When I started up the bike two days later to make the 60 k jaunt south to Alappuzha, it sputtered and stalled 30 seconds later. After each start, the bike stalled in smaller and smaller increments of time. I checked back into the hotel and then wheeled the bike five blocks to the Ernakulum Royal Enfield Showroom.
Once again the Enfield mechanics started her up and she purred beautifully. I told them to wait, sure that this time the bike would not disappoint and would soon sputter out to a stop. The mechanics continued to look at me as though they’d missed the joke. I waited. The mechanics waited. I looked intently at the idling bike, as if staring at it hard enough might embarrass it into showing its problem. I looked back at the mechanics. They raised their eyebrows. I looked back at the bike. The bike idled perfectly. I put my face into my hands. I had an oil change done anyways.
Once again the Enfield mechanics started her up and she purred beautifully. I told them to wait, sure that this time the bike would not disappoint and would soon sputter out to a stop. The mechanics continued to look at me as though they’d missed the joke. I waited. The mechanics waited. I looked intently at the idling bike, as if staring at it hard enough might embarrass it into showing its problem. I looked back at the mechanics. They raised their eyebrows. I looked back at the bike. The bike idled perfectly. I put my face into my hands. I had an oil change done anyways.
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