How does a plan to ride to Leh emerge?

Been thinking about how you plan a motorcycle trip to Leh. Well at least for some of us, this is how it works. I have pondered the how and why for a while. What is it? Wanderlust? Machismo? Adventure? A liking for that sore sensation in the buttocks, each cheek crying separately and in unison with the other, for release from the saddle after 8 hours of riding, days at a stretch?

All of that, I guess. Then there’s more. Let’s say, you are in your thirties, single, independent, a bit rudderless, but there is parties and drinking binges on weekends with an ever decreasing pool of single friends and perhaps a comfortable existence and a none too shady career.

You’re master of your own life and time, that is not spent in the office. No real worries, or commitments. Vexed only perhaps by questions of life, the universe and everything. You know…purpose of existence…humanity…and why you still pay homage to the Porcelain God every now and then when it’s been one whiskey too many last night. You knew this would happen, yet you chose to have that last one for the road. But you always do that. Is it then free will or determinism? That sort of thing.

And then..one day, quite suddenly, a feeling comes over you. Sure its been fun. But you are getting older. The twenties went by a tad too quickly. You have spent a decade in a sort of staging area wondering what programme to load, only to realize, “It’s been that freakin' long?”

Sure, you have your beloved books, your downloaded music and movies, which are absolutely awesome and a bar full of your favourite single malts. But, to quote Charlton Heston from True Lies, you feel “so far, Gentleman, none of this is blowing any wind up my skirt”.

So on another day, when a colleague, suggests that you ride along on a trip to Leh, even though you feel the idea is a bit far out, you are forced to consider it. And that is partly because in the 11 years you have owned your Royal Enfield motorcycle, you have wanted to do this trip, but it’s always been sometime in the unforeseeable future. A chimera; elusive and unreal. A bit like that long, cool, woman in a black dress, one night at your regular bar, or that bottle of Macallan 50 you hope to own.

You then call up your buddy, your bro, that one last bastion of bachelorhood, your partner in crime and other things bizarre for the last 10 years and ask, “how about a ride this summer to the mountains like we talked about…mmm…a little farther than Manali…like, Leh, for instance?”. Some seconds later, but just a few seconds, he says, “Sure. Why not?”.

And then that syrupy cool feeling paces through your head, that you are not used to having so much these days. A feeling that says, this is the year. It’s going to happen.

Game on.