Bikes with Engines
Sequel to My
First Bike
May / June 1951
and my school final exams
were looming-up.
Sixteen
years old and too young to even consider ownership of a motor-bike I
was
introduced to a professional bike-racer across the
counter
of my Dad's beer-shop.
He was plainly foreign, Rhodesian in fact and very well known in his
own country.
This interesting Stranger told us of his plans to ride in that
year's I.O.M. T.T.
races
and as a result I was invited to view his bike at the house
where he was lodging
in Heaton Chapel, Stockport.
I arrived at the address in time to see the bike, an AJS
7R perched on a
trailer
ready for towing to the I.O.M. Truly a sight for
sore eyes.
January
1953 / My own
first motor-bike
I think
Mum and Dad took pity on me. Although I had achieved my aim of
an
engineering apprenticeship I think M & D shared my
opinion
that I
had
exchanged a line of school desks for a line of drawing boards.
So
it was
concluded that (somehow) a motor-bike would get me out more !
Cash of course would be paramount and the minimal support I got was
Dad's
approval to withdraw money from my Post Office Savings account,
which
seems harsh on reflection but I now see as a lesson
in
asset
management.
My first bike, a BSA C11 (250cc) was found
in Warburton's Showroom,
Bullock Smithy, Hazel Grove. It cost the princely sum of £100
which cleaned
out my account, but what a good investment, as at the young age of 17 I
was
licenced to see the World beyond the tram and bus terminii
when
very few
households had a single driving licence between them.
Autumn
1955 / My second
motor-bike
It
wasn't a conscious decision to dump the BSA, more like an
act
of God.
An uncle pointed out to me that his old friend Harry had a
bike
for sale.
It was the same age as the
BSA yet had very few miles on the clock.
So I was very pleased to pay Harry his asking price of
£100.
1955 and
my
youngest brother Phil in the saddle.
The bike was a 500 Norton, seemingly immaculate but in a poor
state due to
Harry's over zealous servicing. It had
been off the road and garaged for some
time, but he had serviced it for unridden mileage
causing
overfilling of
the gearbox with oil; and the brake drums with grease! As a
result I found
that clutch was slipping and
the brakes
were useless.
Eventually I restored the bike to good running order and
she repaid me many
times over as a "transport of delight". For example, during my
service in the
in the R.A.F. (Aug '58 to Aug '60) I would often spend the weekends at
home
enjoying the journeys
"intoxicated-by-the-exuberance-of-my-own-velocity".
1958: A1 road near
Scotch Corner,
Darlington
Black
Beauty, as I had named the bike, might not have enjoyed
her
retirement as I sold her to a biker who clamped her to a
sidecar.
A reluctant combination, I think.
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1963 -
1987 twenty-four years without a bike.
But in my dreams the long-legged Norton
and I were often cruising the old roads.
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