There is, it must be admitted, something fascinating about the Greeves motorcycle. It was weird, wonderful – and worked. And while possessed of the kind of looks only its mother could’ve loved, especially the earliest examples, thanks to competition success and exposure, the ugly duckling morphed into a beautiful swan… Of sorts, anyway. Perhaps a ‘functional’ swan, beautiful in a purposeful way.
The fact that, to me, when I was a boy, the latter-day Bert Greeves always looked like a man sporting one of those comedy glasses/nose/moustache get-ups sold in joke shops, seems somehow apt, insomuch as the motorcycles he made and bore his name, actually had an appearance that was, if not comical, different to the norm. For while there was a host of competition lightweights, led by the likes of James, Francis-Barnett, Cotton, Dot et al that all looked pretty much of a muchness, really, the Greeves had adornments which made it stand out. A joke shop disguise, if you like. But a disguise which hid the fact it was one very capable motorcycle.
Though some perhaps dismissed the early Greeves as a
