Beachcomber's Tales from the day

Basement rat said:
If we tried that stuff today, we would be locked up for who knows how long saying good bye to our rides... Even worse for you Ontario guys!

If you want to "try stuff" and get away wih it go to the Island for TT week. The cops there allow you to get away with shit that would have you locked up and the key thrown away anywhere else. My wife and I were over at the TT in '74. Had to be '74. I was usig the Manx for transport that year. It was all I had that was roadworthy at the time.

We were strolling along the prom in Douglas in the evening when we heard a bit of a commotion a ways in front of us. We stopped to have a look and it turned out to be some guy, half shitfaced and butt naked riding a 750 Suzuki kettle. He did have boots on. Whenever he heard a gal shout he would stand up and shake his naughty bits at her. A good laugh overall.

As he got to the end of the prom there was two cops waiting and he was duly arrested. You have to bear in mind that the Island has a helmet law. He appeared in court the next day and the judge amazed everyone by fining him 40 pounds (Stg.) for not wearing a helmet!!


God I love the Island!!
 
holy damn! two great stories back to back!


once upon a time, life was better. bets were settled in public rather then in a courtroom. once upon a time, you could be knocked out by someone only to have them lift you to your feet a minute later.

wish i lived, once upon a time. :)
 
Yea, - we can truly say -"Those WERE the days" eh Hoof?

When I was a kid [ up to 14 - 15 ], you respected the law - not for the laws per se, but you had a real and healthy respect for authority and especially your elders.

When I was a kid if I was caught scrumping apples or some very minor delinquency - a copper would literally give you a quick clip round the ear'ole and tell you to bugger off and not do it again. No point complaining at home to Mom or Dad about it - they'd give you another one !!!!!!

Same with teachers and other folk in charge of kids - NOW, if they raise their voices to the kids there'd be a writ flying around saying their "human rights" had been violated.

Hoof's IOM tale reminds me of a guy we had in our crew whose party piece was standing up on his bike while riding along at 30-40mph. Yea I know - every other stunters first steps these days - but unusual in the 60's.

One day - simply for a bet [ he was stone cold sober ] he got his kit off [ again all except helmet -on head - and boots ] and rode past the Mocha Coffee bar [ in Hornchurch ] which was a haunt for the Mods. The village Bobby on his Vespa scooter spotted him and took chase, but we all got in front of him and surrounded matey and then roared off through the village to safety, whilst plod tried to keep up with his 55mph scooter !

I've nearly finished Roy's story, but every time I come back to it I end up pissing myself with laughter - and that incident was 45 years ago.

Just think what stories YOU guys might have in 45 years' time????
 
True we didn't have a great respect for the written law but we did have a healthy respect for the officers of the law. Doing something stupid meant a whack up the side of the head and getting sent on your way. If (and thats a big if) you told your parents you were likely to get another whack up the side of the head. But the written law was definitely not to be taken too seriously.

A short story that has nothing to do with motorcycles. I was sent to catholic schools with nuns that had some pretty vicious streaks in them. Getting clattered was (for me at any rate) and lack of sympathy from parents was also the norm. One thing it did do was prepare you for the real world. You screw up. Be prepared for the consequences.

I was an altar boy when the mass was in latin. I got stuck with serving a concelebrated mass. i.e. two plus hours of a valuable Sunday down the drain. I was totally pissed off. One of the responses I was to sing was "O rapro nobis". For shits and giggles I sang out "O wipe my nose miss". Sister Rose Marie, my 8th grade teacher was over in the penguin pit ( a small room to the right of the altar). I glanced over at her and she had eyes the size of saucers!!


As soon as mass was over she was waiting for me. I was frog marched over to the school and she literally beat shit out of me. I got home with one eye closed and a bloody nose!! My Dad was reading the Sunday paper and he glanced up and asked what happened. I told him and his reply was " Maybe the next time you won't be so damn stupid". Mom's reply was I made a mess of the shirt and dried in blood doesn't wash out.

Today that incident would be a major lawsuit. But back then it was nothing more than a life lesson.
 
Hoofhearted said:
True we didn't have a great respect for the written law but we did have a healthy respect for the officers of the law. Doing something stupid meant a whack up the side of the head and getting sent on your way. If (and thats a big if) you told your parents you were likely to get another whack up the side of the head. But the written law was definitely not to be taken too seriously.

A short story that has nothing to do with motorcycles. I was sent to catholic schools with nuns that had some pretty vicious streaks in them. Getting clattered was (for me at any rate) and lack of sympathy from parents was also the norm. One thing it did do was prepare you for the real world. You screw up. Be prepared for the consequences.

I was an altar boy when the mass was in latin. I got stuck with serving a concelebrated mass. i.e. two plus hours of a valuable Sunday down the drain. I was totally pissed off. One of the responses I was to sing was "O rapro nobis". For shits and giggles I sang out "O wipe my nose miss". Sister Rose Marie, my 8th grade teacher was over in the penguin pit ( a small room to the right of the altar). I glanced over at her and she had eyes the size of saucers!!


As soon as mass was over she was waiting for me. I was frog marched over to the school and she literally beat shit out of me. I got home with one eye closed and a bloody nose!! My Dad was reading the Sunday paper and he glanced up and asked what happened. I told him and his reply was " Maybe the next time you won't be so damn stupid". Mom's reply was I made a mess of the shirt and dried in blood doesn't wash out.

Today that incident would be a major lawsuit. But back then it was nothing more than a life lesson.

Sounds about right!
 
Hey guys,

whilst sitting in an nostalgia and Brandy fueled haze last night in front of ye olde roaring log fire, another tale from the day swam into view. It is more Hot Rodder than Bike related - but bikes were involved.

So was a temporarily absent wife [ somebody else-not mine ], a country bungalow [ single storey quaint old dwelling ]. and a mechanical digger...................... is that allowed ??????????
 
This REALLY is the last one this side of Christmas as I have to whizz off to Saxony for a while 8)

Beachcomber’s Tales from the Day.

“Dangerous Roy and the Manx Norton Engine”.


We met Roy briefly in tale of the Missing Motorcyclist – here’s a little backgrounder on Roy ………………

Roy was 5 years or so younger than most of the lads in our crew, and at heart was a budding Mod. However, that was virtually impossible for him as all the surrounding bikers [ around his neighbourhood ] were Rockers [ generic ]. So he had a bit of a split loyalty – when he could get out on his own, he’d put on his Italian suit and Winkle pickers and then off to the local Palais with his Mod friends.

When it came time for him to get transport he was torn between a Vespa – and “losing” all his local pals, or a bike – which he really didn’t want! His Dad reluctantly bought him a Royal Enfield Crusader [ 250cc ] – and off wobbled Roy to try to fit in with the rest of us.

The second day on the bike he was off to work in London’s East End and even in those days rush hour traffic into and out of London’s arterial roads was hectic. Roy had yet to learn the art of weaving in and out of traffic and an accident of some sort was inevitable. Roy had to dress in a suit for his day job [ insurance clerk ] and true to his Mod roots, he’d wear his finest day time Italian suit complete with Winkle Pickers! Now the Mod style of riding was to hang the feet off the footboards of the scooter as far as possible at 45 degrees, so others could see your footwear. As Roy didn’t know which camp he really belonged to, he rode his bike in a similar fashion. You can see it coming – so Roy’s wriggling in and out of the traffic, until his foot comes into contact with a central pedestrian refuge kerb. These “refuges” were oval islands [ 6 foot x 3 foot ] in the middle of the busy City roads to allow pedestrians to bolt half way across the road, catch their breath and risk life and limb for the rest of the crossing to the other side. So, Roy’s foot came off second best and the collision spilled him down the road [ 10-15 mph ]. When he came to a rest he realised that the complete toe from his handmade Winkle Pickers had been torn off ! Not so bothered about the damage to his bike – or the broken toe!

So that sets the scene for Roy – accident prone as he was.

Anyway – the Manx ………………….

A year later and Roy was really no better a rider, and his Father was trying very hard to persuade him to get a car, even offering to pitch in some cash. So they had a deal – the next accident would be the last, after the inevitable, his Father would insist on him getting a car.

At the time I was having real problems with my 500cc International Norton [ road going Manx ], I suffered a spate of clipped intake valves [ did that affect you Hoof ? ] – and these valves were two weeks wages at the time and the exhaust valves were sodium filled- should one of them get damaged. Actually therein lies a “Mini Tale” –
the “2 International Engines, half a Manx Engine and the Isetta Bubble Car”

Anyway – a pal who lived about 2 miles away from me had a genuine 500 Manx engine for sale, and due to some various double dealing he owed me big time and I got the engine for a song. When the time came to collect ……….ahhh, none of us had a car or van. So I had a brilliant [ oh dear ] plan – get Roy to take me round there and I would sit pillion holding the engine between us! Now I should point out that Roy was only 5’ 4” and was around 100lbs - I was a lot more.

My pal was astounded when we turned up and said we’d take the engine with us on the bike – but we had no choice as his car was off the road at the time.

The road back took us past the notorious “Wantz Bends”, a series of tight double “S” bends. Under normal circumstances these bends were for the brave to take at speed ………..

After a couple of wobbling false starts we eventually got under way, and as long as we remained pretty upright – all was fine.

Then came the Wantz bends ……………….. eager to impress, Roy hurtled into the bends completely oblivious to the additional weight – AND the fact that I had no way of hanging on. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion after that, after the bike reached about 30 degrees I realised that we had reached the point of no return and started looking for somewhere safe to put my valued Manx engine. Yep, Roy was a nice soft place to cushion the impact for the Manx…so there’s Roy sliding down the road with me sliding alongside – holding the Manx engine firmly on his back. We eventually came to a stop, with much moaning and groaning coming from Roy – naturally, I went to check the condition of the engine – phew, no damage, so I carefully lifted it off Roy and put it to one side.

Then I turned my attentions to Roy who really didn’t look too good and in fact passed out in pain. A passing motorist stopped and said he would call an ambulance [ no cell phones then! ], but didn’t want to move Roy in case anything was broken. I persuaded the guy to drop me [ and the Manx engine! ] at my house which was only a half mile away where I could use the phone to call the Ambulance.

I got on my spare bike [ 500cc BSA B33 – waiting to become a Tribsa ] and headed back to the scene. When I arrived the Police and his Father were there – but no Roy. The ambulance had already been and carted him off to hospital where he was diagnosed with broken ribs and a punctured lung! You’ll be glad to know that the Manx engine was fine though.

Roy’s Dad was absolutely furious [ he didn’t know about the Manx engine ! ] that Roy had this time had a fairly serious accident – and gave me the Crusader on the spot, saying Roy would never ride a bike again.

I went to the hospital [ after we got the Crusader home ! ] to check on Roy, who had been very lucky and went on to make a full recovery – he even laughed about the incident years later when we met up.

A week later Roy came out of hospital – the Manx was installed in my chassis, and there was a shiny Ford Mk2 Convertible Consul waiting for Roy.

He was far less prone to accidents carwise, but never got on a bike again!

That’s it for this side of Christmas, as I have to make a flying visit to my place in Saxony and won’t have time to finish any of the other tales.

As we’re into the busy arterial roads of London – maybe the “Open Air Reliant Robin Van” should be next, as the tale took place on those same busy London streets..
 
Enjoyed that BC. I had an ancient Inter some time before the Manx. It was the Norton standard of 79 x 100. Being young and dumb (as opposed to old and dumb) it was more important to "race" it everywhere than to learn about it. I was hammering it home along the Nth. Strand Rd. in Dublin. It was a little after midnight so it was head down, ass up when there was a God awful bang and then the dreadful silence. The intake valve had lterally dropped in. When I got it home and stripped it I found the head was cracked, the valve went through the piston, hit the rod and bent the rod. The impact of a valve also cracked the crankcase. But I never had a problem with the Manx.
 
Hoof, strange that it was ONLY the Inters I had problems with, I must have clipped 3 lots of inlets before I swapped to the Manx. And yes - NEVER a problem with it.

Never had the total destruction you suffered, and in all cases the piston just needed a "bit of massage" to get it fit again.
 
Quick hoodlum story from over here in the states... Though not mine, the hero of this here story is a very good friend and co-worker of mine that Ive known for years. Hes been riding since age 8 and has had dozens of motorcycles throught the years. Currently owns five HDs from the 1937 - 2008 model years.

Any how... Ben was your average dirty, longhaired biker type in the 70s here in the US. At the time he had a home built HD bobber that Ive seen pics of. Pretty cool old bike.
Anyhow, Ben and his buddys were all out one night barhopping and generally being scum bags of the highest order. They stopped at their last bar for the night, and having just bought a house, Ben decided he needed to break it in and invited the whole bar over after close to do so.
Around one thirty a.m. (the bars here close at 2) he and a few guys decided to head to his place and set up for the upcoming festivities. Now to get from the bar in Rochester PA to his house in Beaver PA, you had to run up a pretty steep hill under a train overpass on the main street. As they were crossing the bridge headed towards the hill, they were all playing games, and kicking at eachothers bikes. Generally being idiots.
Ben (who mind you, is one of the most proficient riders Ive ever met, and at this time had been riding for nearly 20 years) figured he would really show these guys whats what and wen full throttle towards the base of the hill, pulling about 100 ft ahead of the pack.
As they got near the crest, and into the business district of Beaver (which at that time especially was not a real friendly place when you were a biker) Ben hopped up and stood on his seat at about 45mph. Arms out to his side.
As he tells it... The next thing he remembers is flying through the air! That and seeing his precious HD sliding towards the gas station on the corner. He watched as it hit the curb, flew through the air and landed upside down against the pump... Luckily nothing in the town of Beaver was open past six pm (as it is still) so no one was in the way of 700lbs of flying metal.
His freinds saw him go down and rushed to his side. He miraculously got up and had no real injuries. After taking a second to make sure he was ok, they realised that they better get that bike out of there before the local PD showed up. The station was only a block away, and you could be sure that the one cop on duty was awoken by the noise outside.
They rolled the bike behind the dumpster next to the gas station and waited as one of them rode home to grab his truck. When he returned they loaded her up and made it to Bens just in time to see all of the bar patrons drinking and partying in his front yard.
After ushering his guests inside, they rolled the HD into the living room and up onto some cinder blocks. You see, this was Bens ONLY form of transportation and he had to work Monday morning...
By Sunday night (between the party, and the "pity lays" because of the wreck) they had the bike back together and running strong. At least five guys stayed at his house and awake for 48 hrs to get it done.
Unfortunatly his friend who was the groups wiring "guru" had only red wire to fix the now charred and fuel soaked stock harness. They figured, "eh itll be fine" and it was until he was 300 miles from home and the bike wouldnt start, which is a completely different story.
 
Started reading through this thread and haven't laughed so much , ok, giggled, in a long time. Beachcomber and Hoof, your stories are great and brings back memories for me back in the day too. BC, winkle pickers, I haven't heard that used in 45 years or so, for those that don't know pointed shoes or boots. Get a kick out of the old pics too, the old 100e and 105e Fords, spent many a long day trying to fix those things as an apprentice mechanic back in NZ. Even though I still ride and mod my bikes, 77 and 78 xs650s, the best times for me were the late 60s early 70s on the Triumphs or BSA of the time. Have a couple of tales that may make it up here, the time I was taken to the cop shop outside Liverpool while waiting for the ferry to the IOM back in 73, or the time I saw the demise,or so I thought, of my Brother back in 71. Keep them stories coming guys, I'm hooked. John.
 
von... hahahhaa, red wire! xD!!!!



BC! amazing story with the motor! love how you chose the motor over him... glad he turned out ok (even if he is a mod!)
 
Rocan, just a footnote to the Roy tale.

Through the powers of Friends Reunited, Roy contacted me 2 years ago, after a lapse of some 40 odd years.

Won't bore you with all the trivia but get this - Roy went on to become a professional soldier and served in live theatres around the World - ones that generally didn't make the headlines.

He rose to the position of Sargeant Major and went through his service with only minor injuries - now can you all guess which branch of the army he volunteered for ?????????????????????

THE BOMB DISPOSAL SQUAD :eek: :eek: :eek:....... I shit you not.
 
Hey Von and Kiwi - let's hear 'em.

If you guys are having as much of a laugh reading them as I am reliving and writing these tales [ and I'm sure the same goes for Hoof ] - then great. ;D

here's a short list for 2011 - provided you don't get sick of them.

1. "The Absent Wife, the Bungalow and the Mechanical Digger". 8) I'm STILL pissing myself with laughter over this one.
2. "Reliant Robin Van - Open Air Motoring"
3. "How to Tow a Gold Star - or Not".
4. "Vanishing Motorcyclist -# 2"
5. "Sign of the Zodiac"
6. "G45 at Ted's" [ look that one up - Matchless G45 500cc Twin Race Bike from the 7R and G50 stable ]
Oh yes and I'll redraft the -
7. "Fishing for Gold Stars"

Every so often another little gem pops into my head [ usually after a Brandy or 3 ].

I'll add a picture or two along the way so you know what I'm talking about - 'frinstance the Reliant Robin Van.
 
Reliant Robin Van - post war utility vehicle made from GRP and made to a weight limit that allowed it to be driven on a motorcyclists licence.

Had a tendancy to fall over if cornered at anything more than 20mph! Max speed - 70 mph - if you were VERY brave.

images.jpg
 
hahahha... brave man to join the military while so accident prone!!


man, this is my favorite thread in the world.
 
Erskine,

just a thought - if you go back round your mate's house - have a look at the cam followers and con-rods in the Daimler Hemi lump. Also give the general internals the once over.

If you know your pre-unit Triumphs [ 500 and 650 ] the parts will look VERY familiar. They should do - both engines were designed by Edward Turner of Triumph!

Capacity wise the Daimler is just about 4 x Bonneville engines.
 
Beer out of nose is not good. I need to read and then drink. too funny!


Not to get this too off topic, but I was telling my son the other day that when I was a kid, a neighbor/church goer whatever had every right to give you a head smacking if they were to see your personal shenanigans away from home. The only thing we were terrified of is if they told our parents.
 
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