Back in the day a Royal Enfield was the soundtrack of the streets, and every time I get my hands on a crankcase, I hear that same roar in my head. Restoring one feels like rewinding a tape—every bolt, every dent, a story from a time when riders chased freedom without a care in the world. The smell of oil and the hum of an old engine bring that old‑school buzz straight into the present, and I swear I can feel the twenties beating in the chrome.