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 ] … 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)
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 ] … 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)