Tired of sitting still on repair job

Some things just can't wait.

 I struggle to write about Royal Enfield motorcycles but, face it, every so often (too often) the toilet needs fixing. 

And there goes a day of either riding, or maintaining my Royal Enfield Bullet. 

The one nice thing about fixing plumbing is that, if something goes wrong (it always does), it's just water pooling around your shoes, not gasoline. 

Parts are easy to find, too, because every home supply store has a selection of "Universal" one-size-fits-all toilet parts. Several different brands of them, in fact. 

Why?

If each of the choices is "Universal," why does the store need to stock more than one variety? Suspicion grows that, while my choice (always the cheapest) may fit every other toilet, it will not fit mine.

I remember, from previous episodes, that toilets feature a left-hand thread somewhere in their mechanisms. I just can't remember where. And, so, the first realization I have, as I struggle to loosen the old, worn out parts, is that I am going to have to read the instructions.

Memory alone is likely to betray me but, of course, I take that chance anyway and get to work.

Eventually, after struggling, and twisting and cursing for awhile, I do resort to the instructions. They're a bit vague on what I want to know (the people who write them are apparently under orders never to elaborate). But, after trying everything twice, both ways, and wiping up water from the floor a time or two, the old bits are out.

At this point, just out of curiosity, I typically fall victim to trying to figure out why the old parts failed. The autopsy nearly always discovers that, had I just read the instructions (saved from the last time I replaced these parts), I would have noticed the "Troubleshooting" section.

Indeed, here I find, now deep into the project, that it could have been fixed if I had simply grasped the right point of the mechanism with my left hand and twisted with the right.

I could have accessed the part causing the mechanism to jam. I could then have cleared the jam and reassembled the part.

But, never mind. Old or new, the bits have to go back together, so I naturally decide to use the brand new ones.

And it's here that I realize that, although, yes, I did go to the store and buy the "Universal" kit, I did not also buy the other parts required.

For instance, the tiny ring of metal to attach the flapper valve chain to the handle arm is not included in the "Universal" operating arm kit I bought. The little ring would have come with a new flapper valve, had I thought to purchase that.

And, so, I would have to use the tiny ring from the old parts I removed. No problem!

It's here that I discover that the old ring has dropped off the old arm somewhere between the toilet and throwing the old parts out into the garage. Neither I nor my wife, pressed into duty, can locate it by crawling around the floor.

And it's at this point that I realize that, although the toilet will be flushed with all new parts from here on in, the missing link in the mechanism -- that small ring -- will be replaced by the one truly universal part in life: a paper clip.

Paper clips hold much of my house together. Should it someday be knocked down by a hurricane, rescuers will comment that the paper clips must have failed.

And they will fail, for this terrible reason: paper clips used inside a toilet tank, or anywhere else except to clip paper, rust.

Using one in this instance will guarantee toilet failure someday, certainly right after someone has used the toilet in anger and really, really needs to flush.

I confess this left me a bit gleeful, as there is less than a 50-50 chance that that person will be me. (And only I will know what went wrong and where to put a new paperclip.)

So, now, finally, the toilet flushes, although perhaps not with the vigor and precise action that is preferred in the best homes.

Probably it could be adjusted? But not by me.

Because, during the protracted experience (hours long) I have sort of lost the plot. What was I trying to accomplish? Is it fixed? Or am I now just willing to live with whatever was the problem, just to get this over with?

I don't care.

Royal Enfield and the Secret of Magura

Magura twist grip and its "perch" have a secret.

 The members of The Unofficial Royal Enfield Community Forum diagnosed my problem almost instantly. They were so on the mark that they even caught me in a small lie. 

I asked what could have made the motor of my 1999 Royal Enfield Bullet run away, its rpm surging as I sat innocently at a stop light. 

"Are you absolutely sure you didn't touch anything? You didn't blip the throttle? Your hands were definitely off the bike? If so, then suddenly deciding to rev its nuts off entirely of its own volition is beyond weird," wrote forum member Steve Thackery. 

"If you did touch something, that would be very useful information for the diagnosis." 

Right on the money. I wasn't innocent. Sitting at the light I had felt the Bullet was idling a bit fast. I experimentally gave a tug on the throttle cable on its run from the twist grip to the nacelle. The Bullet immediately begun roaring.

I hadn't wanted to admit this clumsy move.

Forum members correctly suggested I check the twist grip. I did and, to my horror, found the throttle outer cable out of its socket on the outside of the twist grip assembly and the inner cable unwound and curled outside its housing.

I posted a photo of this on the forum. Members suggested buying a new cable and new controls.

This could be a problem for my Bullet, built in early 1999.

The handlebar controls on Royal Enfield Bullets manufactured 1988 to mid-1999 were made by Magura, a German company; Royal Enfield switched to made-in-India Minda controls for the Bullet in June, 1999. The old Magura gear has now been unavailable for many years.

Luckily, Hitchcocks Motorcycles sells a kit to replace the Magura controls with Minda versions, which are old themselves but still available.

"Swapping over to the 'newer' Minda hardware lets you keep ready access to current control cables, better levers and better electrics. Well worth the time and trouble," forum member AzCal Retred advised, helpfully. That is the kind of information that is really useful.

But wait: what if I could just fix my Magura twist grip? I decided to try. I already had an unused spare Magura style throttle cable.

Well, first, there didn't appear to be any way to connect my new throttle cable without removing the twist grip from the bike. (There is, but I would discover it only later. It's THE MAGURA SECRET.)

Twisting, tugging, sweating, and swearing finally got the twist grip to come off, in my hands. It was obvious now how to attach my new cable. The barrel shaped end tucks into a tight nook in the rubber grip and is held there.

But no amount of violence or dirty words would then convince the twist grip to reconnect to its "perch." The perch is the plastic module that holds the twist grip, the throttle cable, kill switch, rear brake light switch, front brake cable and lever, and rearview mirror.

My hoped for repair seemed doomed.

I finally found the answer, on the Myrons Mopeds website. (Apparently Magura throttles, of related but not identical design, were used on a variety of mopeds.)

THE SECRET: The twist grip will neatly snap onto the perch ONLY if both are OFF the handlebar! It is the handlebar itself that holds the assembly together.

If you are still with me here, you realize that I had only pulled the twist grip off; to get the perch off I would now have to disconnect the kill switch, throttle cable, front brake cable, and rear brake light switch. I could do all that, in time, in my garage.

Imagine having to do all that, and then reconnecting it all on the side of the road, just to swap in a new throttle cable. Impossible! What was Magura thinking?

Well they were thinking. And there is a way. I wouldn't even have had to remove the twist grip.

Silver throttle cable barrel is just visible if you peel back the rubber flange of the Magura twist grip.

Here is the incredible REST OF THE SECRET, again from Myrons Mopeds:

"Peel the flange of the grip there back with your thumb, and hold it there. With the other hand, place the sideways barrel end of the throttle cable into the cavity. Lay the wire over the ridge, and wrap it around the curved guide. When pulled taut it should fall into it’s groove. The throttle should pull the wire and move free."

Would you have thought of it? Just peel back the rubber grip and pull the old cable barrel out, all with the grip still in place. Then pop in the barrel of the new cable and let the carburetor spring pull the cable taught.

It works! But you had better have a needle-nose pliers in your toolkit if you ever need to do this by the side of the road.

I fixed my Royal Enfield until I broke it

Somehow I failed to see the throttle cable hanging loose. But what I did next was a bigger problem.

 Kids learn early to take care of their favorite toys. Parents teach us well. 

"If you break that, you won't get another," is the message a child receives when a parent wags a warning finger at misbehavior. 

Intentionally or not, they're teaching the value of things, and our responsibility for them. 

So I feel badly that I've let down my 1999 Royal Enfield Bullet. It's out of commission, thanks to me. 

Always present in my mind is the knowledge that this is the way many motorcycles end up: partially disassembled for some long ago forgotten problem, a repair that was never completed, or was botched in the attempt. 

They're pushed to the side of the garage and left to rust and rot.

After my Bullet revved uncontrollably while I waited for a stop light to change, I pushed it home. 

Anxious to find the problem, I twisted the grip and found it operated.

I removed and opened the carburetor, but it showed no sign of any problem.

I examined the points and the timing and found no problem. Even the spark plug looked OK.

Stumped, I wrote the Unofficial Royal Enfield Community Forum, where members instantly pinpointed my problem: the throttle cable itself.

Checking it, finally, I found the outer cable loose, actually outside its housing.

While sitting stopped at the traffic light I had sensed that the idle was slightly fast, and had pulled on the throttle cable, probably dislodging the outer cable from its socket and, with the motorcycle in neutral at the stop light, the rpm had soared.

If I had only been more patient out on the road, I might have noticed the loose cable, tucked it back into its socket, and not had to push the motorcycle two miles!

Now that I knew the problem, I was impatient to effect a repair. I acted impulsively.

Instead of simply returning the cable to its socket, I figured the twist grip itself would have to come off for examination.

This was stupid: the inner cable wasn't disconnected from the twist grip; the outer cable was just dislodged from its socket on the exterior of the throttle assembly.

If only I had analyzed the problem more carefully.

To free the twist grip, I unscrewed the kill switch module and left it hanging by its delicate wires.

Then I twisted the rear brake light switch out of the brake lever pedestal, in the process breaking the delicate soldered connections to the switch.

Then I removed the rearview mirror.

Then I slackened off the front brake adjustment to free the brake cable from the lever pedestal.

Every one of these disabling steps was unnecessary and ineffectual: the throttle twist grip still wasn't free!

See, I was making two errors here: First, there had been no reason at all to remove the twist grip. Second, even if there had been, there was no need to damage the whole right handlebar control assembly to do it. 

Still more impatient now, I twisted and tugged and, finally! The twist grip suddenly came off in my hand.

What now? I don't even know what it was I did that freed it!

I now needed to put the outer cable end back into its socket (which I could have done all along) and reattach the needlessly removed twist grip. But I didn't know how to reattach the grip, since I didn't know how I'd gotten it off.

Struggling, pushing, lubricating, twisting; nothing worked. It wouldn't go back on. I was foiled.

Look around at the damage I had done:

On the workbench (or on the floor around the motorcycle) were my disassembled carburetor and the motorcycle's battery. The fuel line was off. Hanging from the handlebars were the wires and cables I'd unnecessarily broken or disconnected, erasing their proper adjustments.

I realized now that I wasn't certain how the carburetor went together. I didn't know how to adjust the front brake, or how I would fix the broken brake light wiring. (I'm the fool who had soldered the wires to the switch, not realizing that unscrewing the switch for maintenance would snap my soldering.)

I thought of all those ads I'd read over the years, for motorcycles that were in great shape, except partly disassembled by foolish owners who couldn't put them back together. Left to decay.

So is this where it could end? I ruefully imagined writing my own ad:

"For sale. My 1999 Royal Enfield Bullet. High mileage but good condition. Just needs new throttle twist grip and attach carburetor and cables. Easy fix."

That won't happen to my bike, at least not yet.

I'm not giving up.

Odds and ends aid Royal Enfield repair

"Junk" fasteners can be just the thing to fix a Royal Enfield. 

 Years ago I encountered, on a Royal Enfield motorcycle forum, one man's claim that he prided himself on always being able to fix his motorcycle on the roadside, using the bits of wire and odd nuts and bolts he could find in the gutter. 

Since then, I've actually done it myself. Sort of. For me it's more a matter of using things I've collected from the gutter over the years instead of having to go to the hardware store to buy new fasteners. 

Some of my "repairs" with roadside finds remain on my Royal Enfield to this day. 

I'm not a mechanic so, for me, these scrap-metal bodges are more than just the good luck of having found exactly what I needed, for free, on the road. 

The objects I have at hand have actually tend to suggest the sort of repair I will attempt. 

"I'm stuck," I think to myself. "Here's a rusty nut. What can I do with it?"

My scavenging for bits started before I even owned a Royal Enfield.

My dad always kept an old wooden tray sectioned into compartments for different parts, on his workbench. Any random nut, bolt or washer got tossed in the tray.

(The tray looked ancient; I would not have been surprised to learn that he had gotten it from his father. I wish I had asked.)

In need of a fastener, he'd just finger through the appropriate compartment until he found something that fit. My brother and I soon learned to do this in keeping our bicycles working.

Once on my own, I didn't have a tray like that, or even a workbench. But I soon had a motive for picking up screws I found on the street.

I live in Florida, where home construction and remodeling is a way of life. Workers and their trucks seem to shed hardware like rain. Too often, it was the tires of my cars that "found" the sharp bits.

So, as my wife and I take our morning walks, I routinely "rescue" debris, in self-defense.

"That's a flat tire," I'll say, every time I palm a menacing screw or bolt.

When enough of these built up in the garage, I began sorting them so I could make use of what I found. See-through plastic peanut jars were the ideal containers in which to categorize the hardware. (I like peanuts, so I accumulate a lot of these jars.)

Years ago some home remodeler too busy or too cheap to go to the dump tossed an entire kitchen's worth of old metal cabinets on my lawn.

My reaction: Hooray. Just what I needed for the garage, and free delivery too!

With a metal cabinet on the wall over the former kitchen countertop (now my workbench) it seemed natural to bolt the plastic peanut jars to it, by drilling matching holes in the bottom of the cabinet and the plastic tops of the jars.

I just have to unscrew a jar to access its contents.

Aren't I a clever boy? I think so.

My dad wouldn't have seen anything special in it. Neither would his dad, very likely.

Somehow, that makes it special, for me. Just like they did, it's keeping, reusing and appreciating something that could have been thrown away.

Safety ties and other Royal Enfield bodges

 Old Royal Enfield motorcycles famously like to leave bits of themselves along the road they travel. Pretty much any part subjected very long to a hot, oily, vibrating Royal Enfield Bullet will eventually undo itself. 

Over the years I've found ingenious (some might say idiotic) ways to keep things in their place. I've experimented with chemical goo, bungee cords, and even considered baling wire. But I never stop looking for new ways to hold onto my fasteners, levers and linkages. 

Recognize these bodges? Top: Scavenged bolt and nut to hold gearshift on. Bottom left: Emergency wire exhaust holder. Bottom right: Duct tape to the rescue.  

Years ago, as a new owner of a Royal Enfield, I noticed that members of Internet forums often cured their problem with something called "safety ties." They sounded useful. But what were they? 

As is typical of the forums, "safety ties" were often mentioned but never defined. Along with "circlips," "Dowty washers" and "Woodruff keys," safety ties were a deep mystery to me.

But I had succeeded in learning what "J-B Weld" might be by simply going out and buying some.

So, riding home from work one day I stopped by that motorcycle shop I'd noticed.

I confidently asked to buy some "safety ties."

Oh-oh. The counterman seemed a bit taken aback.

Had I asked for safety ties in an inappropriate fashion? I recalled the expression of the fellow student selling "rubbers" door-to-door in the college dorm when I had asked him what size "rubbers" he sold. (I figured they'd need to match my shoe size.)

He must have thought: "What a jerk."

Back at the motorcycle shop the counterman called into the next room: "Guy wants to buy some safety ties."

After a moment a fellow emerged from the back room and plunked four curved strands of plastic on the counter.

"Four dollars," the clerk announced. I paid, in cash. There was no receipt. They probably laughed themselves silly after I walked out the door. They must have thought: "What a jerk."

Examining my overpriced purchase it was pretty obvious how a safety tie works. And, since the ones I had paid for obviously had been used before and undone, it was apparent that they could be reused, even if meant to be expendable.

Consequently, being somewhat ashamed of my ignorance, and also a cheap guy, I've never purchased another safety tie in my life. They're found everywhere in the streets and even the ones that have been cut off of whatever they were holding can often be undone and used again.

My habit of picking up any safety tie I find littering the sidewalk has endowed me with a vast collection of lengths and widths, from tiny to industrial strength. My heirs will wonder at this.

They'll probably think: "What a jerk."

But then they may think, if only to themselves, "these could come in handy."

Safety ties of all sizes, some reused, ride in the toolbox of my Royal Enfield Bullet.

Removing rust from chrome Royal Enfield wheels

Before: Rust spot in "gutter" of wheel rim feels rough and looks ugly.

Little rust spots on the wheels of your Royal Enfield motorcycle might alarm you if you're a neat nut. I'm not. I won't wash or wax my Royal Enfield if I can ride it instead. It's simple: there's often not time to do both.

But it rained the other day, just as I was looking forward to a ride, so I decided to finally get around to attacking the rust spots on the front wheel of my 1999 Royal Enfield Bullet.

I'd noticed these the last time I washed the motorcycle, proving that it is a good idea to wash the bike because it takes your eyes to places that aren't normally your focus. You can spot problems before they get worse.

In my case, the rust spots showed up in the "gutter" of the chrome wheel, the very point where the metal turns  to form the shape that holds the spokes. Perhaps the chrome is thinner there, or, I suspect, this is where water pools when the bike gets wet when parked.

The rust spots were worse on the left side of my front wheel (facing forward) and that "gutter" is just where water gets caught when the motorcycle is on its center stand and the front wheel is turned to the right so the handlebars can be locked.

The advice is to rub the rust spots with aluminum foil, perhaps wet with a bit of cola, to remove the rust, and then coat with chrome polish. Chemicals in the cola are said to help, but most of the benefit comes from the foil, which leaves a bit of aluminum to salve the wound.

Tin foil, diet cola and chrome polish.

I've used the tin foil-and-Coke routine on other rusted chrome and been surprised by how well it works. On the other hand, I am skeptical that finishing with mere chrome polish will adequately protect the wheel from rusting again in the same spots. If this doesn't work (I'll let you know), next time I will try using a bit of chrome paint to cover the exposed metal.

I know, chrome paint won't match and looks slapdash, but I like to say that my Royal Enfield lives in the real world. I would rather have it really protected than cosmetically perfect. Also I like the idea of applying and perhaps renewing paint rather than constantly rubbing away at the finish.

After: Note the scratch marks on treated area left by the tin foil.

The results with just tin foil and cola were encouraging. The rust spots were smooth to the touch and reduced in size to the point some were hard to see. But only the smallest rust spots were removed completely.

But, wow, what an effect the chrome polish had. The wheel just gleamed, reflecting light so brightly that it was difficult to photograph. In fact, I wish I had marked the rim so that I could be sure to shoot the "after" photo in the exact place the "before" shot was made. After the full treatment, I could no longer tell for sure.

So, good. But you and I know the rust is still there. Let's see how long it takes to return.

Replacing a Royal Enfield speedometer

Proof that my Royal Enfield Bullet has travelled more than 42,000 miles;
original speedometer/odometer, left, new (used) one as installed, right.

No trip odometer? No problem

Here is one tip for old Royal Enfield motorcycles I like a lot. Tim from New Zealand suggested an easy way to remember when to fill the gas tank: add gas every time the odometer rolls over 100 miles. You'll never have to try to memorize the mileage again.

I liked the advice, but there was no way I could use it. The odometer of my 1999 Royal Enfield Bullet stopped turning over at 42,480 miles.

I ignored the broken odometer for years, mostly because I was too proud of having racked up so many miles and so didn't want to give up my original speedometer/odometer.

But then a used one that looked similar came up on eBay and I bought it. It shows only 434 miles, which hopefully means it will work for many miles to come. We'll find out.

View of original speedometer inside the nacelle, with
 cable detached, bracket removed and main light bulb pulled.

I am no mechanic, so it was my hope that I could unplug and remove the old speedo, install the new one and plug in the original bulbs and their wiring. From what I could see by peeking inside the motorcycle nacelle, behind the headlight, the original speedometer and the new one looked the same, although with possibly a different finish.

My original was stamped 12/98, obviously the date of manufacture, while the new one was stamped 06/2002. Obviously, the replacement one really is newer.

First step was to disconnect the speedometer cable.

Then I unplugged the main speedometer light bulb with its wiring. The warning bulbs for high beam, neutral and turn signal, though, are well back on the body of the speedometer and hard to reach. And the high-beam warning bulb was pinned beneath an edge of the bracket that holds the speedometer in place.

The bracket would have to come off anyway, to remove the speedo, so I left the three bulbs and their wiring in place for the moment and attacked the big nut holding the bracket. I found a 7/8-inch socket fit the big nut and was a big help getting it off.

The bracket, once off, was strangely shaped. I instantly forgot which way the bracket was supposed to go back on. Did it matter?

Yes. But no worries.

Here's how the bracket should fit. Note how neatly the half-round
hole fits around the plug for the high-beam bulb.

The key to getting it back on correctly is the half-circle notch in one side of the bracket. That notch — cleverly — allows service access to the high-beam warning bulb without removing the bracket!

The fact that the high-beam bulb had been pinned on mine indicated that the factory had put the bracket on backwards in 1998. I guess it doesn't matter that much.

Once the bracket was off it was easy to push the speedometer up from the bottom. But I could not push it out of the nacelle yet, because it was still held by the wiring of the warning bulbs. Unplugging them was made easier by the fact that the speedometer was loose, as I could get a screwdriver in to pry them out. They were in really tight.

With the speedometer finally completely out I could see there is a rubbery gasket that fits under the bezel of the speedometer and presumably keeps moisture from getting under the speedo into the nacelle. I would re-use this.

Letter "D" on bottom side of gasket tells you which part
of the rubber ring goes "Down" at the bottom of the speedometer.

This gasket is not the same width or thickness all the way around. The letter "D" on the bottom of the gasket marks the point that is supposed to be "Down" on installation. Very helpful.

Moment of truth! In goes the new speedometer. I installed the warning bulbs, bracket and speedometer light. The big nut on the bracket pulls the speedo down tight against the nacelle. (It's  a bit tricky getting the big nut tight without turning the speedo out of place in the nacelle. Note that the big nut has more grip on the bracket when oriented with its flattest side against the bracket.)

I switched on the ignition and watched the warning lights for turn signals, neutral and high beam.

The high-beam warning bulb didn't come on. I pulled the fitting out, removed the bulb and squinted at it; sure enough, the filament was broken. I salvaged a bulb from the unused wiring that came with my replacement speedometer. It worked! (These are 12-volt 2-watt bulbs if you need new ones.)

So, back on with the headlight and we're all ready for a test run, right?

Errr, no. I'd forgotten to reconnect the speedometer cable. Back off with the headlight and let's get that done.

UPDATE: The replacement speedometer/odometer works fine. Makes me wonder if I could disassemble the old one, rescue the odometer tumbler from it, and insert it into the working replacement? I'd love to be able to display the thousands of miles we've travelled.

Royal Enfield starting problem cured by new battery

Problems starting my Royal Enfield Bullet were fixed by a new battery.

Few things (except maybe a fresh spark plug) are as likely to pep up a classic Royal Enfield motorcycle as a new battery.

I'd been nursing along a duff battery in my 1999 Royal Enfield Bullet since it almost stranded me Sept. 27, 2014.

I quickly found that while a few minutes on a battery charger would get us going, the battery would fail to hold a charge and, once stopped, the motor wouldn't restart. Aggravating.

So I made an appointment at my local Brit bike shop, Wes Scott Cycles in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.

Wes advised that he had what I needed on the shelf. But no trip to his shop deserves a simple run past. Half the reason I like to go there is to see what other motorcycles are on hand.

Triumph cafe racer. Lime green.

This time it was a trio of interesting Triumphs, including a custom cafe racer and a pristine looking Daytona. It's the details I like to look for — things such as what the reflectors look like and how rear axle alignment is adjusted.

Triumph Daytona was a more classic shade of green.

Seriously: has any other maker ever copied Royal Enfield's clam shell adjusters? I doubt it. At least they are unique.

A battered Yamaha 100 dirt bike last registered in 1977 provided the most drama that morning. Kick after kick failed to bring it to life until the fellow doing the kicking basically gave up. He managed one, last, half-hearted little shove with his foot.

Of course, this started the Yamaha immediately. The smoke drove almost everyone out of the shop.

Two-cycle Yamaha dirt bike clears the air of mosquitoes.

Wes installed my battery and I experienced the joy of starting my Bullet instantly, and twice in a row.

We're good to go now.

Precious details on the Triumph Daytona.

Royal Enfields are reliable builders of loyalty

The odometer on my 1999 Bullet reads 41,000 miles and counting.

New Royal Enfield motorcycles are designed to be reliable and light on maintenance chores.

Old-fashioned Royal Enfield Bullets were designed to rely on regular maintenance to keep them going.

Isn't it amusing that owners find something to like in both design philosophies? A recent conversation on the Royal Enfield Yahoo message board provided just such a testimonial.

"Bill" in Little Rock, Ark. wrote:

"I promised an update and here it is. The Enfield is up and running after sitting idle in my garage for the last three or four years and I had forgotten what an absolute hoot it is to ride. Once everything was addressed, it started on the first kick. Amazing!

"No, it doesn't go fast, it shifts only with sheer determination, it shakes like a minor earthquake, and it doesn't stop on a dime, but it is truly the most fun to ride. Yes, you've got to wrench the beastie regularly. And Loctite has got to be in your left hand (and liberally applied) as you reattach the stuff that has vibrated loose. Gotta an incline coming up? No need to down shift: just twist the grip and THUMP, THUMP, THUMP.

"Once I had everything working, my dear, understanding wife asked if I now wanted to sell it — ya know, since it now works. Without any thought I told her I'd rather keep it for putt-ing around on and use the Shadow for my daily driver.

"The Royal Enfield, at least in my version (2000 500 Bullet kick start), isn't for everybody. It really is for the dedicated; but all of you reading this know that. I'm just reaffirming my passion for this ride."

His message drew this response from "George":

"I can totally identify! My '95 Bullet is a treasure, though one that requires some regular attention. Nobody asks to borrow it 'cuz they're afraid they can't master the right-side shift. I'm happy to cultivate that since I know they're unlikely to figure out the secret handshake required for first-kick starting.

"I used to commute to work on it every day, but now it's in a rotation with my Honda Hawk GT and Guzzi V50. I have to tell you that I look forward to the days on the Enfield since nothing is as satisfying as that bike on one of its good days.

"It's probably the least practical thing I own, but it would be the last vehicle I would sell."

Enfield rider asks why no one offered help

Another motorcyclist is standing by the side of the road next to his motorcycle. Should you stop? Of course. Would you stop? Well, that depends.

A Royal Enfield rider who signed himself Bullet 500Dude recounted his experience, on the Pashnit forum:

"What is it with bikers these days? I've always felt a brotherhood with other bikers, and I've never passed a broken down biker. So last weekend I went out riding around on my Enfield when the rod started knocking, and I was stranded on the side of the road. At least 20 bikes passed me, and not a one stopped. Why didn't they stop? My choice of machine?"

I was impressed by the response this got. It says a lot about the quality of the discussion on this website, devoted to great motorcycle roads in California. Those who commented weren't foul or obnoxious. Bullet500Dude was counseled not to take it personally, and not to blame the discourtesy of others on anything he did.

The most instructive comment came from contributor Johnny Owrstrich. The subject is important, so I am taking the liberty of quoting part of what he said here. Owstrich advised that "we don't always stop. But we always investigate. The universal thumb up signal is what we use.

"When we are beside the road and all is well and a moto approaches we give them the thumbs up so they know all is well. If we were broke down we would give them the thumbs down.

"When we see a moto beside the road we will look them in the eyes, point the index finger at them so they know we are talking to them, then give them the thumbs up.

"If they return the thumbs up we continue on our way. If they shake their head no or give us the thumbs down or shrug their shoulders or generally look confused, we stop.

"Likewise, when broke down beside the road, the universal signal is face approaching traffic, point to the moto with one hand, give the thumbs down with the other hand.

"If another moto doesn't stop for that..."

It sounds like fine advice and I appreciate it. Pashnit.com is supported by its members through a $20 yearly subscription to California Motorcycle Roads. If I lived anywhere close (I'm in Florida), I would certainly want to join.

P.S. While I like Owstrich's advice very much, I admit I haven't been very good about taking it. Usually I've tried to determine by looking whether the biker by the road is in trouble or just taking a break. I'm not a mechanic and my bike has a solo seat, so, if the biker was already on his cell phone, I figured there wasn't much else I could do.

No biker has ever stopped for me when I've broken down but I attribute that to the fact that few or none have seen me. People in cars (who may have been motorcyclists, I don't know) have asked if I needed help. Fortunately, since I started carrying spare cables, nothing has happened that I couldn't fix roadside or limb home on.

Pizza box helps repair Royal Enfield

Peter E. Raymond likes a challenge. I've written before about his willingness to tackle automotive roadside repairs with maybe a hair clip borrowed from his sister and native ingenuity. His problem solving skills have now extended to his new Royal Enfield Bullet motorcycle. The Brooklyn, N.Y. resident writes:

"Had a classic Enfield day on Sunday, I threw a tappet/push rod and had to strip the bike down to access cam/valve cover on side of the road. Lucky there was a pizza box near by to rest the tank on.

"At first I thought I was going to need a flat bed tow, but then I thought if I can just see the problem I might be able to fix it. Sure enough. Did 250 miles since.

"See pics, whole repair took about 45 minutes.

"Now I want to open a shop ;-)"

I doubt he has time for that. Raymond is CEO and Creative Director of Human Condition a very high-tech "innovation firm."

Author plans no manual for new bike

Leaning over the brand new 2009 Royal Enfield Bullet, Royal Enfield engineer Hari Kumar was demonstrating how a dealer can use software on a laptop computer to diagnose problems. I asked him what a rider could do on the roadside if and when the Malfunction Indicator Lamp (idiot light) comes on.

Kumar pointed to the five connections to sensors around the bike. The rider could make sure they're all still connected. That's all.

Designed to be trouble free, the new unit constructed engine (UCE) Royal Enfields are also designed to do without intervention by the rider. That's why Pete Snidal, author of the definitive owner's and workshop manual for Bullets of the past, plans no edition for the UCE.

"It won't be a bike for the DIY (do-it-yourself) kinda guy, so no manual required. At least not from me," Snidal told me.

He is prepared to believe it is possible the new Royal Enfields could get by without one.

"My first impression is that they did remarkably well incorporating present-day tech with the basic spirit of the original Bullet..." he said. "I'm pretty impressed with the Japness of the whole thing! Obvious where they got their ideas from, but then it seems like yesterday I was looking at the first Kaw(asaki) imitation BSA 650, and we know what a fine job they started doing from there. It IS a global world out there these days; no reason why India couldn't get an oar in the water."

The old-time Bullets, in production virtually unchanged in India for 50 years, needed occasional tinkering by owners, and Snidal's manual helped them do it right. Properly cared for and rebuilt when necessary, those Bullets could last seemingly forever. Therefore, they aren't going away anytime soon.

"I have a feeling there'll still be a lot of Bullets on the road after the last UCE dies," Snidal said.

Royal Enfield is the mother of invention

This winter, a warm, gentle massage and some hot oil may sound like a spa vacation to you. The left-side shift mechanism of four-speed Royal Enfield Bullets in the U.S. enjoys this lovely environment every day of its operating life.

As a result, somewhere along the road, your gear shift lever will sleepily vibrate its way off and tumble onto the road. If you don't need to shift right away, you could be miles up the road before you notice that there is no way to change gears.

The standard emergency bodge for this is a pair of vise grips tightly clamped to teeth of the shift. You tromp on the vice grips to shift gears.

Fortunately for me, I've generally realized immediately that the gearshift was gone and was able to walk back along the road to retrieve it. Once I had to watch it be run over by a car and flung through the air before I could get it. There was no damage.

How to keep it on? Tightening the pincher bolt obviously wasn't doing it. I tried blue Locktite, but it was apparent that the Locktite itself has just enough volume to keep you from tightening the pinchers adequately. Once the Locktite wore out I had to take another walk back down the road to pick up the lever.

A fellow on the Royal Enfield Yahoo! message board suggested drilling through the lever and its mechanism, lining up the hole perfectly to accept a screw (a cotter pin might have worked, too).

The prospect of drilling accurately through that much hard metal with my hand-held drill didn't appeal.

It was then that I noticed that the center of the mechanism that emerges from beneath the primary was drilled and tapped. It would accept a bolt. What purpose this has, I don't know. Perhaps someone anticipated my need.

I'm one of those people who will bend down while walking through a parking lot or along a road and pick up the stray bolt or nail from the ground. Saves someone a flat tire, I figure. From my junk drawer of accumulated hardware I found a bolt, washer and soft rubber grommet that when tightened would prevent my gearshift from leaving its mount.

Goofy as it is, this may be my favorite customization of my Bullet. Rarely has anything worked so well.