If it’s true an image of your life flashes before your eyes when facing your own end, then my riding companions and I agreed India promised to be an endless bloody slide show.
We’d come to India to ride locally made Royal Enfields from the Himalayas in India’s north to India’s southern tip, Cape Cormorin, locally known as Kanyakumari. Four old farts – Steve Thurecht, the least farty of us, Simon Richardson, quite farty, my brother Ian who was very farty indeed and myself who’s only moderately farty – arrived in Srinigar, Kashmir, to ride east across the Himalayas to Leh, before turning south and down through New Delhi and the centre of India to the southern coast. That added up to around 6600km in 30 days.