The power of 350cc beast roaring like an angry bull over the blue asphalt- thats the poetry that some of riders understand and contemplate on silently. In the world criss- crossed by human roads there were always bound to be many stories and tales. And I am one of the contributors to it. Let’s say it’s not a very long odyssey. It’s more of a short haiku that rhythms for those who grab the meaning of joy of the ride.

Date was 2005 29th Dec. Two of us decided to celebrate our new year in Chandigarh. And the ride was to be on Indian two wheel juggernaut – my Bullet. As concerned as they were, our parents reflected on the dangers of such a long ride. As passionate as we were, we insisted. Not to bother you with details of household arguments and counter-arguments, let me just put that, we arranged a set of lies about a booked cab. Reality? Well, you might have guessed it by now . On that evening I and my friend went outside for little roaming and when we came back, my bullet was not with me. It was safely parked at bus stand vehicle parking. Proper excuse was presented to the family-people. A journey was thus finalized, that will lead to something that will come to be known as “Iron Hawks”.

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