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2003-04-25 - New Delhi -> Agra (Day 10)

Lalli in his wisdom has suggested that I leave between 6 and 6:30am to go on the first trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal which seems like a suitable place for a first ride. His intention is to get me out of the city before the morning traffic picks up which certainly is wise. However, it takes much longer then I thought to try to repack everything into the side bags, and I end up with more then I can fit in and decide to discard my backpack and the brand new foot pump. In addition breakfast which I tell myself I must eat arrives late and the check out process itself takes more then 40 mins once all the individual chits for breakfast lunch and dinner are added up and triple checked to make sure a Pepsi wasn't missed. I'm not ready to leave till 8:30 and traffic has already started to get pretty strong. Trying to hurry, I get out and prepare to start off and low and behold the bike won't start. I manage to work myself into a sweat trying to get it to work and in all honesty its probably just my unfamiliarity with a bike that takes much more then just the pressing of the "start" button which I've become accustomed to, to get going in the morning. I manage to stall it just over the top of the ramp going down onto the street and of course I have a crowd of early risers quickly gather to watch the foreigner try to get out of this mess. Lovely way to start the day.

I manage to get started down the hill and in all honesty I don't feel the slightest bit comfortable as this was the first time I'd driven a bike loaded like this with 80 kg's of packs, myself and a steering and suspension system that responded like steering a bus. Not a bit comfortable I set out into traffic to see if I have any of those 9 lives left. I did have one thing saving me on this morning and that was the GPS which instantly got my love and respect. To date it had been a toy calculating distance on roads I knew and distance traveled which my odometer did just as well. This morning was a bit different, I had no idea whatsoever where I was going or how to navigate through Delhi which is a mess of turns and traffic to put it mildly. As well with the custom for everyone coming from behind to issue a loud honk and traffic already very heavy while I'm driving an unfamiliar bike which is handling like a bus, the potential for a stressful situation is pretty high. The GPS saved the day though in that I had set it the night before to plot a course from Delhi to Agra and to my absolute amazement it got every turn out of Delhi and onto the "super-express" highway leading South. I simply couldn't believe my luck and the relief of not having to try to stumble through directions and the confusion of finding people to ask, etc. etc, was a godsend. After about 30 min's I'd made it to the edge of Delhi and low and behold the freeway entrance with a sign saying "Agra 200 KM" was there as if waiting for me. I finally get out onto the highway by 9:15 and the day was already starting to heat up and was in the 80's. With the breeze on the first couple of hours were relatively easy and I find the "thump" of the Enfield a pleasant sound and the seat is as comfortable and shock absorbing as I had hoped leading for a reasonably comfortable ride.

The road however and people's driving was as bad as everything I'd heard. Filled with a range of vehicles - rickshaws, tuk tuk's, trucks, motorcycles, ox carts and cows, its hard to believe this road is called a "super expressway". Traffic was moving along at 40 km / hour and one constantly had to be on the alert for any of the above making instant lane changes, simply going through intersections apparently assuming god or the gods would assist oncoming traffic in applying the breaks. While Taiwan is tough, the randomness of Indian driving is a trial unmated by roads in any other country I've been in.

By 11am I'm starting to feel this isn't fun anymore in that its well into the 90's. The tank has become too hot to touch and I'm parched. Fortunately the road is dotted with Pepsi stands at least one every 1/4 km and I make any number of stops to take a Pepsi or water to try to keep hydrated. By 12 its getting hot to the point that I'm starting to get miserable and I pull into one of the roadside "truck stops" which is basically a food stand with a driveway for the trucks to pull off. What is wonderful is there are several cots laid out under the trees and I lay down to try to stretch my muscles off and cool off. While the food is probably good, I can't get myself to try it as I seem to have no appetite since arriving and I'm eating only once or twice a day. I make do with drinks and try to let my hands which are tingly from the vibration to quit their shacking. However, I'm soon driven off from the annoying flies which no matter what I do won't leave me alone and I tire of constantly swatting them.

I ride on and come into an area of extremely parched farmland. Everything is in desert colors and there is almost no green to be seen. The road traffic has thinned out enough that the driving itself has become much less stressful but the heat is overpowering and even the 50 km/hr wind on me seems like the heat from an oven. I manage another two hours before becoming so miserable that I feel I must stop. There had been an advertisements for the one and only McDonald's in the area for the past 60 km and that seemed like the perfect place for my attitude. I knew it would be air-conditioned and the food would be close to what I was used to and those two things were a godsend at the time. Pete had joked that I might want to get used to getting up at 3-4 in the morning and riding from then to avoid the noon heat but still have daylight driving as all the books say its simply suicide to try to ride at night. I didn't think it would really be that bad but by the time I dragged myself into McDonalds I realized he was right - there was no way I'd be able to ride through the Indian Summer on this bike in the daytime. At least not this far South.

Making it up to the counter I try to order a fish meal only to find that I had lost my voice from the dirt and heat. The counter guy taking it in stride offers me a glass of water before taking my order and once my tonsils cooled off a bit, I was able to at least croak out the order. I sit in McDonalds for a good hour cooling off and letting some of the afternoon heat burn away and after that long rest I'm able to face the last 20 km to Agra.

Even this far out on the outskirts the area has become decidedly industrial and the driving starts being a true challenge again. Just a few minutes past the McDonalds I see an Enfield shop and decide to turn in and have them check what I'm sure is something wrong with the front wheel. Driving for all the world like a flat tire, the something seems wrong with the front and I get jitters on every start. While there is clearly air in the tire, something really feels out of whack. I make it into the Enfield dealer and ask them to check it out, they tell me there is nothing wrong... "Good Enfield suspension!"... oh my. :-(

Obviously I'm not in the best mood, in that 200km in this heat is simply too much of a ride. To make it worse, pulling out of the Enfield dealer which is back a single lane alley, a guy in a little white Toyota like car comes barreling it. I see him before he makes the turn and give him a long horn blast but he comes anyway blocking and easy way out. The bike you remember has the aluminum and iron saddlebags on the side making the bike about 1/2 the width of a car and this alley wasn't going to allow both of us to pass side by side without some protest. I stop the bike and motion for him to back up out of the alley so I can pass. He tells me to go to the side. I shake my head in refusal and this guy comes barreling out of the car screaming at me. Lovely situation. This is too big a bike to simply hope off of and my legs are too stiff to even try, not to mention being hot and bothered to begin with. To make it even more fun, my voice hasn't returned much and I can barely croak out "your driving!" in response to his, "what the hell is wrong with you!". Agh, this is not what I need today. Anyway, he's obviously not the kind of guy to back up 5 feet so I can pass and demands I go to the side which happens to be a bride over a ditch out to the street. Believing its futile to argue with this twit I try to pull to the side as much as possible but with the saddle bags on there really isn't enough room for the car to get by. This guy just won't stop though and he comes on through putting a lovely black gash from the iron bag holders into his door and pushing the bike just to the edge of the ditch. Lovely, my trip ends on its first day by the bike falling over on top of me in a ditch...well that's how the scenario looks to be going. The bozo makes it by and drives on, gashed door and all and I keep telling myself not to make snap judgments about the whole country as there are drivers like this in every country...but it doesn't bode well.

Another 10 minutes down the road I pass the Red Fort and get my first views of the Taj Mahal. Unfortunately the road is demanding 100% concentration and I don't have any chance to enjoy it. I make it to the neighborhood south of the Taj known for the budget travel places and guys sitting by the side of the road start running out to the center hawking their hotels...lovely now I have to dodge pedestrians who are intentionally aiming right for me as well! Fortunately I see a big sign "Siddhartha Hotel, Recommended by Lonely Planet" and that is enough for me. I'm able to drive the bike right into the courtyard and after finding the rooms are only US$ 3.00 / night I ask one of the boys to carry in the saddle bags and I promptly pass out for the evening.

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