Text: Ashish Jha
Images: Kapil Vashisht
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| Kasauli & Back |
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Strictly speaking, this is not your regular product review – so if you’re expecting to read about how leisurely the transmission in the Merc GL is, or now un-diesel-like the Volvo S60 is, rush to the nearest news-stand and buy yourself a motoring magazine that our friends from other organizations publish. Or, better still, just go to a web source or two, and save yourself a hundred rupee note. Easy!
Okay, so you’re scratching your scalp now, wondering what exactly this report is about? Three cars and one superbike – what do you think? Well, really it’s just a fanatical description of six guys at their fanatical best, attempting (in retrospect) really quite a berserk task. To put it in simpler words – it’s a mad story of a mad day. Yes, just one day – but what a day it was!
If you’ve been following autoX, you may recall that Dhruv did a drive last year in the brilliant BMW 330i to Kasauli – a small, sleepy town in Himachal Pradesh – just to have breakfast at a dhabha called Gianis. He conveniently made 6 cylinders, 255 horsepower, and rear-wheel drive his excuse. Now, exactly one year later, we decided to do the same mad drive, for the same stupidly mad reason – drive in excess of 300 kilometers to have breakfast. Just that we went one better. No, actually a lot better. Our excuse involved 19 cylinders, and no less than 775bhp. Perhaps we should have reconsidered – in hindsight. I’m serious, and you’ll see why towards the end of this report.
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You may also be aware that our road-trips often get off to a contentious start – largely because we’ve always started late for each and every one of them. And it’s always been Prithvi’s fault. I say that because I’m really not mad enough to blame myself for anything. Jared, on the other hand, is huge, and I’d prefer to keep my limbs attached to my body if possible. So, this time around, it was no different. We decided to leave by 4:30am. Instead, we left by 5:30am – so yes, we got late. Again!
The drive to Kasauli is pretty straight forward – and quite boring for the most part too. You hit NH1 just as you exit Delhi, and keep going till you come to a bifurcation – wherein you go onto NH22, which takes you to this cantonment town. Kasauli was established by the British in 1842, and still remains a relatively quiet, pristine place – one of the few remaining. It may not have too much action, but it does have an Anglican church that was built in the 19th century, as well as a research institute working in the fields of immunology and virological research – ehm, whatever that is! But the most exciting bit is that it’s home to the oldest existing distillery for Scotch Whisky in Asia – the Kasauli Brewery and Distillery was founded in the 1820’s. Sad, we didn’t pay it a visit – but it’s already on the to-do list for next time, and I’m sure you can imagine why. Kasauli is also birth-place of Ruskin Bond – I’m told he’s a top novelist, who is famous for writing things that children giggle upon a lot. So, Kasauli does have its own share of hidden treasures.
We had three cars (well, two cars and a Hippopotamus to be honest) and a superbike/sports cruiser/or something in between in our parking lot – so we decided to take all four. The convoy comprised of Volvo’s latest sex symbol, the S60, Merc’s GL, Maruti Suzuki’s Kizashi, and Honda’s VFR1200F. The team made up of four editorial mad-chaps, a marketing misfit, and a creative junkie. |
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So, it was Dhruv exploring all the sensuousness of the S60, diminutive Prithvi trying to find himself in the gargantuan Mercedes GL350, and Kapil trying to get to grips with the urgency of the throttle pedal in the Kizashi. Me? I was giving these chaps the friendly ‘finger’ each time I shot past them on the VFR. Though the roads till Zirakpur are absolutely horrible, and under construction for most part, there are stretches on the NH1 that are wide, smooth, and you don’t really encounter much traffic early in the day – so you can really push hard. At times we saw 190km/h on our speedos! And that had a profound effect on all of us, and also on one of the machines – the VFR.
I’ve had some really enjoyable times on the CBR1000RR. I’ve ridden that bike extensively – once from Mumbai to Chennai, and then from Delhi to Mussoorie and back. Both times, the CBR returned a ‘respectable’ 15km/l overall fuel mileage. The VFR, though, assumed that I either own a petrol station or have oil fields in my backyard, unknown to the US. It was hopeless, and could only manage an average figure of 11km/l. Now, a 4km/l difference might not sound too big a number, but it makes as much as a 70 kilometer difference on a full tank – and that’s a lot.
More and more global brands are entering the Indian auto market, and technology laden products are getting launched here every other day. And there are a number of manufacturers that advise running their products on premium fuel, so unavailability is another big issue – Mr. S Jaipal Reddy if you’re reading, that’s an area that you could perhaps look at, instead of concentrating all your fascination on increasing the prices whenever you feel the urge. |
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We wasted almost an hour going back-and-forth hunting for premium fuel for the VFR, and that ruined our schedule further. Dhruv was surprised – it had taken him about 4 hours to reach Gianis the year before, and left him enough time to consume all the parathas he could manage, and get back in about the same number of hours. With us in convoy, things were a bit different. We were only as rapid as the slowest car in the pack, and all the construction didn’t do much to help either. Nevertheless, the delay wasn’t really all that boring – we had walkie-talkies to talk to each other, including a helmet piece, but I’m afraid that the conversations can’t really be published here.
After we crossed Panchkula, and especially when we were nearing Kalka, the proper hilly sections welcomed us. All the grumbling about the lack of road infrastructure and traffic congestion mitigated, and, I kid you not, each one of us went into ‘mute mode.’ The radios fell eerily silent, and the in-car chatter was reduced to hushed sighs of deep, mesmerizing tones of contentment. It was just us – the inviting curves, breathtakingly beautiful mountains towering above, and some very different, and interesting, machines.
I was riding the VFR, and the twisties is where I wanted to see what this heavyweight is all about – whether the claim of being a sports-tourer is fitting, or was the term a result of the best creative juices by a team of marketing chaps. Dhruv, at the time, was driving the Volvo – and by God was he giving it stick! Despite having two wheels fewer, and therefore lesser traction and control in the corners, the VFR was constantly kissing the Volvo’s back-end. Keep it in manual mode, and the engine holds its revs beautifully. There are no manic upshifts that give you goosebumps mid-corner, and the balance is simply sublime – especially considering the fact that this is a very heavy motorcycle. This isn’t a track-day bike by any measure, but the mile (and fuel) gobbling capability of the VFR is second to none. The only gripe that I’d ever have from the VFR is the lack of brake bite at the rear, and the low-fuel warning light that, by the end of the day, had all my colleagues in tears. |
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At times, I slowed down to get everyone in a pack – and this allowed me to witness some brilliant moments. Prithvi, piloting the Merc GL350, wasn’t having it easy – not because the GL was underpowered (after all a 3.0 litre V6 doesn’t sound too bad, does it?), but simply due to the fact that it was just too big. You must understand, he’s, well, a bit short (let’s just put it that way) – so the GL basically engulfed him! And Jared, well, he was in the Kizashi – and I’ve never seen him so animated till now. He was happy, and it showed – big time!
We reached Gianis, and after washing off all the dust that beautified my face, it was ‘breakfast’ time – at noon! Yes, our initial plan of reaching Gianis by 10am went properly down the drain – that’s the result of our national highways right there for you. A lot of parathas, dahi and makhhan later, it was time to get moving again. Photography is an indispensable element for any publication – and for a motoring magazine, even more so. Just leave our group design head, Kapil, in front of some artistic stuff and he can blabber about creativity and how art has evolved for hours. Photography, in particular, is what gets this guy most excited.
So, during photography, I decided to get out of my riding jacket and get in the cars. I first sampled the Merc GL350. The GL is offered as an off-roader, so it ought to tackle the broken tarmac with ease, which it did no doubt, but we all felt that the ML is more accomplished, more responsive, more manageable, and a better overall product. Yes, the GL will go fast, because it has the grunt, but it’ll do so with all sorts of disappointing acts. The transmission shifts slowly, the steering is wooden, and it drove as if it were a boat – which essentially means that I felt like I was riding the waves. The GL – well, its enormity is the biggest asset, and its biggest letdown. But, boy does it have road presence.
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The shift from the GL to the Volvo was astonishing. The S60 is a sex kitten – and that, for a Volvo, is like calling Chris Tucker, Beyonce. And the transformation really is that alarming. The new design vision of Volvo is definitely adding naughtiness to the character of the cars. It looks sexy – to an extent that it outshines every other car in its segment. Inside too, it’s quite sparkling. As I sat myself in the cabin, I went oh-my-God! That interior – yes, some might call it too plain and straightforward, while others might even say that there are too many buttons. But, for me, it was just sensational. The floating centre console is a class act, and the quality of everything inside – right from the stalks and controls, to the leather and stitching – was simply superb. And, contrary to our expectations, the turbo diesel was quite a charmer. There’s virtually no lag, and the auto transmission was so well behaved that it responded to throttle inputs instantly – although it could do with a couple of steering-column mounted paddles. The steering response is quite accurate – it’s not BMW quick or entertaining, but it’s direct and effective. There is a very remote hint of body roll, and the tyres could have offered more grip – but that’s nitpicking at best. And the reason for that is the Kizashi. |
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 I’m quoting Dhruv here – ‘this is one of the best front-wheel-drive cars I’ve ever driven.’ Yes, the Kizashi is truly marvellous. It is quite boring on the inside – there’s no charm factor to the spacious interior, and some even thought it looked like an inflated SX4 from the outside. Do I care about that? No, because everything about the Kizashi was smile inducing. The 2.4 litre, 175bhp unit is creamy smooth and even if you rev its nuts and bolts off, it doesn’t flinch – it’s that refined. The grip is brilliant, and the steering is extra special. The manual gearbox elevates the fun factor exponentially, and it was no wonder that the guys were fighting for the Kizashi on the way back. It was, without the shadow of a doubt, the most entertaining car to drive in the group. Not bad for a duo of extremely different sedans – one, the best front wheel drive chassis around, while another, the most comfortable sporty sedan in recent memory.
Despite this, things didn’t exactly go the way we planned. We thought, foolishly, that 325 kilometers to our destination wouldn’t be too difficult, and we’d manage each way in 4-5 hours. Little did we know that the intense traffic on NH22 had other plans for us – it ultimately took us almost 20 hours to complete the journey. The rain Gods didn’t spare us either. As we entered Delhi, it rained. And when I say it rained, I mean it pelted down with anger. I was riding for almost 15 hours, nonstop – while my colleagues were driving for the same number of hours. The difference was that they had the comfort of air-conditioning, good music, and good company. I, on the other hand, had a broken back, tired legs, black face, sweaty pits, and sleepy eyes. We have pledged never to do this again – a one-day touch-and-go drive – at least till the highways are completely built. I hope this is one resolution that lasts – for a few months at the very least.
We started as the first rays of the Sun kissed the surface of land, and the task was to get back by Sunset. We lost – badly – but against a worthy adversary, Nature. Respect – to the Sun, these machines, and “good” ideas. |
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