Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Autopilot

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I pull out the brochures from the mailbox, walk up to my room, dump them on the bed. Their journey from mailbox to trash had a slight detour because I saw an offer for a tablet - seemed quite cheap. I can't really afford any gadgets right now (rather, I shouldn't), but once you find one interesting deal you want to make sure you don't miss any other possible ones.

5 minutes later they all end up in the trash anyway.

Nothing to cook in the house and it's past 8 pm. No supermarkets open anymore, and the choice is between a sandwich/kebab or something-from-groceries-bought-at-gas-station. Noble thoughts like "Let's save money and actually eat better" turn to "Pizza or sandwich?" on the 5 minute walk from home.

I enter the gas station, greet the cashier. I'm tired and on cruise-control mode. I know the layout of this place, and walk to the freezer. Pick up the cheese pizza automatically. Something catches my eye - the Kebab Pizza. I pick it up, turn it over to see the ingredients. My eyes skip over the Dutch (or German?) lists and suddenly pause at the list in English.

I just realize that I was looking for the ingredient list in French, with brain set to scan for the presence of "beouf". I smile to myself. But I still can't really speak the language! Conversations are a struggle. 

Then I realize that all those deals I was reading about were in French.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Anatomy of motorcycle repairs

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"Change oil, remove battery and either drain out all the petrol or fill up the tank."
These are the tips I read for storing a bike for winter, 1 day before leaving for India. Naturally I scourge other websites which tell me that changing oil can be done later, after winter. When I plan to change the regulator that is apparently unrepairable.

After winter, I bring out the toolkit, fish out the pdf manual and scroll to the correct page. The battery-less laptop is upstairs, so I memorize the instructions, run down (so that I don't have enough time to forget). Start dismantling frame cover and seat.

Panic - "What does the regulator look like?!"

Run upstairs, stare at the photograph. Wonder if I am doing the right thing. Walk down, disconnect the regulator wires and start unscrewing the screws. A flimsy spanner screwdriver and rust on the threads ensures the following:
There is no way to put it back. Damn. Also realize that the new regulator has a slightly different shape and the screw would not fit anyway. "It wasn't all my fault", I convince myself. Use Velcro as a fix.

Ten thousand thundering typhoons! Bike still doesn't start.

Clean the spark plugs. Recharge battery for two days. Send out a "HEEEELLLP" post to motorcycle forums.

Next weekend:
Realize that I need to test the ignition coils. "Where are they?" The bike manual says, "under the petrol tank." Ouch. By now I am an expert at removing the frame covers. I take a deep breath and get to work at the petrol tank. Loosen the bolts. Try lifting the tank. It barely budges. Apparently I have to pull, tug, lift and wiggle the tank to get it to move. Swish, swish! Oh crap, the fuel moves around causing the tank to wobble almost out of control. Deep breath. Lift it and peek underneath - two fuel hoses. Rest the tank on the frame, run up read the manual. It says, "Turn the fuel cock to OFF position. Remove the fuel hoses." Hmmmm. Run down, tug at the hoses. They have been fixed by pressure clamps.

Re-adjust the tank on the frame so I can see the ignition coils. (Are they really the ignition coils?) Damn, I need a multi-meter. Put everything back.

The next weekend:
Procure a multi-meter. Test the resistances. Something is wrong, but you still cannot figure out what. Also, the resistances seem fine, i.e ignition coils might be okay. Pull hair out. Also, I *think* I did see the spark plugs spark when I last tested them with a charged battery. But the engine doesn't fire! I don't know what's wrong!

Realize I probably need a new battery. Order a new battery off the internet. Then realize that I might also need new spark plugs. Wait.

The weekend after that:
A friend takes pity on me and offers to help. Also, he has a ginormous tool-box with all kinds of spanners, wrenches and stuff. He has also successfully fixed his car from time to time. Kaching! We open the bike up. Successfully remove the tank and the hoses. Check the wiring, and the ignition coils - they are all fine. The scene is like this:
Yes, the manual is still a pdf on my laptop. And I figured out it's better to have the laptop downstairs. My friend then says, "Maybe the problem is not just the spark plug. Maybe your engine is not getting the correct air-fuel mix. We should check the carbs." Uh-huh.. have you done it before. "Ya, for a car, but never for a bike."

"Well, we are here anyway, let's do it", I say. "But let me take pics as we go, because the pdf doesn't really have great photos. There are too many hoses, pipes and wires running all around." I whip out the camera and the result is some amazing pictures that are of absolutely no help.




Cleaning the carbs seems too complicated. We start putting them back.

"Where did this hose go?" I ask.
"Dunno, check where the other end is", is the reply I get. So I tug at the hose. I start pulling it and it comes out completely. The other end isn't connected to *anything*. I stuff it back in. This makes no effing sense!

We put the stuff back. Apparently defeated.

The weekend AFTER that! (ya, this was a multi-week affair):
I buy the new spark plugs and the new air filter. Replace them. Figure out that the magical unknown hose was a water drain for the petrol tank. Use copious amounts of WD40 to destroy the rust at various places. Use copious amounts of chain oil to lubricate the damn thing. Fit the air filter, put the tank back, fix the new spark plug and connect the new battery.

Switch the fuel cock to the 'PRI' position, engage the choke. Pray and twist the key. The engine turns. Nothing. Twist again. Again the same. Twist again and pray..... IT'S ALIVE!!!!

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

India!

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After every trip to India (or from India to somewhere), I've written a post titled "Culture Shock". This one continues in the series, but I don't know if I should call it shock anymore. I'm not surprised by stuff, I expect it. I'm aware of the differences I see and didn't actually goof up, flinch or be shocked.

But I can't say I'm not confused by stuff... or find it worth not mentioning. So here goes a list.

1. Laws & common sense: we are flexible on them. On the plane to India, I was sitting next to this one Indian couple. To put it politely, they weren't frequent fliers. As the plane begins its descent to Mumbai Airport, the lady next to me fishes her cell phone out of her purse, looks at it and asks, "I didn't have network all this time, but do you think I can give a call to XYZ?"
I may have carried more than the permissible amount of wine in my luggage (wink wink). The customs officer looked at the luggage, smiled at me and waved me away.
and so on...

2. Languages: It was after many conversations with people (in Europe) that I realised that we Indians have multi-lingual conversations. Over the past year I've told many people about how I always mix 3 languages when I speak with my Indian friends. But that truly hit me now when I switched on the radio. Seriously, most of the radio jockeys on all the radio stations speak in 3 languages. In Maharashtra, it's Hindi, Marathi and English. In Goa, it was Hindi, Goan and English. I'm used to this, but it's only now that I find that fascinating.

3. Traffic: It seems that if I sit to drive a car, and the car is a left hand drive, I will drive like a law abiding American/European would. If the car is a right hand drive, I will drive like a zig-zagging, lane-hating, 2 inch clearance loving, over-speeding Indian would. I have no problems adjusting. Though I don't use the horn much.
Which makes me wonder how I would drive in England.

4. Costs: India seems to be unable to figure out whether to be expensive or cheap. I hired a cab to go from Mumbai to Pune (~150 kms). It cost me ~Rs. 1800 (= 30€ , or 40 US$). Not too expensive, right? But, a pair of jeans at a mall cost me the same amount. I wasn't buying ultra fancy big brand names. Probably buying them France would be cheaper. Three of us went to a fancy place for drinks, racked up a bill of ~Rs. 2000 (~30 €). Then we left the place, went to a roadside cart and had some of the tastiest scrambled eggs for Rs. 100 (2€). If you ask me if India is cheap, the most honest answer would be "It depends".

5. Physical contact: This leaves me stumped! How does a guy greet an old friend who is a girl? Obviously, 'bisous' are out of the question. (No seriously, don't ever go randomly kiss a girl. Unless she is your girlfriend. And even then, not in public.)

But do I hug, shake hands or wave a hello? If I met the same friend in the US, it would have been a no-brainer - hugs are okay. But in India, most of the times we just stand awkwardly not knowing what to do. Of course, there are some friends who will hug, some who will shake hands and some who will wave a hello. The problem is that there is no standard "code".

On the other hand, I'd always been a "hands-off" person until a couple of years ago and changed after leaving India... so maybe this problem exists entirely in my head.

6. Long distance calls! I'd forgotten that calling someone in another state costs you more. Or travelling to another state gets you roaming charges. But all this doesn't change the fact that one still picks up the phone and randomly calls any childhood/old friend and chats to eternity.

7. Call an hour or two before and announce to your relatives that you will be dropping by. Just to ensure that they aren't out when you visit.

8. Similarly, if you want to meet your friend, the house is a good place to do so. Bars/pubs aren't places you normally go to. Otherwise, there are coffee shops, malls, random college campuses or "tekdi"s. (Pune is surrounded small hills or tekdi's, and some of them are popular walking spots).


9. I think we might be the only place where the term " of marriageable age" exists. I'm not sure, but I haven't heard it being used by non-Indians yet. :P

10. We rarely live alone or away from family. Someone is always at home, and it is impossible to feel alone. We like sharing space. We stayed at my aunt's place just before I left for France, and at that time we were 10 adults living (comfortably) in a 2~3 bedroom apartment.
And then I landed in France, came over home on a Friday afternoon to a 3 bedroom apartment that was empty. The weekend was spent interacting with very few people (physically, not in the online sense). As a friend described it, I suffered from withdrawal symptoms. For those 2 days, saying I missed India would be an understatement.