I started riding at sixteen and rode almost every day until my mid-60s around ten years ago. I didn’t stop voluntarily, it just happens that my four bikes are either basket cases or need some attention. Life seems to get in the way.
How many bikes have I owned in my time? Twenty-two in all. Not so many. I am inclined to hang on to what I like, get to know its intricacies and improve upon them, thus making for a greater sense of satisfaction and continued usefulness. Buy it – ride it – flog it has never appealed, largely because I am apt to pay too much and sell too low.
It wasn’t always thus. My first machine, a Francis Barnett Plover of 150cc Villiers ‘power’, got me mobile and bit me with the bike bug. The Plover was very basic and, with my low degree of knowledge of things mechanical, not too reliable. But I did manage to remove the gearbox casings and discover the source of a knock in first gear – a tooth missing from a pinion.
The Plover also got new piston rings which helped it to maintain more than 20mph up hills, and a set of corks fitted to the clutch. But it did not stay with me for a full year and was part-exchanged for a brand new BSA C15. Purchase cost: £30. Part exchange value: £30.
The BSA was oh so much better! It ran reliably, it ticked over reliably, it took me everywhere without trouble. I learned to adjust tappets, timing, and the carb. I was gaining knowledge. I clocked up 40,000 miles before trading it for a brand new Hond da CB72.
Now we’re shifting! The gearbox seized up twice – happily under warranty – but overall it was a good machine. I rode it far and wide and kept it pristine; blacked the tyre walls and picked out the tyre lettering in white. Less than two years later I sold it to a dealer for £140. Ripped off. But it got me part way towards something I craved: a Harley.
Many were the evenings I would ride to Fred Warr’s shop on the King’s Road and simply ogle through the shop window at behemoths of metal and leather. Wheels the size of lorries, engines set up
