Beachcomber's Tales from the day

Here it is then .............................

Beachcomber’s Tales from the Day August 2013


“In the beginning ………………….”

Here’s how it all began, back in the late 50’s – the teenage [ just ] Beachcomber had a healthy interest in things mechanical - much to the dissapointment of Father, who had outlined a career path in the R.A.F. as a pilot.

WW2 was still raw in everyone’s mind. And TJ senior had flown Wellingtons in the North African and European theatres – so an RAF career was a given – in his mind.

Father took on a long term contract in North Africa – ironically helping to restore the infrastructure that he and his mates had bombed just a few years earlier ::)… ahh the futility of it. He was paid obscene amounts of money by the day’s standards and within 2 years had saved up enough money to buy a suburban semi-detached house outright ! That was at a time when most of his contemporaries were living with parents or in small rented flats.

Surrounded by wooded countryside the new suburban estate was ideally situated, and was rife with enthusiastic motorcyclists. It wasn’t long before I had introduced myself to most of the more interesting bikers on the estate, and was soon learning and helping out with minor repairs.

One of my two favourites was a guy who owned a Vincent Black Shadow and a second who owned a Velocette Venom. Both took a shine to the young would be motorcyclist and were very encouraging. To the point where they’d allow me to help out with simple tasks on their bikes.

My hard work and enthusiasm soon paid dividends with the Venom owner [ Arthur ] giving me an old MAC Velo as a present for my 13th. Birthday – on the understanding it was completely stripped and rebuilt into “something useful”, Eventually with the help of a girlfriend’s enthusiastic Father – it became a Sprinter [ Drag bike ], more of that later.

Bill [ the Vinnie owner ] not to be outdone [ both WERE married BTW ] donated a James Captain – again on the understanding that it was stripped and rebuilt. That in fact was done very rapidly as the decision was made to make it into a Trials bike, which mainly meant taking things off rather than buying new bits.

In fact all the parts came from the bikers on the estate, once the word got around what was happening. One guy [ Matchless 500 Trials thumper ] donated a pair of knobbly tires with good tread, whilst another donated a Trials seat from a Greeves. Yet another worked at a Villiers engine specialist in Birmingham and donated a ported barrel, carb and a special prototype exhaust system – that was being thrown out! Alloy mudguards came from another source, and even an old battered [ but leak free ] Greeves alloy tank made an appearance.

The only item that was actually bought, was a bulb horn [ as in parp, parp ]. So it wasn’t long before the bike was being ridden around the woods and trails that surrounded the estate.

In the meantime the MAC was seen as a much longer term project – apart from anything else it WOULD require some money being spent ! That prompted a change of “employment” from that of a paper delivery boy. One shilling and sixpence [ 1/6d ] a week for 7 days [ 13 deliveries – no evening Sunday paper ] to that of a Saturday morning helper at the local DIY / General store. That grossed two shillings and sixpence [ 2/6d or “half a dollar” ] for a Saturday morning only. Tips would regularly far exceed that as the young Beachcomber loaded cars, carried wood and heating paraffin oil and generally learned the art of “customer satisfaction = rewards. Sixpence or a shilling were the normal tips – so Ten Shillings total for a Saturday morning was not out of the way. To give a yardstick – petrol was one shilling and sixpence a gallon.

The MAC was duly pulled apart, with guidance from Arthur [ and use of tools ] while a plan was being drawn up for the rebuild. During this period both Arthur and Bill regularly took me pillion to various bike events – Trials, Scrambles, Road Racing … and to a Sprint and a Hill Climb. Both of those latter events made a deep impression and it was jointly decided that the MAC should become a Sprinter / Hill Climber. In those days bikes were not so specialised and you would quite often see a Circuit bike doubling up [ trebling up ? ] as a Hill Climber and a Sprinter. One that springs to mind was the famous Vincent exponent George Brown with his “Gunga Din” and later Nero bikes.

This was the period when I learned the value of the “barter” system, having not much in the way of material possessions to barter – “labour for parts” became the order of the day. ;) A large garden shed was painted in exchange for a new 10:1 piston / rings for the MAC. A front path was laid – the swag ? A new front tyre and an Amal GP [ !! ] carb. A summer of mowing Bills lawns brought forth a suitable rear tyre, rebore and a competition Magneto.

It was Arthur who introduced me to the art of porting and general Blueprinting, his no nonsense approach of “do it right or not at all” again paid dividends.

Arthur was well known in competition circles and was always busy with 3 or 4 engines for tuning / rebuilding at any time. Eventually, that’s where most of my spare time was spent learning from a master craftsman. Although he was a Velo man, most of his engine work was with Triumphs and BSA - suited me.

By the time of my 15th Birthday I was riding the James around everywhere – even on public roads. YES, irresponsible, illegal, etc., etc………but GREAT fun while all the other teenagers were riding push bikes or catching buses.

And this was about the time that the opposite sex [ emphasis on the “sex” ] was discovered and resulted in a steady girlfriend whose Father was instrumental in setting the career path for our boy.

He also had a great interest in bikes, but also refused to let his Daughter ride pillion on my bikes. Nothing to do with me being underage and having no licence [ he thought I WAS 16 and had a licence ! ], it transpired that he had a big bike accident with his Wife when they were courting, and she was badly injured. That didn’t stop him from helping with the MAC with many parts made at his firm [ Spray Equipment manufacturers ].

The only caveat was that I had to draw up any parts I wanted made. This was facilitated by allowing me to work in his drawing office during school holidays and breaks. It was during this period that he suggested an academic education where I had secured a place at one of the country’s top Grammar Schools - King Edward 6th. Lichfield, was NOT where I should be headed. I became a proficient draughtsman and was even allowed to move from tracings to actual original drawings.

He suggested a change to a Mechanical Engineering degree, which after many arguements with my Father [ more of THAT later ] we all agreed I should undertake AFTER talking my “O” and “A” level exams – boring stuff like History, Geography, English Literature and Language, Art, Maths and Technical Drawing and French [ well at least the last two were useful ].

During one of the school holidays, the drawing office was closed for the 2 weeks general holiday shut down – so I moved into the spray shop where all the new equipment and prototypes were tested. The foreman was a gnarly old ex. Sergeant Major [ Gunnery Sergeant ? ] who detested my lack of proper respect for rules – but approved of my respect for my elders and betters. We got on reasonably well, and I learned yet another trade from a true professional. This paid dividends when it came time for the MAC frame and parts to be painted ! For the next year my spare Saturdays were spent in the spray shop learning the trade.

Finally the time was approaching for my ACTUAL driving test. At that time you had to be 16, although you could ride a machine of ANY capacity while still a learner. So, Christmas 1959 I was given the money to pay for my driving test. I decided that there was no point in delaying the test, so I applied for a date of the 1st. March 1960 – my birthday, when I would of course be 16 !

I duly filled the form in “age at time of application” as 15 years and 9 months – they sent it back with a note “how old will you be on your next birthday “ ::)…………. Dohhhhhhhhhhh. Anyway – the application date was approved for the 1st. March. I had a choice of Father’s Sprung hub T’Bird or my trusty James Captain Trials bike. On the day the T’Bird was palying up, so I opted for the James.

In those days the test examiner walked around the course you were to take [ usually one or two interlinking blocks ] whilst asking you to stop and perform various tasks. On one he literally jumped out in front of you and you hopefully stopped ! The other was a slow speed test, where you had to exhibit control at “the slowest possible pace you can go”. He started off walking slowly in front saying “come on then” – the reply being “I’ve already started”. He turned round to see me perfectly balanced, feet on the pegs with the engine running !! Not impressed / impressed, don’t know – but he passed me anyway.

This really opened the floodgates of biking heaven and I was soon going to races and Hill Climbs under my own steam. I was also gathering a large number of biking pals – mostly older than myself who had been riding for much longer – another useful life experience. I was also getting quite a reputation as an engine builder, specialising in BSA singles and Triumph twins. I’d really learned well under Arthur’s tutilage. Building various engines now was my main means of income whilst I was finishing off at Grammar School and prior to taking up my Engineering Courses.

As I was getting a reasonable amount of funds on a regular basis, I had a deal with my Father that we should buy a “decent” bike between us. He would use it to commute to work, and I would use it evenings and weekends. The bike chosen after a LOT of arguing was a 1959 250 AJS – a plodding commuter with no particular style or grace.

Yes, should have known THAT was never going to work ! Mother and Father went off on 2 week’s vacation, during which time I decided to junk the ex.Police top fairing and turn the Ajay into a Café Racer ! Clip ons, rear sets, alloy guards, etc.,etc. ……. Father was not best pleased on his return from holiday. That led to a HUGE argument resulting in Father giving me a right hander – to which I duly responded ……………… time to move out. ::)

No problem – I’ll move in with my girlfriend ……… hmmmm probably 20 years or so too early for THAT to fly. After two nights spent sleeping in the local woods – after being thrown of friend’s houses in the wee hours I really needed to find somewhere with a roof over my head.

That in turn meant a regular income, so I abandoned the full time Engineering course, got a job in a drawing office [ courtesy of SUPERB referrences from the girlfriend’s Father ] and started looking for some suitable accomodation. One of the locals who earned a living from poaching Pheasant and Trout took pity on me whilst under the influence of the 5 pints of beer I’d bought him and offered me bed in his caravan. Ever woken up in the early hours to witness several dozen hanging Pheasants ? Me, I’m a city boy !!! That was never going to work out either.

A friend put me in touch with an Aunt of his who was recently widowed, well travelled, filthy rich and even though she MUST have been at least THIRTY FIVE [ maybe even FORTY :eek:] … exceedingly fit. Imagine a young Sophia Loren …………………….

She had a beautiful cottage a mere 5 miles from where I had secured the Draughtsman job [ remember the Triumph powered Go Kart tale ?? ]. I later learned that she also had a house in the Country AND a Villa in Italy ! Her husband had been the British Consul in Milan for a number of years and had come from a wealthy family inheriting money and property. This WAS how the other half lived.

Anyway I called round to see her to discuss my moving in and terms, and she immediately “took” to me – admiring my [ then ] fiery Red hair, and commenting “how fit you look my dear”. I guess it doesn’t take a genius to see where this was going – and it did ……… ;)

I think [ memory fade ] my salary as a Junior Draughtsman was something like £8.00 per week [ for perspective ] and she said she would have to charge me “at least £1.10 shillings” [or around 1/8th of my salary – ie a joke ] for my rent – but that would include breakfast, evening meal and laundry ;D!

After a week of being spoiled rotten, she asked if I would like “breakfast in bed” as a treat for my first Saturday staying with her [ no weekend work ]. I still have that vision of her [ Mrs. Robinson? ] coming through my door with a breakfast tray and not a lot else ;D. That period was the next in the real life experiences for the young [ but fit ] Beachcomber – now with a regular girlfriend and a live in expert in all aspects of horizontal pleasures - and some vertical, upside down …….. in fact she took to leaving a copy of the Kama Sutra open at the relevant page on the coffee table in preparation for the evenings entertainment. 8)

This relationship also did wonders for my motorcycling [ and bank balance ] as I was indulged with various purchases and gifts – a Triumph Trophy and a BSA Road Rocket being the most notable.

Yep, that was never going to work long term either ………………………… 8)

It wasn’t long before my regular girlfriend sussed something was up [ or actually “not up” ! ] as the demands of Gertrude [ I shit you not – Gertrude, or “Get ‘em off Gertie” to use the vulgar ] were getting ever more frequent and bizarre - bizarre wasn’t so bad though, thinking about it. :)

Both work and study [ I was now doing a part work / part study course ] were suffering, not to mention pure exhaustion and deficiency of vitimin C from a lack of seeing daylight …………..that led me at the tender age of 18 to pack up and move back to the place of my birth in Dagenham ………where the tales REALLY began. 8)
 
To this day I maintain that my biggest error has been that I never found a wealthy older woman. This isn't helping.

Great yarn as always.
 
Even the ones who are not wealthy, have their advantages to a young lad. ;)
 
As a footnote to the Gertrude episode - I was given a solid Gold Parker pen [ which I still have ] and the money to buy an Inter Norton [ s/h ] as a "leaving" present 8) when I went back to live in Dagenham.

During the next 3 years I kept in touch with her, and visited on several occassions when I went back to see my Mother and Father [ after we made up our differences -'ish ].

I called without notice one time as I was passing through the Midlands - to find she had a new young "lodger" ;) renting my old room.

She did suggest that I stayed the night, but the thoughts of what she had in mind were just a little too bizarre ! ::)
 
I finaly managed to read though all this thread,taking gap at work,just before I sleep,ect ect....
Great story telling and I humbly give my respect to my elders and betters for all the shit they lived through.
Makes me remember all the crap I stirred as a youngster.

Perhapes grouping those tales togather not long enough as a full tale?Short little storys telling us of the day?
Got a couple myself but my story telling not nearly as good.
 
Valle de la Pascua in the dry season of 1969 was hot and dusty. It was isolated -- remote from anything and everything that had been comfortable or familiar to me. At least Caracas had resembled a modern metropolis with restaurants and theaters and modern shopping plazas. But a sweaty five-hour drive southward in a ramshackle old car with five strangers plus a driver that thought little of his own life, let alone those of his passengers, and I found myself transported to a new reality: Valle de la Pascua, deep in the llanos region of central Venezuela.

It was the beginning of a two-year Peace Corps assignment – long before all the anti-American petro politics of today. At the time, Peace Corps management had decided to move away from team deployments. They wanted us to get to know the locals and meld with regional cultures. The old team approach had apparently resulted in volunteers keeping to themselves; not integrating with the communities they were sent to serve. So they broke up the “cliques” and sent us each to our own isolated territories…sort of a ‘sink-or-swim’ approach.

Isolated is exactly what I felt. Nominal language skills in the beginning along with the novelty of being among but a handful of North Americans that had ever passed through -- let alone taken up residence in Valle de la Pascua -- made me stick out like a totem in Timbuktu.

After finding a temporary place to hang my hammock and stash a back pack, I presented myself to the regional school superintendent, a man of ample proportions but minimal social grace. He grunted towards a map on the wall where pins denoted the locations of various one-room country schoolhouses under his jurisdiction. The map presented Valle de la Pascua as if it were the center of the universe with a network of rural schools located on dirt roads and paths spiraling out some distance from town. My assignment was to travel to these schools like a circuit preacher, and teach the kids modern horticulture techniques and physical education (baseball, volleyball, etc.)

It didn’t take me long to realize that I was going to need a dirt bike to get back and forth. Hitching rides on cattle trucks was hit or miss, and trudging down remote paths carrying an olive green war surplus duffle bag had resulted in my being stopped and frisked at gun point on more than one occasion by over zealous military patrols. So I contacted my handler at the American Embassy in Caracas and told him I needed a motorcycle in order to carry out my duties. He took it under advisement and eventually agreed to fund half the cost. I hopped the next bus to Caracas to claim my prize.

In 1970, a Yamaha 250 Enduro was considered a “big” bike in Venezuela, and only a few dealerships in Caracas had them. Mopeds and scooters were the norm. As it happened, another volunteer also needed transportation, so we pooled our buying power to negotiate a deal for two of them.

If I had felt conspicuous by virtue of being the only American in Valle de la Pascua, the addition of the bright gold Yamaha 250 must have made the spectacle I presented even more mesmerizing. Ragged street urchins abandoned their shoe-shine boxes to crowd around whenever I pulled up and dismounted. It started all over again when I rolled it out in the mornings from behind it’s locked resting place. And whenever I arrived at one of my schools, the tin roofed open-wall building would erupt with laughing screaming children scrambling to feast their eyes on the “motocicleta grande”. They made me feel like a rock star.

In the end, that Yamaha 250 opened doors that I might never have opened on my own. I made friends with townspeople who imagined that the owner of such a beautiful and powerful bike must be someone worth knowing. The senoritas too became more generous with their glances and coy smiles. I presaged the Dos Equis Man.

To this day, memories of my youthful adventures in Latin America are largely characterized by the feeling I got from riding that quick and nimble 250…down dusty roads…through dry creek beds…past hectare after hectare of dry grass land, mud huts, emaciated-looking cattle, and past the smiling waving llaneros that tended to them. Things are different now in Venezuela. I feel fortunate to have had a glimpse of the “before” and to have seen it from astride a legendary machine.
 
Davetabacco said:
I finaly managed to read though all this thread,taking gap at work,just before I sleep,ect ect....
Great story telling and I humbly give my respect to my elders and betters for all the shit they lived through.
Makes me remember all the crap I stirred as a youngster.

Perhapes grouping those tales togather not long enough as a full tale?Short little storys telling us of the day?
Got a couple myself but my story telling not nearly as good.

Let's hear them DaveT ............. it's the experiences that are important to pass on.

Yes, there's loads of little anectodes - like the Guy falling off his bike when stationary without a helmet. I'll see how they could be put together in batches of maybe 4-5 at a time.

Vibration - that sure conjures up some visions.
 
Hmmmmm ...............the recent post by 77Suzuki has given me an idea for the next Tale.

I left the last Tale with the beginnings of the Cafe Racer life and times of one Beachcomber. That took us up to the early / mid Sixties and coincided with a move from the Midlands region back to my Birth town of Dagenham to take up the next phase of the Tales.

Most of the major "Tales from the Day" have already been penned, but 77Suzuki's posted question made me think about the wider Cafe Racer history, rather than just a personal one.

So this tale will be more of a generalisation of what it was like in real terms [ no Rose tinted goggles, honest Teazer ] with maybe a few of those as yet untold anectdotal "Mini-Tales" thrown in to make it more "human". There are still a few Tales to be told, and as I said before - for every Bike Tale - there's 2 auto related Tales !

As I'm still housebound "dog sitting" I'll give it some serious thought in the next several weeks - might even help me to finalise the layout of the fabled "book".

As ever, this will not be heresay - but my personal experiences and observations, and I promise to hang those Rose Tinted Goggles next to the ex RAF silk scarf [ White of course ].
 
beachcomber said:
Hmmmmm ...............the recent post by 77Suzuki has given me an idea for the next Tale.

I left the last Tale with the beginnings of the Cafe Racer life and times of one Beachcomber. That took us up to the early / mid Sixties and coincided with a move from the Midlands region back to my Birth town of Dagenham to take up the next phase of the Tales.

Most of the major "Tales from the Day" have already been penned, but 77Suzuki's posted question made me think about the wider Cafe Racer history, rather than just a personal one.

So this tale will be more of a generalisation of what it was like in real terms [ no Rose tinted goggles, honest Teazer ] with maybe a few of those as yet untold anectdotal "Mini-Tales" thrown in to make it more "human". There are still a few Tales to be told, and as I said before - for every Bike Tale - there's 2 auto related Tales !

As I'm still housebound "dog sitting" I'll give it some serious thought in the next several weeks - might even help me to finalise the layout of the fabled "book".

As ever, this will not be heresay - but my personal experiences and observations, and I promise to hang those Rose Tinted Goggles next to the ex RAF silk scarf [ White of course ].

Tale is coming along nicely ......... more historical than anything else - but there will still be personal anectdotes.

Let's face it - if you're under 60 - you weren't there ! [ Mark Wilsmore - you listening ? ] - and you'd have to be approaching your three score and ten to have been riding from the dawn of the Sixties.

Might even be broken down into the various ages - '70's, 80's etc. Anything beyond that and you young whippersnappers were there anyway !
 
Well here it is then.................. my random recollections of the life of a Cafe Racer in the mid to late Sixties.

I've mentioned relative "Tales" here and there, rather than repeat myself.

During the 70's I was more involved with cars [ designing and racing ] and I'd also moved into working for myself. Bikes were still there, but more of a background role. Also, the Cafe Racer movement had all but fizzled out from mainstream biking as even Japanese some 250 /350s could now crack the ton !

Beachcomber’s Tales from the Day ………

“ Part 1 - How it was – the Sixties” Sept 2013 TJ

This Tale is more a chronicle of what day to day life was like for a budding Café Racer in the early years of the ‘60‘s in England – a few related anectodal Tales might find their way in though ! ;)

The last Tale portrayed my early recollections up to the point where I’d left Grammar School, got a job as a Trainee Draughtsman and was busy with my new career direction in engineering, which involved two days at an Engineering College and 3 at “work”.

It was called “Day Release” or “Sandwhich Course”, and most large companies had such a scheme – apprenticeships for those who wanted a career on the shop floor and an Engineering Degree for those [ like myself ] who wanted to eventually end up in design.

So at the tender age of 18 – already having a good start on the “Worldly Wise” score, I decided to move back from the Midlands to the town of my birth – Dagenham.

Father - with a Wife and young child directly after the war, had to take work where he could, and that often meant moving round the country – and sometimes abroad for extended contracts. So as not to disrupt my education too much, I lived with my Grandparents in Dagenham until the age of 10. So it was a no brainer that I would go back to stay at my Grandparents house to get myself “sorted” when I decided to leave the Midlands.

The journey down to Dagenham WAS a bit of an adventure in itself. There were virtually no main highways, and of course NO mobile [ cell ] phones or other means of instant communications we take for granted these days in the event of a breakdown or other problem. Fortunately there was also a lack of Supermarkets [ still 10 years away ! ], which meant that village shops and petrol stations were quite plentiful along the route. As an “AA” [ Automobile Association – breakdown service ] member I DID have the member’s key to the various AA and RAC boxes which dotted the countryside. Inside you would find odd tools, medical requirements, a phone [ !! ] and more usefully a couple of gallon cans of petrol !!! The idea of course was that these were meant for that odd emergency when you ran out [ expecially at night ] and could at least get a gallon or two to take you to a petrol station. The plan was you filled up your car / bike [ cars mainly ] – drove to the nearest indicated petrol station and filled both your car / bike and the can – leaving the can with the attendant to be collected by the AA man ……………….yea right. ::)

The journey went entirely without a hitch, I even met up with a guy on a 650cc CSR Ajay, and after a few miles of burn ups we both stopped at a café for petrol and a coffee before undertaking the next 100 miles or so in each other’s company [ strength in numbers ! ]. The journey was only around 130 miles, but in those days most riding was done within a 50 mile radius of home. There were of course the diehards who travelled all over – even Europe, but they were in the minority. At odd points on the journey we were joined by variously - a Super Rocket, Vincent Comet [ an “Arthur” – Arfer Vincent ], A Douglas Dragonfly and a Café Racered BSA B33.

I was fortunate that I parted on good terms with my long time girlfriend [ she NEVER found out about Gertie ! 8)], and her Father arranged for all my Motorcycles and tools, spares etc. to be sent down to Dagenham on one of his works trucks when they were next making a delivery in the London area. So I pretty well hit the ground running – I had my bike and all my spares AND was paying virtually no rent or keep [ spoiled / only Grandchild ! ].

After a couple of weeks I had caught up with some of my old school pals and several of them were also into bikes. One [ Maurice – he of the BSA outfit " Dangerous Roy, the sidecar and the cemetary"] had become an apprentice at the Ford Motor Company. This was a huge plant on the River Thames estuary and was probably responsible for half the employment in Dagenham and surrounds. Dagenham was a sleepy little country village before the fist World War, but gradually evolved to become a huge experiment in urban expansion [ or overflow ] from the devastation of London [ mainly after the second go at destroying ourselves ]. So rural was it that it was still then part of Essex, in fact Essex still stretched well towards the East End [ Ilford, Gants Hill .................... ].

Maurice had quite usefully become a machine shop apprentice, which meant a ready source of bits of metal, nuts / bolts / rivets and other essentials for the budding Café Racer. It was through Maurice that I became involved in Ford’s own Motorcycle Club – where the sad annectode about the perils of not wearing a helmet took place [ RIP Don ]. This was a fast track into the local bike scene, as many of the younger club members were regulars at the “Lay-Bye” [ the scene of many of the Tales including “The Missing Motorcyclist # 1 “. ]

By this time [ 1963 ] the Café Racer movement was well into it’s heyday, with probably 50% of the bikes up the Lay Bye already Café Racered and another 25% + well on the way. We still had our poseurs – with some rich [ relatively ] kid turning up on a brand new Bonnie or whatever. Whenever a new kid turned up with such a rig, it wouldn’t be long before they got a challenge from one of the homebrewed Café Racers, the prize being the loser bought Hot Dogs and Coffee / Tea. I NEVER saw one of these races where the local kids lost out ! Occassionally there would be a real grudge race for cash – usually £1, that probably represented a tenth of someone’s weekly wage.

In the main the real Café Racer bikes were very well built and presented and represented hours of detailing to get the last ounce of speed. Some of us [ myself included ] got a reputation as engine builders / tuners and this was a regular and excellent source of extra revenue. Others [ like Maurice ] could produce engine plates, rear sets, and the odd pieces that you couldn’t easilly buy over the shelf. Still others made a few quid doing paint jobs, whilst at least 2 of the other guys worked at the local Chrome Platers !! Remember, this was before you could buy the relevant parts from a single retail source. – people like Dave Degens, Paul Dunstall and others were still a year or two away at this time.

That said, I do remember buying Clip-Ons for my 250 AJS in 1960 from Vale Onslows in Birmingham. Len Vale Onslow was a true legend in the bike World – Trials [?] was his main passion. He was still riding at the age of 100 !!!!!!!!! There’s a benchmark for us all. The shop is still there and it’s like going into a time warp back to the 60’s when you walk through the door. 8)

Anyway – back to Dagenham, or more precisely, Brands Hatch. Brands was just over the river [ Thames ] from Dagenham, although initially before the new tunnels were built, you had to take a 15 mile detour up river to find a crossing. Never the less it was our “Local”, and as club members you could take advantage of the clubhouse facilities – where you could meet the riders of the day. Especially great when there was an International event and the Continental Sidecar Circus was in town.

On a Wednesday you could take to the circuit for “testing”. Split mornings [ bikes ] and afternoons for cars. The cost was minimal – 5 shillings for bikes and 10 shillings for cars [ from memory ]. 20 shillings to the pound and the average wage for kids £10. Like a modern day Track Day, but without the Health and Safety aspect !

A lot of the Café Racer accessories [ tanks, alloy wheels, tyres, clip-ons, etc ] could be bought at the track paddock – even complete bikes ! Even though it was supposed to be a test day – grudge races soon evolved, and that’s where I got a taste for circuit racing and decided to give it a go [ Gold Star, Tribsas ]. I was never going to worry the top half of the field and soon realised my limitations and took first to sidecars and then Sprinting. Cost was the main factor for kicking circuit racing into touch [ plus my inability to finish higher than 8th ! ] – Sprinting was altogether a much cheaper hobby to follow as most of the gains would come from engine tuning / blueprinting.

During this period there was a trend for “working class” guys to move away from Sidecar Outfits as the normal family transport – to the new breed of cheap small cars available, and the dreaded “drip” – credit payments. Additionally solo bikes were being discarded as daily transport so there was an absolute glut of bikes to use as donors. That’s where the first Tritons and Tribsas came from.

There were hundreds of post war Triumphs – excellent twin engines in Plunger or Sprung hub frames – not so good. On the other hand there were also hundreds of BSA B31 / B33s – kissing cousins to the Goldie [ frames almost identical ] with plodding old cast iron singles and the early range of asthmatic single cylinder 350cc / 500cc Nortons [ ES2 / Model 50 ].

Both [ and especially the Norton ] had an excellent reputation for handling and could be bought for peanuts [ especially the Beezers ]. ALL the parts for a Café Racer conversion were readilly available, so the conversions were a no brainer.

My Grandfather was a regular at the Dagenham old village pub – “The Railway” and was well known locally. When the regular drinkers got to hear about my hobby – I was soon offered all sorts of bikes – usually free, or for the cost of a pint or two! Most were simply sold on, but some were well worth keeping – or at least Café Racering [ new word ]. The biggest prize being 500 AJS Trials bike – all up and running and donated after the son of the family was killed in a road accident [ car ].

Maurice spent quite a big part of his daily job producing alloy engine plates for Tritons and Tribsas !! Thanx Mr. Ford. ;) As Maurice’s best friend [ and with more of a head for business ] I took to carrying 2 or 3 sets of each along to the Lay-Bye and our local Caffs. It wasn’t long before our reputation spread and we were getting lads from the whole locality in for plates ! In fact Ted [ Ted’s caff – Gallows Hill ] – he of the G45 Tale “The Missing Motorcyclist 2 – and the G45 at Ted’s” – agreed to keep a couple of sets of each and even put up a little ad. in the Caff – my first entrepruneral enterprise ! Our cost was absolutely NIL and we split the proceeds 50-50 – twenty five shillings I seem to remember [ just over a pound ]. Ted benefitted from the additional custom generated by those calling in to buy merchandise. It soon expanded beyond that, as we moved into the Chrome plating service [ courtesy of our mates up the Lay-Bye ] Ted then took to being a drop off / collection point for parts to be plated. We did cut him in on the profits though !

Around this time I found I was earning as much building engines and then building complete bikes as I was doing my “day job” – some months, considerably more. As I spent my mornings at work out and about in the Electricity Board’s van – AND had sussed out getting accurate plans from the work gangs [ see Tale ] which meant that at least 3 hours every day was spent on “Beachcomber Business” collecting parts and delivering bikes – life was good. See “The Electricity Board, the Motorcycle Express Delivery Service and Gerry Lucas [ RIP ]” Plenty of work [ for those that wanted it ], plenty of bikes to play with, petrol was relatively cheap and I had missed out on the compulsory 2 year Military Conscription ! Even the Summers were always sunny [ ooops sorry Teazer, Rose tinted googles back in the drawer ]. Well – they SEEMED to be sunny.

Myths and Urban Legends …………………………

Record Racing [ Juke Box racing ] ……..

Absolute bollox, dreamed up by the media [ newspapers ] and BELIEVED by a handful of bikers who should have known better – many of whom ended up injured or worse by trying it out. The average juke box record was LESS THAN TWO MINUTES. Like I said – Bollox.

Mods vs Rockers Wars ………………….

Another media fueled farce. Most of us on two [ and 3 ] wheels rubbed along well enough together, until the media started printing stories of gang rivalries – which led in some cases to real violence. Of course there WERE confrontations – a couple at seaside resorts, but ALL were pre-empted by news stories the preceeding week leaking the fact that there WERE going to be violent confrontations between Mods and Rockers [ ?? ]

I had many friends who were Mods – Dangerous Roy for one. Rockers – were by definition, into Rock and Roll and WERE basically Teddy Boys on bikes [ rather than cars ]. The exotic Quiffs and hairdos were soon fucked up by the fitting of helmets – which then, most chose not to wear. Most Rockers of the day still wore Drape jackets and Brothel Creeper shoes and drove Ford Zodiacs or Vauxhall Crestas.

We NEVER considered ourselves “Rockers” and after the [ again Media ] jibes of “Coffee Bar Cowboys”, “Ton-Up Boys”, etc. failed to take root – Café Racers became the acceptable term - by us .

The headless Motorcyclist ………………

EVERYONE knew of a story of a motorcyclist that had been decapitated ……….. the only one I KNEW to be truthful was on our local highway [ I was 9 ] when a sidecarist rode into the back of a lorry carrying sheet steel – that DID do the job.

The Ton –Up ……………………

Sad to relate that 90% of the bikes in the day were not capable of getting remotely near the magic Ton. There were of course folks who claimed the Ton - usually up the Lay-Bye – where they would immediately challenged by one of us who DID have a true Ton bike to prove [ or otherwise ] their claim. These people were told they had a “High Compression Speedo” fitted, and usually never saw them again. There were a handful of factory bikes that could achieve that elusive speed – Tiger 110 [ the “Ton-Ten” ], Bonneville [ 120 ], Gold Star, Rockets and various 650 AJS / Matchless and of course one of my favourites – the Constellation. Seems like a lot n’est-ce pas ? Well, most bikes had to be in absolute top fettle to get there – and most standard bikes were not !! ::)

I came up with the idea of having a small alloy plaque engraved with “Ton Up Club” [ Maurice again ] and these were presented to those that achieved the magic mark. Not a “club” as such, but a badge of honour. These were attached to the rear number plates, and the new owner had to prove he could do the Ton on his “new” bike or it had to be removed. Jeez, wonder if any of those still exist?

Later, when the Ton became an everyday occurrence to some of us – the next goal was the “Two up”, no, NOT 200mph – but achieving the Ton with a passenger. Then of course there was the same challenge for sidecars !! There were only two of us up the Lay-Bye that achieved that – my pal John Barker [ Super Rocket / Steib ] and myself with my ex. Bob Mac Constellation attached to a Garrard Grand Prix chair. My race track refugee Triumph Kneeler and sitters were declared “ineligible” !!

There you go, don’t believe everything you read in the comics [ or see on TV shows ] that happened 50+ years ago and reported by those who weren’t there, and probably not even born

And so the 60’s ended, and with it the first wave of the Post War Café Racer movement. Japanese bikes came on the scene at the end of the 60’s and were comprehensively superior to any of the British [ and most European ] bikes. Initially they were slagged off by us 50’s / 60’s Café Racers – mainly through ignorance and envy.

The same can be said of the British Motorcycle industry who continued to self destruct whilst wallowing in past glories. Yes, the early Japanese bikes suffered with poor adhesion on the Japanese made tyres [ easilly fixed with a set of TT100s ] and yes, the handling seemed a bit suspect in the early days – but MOST of the Japanese engines were putting out almost twice as much power ! Early disc brakes were also suspect –especially in the rain [ the “chrome” non-rust variety ! ] – but were still vastly superior to any stock British front brake. Virtually all [ big ] Japanese bikes came with an electric leg and other sophistications. Italian and [ particularly ] German bikes resisted the flood – but were seriously expensive compared to the Japanese offerings.

So, the Sixties ended with British bikes being consigned to the scrappers and probably 80% of the riders opting for the cheap 4 wheeled transport that was now available. Most were now in their early / mid 20s and settling down to life – married, mortgage, 2.5 kids and a dog.

The next Café Racer age was definitely Japanese dominated – and that led to many of us 60’s lads to have our first “born again” biker phase ………………….. the “Japanese Seventies” Café Racers. …………………………………….
 
beachcomber said:
There you go, don’t believe everything you read in the comics [ or see on TV shows ] that happened 50+ years ago and reported by those who weren’t there, and probably not even born
…………………………………….

Well, I'll take your word for it. Thanks as always TJ.
 
Rich Ard said:
Well, I'll take your word for it. Thanks as always TJ.

Ha ......I sometime have a problem wondering what it is I was about to do before I forgot................but my recollections of 50 -60 years ago are crystal clear.
 
Still [plenty of down time due to dog sitting duties, but on the plus side I've been able to concentrate on getting odds and sods needed to finish off the various bike projects [ eventually ] - good old E-Bay.

Also plenty of time for thinking [ there's only SO much NCIS I can watch in any given day ! 8) ] - and that has given me time to ponder the '70's.

Although I wasn't so active socially [ bike-wise ] as the Cafe Racer scene was by now a very much minority activity.

The Japanese bike onslaught spawned a whole new breed of machine - and rider.

Never the less an interesting era in it's own right, and one I again had first hand knowledge of - so there WILL be a part 3 before Christmas.
 
Caught up with an old pal of mine who worked for me in the 70's and 80's - we had a good old rabbit at the weekend about "the good old days".

He refreshed many memories for me regarding the 70's era, as being some 15 years younger than me, he missed the 60's completely - but was very active in the 70's and early 80's.

One point totally escaped my failing memory banks - the fact that we bought an NSU [ TTS ] car engined sidecar outfit, literally as I was about to take the great big fuck off steps over the horizon from MrsB the First! :) The plan was for us to enter some Club races with it to see if I could get my National licence back.

Would have worked a treat as he loved being the Monkey, whilst I did the driving. Ah well - what might have been. We completely lost touch after I came back from my 12 month trip bumming around France with Mrs.B 2nd, and eventually he sold the outfit on without ever racing with it.

That has bolstered the meat for the 70's Tale and I'm happy that there will be some useful historic info to impart - this side of Christmas............... probably. 8)
 
Tale for the 70's almost completed now - just sorting out some generic [ and personal ] pix to go with it.

End of the month latest .........................
 
Here it is, likely to be the last for a while or so - my recollections of Biking in the 70's ...................

Beachcomber’s Tales from the Day. November 2013 November 2013

“ Into the Seventies – The Japanese are Coming [ OK, already here ]”

This will be the last of the documentary tales, as by the 80’s [ and yet another genre of bike ] a fair number of you will have been around anyway, or at least remember the antics of your own Dads and his mates.

By the end of the Sixties the initial Café Racer wave was well on the wane – most of the riders of the 60’s had settled down, got regular jobs, married, mortgages etc ……………… in other words, joined “normal“ society.

The main nail in the Café Racer coffin was the emergence of extremely rapid JAPANESE factory bikes that would do the Ton straight out of the showroom. The writing was on the wall at the end of the 60’s, with a lot of the Japanese 250s and 350s able to keep up, and even trounce Brit 500s and some 650s ! Sure they gained a reputation for poor handling initially, but taken in context, they were doing everything SO MUCH FASTER !

Although the Japanese bikes were expensive, the need - or even urge to play around with British bikes was definitely passing. Initially the Japanese offerings were dismissed by staunch Café Racers as having “no character” – but neither did they puke oil everywhere or break down with monotonous regularity. It wasn’t long before even the most blinkered and biased Brit bike fan HAD to admit that the Japanese bikes were just superior. The British bike industry made a few lame and far too late efforts to play catchup, but it was far too little too late- with the inevitable results.

As the second hand market opened up, Japanese bikes became more affordable to the point where jaded 60’s Cafe Racers begrudgingly looked upon them as a new source of donor material for Café Racers. These same 60’s bikers were also just about on their first “born again biker” phase – life had become a little too normal, and the urge to “play” was now both desirable and affordable. Strange that in the 2000s these bikes are now seen as Classic Café Racer fodder !!!

Additionally, the cheap car market was now well upon us – with cars like the Mini, Anglia, Moggy Minor etc. falling into the price range of those that would previously have had a bike or sidecar outfit. Credit [ the “ Drip “ ] was also readily available and most secondhand car dealers would take a bike in part ex. to cover the deposit on a car. MOST of these older bikes went straight to the crushers ……………………. Petrol was also relatively inexpensive, and most of the smaller cars had the same sort of mpg figures as the bigger bikes.

Several other changes started to take place by the end of the 60’s – various specialist manufacturers / suppliers had started to appear on the Café Racer market – people like Dresda [ Dave Degens ], Dunstall [ Paul Dunstall ], Unity Equipe, Rickman [ brothers Derek and Don ], Read Titan, Seeley [ Colin Seeley ]. Most of these suppliers would sell you a kit of parts to convert your Honda, Kawasaki, Suzuki or Yamaha into “something different”. This lead to the first bout of “Yea, let’s all be different together”, and were in the main dismissed by the true Café Racer as being just that – a kit of bolt on parts. That is of course pure bollox, as most Café Racers of the 60’s were built with bolt on parts – the main difference was that the parts came from several suppliers, or your mates !! Here I would make the distinction between Café Racers and “Specials” – that were true one-offs, or at least only built in one’s and two’s. Things like NSU car engined Featherbed specials, Hillman Imp an VW Beetle engined specials and so on.

These cottage industry suppliers grew to prominence in the 70’s with Rickman probably being the most successful – supplying rolling chassis kits for both circuit and off road racing. I was VERY tempted by a 750cc Enfield powered Rickman Metisse – until I pulled up at the dealers and saw THREE identical bikes on the forecourt. After a brief flirtation with a Manx Goldie, and several odds and sods that passed through my hands – I eventually bought my one and only ever new bike – a Honda 400 Four [ 1976 ]. Never missed a beat and was as quick and almost as fast as the Manx Goldstar I had just recently sold. Difference was it started first time every time at the touch of a button and required virtually no maintainance, didn’t leak oil [ OK, neither did my Goldie ] and handled / stopped better than most bikes I’d ever owned – I had sold out ! Curiously, the bike came from the dealers with UK Dunlops ?

The 70’s also heralded the universal rise in popularity of the 2 stroke as a serious Café Racer / Performance option. In the early 60’s you rarely saw a 2 stroke based Café Racer – mainly due to the small engine capacity [ relative ] and the fact that NO self respecting Café Racer wanted to be followed down the road by a noxious cloud of 2 stroke exhaust smoke [ not to mention the smell ]. Then there was that ever present “ring, tingy ting tin” exhaust note ………………dead right ,I was NOT a fan.

Apart from various Villiers engined devices [ all sub 250cc ], there was the Greeves marque in up to 380cc [ see my notes re: 380 QUB Griffon ], the Ariel Arrow and it’s derivitives [ dubbed “hairdresser’s bikes ]. There were other minority marques available in the UK – but none would give the satisfaction of a good 500 single or 650 twin.

Then – the Japanese arrived with their clever use of the 2 stroke in terms of style, technical advancement and acceptability. It wasn’t long before the major aftermarket suppliers realised this potential with rolling chassis’ soon available from Rickman and Seeley. The Bultaco Metisse was very succesful as an off road bike, a genre which Rickman seemed to favour for the 2 stroke models.

Read [ “Titan” ] championed the 2 stroke cause with the 500 Kawasaki Triple and split their loyalties between the Honda 750 and Kwacker. However, these were not complete bikes – rather heavily modified standard bikes, retaining their original frames and rolling gear. Dunstall also saw the 2 stroke emergence as a serious business – and soon majored on the Suzuki GT750. Both Dresda and Seeley had 2 stroke offerings – although their main interest was in circuit based bikes. Seeley offered a race derived rolling chassis for their Suzuki T500 offering, whilst a collaboration with QUB Belfast [ Queen’s University – Dr. Gordon Blair ] produced a vey rapid circuit bike. All that said and noted – the 4 stroke kits outsold the 2 strokes by a massive majority.

Another style phenomena of the 70’s was the emergence of Fairings, largely ignored in the 60’s. Apart from the odd foray into rider protection by some factories [ Enfield “Dreamliner”, Velocette Vogue and later the Ariel Leader ] and aftermarket suppliers, fairings in the main never made the transition from track to road. As most “fast” bikes would barely [ If ] just break the Ton, there was no real need seen for a fairing from the speed aspect – so most of the aftermarket offerings were aimed at Touring – or pure ex. Race fairings [ Peel Mountain Mile, Dolphin, etc ]. Neither was there any problem to protect the rider from wind blast on sustained 80 mph + rides of any consequence – as most Brit Bikes wouldn’t stand that kind of use. One fairing that WAS popular – the Avon or Metisse top half fairing. Fitted as standard to some Velos – and offered as an option with Metisse kits obviously. These fairings were seen as practical and not too bulky / clumsy. Still very popular today of course AND still available from the original manufacturers’ moulds [ amongst others] ! I’ve just been offered one in excellent condition [ an original ] with the Perspex nose cone for peanuts. I’ll see what it looks like on the Vindicator when it gets to the rolling stage. These were available with a matching lower fairing, but that was never popular for Café Racers.

Another 70’s style change was in the riding gear – Pudding Basin and Jet helmets had virtually given way to the new breed of full face helmets, and one piece leathers were also making the transition to road wear. NOT the race track refugee outfits we see today, but simple one layer [ lining extra ! ], no addditional protection [ apart from double layers at elbows, knees, arse ] and usually one colour. Lewis Leathers were the first to offer colours other than Black – Red or Blue ! AND with virtually NO weather protection [ See – March 2012 tale – “Father’s Easy Two [ Norton ES2 ] the Tight leathers and the Ride from Hell” ]. Rivetts were the other major Race leathers manufacturer and soon followed suit with their own colourway offerings, and soon stripes and alternate coloured body panels were being offered by both manufacturers.

Apart from some of the main suppliers, engine tuning had more or less died out by the 70’s. Mostly as power was NOT a problem for the new breed of Japanese multis and two strokes. Handling however still continued to be somewhat of an issue – the actual roadholding part cured in the main by the fitting of Dunlop’s famous “TT100s”, or Avon’s “Roadrunners”. A switch to Girling shox usually helped out, whilst front fork springs were largely ignored ! That’s also where the specialist suppliers came in – most making a frame / chassis kit that you simply slipped in your Japaneese engine of choice. Again, Rickman was the class leader although Seeley also turned out some nice kit. Problem was – cost, and it wasn’t long before the old Café Racer ethos of the 60’s started to emerge – this time aroud there were also the new fangled “Choppers” !!! If you were exceedingly rich you might go for a Bakker, Egli or Bimota chassis for your Japanese multi.

Other frame manufacturers also started to make an appearance on UK shores – people like Fritz Egli. Nikko Bakker, and Arturo Magni. Bimota and Munch. These were out of the price range of most bikers who continued to look at other alternatives. Brit engined specials lurched on for a few more years, but could not compete in the horsepower stakes. To me - this was the end of the first Café Racer era.

Japanese bikes from the factory came with non anti-social silencers – ie TOO fargin quiet! So again, there grew up quite an aftermarket for optional silencers – Dunstall being one of the best known and for a while virtually became the generic term for aftermarket silencers – “I’m fitting a set of Dunstalls at the weekend” – everyone knew you meant silencers ! Pure performance exhaust manufacturers were also quick on the uptake, with all manner of 4 into 1, 4 into 2 into 4, and any combination thereof became readilly available – at a price.

Accessory suppliers for British bikes and engines began to fall by the wayside – although one that survived and will do you superb Gold Star replica silencers [ amongst a whole range of exhausts / silencers] is Armours – a South Coast [ UK ] company that continues to supply top quality merchandise. And they have moved with the times. When I wanted a Goldie replica silencer in Stainless with a 2” [ yes 2” ] inlet and mounting brackets in my specified points – 2 weeks later I had the item and with only a £10 surcharge from the standard price ! No doubt that’s one reason they are still in business 5 decades since I first dealt with them. Unity Equipe are another outfit that has continued to supply original 60’s style Café Racer parts.


From a personal perspective – I had now [ start of the ‘70’s ] joined the ranks of the Wife, Mortgage, 2.5 kids, family car [ albeit a Camaro ! ] and my day job of Importing speed equipment and spares AND building race and road engines [ V8 ] was now taking up most of my time. Hence the purchase of the 400 Four, a nice enough bike that could be dragged out of the garage when I fancied a ride without drama. Most of the 70’s was taken up with my new hobbies of Hot Rods and Drag Racing and by the mid 70’s designing and building my own range of replica Sports cars.

Various bikes passed briefly through my hands as the 70’s began, including a wickedly quick Greeves 380QUB Griffon Scrambler and a second Manx Goldie. BOTH were serious mistakes !!!! The Greeves was mental – wheelies in every gear - that’s before most people KNEW what a wheelie was !

The Manx Goldie SHOULD have been my perfect machine. This is where I should have taken Teazer’s timely advice to ditch the Rose tinted goggles. It was a beautiful looking and well built machine. With an ex. John Tickle nickel plated Manx frame and rolling chassis, with a Joe Dunphy modified front brake. The engine was a DBD34 with Taylor Dow mods and an RRT2 gearbox. The bike was raced with some reasonable success before I put it on the road. My Rose tinted memory was telling me what a superb machine it would be – in reality it had all the usual Goldie problems – bits falling off, starting first time or catch the bus – and in reality the handling was neither as good as a standard Manx or a Goldie !!! Whoever had originally built the bike had placed the engine up quite high – I suspect initially to try to clear the Goldie oil pump housing [ hence the kink in the Goldie lower frame rail ]. When this failed, a kink was put in the Manx lower rail, but the engine plates were not modified to lower the engine again. I spent the first 2 week’s ownership safety wiring just about every fixing on the bike.

I sold the Manx Goldie in quick order to a visiting Aussie who wanted it for a National Race series back in Oz. That was bizarre in itself – I advertised the bike in the Motorcycle papers and got a call from this Aussie who was staying at the Grand Hotel in London [ THE Grand Hotel ]. I had advertised the bike with the full spec and just invited “sensible offers” – I would have been delirious to get £500. The Aussie asked me to hold the bike until he could get there – I was about 30 miles from Central London. He said he would be there in a couple of hours – I thought - “Yea right” ……………...

Sure enough, 2 hours later he turned up IN A TAXI to see the bike. It was one of those occassions when it started first time and behaved itself. Borrowing a helmet and jacket, he plonked an envelope with a thousand pounds in it as sureity in my hand – and disappeared for an hour ! I was beginning to wonder if he’d binned it or done a runner – not that I was bothered as I’d only paid £350 for the bike 6 weeks earlier. When he eventually returned [ Taxi still waiting with meter running ! ] he had a grin from ear to ear and I knew it was sold. When it came to the negotiations I was convinced it would be at least the grand I had in the envelope.

He didn’t argue, and offered me the £1000 including delivering the bike to the Grand Hotel the next week. Which I did. That’s how the new 400 Four came about – they had just come on the market and were £464.00 inc. taxes. I even treated myself to a metalflake Shoie Full face helmet – which I still have ! I thought it was the first Japanese bike that at least partially captured what old Café Racers like me wanted [ the second was the first generation 600 Bandit ]. The bike was a revelation after getting off the Manx Goldie and was certainly as quick and almost as fast as the Goldie – and nothing fell off !

The amazing thing was the rev counter – the Red zone started at DOUBLE what the Goldie would rev to ! Being brought up on Brit bikes with a 6K rev limit [ if you wanted to keep the con rods on the inside of the crankcases ]. At first I was concerned about revving it, and initially hoverred around the 8K mark. When I took it back for the dealer first service, the mechanic said – nothing much happens below 9K and I should take advantage of the upper rev limits. On the way home I did, and boy what a shock to the system. It still took me a week or two to realise that the engine wasn’t going to explode at 11 – 12K !

My second born again experience occurred in 1978 – with a new Mrs.B and in 1978 a wicked ex. Endurance Racer Laverda Jota [ See 11th March 2011 “Mrs B 3rd., Production Racing Jota & the Handbag” ] Yes, the chronology is correct – I bought the Jota whilst still with Mrs.B 2nd. and it transferred with me to Mrs.B 3rd. !!

Now that virtually DID cross the divide between a typical Brit Café Racer AND Japanese reliability. It helped that it had originally been built for Endurance racing. For it’s day it was wickedly quick [ and fast - 140 mph ] and had brakes to match. It had an Italian made three into one exhaust that terminated in a short reverse cone megaphone with NO baffles whatsoever !! Ever heard a Triple wailing at 8K plus on an open pipe !

That was another remarkably reliable bike – take it out of the garage and start / ride it. Lasted longer than the second Mrs.B as well !

As the 70’s came to a close, Japanese bikes were getting ever quicker and more sohisticated – and to me, they all looked the same - as they do now – if it’s Green it’s a Kawasaki, if it’s Blue it’s a Suzuki, if it’s Red / White it’s a Honda etc, etc, etc ………..

The Jota was eventually sold to a guy who was going to put it to it’s originally intended use – a proddie racer, and I became bikeless for a couple of decades.

Again a few odd bikes passed through my hands - CB900 Café Racer, a couple of Airhead Beemers, a 350 [364 ?] Benelli 4 - which was going down the Renzo Passolini Homage route when someone offered me obscene amounts of money for it ! A 350 Guzzi [ physically too small for me ], and a 960 GTS Duke - but nothing really took my fancy. Then I retired in 2000 from the car business [ at least full time ] – and after a month or so of “nothing to get up for in the morning”, decided it was time to get biking again – and we all know where that went [ is going ] !!!!!!!!

Typical Rickman Cafe Racer kit



Rickman Off Road kit



The Interceptor I nearly bought



Yet another Rickman variation - Race Bike



The Fuggin Uggerly Velocette Vogue



Guess Ariel took a long look at the Vogue before drawing up their Leader !!!



The Metisse / Avon top fairing



The Manx/Goldie [ that went to Oz ] - with my now 45 year old daughter Siovhan.



Royal Enfield's "Dreamliner" - ugh.............

 
Great tales BC..... I am ten years younger than you and lived in eastern Kentucky most of my life so, unfortunately, I missed the original cafe culture. I was into muscle cars most of my young life but also had several small motorbikes. At the age of 19 I was married and worked at the local Kroger grocery store. Married at the time (two children), buying my first house, working almost full time (union job) and attending college on the GI bill, I still had a good amount of disposable income. Ed Decker, one of the clerks, was always talking about how fast his Z-1 was and how easily he could drag the pegs and pull second gear wheelies. One day I grew tired of his bragging and said I did not believe him. He offered me a ride sometime so I could see he was telling the truth. That evening when we got off work I insisted that he take me a ride..... just a short one would be OK since he obviously did not want to do so. I got on the back of his Kaw....... he took off and I felt more acceleration than any of my muscle cars could muster (I had several big block Chevys in the tree years of licensed driving, including one COPO 427 Camaro). Ed hit second gear and pulled a wheelie which lasted till third gear. We were flying on that crowded Kroger parking lot...... and...... I was hooked !!!! I bought my first streetbike the next week.
 
dewjantim said:
Great tales BC..... I am ten years younger than you and lived in eastern Kentucky most of my life so, unfortunately, I missed the original cafe culture. I was into muscle cars most of my young life but also had several small motorbikes. At the age of 19 I was married and worked at the local Kroger grocery store. Married at the time (two children), buying my first house, working almost full time (union job) and attending college on the GI bill, I still had a good amount of disposable income. Ed Decker, one of the clerks, was always talking about how fast his Z-1 was and how easily he could drag the pegs and pull second gear wheelies. One day I grew tired of his bragging and said I did not believe him. He offered me a ride sometime so I could see he was telling the truth. That evening when we got off work I insisted that he take me a ride..... just a short one would be OK since he obviously did not want to do so. I got on the back of his Kaw....... he took off and I felt more acceleration than any of my muscle cars could muster (I had several big block Chevys in the tree years of licensed driving, including one COPO 427 Camaro). Ed hit second gear and pulled a wheelie which lasted till third gear. We were flying on that crowded Kroger parking lot...... and...... I was hooked !!!! I bought my first streetbike the next week.

DJT,

I did it the other way around ! Started with bikes [ and meandered along ever since ], then moved into Muscle Cars, Hot Rods, Dragsters as the 60s faded into the 70s.

You may know of the US based Performance Automotive Wharehouse [ PAW ] speed equipment / parts business that was rampant in the late 80's, 90's >. That was my pal Keith Harvie - I ran his "Americar" speed equipment outfit in the UK before he moved to the US [ 1976 /77 ? ] to open PAW and I opened my own businesses.

We had some awesome cars passing through our hands in the 70's - a lot coming from US servicemen returning to the US after their various postings to the UK and Europe [ especially Belgium / Germany ]. That was when I got into building race and road V8 engines and Drag cars [ doorslammers ].

My first real eye opener with Japanese machinery [ I WAS that naysayer ! ] was around in the early 70's when a pal called round on his new Kawasaki triple [ 250 ? ]. At first we all royally took the piss, and he suggested I took it for a run down the road a while. There was a small village bye-pass nor far from our house, so I decided to take it for a short spin. Down to the roundabout and back ........pile of shite. When I got back he said I wasn't revving it nearly high enough. So off again - 3/4 of the way round the roundabout for the return trip and I made the mistake of REALLY opening the throttle. The front wheel came up - while I was still partially cranked over and the thing shot off like a ballistic missile. How the hell I didn't fall off I have no idea! All my watching pals were suitably impressed - thinking I'd done it deliberately. THAT did impress me - although didn't improve my dislike [ generally ] for 2 strokes.

Here's our Camaro "Firebrewed" - we flew to Ohio to buy the car after seeing it



And here's the ex. Lawce Bros & Gunn Comp Altered - we bought that in California !!

 
I think I remember one of PAW"s ads in Super Chevy Magazine. If I remember correctly the ad featured a big breasted nude woman holding a header. In the seventies all my pals were into street racing. Ashland was an industrial town, union jobs with decent hourly wage were to be had by everyone over the age of 18. Lots of disposable income available for the automotive dealerships to tap into so car lots were full of both new and used muscle cars........ some very rare and most relatively cheap. Weekend cruising and the red light Grand Prix were the order of the day. Street racing was very popular, at times even organized. One time a guy driving a big block Chevelle came down from Ohio to one of the local dairy bars. He let it be known he would drag race (on Rt US 23) anyone brave enough to do so for a $100 bet. That was a hell of a lot of money back in the mid sixties. Peanut Stevens who was a local drag racer (sprinter) and then current NHRA record holder in the A/ Altered class soon got word of this challenge. Come late Saturday night Peanut pulled into the lot with a flat bed truck loaded with his 426 Hemi powered,supercharged, fuel injected, Devon kit car, with 12 inch slicks. The gauntlet was thrown, his Devon unloaded and the race was on. Peanut did a burnout as did the Chevelle, both cars lined up in the public highway and they were flagged away by a brave bystander. In a few seconds the race was over...... Peanut collected his prize, loaded the car, and got the hell out of there before the law came. That was 40+ years ago..... Peanut still has the Devon and from time to time we recount the tale...........
 
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