Riding Life
It was inevitable that I was going to get into motorcycles, whether Mum liked it or not. As a youngster growing up in wartime Britain, I could never remember a time when Dad didn’t have a bike. The earliest motorcycle I remember was an OK Supreme with a JAP engine. During the war, the old man was deemed to be an essential worker at the local gasworks. He did his bit on voluntary firewatch duty during air raids. His lookout position was on top of the huge gas-holder which held up to 100,000 cubic metres of gas!
Although bikes were in short supply at the end of hostilities, the old man always managed to get hold of something; an ex-WD 350 Matchless, a pre-war AJS and so on. His best mate was Len Stonestreet, who was the local chimney sweep, and I remember being in
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