Harley-Davidson 99, Royal Enfield 2

Harley-Davidson store inside Union Station, Washington, D.C.

My road trip from Florida to Washington, D.C. allowed me to visit two Royal Enfield dealerships. Both were friendly. One was amazing. One was bare bones. Had I wanted, I could have stopped in an untold number of Harley-Davidson dealerships, all over the top.

Every exit on I-95, it seemed, featured a huge billboard advertising the town's Harley dealership. Now, keep in mind that very few billboards on U.S. roads anymore advertise Chevrolet dealerships. Harley is making a huge effort.

The most dramatic example I saw was Battlefield Harley-Davidson in Gettysburg, Penn. Gettysburg, of course, is the location of the largest Civil War battle. In 1863 165,000 soldiers visited this little community in Southern Pennsylvania. Only 114,000 of them walked away.

Battlefield Harley-Davidson has the billboard out on the main road. But it also has ads in almost every piece of tourist literature I picked up, often the major advertisement in some. One ad showed a picture of a man in the full uniform of a Union officer riding a full-dress Harley. Battlefield Harley-Davidson is fully engaged.

One ad noted that there is "always something" going on at Battlefield Harley-Davidson. Another promises "fun for the entire family." The dealership obviously participates in every special occasion at Gettysburg.

And why not? It looks like a fun operation, totally devoted to its product and its community. I'll write more about the Royal Enfield dealerships I visited but no account of my road trip would have been complete without a nod to Harley's example of how to sell motorcycles.

I assume there is no need to mention the presence of Harley-Davidson stores in airports and (in Washington, DC) even at the train station. They're just selling t-shirts but they're fun, too.

Roadtrip in search of Royal Enfield roads

The opportunity to drive from Florida to Washington, D.C. inspired me to watch for roads appropriate for my Royal Enfield Bullet. I was in my car, of a course, and a good thing too, since the East Coast experienced unseasonably cold temperatures this week.

There was good news and bad. The good news was that even though I deliberately drove at Bullet friendly speeds for long stretches, other traffic didn't seem bothered. Other drivers just flowed around me.


The bad news is that the stoplight hell of chain stores and fast-food franchises spans entire states. In Central Florida, where I supposed there would be only blue highways free of development, a series of "golf villages" has sprouted, spawning visual monotony and maddening traffic.

When I did get far enough afield to be alone on the road, services vanished. The Low Fuel Warning light became a constant companion. I stopped at what looked like a charming mom-and-pop motel for the night and stepped into a room dirtier and more depressing than any I found in a trip through Morocco 30-plus years ago. No wonder people prefer the brand name places along the interstate.


The cafes and restaurants I passed on the side roads were usually boarded up and dark. But I could have eaten the identical nationally advertised meal at any of a half-dozen chain establishments at every freeway overpass. What a strange land we have become: you can travel yet never experience anything unfamiliar no matter how far you go.

At least we can change the vehicle. Next time, I'll take the bike.

Royal Enfield inspires roadside repairs

My Royal Enfield Bullet never goes anywhere without a bungee cord in the tool box, but I've only had to take it out once, when the spring that holds up the center stand snapped at 30,000 miles. Brian Wittling's long-range tours of National Parks across the U.S. required a bit more creativity. He shared these pictures of instant repairs that kept him going.

The pictures need no captions. Duct tape is always the universal tool, and baling wire is handy. One British biker once commented that he prided himself on always being able to fix his motorcycle with whatever "supplies" he could find strewn along the roadside.


You could fill a workshop with nuts and bolts of all sizes by taking a short walk down the gutter of any American highway. Apparently most vehicles are designed with splendid redundancy, because they kept going regardless of what fell off.

When my Bullet's shift lever twice fell off in half a mile I determined that it was so well oiled that no amount of wiping and tightening could ensure it stayed on. I noticed it was tapped at the center, however, and a bit of scrounging along the gutter found a screw and washer that fit. Now the shift lever could not escape. The screw and washer are part of my Bullet still, as a back up to a thorough job of cleaning and tightening.

It's clear that the most important piece of equipment on a Royal Enfield is the active, creative mind of its determined rider.

Handy bottle trick deals with dry sumping

Now that my Royal Enfield Bullet doesn't commute to work every day, it will "wet sump." That is, oil in the timing gears halfway up the motor gradually leaks down into the crankshaft space below the piston. On starting, any oil here is flung against the bottom of the piston, finds its way into the combustion chamber and is burned off in a cloud of white smoke.

It's embarrassing. It coats the spark plug with oil. And it's also potentially harmful to the motor. One school of thought has it that the scavenger oil pump assigned to keep the dry sump clear is overtaxed by this sudden load of thick, cold oil at start-up and could strip its gears. Meanwhile, the lack of oil in the upper parts of the engine is contributing to wear there.

The best way to solve this problem might be to ride every day, keeping the seepage effect to a minimum. But since even I can't do that here in Florida, it's unrealistic to expect people in colder parts of the country to do it through the winter.

Luckily, Royal Enfield provides a separate drain plug for the dry sump: the forward drain plug. Drain the few ounces of oil accumulated there, pour it back into the oil tank under the dipstick/cap, and all is well. Except, well, it's a messy job.

Early in the history of U.S. imports of Royal Enfields to the United States, Kevin Mahoney of Classic Motorworks learned of a handy way to do it. On May 21, 1999, he posted this tip on the CMW web site:

"When your Bullet has not been started for a period of time it is common for a fair amount of oil to seep out of the system and fill the 'dry-sump' crankcase. This happens on many British bikes and Harleys. This is evidenced in a Harley by a puddle of oil on the floor (larger than usual) and in the Bullet by a smoking exhaust and sometimes oil from the tailpipe. This is a normal condition. It can be eliminated or reduced by doing the following. Take a 1 gallon plastic milk container and cut the top 1/2 off. Place it under the front of the engine, loosen the sump drain bolt (the most forward placed of the drain bolts) and drain off the oil which has collected in the sump. You will find that the sump plug fits perfectly in hole which used to be the handle! When the oil has drained, pour it back into the oil tank or top it off with fresh oil."

Sounds good. I decided to give it a try. First it was necessary to visualize exactly what Kevin was suggesting: don't cut off the entire top of the milk jug; leave as much "meat" as you can, cutting across the handle to leave a nice hole for the sump plug to sit in.

The first surprise I encountered is how flimsy a plastic milk jug is when you cut off much of the top. It's wobbly and weak. Still, it worked as Kevin predicted as far as collecting the oil and holding the sump plug.

But when I went to pour the collected oil back into the oil tank the milk jug deformed unevenly and spilled most of the oil on the ground. I might have been OK if I had poured it carefully into a funnel rather than trying to aim directly at the narrow oil tank opening.

This is one tip that is not yet ready for prime time. I'm keeping my eyes open for a plastic bottle with more strength.