The day for Kings
Its not often you live and feel like a king. Today, was the day of royalty. I woke up at 7 on a Sunday morning and was most annoyed with the petulance. It was the season’s Vintage Rally and my parents and grandparents insisted on me being present. After much hassling around I relented to be a part of what I assumed to be ‘a date with people who have a leg in the grave’ (oldies). We sat in the 19th century Dodge (1942 I was told, LATER) to go to a congregation of lunatics. Little did I know that this Sunday will be etched as one of the finest days in Bangalore.
As we whisked into ITC Royal Gardenia (a 4 star restaurant) I had a funny feeling that this was not just another day. As I watched much to my disbelief I saw a red Mini Cooper staring at me and crying out loud ‘here comes the party kid’. It was a sight to behold, the grace of the Mercedes, the opulence of Jaguar, royalty of Volkswagen and the sheer presence of a 1932 Ford Mustang. It was an overdose of grandeur. We were immediately led for a quick breakfast mush to my protestation, only to be treated with the best EVER English breakfast I have ever had. Boy did I eat! I lost all sense of shame and dignity when I saw an assort of bacon, truffle, croissant, straddle, cottage cheese, 6 types of sausages, 7 different types of fruit and juice (I counted) , Danish pastry with peach and grapes the size of a ping pong ball. Gluttony got a whole new meaning. I took 4 servings and put upon about 3 kilos in a span of 15 min. Take that for an achievement.
With mush reluctance and abusing from my mom I finally stopped breakfast and the rally began. We were back on Grandpa’s 1942 heading towards Palace grounds. Palace Grounds is where The Mysore Maharajahs’ son or grandson stays (did not have the tome to find out). Picture this people, the entire traffic (roughly around 20 signals) stopped for us and we were escorted like Chief Minister’s to the palace. The common civilians (ha ha) were plainly put, awe struck. After we reached the destination we were treated with some of the fines motor cars in the history. Land Rover’s, 1932 For Mustang was my personal favourite. With the roar of a Lion and the pride of an Elephant it stood like a piece summoning authority. A hood-less 1961 Jaguar was the epitome of audacity.
The Great Motilal Nehru’s car was in running condition shining with Blue oxford paint. Alfa Romeo, Mercedes, Dodge, Chevrolet, Mini Cooper, Morris, Landmaster, Herald, Austin, Buick Eight, and a lot more. It was the most classic sight to look at. If that was not enough we had 1000CC bikes and a host of Lambrettas.
The funny part was an Audi Q series was the pitiable commoner who stood in a corner attracting not a single soul. Old was definitely gold.
And that was how the 20th of December was the day for Royals and I sure was a prince considering my Grandpa has promised to bequeath onto me a 1942 Vintage classic, DODGE.
P.S. I am single: D
crafted by Adi