A motorcycle parked in front of a tent on a pleasant green campsite

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Distant Memories

Post Received 25 October 2024

By Ian Douglas (cartoons by Ian too)

There was a gaggle of us back then. I had a battered Honda twin 125 of around 1963 vintage that somebody had sprayed white, what were they thinking of? It didn't go that well but it was 'alright', main thing I recall is how smooth it rode after my jerky Bantam. My friend had a new Honda 90 SS which seemed quick to us. My other friend had a scooter with dampers on the front wheel and his cousin had an earlier model that had been bored out to 200cc.

Our motley gang was occasionally supplemented by a small bloke on a British bike that had a side car frame attached, sadly he died before getting much older, through cancer I believe. Then there was a German chap - funnily enough on an MZ 250, who swore a lot - I got the impression that he didn't realise what some of the swearing he did actually meant. Finally, there was a BSA C15 boy who was always fun to be around, his mum and dad were similar.

The crew with their seven assorted machines would bunch up and travel from town centre to town centre, visit cafes there but mostly just hang around and bump into other not dissimilar rabbles. Every now and then there would be a spontaneous trip to the coast. Honda SS and BSA were ahead of the game as they might bring their then molls who looked good and giggled. Once, when Honda SS was one up, he charged into a huge spongy hedge out of exuberance.

Cartoon of girls outside a school being unimpressed by the guy on the bike who thinks he's so cool

There was another chap, Honda 350 twin, who lived further way and didn't join the evening sprees or the coastal trips but was there, albeit in the background. He got an apprenticeship that was time in industry so to speak and time on a sandwich course. It involved periods of long commutes. I remember the way he would stuff newspapers down his bike over trousers and jacket in an attempt not to freeze. 350 was cleverer than the rest, he'd continuously mess with the engine, I must say that it ran very well indeed.

We wasted the time that should have been spent studying for A levels. Fortunately for us there were more opportunities in those days and we eventually gained reasonable jobs. Probably the most surprising was Honda SS who became an auditor having been a poor mathematician all his life. Cannily he married the girl mentioned above who was gifted in the maths department. I got local work initially for the ready money but I could see the future in the staff, my grades were good enough for further education and there were grants available.

I took the bike to college, 200 miles away, the headlight wasn't up to the task and it got robbed of parts one night. I got a anti social hours holiday job in a bakery towards the end and saved for another 125, this time a Honda trail bike. When the course finished jobs were harder to get, I sold the motorbike for lack of funds and used a bicycle. In due course I was taken on and that involved a rail journey which was OK when it ran but this was a period of strikes, signal failures and 'driver shortage' disruptions.

Fed up with cancelled trains I was pleased to accept an MZ125 from SS who was by now established. He had been using the bike for site visits yet claiming car rates and had now moved on to an office based position. Later I took out a bank loan and upgraded to a Honda 400/4 and thereafter others. A driver abruptly turned into me but then the roads seemed less threatening or maybe I worried less. SS is no more, 350 is a recluse, Scoot with dampers lives in an executive enclave and 200 is divorced/shunned apparently. I don't know about the other two, I've lost touch.

I expect you have a history that isn't too different except you may have been more adventurous, gone abroad on your bikes for example and had a more upmarket experience. But, at the end of the day, it's that basic thrill and freedom that comes with motorcycling that's the universal pull. Cars keep you dry and safer, however they aren't so raw and sensual. There's danger with a motorbike but there's being outside, leaning and being part of the scene as opposed to observing it. Bikes are integral to our world.

Cartton 2 riders talking about going back in time next to a Tardis


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Reader's Comments

nab301 said :-
Ian , an excellent piece or reminiscing... I certainly wasn't any more adventurous than you! I did have a centre tank Honda S90 in the late 70's ( not sure what year it was ) and the
complete range of Em Zeds , 125, 150 and 250 . I must have been a bit of a loner and never travelled in groups but from 16yrs when I got my first bike was into clocking up miles around the country although I never travelled abroad ( from Ireland)
Nigel
01/11/2024 11:48:05 UTC
Ian Soady¹ said :-
Another lovely tale - thanks Ian.

My history is somehwta difeerent but shares many elements. My first bike was a Francis Barnett Plover which my dad encouraged me to go for rather than the Suzuki (I think) which I preferred. My life might have turned out differently...

That F-B, dire though it was, reliably took me to my work as a "student apprentice" with the lamented Central Electricity Generating Board at various power stations across the North East of England, including a stint at Grimsby power station. This had been destined to close with the building of Drax but as that was delayed they needed bodies to run Grimsby, a real old-school chain grate boiler powered facility. A motley bunch of us were sent there for various misdemeanours - in my case failing all (well nearly all) my exams due to too much time in the Station Tavern in Newcastle.

Being fed up with getting wet and cold on the little bike I "graduated" to cars but being impecunious could only afford those on their last legs - although my first was a Morris 1000 van which took me & three friends to Switzerland and back before expiring.

Shortly afterwards I departed the CEGB before I was pushed, having met the love of my life in Birmingham to which I then moved, complete with my current car - a very rusty Ford Anglia. A couple of months later this failed its MoT comprehensively so we were without wheels.

Idly scanning the small ads in the Birmingham Mail I found the ideal solution - a Norton 16H (500 side valve) of 1948 vintage with an Avon sidecar. I'd never bothered to pass my test on the F-B so the sidecar was great as I could take unlicensed passengers. £35 was enough to secure it and I rode it home - not without several scares as I'd never ridden an outfit and couldn't get to grips with steering instead of leaning.

Having passed my test - in those days just a couple of turns round the block and trying to avoid the examiner when he jumped out in front of me - the Norton served well after removing the sidecar and fitting a much livelier OHV engine. Until it was stolen and ditched after the thieves had attacked the engine with a sledgehammer.

For the next 10 years or so I drifted between no job, volunteering in various community enterprises and with an alternative theatre group, working as an AA patrol for a year and as a horticultural repair fitter for another year. A wide variety of - mostly - old British bikes passed through my hands during this time and formed our only transport. These included a lovely little Honda S90, a very slow BSA B31, and even slower C15, a nice Norton Dominator 99, a Bantam (even worse than the Fanny-Barnett), a Yamaha DT125E, and sundry others. I was never really part of the motorcycling fraternity, fitting with neither the Vintage lot or the modern bike brigade although had some good friends in both.

Eventually I decided that it was time I got a proper job and did a TOPS course in computer programming which opened up a whole new chapter. But that's another story.
01/11/2024 11:56:07 UTC
Bogger said :-
Loving the number plate.

Bogger
03/11/2024 12:51:16 UTC
Ren - The Ed¹ said :-
My first forays into motorcycling were with a group of friends loosely acting as a club known as "The Animal Crew". Me on a Honda H100A (which is what put me off 2 strokes) trying to ride with lads on XJR 900s and Gixer Slabsides. That wasn't working (obviously) so I hung around with a few other "yoofs" all of us on 100cc bikes because they were cheaper to insure than 125s and not much slower.

We were terribly adventurous, managing to get as far away from Leyland as, ooooh Preston and Southport and even Wigan!

I once bravely and heroically managed to get to Lowton all on my own. My motivation was purely carnal, vying for the attention of a pretty young lady with the nickname "Bina" as she like Ribena. I failed to gain her affections and the late night ride home, lost and lonesome in the dark, was terrifying for an 18 year old who was so far from home he might as well have been in Mongolia. Lowton was 25 miles from my home.

I daresay many of my explorations and mileages were covered in the search of illicit liaisons. Ormskirk, Skelmersdale, Chorley and Blackburn were all explored, interesting roads and routes found, and many times I had to ride around in search of a sign pointing to somewhere that I knew to get back home. Half the miles were covered in exciting anticipation, the other half were ridden in the sadness of failure due to the rejection of my advances.

I'm a persistent git and on the rare occasion my advances were accepted and I started dating a girl I'd find a thousand ways to get to her place. Mostly because I was lost.

I can look back on these times with a smile. BUT! Like any young man those times were filled with angst. "Does she really like me?", "Will they laugh at my silly little bike?", "She's dumped me, my world has ended, I'm never going to recover!", "Does my hair look cool, have I got the right t-shirt on?", and so on and so on and so on.

I'd like that young man's body back, I want his energy and his libido. I do not want his paranoia, I don't want his moods, I don't want his delicate ego and I don't want his attitude. I miss the highs, but I sure do not miss the lows of youth.


04/11/2024 12:41:00 UTC
Bogger said :-
I had lots of fun back in the day on my SS50 and then a KH100. The were lots of shenanigans that we got up to.

One standout episode of madness, on my behalf, involved a trip to an aqueduct in deepest darkest Staffordshire.

We climbed up to said aqueduct and were having a mooch about. I took a long hard look at the body of water in the upper canal and said it was so narrow I could jump over it, no problem!

Obviously my mates took me up on this act of bravado. Needless to say I rode home very wet.

Why are teenagers so stupid? Still am I suppose.

Bogger
05/11/2024 11:17:10 UTC

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