Types of animals

Being a biker requires one to be well read, well-mannered and supremely knowledgeable. In this respect, I am happy with most of the bikers but there’s one body of knowledge that bikers treat casually and yet it is such critical knowledge. I am talking about knowledge of the various types of animals found in this beautiful world we live in.

You are about to close this page and go elsewhere but I urge you to check your impulsiveness. You think you know all about animals because you have read books and watched David Attenborough, but you are a miserable impostor of knowledge and I shall show this.

There are four kinds of animals: Domestic animals which are found around our homes offering food or labour, pet animals which are also found around our homes offering companionship, wild animals which are found in the wilderness offering balance to the ecosystem and road animals which are found around our roads offering excitement or terror.

Sir David Attenborough has spent a lifetime educating the world all about animals, but has never uttered a single word about road animals. Lucky for you, I am the David Attenborough of road animals and I shall undertake in the next few words to rid you of your ignorance so that you may be a better biker and perhaps even a better human being all round.

My interest in road animals started one sunny day, somewhere near Suswa town, as I was riding towards Narok. Wait. Please do not think that I am not telling the truth because I have begun this with story with the words “one sunny day”. It was indeed a sunny day and I must therefore tell it as it is, even if I have to resort to such hackneyed phrases.

So, one sunny day as I was riding my bike towards Narok, I caught sight of an animal lying on the road. As I got closer I could make out that the animal was a dog. It was a marvellous dog, the best I had ever seen. It appeared healthy, well fed and had a well-developed chest. From the way it lay on its back with its four legs straight in the air, I imagined that it must have had a very good meal over lunch, and it therefore needed to let digestion happen without any encumbrances upon its stomach. I do this myself sometimes so I was able to immediately understand its method.

What a great sight it was to see such a healthy and content dog! As I got closer, I realised that it too knew that it was a happy and content dog because it was smiling. Across the left side of it’s face (some say snout), I could see a perfect set of sharp canines flashing at me in an irrepressible smile. As I got closer and closer, I could see that the smile was still in place, unchanging and this touched me. The sight of this joyous dog was too good to ride past and so I slowed down and opened my helmet’s visor to take a closer look and perhaps exchange pleasantries with it.

What greeted me was not the healthy joyous dog I expected but a badly mutilated corpse (some say carcass) of a dog. The stench from the corpse was at least 500 horsepower strong and I caught it all in the chest, none of it was wasted. What I thought was a smile was in fact a face, whose entire left side was lacking in skin and flesh thereby exposing the teeth and bone underneath.

When you are on a bike, you catch sights and smells in their raw unfiltered format. So, to give my chest a chance to catch some clean air, I squeezed the throttle and accelerated away, to reflect upon the gruesome sight.

As I explained, it was this incident that drew me to the subject of road animals and I resolved to learn all about this class of animals. My diligent studies have literally taken the breath away and are now being described in some quarters as ‘ground breaking’. Take the next few words merely as a synopsis into a wide and complex are of study that is being pioneered with great self-sacrifice by a kind and conscientious man.

I invented the term ‘Road Kill’ to describe animals that are killed by being ran over a road. It could be a dog such as the one in this story or a cat attempting to begin a tenth life, it could also be a zebra or even a lizard – all I describe as road kill.

Maasai Cow is a term used to describe a type of cows, usually found in Nairobi, that nonchalantly cross city roads with incomparable grace and calmness. They interfere with traffic, annoy business people and drop green mud for bike tyres to skid on. Their defining feature is their calmness and nonchalance while being an absolute nuisance.

Huddling Sheep refers to small herds of sheep, usually found in the hotter parts of the country, huddling together to form a shade for their heads, to shield from the hot afternoon sun. They are almost always found around a sharp bend where you are certain to get acquainted with the herd by way of a collision, making road kill of some of them.

Honey Donkey refers to asses, usually found around Naivasha, that cause accidents when they chase each other across the road as part of their mating rituals. Honey Donkeys are magnificent beasts for keeping time and schedule. First, they schedule to mate on the exact day that you shall be riding through Naivasha and secondly, they time their run across the road so accurately that a collision with you is inevitable. Typically, the running ritual begins seconds after the female donkey delivers a devastating double kick on the male donkey’s chin. During my field study, a donkey, through an interpreter, told me that this kick is the equivalent “let’s go to the bedroom” in the Hi-Ho language that most donkeys in Kenya speak.

When my book on road animals is ready I shall send you a link, for now, be content with this synopsis.

Once upon a time

I grew up with a fellow called Reuben that had a remarkable talent: Whenever we wanted to wake up in the wee hours of the morning, and did not have at hand, the legendary Casio Alarm Chrono watch, that we children of the 90s loved very much, all we needed to do was ask Reuben to wake us up at whatever time we desired.

In the seven years I stayed with Reuben, I made hundreds of requests to be woken up, each request was different – 4.30am, 4.13am, 5.56am, 3.20am and Reuben always obliged. He did not have any clock or watch at hand, he just listed to the radio for the time before going to bed and somehow, something in his anatomy kept the time. It’s like he had an inner watchman that was meticulous and punctual.

My inner watchman is not like Reuben’s. He is an unimpressive nervous fellow that worries himself too much and loses count. Whenever I ask him to wake me up at 5.30am and he wakes me with a violent jolt at 2am. I look at my watch puzzled and he suggests that perhaps there is something wrong with it because himself, he is certain it’s 5.30am if not later. He plants enough doubt in my mind, so I get out of bed and go to the sitting room to turn on the laptop to confirm the time. The bloody thing has about 139 updates to configure before turning itself on and revealing the time, so I wait. Finally, I learn that it’s 2.34am and the fellow (my inner watchman), is very sorry for his mistake. I return to bed bad tempered and it takes me another half hour to fall asleep again.

For the next two hours, the fellow wakes me up every 10 minutes and each time he is sure it’s 5.30am. I regret and wish I hadn’t mentioned the thing to him whatsoever! At 5am he goes to sleep himself, worn out by his efforts and I finally manage to catch some sleep. I open my eyes and see some light. My half awakened intelligence doesn’t tell me anything for a few moments and then it suddenly hits me with the knowledge that the meeting has started and that the bird singing like mad outside, is actually the phone beside me ringing. I scramble out of bed, eyes bulging, heart beating violently and I charge about the room madly looking for my clothes. It’s 9am.

I tell you this true story about my inner watchman because I do not trust the fellow whatsoever and tomorrow, I plan on waking up very early to go to the train station to queue for a ticket. I plan to visit Mombasa next week to receive a shipment of bikes that I am very excited about. I mean to use this SGR train thing and I am told that to get a ticket, I need to be at the station very early in the morning and queue with about 5,000 other people. I wonder why the business can’t be done online, or can it? Someone, please tell me.

Anyway, the shipment I shall be receiving has the following bikes in it: The magnificent Bajaj Dominar 400. I believe this is the very first one to be registered in Kenya and I am fiercely proud. The very cool 2017 Bajaj Avenger 200 Street, also a first in Kenya I believe. A pair of very cute Honda Navi scooters, again a first in the country. A triple dose of the irresistible and muscular 2017 Yamaha FZ-25, of course also the first in the country. The very first 2017 Bajaj Pulsar 200NS in the country and finally the regal rogue itself, the 2017 KTM Duke 390, which will not be the first in the country because someone else beat me to it. Confound him!

All these claims to being first are unverified of course, it is simply my instinct that tells me so.

I don’t have a clever nugget of wisdom to conclude this article. Instead I invite you as the biker community in Kenya to come and check out these bikes when they land and to appreciate how far we’ve come as bikers in Kenya. When I bought my first bike on September 15th 2008, a 125cc symbol of humility and poverty, I had almost no choices, but now we live in a world where we can dare make our dreams of owning any bike come true. I shall communicate the date and venue for this celebration so please be on the look out on the various social media pages.

Also, these three bikes do not have owners, so tag a friend that might want one.

Yamaha FZ-25, Blue. Brand new! Ksh. 380,000

 

Yamaha FZ-25. Black. Brand New! Ksh. 370,000.

 

Bajaj Pulsar RS200. Red. 14,000km. Ksh. 330,000

 

 

Petrol stations: Come on! You can do better than that!

I begin by warning that what I am about to narrate is brutal and disgusting in nature and if you have a weak spirit it will ruin you forever. I offer you the opportunity to stop reading this immediately and think yourself lucky to have escaped with your innocence intact.

A couple of months ago, some two gentlemen of my acquaintance convinced me to accompany them on a ride to Masinga Dam. I loved the idea because it was an opportunity for me to see how three bikes I love compare on the road. I was on a Bajaj Pulsar 200NS while the other two were on a Yamaha FZS-FI and a KTM Duke 200. The bike riding and sightseeing was alright, but it was what these two men did to me during a stop we made that defined my day. The two gentlemen are simple unsophisticated Christian men, whose reputation I do not wish to tarnish and I shall therefore not expose their identities by saying that they are called Peter and Danson.

The stop in question was a lunchbreak in a small ramshackle of a town near Masinga Dam called Kanyonyoo Market. I should have taken a hint from the name because it was a pitiable little town and all it could offer was readymade roast meat in a series of horrible looking butcheries that lined the road.

We got into one of the horrible butcheries and the enthusiastic butcher and his assistant led us to a grill that had heaps of roasted meat which to my trained eye, could not possibly be the goat they advertised. The bones were suspiciously too small and I thought it strange that it was on the same grill as intestines and other internal organs which I imagined were meant to mask the actual taste of the meat.

My simple unworldly companions laughed off my feline and canine suggestions and assured me that in Ukambani, people’s tastes were not as diverse. They seemed unperturbed so I reluctantly joined them in the feast.

When we returned to Nairobi, we each went our separate ways home and it was then that it happened. I had been feeling some abdominal discomfort since the suspicious lunch and it seemed things were getting worse. I determined that I would push on until the house but that determination lasted about one hundred meters when my stomach churned very violently and threaten to expel some elements in it there and then.

I grimaced involuntarily and tried to do the same at the opposite end of my anatomy, but my stomach was not having any of it. It had to expel the culprits and it could not wait a minute longer. I slowed the bike and tried all manner of movements on the seat hoping to reverse the looming onslaught but it was getting desperate. As luck would have it, I was riding through a heavily populated area and an emergency fertilization of the land would not be taken with kindness. Tears were welling and I was horrified it would turn into a full-blown trouser accident but I managed to muster some will power to hold because such an accident would mean I would have to remove the trousers before walking into the house and walking into the house with no trousers, I judged, would traumatize my people irreversibly.

Just as I was saying the words “take me Jesus”, a petrol station loomed into sight. I made for the nearest security guard and asked him where the lavatory was. He pointed it out and I rode right up to the door and leapt at the door handle only to find it was locked. Damn it! At this point, the churning in my stomach had turned into a boiling cauldron, especially at the sight of the respite. I tried to steady myself by the door and then let out a crude animal yell, asking the security guard to fetch me the key.

The security guard, whose lineage I was certain includes a tortoise, a chameleon and a sloth finally arrived. I stared at him with eyes that were a combination of pitiable puppy eyes and the bewilderment of a man being lynched, begging him to open the door. To sustain my dignity as he opened the door, I had crossed my legs into a double helix coil and TIG welded all the remaining gaps.

The disciplines of seismology, geology and meteorology, cannot sufficiently describe the thundering and sheer force with which my stomach evacuated. It was a brutal affair but after a minute or so, I regained a feeling of wellness. I was glad to have escaped with my dignity and I thought about the two evil men I had spent the day with and wondered if they too were in a petrol station somewhere or had succumbed in more embarrassing fashion. Whatever the case, I cursed them comprehensively, wishing them and all their all their descendants for all eternity the very worst.

My indignation subsided and as I slowly took in my surroundings, I realized that my ordeal was far from over – there was no means of acceptable sanitation. Why do petrol stations do that? For heaven’s sake, you are required by law to maintain a lavatory and what’s the sense in having one when it doesn’t have the very tools required to make a trip to it a success?

It is a wicked shame for oil marketing companies, some multinational, not to bother maintaining a lavatory and yet profit from the country’s citizens. It’s not that expensive I imagine, unless your petrol station is at Kanyonyoo Market, in which case I can excuse you because I know the whole town will be turning up every afternoon after lunch.

You must be keen to find out how I eventually got out, but I shall spare you the details and save myself extra embarrassment. I loved that t-shirt though, it was branded with my favorite musician of all time, the late Kiptesot arap Sang of the Junior Kotestes band.

What bike to buy in 2017

I love listening to people go through the agony of choosing a bike to buy.

My friend Eric aptly calls it “Kung-fu”. In his mind, a sick one I should add, a person agonising over whether to pick a KTM Duke 200 with ABS or one without, is akin to a Kung fu fighter kicking, chopping and performing all manner of martial arts moves in the air before finally settling on top of a mountain with one foot on the ground and another held up.

When the agony moves to whether it’s actually worth it spending a fortune on the Duke 200 with ABS when you could get virtually the same engine and gearbox on a Pulsar 200NS at almost half the price, Eric imagines that the Kung fu fighter has leapt from the top of the mountain, hurled himself across the landscape, kicking everything that’s standing before settling once again on a small twig at the top of the tallest tree in the forest.

I love Kung fu. It’s an absolutely necessary process because it helps justify decisions and creates a feeling of satisfaction, which if you ask me, is more important than the actual value of the bike. As a person that sells bikes, I have been on the receiving end of thousands of phone calls with people performing Kung fu. I write this because I know that several new year resolutions have “Get new bike” or “Upgrade bike” somewhere in them and so I imagine the country is awash with bikers looking for their black belts and getting ready for Kung fu. This article is therefore meant to help you begin the fight or at least show you to the right battlefield.

The broad categories

There are six main categories of bikers (and hence bikes): Those that love racing (sports bikes), those that like falling over and being dirty (off-road bikes), those that love looking good but only in urban areas (street bikes), those that love touring the country (touring bikes) and those that love wearing leather vests, taking oaths and keeping long armpit hair (cruiser bikes).

You might know what category you fall into but question is, at what level are you?

Levels of bikers

The first level is the one-percenters. These are people who feel the urge to ride a BMW R1200GS and they go to Bavaria Auto to get one. You are not a one-percenter if you go to Car and General to get a TVS Apache, read on because I will be putting you in your place soon. This level belongs to those that can afford the best of what the world has to offer right now.

The second level is the decent-second-handers. These are people who want to get a brand new R1200GS but economic considerations make them settle for decent second hand bikes. These are usually well kept bikes from South Africa, the US, the UK and other such places; bikes that might be second hand but still are expensive and very good indeed. I love this level of bikers the most because they are the pioneers who suffer the cost of importing and owning a bike not supported by a dealership, all because of love. These are the true bikers if you ask me.

I like to call the third level the fake-it-till-you-make-it people. These are the folks that will get a horribly old and broken Suzuki Hayabusa and nurse it to ill health, all for the scant reward of telling people they own the fastest bike in the world. These are the chaps whose bikes break down during every group ride and they have a shortcut and an explanation for every single ailment on their bike. They know the mechanic’s children and wife a little too intimately and if you look under their beds, you will find a minefield of broken headlights, fairing pieces, cables and old chains. This level is heavily populated by bikes from Uganda. The idea here is to own a bike with a respectable name, irrespective of how it treats you.

The gradual-progress level belongs to those that are not able to break the bank the way the one-percenters or the decent-second handers do, but still want a unique and decent bike to begin with. They prefer to begin with smaller cc bikes and slowly learn the art of riding in the hope of eventually buying their dream bike. The more discerning of this type go for very well made bikes that offer good value for money despite the bikes not being immediately available in the country. For example, bikes from the Bajaj Pulsar range and other global brands with licences to manufacture in India such as KTM Duke, Yamaha, Honda, Suzuki and Piaggio. They know that these Indian manufactured bikes are genuinely well made and priced to offer great value for money.

The final level is the dealership-only fellows. These are people that treasure the comfort in numbers and perception of good service that dealerships offer. It is the place that Mr. TVS Apache belongs. Nobody in this group actually wants the bike they own, it’s just that it makes so much sense to buy a bike from a shop you can see and a bike you have seen at least a thousand others riding. They are a sensible lot I agree, but very boring.

Making the decision

By now it should be pretty straightforward then as to what category you belong and at what level you operate. You will find dealers and a community that will help you choose the best bike. You will also find groups of riders that share your interests and ideas about social life so whatever bike you choose, you will not be lonely.

I should also tell you that pillions, people that don’t own bikes but are always riding on one, are there in plenty and they too are of different categories and levels. I shall not delve into that today because my research is inconclusive but I thought you should know that once again, whatever bike you choose, you will not be lonely.

A banana split and a trouser split – not a good recipe on a bike

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The life of a broke man is not one to be envied. It is full of trials and tribulations, which can only be understood by readers of the book of Job in the Bible. When you are broke, nothing ever works, the simplest plans never succeed, the easiest tasks turn out to be a real mess and you are generally unlucky with everything.

I had the full package with complementary add-ons, of broke man’s luck just after I left university and was trying to forge a career. For fear of invoking painful memories and hence shedding a bucketful of tears that could very well ruin my laptop’s keyboard, I will hold back from telling you about the very worst of my luck and give you a mere incident which did not even register on my Richter scale of bad luck.

So, several months after leaving university, I received an invitation to attend a job interview after a superb through pass that had been played by a sympathetic old man that knew of my abilities and had seen enough of my poverty. It was a promising job in that I was the only candidate invited for the interview and the pay promised was out of this world. All I had to do was show up and  let the interviewer see that I had only one head and that I could hold a conversation in English for up to 2 minutes.

I summoned my girlfriend for a celebratory lunch of two packets of chips, vinegar and salt at McFries, all for 100 shillings. The poor girl was genuinely happy for me. She had been through a lot with my bad luck and yet she saw something in me which even I did not see.

Her words of encouragement and affection moved me and in a moment of thoughtlessness, I promised that I would take her to a Java restaurant immediately after my interview and treat her to something called a banana split, which I had been told by a friend was something quite magnificent.

From my friend’s explanation, three hundred and twenty shillings would do the trick in Java, assuming she didn’t fall to the temptation of anything else in the menu. I calculated that I needed about one month to save the money for two banana splits and so I set a date with her in 45 days (you can never be too sure).

The double dose of good news staggered her but she quickly recovered her composure and had the presence of mind to reward my generous intent with a nice warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

The day of the interview came and I put on my best clothes which comprised of a shirt, a pair of trousers and shoes, all of which had been bought by my girlfriend over the years as gifts. My bike, a 125cc symbol of humility and poverty (which wasn’t bought by my girlfriend), was washed and stood outside waiting to take me to the interview. I said a small prayer and got onto the bike confident that at the end of the ride I would be a changed man with better fortunes.

All through the ride, I felt that the trousers, which I didn’t wear often because they were above my ‘sunday best’ in the hierarchy of preciousness, were uncomfortable and a little too tight around the thighs and crotch. I told myself it was the modern way of dressing to wear clothes which were a little tight around the crotch, all the successful people seemed to do it and I was about to become one.

I arrived at the venue 10 minutes early and thought this to be a good thing. As I alighted from the bike, I heard a loud sound resembling that of a large bed sheet being torn. I looked behind me to check if I could see the strange person tearing bed sheets in an office parking lot but there was no one. Strange.

I removed by bike jacket and proceeded to tuck in my shirt properly and neaten myself when I felt a small tear on my trousers just below the belt at the back. I felt the tear some more and was surprised to discover that it extended a little further down. I looked down in bewilderment and saw that the tear was a lot worse than I had imagined!

It started from the belt area around my bottom and followed the stitching all the way beyond the zip and button at the front all the way to the belt buckle. It was the worst trouser split I had ever seen, a terrible, vengeful trouser split that didn’t spare me even a little dignity.

I stood there for a while, confused and feeling a light wind blowing through my loins. I considered many things, like tying a jacket around my waist and walking into the interview and in the end decided that I would go to a supermarket to buy a new pair trousers with the only money I had and be late for the interview. I thought it to be the best solution.

At the supermarket door the watchman insisted that I put in storage the bag which I held in front of me. He also wanted me to remove the jacket I’d tied around my waist and to spread my arms and legs wide so that he would scan me properly, but I resisted.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to let me in, I let down the bag and jacket and the two watchmen at the entrance saw for themselves the lay of the land under my trousers. They looked at me in embarrassment and waved me inside the supermarket, it was all that could be said in a civilized world.

I sneaked in, picked a new pair of trousers and wore it in the changing rooms. I plucked out the price tag and took it to the cashier. The cashier refused to accept my explanation that the trouser I was wearing was indeed the one I had just bought and so we had to call the watchman at the door to give an eyewitness account of the state of my original pair of trousers. This was not enough, someone was sent to fetch that original pair, which I’d discarded in the changing rooms, as an exhibit and the cashier, together with the branch manager, grudgingly accepted my explanation.

I made it back to the interview venue half an hour later and was informed that they’d waited for me and disbanded so there would be no interview for me and the job offer withdrawn.

I rode back to the house depressed. I had lost an opportunity to a split trouser and to compound the problem I was not going to buy my girlfriend a banana split because I had spent my entire GDP buying a new pair of trousers.

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Availability of Bikes and Spare Parts

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Whenever I hear older people speak, the talk is mostly about the past and how wonderful it was. No doubt it must have been great in the 70s when girls wore very short skirts, having only two wives showed you lacked ambition and Lungula Transmitted Diseases (LTDs) were as harmless as a light headache. It all sounds wonderful until they get to the part of the story where they had to have a minor surgical procedure and the only pain relief that could be found in the whole country was a piece of wood to bite into.

It was horrible and this am afraid is how everything worked out in the past – a nice nostalgic story preceding chapter upon chapter of horror. I could go on giving examples, and so I shall. In the 90s, we were free to play anywhere with anyone because nobody had heard of child abduction. But then only Tv station in the country opened at 4pm. And when I say opened I actually mean opened, because it started with the national anthem and then a lady, standing in-front of some curtains, welcomed you to the television and asked that you enjoy the viewing and to remember to switch it off after the closing national anthem later at 11pm.

But things are different now and the quality of service is always improving. We used to send money using something called a money order, I queued for 7 hours when it was my time to get a PIN number, buses had no maximum capacity and as a result I used to stand all the way from Nairobi to Kericho.

Plainly right now, this very minute, is the best time possible to be alive.

And aren’t we entitled! This world of convenience that we live in has now led us to thinking that everything good exists by default. You cannot believe a human being does not have access to a mobile phone, and you ask people where their “offices” are as if not having or having only one office is the third worst thing after Ebola and the NTSA.

But I understand this entitlement. It is all the doing of big brands such as Samsung and Safaricom that have managed to bring everything right to your doorstep such that you no longer have to do anything whatsoever, apart from reach for your wallet. Jumia now insist on delivering shoes to your door and thanks to OLX, you no longer have to go house hunting.

For bikes though, this is not yet the case and it is a fact not understood by those of us new to bike ownership. You will be familiar with this kind of post in our forums:

“Hi. Which is the best option for a 1000cc bike with full features (ABS, traction control, power commander) that can do 0 – 100kph in 2 seconds, top speed above 250kph, fuel consumption 45 km/l, very sporty and can go off-road. Very important also is spare parts. I want a bike with spares and service dealership available all over the country. My budget is between 150 and 200K. Please contact me. Serious dealers only.”

You may laugh at this sort of entitled and insane demand but this the sort of questions fielded by bike sellers on a daily basis. It is a situation created by a world where the modern consumer (with full access to mobile money and insurance for their mobile phone) faces a motorcycle industry lacking variety, spare parts, mechanics and everything else.

The industry has not yet developed that much and if you’ve travelled to other countries, you will realise that it never quite develops to the same level of service as Safaricom and Samsung. You will for example find BMW dealerships in South Africa but you will be bitterly disappointed to note that none of them stocks the amazing K1300R. Yamaha Kenya will never stock the MT-09 and the Suzuki dealership in town still tries to sell you the Inazuma, a horrible, shapeless bike with unnecessary bulk.

So dear prospective buyer and consumer, understand that it takes a lot to bring in bikes, it takes a lot to maintain a stock of spare parts, it is nigh on impossible to have an entire range of helmets and riding jackets and you will not find a Service Centre with fully trained and pensionable personnel. A bike is not a laptop and if you find someone offering you laptop like services then they are most likely selling you a bike with as little personality and life expectancy as a laptop.

It is all about passion, building relationships and growing together.

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Suzuki Gixxer SF

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Suzuki Gixxer SF

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The Suzuki Gixxer SF is one of those bikes that surprise you the more you know about it.

First it was developed in the same wind-tunnel where the legendary Hayabusa, GSX-R and MotoGP machines are developed. It’s a full-fairing motorcycle that genuinely looks great because there is lots of balance and harmony across the design. The 155cc engine with SEP technology delivers great power without compromising efficiency. Throw in elements such as the aluminum exhaust end cover, clear lens indicators and wheel pinstripes and it tugs at the heartstrings of every person that looks at it.

The Gixxer has won several awards in its class and it absolutely no accident. It’s such a good little bike.

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Blue

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Black

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Red

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Engine Type 4-Stroke, 1-Cylinder, Air-cooled
Valve System SOHC, 2 Valve
Displacement 154.9 cm3
Bore x Stroke 56.0 mm x 62.9 mm
Engine Output 14.8ps@8000 rpm
Torque 14N-m@6000rpm
Fuel System Carburettor
Starter System Kick, Electric
Transmission Type 5 Speed, MT

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Wheels Cast
Overall Length 2,050 mm
Overall Width 785 mm
Overall Height 1,085 mm
Wheel Base 1,330 mm
Ground Clearance 160 mm
Seat Height 780 mm
Kerb Mass 139 kg
Fuel Tank Capacity 12 Ltrs

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Front Disc
Rear Disc
Front 100/80 – 17 – Tubeless
Rear 140/60R – 17 – Radial Tubeless

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Battery Maintenance free 12V, 3Ah
Headlight 12 V 35/35 W
Tail Light LED

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Specifications and images obtained from manufacturer’s website: https://www.suzukimotorcycle.co.in/product/gixxersf

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Honda CBHornet 160R

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Honda CBHornet 160R

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The Honda CBHornet 160R was made with young people in mind.

This is a very funky bike with a chunky 140mm rear tyre and madly styled brake lights that give the people you overtake something good to look at. It doesn’t stop there, the bike comes with an all digital instrument panel, a flat handlebar for comfort and a muscular looking tank. Honda have created a fantastic starter bike with just the right power to weight ratio (15.7bhp vs 140kg), beautiful styling and the legendary Honda reliability.

But for us, the only reason we’d buy this bike has got to be those rear lights. Come on, admit it, it’s worth every penny to buy only those lights and to have a whole bike coming with it.

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Night Star Black

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Siren Blue

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Orange Metallic

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Sports Red

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Pearl White

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Limited Edition

(Orange & Green)

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  • Type: Air Cooled, 4 Stroke, SI Engine
  • Cylinder Capacity: 162.71 cc
  • Max Net Power: 
  • Max Net Torque: 
  • Bore: 57.30 mm
  • Stroke: 63.09 mm
  • Compression Ratio: 10:01
  • Air Filter Type: Viscous Paper Filter^
  • Starting Method: Self
  • No Of Gears: 5

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  • Length: 2041mm
  • Width: 783mm
  • Height: 1067mm
  • Wheel Base: 1345mm
  • Ground Clearance: 164mm
  • Kerb Weight: 140(STD) / 142(CBS)
  • Fuel Tank Capacity: 12.0L
  • Frame Type: Diamond
  • Front Suspension: Telescopic
  • Rear Suspension: Monoshock
  • Tyre Size (Front): 100/80-17
  • Tyre Size (Rear): 140/70-17
  • Tyre Type (Front): Tubeless
  • Tyre Type (Rear): Tubeless
  • Brake Type & Size (Front): Disc 276mm
  • Brake Type & Size (Rear): Drum 130mm / Disc 220mm(CBS)

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Specifications and images obtained from manufacturer’s website: http://www.honda2wheelersindia.com/CBHornet160R/

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Bajaj Pulsar RS200

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Bajaj Pulsar RS200rs-logo4

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RS stands for Racing Sports and Bajaj describe the Pulsar RS200 as “The fastest Pulsar yet”.

The RS200 is yet another bike derived from the fantastic Pulsar 200NS engine, gearbox and chassis. It’s a racing bike designed for the thrill of acceleration and cornering. The 200cc engine is fitted with an EFI unit instead of the carburetor and it makes a significant difference in power delivery. Couple with a 6 speed gearbox and a perimeter frame chassis and you end up with a superbly handling bike that punches well above its weight.

For its price, no other starter sportsbike bike gives you the acceleration, speed and control that you get from the RS200. Its comfortable too, looks great and equipped with projector headlamps and ABS brakes.

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Yellow

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Red

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Black

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Type 4 – stroke, SOHC – 4V – Liquid Cooled, single cylinder
Displacement 199.5 cc
Combustion system Triple spark
Max Power 24.5 @ 9750 (Ps @ RPM)
Max Torque 18.6 @ 8000 (Nm @ RPM)
Exhaust system Exhaust TEC enhanced centrally mounted

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Front Telescopic Front Fork with Anti-friction Bush
Rear Mono suspension with nitrox
Front Brakes: Dia 280mm Disc Rear Brakes: Dia 230mm Disc
Front Tyre: 100/80 – 17 – Tubeless Rear Tyre: 130/70 – 17 – Tubeless

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Frame Type Pressed steel Perimeter Frame
Wheel Base 1355 mm
Length x height x width 1999 mm x 1114 mm x 765 mm
Ground Clearance 157 mm
Vehicle Kerb weight 165 kg
Total litres 13L

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System 12V Full DC MF
Head Lamp (Low/High Beam-watts) Twin projector headlamps (55w low beam and 65w high beam)
Tail/Stop Lamp LED

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Specifications and images obtained from manufacturer’s website: http://www.bajajauto.com/pulsarrs200/index.htm

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KTM RC200

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KTM RC200

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RC 200 is the first step into KTM´s Ready to Race philosophy.

This pocket rocket starts you off with a high performing 200cc engine and a 6 speed gearbox. Throw in components such as upside down forks and a perimeter chassis and you have a bike that handles great. Radial brake calipers with ABS options make it very safe to ride. For its power you get good fuel efficiency.

We recommend this bike for someone wishing to start out with quality sports bikes that use high-end components such as a claw shifted gearbox. It is an excellent choice to start with and it is always good to know that the RC200 is a member of a family of jaw-dropping bikes such as the RC390 and the unparalleled KTM RC8

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Design Single-cylinder, 4-stroke, spark-ignition engine, liquid-cooled
Displacement 199.5 cm³
Bore 72 mm
Stroke 49 mm
Performance 19 kW (25 hp)
Starting aid Electric starter
Transmission 6-speed, claw shifted
Primary gear ratio 22:72
Secondary gear ratio 14:42
Cooling system Liquid cooling system, continuous circulation of cooling liquid with water pump
Clutch Wet clutch, mechanically actuated
Ignition system Contactless, controlled, fully electronic ignition system with digital ignition timing adjustment

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Frame Steel trellis frame, powder-coated
Fork WP Suspension Up Side Down
Shock absorber WP Suspension Monoshock
Suspension travel Front 125 mm
Suspension travel Rear 150 mm
Brake system Front Radial Disc brake with four-pot brake caliper
Brake system Rear Disc brake with one-pot brake caliper, floating brake discs
Brake discs – diameter front 300 mm
Brake discs – diameter rear 230 mm
Chain 5/8 x 1/4” X‑Ring
Steering head angle 65°
Wheel base 1,367±15 mm
Ground clearance (unloaded) 170 mm
Seat height (unloaded) 800 mm
Total fuel tank capacity approx. 11 l
Unleaded premium fuel (95 RON)
Weight without fuel approx. 137.5 kg

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Specifications and images obtained from manufacturer’s website: http://www.ktm.com/supersport/rc-200-1/

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