OK so the first day didn't go so well.
I decided to take a step back and start over.
First I went out and got some basic tools.
Screw drivers, sockets, wrenches.
Finding decent tools took an entire day.
Walmart hasn't made it to England yet.
That's either a good thing or bad, depends on if your looking for something.
If you need paper your go to the stationary store. Need aspirin go to the drug store.
Need blank cds go to the electronic store. Each thing is in it's own separate store.
shopping takes all day. I see people walking around all the time dragging suitcases.
Now I know why, that's their shopping for the day.
I spent 5 hours washing and cleaning the bike.
Why did it take 5 hours?
Because I tried to scrub down every single part and check for lose bolts and nuts.
I found 5 lose nuts, mostly non important stuff like the kick stand, seat, brakes etc. Just kidding.
I also spent some time looking up how to start and run the bike.
Starting the bike is a ritual in itself.
Put Bike Neutral
Put bike on center stand
Fuel On
Choke on
Ignition OFF
Press Carburettor tickler 3 times
Hold in Compression release lever
Turn over kick start 10 times
Let go of Compression release lever
Ignition ON
Move kick start till it stops
(Amp meter will move to the left
Push on the compression release lever and
move the kick starter until
the amp meter moves back to the middle)
release the compression release lever
Kick start the Engine
Needless to say stalling in traffic can become a bit of a pain.
But after a 5 hour bath the bike seems to have decided that it likes me and starts up on the first try.
I take it for a nice simple drive around the neighbour hood.
I learn that I need to be in neutral before I stop the bike.
Getting to neutral while it's stopped is somewhat difficult.
Since it was late and I was tired I went back home.
Not a spectacular day but a good starting place.
Saturday 1 August 2009
Wednesday 29 July 2009
Locomotive Breath
Day 1 Ride Home
Ahha!! I have the bike! I'm on the road!
I'm going back to my apartment and I have no idea how to get there.
Pull out the trusty Iphone and look at the map, A12 to A4 to M4...I think.
I take off and fumble through the gears and and hear something that sounds like a WWII Tiger tank going into gear.
I'm on the A12 and see a sign that looks like alien hieroglyphs.
It seems to be a traffic circle......a round intersection looking...thingy.
I look at the sign.
I'm supposed to take the 3rd exit, I think, in the traffic circle.
I do this without getting hit and now I'm on the motorway.
Open up the throttle to 80 Kilometres per hour.
Sounds impressive to you non metric Americans right.
(Hint if size really is important to you, use the Metric system)
That's a whopping 50 miles per hour.
And it's actually quite a comfortable speed.
The engine is rewarding me with a nice steady thump.
For some reason I have Jethro Tull songs going through my head.
The sky is blue, the sun is shining.
People are passing me and waving.
......No make that everyone is passing me.
A red car pulls up and a guy starts yelling and pointing behind him.
I look around.
Did I drop something? I'm I leaking oil, I'm I on fire?
I pull over to the left hand lane and he gives me a thumbs up.
Oh.....the left hand lane is the slow lane here.
Oops!
Not being sure how much gas I have I pull into a small town to fill up.
The gentleman that sold me the bike also gave me a small single seat.
This I have strapped to the back seat.
While I do still have it I notice that I am missing a seat spring for it that fell off.
Ahh no big deal.....little did I know this was a forwarning of things to come.
In getting the gas cap off I accidentally rip the gas cap rubber seal.
When the cap is put back on gas leaks onto the tank which I clean up.
Go though the start up routine. Up on center stand, fuel, neutral, no choke since the engine is warm, Kick, ouch....Kick...start.
Off on the road again.
In checking my Iphone map I notice the M4 is screwed up with traffic.
I decided to take the A12 through London then.
I'm now positive the path to hell is paved with people trying to take short cuts.
Get into London and all my troubles start.
The engine stalls out at intersections, mostly because I can't find neutral.
And this bike in first gear seems to idle at 30 miles per hour.
I'm not sure if it's trying to go somewhere or hump the Volvo in front of me.
At least it could pick a Ferrari or something.
And every time I stall out I have to pull over, up on the center stand, neutral, kick, start etc. etc.
At one point it doesn't start back up though.....uh oh.
I check everything over. Fuel? filled but up what position is the fuel tap in?
Should be on but what position is on? It has three: on, off, reserve. But what position in on? I figure that out. OK, check the choke lever.
Move it around and....there is no choke cable.
But there is a lose cable in front of the bike. What does that go to?
It goes to the top of the cylinder head....ahh OK.....and what does that do?
I have no idea and I can't find the choke cable.
I finally figure out that it is the cylinder decompression cable.
And it seems both ends of it are broken.
But the cylinder decompression can be manually moved with my thumb.
So it's no big deal.
The choke thing is bothering me though.
Get the bike started again and drive for a bit until I hit traffic and stall out again.
On this bike you cannot come to a full stop in first gear holding the clutch down and except it to keep running. You have to have it in neutral, which is a pain in the butt to find. Maybe the clutch cable needs adjusting but I'm in no position to screw with it at the moment.
It has a Neutral finder lever by the right foot but I have no idea how that works.
I'm sitting on the side of the road, hot, tired, dying for a bottle of water when a guy drives by in a lorry (Truck) and yells at me in something that sounds like English.
“Oieeee! Tahts a niuce right proper Englush bike thur!!! Cheeers!!!”
What the heck did he just say?
“Thank you... Cheers!!” I yell back.
If you have no idea what to say always say "Cheers".
After much trial and error, and the impending threat of rain, I get the bike started again.
Go for a bit, hit traffic. Stall.
The universe is trying to tell me something.
Maybe something like
“Wow! you have no idea what your doing do you?”
I push the bike into the parking lot of a Japanese restaurant.
I get off and of go inside and have a coke and a glass of water, With a lots of ice cubes.
That gets me a funny look from the bar tender, maybe be because of the fact that I'm sweating, have grease stains, sunburned and probably look exhausted.
At this point I'm almost 2 miles from home. No problem. Get the bike going. Started going through the last major intersection when BANG!! all sudden the bike gets really loud and giving it gas just makes it louder and not going very fast. Pull over next to a nice big park. What happened? As I'm looking around a nice man pulls up and tells me, in the same voice that people tell you your zipper is down.
“Hey your muffler fell off back there”
“Oh....uh..thanks”
I walk back and pick up the muffler, some scratches but not to much damage.
At the point I'm a mile from home. The bolt that holds the muffler on is missing.
I only have some tape and a simple leather man tool.
On the bike is a sticker that says “This bike protected by Zen Philosophy”
Zen in a nutshell: Stuff happens Get over it.
Zen for Royal Enfields: Breakdowns happen, things fall off, get over it.
Oddly enough during all of this I'm not upset or angry.
I'm actually kind of happy because I have a challenge.
A drunk homeless man walks up to me and starts talking about
how he used to have a bike also.
I'm polite and talking to him and trying to figure out what to do.
I start to pull the bike up on it's center stand the same way
I did with my Virago 1000.
Foot on the center stand, hands on the handle bar, take a deep breath, swing back with all my weight when the drunk nicely says
“You don't have to go through all that”
????
“Here see the handle on the left hand side behind the seat, grab that with your right hand, with your left grab the handle bar. Now lift up and pull back”
The bike goes up on the center stand with no problem or effort.
The drunk says a few more words and wanders off.
You ever wonder if God sends us Angels as
drunk smelly homeless people just to screw with our heads?
I was afraid I would screw something else up so I push the bike the last mile home.
I needed the exercise anyway.
Ahha!! I have the bike! I'm on the road!
I'm going back to my apartment and I have no idea how to get there.
Pull out the trusty Iphone and look at the map, A12 to A4 to M4...I think.
I take off and fumble through the gears and and hear something that sounds like a WWII Tiger tank going into gear.
I'm on the A12 and see a sign that looks like alien hieroglyphs.
It seems to be a traffic circle......a round intersection looking...thingy.
I look at the sign.
I'm supposed to take the 3rd exit, I think, in the traffic circle.
I do this without getting hit and now I'm on the motorway.
Open up the throttle to 80 Kilometres per hour.
Sounds impressive to you non metric Americans right.
(Hint if size really is important to you, use the Metric system)
That's a whopping 50 miles per hour.
And it's actually quite a comfortable speed.
The engine is rewarding me with a nice steady thump.
For some reason I have Jethro Tull songs going through my head.
The sky is blue, the sun is shining.
People are passing me and waving.
......No make that everyone is passing me.
A red car pulls up and a guy starts yelling and pointing behind him.
I look around.
Did I drop something? I'm I leaking oil, I'm I on fire?
I pull over to the left hand lane and he gives me a thumbs up.
Oh.....the left hand lane is the slow lane here.
Oops!
Not being sure how much gas I have I pull into a small town to fill up.
The gentleman that sold me the bike also gave me a small single seat.
This I have strapped to the back seat.
While I do still have it I notice that I am missing a seat spring for it that fell off.
Ahh no big deal.....little did I know this was a forwarning of things to come.
In getting the gas cap off I accidentally rip the gas cap rubber seal.
When the cap is put back on gas leaks onto the tank which I clean up.
Go though the start up routine. Up on center stand, fuel, neutral, no choke since the engine is warm, Kick, ouch....Kick...start.
Off on the road again.
In checking my Iphone map I notice the M4 is screwed up with traffic.
I decided to take the A12 through London then.
I'm now positive the path to hell is paved with people trying to take short cuts.
Get into London and all my troubles start.
The engine stalls out at intersections, mostly because I can't find neutral.
And this bike in first gear seems to idle at 30 miles per hour.
I'm not sure if it's trying to go somewhere or hump the Volvo in front of me.
At least it could pick a Ferrari or something.
And every time I stall out I have to pull over, up on the center stand, neutral, kick, start etc. etc.
At one point it doesn't start back up though.....uh oh.
I check everything over. Fuel? filled but up what position is the fuel tap in?
Should be on but what position is on? It has three: on, off, reserve. But what position in on? I figure that out. OK, check the choke lever.
Move it around and....there is no choke cable.
But there is a lose cable in front of the bike. What does that go to?
It goes to the top of the cylinder head....ahh OK.....and what does that do?
I have no idea and I can't find the choke cable.
I finally figure out that it is the cylinder decompression cable.
And it seems both ends of it are broken.
But the cylinder decompression can be manually moved with my thumb.
So it's no big deal.
The choke thing is bothering me though.
Get the bike started again and drive for a bit until I hit traffic and stall out again.
On this bike you cannot come to a full stop in first gear holding the clutch down and except it to keep running. You have to have it in neutral, which is a pain in the butt to find. Maybe the clutch cable needs adjusting but I'm in no position to screw with it at the moment.
It has a Neutral finder lever by the right foot but I have no idea how that works.
I'm sitting on the side of the road, hot, tired, dying for a bottle of water when a guy drives by in a lorry (Truck) and yells at me in something that sounds like English.
“Oieeee! Tahts a niuce right proper Englush bike thur!!! Cheeers!!!”
What the heck did he just say?
“Thank you... Cheers!!” I yell back.
If you have no idea what to say always say "Cheers".
After much trial and error, and the impending threat of rain, I get the bike started again.
Go for a bit, hit traffic. Stall.
The universe is trying to tell me something.
Maybe something like
“Wow! you have no idea what your doing do you?”
I push the bike into the parking lot of a Japanese restaurant.
I get off and of go inside and have a coke and a glass of water, With a lots of ice cubes.
That gets me a funny look from the bar tender, maybe be because of the fact that I'm sweating, have grease stains, sunburned and probably look exhausted.
At this point I'm almost 2 miles from home. No problem. Get the bike going. Started going through the last major intersection when BANG!! all sudden the bike gets really loud and giving it gas just makes it louder and not going very fast. Pull over next to a nice big park. What happened? As I'm looking around a nice man pulls up and tells me, in the same voice that people tell you your zipper is down.
“Hey your muffler fell off back there”
“Oh....uh..thanks”
I walk back and pick up the muffler, some scratches but not to much damage.
At the point I'm a mile from home. The bolt that holds the muffler on is missing.
I only have some tape and a simple leather man tool.
On the bike is a sticker that says “This bike protected by Zen Philosophy”
Zen in a nutshell: Stuff happens Get over it.
Zen for Royal Enfields: Breakdowns happen, things fall off, get over it.
Oddly enough during all of this I'm not upset or angry.
I'm actually kind of happy because I have a challenge.
A drunk homeless man walks up to me and starts talking about
how he used to have a bike also.
I'm polite and talking to him and trying to figure out what to do.
I start to pull the bike up on it's center stand the same way
I did with my Virago 1000.
Foot on the center stand, hands on the handle bar, take a deep breath, swing back with all my weight when the drunk nicely says
“You don't have to go through all that”
????
“Here see the handle on the left hand side behind the seat, grab that with your right hand, with your left grab the handle bar. Now lift up and pull back”
The bike goes up on the center stand with no problem or effort.
The drunk says a few more words and wanders off.
You ever wonder if God sends us Angels as
drunk smelly homeless people just to screw with our heads?
I was afraid I would screw something else up so I push the bike the last mile home.
I needed the exercise anyway.
Saturday 25 July 2009
RIP Mr.Patch
Told you there was going to be some history in here somewhere.
The same day I picked up my bike the last surviving British WW1 veteran, Harry Patch, passed away at the age of 111 on July 25th.
He summed up the War with this quote:
“It wasn't worth it. No war is worth it. No war is worth the loss of a couple of lives let alone thousands. T'isn't worth it...the First World War, if you boil it down, what was it? Nothing but a family row. That's what caused it. The Second World War...Hitler wanted to govern Europe, nothing to it. I would have taken the Kaiser, his son, Hitler and the people on his side and bloody shot them. Out the way and saved millions of lives. T'isn't worth it.”
WW1 is still seems to mean a lot in England.
I arrived last November just before Remembrance day.
On November 11, at 11:11 A.M. every one stopped for two minutes for a moment of silence. And they didn't just blow it off. They actually stopped what they were doing.
I'm ashamed to admit most Americans can't even remember when WW1 was much less that we were involved in it for a short time.
The same day I picked up my bike the last surviving British WW1 veteran, Harry Patch, passed away at the age of 111 on July 25th.
He summed up the War with this quote:
“It wasn't worth it. No war is worth it. No war is worth the loss of a couple of lives let alone thousands. T'isn't worth it...the First World War, if you boil it down, what was it? Nothing but a family row. That's what caused it. The Second World War...Hitler wanted to govern Europe, nothing to it. I would have taken the Kaiser, his son, Hitler and the people on his side and bloody shot them. Out the way and saved millions of lives. T'isn't worth it.”
WW1 is still seems to mean a lot in England.
I arrived last November just before Remembrance day.
On November 11, at 11:11 A.M. every one stopped for two minutes for a moment of silence. And they didn't just blow it off. They actually stopped what they were doing.
I'm ashamed to admit most Americans can't even remember when WW1 was much less that we were involved in it for a short time.
Day1
July 25th 1909 Louis Blériot crosses the English channel in a home built Air plane with a 3 cylinder engine outputting 25 horsepower.
2009 the feat is recreated by Pilot Edmond Salis flying a replica of the aircraft.
I'm mentioning this becuse a Royal Enfield Motorcycle with a 500cc Engine has about 22 brake horsepower.
6 A.M. Catching the train to Chelmsford to pick up the Bike.
At the station get a cup of tea and a jelly doughnut £4.50.
Almost spit out my tea when the server said that.
The tube and the train is great early in the morning on a weekend.
Not a lot of people but too short a journey to take a nap.
I'll never sleep on a train again though.
Once I caught a train from Wigan to London. 4 hour trip, no changes, no problem, headphones in, Nap time.
Woke up at a station and noticed people rushing around. Suddenly the doors close and the train starts to leave the station. But now the train seems to be going North instead of South.
Asked the cute stewardess "Uh where is this train going?"
"Why it's going to Glasgow" She smiles
"I thought it was the train to London?"
"Oh it was but we had a small mix up" she smiles again.
The word “mix” up and trains should never go in the same sentence.
"Uh how do I get to London then?"
"Oh you can get off at the next station and wait for the next train going to London" Smile.
The next station was platform in an industrial wasteland with a broken vending machine. Next train came along 2 1/2 hours later. A trip that should have take 4 hours became 8.
Back to the present, get to my destination and notice a sign
"General rail drivers strike planned for July 31"
mmm Wonder if that that might ruin my holiday plans in East Anglia?...if I had any.
The gentleman that's selling me the bike is kind enough to pick me up at the station.
He's in a bit of a rush because he's leaving for a holiday in Scotland.
We get to his place and he shows me the bike.
He takes the time to tell me how reluctant he is to see the Bike go.
It starts up, with a kick.
I put my helmet on to take it for a drive around the block.
The Royal Enfield is surprisingly light.
I'm used to a V-twin Virago 1100. Shifting gears takes a bit getting used to.
The gear shift is on the right hand side and it's 1st up, and down is neutral, 2, 3, 4. The rear brake is under the left foot. I go around the block fumbling gears and getting used to the bike which seems to do well. The bike seems to have more controls than a WW1 fighter. Throttle, choke, decompression lever, front and back brakes, clutch, speedometer, No fuel gauge or neural indicator. The headlight is on....I think.
The bike is in good condition and for what I'm paying for it and what other Royal Enfields are going for on-line, £2,000 to £3,000 pounds, I cannot complain. Plus the MOT is current and everything seems to work.
We exchange the money and sign all the paper work. I go through the procedure of starting the bike,
I try to kick start it seating on the seat with my right foot. After almost breaking my leg I decide that's not going to work. OK, bike on centrer stand, fuel, choke, standing on the right of the bike, Put all my weight on my left foot and the bike starts up.
Almost want to yell “Contact!!!” when I start the bike.
I shake hands with the gentleman and ride off.
As I'm riding way I notice the man wiping a tear from his eye.
When, and if I leave England, and I cannot take this bike with me, he will be the first person I call to see if he wants it back.
2009 the feat is recreated by Pilot Edmond Salis flying a replica of the aircraft.
I'm mentioning this becuse a Royal Enfield Motorcycle with a 500cc Engine has about 22 brake horsepower.
6 A.M. Catching the train to Chelmsford to pick up the Bike.
At the station get a cup of tea and a jelly doughnut £4.50.
Almost spit out my tea when the server said that.
The tube and the train is great early in the morning on a weekend.
Not a lot of people but too short a journey to take a nap.
I'll never sleep on a train again though.
Once I caught a train from Wigan to London. 4 hour trip, no changes, no problem, headphones in, Nap time.
Woke up at a station and noticed people rushing around. Suddenly the doors close and the train starts to leave the station. But now the train seems to be going North instead of South.
Asked the cute stewardess "Uh where is this train going?"
"Why it's going to Glasgow" She smiles
"I thought it was the train to London?"
"Oh it was but we had a small mix up" she smiles again.
The word “mix” up and trains should never go in the same sentence.
"Uh how do I get to London then?"
"Oh you can get off at the next station and wait for the next train going to London" Smile.
The next station was platform in an industrial wasteland with a broken vending machine. Next train came along 2 1/2 hours later. A trip that should have take 4 hours became 8.
Back to the present, get to my destination and notice a sign
"General rail drivers strike planned for July 31"
mmm Wonder if that that might ruin my holiday plans in East Anglia?...if I had any.
The gentleman that's selling me the bike is kind enough to pick me up at the station.
He's in a bit of a rush because he's leaving for a holiday in Scotland.
We get to his place and he shows me the bike.
He takes the time to tell me how reluctant he is to see the Bike go.
It starts up, with a kick.
I put my helmet on to take it for a drive around the block.
The Royal Enfield is surprisingly light.
I'm used to a V-twin Virago 1100. Shifting gears takes a bit getting used to.
The gear shift is on the right hand side and it's 1st up, and down is neutral, 2, 3, 4. The rear brake is under the left foot. I go around the block fumbling gears and getting used to the bike which seems to do well. The bike seems to have more controls than a WW1 fighter. Throttle, choke, decompression lever, front and back brakes, clutch, speedometer, No fuel gauge or neural indicator. The headlight is on....I think.
The bike is in good condition and for what I'm paying for it and what other Royal Enfields are going for on-line, £2,000 to £3,000 pounds, I cannot complain. Plus the MOT is current and everything seems to work.
We exchange the money and sign all the paper work. I go through the procedure of starting the bike,
I try to kick start it seating on the seat with my right foot. After almost breaking my leg I decide that's not going to work. OK, bike on centrer stand, fuel, choke, standing on the right of the bike, Put all my weight on my left foot and the bike starts up.
Almost want to yell “Contact!!!” when I start the bike.
I shake hands with the gentleman and ride off.
As I'm riding way I notice the man wiping a tear from his eye.
When, and if I leave England, and I cannot take this bike with me, he will be the first person I call to see if he wants it back.
Friday 24 July 2009
Introduction
This is blog about a “dang fool” and a Motorcycle.
About driving on the wrong side of the road on a 50 year old motorcycle design with the clutch on the wrong side.
About people, history and weird stuff and why things work, or on some cases don't.
Public transportation In England is wonderful.....when it works.
Even when it's not working it's still better than the public transportation in Los Angeles, which really doesn't even have public transport.
After 6 months of living in London as an American ex-pat I've discovered a few things.
The public transport is great if:
A) your not in a hurry
B) your very flexible in your time and route
C) you don't mind walking home after midnight.
Yes there are night buses and if you figure out the schedule you can probably do Quantum physics in your sleep.
There have been numerous times I have arrived at the tube station only to find that the connection I needed to take was "undergoing planned engineering works"
Or over heard messages like
"The Jubilee, Bakerloo, Northern, Metropolitan, Piccadilly, Circle and District, Victoria, Central, Hammersmith, Waterloo and City lines will be closed this weekend" and my favourite
"There will be a slight delay because there someone under the train ahead of us"
Gee don't spare me the gory details because I just had sushi.
Or better yet the drivers are all on Strike.......again.
I also found out the trains in England are great, you can get anywhere in the country by train. How you get around past the train station is bit of a problem.
It's wonderful if you have the time to walk though.
All of which lead me to the crazy idea of buying a motorcycle. Why a motorcycle? Well I can get one for less money than a car, insurance is cheaper and I don't have to go through the weirdness of learning how to drive on the right hand side.
A motorcycle is simpler to operate.
Stay on the left hand side, don't hit anything.
Plus I've driven motorcycles since I was 16. My last bike was a 1998 Virago 1100 Special. Great bike but it had the problem of having too small of a tank and gas mileage of a whopping 45 mpg. When the tank only holds 3.5 gallons you don't go very far. It also had an electrical problem that caused it to back fire that I was never able to solve permanently.
So the type of bike I wanted was something that was cheap, good gas mileage, easy to maintain, durable.
Doing some research I came across the Royal Enfield motorcycles. Royal Enfield was a English bike company from 1890 to 1971. They made bicycles, lawnmowers, engines and rifle parts. During WWII they made motorcycles for the British army. In the 1950's they received a large order of 800 bikes to supply to the government of India. It was decided that it was more economical to built the bikes in India so a shop was set up in Chennai, India.
The Royal Enfield is about as dirt simple as a motorcycle can get. Two tires, seat, Single 350cc cylinder, kick start, Headlight, tail lights, drum brakes. No electric starter, Air cooled. Gets about 65 to 70 mpg.
The bike design hasn't really changed much since 1955. And it still looks like a 1950's bike. I figure I can work on it myself for most things. I guess I'm one of those overly independent types. Also if it breaks down in the middle of no where I figure I can fix it enough to get it somewhere. Mind you in England your never very far from a pub anyway.
The Royal Enfield has a certain amount of charm and a unique character to it. It's just a royal Enfield 350 or a Royal Enfield 500.
Not a THX1138JZ Hayabunga Uber dobber sports bike. Why can't motorcycles have simple names and not be named from a parts catalogue for Jet Engines?
In doing some more research I came across stories of people riding their Royal Enfields from Hong Kong to Scotland, and Germany to India. One rider, Gaurav Jani, made a great documentary about his solo ride from Mumbai to the Chnagthang Plateau in Ladakah, near the Chinese border.
Other people have done similar journeys but usually with much nicer BMW's which I can't afford.
Plus I just wanted a bike for riding the back roads of England. Trust me your not going to go very fast on the back roads so a speedy bike isn't a factor.
Looking on-line I found a few used Royal Enfields 350's for sale around £850 pounds. Problem was most were located far away, say near the Scottish border, and didn't have the MOT inspection done. MOT is roughly a “Do all the parts work” inspection that has to be renewed every year and has to be current before a bike can be driven on the road in England. It's also a good rough guide to if the bike is even in good condition.
If it's passed the MOT it at least runs and all the lights and brakes work....for the most part.....sometimes........at least until it's sold.
I got a hold of one Gentleman near London that had a Royal Enfield 350 for sale. Called him up and while he didn't have a current MOT he said he would get one over the weekend and I could come by Tuesday to pick it up. Great went out, bought a Helmet, Jacket and gloves.
As I was buying the helmet the clerk asked me what type of bike I was getting.
“I'm getting Royal Enfield”
His Eyes brows raised a few inches and his head nodded up and down a bit.
That was body language either saying
“Yes Sir, you have big brass ones, I salute you”
or “ahh silly American fool”
I'm still not sure which it was. I hope it was the former.
Monday morning got a call from the seller “Uhh.....yes......sorry old chap but I've decided to sell it to my neighbour, sorry about that...Bye.....bye”
As the locals are fond of saying …..Bugger.
Back to searching. Found another one close by and agreed to come by on Saturday to look it over and pick it up. Friday afternoon I get a call
“Sorry I've decided I'm going to be using it. But I have a friend who is 75 and he may be selling his”
I call up the 75 year old gentleman.
“Yes I may be selling my bike, at 75 I guess I'm getting a bit too old for kick start motorcycles”
You guess?? Going out a limb here but I bet he never had a Viagra prescription.
I'm starting a notice a strange reluctance of people to part with this particular type of motorcycle.
At the same time I discover that I had won an ebay bid on a 500cc Royal Enfield.
It was a bit more than I wanted to spend but still within my price range.
Plus a 500 can handle highway speeds a little better than a 350.
Well at least with a tail wind.
Now to go and look it over, buy it and ride it back.
About driving on the wrong side of the road on a 50 year old motorcycle design with the clutch on the wrong side.
About people, history and weird stuff and why things work, or on some cases don't.
Public transportation In England is wonderful.....when it works.
Even when it's not working it's still better than the public transportation in Los Angeles, which really doesn't even have public transport.
After 6 months of living in London as an American ex-pat I've discovered a few things.
The public transport is great if:
A) your not in a hurry
B) your very flexible in your time and route
C) you don't mind walking home after midnight.
Yes there are night buses and if you figure out the schedule you can probably do Quantum physics in your sleep.
There have been numerous times I have arrived at the tube station only to find that the connection I needed to take was "undergoing planned engineering works"
Or over heard messages like
"The Jubilee, Bakerloo, Northern, Metropolitan, Piccadilly, Circle and District, Victoria, Central, Hammersmith, Waterloo and City lines will be closed this weekend" and my favourite
"There will be a slight delay because there someone under the train ahead of us"
Gee don't spare me the gory details because I just had sushi.
Or better yet the drivers are all on Strike.......again.
I also found out the trains in England are great, you can get anywhere in the country by train. How you get around past the train station is bit of a problem.
It's wonderful if you have the time to walk though.
All of which lead me to the crazy idea of buying a motorcycle. Why a motorcycle? Well I can get one for less money than a car, insurance is cheaper and I don't have to go through the weirdness of learning how to drive on the right hand side.
A motorcycle is simpler to operate.
Stay on the left hand side, don't hit anything.
Plus I've driven motorcycles since I was 16. My last bike was a 1998 Virago 1100 Special. Great bike but it had the problem of having too small of a tank and gas mileage of a whopping 45 mpg. When the tank only holds 3.5 gallons you don't go very far. It also had an electrical problem that caused it to back fire that I was never able to solve permanently.
So the type of bike I wanted was something that was cheap, good gas mileage, easy to maintain, durable.
Doing some research I came across the Royal Enfield motorcycles. Royal Enfield was a English bike company from 1890 to 1971. They made bicycles, lawnmowers, engines and rifle parts. During WWII they made motorcycles for the British army. In the 1950's they received a large order of 800 bikes to supply to the government of India. It was decided that it was more economical to built the bikes in India so a shop was set up in Chennai, India.
The Royal Enfield is about as dirt simple as a motorcycle can get. Two tires, seat, Single 350cc cylinder, kick start, Headlight, tail lights, drum brakes. No electric starter, Air cooled. Gets about 65 to 70 mpg.
The bike design hasn't really changed much since 1955. And it still looks like a 1950's bike. I figure I can work on it myself for most things. I guess I'm one of those overly independent types. Also if it breaks down in the middle of no where I figure I can fix it enough to get it somewhere. Mind you in England your never very far from a pub anyway.
The Royal Enfield has a certain amount of charm and a unique character to it. It's just a royal Enfield 350 or a Royal Enfield 500.
Not a THX1138JZ Hayabunga Uber dobber sports bike. Why can't motorcycles have simple names and not be named from a parts catalogue for Jet Engines?
In doing some more research I came across stories of people riding their Royal Enfields from Hong Kong to Scotland, and Germany to India. One rider, Gaurav Jani, made a great documentary about his solo ride from Mumbai to the Chnagthang Plateau in Ladakah, near the Chinese border.
Other people have done similar journeys but usually with much nicer BMW's which I can't afford.
Plus I just wanted a bike for riding the back roads of England. Trust me your not going to go very fast on the back roads so a speedy bike isn't a factor.
Looking on-line I found a few used Royal Enfields 350's for sale around £850 pounds. Problem was most were located far away, say near the Scottish border, and didn't have the MOT inspection done. MOT is roughly a “Do all the parts work” inspection that has to be renewed every year and has to be current before a bike can be driven on the road in England. It's also a good rough guide to if the bike is even in good condition.
If it's passed the MOT it at least runs and all the lights and brakes work....for the most part.....sometimes........at least until it's sold.
I got a hold of one Gentleman near London that had a Royal Enfield 350 for sale. Called him up and while he didn't have a current MOT he said he would get one over the weekend and I could come by Tuesday to pick it up. Great went out, bought a Helmet, Jacket and gloves.
As I was buying the helmet the clerk asked me what type of bike I was getting.
“I'm getting Royal Enfield”
His Eyes brows raised a few inches and his head nodded up and down a bit.
That was body language either saying
“Yes Sir, you have big brass ones, I salute you”
or “ahh silly American fool”
I'm still not sure which it was. I hope it was the former.
Monday morning got a call from the seller “Uhh.....yes......sorry old chap but I've decided to sell it to my neighbour, sorry about that...Bye.....bye”
As the locals are fond of saying …..Bugger.
Back to searching. Found another one close by and agreed to come by on Saturday to look it over and pick it up. Friday afternoon I get a call
“Sorry I've decided I'm going to be using it. But I have a friend who is 75 and he may be selling his”
I call up the 75 year old gentleman.
“Yes I may be selling my bike, at 75 I guess I'm getting a bit too old for kick start motorcycles”
You guess?? Going out a limb here but I bet he never had a Viagra prescription.
I'm starting a notice a strange reluctance of people to part with this particular type of motorcycle.
At the same time I discover that I had won an ebay bid on a 500cc Royal Enfield.
It was a bit more than I wanted to spend but still within my price range.
Plus a 500 can handle highway speeds a little better than a 350.
Well at least with a tail wind.
Now to go and look it over, buy it and ride it back.
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