My Wackiest Idea as a Newbie Rider: Solo Tripping from Mumbai to Delhi
I still don’t know what possessed me. Maybe it was the thrill of doing something offbeat on my birthday. Maybe it was the illusion of freedom that came with a new riding jacket. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the sheer audacity of my beginner self thinking, “How hard can it be to ride solo from Mumbai to Delhi?”
Yes, Delhi.
1,450 kilometers.
On my Yamaha FZ-X 150cc.
Me. A rookie who still hesitates before downshifting at a speed bump.
Spoiler: It’s hard. It's really hard. Especially when your motorcycle resume has exactly zero long rides, and your ride is a sweet little Yamaha FZ-X 150cc—not exactly built for back-to-back state crossings (though some legends have done it on 100cc too). I’m just not sure I can. Yet.
But before logic could catch up, the dream had already bloomed.
This wasn’t about ticking a box. It was about defying my own limits.
I imagined winding highways, chai breaks in dusty towns, my helmet reflecting sunsets I’d chase. No companion. No playlist. Just the drumming silence of the road.
It felt spiritual in a strange way—like a rite of passage.
Until I looked up the actual logistics.
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Reality Check - Why This Is Actually a Terrible Idea (Right Now)
The internet (and my saner friends) gave me a much-needed wake-up call.
Let’s start with the obvious:
1. Distance & Duration
- 1,450+ km, which means 25–30+ hours of riding. I’ve never done more than 40 km in one go.
- To be safe, I’d need 7–10 days minimum.
- My body currently complains after 30 minutes.
2. Fatigue Is Real
- Long-distance riding is romantic until your back seizes up, your throttle hand goes numb, and your attention span starts slipping at 90 kmph.
- Mental fatigue is the bigger threat. That’s when mistakes happen.
3. The Bike Itself
My Yamaha FZ-X is sweet and reliable. But:
- It’s a 150cc commuter bike, not a touring machine.
- No windscreen. No saddle comfort. Not built for 400 km days.
- Luggage options are limited without major hacks.
4. Highways Are Unforgiving
Even the well-known NH48 throws surprises:
- Stray dogs. Sudden potholes.
- Fast-moving trucks. Low-visibility mornings.
- And worst of all: That one sleepy stretch after lunch.
- The thought of overtaking a truck still makes me whisper a prayer.
5. Emergency Skills? Uhh… Working On It.
I still haven’t mastered:
- Fixing a puncture
- Chain maintenance
- Spotting oil leaks
- Using a hydration bladder correctly
Let alone riding through rain, altitude drops, or nightfall detours.
But I’ve got one thing: the desire to do this right.
So instead of jumping headfirst into a 1,450 km heartbreak, I’m giving myself time. And this blog? Consider it my public confession and roadmap—to keep me honest, to keep me riding, and maybe to inspire someone else whose ideas are equally wacky and wonderful.
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The Practice Plan That Can Save My Ass (and Probably My Collarbone)
I have given myself a 3-month roadmap. Each week has a purpose. A roadmap from clueless to confident.
Over the next 3 months, I’ll build the skills, strength, and stamina this ride demands. I’ll ride short, ride solo, ride wrong—and learn.
Month 1: Baby Steps, Literally
Start with early morning city rides. Learn my machine.10–20 km loops.
Practice:
- Clutch control
- Rear braking
- U-turns without crying
Weekend challenge: Thane to Marine Drive or Aarey forest loop. Get comfortable in city traffic and short bursts.
Month 2: Hello, Highways
Start venturing out.
- Learn to ride at 80–100 kmph without panicking
- Practice overtaking trucks (and staying sane)
- Do trips to Alibaug, Kashid, or Lonavala
I’ll even pack a backpack to simulate the real thing.
Month 3: Ride, Rinse, Repeat
Start riding 2–3 days in a row. Like:
- Mumbai → Daman
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Mumbai → Mahabaleshwar
Learn minor maintenance stuff like checking air pressure, chain lubing, and using a puncture kit (hopefully never, but who knows).
Also, Packing Like a Pro (Or at Least Trying)
I am building a checklist longer than my grocery list:
- CE2 armored riding jacket and pants? ✅
- Waterproof gloves and a certified helmet? ✅
- Power bank, hydration bladder, puncture kit? ✅
- Downloading offline maps for when Google ghosts me? ✅
- I still forget snacks sometimes. Never again.
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The Route I’d Take (Someday Soon)
Mumbai → Surat → Vadodara → Udaipur → Ajmer → Jaipur → Delhi.
A rider-friendly, scenic route via NH48. Around 6–7 days if I take it slow. I’m not trying to win a race—just savor the ride. Let the road unfold in real time. Let it change me.
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What Stopped Me (For Now)
It wasn’t fear.
It was respect.
For the road. For my body. For the journey.
I realized I was romanticising something I hadn’t yet earned. And that’s dangerous—on highways, misplaced confidence can cost you more than just time.
So instead of charging headfirst into Delhi, I paused.
Not quit. Paused.
Because adventure is sacred. And I want to arrive at it ready, not wrecked.
But here’s the thing: the idea wasn’t wacky after all.
It was necessary.
Because in chasing this wild dream, I might just become a better rider.
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Why This Is Equal Parts Stupid and Beautiful
Let’s call it what it is: ambitious. Premature. Definitely not something most people would recommend to a beginner.
But at the same time?
It’s mine.
This isn’t just about Delhi.
It’s about testing what my body and mind can hold.
It’s about turning a fantasy into something real, with every kilometer.
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What the Road Really Means to Me
This journey—for me—isn’t just about riding a bike.
It’s about reclaiming movement.
I come from a middle-class family. Travel wasn’t easy, and it definitely wasn’t spontaneous. So when I got a chance to work in Delhi, it was already a big leap.
But before I returned home to Mumbai, something stirred. I needed to see Vrindavan. I needed to sit by the Ganga in Rishikesh. I didn’t know what I was looking for—maybe silence, maybe a signal. Maybe it was just time I moved without asking.
Everyone said: “Take the bus. Take the train. Play it safe.”
And I did. Back then, I did.
But a few years later, something shifted.
I took a 45-day solo trip across the hills, and this time—I moved differently. I rented scooters wherever I went:
- In Dharamshala, I rode through clouds like they were chapters I hadn’t read yet.
- In Bir, I took turns too fast and laughed into my helmet.
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In Chandigarh, I looped unknown roads just because I could.
The scooter wasn’t just a ride. It was space. It was safety. It was mine.
It gave me the freedom to stop when I felt like it.
The safety of my own company.
The quiet power to choose where I go next.
And somewhere on those winding roads, I touched a deeper version of myself.
Not braver. Just freer.
And maybe that’s why now, years later, I’m drawn to the motorcycle.
Not because I want to go faster—
But because something in me wants to go deeper.
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Not Escape—Return
I don’t know why this bike. I don’t know why this ride.
But something about it feels like the next chapter in a story I didn’t know I was writing.
The bike isn’t just a machine.
It’s a mirror.
The road isn’t just asphalt.
It’s a practice.
And the ride isn’t just an escape.
It’s a return.
To self. To stillness. To the version of me that feels most alive.
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Will I Actually Ride to Delhi?
I don’t know.
Not today. Not next week.
But maybe—if I keep showing up, if I train the way I’ve promised myself I will—then maybe I’ll be ready in three or six or twelve months.
Someday I’ll ride out at sunrise, heart drumming in sync with the engine.
I’ll stop at dhabas, laugh with strangers, cry quietly into my helmet on Day 3, and keep going anyway.
But for now?
I ride short.
I ride slow.
I ride with intention.
Because every long road starts with that first tiny kilometer—
And one stubborn, wacky little idea that refuses to let go.
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If You’re a Dreamy Newbie Like Me…
Take the trip in parts.
Fall in love with 50-km loops.
Make weekend rides your ritual.
Ride with people. Ride solo. Ride wrong, and learn.
And one day, when your back can handle 350 km in a day and your soul still craves the horizon—you’ll be ready for Delhi.
Until then, we ride.
One city, one mistake, one mile at a time.