I Went to the GT Cup Tryouts and All I Got Was a Top 4 Finish and a Swollen Ego.

Mango Sam
May 30
3 min read

You know that moment when you’re doom-scrolling on Instagram and stumble upon something that actually makes your heart race? That was me, when Royal Enfield popped up on my feed with something called the GT Cup—and just like that, I smashed the "Enroll" button like it owed me money.

Now, I’ve broken bike parts off-road before (miraculously, never bones), so risking it all on tarmac felt like a well-earned vacation. What’s the worst that could happen—grip? Safety? Predictability? Boring.

🛬 Arrival Anxiety and Helmet-Sized Hopes

Cut to me pulling up late at the venue, with registration spots disappearing faster than traction in monsoon. Anxious? Slightly. Excited? Immensely. By the time I threw on my gear, my energy levels were somewhere between "rocket launch" and "illegal energy drink."

🏍️ The Bike: Not Your Average Cafe Cruiser

Let’s talk machinery. I was riding a Royal Enfield Continental GT—not your cousin’s café racer, but a purpose-built track weapon modded by Harris Performance. This version ditched the luxuries (like headlights and fenders) and added race-bred goodness:

Setback pegs and clip-ons for full crouch mode
A freer engine tune to scream a little louder
JK race tyres for when grip is a lifestyle
Tail tidy, narrowed tank, stiffer suspension and a full exhaust to keep the blood boiling

PRN Motorsports was tasked with “training” us… but honestly? I just winged it. If it ain't broke, race it.

That said, Day 1 was slightly cursed—my bike’s cone set decided to rebel, pulling left every time I turned right. Nothing like fighting your own machine for control to start the bonding.

🏁 Day 1: Rain Delays and Track Ballet

Tryouts spanned two days at the Go-Kart Track in Noida. Day 1 was mostly training—until Mother Nature decided we needed a break. A mid-afternoon storm flooded the track, and for two hours, it was just wet leathers and worried glances. But when the rain cleared, the intensity dialed up like someone hit “sport mode.”

☀️ Day 2: Sweat, Speed, Survival

The second day was a proper trial by sunfire. 71 hopefuls showed up. Only 30 made it to the time attack. The rules were simple: be fast, be clean, and try not to resemble a lawn dart. Only the Top 8 fastest riders got to head to Kari Motor Speedway.

One thought kept me going: “Go fast. Don’t die.”

And then came The Moment. I started scraping foot pegs and frame mid-corner like I was auditioning for MotoGP. The noise was so loud it muted the crowd and ignited something feral inside me. Fear? I think I left that in Turn 3.

🏆 The Big Reveal: Top 4, Baby

When results dropped, I pulled off the smug smirk of the century, paired with internal screaming loud enough to wake Enfield’s ancestors. Fourth fastest in the entire North Zone, on my very first try. Humble? Who, me?

The other racers were buzzing with genuine excitement—proof that even in competition, camaraderie reigns. Or maybe we were all just dehydrated and happy to be alive.

🧠 What I Learned (Besides How to Corner Like a Maniac)

The GT Cup taught me more than just throttle control, thanks to great coaches at PRN Motorsports. It showed me that the skills I always thought I had weren’t just wishful thinking. I wasn’t just fast—I was top 4 fast. And I didn’t even know I had that in me.

Would I do this again? In a heartbeat. Daily, if someone paid me.

Sadly, despite qualifying, I had to skip the Kari Motor Speedway race due to—wait for it—funding issues. That’s right: I had the speed, but not the sponsor. (Cue tiny violins.)