I first got into bikes in the 1960s. Mum had a Raleigh Wisp which I rode most days along the lane. In 1969 Easy Rider hit the screens. Me and my mates lied about our age and to get into the ABC cinema and we were all hooked. That same year Motorcycle Mechanics had an article about a new bike from Triumph, a three cylinder, 750cc monster that could destroy the rear tyre before it got to the factory gates. The Trident had entered my life!
The following year, aged 16, I obtained my provisional licence. My parents weren't keen on me getting a bike because my older brother Pete had been knocked off his Lambretta 150. So a 250 was out of the question. A mate of Pete's was selling his Suzuki 50 step-thru and they were happier with this. At first I hated the Suzuki. It had no street cred, Peter Fonda would not be seen dead on one and it came from Japan!
All was not lost. It was (officially) a motor bike, it had no clutch, three gears and went OK. It got me to work and college and sipped fuel at miserly rates, which when your weekly pay was £6.10s was a big advantage. I duly passed my test and started to think of my next bike.
Another mate of Pete's was selling a Triumph Thunderbird that he had styled as a chopper. The frame wasn't actually chopped and the forks were standard. He had dumped the bathtub and nacelle, painted it candy orange and yellow, fitted ape-hangers, cissy rail, chopper seat unit, a Bantam tank (almost a peanut), upturned pipes and bugle silencers, and he only wanted £30 for it. Bargain! It was mine. TPF&T insurance cost £30 and so, still aged 16, I had the coolest bike in the area.
My mate Andy bought a Matchless G9 and did the same: painted it metallic purple and fitted straight-through upswept pipes. We had fun until the Thunderbird started making knocking noises.
