It had always been difficult to encounter cold mornings in Chennai. Even when a major portion of the country used to experience cold waves, Chennai had been cool and pleasant during peak winter. But this year, Chennaites had experienced temperatures much lower than usual like the rest of the country. I was getting a first hand feel of this cold as I stepped out of my house and a light breeze blew against my face. I put my hood on and proceeded to lock my front door even as the streaking rays of the breaking dawn reflected off the front door lock.
I got into my 2004 Zen, the year here being of utmost importance as that is the differentiator to know that this was one among the last of the cars worthy enough to carry the name made legendary by Maruti; sadly only to give it off later by tagging ‘Estilo’ to it. As my wife sat in next to me, I knew that this was not the way we had planned to do this ride with my friends. We had planned to take my Unicorn to keep company with the R15 and Pulsar 220 that my friends would bring. But my bike’s brakes had been acting funny over the past few days which prompted me to take the Zen instead.
These rides that we had on Sunday mornings were not uncommon. We friends meet up early, hit the ECR and keep riding without a destination or duration in mind. But on this particular day, we had a couple of invitees joining us for the ride. One had a 2011 Royal Enfield Classic 350 and the other a decade year old Royal Enfield Bullet Electra. We were looking forward to knowing how the addition of these two members would alter the equation of the ride where we members frequently switched bikes as we rode along. That we switched bikes was the reason I had asked my wife’s brother to accompany us. He could help me out by taking over the driving duties of the ZEN when I wanted to get on a bike. And since he wasn’t a bike guy he was more than happy to be able to drive the ZEN.
We met at our usual roadside tea shop, where the Classic and the Electra were waiting for us, before moving together towards ECR. By now the Sun was out fully and the sea breeze was cold and fresh enough to twitch my ear tips. I realised that I was enjoying the drive in the ZEN as much as I would have liked the ride in the Unicorn.
Unlike the others I wasn’t too keen on trying out the REs as much as I would want to ride the 220 and the R15. This was primarily because I had never been an RE man. I liked the company. I liked the bikes. I liked the history and tradition. But I never felt the need for an association with them. I had tried their bikes on occasions earlier and I was never actually ‘moved’. I was wondering if this was something to do with me or the bikes I had tried when a friend of mine told me that it might take sometime for these bikes to grown on you. “Maybe”, I had replied not bothering to delve any more into it. Maybe a stint on these bikes today might change a thing or two or better still, ‘move’ me, I wondered. I thought I will take the call as and when I get the opportunity to ride them.
The opportunity didn’t seem to come anytime soon. As expected by me, I found myself hearing the scream of a redlining R15 after the next bike/car switch happened. This bike had never failed to amaze me with the transition that it goes through as the revs climbed. The rate of transition of the bike’s character was directly proportional to the climbing revs, I sheepishly thought to myself. This time there were two beaming faces once the R15 leg was over. And it so happened that the smile on my pillion wife’s face was much wider than the one on my face. One more smitten by the R15.
This was when Pradeep decided that it was time to start taking pictures. And this gave me the opportunity to witness one of the many unique experiences that you would have if you had an RE.
It all started with me beginning to understand the reason behind Pradeep’s point as we were at a place which had sand and gleaming backwaters as its backdrop. And it would be nice to get pictures of the bikes against this backdrop. This also meant that the bikes will need to be brought as close to the waters on the sandy beach. Saurabh on the Electra and Selva on the Classic found a small path from the road through which they could reach closer to the water by treading through minimal distance in sand.
Once they were there, keeping the bikes erect in the centre stand was obviously a tricky proposition due to the sand. As Selva’s Classic sat gingerly on the centre, Saurabh’s elder Electra was more than content to lean on the side stand without losing out on any dignity in its stance. After a good fifteen minutes during which the photos were taken, we decided to proceed on. Saurabh, upon straightening his bike, bent down to check under its belly. We found petrol leaking so badly that it was almost like a trickle from a partially opened tap. I cupped my hands to collect the leaking petrol. Even though it would serve no purpose, I couldn’t bear to see the loss considering the current prices of petrol. I said aloud that it might take some time to start to let others know that we might have to stay at the place for some more time. Saurabh just had a, “It will start” as a reply to my comment. He pushed the decomp switch, gave a gentle kick, the bike roared back to life and proceeded to shovel sand at me still holding the evaporating petrol in my hands, looking on in utter disbelief. This bike had just mocked at me.
For the next leg, I decided that it was time I tried one of the REs. I hopped onto Selva’s Classic first as the others took their positions on the car and the bikes. The self starter was not as smooth as my Unicorn and it needed to be engaged for a slightly longer time for it to start. Once fired up, the metallic thud filled my ears and made me aware of the fact that I was on a Royal Enfield. Clutch, first gear, gradual release and I was away.
The perfect road and the sea shore are primary reasons why the ECR is so favoured among bikers. On that day, as I got to terms with the Classic 350, the ECR brought in a whole new meaning to me. As I curved my way through the empty winding roads, cool sea breeze blowing against me, my hands stretched out in the iconic majestic riding posture of the Bullet, I felt I rediscovered biking, all over again. This was it. This was what the Bullet had to do to make me feel like millions of others who live, eat and sleep by their Bullets. This was what RE was all about. I took a deep breath in recognition of this fact. I had been enlightened.
Every bike talks to you as you ride along. Some bikes request, some bikes dictate. The R15 for example dictates you to keep climbing higher, to go faster. The Unicorn suggests, “I can keep pulling you like this, but I would suggest you downshift once so that you are in a better power band”. The Bullet doesn’t request, suggest or dictate. In fact, it remains silent. But as they say, sometimes silence is stronger than words. The bike, in spite of remaining silent, lets you know what the best thing to do in it is. That is why I did not want to go beyond 80 KMPH. I just did not feel the need as it seemed perfect at this speed. The speed at which the landscape was brushing by was in perfect synchronization with the rhythm of the engine. It was absolute bliss, in all its essence.
After this leg, I had gotten a bit silent which I assume was due to the silent conversation I had had with the Bullet. Saurabh upon seeing me in this frame of mind chuckled and said, “Wait till you try mine.” I could understand what he was trying to say. If the newer ones were good enough for me, the older ones which were responsible for the creation of the legend of the RE should be one step ahead. But before I could try it, I wanted to refresh my mind again so that I can gauge the older bike afresh. And so, I got on the P220 FI.
Vroom and zip and I was doing 100 KMPH. The torque on this bike is mind boggling. Of course, the lack of sophistication unlike the R15 is evident. For example, at higher speeds the rear view mirrors are meaningless to look at due to the vibrations. But you wouldn’t give a damn about it. All you want to do is to feast on the loads and loads of torque that are being fed to you and channel all of those as unparalleled joy.
After some more pictures, I decided I had freshened up my mind and it was time to check out the Electra. I had taken it a bit too easy. I climbed on the bike and proceeded to kick start as there was no self start option. Only to have my leg kicked back with the ferocity of a wild animal. I winced at the pain at my ankle. The mutual introduction with the Electra was done, though the return compliment felt more like a taste of things to come.
This meant I had to undergo a tutorial first. Saurabh explained to me about how much the play of the gears is, where exactly the sweet spot is where you can engage the gear, how to gradually open up the throttle etc. And also about how it is always good if you are new to the bike to decomp before kicking. The change of sides, right for gears and left for brakes did not bother me much. More so because the rear brakes were almost non-existent. Whatever braking this bike could do, it came from the front.
After having made myself acclimatised with the bike and its tantrums, I started. That’s one thing with these older REs. Each one had a different temperament, a different routine that you need to follow to warm up to her. And this one was slightly on the meaner side as was evident with the amount to physical effort I had to put to engage gears.
Each gear was a prize. A prize for your willingness to explore and for being adamant. And how well you were rewarded when you slot in the right gear. There was the sense of achievement and momentary victory. Even though I struggled my way up through gears and fought through minimal braking, I was smiling. The feel was intact. All the emotions that I had felt earlier were back, if not in a more pure and simpler form than ever before.
I did try the occasional brisk overtaking at times which it did with dismissive tenacity. But after the overtaking you are back doing what you want to do. Cruise in perfect harmony. This is a feeling that cannot be put together in words and is best left unexplained. I know that all the RE riders out there will understand what I mean.
The Electra was clearly more physical and felt more mechanical. Which was obvious with the cast iron engine when compared to the UCE on the Classic. The Classic had some of the rough edges polished and smoothened out with a bit of finesse. I have heard people say that the newer ones are not the same and that by making them more advanced they have made them more civilised. I can understand the point here. But we also need to understand that we cannot keep avoiding latest technological advancements and they deserve to be implemented to keep giving new leases of life to iconic products.
This is where RE has done a truly commendable job. The soul is intact. The feel can still be experienced. The respect that you would command from everyone else on the road is the same. The ownership experiences would be different, primarily because of the difference in the mechanicals. Maybe we can look at it this way. If both these bikes were wild animals, the older Electra would be a single male elephant out of its herd, ill tempered, reckless and throwing a tantrum if it is upset. The new Bullet would be the wild buffalo, which wouldn’t bother you and would take care of itself as long as you don’t mess with it. But on a day when you want to play the fool, both of them can kill you.
My brother in law who had been driving the Zen so far had the urge to take a ride at least as a pillion, after seeing my mood changes after riding the bikes. Saurabh took him on a short ride on the Electra and he came back silent. But with a smile that was not big enough to be called a laugh nor was small enough to be neglected. It was the smile of contentment. That of having been at peace with you, your body and your surroundings, through the sound of metallic thuds echoing off the horizons.
