This is a blog I did for CSC a year or so ago, and it’s one I thought I would run again here. We haven’t done a Dream Bikes blog in a while, and it’s time.
It’s raining, it’s cold here in southern California, and those two conditions are enough to keep me indoors today. I’ve been straightening things up here in the home office, and I came across a Triumph brochure from 1978. I bought a new Bonneville that year and as I type this, I realize that was a cool 40 years ago. Wowee. Surprisingly, the brochure scanned well, so much so that even the fine print is still readable…
Triumph had two 750 twins back then. One was the twin-carb Bonneville, and the other was the single-carb model (I think they called it the Tiger). The Bonneville came in brown or black and the Tiger came in blue or red (you can see the color palette in the third photo above). I liked the red and my dealer (in Fort Worth) swapped the tank from a Tiger onto my Bonneville. I loved that bike, and I covered a lot of miles in Texas on it. I used to ride with a friend and fellow engineer at General Dynamics named Sam back in the F-16 days (he had a Yamaha 500cc TT model, which was another outstanding bike back in the day). I wish I still had that Bonneville.
After I sold the Bonneville, I turned right around and bought a ’79 Electra-Glide Classic. There’s a brochure buried around here somewhere on that one, and if I come across it I’ll see how it scans. The Harley had a lot of issues, but it’s another one I enjoyed owning and riding, and it’s another I wish I still owned.
So there you have it. That ’78 Bonneville is a bike I still have dreams about, and they were made all the more poignant by the Royal Enfield Interceptor I rode in Baja last month. You can read about the Enfield Interceptor and our Baja adventures here.
Want to read more pieces like this? Check out our other Dream Bikes here!
I came across my new good buddy Chris Alves’ photo essay about a ride across India on a Royal Enfield a day or two ago and I was impressed. Imagine that…a 3,000-mile ride across India on a Royal Enfield. That’s a bucket list ride for me. You can get to Chris’ photo essay by clicking here. Folks, this one is worth your time.
I was up in San Francisco a week or so ago and I stopped by good buddy Barry’s San Francisco Scooter Centre for two reasons: To say hello to Barry, and to check out the new Genuine G400c motorcycle. It’s the bike manufactured by Shineray (in Chongqing, China), and I had seen two versions of it when I rode across China on an RX3 nearly three years go.
Brand new Genuine G400c motorcycles in good buddy Barry’s San Francisco Scooter Centre.The new Genuine’s pricing in the San Francisco Scooter Centre. Like other Asian and Indian bikes from Royal Enfield, CSC, and BMW, the price is seriously lower than others on the market from the Big 4 and Europe. Unlike many other dealers, the San Francisco Scooter Centre’s setup, documentation, and freight charges are honest and reasonable.
I didn’t have the time or the gear to ride the Genuine G400c last week, but Barry said he wants me to try the new machine and he offered a ride. I’m going to do that later this month, and I’ll tell you more about the bike when I do.
The products available to us as motorcyclists sure are changing, and there’s no doubt the imports from China and India are rocking our world. Gresh and I have a bit of experience on Zongshen’s RX3, RX4, and TT250 (made in China and imported by CSC). I’ve had some seat time on the new BMW 310 made in India. Joe and I recently completed a week-long adventure in Baja riding the Royal Enfield 500cc Bullet and their new 650cc Interceptor (both made in India). I don’t have any time yet on Harley’s 500cc and 750cc v-twin cruisers (also made in India), but I’m working on correcting that character flaw. There’s an old proverb that says “may you live in interesting times.” We certainly are.
Hey, more good news: I finally received my printed copies of Destinations, and my story on Kitt Peak National Observatory is in the next issue of Motorcycle Classics magazine. You can see all of theDestinations pieces (and get your very own copy) right here. Good buddy Mike did. Mike and I graduated junior high school and high school together back in the day (as in 50 years ago), and we still talk to each other a couple of times each month. Good friends and good times!
Good buddy Mike, who knows a good thing when he sees it!
Good buddy Bob, our most recent adventure moto book contest winner!
It’s that time again, and our first quarter 2019 adventure motorcycle book contest winner is good buddy Bob. Bob became eligible when he signed up for our automatic email blog updates, and you can, too! We’re giving away another book at the end of this quarter, and all you have to do is sign up for our automatic email updates.
When we notified Bob of his win, he wrote to us…
I like your approach with the Zongshens…1200cc is not required for touring. My touring machine is shown in the photo: A 2002 Honda Silverwing scooter. I sold it with 35K showing on the odometer and later bought another.
Bob, your copy of Destinations, our latest moto adventure book, will be going out to you in the next few days. Congratulations to you and thanks for being an ExhaustNotes reader!
Destinations is a collection of motorcycle rides and destinations culled from the pages of Motorcycle Classics magazine. I’m a regular contributor to Motorcycle Classics, and this book encompasses travel stories going back as far as 2006. My good buddy and editor Landon Hall (who found a few Rock Store photos I put on the Internet in 2005) is the guy who first got me started in the travel writing business, and he wrote the foreword to this book for me.
Destinations has 56 chapters and 150 photographs (many of which have never before been published). Great motorcycle hangouts, mountain roads, national parks, motorcycle museums, best kept secrets, how to get there, things to avoid, the best restaurants, and more for great rides both in the United States and Baja…it’s all here, inviting you to ride the best roads and the most exciting destinations in North America!
Here’s Part II of our grand ride to the top of Volcan Nevado del Ruiz. Colombia was an awesome adventure, and my good buddies Juan and Carlos were great traveling companions. Here you go, folks….
As I mentioned earlier, our riding positions were Juan, me, and Carlos. Juan was just amazing. I was keeping up, but I was working hard to do it. And I knew Juan and Carlos had dialed it back for me.
Juan made it look so easy. He would sometimes ride through the curves standing on the pegs, almost as if he needed to give himself more of a challenge. At one point, we were taking a set of curves at speeds way above those at which I would normally ride, with the bikes leaned over at an unimaginable angle, when I looked ahead at Juan. He was standing on the pegs again, with his motorcycle leaned way over in a sweeping curve, and he was reaching back to check the latch on one of his panniers. He was doing this as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Both he and Carlos are incredible riders.
Colombian chicken-strip-reducing twisties on our climb to the top.
Juan knew another photo spot, and we stopped. He and Carlos took positions on the side of the road to take photos, but I zeroed in on my front tire. I wanted to check out my chicken strips.
Chicken strips are the edges of the tire tread that haven’t contacted the road surface. The harder you corner on a motorcycle, the more you lean the bike over, and the narrower your chicken strips become. Our ride during the last 30 miles or so had been aggressive, and my chicken strips showed it. They were about as narrow as any I have ever created on a motorcycle.
Juan and Carlos came over. They thought I had a problem with the motorcycle’s front tire until they saw me photographing it. Both guys laughed. They knew immediately what I was doing.
“I was watching you in the mirrors,” Juan said, “and you are riding more strongly. We will make you an honorary Colombian motorcyclist!”
The spot Juan had selected to stop was indeed a good one. The Nikon 18-55mm lens came off the camera I replaced it with the Tokina 12-24mm. I grabbed a shot that became one of my favorites (it’s the one you see above).
Chicken strips (the narrow unused tread area at the tire’s edge).
The climb continued, we turned left at an intersection, and then we made a right turn onto a dirt road. We were in the fog, but the fog had not descended to reach us. We had climbed into the clouds to reach it.
It was cold. I could barely see Juan through the fog and I thought it was because my visor had clouded over. I lifted the visor and I realized that it was indeed fogged over, but the visibility wasn’t any better with it up. We were in the soup, and it was thick.
I hit the toggle switch on the left handlebar to activate the RX3’s emergency flashers. I saw Carlos follow my example in my rear view mirrors, and then Juan did so, too. I fixated on Juan’s taillight and his flashers; it was really all I could see in that thick soup. I was glad I was wearing my contact lenses instead of glasses; I would not have been able to see anything if I had worn my glasses.
I could barely see the dirt road beneath my wheels (the fog was that thick). The road had not turned to mud (and for that I was grateful). I felt the moisture hitting my face. It was cold.
That dirt road and the fog we were riding through went on and on and on. I saw a sign that said we were at 3400 meters. Wow, I thought after doing a quick mental calculation. That’s over 11,000 feet! It was about as high as I’ve ever been on a motorcycle, but it was a record that would be broken just a few more miles up the road.
As we continued, the moisture continued to smack my face, but it was stinging more. I thought maybe it was freezing rain. It seemed to bother my eyes quite a bit more, too. I put my visor down and it fogged over immediately. I put it back up just as quickly as I had put it down. This was extreme riding.
13,000 feet and climbing!
Juan stopped at another sign. We were now at 3,950 meters! That’s 13,000 feet. I was cold, but I knew I had to get the camera out for a photo of the bikes next to this sign. I told Juan the elevation was amazing, and he told me we would be climbing even higher.
Then Juan noticed something on my jacket. He looked at my bike and he became very excited. My jacket and the bikes had little specks of dust on them. Those little specks were what I had felt hitting me in the face. They hadn’t been freezing rain droplets. They were volcanic dust! The volcano we were riding up to was belching its innards all over us!
Volcanic dust on my RX3 in Colombia.
Juan was excited. “I’ve been up here maybe 10 times,” he said, and I’ve never seen this. The volcano knows we are here, Joe, and it is talking to us.”
We rode another couple of miles and we arrived at the Colombian National Park headquarters for the volcano. The bikes were covered with volcanic dust. Our helmets were muddy because of it. My eyes itched, but I didn’t dare rub them. I now knew my eyes were irritated because they had cinders in them, and rubbing them would grind that dust into my eyeballs. Nope, it would be best to let the tears that were streaming down my face do what they were designed to do and wash this stuff out naturally.
The people manning the Colombian National Park told us they were sending people away, back down from the volcano because it was active. Imagine that!
A volcano!
And it was active!
Wowee!
The sign at the top told us we were at 4,138 meters. That’s 13,562 feet, folks. And we rode up here on our 250cc motorcycles!
That’s 13,562 feet above sea level, just below the rim of an active volcano!
Juan told us there was a trail that went all the way up to the volcano’s rim, and that was above 15,000 feet. The Colombian government no longer allowed any kind of motorized traffic on that trail, so we couldn’t take the motorcycles. Juan told me he had done that ride while it was still legal to do so, and he had done it on a 100cc two-stroke Yamaha while riding two up! This guy is one hardcore biker, I thought.
We stayed for a bit, we had a cup of tea, we took a few photos, and we left. That would be one more checkmark on my bucket list. I didn’t even know riding up to an active volcano had been one of the things I wanted to do in my life. Having now done it, though, I can tell you what we accomplished that day deserved a spot on the list. It felt good knowing I could say I had done it.
We rode another 10 miles or so on dirt roads, downhill all the way, to a hotel that was about as far off the beaten path as I have ever been.
It was still bitter cold as we rode down the side of the volcano, but I was feeling good. I’ve said it in every chapter, and I’ll say it again: Juan was showing me one hell of a good time. This Colombian adventure tour was the most exciting motorcycle ride of my life.
Our destination that evening was the Hotel Termales, and it was at the end of a long dirt road. The Hotel Termales was interesting. As we rode in, there were springs emerging along the side of the road. The springs were small, but they gave off a lot of steam in the cold air. I could smell the sulfur. It was obvious we were in a very geologically active region.
The dirt road leading from Volcan Nevado del Ruiz to the Hotel Termales.
As we were unloading the bikes I realized just how cold it was. The sulfur smell was heavy, but it wasn’t too objectionable. The aroma reminded me of Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming or that stretch in Baja between Mexicali and San Felipe (two other geologically active regions I had ridden through on previous motorcycle adventures).
We checked in and a young guy carried my bags up to my room. It was a great room at the far end of the hotel. I had a huge window just above the bed with a commanding view of Manizales, the nearest town nestled in a valley perhaps 30 miles away. The lights of Manizales sparkled in the evening air. It would have made a good photograph, but truth be told, I was about photographed out that night. The ride up to the volcano had been demanding and I wanted to get in that hot pool.
The bellboy explained how to work the heater. To my surprise, it was an electrical heater that blew air through an electrically-heated grid. It was noisy and I thought it might keep me up, but I enjoyed the heat it threw as soon as the guy turned it on. I thought it was odd that with all the hot water coming out of the ground the hotel opted for electrical heating. That’s what happens when you’re an engineer, I guess. You look at things and wonder why.
I met Juan and Carlos in the lobby and we went outdoors to the hot springs pool. We were in our swimsuits and, wow, it was cold out there! Juan had warned us that he pool water was scalding hot and it was best to ease into it gradually, but it was so cold out there I wanted to get submerged as quickly as I could. It was a real shock going from the frigid air into that super-hot water, but I acclimated to it quickly. It was wonderful soaking up all that heat. I had been chilled to the bone, and now I was being boiled. The water had a strong sulfur odor, but I didn’t mind that at all. I was enjoying the heat.
I found that the water temperature, while hot throughout the pool, was much hotter where the water fed into the pool. I stayed close to the water inlets as very hot water cascaded over my shoulders and neck. These areas bothered me every night, no doubt due to the muscle tension associated with riding the Colombian twisties. Those hot springs helped enormously. It was better than being in a Jacuzzi.
That night we ate in the Hotel Termales restaurant. I strayed from my usual evening meal (nearly always chicken) and I tried the truche (that’s Spanish for trout). It was exquisite. Trout in the US is always a dicey proposition. Usually there’s only a small amount of meat on the fish (US trout all belong to Weight Watchers, I suppose). That was not the case here. Even though the truche was about the same length as a US trout, it easily had twice the meat on the bone. It was succulent, it had a pink hue to it, and it almost tasted like salmon. It so intrigued me that I looked up truche up on the Internet, and I learned that trout is actually in the salmon family. In Colombia, I guess the trout family relationship is much stronger than it is in the US.
I slept like a baby that night. The hot air heater didn’t keep me up at all. It was very cold outside, but my room was toasty.
So, back to what I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter…as I fell asleep that night, I thought about everything we did that day. Day 7, just like Days 1 through 6, had been a full day. Breakfast in Honda, exploring the town and the very first bridge to cross the Magdalena River, the river museum, Fresno, hard core cornering as we climbed into the clouds, bitter cold, fog more obscure than the US tax code, dirt roads, riding higher than I had ever ridden before (above 13,562 feet!), volcanic dust from a volcano that could have used some Pepto Bismol, a hot springs bath, and a delicious trout dinner. It had been another day in Paradise. I was loving it.
I thought about everything we had done during the day, and then I realized tomorrow was Day 8. I felt a strong twinge of regret when I realized it would be our last day on the road in Colombia.
And there you have it! If you want to read the entire story, get yourself a copy of Moto Colombia!
I’ve enjoyed fantastic adventure rides on fantastic motorcycles in fantastic places. One of the best adventure touring motorcycles available at any price is the Zongshen RX3 (brought to the US by CSC Motorcycles), and one of my rides on this fantastic machine was in Colombia. Colombia was one of the greatest rides ever. Want a taste of that adventure? Hey, here’s one of the chapters from Moto Colombia on a ride at extreme elevation…a visit to an active volcano. We’re presenting it here in two blogs…one today and another tomorrow. Enjoy, my friends…
Day 7: Volcan Nevado del Ruiz
Breakfast in a delightful hotel, more mountain twisties, sweltering heat, freezing cold, fog that cut visibility down to 30 feet, dirt roads, riding at 13,576 feet, hot sulfur baths, a burbling volcano that killed 23,000 people in 1985, and volcanic dust in our eyes…it would all be in a day’s ride for us on this, our 7th day on the road in Colombia.
The Casa Belle Epoque was a great little boutique hotel in Honda. It was one of the coolest places (in one of the hottest cities) I’ve ever parked a motorcycle in front of (uh oh, I just ended a sentence with a preposition, but you get the idea). As always, I was up early, but the hotel staff was up even earlier and I enjoyed a cup of dark Colombian coffee after sleeping soundly through the night. My laundry was done, it was wrapped up nicely, and it was dry. That nice lady the night before was right; my laundry had dried. I was surprised and pleased.
Carlos and Juan enjoying a magnificent morning meal in the Casa Belle Epoque.
I used the time before Juan and Carlos came down to breakfast to examine some of the antiques in the hotel’s dining room and lobby. Antiques are a big thing in Colombia, I guess. I remembered the restaurant from a few days ago similarly adorned with old things. I thought about writing to Mike and Frank…perhaps they could do a Colombian Pickers episode.
An antique record player in the Casa Belle Epoque.
After breakfast, Juan, Carlos, and I walked over to where the bikes had been secured for the evening. We rang the bell at another massive gate and waited for the groundskeeper to come unlock it. I half expected to see that fellow from Romancing the Stone stick his face through the window and say, “Joan? Joan Wilder?”
Juan had an exploration of Honda in mind, and as always, I followed him with Carlos riding behind me. That was our standard riding formation, and we would cover about 2600 kilometers riding Colombia in that formation. Those two guys took good care of me.
I thought the roads in Zipaquira were steep (and they were), but Honda’s cobblestone streets took things to the next level. I couldn’t believe the streets we were navigating. You might think I am exaggerating, but I am not. I didn’t quite have to slip the clutch to get up the hills, but I was pretty close to doing that. The hills in Honda were strictly first gear affairs. Someone once told me in situations like this, you just look where you want to go. That’s what I did. On these streets and on those cobblestones, I wondered if we would have had enough traction to get up the hills if the streets had been wet. The roads were that steep.
We rode up a mountainside and arrived at a most interesting bridge. It was painted bright yellow and it had wooden planks for the road surface (and they were a good 300 feet above the Magdalena). This was real Indiana Jones stuff. Juan and Carlos told me the bridge was built by the San Francisco Bridge Company in 1898 and it was the first bridge in Colombia to span the Magdalena River. The photo ops were incredible with the bright yellow bridge, the bright blue sky, the verdant green of the mountains, and the river below us.
The first bridge across the Magdalena River, built by the San Francisco Bridge Company in 1898.
An older woman emerged from a stone house on our side of the bridge and she smiled when I pointed to my camera. She somehow reminded me of my grandmother. She was full of smiles until I put the camera up, and then I couldn’t get her to smile (my grandmother had the same uneasiness around a camera).
The bridgekeeper in Honda. This charming Colombian lady graciously consented to a photograph.
There were folks way below us digging in the banks of the Magdalena (I don’t know for what…perhaps some form of freshwater clams, or maybe gold or emeralds). I looked at those guys below the bridges, I thought of the Internet trolls who love to criticize the RX3 (you know, trolls hanging out under bridges), and I laughed. Those Internet morons would never experience the kind of riding we were doing. All they could do was criticize. We were out here living the adventure. I felt a brief tinge of pity for the Internet trolls, but it passed quickly.
From that vantage point above the Magdalena River, we could see distant ridges in the Andes on the horizon. They were capped with snow and the clouds were just above the peaks. Juan pointed to one where the cloud seemed to emanate from the top of a mountain. It was a good 80 miles away.
Volcan Nevado del Ruiz, visible on the horizon. It erupted and killed 23,000 Colombians in 1985. It was our destination that evening.
“That is Volcan Nevado del Ruiz,” Juan said, pointing at the peak touching the clouds. I returned a blank look. “It is the volcano we are riding to today,” Juan explained.
“We’re riding to a volcano?” I asked.
“Yes,” Juan answered. “Volcan Nevado del Ruiz. It erupted in 1985 and killed many people.”
I checked out what Juan told me later that evening after I could get an Internet connection. “Many” was something north of 23,000 people. They were all killed deader than Julius Caesar, and it all happened just 30 years ago. And we were riding our motorcycles to it. I thought about the bikers I knew in California who thought they had something to brag about because they rode to the Laughlin River Run. Right.
I looked at the distant peak again and took a photo. I was really too far away to see anything, but with Juan’s explanation I knew that what had appeared to be a mountain reaching into the clouds was actually a volcano belching steam. I’ve been to a lot of places on a motorcycle, but I’ve never ridden a motorcycle (or anything else, for that matter) up to an active volcano!
We left the bridge, rode a less than a mile, and stopped at a museum dedicated to the Magdalena River’s history. As I mentioned earlier, the Magdalena River is Colombia’s version of the Mississippi. It’s huge, and Colombia developed around it. This museum in Honda was exclusively about the river.
The Magdalena River Museum in Honda.
We spent an hour at the museum. We could have spent a day there. The Magdalena River and its surrounding areas were more like the Mississippi River and the United States than I would have imagined. The Magdalena flows through cotton and coffee plantations. It was Colombia’s primary trade route as the country developed. The Colombians used large steamboats of similar design to those used on our Mississippi River in the 1800s. It was another example of how Colombia’s history paralleled the history of the United States.
The Museo del Rio Magdalena had interesting displays about the river, the crops it transported, the steamboats, the indigenous populations along the river, the early explorers, and more. The museum also had an interesting photo exhibit consisting entirely of photos shot by students using pinhole cameras of their own construction. The photos were good and I enjoyed seeing them.
I especially liked a long painting along one wall depicting the Magdalena’s 1000-mile length, and notable things along the river. It gave me a much better feel for and appreciation of the magnificent country we had been riding through. Our museum visit was a very successful one. I enjoyed it. It was one of the high points of the trip for me.
One of the halls inside the Magdalena River Museum (note the mural on the left wall showing key points along the Magdalena’s 1000-mile length).
As I mentioned, we spent an hour at the museum, and when we left Honda was sweltering again. Juan looked at my clothes and laughed. I had been worried the previous night about my laundry having enough time to dry at the hotel. It was only 10:00 a.m. and I was already drenched in sweat. My clothes were soaked.
A pretty young lady, the museum curator, gave us a tour of the museum during our visit. She seemed cool and totally at ease with the heat and the humidity. I realized as I listened to her discuss the exhibits that she was used to living in the tropics, but I still wondered how she was able to get through the day without perspiring like me.
An old riverboat photo in the Magdalena River Museum.
I like history. I think I’m too old to go back to school now, but if ever went back to college for another degree, it would be for a degree in history. I like learning about how things developed, including countries, companies, and cultures. I thought that hour in the Museo del Rio Magdalena was one of the best hours I spent during my entire stay in Colombia.
The museum visit further reinforced a thought I had earlier when we visited Boyacá about the similarities between our US culture and the Colombian culture. Our American Revolution was for independence from the British. Colombia’s war of independence did the same with the Spanish. The British took our natural resources and taxed us without representation. The Spanish looted Colombia’s gold and emeralds. We in the US have a lot of things in common with the people of Colombia.
I don’t know if Juan planned our visit to the Museo del Rio Magdalena. He did a magnificent job planning our adventure tour, but I had the impression when we spotted this museum that he made an impromptu decision to visit it. Whether our stop was planned or accidental, if you ever get to Honda, you don’t want to miss this spot.
Colombian artwork in the Magdalena River Museum.
As we left the museum and pulled our gear on, the sweat was pouring off me and I was showing the effects of the heat. Carlos told me not to worry. We would be cool soon enough as we climbed back into the Andes’ higher altitudes.
I sure was more comfortable when we were on the bikes again. Let’s generate a breeze, I thought, and we did. Juan wanted to try a new way out of Honda, and it worked. Nobody needs a GPS as long as Juan is leading the pack.
Our next destination was to be Fresno (yep, Colombia has a Fresno, too). The road between Honda and Fresno was great. You must be thinking by now that I’ve said that about every road we had ridden in Colombia. Yep, I did. And they were.
My motorcycle in Fresno. As Juan said, the traffic rules “are like suggestions to us.”
We arrived in Fresno and stopped for a break. The town followed the standard Colombian Andes Mountains formula: Steep up and down streets and a magnificent square in front of a majestic church. And Carlos had been right about the temperature. Even though it was midday and sunny, it had cooled considerably as we climbed into the mountains. Fresno was comfortable.
Fresno’s town square had an interesting exhibit with a statue of Juan Valdez and his mule, carrying only the finest Colombian coffee beans (as the commercials used to proclaim). Carlos took a photo of Mr. Valdez and me.
Juan Valdez and two jackasses in Fresno.Two young ladies in a Fresno corner store.
There were chairs and a table in front of a small store next to Fresno’s church. We bought soft drinks from two nice young ladies working there and we took seats at the table. It was relaxing sitting there, watching the good folks of Fresno go about their lives. A pretty girl pulled up on a motorcycle and parked on the sidewalk. I could get used to Fresno, I thought.
We left Fresno and stopped to refuel on the way out. The road continued to climb, the temperatures continued to drop, and the sun disappeared behind the clouds we were climbing into. It rained and little bit and then stopped. The roads dried, the sun remained hidden, and the twisties became even more glorious. I knew we were high up in the mountains. I didn’t know how high, but I knew we were way up there. I was surprised at how well the bikes were performing. Although the AKT version of the RX3 is carbureted, I couldn’t feel a drop in performance as the altitude increased (and our ride had taken us literally from sea level to over 13,000 feet).
There wasn’t any traffic (we had the road to ourselves) and Juan stepped up the pace. It was just a modest increase at first, and then he ratcheted it up. By this time I was comfortable on these twisting roads and comfortable with my heavily-laden RX3. I hung in there with Juan, with Carlos right on my tail. It just felt like the right thing to do, and it felt entirely natural.
To be continued…watch for tomorrow’s ExNotes blog. And if you want to read the entire story, get yourself a copy of Moto Colombia!
Daily destinations for a 7-day, relaxed whale watching Baja itinerary.
Good buddy Peter asked me to post a map of our recent Royal Enfield adventure ride to see the whales in Baja. That was a great suggestion, and it also provides an opportunity to suggest a great 7-day itinerary to see the whales in Baja. This was a relaxed ride of approximately 200 miles per day, and a full day off the bikes in Guerrero Negro on the day we saw the whales. One thing I want to mention up front: If you’re taking a motor vehicle into Mexico, you must insure the vehicle with a Mexican insurance policy. We insure with BajaBound, and that’s who we always recommend.
Day 1: The Los Angeles Basin to Tecate (170 miles)
The 170-mile distance I reference here is taking the 15 or the 5 south from the Los Angeles area. When you get down to the San Diego area, just find California 94 off the freeway, stay on it for about 25 miles heading east, and make a right on 188 for the 2-mile hop to Tecate.
Rolling into Tecate, Mexico!
You can make Tecate in about three hours if there’s no traffic. It’s an easy run and it gives you time to process into Mexico by picking up a visitor’s card, you can change U.S. currency into pesos, and you have time to explore Tecate a bit. An alternative route is to head south by riding over Mt. San Jacinto into Idyllwild and then take country roads through California down to Tecate, but you’ll need a full day if you do this and you would get into Tecate much later.
Jonathan and Pablo at Amores. It’s world class dining in downtown Tecate, and it is amazing.
My advice for a Tecate hotel is either the El Dorado or the Hacienda (you get to either by running straight into Tecate and turning right on Boulevard Benito Juarez. If you are with your significant other, you might consider the Amores Restaurante for dinner (it’s world class fine dining and it is superb). If you want something simpler, go for Tacos Dumas, a short walk from the Hacienda Hotel. There’s also a great Chinese restaurant across the street from the Hacienda (there are a lot of great Chinese restaurants in Mexico).
Day 2: Tecate to San Quintin (180 miles)
Day 2 starts with breakfast at 8:00 a.m. at the Malinalli Sabores Autóctonos restaurant. It’s in the same building as the Hacienda Hotel, and as explained to us by Jonathan (the head chef at the Amores restaurant) it’s the best breakfast in Tecate. I think it’s the best breakfast anywhere, and with their exotic buffet featuring different Mexican regional cuisines, it will start your day right.
Maria, one of the friendly folks who took care of us in the Malinalli Sabores Autóctonos restaurant.
After breakfast, head east on Boulevard Benito Juarez, turn right when you see the sign for the wine country, and stay on that road (it becomes Mexico Highway 3) to Ensenada. It’s Mexico’s Ruta del Vino, and the scenery and the vineyards are grand.
On Mexico’s Ruta del Vino headed for Ensenada!
After 70 miles of glorious wine country, you’ll hit Mexico Highway 1 just north of Ensenada. Turn left, hug the Pacific, and skirt through Ensenada (one of Baja’s larger cities). After Ensenada, you’ll pass through several small towns and then the road becomes the Antiqua Ruta del Vino, or Baja’s old wine country. The scenery is impressive. Stay on that road; you’ll pass through many small agricultural towns as you continue south through Baja. San Quintin is the destination on this second day of our Baja journey. There are lots of hotel options in San Quintin; my favorite is the Old Mill Hotel. Watch for the Old Mill Hotel sign, and make a right when you see it to reach San Quintin Bay and the hotel 4 miles to the west. Staying here is a tradition for Baja travelers.
When heading south in San Quintin, watch for the sign pointing to the Old Mill Hotel.Lucy, the lovely young lady who brought us beer and dinner at the Eucalipto restaurant.
There are two great restaurants on either side of the Old Mill, and the Old Mill now has its own restaurant, the Eucalipto. Good buddy Javier is the owner and head chef, and the cuisine is fabulous. You’ll get a free beer when you check into the hotel. Ask for a Modelo Negra; it’s superb.
Day 3: San Quintin to Guerrero Negro (264 miles)
This is the long stretch, and it starts with a run south from San Quintin through Los Pinos, and then roughly 20 miles along a roller coaster road skirting the Pacific. Then it’s a climb into the hills, a Mexican military checkpoint, and you’ll arrive in El Rosario. Top off at the Pemex in El Rosario, and if you’re hungry, you might have a late breakfast or an early lunch at Mama Espinoza’s (try the chicken burritos; they’re awesome). After that the Transpeninsular Highway climbs into the Valle de los Cirios and the desolation that is Baja. You’ll see several varieties of plant life that grow in Baja and no place else on Earth (including the Dr.-Suess-like cirio and the mighty Cardon cactus).
A Royal Enfield Interceptor 650, the first one to enter Mexico, parked near a giant Cardon cactus in Baja’s Valle de Los Cirios.
It gets even better when you enter the Catavina boulder fields. The area around Catavina is a magnificent region with stunning scenes. There’s a hotel on the right side of the road that seems to change ownership every time I’m down that way. The food is good (but a little on the pricey side); the trick is to get there before any tour buses arrive. A new Los Pinos 7-11 type store recently opened across the street from the hotel and it looks like they’re putting gas pumps in, which is a good thing. For now, though, if you’re on a bike we advise filling up from the guys selling gasolina out of cans. It’s 110 miles to the next gas station, and most bikes don’t hold enough fuel to make the entire 231-mile run from the Pemex in El Rosario all the way to Guerrero Negro.
You’ll want to fill up in Catavina if you’re on a motorcycle. Photo by Baja John.
After the Catavina boulder fields, it’s a run through Baja’s Pacific coastal plains to Parallelo 28, the border between Baja and Baja Sur (the two states comprising the Baja peninsula). There’s an immigration checkpoint there where you might have to produce your visitor’s form, but usually the Mexican immigration folks just wave you through. Make a right turn off the Transpeninsular Highway, and head on in to Guerrero Negro.
Joe Gresh riding through the Catavina boulder fields on a Royal Enfield Bullet.A gray whale skeleton as you make the right turn heading into Guerrero Negro. Good times ahead!
There are plenty of hotels in Guerrero Negro. I’ve stayed at the Hotel San Ignacio (no restaurant), Malarrimo’s (one of the best restaurants in Guerrero Negro), the Hotel Don Gus (they have a good restaurant), and the Hotel Los Corrales. They’re all good. The real attraction here, though, is whale watching, and that’s the topic for Day 4 of our 7-day Baja adventure.
My KLR 650 parked in front of Malarrimo’s in Guerrero Negro. It’s a decent hotel and they have a great restaurant. It’s on the right as you enter Guerrero Negro.
Day 4: Whale Watching in Guerrero Negro (0 miles).
Day 4 is a day off the bikes and a day devoted to whale watching. I always have breakfast at Malarimmo’s when I’m in Guerrero Negro. For whale watching, we’ve used Malarimmo’s and Laguna Baja’s tour service; both are great. They have morning and afternoon tours. Folks ask if the whale watching is better in the morning or the afternoon. I’ve found both are awesome (and both are just under $50 per person). The whale watching tours are only available January through March because that’s when the California gray whale herd is in Scammon’s Lagoon. You’ll be out on the boat for roughly three hours, so you’ll want to use the bathroom before you go. You can expect a genuine life-altering experience when you visit with the whales. You might think I’m exaggerating, but I am not. Bring a camera. No one will believe what you tell them about this experience unless you have pictures.
Up close and personal with a California gray whale in Scammon’s Lagoon. It is an experience like no other.
After seeing the whales, look for a fish taco van parked on northern side of the road. That’s my good buddy Tony’s Tacos El Muelle truck. Tony makes the best fish tacos on the planet. Yeah, I know, that’s another strong statement, but I know what I’m talking about here.
Tony, fish taco chef extraordinaire. Tell Tony Joe sent you.
For dinner in Guerrero Negro, there are lots of options. The Hotel Don Gus has a great restaurant, Malarimmo’s is great, and we most recently tried the San Remedio (off the main drag on a dirt road in Guerrero Negro) and it, too, was awesome.
Restaurante San Remedio in Guerrero Negro. It was authentic,and you will very likely be the only non-local guest.Brianda, who served us dinner at the San Remedio.Corvina grilled with olive oil and garlic at the San Remedio. It was 135 pesos, or about $7 US, including soup.
Day 5: Guerrero Negro to San Quintin (264 miles)
You might wonder: Are there other ways to head back north in addition to the way we came down? The short answer is yes, but the roads are sketchy and I’ve seldom felt a need to take a different route. My advice is to just go back the way you came down, and stop and smell the roses along the way. There’s plenty to see. Take photos of the things you missed. Enjoy the ride.
Joe Gresh feeling his oats on the ride north out of Guerrero Negro.Photographing a cirio plant in the Valle de los Cirios.Gresh spotted an unusual (and abandoned) geodesic dome in the desert north of Catavina on the way south and he said he wanted to stop there on the return leg north. So we did!More artwork framed our test Enfield from the geodesic dome’s interior. Gresh had the idea to grab this photo. He’s better at this than I am.
On the return leg of this adventure, you can stay at the Old Mill Hotel again. Yeah, it’s my favorite. There are other hotels in the San Quintin area, including the much larger and more modern Misione Santa Ines (which also has a great restaurant). There’s also Jardin’s, which Baja John told us about but I haven’t visited yet. One of these days I’m going to spend two or three days in and around San Quintin. It’s a cool area.
A bleu cheese salad at the Eucalipto. It was exquisite.
The Old Mill’s Eucalipto isn’t open every morning for breakfast, but that’s okay because there are lots of good places to eat once you get back on the Transpeninsular Highway heading north. If you want to pick one of the great breakfast spots, just look for any restaurante with a whole bunch of cars parked in front (the locals know what they are doing). If you’ve never had chilequiles, give this Mexican breakfast specialty a try.
Day 6: San Quintin to Tecate (180 miles)
This is the same ride we took on the way south, and my guidance is the same: Stop, smell the poppies, and grab a few photos along the way. If you can hold out for a great lunch, I have two suggestions. One is the Los Veleros in Ensenada, which is in the Hotel Coronado building as you ride along the coast. The other is Naranjo’s along the Ruta del Vino (Highway 3) back into Tecate.
The Naranjo’s dining room along the Ruta del Vino. It’s on the left as you head north to Tecate, and you’ll have to watch for it or you’ll miss one of the best restaurants in all of Mexico.Yours truly in the LA Cetto tasting room. I’m wearing my R Heroes USA workshirt, a top-quality item I’ve been wearing on every adventure ride for 10 years!
I always like to stop at the L.A. Cetto vineyard on the way home (rather than on the first part of the ride). I’ll pick up one bottle of wine (and for me, that’s either a Malbec or a Cabernet). I’d like to be able to take more home, but it’s tough to do that on a motorcycle, and you’re only allowed to bring one bottle back into the United States. Rules is rules, you know.
If you had dinner at Tecate’s Amores on the way down, you might want to try a street taco restaurante on this, your second night in Tecate. We like Tacos Dumas, just up the street from the Hacienda Hotel. It’s awesome.
For an authentic experience, try Tecate’s Tacos Dumas restaurante. Life doesn’t get any better than this.
Day 7: The Ride Home (168 miles)
This is an easy run, and for me, it starts with a breakfast at Malinalli Sabores Autóctonos in Tecate (yeah, I love that place). After that, it’s a quick stop at the Mexican immigration office to return your tourist visa (don’t skip this step; you need to check out of Mexico and simply crossing back into the US won’t do that). If you’re in a car, you’ve got to get into the long line waiting to get back across the US border. If you’re on a bike, go a block or two east of the street you took into Mexico, turn left, and look for the US border crossing. There’s a break in the K-barriers guiding the automobile line, and you can go right to the head of the line. I’ve never had a problem doing this, even though it feels like I’m doing something wrong.
And folks, there you have it: Seven glorious days of the best riding on the planet. I’m ready to go again.
If you’d like to read the rest of our recent Royal Enfield Baja adventure ride posts, here are the links…
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So…I’ve been back from Baja for a few days now and I’m just starting to get back into the groove of life in So Cal again. I had one more short video of our whale watching day I thought I’d share…
Good buddy Greg and I thought we’d head out to the range yesterday. The creek was still flowing pretty well from all of our So Cal rains and we made it across, only to find out that the range was still closed. We could have shot as full members, but we didn’t bring target stands with us thinking that the range would be open and they’d be available. Greg commented that he should have video recorded our turning the Subaru into an amphibious vehicle, and then we realized we’d soon have another opportunity…we had to get back across that creek…
That’s it for now. We have two or three more posts from the Baja trip we’ll be adding in the next few days…one focused on the dining, one on not panicking when bikes break down, and one on our itinerary (as good buddy Peter requested). This trip was a bit more relaxed than usual, in that we did about 200 miles per day and we took a full day in Guerrero Negro, and that worked out well.
The Interceptor in Baja’s wine country along the Antigua Ruta del Vino south of Ensenada. I think the Enfield is a perfect motorcycle. I thoroughly enjoyed our Baja ride on it, and I’m planning to buy one for myself. The spirit of the British vertical twin is alive and well in this fine machine. I’ll point out a few nits in this article, but folks, trust me on this: This is an amazing motorcycle.
When I was a teenager and LBJ was in the White House, my standard against which all motorcycles were judged was the 1965 Triumph Bonneville. To me, that represented the ultimate motorcycle, and to this day, it’s what I think of when people start talking about the perfect motorcycle. It’s what came to mind when Royal Enfield announced the 650 Interceptor. I think 650 cubic centimeters is a good size for a motorcycle. I think a British vertical twin is the perfect vehicle (to borrow a phrase from good buddy Melissa Pierson). And I know that Baja is the best place on the planet for a motorcycle trip. That’s why I wanted to get the new Enfield and ride it through Baja. The perfect bike on the perfect ride. I predicted it would be a great trip. I was right.
Originally, we wanted to get two Interceptors, but they weren’t available. Enfield countered with an offer of two 500cc singles. Okay, we thought, that would do, and we realized it was a gutsy move on Enfield’s part to lend the bikes to us. Then that same dealer we’ve been so disappointed in couldn’t seem to get around to getting the bikes ready for us, and the plan shifted to an Interceptor and a Bullet. Even better, thought Gresh and I, and we were off, headed south into Baja. The two different bikes would make for an interesting contrast.
It’s a funny thing; we thought the story would focus primarily on the newer bike (the Interceptor), but the Bullet proved to be a fun and interesting motorcycle (like Gresh mentioned in his blog below). Don’t get me wrong; the Interceptor is an amazing machine. In fact, I’d say it was perfect. But it was almost too good (and I’ll get to that further along in this post).
Back in the day when I was a youngster dreaming about owning a Triumph Bonneville, I only knew one guy who rode an original Royal Enfield twin. That was Ricky Stang, a guy I knew in high school (go Vikings). Everyone else who rode was either on a Triumph or a Honda. Ricky had this amazing Enfield 750 with an all-chrome gas tank. He was (and still is) a cool guy. How cool, you might wonder? Well, he bought a Mustang car and modified the emblems by chopping off the M and the U, so his car said STANG (Ricky’s last name). That’s how we rolled back in the ‘60s.
Okay, back to the main attraction: The 2019 Royal Enfield Interceptor. Let’s start with the basics. It’s a 650cc vertical twin, just like my dream bike, the ’65 Triumph Bonneville. The Enfield brochure (downloadable on the Internet) puts the “kerb” weight at 202 kg (that’s 445 lbs; the ’65 Bonneville was 363 lbs), the wheelbase at 1400mm (that’s 55 inches, just like the ’65 Bonneville), and the horsepower at 47 (the ’65 Bonneville had 50). The new Enfield has a 6-speed transmission (the ’65 Bonneville had a 4-speed). Hmm, the right displacement and the right dimensions. The Enfield weighed a bit more, but the ’65 Bonneville didn’t have disk brakes front and rear, ABS, electric start, turn signals, an oil cooler, or catalytic converters.
The Enfield engine is magnificent. It is very torquey, and on our Baja foray I never felt like I was undergunned. The exhaust note is perfect (it sounds like a real motorcycle). The engine is extremely smooth. It didn’t seem to care what gear I was in; I could just roll on the throttle and the bike responded. In fact, a lot of times I’d be riding along thinking I was in 6th gear only to discover that the bike was in 5th or even 4th. It is that smooth. And a lot of times while climbing mountains in Baja’s Valle de los Cirios, I didn’t have to bother downshifting. Twist and go. Cool. We had the bike weighed down with lots of gear on our Baja trip; the Enfield didn’t seem to care. The engine is a 4-valve per cylinder, single overhead cam design, but the Enfield folks somehow managed to pull off the styling such that it looks a lot like the original overhead valve Enfield design of the 1960s (kudos for that). It is a good-looking and brilliantly-performing motor.
Perhaps the best-looking engine in the business, this SOHC, 4-valves-per-cylinder motor strongly resembles the 1960s Enfield OHV motor. The left side engine cases make it look like a non-unit-construction engine. Well done, Enfield!
The bike never felt heavy to me. The Enfield carries its weight low and it felt light and quick everywhere. Yeah, on paper it’s 80 lbs heavier than the ’65 Bonneville. It didn’t feel like it, though. It feels good.
Enfield’s spec sheet says the bike is air-and-oil cooled, and there’s a non-obtrusive oil cooler mounted on the frame downtubes. The engine looks perfect. It’s nicely finned and you can see the thing. The exhaust system is a work of art. The mufflers are nicely shaped megaphones and brilliantly plated, and the exhaust header curvature is perfect. (Why is the word “perfect” emerging so frequently in this report?) I’m guessing the headers are a “pipe in a pipe” arrangement, as the pipes exhibited no heat discoloration. The clamps securing the exhaust headers to the cylinder head are neatly finned gizmos, just like Triumph had in the ’60s. Both sides of the engine have beautiful cases. Gresh commented that the engine’s left side cases were fashioned to make it look like the bike had separate engine and transmission cases, as Enfield had in days of yore. The Enfield guys got it right. I am impressed.
A magnificent exhaust system. The curvature of the pipes and the upswept cans are perfect.If we had any, Gresh and I could comb our hair in those engine cases.
Gresh mentioned in an earlier blog that he reached 115 mph in 5th gear and 110 mph in 6th, confirming that 6th is really an overdrive. I never took the bike over 80; it would do it, I just didn’t want to. I found the bike stable at any speed. Fuel economy is outstanding. When we took delivery of the bike, it had 847 miles on the odometer and Joe measured 60 mpg on the first tank. On our last tank, with another 1300 miles on the bike, it returned 70 mpg. It never used any oil on our trip.
The headlight is a big chrome affair, just like Triumph (and basically all the British manufacturers) used to do. The beam was good, too. It lit up the street nicely.
The bike has a single disk in front and another in the rear. Both are ABS equipped. There’s no provision that we could see to turn the ABS off. Joe slammed the rear brake on a dirt road, and you could see where the ABS activated on and off in the bike’s track. The brakes are good. I never used them hard enough to activate the ABS feature, and that was okay by me.
The fuel tank is nicely contoured with a teardrop shape (it looks like a motorcycle gas tank should). Fuel capacity is 13.7 liters (that converts to 3.6 gallons). The tank emblems are gorgeous, although there was a very slight curvature mismatch where the leading edge of the emblem interfaced with the tank. That’s my inner motojournalist kicking in. I had to find something negative to say about the bike, and folks, this is one of very few nits I had with the bike. Yeah, I’m being picky. The gas cap is of the locking variety (it unlocks with the ignition key), and the cap is not hinged on the tank. You take it completely off when refilling. The bike ran equally well on regular or premium, and we mostly ran on regular because that’s all we could get once we went further into Baja.
The badging is magnificent. No funky cheap decals here.Picky, picky, picky…there’s a slight curvature mismatch at the front of the tank emblems. It was consistent on both sides of the tank.
Here’s another nit: Joe and I both felt the left side of the bike is crowded around the footpeg. The gearshift is a little too close (I guess it could be adjusted upward, and I’d like the lever to be a little longer). The extensions for the kickstand and the centerstand extend far enough outside the bike and they are close enough to the footpeg that putting your foot down is a bit challenging. I didn’t like that all of that stuff (the gearshift, the footpeg, the kickstand extension, and the centerstand extension) stuck as far out as they did, and I had to think about where I put my foot down more than I do on other motorcycles. On the plus side, shifting was slick and effortless, there was no clunking, and the bike almost changed gears telepathically (it was that smooth). Getting the kickstand down was easy with the long extension, and pulling the bike up on the centerstand was also easy. Enfield provides a nice handhold on the left side of the bike for that purpose.
Things are crowded on the left side of the bike, and I had to be careful putting my left foot down.The shift lever was a little too low and a little too close to the left footpeg.
I’d call the instrumentation perfect (ah, there’s that word again). As I mentioned in one of the first blogs we did on the Interceptor, Enfield captured the essence of the big old Smiths instruments that used to adorn British bikes back in the ’60s. The bike has a digital, bar-based fuel gage in the left pod, an analog speedo and tach, high beam and turn signal indicators, an ABS light, and an odometer and two tripmeters. Stated differently, it has all the good stuff you need and none of the stuff you don’t. The tripmeter reset was a pushbutton between the speedo and tach. I found the tripmeter reset a little hard to actuate, but I haven’t been hitting the gym lately.
Perfect instrumentation, in my opinion. The chrome crossbar is a little cheesy.
The horn on this bike is loud. It sounds like a European automobile horn. I liked that.
On the bodywork, everything looks great. The tank, as mentioned above, is is nicely shaped and the metalflake tangerine color is stunning. The Interceptor’s fenders are nicely shaped, a bit abbreviated (which I like), silver in color, and plastic, all of which is fine by me. The bike has a deep gloss black tubular double downtube frame, and that answers the mail nicely for a refined and classic Britbike look. The seat is long, not overly cushy, flat, and comfortable (it has a cable-actuated release accessible under the right body panel). The side covers work, too. I like that they are black. It fits the overall look nicely.
The handlebar switchgear is the same as the Bullet, which is the same as the CSC motorcycles, which is the same as 90% of the motorcycles sold today. Somewhere, there’s a single factory making handlebar switchgear for everyone. My guess is that factory has a Chongqing zip code. It all works nicely. The turn signals are not self-cancelling. The clutch and front brake levers (forgive me, Joe Gresh) fell easily to hand and were light to operate. One more minor nit: Joe noticed that the front brake left was shaped such that it had a minor drag against the right handlebar switchgear housing, and that this slight drag prevented the brake lever from returning all the way to the forward position (you could touch the front brake lever with your fingers to make it go all the forward). We probably could have adjusted that interference out by repositioning the front brake lever on the handlebar, but we did not. It’s a nit that will almost certainly be gone when the bikes go into production for the US market. Joe liked the handlebar crossbar; I thought it was the only thing on the bike that looked cheap. I think it would have been better if it was an integral part of the handlebar, as Janus does on their Gryffin model and CSC does on the TT250.
Standard switchgear on the left handlebar.Standard switchgear on the right handlebar, too.There was a slight bit of interference between the switchgear housing and the front brake lever in the area denoted by the yellow arrow.
The front suspension is not adjustable, and if you have been following the ExNotes Enfield Baja blog, you know that’s okay by me. The rear suspension is adjustable for preload. As delivered to us, the rear shocks were set to a medium position. Our bike, being a preproduction prototype, did not have a tool kit, so there was no spanner to make any rear shock adjustments. You can see from some of our photos that we had the Interceptor loaded heavily with our gear and soft luggage, and I managed to bottom out the rear suspension a couple of times. No big deal. Suspension travel is about what’s needed on a street bike. The wheels are 18-inchers front and rear.
Silver fenders, unpainted wire wheels, and Pirelli tires. It all came together for a crisp, responsive, good-looking motorcycle.The rear carries 130/70-18 tires. The bike rides and handles well.
Our Enfield benefactor told us that officially the bike is to be known as the 650 INT, as the Interceptor name had some issues. I’m guessing that’s because a certain other motorcycle uses that name today (hint: that motorcycle is usually red). Ah, whatever. It seems to me that Enfield of yore (in the UK Enfield days) used the Interceptor name long before you met those nicest people on a…well, you know. And then, of course, there was the Ford Interceptor, the name the Blue Oval guys stuck on their police cruisers. So I thought I might help Enfield by suggesting a few other names. My first idea was that maybe they could call this bike the Kool Long Range 650 to honor our 1300-mile Baja adventure and the bike’s displacement, but that would abbreviate to KLR 650, and…well, you know. Another idea was that because the bike has electric starting and it is such a smooth ride, we could call it the Electra-Glide, but…well, you know. And then, because it is so well balanced and tractable with its torquey motor, we might call it the Go Slow, but that becomes GS, and I think someone is already using those initials. The tank badges are kind of gold in color and shaped like a wing, so maybe Gold Wing would work (is that already taken?). Maybe, because of where the bike is manufactured, we could just call it the Indian. What’s that? That name is already taken, too? It’s tough, I guess, naming a new bike.
Overall, I am extremely impressed with the new Royal Enfield 650 Interceptor. So much so, that I’m going to buy one if (as I mentioned in an earlier blog) I can convince the dealer that I’m not stupid and I’m not subsidizing their freight and setup fantasies. At first blush, one of the dealers told me freight and setup on this bike would be $1200. Uh huh. Look, I know that you can ship a bike anywhere in the lower 48 states for something around $350 (and that’s a max number; if you’re shipping it to a closer state it’s a lot less, and if you’re shipping several, the rates drop even more). Setup on this bike probably involves installing the mirrors, maybe the handlebars, and the front wheel, and all that should take under an hour. I don’t know why the dealers persist in this gouge-the-customer-for-freight-and-setup larceny. Well, I take that back. I do know. I just don’t like it, and I won’t pay it. A realistic freight and setup cost (to the dealer) is most likely below $350, and with a reasonable profit that number would go a little higher. But not $1200. No way, no how.
Okay, off the soapbox and back to the bike. I think the Enfield 650 is one of the best motorcycles I’ve ever ridden. It’s light, it’s smooth, it’s fast, it handles well, it gets good fuel economy, and the fit and finish are world class. It’s almost too good, in that maybe it doesn’t have the character or personality of the Bullet, or a 1965 Triumph Bonneville. But that’s a trade I’d make. Enfield hit a home run with the Interceptor. I think it’s perfect.
I came across my new good buddy Chris Alves’ photo essay about a ride across India on a Royal Enfield a day or two ago and I was impressed. Imagine that…a 3,000-mile ride across India on a Royal Enfield. That’s a bucket list ride for me. You can get to Chris’ photo essay by 
