The Royal Enfield has to be the most iconic of motorcycle brands in India and has to be the one of the few brands that have a cult following bordering on fanatic worship. I on the other hand owned a Royal Enfield once and I hated it. Fanboys tend to chalk up all the shortcomings of the brand to adding “character” to the motorcycle. All I could see was a slow, heavy, inefficient, outdated, lumbering piece of metal.
I was that guy who always had grease of his pants and dirt under his nails, I loved tinkering but the Royal Enfield 500 was complete pain to begin with. I get the old school charm, it does feel like you are riding on a cushion but then again, you can’t really go too fast on them. They have this unhurried way of ambling around everywhere and from someone who was used to lightweight 2-stroke oil burning pocket rockets, this was beyond my understanding as to why one would put themselves through the ordeal of owning one of these.
In the little time I owned one of them, the battery went flat, it leaked oil all over the parking lot, its brakes would fade faster than me trying to disappear when I saw one the girls I never called back. It had a reasonably sized fuel tank but thanks to its superbly inefficient engine, it meant stopping for fuel every couple of 100kms. The tires were useless, it didn’t turn too well, it weighed a ton, oh and I forgot to mention, the exhaust fell off on my first ever trip with the motorcycle. It used to vibrate all the nuts and bolts off the chassis and finding parts missing or hanging off were a common sight for me after any long ride. In short – I hated it. Truly madly and deeply hated it with every living fibre of my living soul.
I ended up short-changing myself when I had to sell but I was more than glad to get rid of that stinking piece of machinery. I ended up buying myself another one of those pocket rockets and I have been reasonably happy with the way it has treated me until now. 70,000kms and counting of touring around the country and I’m glad that it was more sweat shed than tears which was a welcome relief for me.
Very recently I took one of the newer Royal Enfields, the Continental GT for a short ride, I liked it quite a bit but the Sales Manager at the store didn’t let me go flat out so I didn’t realise its full potential until later. A couple of my buddies decided to go for a short breakfast ride, about 80kms from the city and I joined in. One of them had recently acquired the GT and on the way back I ended up switching motorcycles with him. The plan was to switch back once we reached the city.
I had gotten used to the very upright seating position on my motorcycle and the exaggerated riding position of the GT took me some time to settle in. Café racers, they tend to grow on you. After a short blast on the highway at a decent cruising speed, I was pretty surprised with the way the bike worked together. It was a Royal Enfield, it was still vibrating all the parts off, it was still grossly inefficient but this time around it turned and stopped just the way I wanted it to, there was some brake fade but not as bad as I thought it would be.
We halted right before the city limits but I didn’t want to give up the bike just yet. I handed over my registration documents and told him that I was going to keep his bike for a few days. I headed home for the first time in years on a motorcycle that did not belong to me. I snaked my way through the dense city traffic but for some reason found myself back on the highway. I decided to keep riding for some more time and very soon was a good 150kms from where I first started. I checked my GPS and found a lake nearby and decided to ride to it. The entire area was more or less deserted except for some stray cattle. Riding through the narrow winding country roads made me, in a way, understand what people meant by character. I was riding slower than I usually did. I didn’t feel as hurried but at the same time I finally felt a connection with a brand that I had grown to hate.
I sat by the lake and lit myself a cigarette, the GT was beautiful, it looked good even when it wasn’t moving. Sex on wheels would be an apt depiction. I picked up my jacket and helmet and started walking towards the bike and I noticed a nut that was a little loose. There wasn’t a toolkit on the bike so I just tightened it as much as I could and started the bike. Once I got out of the country roads and on to the highway, I was in a mood for some spirited riding and started belting through the gears, the chassis on the GT never ceased to amaze me. I felt bad for giving it all the undeserving hatred. I soon realised though that even with the brilliant chassis, suspension and brakes, the engine was a let-down. It was a million times better than the one I had owned a couple of years back. Oodles more of torque and power but the weak link was the fucking clutch. After about an hour of running it through its paces it started to slip and soon I ended up with false neutrals.
I nursed it back home. Once I was safely in my driveway, I checked the engine oil, it was burnt. Classic mineral oil, I wanted to drain it but since I just had the bike for a few days, I decided to just drain a little of it and topped it off with some fresh engine oil. Once that was done the little grease monkey in me could not stay caged any longer, I brought out my tool kit and set about fixing everything I could on the bike, I reduced the play on the clutch, adjusted the claw shifter for more precise gear changes, tightened up the cone set and finally did a onceover retightening all the visible bolts.
I took it out for another short spin later the same day, it felt better or maybe it was just a placebo effect my tinkering. I wrists and back was sore from the stretched out riding position but I did get a kick out of it. A few days later I returned the motorcycle and got Fojan back. What he said then was the perfect description of what was running through my mind “The GT is like this hot chick that you would want to cheat on with your wife but in the end, you go back to your wife.” I still hate Royal Enfield but I now hate the GT a little less than the rest of them.
One Knee Down 