Mid week topic - riding memories

[guest7]

Biking has given me some fantastic memories. Some of them are obvious: the big trips, the great roads, meeting fantastic people. Other memories are more personal.

There was a time when I was a new biker and I hadn't ridden much further than my city. In 1987 I bought my first (and only) new bike, an XBR500. A couple of weeks later I left work in a Cardiff nightclub at two in the morning and set off for a ride. I had a loose arrangement to have breakfast in a friend's parent's hotel in Bath, but (for some reason long forgotten) I thought I'd head off on A roads to Stratford on Avon. I pulled up outside Anne Hathaway's cottage at dawn. After a little sightseeing around the town I headed off for Bath and arrived there in time for a slap-up breakfast, which set me up for the blast back home.

This minor ride was my first long solo ride on my brand new bike. Within a year my horizons had broadened as I did more ambitious trips and I would struggle now to recapture the excitement and adventure of that first night ride. It was all new to me. I can remember all of the little incidents of that ride and the people I met, including a Merthyr-born street sweeper who told me to ride away quietly so that I didn't wake the old woman who slept in a Stratford shop doorway every night. It was the first of many, many trips where I would park my bike, chat to a stranger and come away with someone's story, joys or woes. For an idiot music-obsessed clubber it was the start of seeing a broader world.

It's fair to say that this set the tone for most of my subsequent biking, a liking of trips as opposed to rides. And to be fair, if you sat me on a 500 single and set me off down empty country roads on a Spring night I would still be a very happy man.

I realise that it's not much of a travel story, but it's a special memory. What moments stand out for you, even if they might mean little to other people?

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[Steffan]

Mine would be, a country road on a warm day, the bitumen was hot and sticky, you could smell it and the grass was high and there was a hint of summer dust in the air. I had no license, the bike was a Honda Benley (original), my first bike and it was all strictly illicit and I can still feel that sunshine.

 :')

Steffan

[guest7]

...I can still feel that sunshine.

I can almost feel it too 

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[Steve Lake]

Well.... my riding experiences started at a very young age as our family transport was an outfit... thumper + double adult chair.

various thumpers and various chairs...all made by my Dad, but the memory i'll share today goes this way.......(It might get boring.. )

i'm 12, my mother had died 2 years previously, and i had a pretty good relationship with my Father... so, wherever we went it would be in the outfit. The outfit at this time comprised a 1936 500cc (Marston) Sunbeam and a single seat homemade chair. The old fella had 3 'beams at the time couple of 350 s/v's and the ohv 500, he rebuilt them himself and they were always very well turned out. (It is strange now i think about it.... the 'beams were 20 years old at the time Dad rebuilt them [which, at the time I thought was amazing].... the SRX's i now play with are 25 years old! )...ok.... so...It's 1956... summer... and me and Dad are off to the lake district on the 'beam... me map reading in the chair (the old fella had rigged up intercom... throat mics and earphones) i remember we toured the lake district for 10 days doing B&B's, was great fun... setting off home on the Friday morning (i was due to leave for scout camp on the Saturday) quite suddenly the outfit started to struggle on the hills, finally grinding to a halt 10 miles from windermere....
I learn't a few new words (Dad was a great swearer) .. he quickly established that the clutch had burned out... not good news...
A fairly comprehensive tool kit was kept in the chair, so roadside repairs were not a problem... first we had to unload the sidecar then unbolt it from the chassis and lift it off, as it was the only way to get clear access to the primary chaincase and clutch.... that sidecar was blummin heavy for a 12 year old!... while the old man was sitting on the chassis dismantling the clutch an AA man on his 350 beeza + boat box chair hauls up (yes... i think the old man was a founder member of the AA!) a long discussion took place as to the best approach to getting back on the road, it transpires that the AA man knew a Sunbeam owner in Windermere, so he'd head off and see if he had any spare clutch plates. In the meantime the clutch was removed and the corks (yup, actual corks, about 1/2 inch in diameter 20 or 30 to a plate, 4  or 5 plates) what was left of them, popped out. hour and a half later the AA man returns followed by the local sunbeam owner on a solo 350. No... he hadn't got any spare plates and the 350 plates wouldn't fit.... but... his friend was a chemist in windermere and he could get the required number of corks of the correct size (once the length had been reduced) from him... it just remained for the corks to be boiled so that they could be eased into the holes in the plates.... so off went the Sunbeam owner to get the corks, out came the primus stove and billy can, and was pleasantly boiling by the time a bag load of corks arrived, appropriately trimmed and boiled the plates were populated with corks accompanied with a lot of swearing and blowing of fingers by Father, AA man and Good samaritan. ( it took 3 lots of boiled corks, over 2 hours) the plates were then levelled off on some sandpaper and the clutch re'assembled.... it was then realised that 1 plate would have to be left out as the whole lot was too thick with the new corks. Adjusted up as best as possible everything was put back, primary chaincase oiled up... chair back on (AA man did my bit!).. loaded up... thankyou and goodbyes to Good samaritan Sunbeam man... and a promise by the AA man that he'd stay with us for 50 miles to see us out of the lake district.
We'd been by the roadside for 7 hours... and I don't remember us eating or drinking... i think we must have done.... with the AA man behind us we were making good progress  when to old man came on the intercom and said 'you know in all probability we'll have to stop and put in the extra clutch plate'.... whatever you say dad!... it's now 7 in the evening.... and would be dark when we got to fit it!
well, at some stage i must have fallen asleep.... woke up at gerards cross about midnight, we'd stopped at a caff, and i remember having a coffee and a pork pie, and the old man saying he thought the clutch would hold out.... set off fairly quickly for our Surrey home, and arrived a 4am.... the old man looked knackered (i guess he'd have been about 50, and pretty fit at the time) bushed as he was... he had me up at 8 and packed and ready for scout summer camp.... I'm pretty sure that it was this and other adventures we had that gave me my optimism and 'stickability'.... at no time did it occur to him to give up ... not in his nature.
Oh... and for the first 2 days of Scout camp i was sick as a dog..... i blamed that gerrards cross pork pie... i avoid gerrards cross to this day!.

[indiantim]

Many memories, but I suppose the most outstanding is reaching the summit of the highest road in the world, in the Himalayas on a Enfield.

Or taking my 1916 Harley Davidson through Prague, touring Czechoslovakia, passing the Semtex factory, and totally stripping the motor to investigate some vibration.

[beamer]

i remember in the mid 80's sitting on the steps of a motorway services having a fag (on my way to poole to catch the ferry) i had long greasy hair,a tatty motorhead t shirt,and a pair of scruffy leather jeans on and this old lady came up to me and thrust a pound in my hand and told me to go inside and get myself a coffee. i was gogsmacked and tried to give her the mony back but she refused to take it. i felt guilty and put it in a charity box

[Richard]

Stripping a Ducati engine clutch in a cafe car park in South Wales on the way to the V twin rally.  Just leaned it on its side against a pile of sand covered with a tarp.  Luckily I had spare clutch plates in my rucksack, can't imagine why.

Or riding the same bike in company with a mate on a big Guzzi through mid Wales on the way to a good pub and over and undertaking some poor soul on a tiddler around a wooded bend.  Noise was superb.  Contis and Lanfranconis in perfect harmony.

Or leaning under a mate on his XBR 500 on the A44, one hand on the bars.

But possibly best of all riding a Honda C70 to the west coast of Ireland - Dingle - and parking it up next to all the big GS Beemers at the top of Conner pass.  Priceless.

Right now though I would just love to have one that ruddy well worked !!!

[guest7]

Fantastic stories, keep 'em coming 

Beamer is a tramp, Beamer is a tramp!

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[beamer]

its funny you should say  that onepot,my wife says exactly the same thing.she has given up trying to get me into burtons ,quartermasters is my no'1 clothes shopping outlet

[guest7]

Well.... my riding experiences started at a very young age as our family transport was an outfit... thumper + double adult chair.
various thumpers and various chairs...all made by my Dad, but the memory i'll share today goes this way.......(It might get boring.. )

Not boring at all, it's a great story. What a trooper of a bloke

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[Ian]

My best memory came rather late in life. It was riding my SR400 to see Rod Gibson (Then Editor of CM) at Mortons in the east of england)  to have it photographed for Classic Mechanics. When I got there Rod treated me like a VIP...a gentleman if ever there was and sadly missed by all who knew him 
Bike was duly photographed and appeared in issue 237

Ian

[guest7]

its funny you should say  that onepot,my wife says exactly the same thing.she has given up trying to get me into burtons ,quartermasters is my no'1 clothes shopping outlet

Virtually every thing I wear these days comes from charity shops. There's one near here on the edge of a posh neighbourhood and the quality of the clothes is fantastic, most of it barely worn.

I went to a bike shop open night last summer in moleskins, tweed jacket, checked shirt, etc. I then had two weeks of piss taking every time I went into the shop, they all thought I was dressed like a toff. I was a bit offended by that, it seemed to imply that because I dress like a builder in the day then I cannot have nice clothes after work. I didn't let them know that every single item of clothing (with the exception of socks and underwear) was second hand and the whole lot cost less than £40.

On a similar note, some of my customers have become visibly sulky when they find out that my house is bigger than theirs. I'm sure they have convinced themselves that if they can employ someone then that person is socially inferior to them. It's all very strange. I restore the balance by saying that I ride a sidecar outfit... that's restores their air of superiority. 

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[guest40]

GOR



Maybe Steffan can translate that.

[beamer]

know what you mean onepot,i get a similar reaction when im out in my plastic pig.I get a great sense of satisfaction parking it next to the most fancy car i can find on the car park . Generaly people dont understand why i drive one by choice . but i dont care

[guest7]

I knew a bloke once, he was in his early 70s and he'd retired from an action-packed life as a commercial film maker. He was well-heeled but chose not to waste money on frivolities. His daily drive was a pukka 1940s Willys Jeep, compete with shovel on the side, that he'd picked up for a song years before.

He used to drink at a pub in the twee Vale of Glamorgan, called The Bush. The Vale is like a little Cheshire and this pub was often frequented by seriously flash bastards and it was seen as a very poor effort if you parked an unacceptably old or knackered car in the car park. Tom used to drive up there in his Willys Jeep, comfortable in the knowledge that he was considerably richer than most of the Ferrari owners. He used to say to me "You see Graham, those ghastly *******s all think their cars are better than mine, but next time we're there, you see whose car is being looked at in the car park". And he was right, you'd always see a cluster of people inspecting the jeep and ignoring the flash tackle.

That's why he was a classy bloke.

GC