In America, a Royal Enfield's nearside is the other side

This is a blog about Royal Enfield motorcycles in the United States, but I frequently find myself quoting Royal Enfield owners who are British.

One of them once commented that he was surprised to read what he'd said and find himself speaking "in American."

I realized then that I do tend to translate what I hear into American-speak.

There are spelling differences, of course, but words and phrases differ in meaning as well between Britain and the U.S.

Two landmines I avoid are the words "nearside" and "offside."

It took me a long time just to grasp that, in Britain, these refer to the respective sides of a motor vehicle, especially a motorcycle. They have nothing to do with how close you are to it, or which side you get off it.

In Britain, "nearside" refers to the side of a vehicle nearest the kerb (curb). The side of a vehicle farthest from the kerb (curb) is the "offside."

Makes perfect sense — if we agree where the kerb (curb) should be. We don't.

If you drive on the right, as we do in the United States, the nearest curb is on the other side.

So, instead of nearside and offside, I use "left side" and "right side." I realize this can be confusing as well, so I try to always add "facing forward."

Someone in Britain might be justified in asking if my face isn't just generally on the forward side of my body.

You know what I mean.

Moped Archive compiles data on Britain's oddest lot

An item on the Red Devil Motors blog recently pointed me toward the online Moped Archive.

Started by Andrew Pattle in 1999, the Moped Archive claims it "now contains more than a thousand articles about cyclemotors, autocycles, mopeds and similar feeble machinery."

You will be startled by the long list of machines, from the Aberdale Autocycle ("more assault course than autocycle") to the Zundapp 408 (with its remotely controlled cycle bell inside the headstock).

The articles it archives, many by author Mark Daniels, provide an exhaustive examination of mopeds and similar doubtful transportation devices, as they appeared in Great Britain. (Vehicles from all nations are included in the archive, however.)

But who even cares about mopeds? Especially, British mopeds which, one concludes from reading the archives, were generally terrible, unsuccessful and short-lived?

I emailed Pattle and Daniels to ask.

"I always had an interest in small bikes/mopeds, though generally was more involved with big bikes (including Royal Enfield big twins)," Daniels wrote me.

"I had several Meteor 700s, Meteor Minor 500, Constellation, Interceptors, and finally a Rickman Metisse Interceptor.

"My big bike days became somewhat compromised by a disc collapse in my back, so I started to involve myself more with smaller machines which were more manageable.

"I'd got rather tired with reading much the same old articles about the usual big bikes, and nobody seemed to be doing anything on small bikes, which often have more interesting and untold stories to tell. So I started promoting these by researching and writing articles on them in an effort to improve the pool of knowledge about lesser know makes and smaller bikes."

Pattle started the archive in 1999 and had to spread it over two websites, as the first one became overstuffed. The two websites are extensively linked and there are links from old articles to updates. What thoroughness!

The archive is related to Iceni CAM Magazine, an e-magazine about Cyclemotors, Autocycles and Mopeds (CAM, get it?), run by Pattle and Daniels that you can download for free.

The authors of the articles archived by Pattle actually track down the owners of the machines and conduct road tests. There's a lengthy report on many, dealing with extremely technical matters of how these miserable little polluters eke out their (on a good day) 20 mph.

Some of the makes the archive covers had production runs of only a handful; many will be unfamiliar to you. Safe to say, few were widely mourned.

Mark Daniels is an amusing writer, and hardly gentle with the iffy products he tests. One U.S. moped, the 1979 Indian AMI-50 Chief, "turned out to be a rubbish copy from the original Honda design," he writes.

Britain's Ambassador moped was remarkably stylish...

...perhaps because it was based on Finland's Solifer moped.

What especially turns these guys on is discovering, for instance, that the obscure British Ambassador moped was in fact a modified production of a design from Finland.

Daniels triumphantly discovers that a raven black example of the British Ambassador is showing red (like the Finnish moped) under its black paint.

Wonders! This finally explains why the black British bike oddly features a red seat cover!

The pursuit of solutions to mysteries like these have kept fans of Sherlock Holmes on the trail for eons. The Moped Archive holds just such pleasures for anyone who loves British bikes and British humor

Will we ever forget why we love British motorcycles?

A Triumph Daytona, obscured by a fence.

Triumph Bonnevilles are the featured class for the 10th Annual Dania Beach Vintage Motorcycle Show Saturday, Jan. 30, 2016 in Frost Park, Dania Beach, Fla.

Will the day come when we forget that British motorcycles were ever anything special?

Perhaps even those who buy Royal Enfield motorcycles will forget the name originated in Britain, and associate the brand only with India.

After all, far more Royal Enfields have been built in India than Redditch ever imagined. And England's final jewel in the crown, the Royal Enfield Interceptor, went out of production 45 years ago.

British brands in general slipped from dominance of the world motorcycle market a long time ago. The final "glory years" for made-in-Britain motorcycles were years of riding on reputation.

Even if  reliability did improve at the end, no other nation's motorcycles have forged such a lasting link to leaking oil and lousy electronics.

The world's attention span might have withered even earlier if the Rocker and cafe racer culture hadn't combined to give British motorcycles one last burst of excitement back in the Swingin' Sixties.

If the social upheavals that fueled the youth rebellion of the 1960s had come, say, 20 years later, the Rockers might have been riding Japanese motorcycles. (They would presumably have been a lot less grease stained as a result.)

I turned recently to the book "The History of British Bikes," by Roland Brown. This is a 1999 book, picked up at a bargain on the Internet.

The History of British Bikes.

The author, however, is a respected motor journalist, who introduces himself this way:

"Roland Brown's first proper motorcycle was an elderly 650cc Triumph Bonneville. Although it broke down on his first ride and again on many other occasions, it triggered a life-long love of British bikes."

He opens his book by cheering the rebirth of Triumph and looks forward to a bright future for British brands — but not renewed dominance. The unspoken message of this history book, naturally, is that the past is the reason we love British bikes.

As for Royal Enfield, Brown's book mentions the made-in-India Bullet but concentrates on the spiffier Royal Enfield Constellation, a big, powerful twin he calls "fast but flawed."

Naturally, the book celebrates the technological pioneers among British motorcycles and the glory they won.

And what stories they are: Rem Fowler, riding a Norton in the very first TT event on the Isle of Man in 1907, spent so much time changing tires, drive belts and and spark plugs that he decided to quit — only to be informed by a spectator that he was leading the race by half an hour. He went on to win his class.

But there is also a guilty pleasure in considering the "what ifs" and "if onlys" of history. I like these even better.

If British motorcycles didn't leak like a "Royal Oilfield" then they had mediocre brakes (Ariel Leader), fragile valve gear (ABC), were swallowed up by corporations (AJS, BSA), or killed off by war (Brough Superior, Levis, New Imperial).

The wonderfully named Douglas Dragonfly was "heavy, expensive and not particularly fast." The James firm's concentration on lightweight motorcycles made it particularly vulnerable to the leading edge of Japanese imports.

When the British motorcycle industry presented a Sunbeam S7 to World War II Field Marshall Bernard Montgomery at the London Motor Cycle Show of 1948, the firm's stand collapsed. The industry just never got a break.

Even when they were awful, British motorcycles were memorable. Motorcycles from England and the failed British motorcycle industry itself are likely to remain worthwhile reminders of what can go wrong as well as what can go right.

As long as people ride on two wheels, these stories will remain just too precious to forget.

British motorcycles went on as British Empire went out

No prettier ode to British motorcycles and the Royal Enfield in particular has been written than K.C. Hong's column, "My Bike And I," in the The New Sunday Times of peninsular Malaysia on Feb. 17, 1991.

It's entitled "Memories Are Made of These" and you can read it at this link.

The piece is the kind of gentle reminiscence once favored in Sunday newspapers the world over, recalling some imagined better time — this one in the late 1940s, when British motorcycles, the envy of the world, danced before a young man's eyes.

Far from their native land, the motorcycles nevertheless spoke a universal language, and were appreciated in independent countries that might have otherwise despised the Empire that had brought them to their shores. Royal Enfield is just one brand of many the author remembers fondly.

Here's just a bit of it:

"Nam Teik Company owned by the late Mr. Lau Hun Chiong sold the Royal Enfields. The single 350cc Royal Enfield Bullet sold fairly well (these machines are still made in India today).

"A ponderous machine the Bullet could amble like a circus-horse at five mph on its fourth gear without jerking. Like the Matchless motorcycle it had a mellifluous exhaust note.

"In 1979 I took a taxi from Madras Harbour to the Ashoka Hotel. I thought I heard something very familiar. Sat up to see. Oh, man alive! The sound and sight of a gleaming Royal Enfield Bullet made the same way it was made in the late '40s.

"I told the cab man, Mahboob, to follow the bike. Looking at the bike made me young again. A darn good feeling. As we turned to get to the hotel I watched the bike move away.

"Happiness is the harvest of a quiet eye..."

BBC documentary: When British motorcycles ruled

What accounts for the lasting appeal of British motorcycles?

"By the 1950s, British motorbikes were the fastest, most desirable thing on two wheels anywhere in the world."

So begins "Full Throttle: The Glory Days of British Motorbikes," a splendid recent BBC documentary on British motorcycles. It has it all: racing at Brooklands and the Isle of Mann, Lawrence of Arabia, the Brough Superior, wartime service, the Ace Cafe, the rockers, ton-up boys, juke boxes and leather jackets.

The video came to my attention recommended by Royal Enfield enthusiast Chris Overton, who called it "some people's roots."

British riders of the 1960s helped create the legend of the motorcycle rebel, the documentary states as it opens. But it goes on to explain that the roots go far deeper than that: "for more than 40 years, British motorbikes ruled the world."

Early British motorcycles were dodgy affairs, but the roads were worse — "little more than goat tracks."

T.E. Lawrence called them "unfit roads." And by his time at least some of the horses were gone, replaced by motor vehicles.

Earlier riders not only contended with unpredictable horses on the road, and the muck they left behind, but with teamsters who were as likely to use the whip on a motorcyclist as they were to wave.

Ex-soldiers, who'd learned to ride in World War I, weren't dissuaded. At least, now, no one was shooting at them.

Bad roads improved the breed, racing refined it further and, when roads improved, British riders were ready. Fired by caffeine and rock'n'roll they turned having a fast and stylish motorcycle into a cult.

It's one that refuses to go away. "Full Throttle: The Glory Days of British Motorbikes" suggest there's a reason for that. British motorcycles represented the spirit of fun, coolness and rebellion for so long it became lasting.

It wasn't just about the cafe racers. The enthusiasm of Lawrence, the bravery of Isle of Mann racers, the patriotism of the Dispatch Riders, and the independence and style of the ton-up boys left a legacy.

Produced and directed by Andy Hall, narrated by John Hannah, it is well worth watching:

Royal Enfield Bullet a reminder of college days

Does this Royal Enfield remind you of your college days?

Royal Enfield Bullet For Rent: $150.

That's the headline on a CraigsList ad in Bellevue, Wash.

"Relive your college days; go for a ride on this beautiful Bullet," the ad suggests.

It goes on to list a sliding scale of rates for rentals up to 14 days or more.

The photo is of a shiny, black, 350cc Bullet with solo seat.

The motorcycle does not remind me very much of the beleaguered MGA sports car I had in college. (In comparison, I suspect the Bullet would be much more reliable.)

Still, it's true that all Royal Enfields are time machines. I asked the advertiser for more information. Dhruv replied:

"I am a private individual who rents every now and then to make ends meet; it's my own machine and this is the only one I have. I did have one in my college days and have been an ardent fan ever since."

British motorcycles Press on Regardless, Part 2

One of the delights in writing about a Brit-style motorcycle like the Royal Enfield is frequent Internet encounters with intrepid people around the world engaged in riding, restoring and just going above and beyond to celebrate and enjoy their motorcycles.

India, the United States and the rest of the world are full of dauntless individuals. But, surely, the British Isles themselves and the associated islands of New Zealand and Australia excel in the category of "Press On, Regardless."

No clearer recent example of "never say die" comes to us via the Barnstormers NZ website. The site was hacked, leading to this defiant response:

"Well, as you can see the site looks somewhat different.

"And there’s no content…

"Well for the past month we’ve been getting hacked and we’ve been getting a little sick of it so we are taking a wee break to see if the new software stands up to the onslaught before recommencing the Barnstomers site. We do have backups of the old site so eventually all the old content will be returned.

"...It's a real shame that some spotty geek, who’s got bored with coitus with his pets, and while his mum is out honing her negotiable affection skills, has decided to trawl the Internet to find out how to hack a Wordpress site and set about doing this to show off to his six fingered inbred mates.

"Nice. And clever too, such obvious use of a search engine and a quick download of someone else’s hacking software has kept him happy for another day and made him a real employment prospect. And what did he gain? Was it all the credit card details we didn't have?

"...So please be patient, we will be back... And if we get hacked again? I guess we’ll just carry on anyway and rebuild.

"Don't let the Barstards grind you down.

"Knobby"

Good show! Cached versions of the Barnstormers NZ site show their sense of humor to advantage.

British motorcycles just "Press On, Regardless"

This "Flying Crate" style motorcycle evokes wonder.

Artist Ian Cater has a gift for capturing the heart of great motorcycles, including Royal Enfields. He recently emailed this photo of the astounding "hand built" motorcycle above, with the following explanation:

"I was at a 'Ton Up Day' on Sunday at the Brooklands Museum, which is housed in the remains of the legendary Brooklands banked race track a bit west of London. It had its heyday in the 1920s and '30s. A number of historic racing machines of the day were being given a blast up their hill climb track, among them this home made 'beauty' first raced in about 1928.

"I contend that only an Englishman could have built something like this and seriously entered it in competition. Frenchmen looking on would have shrugged and rolled their eyes, Italians would have collapsed with laughter, Germans scoffed with utter disbelief.

"Mind you, those streamlined wheels were probably far ahead of their time, even if the execution was a bit shabby. But this is the stuff that made Britain nearly great during most of the 20th Century, a would-be world beater typically fashioned from a random collection of bits of other things, assembled for almost no money and ridden by a bloke called Blenkinsop or Merryweather.

"Fair makes you proud..."

Searching the web, it appears the machine was created by Doug Earle as a replica of a Cotton with a 1928 JAP speedway motor that would have raced the outer circuit before Brooklands became a defense factory site for World War II.

Why I won't ride your Royal Enfield Interceptor: Really!

The Royal Enfield Interceptor was advertised as "A real pleasure to ride."

If someone offered to let you ride their beautifully restored Royal Enfield Interceptor, would you accept?

Not me. Am I crazy?

Who wouldn't love to enjoy the fabled power of the Interceptor, the open road ahead and the envious stares of fellow bikers?

Besides, as a pilot once told me, "the best plane to fly is somebody else's airplane." Let somebody else pick up the cost of gas and the liability for a mistake.

Well, here is the reason I won't do that: I love looking at motorcycles, especially the lovely (or at least very interesting looking) British motorcycles of the past.

But you can't see the motorcycle you're riding.

My pal, screenwriter and wit Douglas Kalajian, did a stint selling cars, including used cars. He still speaks rapturously of a product called Star brite, an automobile polish that produces an easy, fast shine.

"You do the hood first, because that's the part the driver sees (during a test drive)," he explained.

A motorcycle has no hood. Past the charming binnacle of my Royal Enfield Bullet there is nothing to see but scenery.

In contrast, at a motorcycle show I'm free to feast my eyes upon each lovely machine and even take pictures. Unlike motorcars, motorcycles put most of their workings on open display, to be enjoyed.

I love trying to sort out the solutions their makers evolved. One modest example: I'm always curious what more practical solutions nearly every maker had for adjusting the chain, compared to my Bullet's whimsical clam shell adjusters.

So, call me crazy. Also, call me cautious. The other reason I won't ride your Interceptor is that there is no way I am going to match my modest skills to your immodestly powerful motorcycle. If I can't ride it the way it was intended then what's the sense in puttering about?

British cars and motorcycles grace Rodeo Drive 90210

Happy Father's Day: My daughter Erin poses in front of a Berkeley sports car.

"Are these childrens' cars?" my wife Bonnie asked.

I've written about Berkeley sports cars, some of which were powered by Royal Enfield motorcycle engines. But I'd never actually seen one until Bonnie and my daughter Erin took me to the "British Are Coming" car and motorcycle show on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, Calif. on Father's Day.

They are really small. Erin stood in front of the Berkeley at the show to demonstrate. It made the original Minis beside it look reasonably sized. Quite a trick.

We'd gone to see the British motorcycles, of which there were only 19, but I couldn't resist looking at the cars, too. Check out the pictures below from the 2012 Rodeo Drive Concours D'Elegance:

Aston Martin was the featured marque: "Destored" DB2.

Your author photographs a 1928 Brough Superior.

A curious spot for an oil cooler.

The headlight nacelle was your dashboard: 1961 Norton Dominator.

Ready to ride.

1913 Triumph barn find was only one that didn't glisten.

Ariel Square Four motor in a 1953 Norton frame.

That British attitude is evident in every vehicle.

Rodeo Drive, storied shopping street.

1913 Triumph luggage: just big enough for your tools.

1947 Triumph 1800; did it shine like this when it was new?

The winner, a 1926 Scott Flying Squirrel once owned by Steve McQueen.

What motorcycle sang along with the Shangri-Las?

A Matchless motorcycle and rider posed with the Shangri-Las for an album cover,
but what motorcycle do you hear on "Leader of the Pack"?

Can you tell by its sound what kind of motorcycle you're hearing? The "thump" of the Royal Enfield Bullet is famous in India and Americans have all heard the "potato-potato" sound of the Harley Davidson V-twin. But what about the sound of the motorcycle revving up on The Shangri-Las' 1964 hit song "Leader of the Pack"?

"I would dearly love to know what make/model of motorcycle was used for the sound effects," wrote Bill, a member of the Yahoo Intercepter Owners Discussion Group.

"Music writers are pretty vague as to whether an effects record was used or a bike was brought in to the studio and recorded. In one pretty authoritative place it is claimed to be a Harley. To my ear it is definitely not a Harley but a British twin. It doesn't seem to have the bark of an Enfield and I can't quite believe it is a Triumph.

"What does the group think?" he asked.

The suggestions (or are they guesses?) came fast:

"Certainly a parallel twin, those that say it's a Harley clearly know nothing about bikes!"

"It sounds like a large twin to me, 500cc or over and a bit too throaty to be Japanese. Not sure how good the Japanese penetration in to the U.S. market was in 1964."

"It's the top-end jangle of an OHC engine on the overrun that I hear, hence my suggestion of a Honda. As to market penetration, I think you'll even find Elvis riding a Honda in his (dire) film 'Roustabout'!"

"I think it is a 180-degree Honda twin (305cc?). If you listen carefully you can hear the off beat running of the Honda motor."

"I agree: I'd always been of the opinion that it was some180-degree twin, and Hondas are the most common example. Certainly not a Harley, although that might be more glamorous in some circles."

John G. Sullivan, of Austin, Texas, gave the most complete response to the question so far:

"It sounds like a fairly large displacement British vertical twin — most likely a BSA or Triumph (most common at the time). Does not sound like a Harley Davidson nor Honda. If I recall correctly, the biggest Honda in 1964 was 305cc. It does not sound like one to me. And a little later (1970s) my brother had a Honda 350 and 450."

What do YOU think? Play the snippet below (turn UP your speakers to hear it) and leave a comment with your opinion.

Spotting Royal Enfields in Britain a bit of a challenge

Royal Enfield motorcycle spotted outside the British Museum, London.

Unspoken during our visit to the United Kingdom recently was whether or not we would see any Royal Enfield motorcycles.

My wife Bonnie had graciously offered to get us to Redditch, birthplace of Royal Enfield, during our visit. But I replied that the walking tour of Royal Enfield sites there had been so well done by Jorge Pullin in his My Royal Enfields blog that I felt as though I had already been to Redditch.

We would, apparently, content ourselves with the duty of all American tourists to make sure that the Houses of Parliament and the Tower of London were still right where we had left them in 1776, and that English cooking was no better.

Standing at Westminster Bridge I was admiring our timing in ensuring that we would not hear Big Ben ring during our visit when — YES! — a Royl Enfield hove into view. Its rider, in black leather and full-face helmet, scurried between cars and around two buses.

"I've got to get a picture!" I shouted, but the light changed before I could capture a real Royal Enfield in the real Britain, with the Houses of Parliament in the background.

Things were different, later, just as we concluded our visit to the British Library one chilly day. We were there to make sure that the Magna Carta is still in force (largely no, it isn't, as it turns out; but you can see it there). Through the plate glass windows of the Library I spotted a Royal Enfield, its rider clad in — shorts.

"I guess the English don't think it's cold out," I mused, as I snapped a picture. I now had what we'd come for, I figured.

The truth was, the frenetic London traffic lent itself better to scooters, which were everywhere. None were done up like the scooters of the '60s, ridden by the Mods, festooned with lights and mirrors. But I was able to capture a picture of this one, with mannequin astride, in the window of Cool Britannia, a souvenir shop for tourists in Piccadilly.

Even the Mods would have been too cool to ride this scooter.

Phony? Yes. No worse than the sausages that came with with the "Full English Breakfast" though.

Mods vs. Rockers event sounds cool

British motorcycles are just way cooler than Japanese or American motorcycles. In the case of the Royal Enfield (designed in Britain, built today in India), that obviously doesn't have anything to do with speed, cost or even reliability.

Maybe the reason is that there is just something cool about England.

Royal Enfield motorcycles naturally appeal to Anglophiles (Anglophile: n. a person who greatly admires England or anything English). Americans have been used to admiring things English since the Beatles, at least.

Still, it amazes me that Anglophiles will gather here in Fort Lauderdale, Florida Saturday, for a "Mods vs. Rockers" event. They'll meet at 9 a.m. at the local Vespa shop at Northeast 26th Street and U.S. 1, then, at 10 a.m., ride through the local beach communities. There's a bike show starting at 2 p.m. at Cinema Paradiso, 503 SE 6th St., and the day concludes there with a screening of the movie Quadrophenia.

The event is typically American: the ride is a poker run, with prizes, and there are trophies and a "people's choice" award in the judged bike show. Participants are encouraged to recreate the look of the rockers (leather and motorcycles) and mods (scooters and Pierre Cardin).

The event's web site helpfully includes a link to a BBC site offering an explanation of who the Mods and Rockers were, and how they famously clashed at British seaside resorts in the early 1960s.

I am old enough to remember seeing television coverage of those riots. Young people will fight about anything, the BBC explains, and the driving energy of new money, new mobility and new music must have supplied the enthusiasm.

The music of the British Invasion and the Who hit the beaches in the U.S. shortly afterward. It was wonderful music, but I don't remember that it was accompanied by too much interest in Italian scooters or rioting.

British motorcycles, though, I do remember sighting. And they were cool.

If you'd like to attend the event, here is a note on parking from organizer Louise Dutton: "If folks are trailering their bikes to the poker run they can park in the Coral Ridge shopping plaza, which is about a half mile north at Oakland Park Boulevard and U.S. 1. Folks only trailering to the bike show will have to unload their bikes and find parking elsewhere. There are a lot of paid parking meters in the area and a garage down the street. The cinema said they could accommodate one or two trailers but that's all."