Beachcomber's Tales from the day

Hell yea Rat ................

the coincidental contact I had after 30 odd years with the subject of the "Absent Wife....etc." tale contacted me after a random posting on a Nostalgia Drag Race site after I was trying to track down some pix of my "Metronome" Comp Altered. ! How's that - spooky or what.

So - that's the first one for the telling and I will state now you will find it hard to believe, but as ever with these tales - I was there or involved.

I haven't told the guy about my "tales" and his name will be changed. HOWEVER, he did say "do you remember when ......." about the incident.

I guess in the next week or two. There's also some others that are woth the telling - maybe another 5-6, I'll spread them out as my intention is to encourage others to come up with some tales.

I'll revamp the "Fishing for Gold Stars" tale - with apologies to anyone who saw it on another thread.
 
OK - "The Absent Wife, Bungalow and Mechanical Digger" tale coming up next week.

Even though I say this myself - it is unbelievable and truly "of the day". I was actually involved in this, although it mainly concerns someone else as the main man in this one.
 
Well here it is ..........................

BEACHCOMBERS TALES FROM THE DAY

“The Absent Wife, the Bungalow and the Mechanical Digger”

Just by way of explanation, a Bungalow – more correctly Cottage Bungalow [ UK ] is a single storey brick built dwelling, usually with doorway in the middle with rooms either side [ usually lounge and dining room ], with kitchen, bathroom and bedrooms at the rear. The one in this tale is exactly like that – but think quaint old English Rose covered cottage. Usually these buildings had a “bow” window for each of the front rooms either side of the main door. Again, as this one.

The subject of this tale is – let’s call him “Dave”, a bit of a wild child bordering on the edge of legality. If you wanted some concrete for your yard – a call to Dave would result in a Cement mixer lorry turning up and dumping it’s load. Or you needed some Walnut panelling for your study – maybe 10 sheets or so – you’d come home from work to find a lorry load – maybe 100 sheets on your front lawn. Not one to do things by half our Dave. And everything was “a drink” [ £20 or so ]. Nobody asked where the goods came from – that was the deal in those days.

So, poor old Dave had a tempestuous relationship with his Wife [ childhood sweetheart ] but they had survived long enough [ still together ! ] to raise two little brats – err, children. Dave had worked hard to get the money together to get a down payment on this quaint old English Bungalow. So quaint, it had no garage – but with Dave’s contacts that was only a matter of time – and opportunity.

This story took place in Dave’s transition period – from bikes to Hot Rods – still had bikes [ Gold Star and Matchless CSR ], but in the late 60’s our interests generally had focused on 4 wheels.

So what kicked this episode off? Well Dave wanted to buy a Ford Pop [ Anglia ] and drop a Rover [ nee Buick ] 215ci V8 and Auto Trans in it. Jag IRS and Vauxhall Viva front end. That was almost a fixed menu for Pops in those early days. No problems there then. However, Mrs. Dave wanted a holiday in Majorca. Oh oh – recipe for another up and downer.

Mrs. Dave made the fatal mistake of telling Dave “it’s the Pop or me”.
So later that week I delivered the Pop to Dave’s front garden – and the next day [ Saturday ] Mrs. Dave fucked off to Majorca – only for a holiday, but you never knew with her.

So Sunday Dave called us all round for a project meeting – making plans for the Pop and where we were going to gather all the parts from. Anyway a few crates of beer later and we had plenty of ideas – and Dave was busy ringing round to try to arrange for concrete for a garage base, a pre-cast building, wiring, etc, etc.

Sod’s Law, all his contacts came up dry – and let’s face it time’s a wasting. We were all sat round in his lounge – in front of a roaring log fire [ it was Winter ] pondering what to do ………………………….

Then I made a fatal suggestion – albeit in jest – “What’s wrong with this room – you never use it”. The time was 11.00 am.

By mid-day measurements had been taken – the bow window checked to ensure it had a steel joist over it and a call had gone out to carpenters, brickies – oh yea, and a pal who had access to a mechanical digger. Actually the digger belonged to his company and being a Sunday was in the company compound. No probs – matey had a key and an hour later the digger was in the front garden complete with rolls of electric cable, bricks, bags of sand and cement and odd lengths of timber in the digger’s front bucket.

By 3 o’clock the front window was sitting on the front lawn and the brickwork below the window removed. The lounge was rapidly cleared of what furniture was left and the carpet was about to be taken out, when Dave thought –“Balls, might as well have a bit of comfort” – so left it in.

The Pop was rolled into the lounge, and while some of the guys started pulling it apart, others carried on with the modifications to the bungalow.

We had a brilliant idea of cutting the windows vertically in the middle and hingeing them on the outside wall so they opened for an access door. That just left the matter of the missing brickwork under the window. Another brilliant idea – we used a timber frame and clapboards – hinged with the windows so they opened as one.
So put matching clapboard under the other window to even it up and – Robert’s your Pater’s Sibling [ Bob’s your Uncle ]. The last 3 hours were carried out under the digger’s worklights – but by close of play looking at the bungalow, you’d never know – especially as we had arranged to leave the net curtains on the windows !

By that time, all the panels were off the Pop and all the original running gear was out and on the front lawn.

Did it end there? - No. The following day the team turned up and gave the bungalow the finishing touches and a coat of paint and you really would not have had any idea of what was in the lounge – or how it got there!

Mrs. Dave got back from Majorca 2 weeks later, ready to forgive Dave for buying the Pop……………………………I think it was 2 months before she set foot in the bungalow again, and a year before she forgave him.

By pure coincidence I spoke to Dave [ after 30 odd years ] a couple of weeks ago – we had a good laugh about the “old days” and the bungalow job. When they sold the bungalow 4 years later, it still had the “opening” front windows, although the lounge had been refurbished to again become a living area.
 
So what became of the "Pop"? Did he finish it off in the lounge, then tear open the bungalo to remove it, then restore it all back to lounge?

This sounds similar to what some of my friends and myself would have done!
 
tWistedWheelz said:
So what became of the "Pop"? Did he finish it off in the lounge, then tear open the bungalo to remove it, then restore it all back to lounge?

This sounds similar to what some of my friends and myself would have done!

Not only was the Pop finished off in the lounge, but went on to take some top honours at several shows - it was known laughingly as the "Lounge Pop".

The whole window assembly was rigged to be like a full size door, split down the middle. You unlocked it from the inside and the two halves swung out open, complete with windows, curtains and flower vases on the shelf!

Not only was the Pop built in there, but a later a Pop Van and 2 bikes !
 
If I may,


I was on an exercise about a year and a half ago in Mountain Home AFB Idaho. A few of us had gotten word about some motorcycle hill climbing out west of Boise called "The Big Nasty" http://www.bignastyhillclimb.com/index1.html (remeber that name...) so being bikers we went togther in the same car and headed out. This was the first day and we had NO idea where we were going aside from a few random signs on the highway.

Now before I get too in to this story, the guys I were with are the kinda guys you sit around the BBQ/ fire pit at night and listen to theyre stories togther, the kind of stories you think to your self "you guys are soooo full of shit" but never say it to be polite.

Now I think we were somewhere around Star when we had no clue where we were for the first time. We stopped at some country home off a back road because we saw a chopper in the drive way and thought they might know where to go for bike racing. Brown and I stayed in the car while Kev stepped out to ask. Kev introduced him self, had a VERY quick conversation and promptley came back to the car and we left without fucking around. Kev was saying the guy asked who we were and we wanted. When kev told him the guy said "I will tell you, but you get out of here NOW..." OK, we got out of there NOW. Dont know what was going on but probibaly wasent healthy for us to hang around.

Next, we are around Middleton going down one of the main roads and hadent seen a sign for a while. Law of "Shot gun" say you call it first, you get it. I was in the back seat. Again lost we pulled over to the curb (Raised your standard height with grass) to the first person we saw who looked remotley like he might care about motorcycles. Remeber what the races were called? And remeber, I'm in the back passangers side seat for this... We pull over to the right, Brown rolls down his window and says "Excuse me Sir, Were looking for The Big Nasty, Can you help us?" This guy looked like your classic red neck, ripped dirty jeans, big belt buckle, missing half of his finger... And he says as he puts his hands in his jeans pockets and stants real close to the window in the voice of the kinda guy you are scared to spend a night in a jail cell with "He he he hee Big Nasty, Huh!?" At that point I was thinking Oh god, hes gonna whip it out on us! When he asked who we were and where we came from, I think it helped that were from out of country and if we werent, we could have gotten more then we bargened for. He told us and again we were promptley on our way!

We found it shortley later.


The next day we left early for a full day of racing and planned on breakfast in Boise. I was in the mood for a Waffle, Brown wanted pancakes and Kev wanted Bacon and eggs. We decided "International House Of Pancakes" was the place to go. A few highway signs, stops for directions and we passed a sign that said IHOP, I remeber saying "IHOP, thats nice, wheres the International House Of Pancakes... Hey, turn around, I think thats it"

Some people shit just happend around, these guys... Shit happens around!

Thats my story...

On a side note, Theme nights at the Boise Hooters... School Girls, Foot Ball and Animals... Oh My!
 
Hey Rat - keep 'em coming.

Hoof where are you mate? Missing your input - hope everything's OK and you're not spending too much time with that chair for an extra mile an hour or 5 .

There WILL be an late tale - actually not of the day [ 30 years ago ], but involving the current Mrs. B, my Jota a World Powerboat meeting and a handbag.
 
Hey BC. Thats what I've been doing. Kind of a long story. Last year at Bonneville a friend showed up figuring you just run your bike and go home with a record in your pocket. It was his first time there and Bonneville has a habit of making your first visit a rough one. His was and he left vowing to return and make amends. We've been e-mailing back and forth. Well, A week or so ago he tells me he bought a 650 Triumph and plans to add a sidecar and go after the 650 sidecar records. I have been accumulating parts to make a 545cc Weslake to do exactly the same thing!

I don't want to run in the same clas as him so I have been searching for a small turbo so I can run in the blown 500 class. That and designing a Bonneville T shirt. Which is mercifully done and gone for final set up. I'll be back to normal in a day or two.
 
Just finished reading the entire thread. Great stories and thanks to all who contributed! Brought back memories of what I was up to in those "halcyon days of yesteryear." As I turned 60 this past year, I guess this is the beginning of that never ending slide into old fartdom. My tales from then would usually involve freaks,[hippies]bikes, protest and involvements with the local constabulary of a large southern town that contained the institution of higher learning that I was attending at the time. Interesting times, those!!
 
I enjoyed the Hippy times - as an interloper.

There was a real big scene in Romford in those days - and the only passport you needed to get into one of the "free love" parties was a Kaftan, your love beads a generous splash of Patchuli and long hair [ which I had].

A bit like a single bloke at a Wife swapping party - a grin from ear to ear.
 
Following on from "Dangerous Roy & the Manx", there's one more story involving Dangerous Roy worth the telling - "Dangerous Roy, the sidecar and the Cemetary". 8)
Coming up in the next week or so ...................
 
Here we are guys, the second of the Tales involving Dangerous Roy ......

Beachcomber’s – Tales from the Day - Feb 2011

“Dangerous Roy, the Sidecar and the Cemetery”

This is the second of the tales involving Dangerous Roy that we met in the story of the Manx Engine. This took place about 6 months after that incident, after Roy’s Dad had given me Roy’s RE Crusader and bought him a car.

Although Roy was effectively banned from having a bike by his Dad, he still wanted to maintain his friendship with the old crowd. Roy was a bit of an enigma – Mod by day at work and in the evenings, but he still hung around with us bikers. He was one of the rarities amongst our crowd in that he actually enjoyed being a pillion passenger – at least he was safer that way!

Anyway – the tale. In those days if you hitched a sidecar to your bike you immediately qualified for a 50% insurance discount, and as a learner you could scare 2 passengers to death rather than just one. Those of you that have ridden a chair outfit will know it’s not just a case of leaping on and away into the wild blue yonder. It also meant that you could have a much larger capacity bike for the same insurance as a tiddler. I’m not certain that the insurance companies had this in mind when they offered the 50% discount – I think they were looking at the married bloke with kids who couldn’t yet afford or maybe even had driver licence for a small car. Of course a lot of the lads then took the sidecar back off, but still maintaining the 50% insurance discount!

So when my pal Maurice decided that he wanted to upgrade his B31 [ 350cc] to a Road Rocket, the answer was to put a chair on the plot to reduce the insurance [ as he was a new rider ]. We found a suitable single sports chair [ Monza ] and duly set about arranging to get the chair hitched up. This is where Roy became involved in the plot, as he had a car and could easily run around to get the relevant lumps of metal and bracketery to attach the chair to the bike. In those days it was simply a matter of attaching clamps round the front down tube, bottom rail and usually picking up on the footrest hanger. These were just like small scaffolding clamps – very agricultural – but did the job. Amongst our mob were a couple of sidecar demons – one guy [ John Barker ?] went on to be something of an Isle of Man specialist. These guys volunteered their help in the black art of alignment, wheel lead, trail, toe and all sorts of things that didn’t apply to a solo. By about mid-day the alignment was to everyone’s satisfaction – so Roy volunteered to take us all to the local pub for a pint and a pie. Uncharacteristically we had more than a pint or 3 – something we normally would not have done when riding – and spent a pleasant 3 hours in the pub shooting the breeze. Eventually we all rolled back to Maury’s house to take the chair for a run. BTW – all the work was carried out in the roadway as he didn’t have a workshop.

So a little later and we’re all ready for a test run – everyone had gone of home by this time just leaving Maury, myself and Roy.

Roy was “volunteered” to go in the chair, whilst I rode pillion. We decided to go up to the famous “Wantz” bends – again, from the Roy and the Manx tale. The reasoning was that we could try out the bends there with Roy leaning out of the chair and acting as ballast whilst Maury did Max Deubel impressions.

The first couple of miles went without incident, but there were a couple of wobbles, which we put down to the fact that Maury had never ridden a chair outfit before. The first of the Wantz bends was taken in real Banzai fashion with a lurid 3 wheel drift which impressed us no end. Maury was screaming something incoherent whilst we were whooping and hollering encouragement to go faster for the next set of “S” bends [ “esses” ].

Well as he made no attempt to slow – we assumed he was really going for it. The second part of the bend was a right hander – after the same 3 wheel drift at full speed on the left hand element of the bend we were really in the zone – I was leaning as far to the right as I could and Roy was actually standing up in the chair leaning over the pillion seat between Maury and myself. Maury was still yelling “Hold on, hold on” – which we took as encouragement – however as we got to the apex of the bend, instead of a controlled drift round the right hander – we simply ploughed straight on at undiminished speed ………………………

Fortunately on the outside of the bend was an unmade road that led to the local Cemetery – so off went the outfit, with arms and legs everywhere. It was only then that we noticed that the chair and the bike were much closer together, and at a very steep vertical angle – certainly NOT the 5 degrees we had set. The bike eventually slewed sideways catapulting Roy off and into a muddy ditch at the side of the track.

After we spent the next 10 minutes or so telling Maury what we thought of his driving – we looked at the outfit to realise that the front mounts had completely undone themselves and the whole thing was only held on by the rear footrest mount. The reason for Maury’s speed into the bends also became apparent – as both the sidecar and rear brake [ the two main brakes for a chair ] had become detached along with the clamps. That’s also why Maury was screaming “Hold on” as he was totally certain he wasn’t going to make the bends!

Yes, in our best Monty Python style we were so chuffed with our efforts to align the chair precisely – we had forgotten to tighten any of the clamps up before we went to the pub – and went completely out of our minds when we returned!

Fortunately none of the clamps had actually gone awol, so it was a pretty simple task to put them back in place and then tighten them up ! All this done on an unmade track, and with no means of aligning the outfit – other than by eye. Funny thing was when we eventually got back and checked – it was so close that we didn’t need to alter it at all. The only damage to the outfit was slightly scuffed paint on the frame tubes and a buggered sidecar brake cable.

Roy ………………….. yes minor cuts and bruises, but sad to say that yet again one of his Winkle Pickers would be picking no Winkles for the foreseeable. His Best Mod suit was also ripped and caked in mud – that’s Roy.

I have NO idea how he might have explained his accident to his ever suffering Father, however suffice it to say that although Roy continued to ride pillion with us – he NEVER again went in an outfit !
 
I can relate to Roy
I love the Mod look and music , even the scooters but you cant beat how it feels
to be on a bike
 
Good laugh!!! I can relate to that as I had a Watsonian Monza hooked up to a Triton in the 70s. Turned it over into a ditch with my Dad in the chair. But thats another story and pales into insignificance compared to Dad (in his teens)spearing his younger brother on a wrought iron fence as he looped a sidecar trying to get it home in a hurry before his dad saw them. The mod and rocker gear is funny. When I went over to Ireland in 1967 I got a job with a small engineering suppliers. We were expected to wear a white shirt and tie to work. I can rememberoutting on a nice white shirt and tie then all the rocker gear for the ride to work. Cool thing was the boss (tweed jacket, cavalry twill pants, RAF mustache and pipe) didn't care what you looked like outside work. But inside you better have that tie on.

img110vc3.jpg
 
Just writing up the Tale for March -

"Two Inter engines, half a Manx engine, an Isetta bubble car and a wheelbarrow".

Not sure what you guys call a wheelbarrow - a single wheeled container for building / gardening work pushed with 2 handles at the rear.

This tale came about after I was sitting on the roadside outside my Gran's house in the pissing rain with the light from a torch fitting the Manx engine from the "Roy and the Manx engine" tale.
Here's one -

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yep, that's a wheelbarrow where I come from, but then we still have the queen on our money :)

Cheers, looking forward to the tale,

Maritime
 
We have dead Presidents and one dude that never made it to President but was a hell of a patriot and ambassador to our country on our money, and we call it a wheelbarrow too!
 
tWistedWheelz said:
We have dead Presidents and one dude that never made it to President but was a hell of a patriot and ambassador to our country on our money, and we call it a wheelbarrow too!

We call people like that Rebels.

God save the Queen!




(jk all)
 
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