If you love motorcycles (and even if you don’t), there’s a good chance you’ve got a thing for postcards as well. Got one pinned to a soft board somewhere? Stashed in a book? Tucked neatly into an envelope and stowed away? Or, even if you don’t actually have one, perhaps the memory of a rectangular section of cardstock surfaces from time to time, and you wonder why there can’t be an app to bring it back (there’s your next big social-media platform).
The point is, postcards are a way to express one’s likings, or at least they used to be. People used them to send back messages from their travels, from their homes, and everywhere in between. Postcards travelled, connecting people and individual experiences. One way or another, they’d get a message to any given
place, no matter the distances involved. Some were boring, sure, but others were works of art. If not that, they at least possessed some character that charmed. Sounds a lot like motorcycles, no? And what if a two-wheeler decided to write a
postcard to whoever? I don’t know about one, but here are seven. And even more front sides to look at.
PS. In case you were wondering about that scholarly sounding word in the intro, it’s just the fancy name for the hobby of collecting postcards.
TVS XL 100
To:
Mr Everyman
No. 2, Nopedal Road,
Burden Point,
All States, India
Here I am, in a class of one. At times, I think I’ve had enough, but I see that roughly 50,000 people still want and need me every month, so I decide to go on. I’ve spent most of my time in the hinterlands of India, and every wallet, house and village seems to welcome me with open arms. What’s more, TVS also made me a rather dashing set of clothes a few years ago, but nobody seems to want to see me in them. No, they’d rather have me hauling five times my weight over potholes and rocks, without once even checking if my tyres have enough air in them; pretty far from my two-stroke racing days on tracks, right? I could be so much more… perhaps I’ll bring my grassroots learnings to urban India and see if I can become a cult figure. Should I read Osho? Could a social media agency help me out? Or should I continue my social work instead? Please let me know what you think.
Yours in hopeless determination,
TVS XL 100.
Royal Enfield Bullet 350
To:
Good Ol’ Chap
91, Kickingshire Alley,
Pushroddingham,
Carbswick, England,
Great Britain, U.K.
Hello, mate! How does it go in Dear Old Blighty? I turn 91 this year, but you wouldn’t know it. I mean, they’re still putting on my pinstripes by hand over here! It seems like some sort of traditional denial, but everyone thinks it’s charming, so I suppose it must be. Don’t mind me, I’m just being cheeky, eh? Sure, my new-age innards are a bit like installing a Starbucks in a Victorian-era building, but people don’t see that as a detriment, and I agree. In fact, it’s replacing a tedious charm with a dependable one. However, that also means I don’t get to see my mechanics in every nook and corner of the country. Those were the good old days, indeed. Then again, if nostalgia isn’t what it used
to be, why should I?! And if you’re wondering why it’s not the Continental GT writing to you, it’s because I’m by far the Indian one now, even if that one’s got the ‘handsome London underdog’ thing going on. Cheers!
Yours elegantly,
RE Bullet 350
KTM 390 Duke
To:
Drama Buff
12, Hysteria Street,
Thrillspur Süd,
Exaggerationstraße
Austria
Don’t have much time. Was running low, stopped to tank up. Ever since my heart enlargement surgery last year, I can’t stop running flat out. Come to think of it, that bit hasn’t changed, but somehow it has. And as always, it’s not me but the rider that becomes breathless. Also those who happen to see me. Give Kiska a thank-you slap on their backside from me, will you? I think a Svartpilen 401 just passed by. Gotta go.
KTM 390 Duke
Jawa 42 Bobber
To:
Whoever, Man
#420, Šṗáçëỹ Łǻņȅ,
Dvouletý
Hospodářský Plán,
Czech Republic
Hey… long time… how are you? What am I doing here? I am a Jawa, aren’t I? Also, why am I a bobber? Chill out, bro… I used to worry about these things, but I’ve stopped. Only the vibe matters, man… the vibe… and the flow… Sorry, forgot what I was saying… guess that happens when you always go with the flow. Anyway, it’d be nice to know what I’m supposed to do here… actually, I’d like even more to visit home… ah, Bohemia… I think I’ll head down to Goa… I hear stuff is pretty chilled out down there. Anyway, dudes look at me wherever I go, so life is pretty sorted… it’s all about the vibe and the flow, man… I guess I’ll see how it goes. As our anthem back home goes, ‘Kde domov mu˚j, kde domov mu˚j…’ Kde je domov?
Keep tripping,
Jawa 42 Bobber
Triumph Scrambler 400 X
To:
Neo Rocker
399, Badgemouth,
Little Bhosari,
Greater Hipsterton,
London
Namaste! Surprised? Well, don’t be. My lineage might originate from the UK, but I was born in India. Not quite sure what that makes me. An NRI returnee? Could I even be one? The Bajaj side of my family seems to have spread quite wide, following in the footsteps of Genghis Khan. Apparently, I even have Indo-Austrian and Indo-Swedish cousins, besides the regular Indo ones. All I can do is hold on to the Union Jack for dear life and keep my sump guard away from the hard stuff. But please don’t think my knuckles are white just yet; it’s just the first-time jitters from being in a new place. And if you think I’m concerned, spare a thought for my little brother, Speed. For some reason, he’s locked himself in his room since I arrived. Any word from Mr Bloor? Has he been asking after us at all?
Cheers,
Triumph Scrambler 400 X
Yamaha Aerox 155
To:
Kando House,
Oshi Twah Appen Michi,
Iwata, Shizukoa,
Japan
Konnichiwa, Enginia-san,
How have you been? My experience in India has been a fascinating one. When I arrived in this strange land, the laughter around me used to be awkward. But now, it is firmly enthusiastic. Like sashimi, I am not for everyone, I am aware of that. But everyone seems to want me. Apologies for my arrogance! It must be all the attention I’m getting here. People can’t seem to understand if I’m a motorcycle or a scooter, and they still want me. Is it such a bad thing to be wanted? And why should I be apologetic about it? I haven’t forgotten where I came from, but I’m done bowing down to anyone. And I’m going to teach some
motorcycles a thing or two as well. And that awkward laughter I mentioned? It wasn’t Indian but Japanese. You read that right. So long, Enginia-san.
Yours sportingly,
Yamaha Aerox 155
Aprilia RS 457
To:
Aces Clipone
190, Via Racera,
Strada Veloce,
Noale, Italy
Ciao a tutti! You should see what they do to pizza and spaghetti down here. Dio mio! Anyway, they’re making me near some city known for sugarcane or something. But I just want to get out as soon as possible and go as fast as possible. Now, if only they could make me fast enough as well! I heard both our MotoGP factory riders quit? That’s too sad, though the new guys may well be the fastest-ever pairing in our history, right? And I heard that the FIM Supersport 300 World Championship has announced new rules for 2026. That wouldn’t have anything to do with me, would it? I don’t know about you over there in Italy, but here near Pune I’m hearing urgent rumours of those Austrians restarting their twin-cylinder project, even if the road version might be at least two years away. Did we actually beat them to it? Anyway, don’t worry about anything. I know what I have to do.
Yours confidently,
Aprilia RS 457
PS. I am writing this in my white nightgown; I don’t really like my drab black day clothes. Could you nudge them into getting me something flashy and Italian? Arrivederci!
