The Ins and Outs of Motorcycle Purchasing, Chennai

After a night of our silk sleeping bags flapping in the cyclonic breeze of the fan we were using to drown out the other noises, we woke up ready to get the hell out of SMK Guesthouse. So we did. We chose Paradise Guesthouse from the Lonely Planet and walked there. Chennai was abuzz with activity. Literally every time we turned our head something crazy was happening. It wasn't the odd spot of crazy...it was everywhere. W actually can't think of any way to describe it. There are no words. No specifics. It's just a general feeling of...woah.
We arrived at Paradise Guesthouse after turning down more Tuk Tuks than we could count and dropped our luggage in our room. Still in yesterday's grotty travelling clothes and unable to brush our teeth thanks to a lack of bottled water we decided to rough it and set off for the day regardless to begin our mission of buying a motorbike. Another trusty stead that would carry us to Calcutta.
We walked towards a place Chris had found online and were made hopeful by all of the 'auto spares' shops and mechanics we passed on our way. Previous experiences of Asia were holding true...they like to have entire streets or districts dedicated to one thing, be it shoes, fabric or auto mechanics. Apparently our days start much earlier than that of the Indians as most shops, including the one we were after, were not yet open. We took the opportunity to grab our first Indian breakfast and for 24 INR by pointed at some things we didn't recognise. As we bit into them we were happy to find we had ourselves two onion bajis, a sweet chunky biscuit/cake thing and two dahl cookies that were, if it's possible, even better than those I adored in Sri Lanka.
We returned to the bike shop to find it still not open but did spot a guy climbing off a brand new Royal Enfield (just like what we were searching for) that still had part of its plastic wrap on. Could it be that he was selling this bike and our purchase would be this easy? We grabbed him for a chat and were glad we did. Speaking perfect English he informed us excitedly that he had just come from Southern Motors where he had picked up this beautiful bike for which he had been waiting eight months. Bugger. He wasn't about to sell it. He explained that only 10 000 Royal Enfields are made in India, and more specifically Chennai, each year. 7000 of them are exported leaving only 3000 for the Indians. There is an 8-9 month waiting period for any new Enfield.
We spent the next few hours exploring Chennai on foot which started out as a great idea. We took in all the sights and sounds. And then we took in too many sights and sounds and the constant barrage of honking became just a little annoying. Then frustrating. Then ear piercing. Where was that darn Theosophical Society and its lush greens when you needed it?
We visited Spencer Plaza where, like most of Chennai, shops were still opening so our visit was unproductive. Though Chris did spot a black MacBook that he's been searching for for years. Pity it was only a display shell. We set off into the heat again.
As we wandered we came across a couple of shops selling new bikes. A man enticed us with talk of some bikes but then told us we couldn't put luggage racks on them. Oh, and because we're foreigners with no proof of address in India, we can't buy one anyway. Great. After being told this about new bikes by a couple of different places we needed a new plan of attack. Rent or buy second hand?
We walked back to the shop we'd been hoping to check out first thing this morning and were rewarded with a lovely man (not the grumpy owner) who told us they didn't sell second hand bikes but the guy standing next to him happened to have a couple of Enfields he wouldn't mind selling. Whether that man had set out that morning with the intention of selling his bikes, or whether he'd spotted two naive white folk and figured he could make a quick buck remains to be seen. Regardless, his offer was too high and the gears were on the wrong side of the bike for Chris' liking. We exchanged emails with the helpful man and set off for Bells Street where we could apparently buy second hand.

Fried rice, dahl and naan. Sooooo good.

Being sick of walking we grabbed a Tuk Tuk to Bells Street and started chatting to a guy at the first place the driver led us to. Turns out he had lots of contacts and seemed to be pulling Royal Enfields out from everywhere. While having none on site when we arrived, he managed to have no less than four different bikes over the course of an hours ranging in price, condition, model, size, colour and year. All of this while, in true businessman fashion, he spent the majority of the time on one of his two mobile phones.
We narrowed it down to a 2012 Thunderbird and a 2008 Bullet Classic. We needed lunch to think. We ordered up a serve of fried rice, dahl and naan. We had to eat with our hands for the first time on the trip. It was fitting as all of the food was being eaten off a banana leaf which served as a plate. The food was amazing. We were really hoping India would pull through with its reputation for culinary delights. it has already!
Bike decision made. We would take the 2012 model. As we tried to bargain the owner of the second hand bike shop down an argument broke out as he had changed his mind as to what the price he quoted us earlier actually included. He had failed to mention the 2000 INR 'office fee.' As we tried to rationalise his mate joined the heated conversation prompting a yelled "do not talk over me" from Lauren and a "just shut up" from Chris. While this was going on the owner of the bike (a guy down the road) sold it to somebody else. Back to the drawing board.

57000 rupees.

Another four bikes were brought from who knows where for us to inspect. We decided on a 2011 Royal Enfield Electra for 107 000 INR including office fees, paperwork and insurance. Chris jumped on the back of a motorbike to go get our passports and passport photos while I chatted with the owner's mate who we had argued so profusely with not 10 minutes earlier. By the time Chris returned I had scored us an invitation to a wedding that he was catering. Now came the hard part...getting 107 000 INR in cash.
Again Chris was off on the back of a bike. He visited four ATMs trying to gather as much cash as possible. Frustrated by the 10 000 INR limit put on transactions and the 30 000 INR limit put on each ATM and the 300 INR fees that some ATMs charged you to make a withdrawal and the $1000 AUD limit our Aussie account had he returned with 57 000 INR. We figured once the time in Australia clicked over to the following day we would be able to withdraw more so we set off home for a shower and a freshen up to wait the hour out. Don't worry! We got a receipt! Scribbled on the back of one of his business cards.
So after nine hours and 20km of walking, we had found a bike and, with any luck, would at some point be able to pay for it.

Buses. Packed. Always.

Book Galore

We wandered the streets again looking for an ATM that wouldn't charge us only to find that we were over our Aussie daily limit and still couldn't withdraw more cash. At least we figure that's the problem. Who really knows. We went and informed the bike shop owner and plan to return in the morning. While it would have been awesome to have our bike on day one in Chennai, day two will be pretty good too. Then it's just the panniers, a service and helmets to worry about.
Skipping dinner. It's bedtime.

Catch up Australia