Fond Memories of my first Motor Vehicle - Champ

1987: When I was in my 7th Grade, every day commute to school was in a cycle rickshaw, modified to carry 6 kids and our bags to school. We would compete to sit towards the rear of the rickshaw with a metal rod keeping us from falling down; we could just jump out at a gradient and push the rickshaw. It was fun, but a public transport. I could not get down where I wanted, I could not go the speed I wanted and some one else was actually sweating for me. I dreamt of a personal vehicle at that time - a cycle, only for me! I thought if I could buy a bicycle, all this could be solved.

My elder sister had a ladies' bicycle by then and I always envied her. She never depended on any one to take her places (school, home). I promised to be a good boy and my parents bought me one - an Atlas bicycle. I also had my first mods installed - a softer, spongy seat with extra-suspension, an additional carrier in the front to hold some books. I was delighted. I felt like a free bird.

I always dreamt of driving - I was fascinated by the bus driver; the Ambassador taxi guy, not to mention the train driver (loco-pilot). This was my dream job. I lived all of these dreams riding my bicycle. 

Fast-forward to 1994: I was in my Bachelors. The bicycle still was holding its place. I do not even remember what the trigger was; I do not recall crying for it; my father presented me with my fist motor vehicle - a TVS Champ. This was better than a dream. I felt this will live with me till I die - what else is needed for a human? 

This became my new life. The poor bicycle felt neglected and got rusted. Not that I never drove the bicycle afterwards, it still was the primary means of my commute - it just was not cared. The prime parking spot in the verandah now belonged to the Champ, the bicycle could stay in the  forecourt - in the rain, in the sun. The Champ on the other hand was cleaned every day and covered with a nice big blanket in the covered parking. 

Slowly, the Champ became the primary mode of transport. I just did not have wings, I had turbo boosted wings! I now lived all my driving dreams in the Champ. I even bought special 2T oil and a measuring cylinder to add my own oil to petrol during a refill. This was a strange sight to most in our small town and more often than not, a few curious eyes stared - I was feeling proud. 

As I became more and more confident on this express service, I added accessories - first a leg guard, then a saree guard, then a pocket over the fuel tank. With each addition, my champ became newer and the love started all over again!

I remember the first time I took it out of our town to the district headquarters 30 km away. I had goosebumps. Life could not be any better. 

I got admission in our local university and I planned to move to district headquarters for living independently (with a relative who was also my classmate and as a PG in a relative's house - still was independent for me, who was leaving home and hometown for the first time in life!). The Champ obviously followed me to this new place for local commute. Both my Champ and I felt liberated! We have a big city to roam around, broader roads and new unknown territories. To top this all, once or twice a month ride home (25 km away). As for any student, maintenance budgets for the Champ were diverted to other important necessities like going to movies. The regular oil from the petrol bunk must be good enough. 

Memories started then! There was this one incident when I was driving full throttle (speedometer on the Champ was marked up to 60 kmph). I enjoyed pushing it to limits and loved the sight of speedometer needle hit the maximum needle. As you would expect, this resulted in vibrations all over and the carburettor screw got loose and the float bowl fell down. I stopped, replaced and continued. This was the start of a habit that continued for years to come - Champ suddenly stops losing breath with a thud of float bowl falling down; I just fix it back and ride as if it was as natural as putting on a brake. 

The other very hilarious incident was when me and my room-mate/ relative planned to go out for dinner and realised the headlamp had blown off.  No - no time to get it fixed, no funds available. For about next few months, the pillion held a torch light to show the road for the driver. It never bothered that a few people laughed at us on our face. Only when some one who knows my parents saw us and reported at home that I was forced to allocate budget for a replacement bulb. We still carried the torch light whenever we went out - it just became a habit, as natural as fixing the float bowl. 

The third incident was when the ultra-luxurious suspension became hard and bent (no idea why). Me and my room mate took it to the mechanic who, after a thorough inspection asked us if we were carrying gas cylinders or some heavy stuff. It was embarrassing as the only pillion the Champ has seen at that time was me or my friend.

The last incident was at a movie hall. We just came out of a night show, a high adrenaline Telugu action movie. No idea why we did that, my friend did not start the Champ as it should be - put on the stand and push the pedal down with clutch pressed. If you know Luna (a far more lighter moped), you could start it by sprinting along with it and engaging  the clutch at the threshold speed. He did the same with Champ - just forgot not to raise the accelerator. The Champ flew off; my friend gained momentum along with it and got thrown down to a corner, the Champ went over a few parked bicycles and fell down. This was also the first and only major accident that this beauty had in its lifetime with me. Thankfully, the bicycle owners were not there and we could gain senses and retreat quickly from the scene. 

One scratch to the paint and the love of life became another machine. The Champ became another means of transport; float bowl fixing and torch light remained natural processes to follow just like the brake and accelerator. 

Life moved on; I got my first job in Hyderabad; Champ, left back in Tenali, started to understand and feel the same emotions as the bicycle it replaced. LML Vespa Select ES took its place. But those memories of Champ during student days still are fresh in mind. Stories and incidents gave way to travelogues and experiences, as I became more mature, started treating machines as machines, not as a living beings.

Champ grew up with me - gave me wings, shared memories. It is the time of my life when it arrived into the family that built a special bond with me. Many more motors came along afterwards - but the first is always the best - Champ will always be my Champ. Though rarely, whenever I see a Champ on road, I unconsciously stare at it for a while. I feel it is waving back to me calling me out - remember this old fella?

Pic Credits: Rickshaw-St. John's English Medium School, Tenali); Champ-Internet search