It’s been a while since I’ve seen a bloke frothing so hard so early in the morning. There we were at a servo at Mittagong in the NSW Southern Highlands. The sun had barely risen and fog was thick in the air. And it was cold, like freeze your nipples hard inside your thermal liner cold. I was at one fuel pump, peeling off my gloves and wondering if my fingers would be able to operate the fuel nozzle, when a young bloke in a work ute howled to a stop at the next pump, leapt out of the driver’s door wearing short shorts and short socks and barked, “Bloody unreal bike, mate! I’m getting off my Ps next week and I’m getting one and I can’t wait!”
So just what bike was I riding that had Junior all stoked up? A rip-roaring KTM 1290 SAR, perhaps? Or a booming big new 1200 Tiger? Or maybe a fully-farkled T7 loaded with all the fruit?
Ah, no, none of the above. Actually, it was arguably the most ‘humble’ of ADV machines I have ridden in quite a while. It was the Royal Enfield Himalayan, and while this particular ride was my first-ever experience of the famed Indian adventure mount, it was obvious the Himalayan was very well known by this passer-by and he couldn’t wait to get one of his own. On ya, son!
MADE LIKE A GUN
Full disclosure: I’d never ridden a Himalayan before this shiny pine-green test machine arrived at Surfside Motorcycles at Brookvale on Sydney’s Northern Beaches, wearing a toe tag on the bars with my name on it. It would be mine for a couple of weeks to
