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FIRST RIDE!
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We arrived in Bombay at 2.45am local time, and had
a 7 hour wait for our flight south to Trivandrum. I
spent this time with a group of lads who had got
together in London; Andy, a 41 year old refinery
worker from Hull; a diminutive and quiet bike mechanic
called Paul who rode a hardtail chop Harley in the UK;
Paul, an older chap from Lancashire; John, a breathing
apparatus expert from Farnham, and Kev, a roofer from
Lincoln. A lot of leg pulling later we got on the
Airbus to fly south to begin our trip.
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The delay in setting off had caused havoc for the
organisers; instead of the original plan, which
involved a civic reception followed by a parade around
Kottayam, the town in Kerala where we were to begin,
plan B was to miss the short first day's ride and start
80 km up the road on the Tuesday morning.
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The logistics
of moving 150 Enfields 80 km without riders proved
insurmountable however, and we reverted to plan A,
but with the reception and parade on the Monday
afternoon, followed by a very early start on the
Tuesday morning.
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We had a 5 hour bus trip to get to Kottayam from
Trivandrum, and we were all pretty shattered. As we
drove through the Indian countryside the memories of
my last visit to India in 1990 came flooding back;
the continuous line of businesses along the road, the
tuk-tuks (motorised rickshaws), the sacred cows walking
down the middle of the road, the noise, the dust. We
arrived in Kottayam to be welcomed by banners
everywhere proclaiming the coming of the Enfield
Challenge riders from England - the locals waved,
smiled and shouted greetings to us as we wound through
the town to the parade ground where we were to begin.
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Our fatigue evaporated as soon as we arrived at the
parade ground - there they were, 150 shiny new Enfields
in ranks, all ready to go. Each bike had a label on it
with the rider's name and group on it. We were split
into 6 groups by experience, and the top 2 groups
would ride together , then the middle 2, then the
novices bringing up the rear. I was in the middle
group, which proved to be the quickest as the more
experienced group contained the steadier, older
riders and the novices were of wildly varying speed.
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There were 2 models of bile all mixed together; the
black domestic models with a plastic tank badge, and
the export models for those of us who were bringing
our bikes home,. These have chrome tanks with
hand-painted Enfield logos, and a much longer,
quieter, power-robbing exhaust.
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I found the bike easy to start in the heat of the
day; next morning I would fond a cold, dew-covered
bike was rather more difficult to persuade into life!
For the ride I teamed up with the rider next to me,
Barney Dumbell, as it was decreed that you should each
have a riding "buddy" who would stick with you in the
event of a breakdown.
We sat through speeches by Seymour Thistlethwaite,
head of Global Cancer Concern, by the MD of Enfield
India, the Minister for Cultural affairs, and one of
the doctors from the hospital who made a controversial
speech about euthanasia in a society where opium-based
painkillers were not allowed, and how GCC's work could
turn this around.
After music from a traditional Keralan band and a
parade of elephants with huge gold shields on their
heads, it was time for the parade around the town.
Unfortunately this coincided with the 5pm rush hour,
so we all wobbled through the traffic, slipping the
clutch as we went/ Of course an old English bike does
not appreciate this treatment and I and may others
soon found ourselves clutchless! I freewheeled back
into the parade ground, 3km short of our final goal of
the local Enfield
dealers where the bikes would be spending the night.
Luckily we had a full support crew form the Enfield
factory with support trucks, an mobile workshop and
a throng of mechanics so all the bikes were recovered
to the dealership by the following morning.
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After a quick beer and a bite to eat in the hotel
we all retired to bed. We were sharing 3 to a room,
and I found myself sharing a bed with an intense guy
called John, who it transpired had been Ozzy Osborne's
drummer when he first left Black Sabbath! His current
hellraising life is as an architect, so it proves some
old rockers made it through the sex and drugs and rock
and roll! We locked the bathroom door to stop the rats
which come up the drains, and got a few hours sleep
before the alarm call at 3.15 the following morning.
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