It was not my finest hour this week. A fellow-biker friend was staying for a couple of nights so we hired out a couple of Royal Enfield Bullets. I thought I’d show him how to do it and take a night-ride around the local lake. Yep, you guessed it, I drove into a ditch while he followed. No bones broken but hardly the impression I had intended to make. He’s now renamed that corner ‘Munford Corner’ – he’s a funny guy.
The reason for the crash? No, not my cack-handed riding, but the design of the bike. The brake pedal on the old skool Bullet is on the left-hand side instead of the right and after riding bikes for 30 years, this is dangerous when faced with an ‘accident situation’. One’s instinct is to press down on the right side, which puts the bike into a lower gear and… you generally fall off.
However, this doesn’t stop groups of Enfieldwallahs and enthusiasts from across India and the rest of the world on riding them around through some of India’s most extraordinary scenery. The world’s second-highest road from Manali to Leh in Ladakh is a particular favourite, like an elongated Cresta Run for motorcyclists.
But fanboys apart, the love of the Enfield Bullet is dying off almost as quickly as the Parsis of Bombay and this week’s news that Harley-Davidson is making a belated entry into the Indian market means Enfieldwallahs will soon be as niche as those UK bikers who restore BSAs and Nortons.
I once rode a Harley 1,200cc Indian (an ironic name), from Las Vegas to Los Angeles in a gloriously random trip that took in the Mojave Desert, forest fires, the biggest horse-racing event in the world and ended at a Disney fancy-dress party in the Hollywood hills.
In 36 hours I rode 932 miles and I still talk about it. The hog didn’t look back and was as reliable as an Indian railway timetable.
And that’s the problem with the Enfield. Even though it looks great, is indeed a design classic and it phut-phuts more beautifully than any Steve McQueen-ridden bike, it’s a nightmare. It’s difficult to kick over and can only be done when the ammeter is lined up correctly. It’s heavy and it banks appallingly, it cuts out all the time and it’s only curmudgeons such as me who can endure its unreliability.
If I rode an Enfield for 36 hours in India I would probably drive 93 miles, not like the 932 in the US.
But Harley-Davidson has researched this market and its decision to open dealerships in the cities of Delhi, Mumbai, Bangalore, Chandigarh and Hyderabad means it is taking the Enfield on and offering affluent Indian urbanites the American dream; not the Indian one when the bike always breaks down.
A month ago, I took a test-ride on the Enfield’s new model, the Hurricane. It has an electric start, it doesn’t have that delicious phut-phut sound and the brake pedal is now on the right side. It wasn’t bad, but it just felt like riding a cheap Harley.
So, methinks Easy Rider is going to destroy Awkward Rider, but at least my other mate @justinpearse who forgot to get his visa in time shouldn’t despair too much. India may have ditched him, but at least the Enfield I’d ordered for him won’t.
Monty Munford has more than 15 years' experience in mobile, digital media, web and journalism. He is the founder of Mob76, a company that helps tech companies raise money and exit. He speaks regularly at global media events with a focus on Africa, writes a weekly column for The Telegraph, is a regular contributor to The Economist, Wired, Mashable and speaks regularly on the BBC World Service.
