with a beautiful roar. Afterall the instruction from uncle about gear and clutch modulation, I really believed I could pull it off in the first attempt and shittt!, How wrong I was. The first attempt, I stalled, second attempt, stalled. I just couldn’t handle it on the first day. I remember getting annoyed and believed that maybe I am not made for this. Then my Uncle came behid gave me a lil push asked me to shift to second and I did move forward without shuddering or stalling the bike. So Officially at 11 years of age, I rode my first bike. The stalling and shuddering continued for a good 3-4 days before finally I got grips with the clutch and the throttle.
The day before I was returning from my Uncle’s place to Bangalore, he took me for a ride in the evening and told me to ride while he was sitting behind and just making me a better rider in traffic I guess. The feeling of he wind hitting you on the face, the freedom, I still relate to it everyday when I am ride to this day.
Years passed by, I am still in awe of the RX-100 sitting at my uncle’s garage who doesn’t ride it anymore. Everytime I visit that place i.e. onece in 2-3 years now, I end up getting my hands dirty with that bike, getting the carburetor to clean up, filling fuel, air and changing oil and filters and having a go at it in the small town. I promised myself that one day I am going to make sure that the “Yam Yam” finds her way onto my garage where I will always care for her as she is always going to be my first bike.
Aawara Nomad 