The Yezdi Roadster has always confused me. It looked like a cruiser, was named a ‘Roadster,’ yet handled like a bratty naked, and that was the part I loved. But I’ve also felt that it mirrored us on most days — sitting calmly through long meetings, while fighting the urge to scream, tear those papers and walk away… into the real world, beyond unrealistic targets and short-sighted goals. The Roadster wanted to be ridden hard; the chassis, ergonomics and engine tune all urged me. But the clunky gearbox, intrusive vibrations and stiff suspension always held it back — much like endless meetings, red tape and shifting targets keep us from ever doing our best work.
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