Royal Enfield Bullet:

The Bike That Wouldn’t Die

After 58 years of production,
little change

     There have been many great motorcycles over the years. The Crocker, the Knucklehead Harley, the Triumph and BSA Twins and the Brough Superior were all ahead of their time. They introduced new technologies, went faster and looked better than their predecessors. They all faded into the dustbin  of history as better machines took their place. All, except one.

With its connection with the company that made the Enfield rifle,
the Royal Enfield Motorcycle Company adopted the slogan
“Made Like A Gun”

     In 1949, the British Marque, Royal Enfield introduced a new version of its Bullet. It came with a brand-new overhead valve engine affixed to the frame with a recently developed set of telescopic front forks and a revolutionary swing arm rear suspension. Critics said it wouldn’t work. The rear end would be bouncing all over the place. Everyone knew that the only springs a motorcycle needed were on the rider’s seat. Besides, if you went off road you simply stood up and let your knees absorb the bumps.

The Royal Enfield Bullet Trials version was effective
in off-road competitions in the late ’40’s and ’50’s.

     The critics were soon proven wrong. The new Bullet won two gold medals at the International Six Days Trial. (The ISDT is an endurance run for off-road motorcycles which remains one of the pre-eminent motorcycle competitions in the world.) The Bullet continued to perform well off-road throughout the 1950’s while sales of street versions were strong. By the ‘60’s, however, powerful, light-weight two stroke bikes began to dominate the off-road scene. The Bullet would soldier on as a street bike and military scout/courier machine. India started importing military versions of the Bullet in 1949. They were ideal for patrolling remote stretches of its borders. During the 1950’s, the famous American Indian Motorcycle Company imported Royal Enfields under its own brand name.

Re-brander Bullet as the “Indian” Woodsman (1956)

     In its home country of England, the Bullet began to fade in popularity as more modern designs took its place. The  invasion of cheap, reliable Japanese bikes in the 1960’s didn’t help. Royal Enfield of England stopped making the Bullet in 1967. Three years later, the whole company folded. That should have been the end of the Bullet story, but it wasn’t. Remember those military models exported to India?

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Military version of the Royal Enfield Bullet
as used by the Indian Army starting in 1949

     Demand for the Bullet by the Indian Army remained strong after their initial 1949 order. In 1955, a factory in India started assembling Bullets from parts kits shipped from England. By the next year, India had the tooling to make its own Bullets for sale to the public. Demand was solid and Indian tariffs kept out the competitors that were killing British motorcycle sales. Sales to private owners soon outstripped the demand of the Army. About 20,000 bullets were built each year. With no competition, the design was frozen in time. Eventually, the machine became an anachronism, prized by people who couldn’t afford or lacked the skills to build a restored classic bike. By 1977, Enfield of India was exporting the bikes back to England. In the ‘90’s it was modified to meet US specifications and small numbers of them began to appear on our highways.

     Very few changes were made to the endearing 1949 design over the years of production in India. A Rube-Goldberg linkage was developed to switch the gearshift to the left side on American models. The antiquated drum brakes got bigger. An alternator replaced the gear-driven generator providing brighter lights. Crude smog equipment was added. In the 2000’s Bullets got a much better five-speed gearbox without the sloppy linkage of the old Albion four-speed. Later models even had electric start, but a redundant kick-starter remained for purists. (Bullets were renowned for their ability to start on the first kick.) The final 500cc Bullets with the original frame and engine style rolled off the assembly line in 2007. They were not much different from the first Bullets of fifty-eight years before. Though the new Royal Enfield 650cc twin has won the hearts of many old school enthusiasts, the Bullet remains a timeless classic.

The recently-introduced Royal Enfield 650 Twin
is drawing lots of attention for its classic styling

    I once owned a 2004 Royal Enfield Bullet “65”. It was an amazingly simple machine. With its tiny Mikarb (Mikuni knockoff) carburetor, it got 60 MPG. In spite of the antiquated design, it was fun to ride. I did find it too slow to use on 65 MPH highways. The big single had a visible thump as it idled at an incredibly low RPM. At higher speeds, the bike vibrated much more than a modern single.

My 2004 Royal Enfield Bullet 65

     The drum brakes were marginal. Mine had the newer five-speed transmission, but the rear brake pivot still crossed underneath the engine giving it a sloppy feel. Making matters worse, the pedal was a very flexible, stamped steel design. The front brakes weren’t much better. I planned my stops carefully and never followed too close. Welding was crude and the metallurgy of the alloy cylinder head was weak. A cast rocker arm broke once, leaving me stranded. I had to helicoil several rocker block stud threads when they stripped out of the soft alloy head. Adding to my woes, was a bewildering mixture of metric and Whitworth (British) bolts. I often replaced the latter with US thread bolts and aircraft locknuts. Removing the head was problematic because the head-bolt washers were so soft they riveted themselves to the studs. A weld on the fuel tank broke. Engine vibration required constant tightening of bolts and the front fender stays broke from the stress. The drive chain was an incredibly stretchy Diamond brand. I replaced it with a better chain at a thousand miles. Tires were high-quality Avons, but in a smaller size than I would have preferred. Tire options were limited due to the 19-inch wheel size.

     Though I loved the Enfield, my 400cc dirt bike with stock gearing was at least 15 MPH faster and a lot more reliable. Eventually, I parted ways with the Bullet and got an f650 BMW for street riding. Then the retro-styled Royal Enfield 650 Twin came out. It is said to be a solid design. It will do the “Ton” (100 MPH). Too late for me…

LDT 3 Jun ‘21

Cycle World Magazine loves the 2021 Royal Enfield 650 Twin 2021 Royal Enfield INT650 | Cycle World

Tulsa ’21

Image
Tulsa Race Massacre
31 May-1 June 1921

Black smoke boilin’ o’er Tusla town,

Greenwood section is burnin’ down.

Rebel pride won’t rue this day,

Colored man got in the way.

Viola was seven, she won’t forget,

A hundred years of sad regret.

Unmarked graves, lay them out,

Forget it all, leave no doubt.

Wipe it from the history book,

Never give it another look.

Love your country, warts and all,

Just hide the dead behind a wall.

LDT May 31. ‘21

Image
107 year-Old Viola Fletcher survived the Tulsa massacre

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Book link: https://azrockdodger.com/2021/10/03/the-rhythm-of-my-soul/

Section 2, Row 7, Site Number 1

Off to War
World War I

The band it was ‘a playing an uplifting martial beat,

He maybe had a sweetheart, young and soft and sweet.

His mother she stood bravely, holding back her tears,

Surely he would be OK, in spite of all her fears.

Hissing and ‘a huffing, the train blew off some steam,

Rollin’ to the platform, like in some lonesome dream.

The handshakes and the hugs, “Ye’r gonna’ do us proud!”,

They climb into the cars, to the wavin’ of the crowd.

For two long years they wait for letters in the Post,

Makin’ sure he hasn’t given up the ghost.

The hometown paper tells of a battle far away,

Though it was ferocious, the good have won the day.

Anxious weeks they roll by, no casualty report,

And everyone is hopin’ that the list is really short.

Finally there’s a letter, the Commander has regret,

The noble lad is missin’, his Mama is upset.

The battle was a seesaw, the chaos did abound,

Though they looked and looked, he was never found.

All he left were memories, that jaunty little grin,

A lad who did his chores, the dimple on his chin.

They never know he lies in Site Number One,

Still, they all are grateful for all that he’s done.

LDT May 31, ’21

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Fort Leavenworth, Kansas
Probably Civil War

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The “Laid Down” Engine

Today is the 105th running of the Indianapolis 500. As a 13 year-old I listened to the 1958 race on KLTZ radio in Glasgow. The year before there had been a technological revolution in cars. Someone got the idea to lay the Offenhauser engine that dominated the race on its side. This lowered the profile of the cars, making them faster. With the hood open, the cars looked a little weird. The entire drivetrain was shifted off the center line. Sam Hanks won the ’57 race using this design. By the ’58 race, it was obvious you couldn’t win without a “lay-down” engine. That race was marred by a first lap crash that took the life of one of my favorite drivers, Pat O’Conner. The crash took out half the field. Jimmy Bryan won in the same car Hanks had used the year before. A rookie named A.J Foyt made his debut at the 1958 race.

May be an image of outdoors
The 1958 Indy 500 first lap crash that
took the life of racing great Pat O’Connor


Film of the 1958 Indianapolis 500 race, to include the crash that claimed the life of Pat O’Connor https://youtu.be/RvNK-jXSvFU

100,000 Miles at 100 Miles an Hour!

Caliente Means Hot

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Mercury Ad touting Its 100K at 100MPH Achievement

In the Fall of 1963, Beatlemania was sweeping the land. Meanwhile, Ford’s Lincoln-Mercury Division was engaged in a spectacular stunt to prove the power and endurance of it’s sporty 289 V-8 equipped Comet Caliente. Five Comets would attempt to circle the high banks of Daytona Motor Speedway for 40 days and nights at over 100 miles an hour.

To accomplish this incredible feat, Mercury fitted its version of the Ford 289 “D”-Code engine with a slightly larger 4 barrel carburetor. (Ford would not allow them to use its more powerful solid-lifter “K” Code 289. Though the Mercury engine fell short of the High Performance Ford HiPo engine’s 271 horsepower, they called it a “K”-Code anyway.) The five cars used in the record attempt were equipped with beefier suspensions, roll bars and heavy-duty 3-speed manual transmissions. They pitted for driver changes and maintenance every two hours. Four of the five Calientes managed to complete the 100,000 miles without incident. The fifth had a broken valve spring, causing it not qualify for the record. It was repaired and set its own record for 10,000 miles at 124.421 miles an hour. The trial was slowed by two tropical storms in the area. About a hundred people; drivers, mechanics, timers and NASCAR officials participated in the affair. Mercury followed up the achievement with an ad campaign touting the slogan, “100,000 Miles at 100 Miles an Hour!’ (Actually, the fastest car averaged 108 MPH.)

Ford made its fabulous small block Windsor engine as used in the record-setting Comets from the 1962 model year to 2002. Displacements ranged from 221 to 351 cubic inches. The most desirable versions were the high performance units like the Ford’s “real” “K”-Code” 289 engine with its 271 horsepower. These are mostly found in 1964 1/2-1967 Mustangs. Carroll Shelby modified the “K”-code to 306 Horsepower and fitted them in his Shelby Mustangs. Another highly sought after version of the Windsor engine is the 1969-70 Boss 302. This engine featured the better breathing cylinder heads from from Ford’s Cleveland engine series. It was rated at a modest 290 horsepower due to insurance considerations. Another great performance version of the Windsor was the High Output 5.0 used primarily in Mustangs from 1987-1993. These engines were very popular and helped end the “Malaise Era” where American cars suffered from a lack of performance. Sadly the miss-labeled “K”-Code engines used on ’64 Comets aren’t really all that desirable unless they are in one of the five 100K cars.

I have owned a bunch of Windsor small-blocks: An original 221, two 260’s, two 289’s, three 302’s, an HO 5.0 (302 CID) and two 351’s. One of the 289’s powered three different cars. The Achille’s heel of the early versions of the Windsors were their wimpy timing chains. They stretch and fail beginning at about 80,000 miles. This was made worse on the early engines which had a resin-fiber bottom timing gear to reduce engine noise. Typically, a worn timing chain will jump one tooth on start-up. The engine will still run, but the ignition and valve timing will be off. If not replaced it will jump again. This time the valves will collide with the pistons leading to a catastrophic engine failure. I got really good at replacing timing sets on all those Windsor engines. One of the few that never needed replacement was the High Output 5.0 on our ’89 Mustang LX. If you find an early Windsor small block with the original timing set, be careful when you change it. Early engines had a spacer on the front of the cam that is not used with most aftermarket timing gears. Neglect to remove it and your new timing chain will eat up your aluminum timing cover. (Don’t ask me why I know this.)

Video of Mercury’s Epic 100K at 100MPH Run

REFERENCES:

Hemmings, December 24, 2015. 1964 Mercury Comets crush or set over 100 national and world speed… | Hemmings

Moneymaker at Mustangs and More: 1964 Mercury HiPo 289 engine VIN code??? – Mustangsandmore Forums

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Long George Francis

The Outlaw and the Schoolmarm

See the source image

They said he rode with Curry, but we can never tell,

but at the ridin’ and the ropin’ we knew he did excel.

Perhaps he had a long rope, an orphan calf or two,

those farmers and the ranchers never had a clue.

Tall and slim and fitted out in the finest clothes,

Long George was the best hand, everybody knows.

From Pendleton to Calgary, he always won the prize,

started up a ranch ‘neath the big Montana skies.

He had a horse named Tony, at ‘dogging did they shine,

and for the fair Amanda, his lonely heart would pine.

She’s teachin’ school at Simpson out on the lone prairie,

but Long George stole a horse, and then he had to flee.

For two long years he hid out somewhere in the ‘Paws,

the Sheriff looked the other way, said he had no cause.

Then George he starts ‘a thinkin’ that what he done was wrong,

Then sweet Amanda says “I’ll wait, six years ain’t that long.”

 He stands before His Honor, heart upon his sleeve,

“Before I go to Deer Lodge, can I get a small reprieve?

And if ever you should grant it, I promise I won’t stray,

You know I gotta’ see my girl, she’s in a family way.”

On Christmas Eve he’s granted his final fervent wish,

He’s headed up the river, with gifts his sweetheart will cherish.

He opens up the stall and hollers out at Tony, “Shoo!

When you hit the mountains, you’ll know what to do.”

Crankin’ up the Hupmobile, he heads out in a rush,

the flurries they are flyin’, road of frozen slush.

Slippin’ and ‘a slidin’, easin’ off the clutch,

Snow is fallin’ harder, the light there isn’t much.

He missed the curve and slid off at the river bend,

Crumpled up on the ice, the car has met its end.

Looks down at his leg, the bone is stickin’ out,

A crate and some denim will fix it up no doubt.

Climbs up on the bank followin’ the road,

Maybe there’s a farmer bringin’ in a load.

He crawls a mile or more freezin’ in the snow,

he’s thinkin’s that it’s gotta’ be twenty below.

Now he’ll never make it, he’s fadin’ and forlorn,

Soon that pretty schoolmarm is gonna’ have to mourn.

He thinks about that pistol underneath the seat,

if he only had it, he’d match Curry’s final feat.

But all he’s got upon him is a pocket knife,

and sweet Amada Spears will never be his wife.

LDT May 14, ‘20

     Long George Francis (1874 -1920) was born in Cedar Valley, Utah. He first came to Montana with the Warbonnet Cattle Company in 1894. He is buried in Highland Cemetery in Havre, Montana. Tony, his bay horse, roamed free in the Bear Paw Mountains for years. In 2008 Long George was honored with the Montana Cowboy Hall of Fame Legacy Award.

     Schoolteacher Amanda Spears was born in Minnesota in 1890. Old-timers say she left teaching after George’s death. Her baby did not survive.

Long George and Tony 1913

REFERENCES:

     “Long George” Francis – More Than Just Outlaws (google.com)

         Celebrating History: Long George Francis – Havre Daily News

         Great Falls Tribune. Great falls Montana. December 28, 1920. 28 Dec 1920, Page 1 – Great Falls Tribune at Newspapers.com

Great Falls Tribune. December 28, 1920.

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The Comet and the UFO

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My 1961 Mercury Comet

One time I bought a Comet, blacker than the night,

And while I’m drivin’ in it, I took my greatest fright.

In the state of Utah, a Junction called La Sal,

Got a call from Chi-town, gotta’ weld the rail.

Got a job a’ waitin’ in that Colorado land,

Workin’ for Mister Muncie and his merry band.

Gotta’ load the Comet somehow stuff my bike,

In the trunk I place it, ‘fore headin’ down the Pike.“

This car is overloaded,” my Uncle shakes his head,

“better you be careful, than windin’ up all dead.”

I head out on the highway, at Cortez I turn north,

My overloaded Comet is swayin’ back and forth.

Darkness falls, the road grows deadly silent,

Six pack sits beside me, blackness out in front.

Not a car in sight as I travel through the night,

I look up at the mirror to see an awful sight.

My eyes get big as saucers, I think I’m turnin’ white.

There’s a flyin’ object in my mirror, givin’ me a fright.

Yellow oval chasin’ me, so shiny and so bright,

Never believed in UFO’s before that fateful night.

I mash that throttle through the Comet’s floor,

Hopin’ that the little Six will finally start to roar.

Alas, I cannot shake it, it’s hangin’ on my tail,

Tiny engine strivin’ hard , but it’s sure to fail.

Carvin’ up a canyon, I slide around a curve,

Lord, I think I lost it, buildin’ up my nerve.

Canyon’s full of twisties, I round another turn,

And there it is behind me, ridin’ on my stern.

The miles they’re tickin’ by, just like a turtle race,

I try to steel my nerve, the demon I must face.

A lonely hour passes, my blood is flowin’ slow,

I’m thinkin’ ‘bout my fate, there’s no place left to go.

I cannot even fathom this thing that’s chasin’ me,

Rollin’ through the night tryin’ hard to flee.

Then I spot a tiny light ‘a shinin’ up ahead,

Maybe it’s a town I say, fightin’ off the dread.

I slide into a station, spewin’ gravel to and fro,

Attendant starin’ at me as he hollers, “Whoa!”

I bolt the door to tell him about the UFO,

Then it finally hits me to my mortal woe.

That object in my mirror isn’t what I thunk,

Reflection of the moon, shinin’ off my trunk!

LDT Nov ’20

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La Sal Junction

Vic and Irene Thill’s La Sal Junction Truck Stop
Gas, Diesel, Shop, Cafe, Lounge, bunks, airstrip, it had it all…

Just south of Moab Utah is a junction called La Sal,

Sittin’ ‘neath the red rocks, it’s a beautiful locale.

Sure to take your breath away each time that you pass,

Where sits a lonesome station that used to pump the gas.

Once it was a truck stop, the diesels they rolled in,

Double-clutchin’ up the grade, patience growin’ thin.

A place where every trucker knew he had to stop,

And get some fuel or service in the little shop.

Run by Vic and Irene, had everything you need,

With Dayla in the café, a’  fixin’ up y’er feed.

One time I drove up in a broken-down old car,

Next thing that I knew they had me tendin’ bar.

And Steve’ll fix yer flivver if it should malfunction,

No, you won’t get stranded, this is La Sal Junction.

Runnin’ out of hours, the log book calls for rest,

You can tie up at LaSalle, it is the very best.

A trailer with a shower, a bunk that isn’t bad,

A night away from sleepin’ in that damn old cab.

But if you go in business, pick yer partners well,

They can take yer dream and run it straight to hell.

Just a lonesome junction, somewhere in the past,

I’m gonna’ shed a tear, ‘cause it didn’t last.       

 Apr 30, ‘21

Book LinK: https://azrockdodger.com/2021/10/03/the-rhythm-of-my-soul/

Recollections:

Johnny-Before Vic and Irene got it I used to ride with Uncle Vic in a ore hauling truck, we would stop by and get a cup of coffee, learned a lot from those days

Michelle- I have memories of chasing lizards and only havin tails. Flying in a airplane. Taking walks down the warsh. My first dog came from there, a abused truckers dog, named him Shadow. He protected me from everything and everyone. My brother Jody getting bitten by a donkey. Being in the lounge playing pool. My grandma’s accounting desk, which I still have!

Randy-  I remember going there with the folks when I was a young teen. It is the first time I remember meeting Dayla. Through the years on my trips to or from Montana, I go by and check out the place. It gets less and less like my mind’s memory! The hills, though are gonna be there forever and I remember Vic showing me bottles filled with layers of different colored sand that he had collected around the truck stop. I haven’t forgotten them, either!

Larry- For me La Sal Junction was always a place of refuge. I’d hit there lonesome, broken-hearted or down on my luck. Every time I visited, my fortunes would turn around. I had an improbable encounter with a UFO when I left there in ’67. https://azrockdodger.com/2021/05/02/the-comet-and-the-ufo/

Movies

Lots of movies were filmed in the Moab-La Sal area. Here’s john thill in The Comancheros and Rex (with Irene) in Blue.

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Humble Al’s Grenade

We called him “Humble” Al, I was proud to be his pal,

No matter what went down, you could sure depend on Al.

In Sixty-Five we sailed off to war while playin’ Crazy Eights,

Not knowin’ where or when we’d ever see the states.

 His weapon was a solder gun, the .45 is just for show,

His craft was fixin’ radios, with tubes that hum and glow.

We set up near Da Nang, while I made my wires sing,

Headquarters Ninth Marines, no peace to ever bring.

Then the day comes for returnin’ to the world.

Back where frag grenades never will be hurled.

Fly back to the Rock, we’re waitin’ for a ship,

That Golden Gate will open and end our senior trip.

We’ll brag about the exploits we have and haven’t done,

But Humble Al, he ain’t thru with havin’ all his fun.

His clothing bag is all fixed up with a secret pocket,

Damn thing holds a hand grenade, at least it ain’t a rocket.

Of grenades I know but little, I only threw just one,

Still, I’d have to say the bang was kinda’ fun.

Grenades they come in many shapes and sizes,

You gotta’ pick the right one when the need arises.

You don’t grab a frag when a smoke grenade will do.

A thermite one will turn your equipment into molten goo.

I look him in the eye, and ask, “What the hell is this?”

“A lil’ ol’ grenade, that the Commandant won’t miss.

Back home on some late night, I’m gonna’ pull the pin,

If’n I wake the dead, but harm no one, it’s really not a sin.”

About that time a typhoon blows in from the China sea,

Quonset huts are fragile, to safer digs we flee.

Mountin’ up on cattle cars, all but Al and me,

He lingers for a while, his nerves it’s gotta’ be.

He’s gonna’ hide that lil’ ol’ frag in an vacant locker,

Now I start to think, Al ain’t really off his rocker.

Minneapolis will see no disturbin’ of the peace,

Now that Humble Al his mischief will he cease.

The storm has passed, we’re returnin’ to the hut,

I look at Al, and I can tell he’s in an awful rut.

So I figure somethin’ just ain’t quite right.

His locker it is open, with no grenade in sight.

No one says a thing, it’s like it never was,

Al would spend his life, breakin’ no more laws.

Now you might be thinkin’ this tale is just a lie,

I’ll swear it’s mostly true and you never need to pry.

LDT April 23. ‘21

I served with Al Chiodo in the Far East in’64-’65.

I lost track of him when we docked in Frisco.

He died in 2016.

“Fair seas and following winds.”

Wonder if he ever told anyone this story?

Semper Fi!

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Milk River

Montana’s Milk River

Barefoot boy sittin’ on the bank,

Starin’ at a bobber waitin’ fer a yank.

Beaver makes a splash, slaps his tail,

Gone outta’ sight, leavin’ no trail.

Rope swing hangin’ from a branch,

Only the bravest take that chance.

Bare Butt Beach, no girls allowed,

 First swim across makes you proud.

White-tail deer hidden in the brush,

Take yer time, there ain’t no rush.

In the Summer the cotton flies,

Gets in yer mouth and yer eyes.

Winter freeze, break out the skates,

Beer can hockey, no goal nor gates.

Winter ends, comes the thaw,

Ice breaks up, oh such awe!

Place a stake as water’s rise,

Seek higher ground if yer wise.

Skippin’ school to fight the flood,

Settin’ sandbags in the mud.

A river kid is like a wild rose,

All scratched up, bloody nose.

Don’t get much better, boy and a dog,

Milky old river, sittin’ on a log.

LDT April 22, ’21

The Milk River joins the Missouri just below Fort Peck Dam.

The Milk is the little river that could. It steals much of its water from the Saint Mary’s Syphon. It uses the valley that the Missouri ran through before the last ice age. Fort Peck Lake filters the water of the “Big Muddy”, but the Milk soon befouls it.

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