Today I rode to Redesdale for lunch on the Royal Enfield. I returned to Melbourne by a motley of routes, some sealed, some dirt.
It is Autumn, a wonderful season for riding. This is especially so on a Bullet. I meandered down this dirt road at 30kph, trying to absorb the space into myself, so that I might carry it within me like a light during the week.
Last Sunday I rode to Yea, then Ruffy, then to a friend's farm near Strathbogie. Again this was done on the Bullet. My new Royal Enfield is quite simply the best motorcycle I have ever owned. It is gutless, twice as tiring on day rides, and I worry about it in ways that I never do with a Japanese bike. But nothing else has the character, nothing else soothes the soul, nothing else gives abundant joy, like my Bullet.
I ate lunch at the Red Plate cafe while surrounded by bikes.
I made a friend on my way home:
