A long way to go on a little Royal Enfield

A little Royal Enfield 250 faces a journey across Europe.

 Robert Murdoch is often quoted on this blog in his capacity as archivist for the Royal Enfield Owners Club (UK). 

Among other contributions, he shared with my readers the press clipping scrapbooks kept for decades by the Royal Enfield factory in Redditch, England. 

This winter he created some press clippings himself, as he wrote the story of his ride from Britain to Greece, and back, on his 1962 Royal Enfield Crusader 250. 

Real Classic magazine printed Bob's account in three parts, in its December to February editions. 

In many ways, his travelogue and photographs would not have been out of place in the old Motor Cycling magazines of the 1940s and '50s. Articles regularly memorialized adventures touring Wales, or France, on the Royal Enfield 125s and 250s of those days. 

With one difference.

Those long ago motorcycle voyagers admitted to no doubts. Their trust in Royal Enfield was all encompassing. Aside from having to, say, de-coke the motor (child's play for those guys), or navigate at night by the light of the moon when Lucas let them down, they acknowledged no worries at all.

Bob, on the other hand, occasionally admits to some anxiety.

His goal was to attend the REOC International Rally, held in Greece.

There was "the niggling uncertainty of completing a very long journey on an old bike," he wrote. The first installment of his three-part story was about preparations for the challenge, the better to avoid trouble.

Built for weather protection, not beauty. Period wind tunnel "testing" of the fairing was for publicity purposes only, Bob writes, and contributed nothing to streamlining. Note the slim fender Bob added, replacing the fat original.

His mount was a bit unusual -- an "Airflow Clipper," equipped with Royal Enfield's own sizeable fairing. Meant more for weather protection than streamlining -- or beauty -- the Airflow fairing came with an equally bulky front fender.

Altogether, the fiberglass added 30 extra pounds to the motorcycle. Luckily, a previous owner had replaced  the Clipper's econo-special motor with a motor from a Crusader Sports, making for a comforting 17 bhp.

Bike and motor were in bad shape when acquired, but Bob nursed the machine back to health and reliability over five years of commuting to work on it.

Even so, the bike now required fitting with a reinforced (by Bob) rack for luggage, and three-position rear shocks to carry the load. (Incredibly, the Clipper's original cheapo nonadjustable shocks were good only to carry a lone rider).

A test trip in Scotland went well until a massive traffic jam on the way home -- in sweltering heat. Overheated engine and rider were spared when motorists gave way to allow filtering through traffic -- possibly because the Airflow so resembled a police motorcycle!

Back in the shop, Bob decided the fat front fender would have to come off, to be replaced by a slim "sports" model, allowing added airflow to cool the motor. A side note: he knew that Royal Enfield had done this itself, when preparing sidecar Airflow models for testing by the press!

A very long way to go. Pins mark Bob's route.

The actual road trip began with sunny skies and soft winds, as they often do, only running into serious trouble when warm-weather avalanche danger closed all roads over the Alps in Switzerland.

The Alps! How's that for a road block?

The solution was simple but ingenious: getting on a train that used a tunnel.

But then there was a flat tire to be fixed, and mountains to climb (in second gear!). Cars cut in front of the slow motorcycle, not realizing that its vintage brakes were not "up" to mountain descents.

He traveled to Greece in the company of Jacqui Furneaux, the Royal Enfield motorcycle adventurer and author of the book "Hit the Road Jac!."

She rode her veteran India-made Royal Enfield Bullet 350, which proved better able to keep up the pace in the mountains, where Bob had to resort to heroic methods to maintain momentum on his 250. 

And then there were the worries: Oil consumption. The fast wearing tread on the rear tire. Ominous clouds and then thunderstorms. What about thieves when parked overnight in the cities?

"The worry of an inquisitive pedestrian fiddling with switches or removing toolbox contents, and thus ending my journey, was a far greater one than the possible theft of an unattractive fiberglass motorcycle," Bob wrote.

Robert Murdoch and the Royal Enfield Airflow 250 that sometimes got called "Flo."

He got to the rally, but joyful relief was not instantaneous.

"I'd ridden all this way (2,000 miles) with no major issues, yet the superstitious part of me imposed some emotional restraint, knowing that the return journey would be even longer."

He told himself, "Come on Bob! Relax a bit!"

So he did. And then, on the final day of the rally, he woke up with Covid.

He felt miserable. Well, no time like the present to replace that worn out rear tire!

It was a long way home, with challenges aplenty, but nothing our plucky traveler and his faithful steed could not surmount or, at least, ignore for the moment.

The travelogues of olde always ended on just such a happy note, with vows to do it all again next year.

But, here again, Bob admitted the obvious:

"The Greek trip will satisfy my long-distance dreams for quite a while and if I attempt a similar ride, I might treat myself to a classic motorcycle with few more than 17 bhp."

I asked him about those bikers of old. Were they made of sterner stuff, or were they sugarcoating their accounts to please the motorcycle manufacturers, whose ads supported the magazines that published them?

"Riding the journey would have been quite different years ago," he replied.

"Many European roads were mere dust tracks well within my riding lifetime, complete with horrendous holes and missing sections. However, there would have been a capable mechanic/garage in most towns, or at least a blacksmith who could improvise something to keep you going."