Photos by KTM.
It has been a happening few months for me as I have been frequenting the racetrack at regular intervals for some event or another. Even more exciting is the fact that I get to don leathers and race alongside quite a few talented peers from the industry. One such opportunity was the second edition of the KTM Cup, where we media representatives constituted a separate category altogether, with professionals, amateurs, and women riders having separate categories of their own. It was the final round of the championship after going city by city for the regional rounds and picking up the best talent from across the country.
The stage was set at the Kari Motor Speedway in Coimbatore, with orange adorning almost everything the eye could see. There was a palpable tension that could be felt all around, mostly because everyone was competing for the chance to train with Jeremy McWilliams at the KTM Academy of Speed in Austria, not to mention the glory that comes with winning. It isn’t an opportunity that comes knocking on your door every other day, and only the crème de la crème would get a shot at realising it.
Even so, in between all the competition, there was a strong sense of camaraderie between the riders, giving each other pointers and helping and supporting each other. I guess going elbow to elbow with other people on the track does bring a feeling of brotherhood. McWilliams was there, handing out pearls of wisdom to the promising youngsters. When asked about his thoughts on the talent in India, he said that he was pleasantly surprised at the skill of all these riders in the different categories. He also said that he was looking forward to taking the winners to Austria and helping nurture their talents further.
I reached the track on the second day of the event because I already had my race license, and the first day was the training day for the rookies to apply for their licenses. It would have been good to have that extra time on the tarmac, though, because no track time is ever wasted. From the conversations I had with the others, it had rained profusely the previous day, and they got to experience a wet track. It sounded fun, and since the sky did look overcast, I thought I would get a shot at some wet action too. Fortunately (or unfortunately), the sun soon emerged from its covers, and we made hay while it shone.
As the practice rounds started, we were sharing bikes across the four different categories, and with my luck, the rider who went out on track before me had a crash. As soon as they came into the pits, the support crew worked at lightning speed to get the bike back to full rideability. The pit lane was opened, and I was given the green light to go ahead. I set out with the objective of getting a read on the track and figuring out my lines in the first lap, after which I started picking up the pace. The RC 390 mounted with CEAT Sportrads was running great for the most part, but in the third lap, as I was entering the mickey-mouse, my foot went to downshift but found nothing but air. Confused, I looked down for a split second to see that the gear lever had come loose and was now trailing on the tarmac, kicking up sparks. Just wonderful.
I came to a halt beside one of the marshal’s posts and waited for the recovery vehicle to come to pick me up while I helplessly watched everyone else complete their practice. In the pits, I was told that the culprit was a sheared-off bolt that was required to hold the lever in place. Well, there was no use crying over spilled milk; I had to focus on qualifying. When the time came, I was sent back out on the track, and I managed to put in a respectable time of 1:31.251, putting me in P9 on the starting grid for the final race. The battle to climb the order the following day should be fun.
The day of reckoning was upon us. This would be my shot at redemption, for glory, bragging rights, and, of course, another trophy on the shelf. We suited up, checked our bikes, and lined up in the pits. As soon as the pit lane opened, we went out in as orderly a fashion as possible and lined up on the starting grid according to our respective positions. If I was to have any hope of getting even a toe on the podium, I had to make my move within the first lap. The lights went out and off we went racing! It was a good start, and I had managed to make a decent move up the order. We were in the third lap when two of my fellow riders crashed into each other right in front of me. A quick tap on the brakes, and I managed to change my lines so as not to end up in a pileup. The crash looked bad, but that’s just racing, where even the slightest miscalculation could cost you dearly.
I carried on and managed to close the gap between myself and the rider in front of me, but alas, as I approached C14, I felt a shudder on the front end, and before I knew it, I had low-sided and spun out. I quickly got off the track and saw the other riders zoom past. ‘There goes my shot at the podium,’ I thought, and just on cue, I saw the red flags going up. The race had been brought to a premature end on account of the previous crash so that the ambulance could be sent out. I picked up my bike and headed for the pits, knowing well enough that I would be back soon. You can’t stay down after a fall. You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and do it all again, be it on the track or in life; it’s just something you’ve got to do.
