Café CONTINENTAL
Philosophy time over. Before I actually got down to some semi-serious spannering on Royston (I named him Royston the Royal Enfield in honour of my late cousin, who had a BSA C12, 127 BKT, and gave me pillion rides when I was knee high to a leprechaun) I studied the paperwork that came with him. There was a sheaf of receipts about an inch thick, and over the years owners had replaced all manner of brackets, bushes and bearings, the wiring harness, silencer and exhaust pipe (twice), had the big-end journal reground with a new conrod and paid for the Amal 389 to be rebored and sleeved and the jet aligned accurately.
In December 1995, it was sold for spares or repair only by a motorcycle dealer in Grimsby so, presumably, it was an insurance write-off. The new owner paid £600 and then three
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