My last bike. 1998 Royal Enfield (they'd just acquired the "Royal" bit) 500 Bullet, Indian built.
Apparently bought by someone working in India and taken back to England when he'd finished the job.
My wife and I found it when we were walking along a quiet lane in Devon, while we were in England for an extended visit, visiting relatives before we all kick the bucket.
Anyway, as we passed a garage with the doors open we spotted the bike gently rusting away beside flowing water. Where the rust had taken over completely on the chrome mudguards, someone had just slapped a coat of black enamel, same with the festering alloy castings. But it had only done a few hundred miles.
This thing had all the disadvantages of a 1955 British bike, with a whole load of Indian problems added on.
Not having any facilities, it lived under a cover and I cleaned, scraped and oiled until it looked as though it just had fifty years of UK usage on it. I did manage to stop some leaks, but others were impossible without machine tools.
Casings crumbled and the wheels were just about rusted through. The engine breather pumped oil out onto the chain, which was good, but the quantity was not. Threads in the casings were stripped out and the carb flatly refused to stay connected to the engine.
The gearbox started out with four sort of functioning ratios, but in the short time I owned it, it gained three or four neutrals as well, apparently a common thing.
This was about the time my legs were finally giving way and apart from dropping the bike, I couldn't get my foot up onto the kickstart, so I parked it.
Then one day I received a phone call from someone who knew someone who restored bikes as a sort of business cum hobby. I hadn't paid much for the bike and he offered me about the same, so I "reluctantly" parted company with the bike and helped him load it into his van. I had thought of bringing it back to Canada with us, but reason prevailed.
Shortly after, we headed back home to Canada safe in the knowledge that my time with motorcycles was over.
However. It began to cross my mind that even if I don't ride one, I could still have a project bike ongoing in the workshop that would keep my mind occupied, along with the thirty odd other little projects on the go.
Nothing has shown up yet, but you never know what's out there. Maybe a nice Brough Superior that's been parked in a barn and no one knows it's there.
This is a photograph of the RE at an machinery working meet in Devon. When I arrived and tried to go to the car park, the marshals said the bike looked so old, it should be displayed with the antique motorcycles.
Hmmmm.
