Born to race: A weekend spent racing at the KTM Cup Season 3

If you were to read bios of us auto journalists, chances are that pretty soon, you’d realise that all of us lead rather purposeless lives outside of being car/bike guys. It sounds harsh, but it isn’t entirely untrue. To be fair, even now, there’s little that excites us to the extent that the machines do.

I, like several of us, grew up loving these beauties. But for most of us, before automotive journalism became the fallback dream, the aim was to become a racer. What initially started with trying to be the fastest kid on the block turned into topping qualifying and winning world championship trophies. It wasn’t too late when the realities of life, and my own incompetence, hit hard. Education, job, and whatever dreadful thing comes next became the standard.

That was until college, when I got my first bike. That too, a KTM! What ensued was a realisation of “Men don’t grow up, only their toys become bigger.” Long drives, short hill climbs, every time I got onto the bike, it made me realise there are multiple ways of finding happiness in life. It also pushed my appetite for risk. Not reckless, but in a way that would broaden my abilities. What this humble KTM Duke 250 essentially did was pull me out of society’s script and let me find my own rhythm again. From 2019, then, this bike has been the only constant in life, no matter how many cities I switched, how many goals I scratched off. Truth be told, I might even have a bit of bias towards KTM. No worries, though, as was the case in 2019, or the years before that, KTM still continues to make solid bikes.

All those good bike-making skills have allowed KTM to amass a huge crowd of owners / fans / wannabe racers. And the KTM Cup is what gives these guys a chance to fulfil their racing dreams. It starts out as a city-wide selection for KTM owners who can come and fight it out to be selected for further rounds. After four to five such rounds, the selected top 20 from each come to Kari Motor Speedway in Coimbatore for further elimination. From that, 15 are selected for three categories – Women, Amateur, and Pros. As expected, women compete in a separate class, while Amateur and Pro are used to divide men who have raced before and those who are there on track for the first time. There’s also a fourth category – media – how I got into this season of KTM Cup. What’s good about this is that other than the obvious risk that comes with racing, there’s little to lose – bikes and gears are provided by KTM, plus you get a whole lot of track time and expert guidance through classroom sessions. This season was even more special. Dani Pedrosa, a MotoGP legend and KTM’s test rider for MotoGP, attended and even rode alongside us. If you aren’t aware of this man’s greatness level, here’s a stat from MotoGP: 112 podiums from 221 starts, of which 31 are wins. This is also a reason why he’s called one of the most consistent riders in the sport.

The bikes for this season were the new-gen 390 Dukes with a few choice modifications – aluminium racing rear set, addition of sump guard and a foam pad replacing the seat, and lighter fibre parts replacing the front headlamp unit, and the entire rear section. No mechanical changes are made to the bike, which I agree with, since it makes sure everyone is somewhat familiar with the bikes.

We were called out to Coimbatore on Friday morning and taken straight to the track. The first thing you notice is the sheer number of participants. It’s quite mind-boggling. But KTM still manages to squeeze in more and more participants every year. On Friday, we took a classroom session, which was followed by an on-track session riding behind the trainer. The trainer took us through braking points, racing lines, and even body positioning. My priority was to get familiar with the bike as soon as possible, and that’s what I did, setting my own braking markers and trying overtaking moves on slow-moving media colleagues.

Saturday was similar. We reached the circuit bright and early, got through the basic registration, and eagerly awaited our time to ride. Our time soon came, and I was one of the first ones to go out on the track. Racing in other series in the past had given me a decent bit of experience, and with that, I continued to improve my timings. The bike, as expected, was rather quick. Unlike the previous day, no instructor was limiting our pace, and because of that, I was pushing harder each lap, making mistakes, but also learning.

In the afternoon, just a short while before our qualifying, Dani finally showed up. For people who would usually scoff at following celebrities, these racers sure were screaming a lot. Like teenage girls at a BTS concert, I presume. Dani went out on track too, once on an 890 Duke, and then on the race-spec 390 Duke that we were riding. Seeing him ride the same bike we were on, and seeing how good he was on it, surely had me envious. No stress, I’m sure he never got the chance to ride behind a bunch of overenthusiastic media riders trying to outbrake each other into Turn 1 as their careers depended on it, so yay me!

Qualifying came soon, and I finally got a chance to see how well I had prepared. I must have done something good, because I qualified second. Not what I had expected, and instead of bringing relief, it actually brought anxiety. I couldn’t stop thinking about the race start. I was also excited for Sunday, as in the morning we were going to be riding alongside Dani, seeing how he attacks Kari Motor Speedway. I still can’t figure out how I got myself to sleep that night, to be honest.

Anyhow, Sunday came, and like clockwork, we were ready bright and early. The morning started with a class by Dani on what gears to use and how to position yourself for the various technical corners of the KMS. Following that was the practice session, and we got to ride beside him. The biggest learning for me was how smooth he was on the bike, seamlessly flowing through corners, whereas we seemed like we were riding the bike while trying to do aerobics.

Race came soon, and my anxiety peaked. Somehow, I calmed myself and got into my position. The formation lap started, and I pulled the biggest wheelie of my life. Got the bike settled down and did a lap, overtaking the few people who had gotten ahead. Not good for my confidence, but I still pulled myself together. As I got ready to race, there was another blockage; somebody had an issue in the back, and we were asked to do another formation lap. One lap less in the race, but fine – no issues if you are leading, I thought. Except I wasn’t the one leading. You see, the race started as expected – the guy on pole leading, and I was in second place. The guy starting third overtook me right at the start, which was a surprise, but I was right on his tail, so that was fine too.

The biggest surprise for me was a faulty gear shifter. Coming out of C4 at KMS, I noticed my bike didn’t want to shift. I kicked it hard, and it did, but by then, another two riders overtook me. With me in fifth, and effectively three laps left, I was on the hunt. Riding for my life, so to speak, I pushed hard, and eventually overtook one, and was in contention for third before the chequered flag came out. A rather unfortunate race, and one that I should chalk down as a lesson. But for the kid in me, it will always be a loss.

For the adult me, though, it was quite fun. Being able to ride a bike on track to your wits’ end remains one of the best experiences, in my opinion. It not only gives you a form of testing your limits, but also offers a moment of absolute euphoria, where the only true fact is that you love riding.