A humble open letter to Royal Enfield
Mr Lal,
I hope this letter finds you in the best of health. I would
like to extend my heartiest congratulations on the success that the Royal
Enfield brand has seen in the last decade or so. It’s an amazing success story
and I hope Harvard makes a case out of it. However, my reason for writing to
you is very personal and this small letter springs from the bottom of my
crankcase.
The signature thump of the old heavy crank engine is one of
the oldest sounds I remember. Sitting by the edge of the road and waiting for
the police to pass just to hear that sweet melody. Especially when you hear it
in the distance and wait in silence as it slowly grows louder owing everything
around you.
The first time I rode one it was nothing short of orgasmic.
She was blue in colour with a bronze insignia. The front was so commanding it could
have ruled the road. The puny 150cc bikes that kids flaunt today feel like
frail ladies compared to the blue beast. I remember trying to kick start her to
life but I was no match and just sat down on the fuel tank. She was vibrating
furiously and to be honest I was little scared. But then, we started moving
forward slowly and things seemed to settle down. The speedo kept rising slowly,
the ammeter needle was leaning a little to one side, there was the familiar
click every time the gear changed, the heat near my legs kept increasing and
the ride was getting smoother with every passing minute. I had started out clutching
the handle bars for life but as the wind in my hair grew and the thump eased
into a smooth baritone sound I never realised that I was really home. Home like
I had never been and in that moment of absolute clarity I knew that this is the
bike I would own as this is the bike that owns me.
I think every the life of every rider can be divided into
three clear parts. The falling madly in love is the first one and happily ever
after is the last one but it’s the one that transpires in between which is, the
most excruciating one. You want and wait and look at others riding along
happily knowing that it will happen one day. You study harder because that’s the
condition, you promise to do all sorts of rubbish things like – I will keep the
rear view mirrors on or I will never ride in shorts or definitely no driving
fast or definitely won’t go to Leh, the bike is only for city riding and what
not. I rode a bicycle for years because a dear friend had told me very clearly,
“If you want a bullet, never settle for Splendor”. God knows I followed that
command to the letter.
Finally after years of waiting, I got a 92 model made from
scratch and she was a treat to sore eyes. However, that’s a story for another
day. Let’s fast forward a little.
The reason I am writing to you is because I was planning to
buy a Desert Storm for myself but a couple of months ago I took my friend’s
year or so old bike for a ride and God knows I am not buying anything you sell
ever again. And, you have no idea how sad it feels to say that because I have
lived walked talked and worn Royal Enfield!
The said bike that I rode was carefully maintained, kept in
a perfectly nice enclosed space, cleaned periodically and serviced on schedule.
However, it felt like a wreck to put it mildly. We have put up with a lot of
things with the bike because of the sheer love. You will not see me bickering
about loose tappets or engine oil leaking out of the crankcase and the cylinder
head or the chain rattle or any other perennial concern. But, rust!!! That
killed it Mr Lal. Absolutely killed it. The quality of the parts is….never mind
Years of fighting for the bullet, saving for the petrol,
cleaning the rims to make them shine, learning to tinker preparing for that
trip to Leh, hitching rides with the police folks just to feel the thump,
making the dug dug sound when no one’s watching and what not. All these came
crashing down that day. You will never understand that feeling. I even rode my
bike with a broken hand and once with a broken leg. You get the idea I hope.
Without sounding offensive, Shakur in Lucknow working out of
a 200 sq feet workshop provides better fit and finish than you do. And, that is
very disheartening. When I pay a hundred and fifty thousand bucks I expect to
get some minimum levels of quality. The parts cannot just rust and fall off,
that is unacceptable. I understand the cost pressures must be high and you have
a company to run but it would be really nice if once in a while you made
something that aged with grace. I have had the chance to ride a 62 model and
boy was she a beauty. She brought these lines from Madhushala to mind:
‘Apne yug main sabko
anupam gyat hui apni haala,
apne yug main sabko adbhut gyat hua apna pyala,
phir bhi vriddhon se jab poocha ek yahi uttar paya -
ab na rahe veh peenewale,
ab na rahi veh madhushala’
apne yug main sabko adbhut gyat hua apna pyala,
phir bhi vriddhon se jab poocha ek yahi uttar paya -
ab na rahe veh peenewale,
ab na rahi veh madhushala’
You know why we guys love bikes so much? It’s because they
are the perfect companion for every journey. You don’t even need a pillion
rider when you have great machine with you. A machine that you understand. A
machine which makes you smile every time you get on it. A machine that will take
the untrodden path with you. A machine that communicates with you. A machine
that you love and she loves you back.
This soliloquy can go on for ever and I doubt you will ever
read till here. But, just in case you do, I’d appreciate if you could make them
bikes stronger and better. It’s a small and humble request from an ex-fan. It
will be Triumph now.
Happy Thumping
I bleed engine oil
posted by Unknown @ 1:08 AM
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