I bought my old bike back 30 years later, and I wish I never had.
A little over 30 years ago, I owned a beautiful Royal Enfield Bullet. It was my pride and joy, and a real labor of love bike. I bought it in 1990 as an incomplete, non-runner for £800 and proceeded to spend hundreds of hours and hundreds of pounds getting it back to pristine showroom condition. I skipped nothing in its restoration. I stripped, repaired and repainted the bodywork, sent bits for rechroming, replaced a whole host of parts, and even the wheels got rebuilt with new spokes.
It was a thing of beauty, and it was mine.
It was also a symbol of my youth and, in a story I’m sure many can relate to, it survived the first child but had to go when the second rolled around. I begrudgingly sold it in 1994 for £1,500.
A necessary decision of course, but a hard one nonetheless, as the memories of repairing that bike, and then my son sitting on it as a baby, are ones that I cherished, and through the years, I’d always wondered what had happened to that bike I wished I hadn’t sold.
Bike ownership is much more transient than car ownership, and I’ve owned over 50 so far, but that bike was very much the one that got away. The one you wonder how it’s doing years later, and wish you could have it back.
That was until one day in 2023 though, when I was looking through eBay and there it was – my bike. There was no mistaking it was the one I’d owned 30 years ago, everything was the same, even down to the front registration plate that I’d hand-made with my brother-in-law.
And I had to have it.
Spending over double what I sold it for, it was finally back in my possession. It had stayed in immaculate condition, too, with only 1,400 miles more on the clock than when I sold it.
With the bike having done so few miles in the time it was away, it was surely going to be back to business, right? Not entirely.
To start, it didn’t run quite as well as when it went away. A quick inspection later and it seemed the engine bearings had gone. Further inspection revealed that it also needed a new barrel and piston. That wasn’t a quick nor cheap repair, and £1,500 later – the same amount as I sold it for – it was back.
Then the gearbox went. A further £350 for the gearbox and magneto later, I could finally get reacquainted with my old friend.
Turns out though, that was just the start of it. With each issue that was fixed, another one would pop up. Fixed the engine? The cylinder head would go. Get that solved? Clutch broke. Every problem fixed prompted another problem, creating a bike-themed game of whack a mole that I could never get on top of. The damn thing was cursed – it was like it was holding a grudge against me for getting rid of it all those years ago.
It had gone from a life of luxury, with no expense spared, to doing less than 50 miles a year, and it wanted revenge.
And with each problem that reared its head, my view on the bike soured. This wasn’t the bike I’d lavished so much love and attention on. It was a chore, a never-ending list of things that needed fixing and repairing and sorting. It spent more time in pieces than it did fully assembled, and when it was running I’d have to wear good shoes, because sure enough I’d have to push it back home.
It took a lot of my time, my energy, and my money, and with it went the good memories.
They say never meet your heroes, as you’ll only be disappointed. I’d like to add that you shouldn’t buy your old bike back either, as it might not be the same one you sold and can sour the memories of when you first had it. Learn from my mistake, and leave those cherished memories of a bike gone by where they belong – in the past.
