r/mumbaibikers

Planning a ride this Saturday, Not planning to go to malshej but near by area,
One way riding distance around 80-100 km.
Starting around 6 am.

Attaching an image, which is unrelated by mine-- just for better reach

Long post incoming 🏍️,

All this started when the RS457 launched. Everyone was losing their mind over this bike, but the early feedback was rough. I was also looking at the Duke 390. Though honestly, if my first bike was going to be a KTM, it was going to be the ADV 390 S/R. Mumbai roads being Mumbai roads, an ADV is basically a survival tool at this point.

About a year later most of the issues of RS457 had been sorted out, service network had improved, and then in 2025 Aprilia dropped the Tuono 457. That was the moment for me. The RS is a proper committed sports bike, no arguments — but the Tuono felt like it was built specifically for someone like me. Same engine, better posture.

May 2026 — Let's Goo!! Test ride time.

I was coming off a 2011 Hero Glamour 125. So the RS457 engine felt like someone handed me a rocket. Absolutely loved the power delivery, loved the sound, loved everything about it... except the posture. Within about a minute of riding I was already uncomfortable. Heartbreaking, because everything else about that bike was perfect.

Then tested the ADV 390. Genuinely a great motorcycle, no complaints about capability. But my pillion immediately said there were a lot more vibrations compared to the RS — which, fair, single vs parallel twin, that's just physics. Personally I also just don't like the rear end of the ADV 390. And also I stalled it repeatedly. Never stalled the RS once. Skill issue? Probably. Still made me think.

So the Tuono was the obvious answer — parallel twin, upright posture, best of both. Except no showroom in the city had one.

Waited two weeks. Finally got a call, went in, and they let me ride it in a small area outside the showroom (not on road, so take that ride impression with a pinch of salt). I fell in love with that bike idk HOW ???. I was seconds away from booking it right there before I forced myself to take a deep breath and actually think it through — Tuono vs ADV 390. Heart vs brain. Because in Mumbai, everyone will tell you an ADV is the go to bike.

Heart said "please pick me" - AND I DID!!

First week of June 2026 — went in to book it. And found out Aprilia had stopped production of the Tuono 457 in Puma Grey, with an updated model coming in July. Went home sad and happy at the same time.

Last week of June — started seeing posts about the updated model. Called every showroom nearby. All of them said the same thing: book first to see it in person, or wait until someone else books so you can take a look. Peak Indian dealership experience.

Second week of July — got the call. Bike's at the showroom, come see it. Went to have a look (Just have a look i said), and it was Mamba Black. Instantly changed my mind. Booked it the same day, 9th July 2026.

Was so hyped that I bought a helmet and gloves before the bike was even delivered :')

Delivered on 21st July 2026. There was a 4-5 day delay but honestly after waiting this long, what's a week.

And here it is From dad's 2011 Hero Glamour to "Aprilia Tuono 457 Special Edition". The bike I have been waiting for, finally in my parking spot ❤️.

Apparently mine was the second Tuono 457 Special Edition in Mumbai.

Open to any tips from existing 457 owners — running-in advice, first service stuff, accessories worth getting, anything....

Posted a bit late, was busy enjoying parallel twin madness hehe...

Could plan a weekend ride with other bikers in Mumbai 👊

I got this LS2 Strom 2 on 25th July, but it's not my right size. Have used it for about 400km. It's size S. Basically mint condition. Selling this for 10k (retails for about 12k). If anyone is interested hit me up on :- 8878511007.

I will advise you to wear this helmet for 40mins to figure out if it's your size, otherwise you'll end up making the same mistake as me.

https://maps.app.goo.gl/QS8Ufg1vmMQCjRyz6

Route: Mumbai - Khopoli - Pali - Dolvi - Pen - Mumbai

In a couple of days, Kaze turns two.

Kaze is the Japanese word for wind. Written with the kanji 風, it refers to air in motion, a breeze, or the natural flow of the wind. Beyond its literal meaning, it's often used to symbolise freedom, energy and movement.

I'll admit, she almost had a very different name.

Kandy.

Then I said it out loud a few times and realised it sounded less like an adventure motorcycle and more like a dancer's stage name. That idea was abandoned fairly quickly.
Around the same time, I was playing Ghost of Tsushima. Kaze was the name of Jin Sakai's horse, and something about that name stayed with me. I don't think I could've chosen a better one.

Looking back, I don't think I've ever owned a motorcycle. I think every motorcycle owned a version of me. They taught me something:

• Apache RTR 180 taught me how to fall. More importantly, it taught me how to get back up. There were countless scraped elbows, bruised knees, and one concussion that permanently changed how I looked at helmets. That's where I learnt that half-face helmets belong on scooters, not motorcycles.
• FZ 16 taught me something far more exciting. It was the first bike that gave me the confidence to lean into corners, understand body positioning, and eventually scrape the footpegs on the tarmac. The first scrape wasn't intentional, but it put the biggest grin on my face.
• Thunderbird 350 taught me to slow down. There was something calming about that unmistakable thump and relaxed cruising. But riding a motorcycle with Uttar Pradesh registration plates in Maharashtra was never psychologically comfortable. Whether the concern was justified or not, it was always there in the back of my mind.
• The Himalayan 411 was the adventurer. It was fun, capable and took me places. But it also taught me patience. There were too many quirks, too many service centre visits and too many moments wondering if something else would need fixing next.

Then came Kaze. She quickly became my playground.

Every ride taught me something, and every lesson somehow turned into another upgrade. Sometimes it made sense. Sometimes it was curiosity. Sometimes it was me convincing myself, "This will be the last modification." It never was.
Looking back, I've changed more parts than I care to admit. Some upgrades were brilliant. Some taught me expensive lessons. If there's one thing I'd do differently, it would be the auxiliary lights. I spent far too much time and money trying different setups before realising I should've simply bought one good pair from the start.

But that's part of the journey too. You don't just build a motorcycle. Somewhere along the way, the motorcycle builds you.

People who don't ride will probably never understand it. And honestly, I don't expect them to. From the outside, it's a depreciating asset. It's risky. It's expensive. Every now and then, someone tells me I should've invested the money instead.

They're not wrong.

But they also don't know what it's like to leave the city before sunrise, with nothing but the sound of the engine and the tyres rolling over the tarmac. To feel the air get cooler as you climb into the hills. To stop at a random tapri where the chai somehow tastes better after a couple of hours in the saddle. Coffee? Never. Tapris make terrible coffee. And then, before you know it, you're twenty minutes into a conversation with a complete stranger, simply because you both happened to arrive on motorcycles. That quiet nod another rider gives you at a traffic signal. The satisfaction of looking back at your bike every time you park it.

No financial model knows how to value those moments. Maybe that's why they're priceless.

I remember riding back from Lonavala in pouring rain, with a completely soaked thermostat, bargain-bin knee guards that barely deserved the name, Orazo boots that had no business calling themselves riding boots, and socks that stayed wet for the rest of the day. At the time, I questioned every life decision that brought me there. Today, I'd happily do it all over again.

I remember the crash on the way to Ratnagiri. Standing there, looking at Kaze, I was grateful that I'd spent money on proper riding gear instead of convincing myself it was "too expensive." The crash guards and hand guards did exactly what they were bought for. They took the hit so I didn't have to.

My helmet had a deep scrape across it. I remember looking at it afterwards and realising that my head had hit the road hard enough to leave that mark, yet I hadn't felt a thing.

The people who stopped to help me kept saying, "God saved you." I appreciated their concern, but I saw it differently.
The helmet saved me.
The jacket saved me.
The pants saved me. 
The gloves, the boots, the crash guards, the hand guards... they all did exactly what they were engineered to do.

Luck may decide whether an accident happens. Preparation decides how you walk away from it. That day didn't make me believe riding was dangerous; it reinforced my belief that there's no such thing as riding gear that's "too expensive."

I remember learning something new after almost every ride. Those are the returns I've been getting on this investment.

The last five months haven't been kind to Kaze. She's mostly been a commuter. Office. Home. Office. Home.

Life has been busy. Work. Wedding planning. Studies. Responsibilities. That's okay. Some seasons are meant for building a life rather than chasing horizons.

But I refuse to believe that's all she'll become.

There are still breakfasts waiting in Lonavala. Still roads I've pinned on Google Maps. There's a ride plan a friend made for me. He told me, "That ride will complete you as a rider. Even the Himalayas are overrated compared to it." I don't know if he's right. But I do know that one day, I'll find out. 

Route plan for reference - https://maps.app.goo.gl/54tMJ2cQGXPkSzCSA

There are still weekends where the alarm goes off at 3:00 a.m., and every sensible part of my brain asks, "Why?" My answer is always the same. "Because".

Then I start gearing up. The engine starts. And the answer comes naturally.

People often ask me why I'm so obsessed with this motorcycle. The answer is actually quite simple. I am not trying to build the most expensive KTM Adventure 390. I am building my KTM Adventure 390. There's a difference.  

The funny part is, I'm not broke. I'm just high-class broque. Every spare rupee somehow finds its way back into the motorcycle. Not because it needs it. Because I enjoy making it better.

Because one day, I'll look back and I won't remember the invoices.

I'll remember the roads.
The people.
The conversations.
The mistakes.
The rides that started at four in the morning.
The rides that got cancelled halfway because of the rain.
The rides where everything went according to plan. And the ones that didn't.

One day there'll be a ride that I won't know is my last. I hope that day comes much later.

Until that day arrives... 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.