Part of our ride-Indian-bikes-in-India plan had always been to sell them again at the end of the trip. We had read online that other people had done this, and had made sure we were given all the relevant documentation upon buying them. But there wasn’t much info on how exactly it’s done. So we had left ourselves a generous four weeks to do it, even if it meant having to miss the Motorcycle Travel show in Goa. If there is one thing we have learned on our travels so far, it’s that things go seriously wrong if you rush and stress, and you don’t enjoy the journey any longer.
The ride from Agra to Delhi was full of mixed emotions. We were excited that the next part of our travels was in sight and Aidan can’t wait to ride his more powerful Pippa again. But this was our last ride on the little runarounds and this busy road through an ugly, dusty, built up area was unfit as a last memory. We were craving the twisties with awesome views and challengingly fun roads of the mountains. It was tempting to shoot straight past Delhi up into the Himalayas.
Of course reason won the day and we fought our way through chock-a-block Delhi traffic instead and pulled up super tired in Main Bazaar road. The hotel is down some small alleyways with little room for bikes. But the shop owners on Main Bazaar defend the space outside their shops and no one is allowed to park there. Luckily the guys at Koshla Cafe remembered us and kindly watched our bikes pulled up in front of their outside tandoori grill while we unloaded and went to check in.
We’d booked the same hotel we’d stayed at upon arrival. It’s one of the cheapest and has WiFi. When we saw our room, it was much cleaner and nicer than I remembered. Had they improved? Or was I just seeing things with different eyes, now well adjusted to Indian standards?
As we checked in, a Polish couple; Marcin and Izabela, walked in with big grins on their faces, saying hello. They had seen us outside Koshla but had left their purse in a shop and had to run back for that. So they had hoped to catch up for a chat. They too were riding around India on a bike. Two up on a blue Bajaj Avenger, a cruiser style 220cc bike. We agreed to meet up again in the evening.
As we returned to the bikes, shop owners were asking about the bikes and said they would buy them. But that just seems to be an Indian way of showing interest in ‘your cool machine’ as they back out as soon as money is mentioned. Oh well…. we rode off and parked up outside Ramkrishna Ashram Marg station; the only place we knew where we wouldn’t get chased off by defensive shop owners.
Our clothes had taken a beating on the journey. Aidan’s jeans had been disposed of in Kochi. My bike Jeans were well and truly worn through, new holes appearing almost daily. When I took them to one of those little fix-and-alter-your-clothes shops I got a laugh and a “Not Possible!”. (Does anyone wanna sponsor new Kevlar Jeans for us? 🙂 ) My summer bike gloves are on the way out too, but luckily a new pair is awaiting me in Berlin.