Welcome back to this series of stories about the most memorable motorcycles I’ve ridden so that I could write about them since I commenced this strange occupation in 1988 or so. Yep, it really is a long time ago, and many bikes have passed beneath my backside down the years, as you might hope. Many of them memorable. Most of those were memorable for all the right reasons – others, less so. Take a look at this, a Hesketh, which was indeed an entirely memorable machine – for many and varied reasons.
Wonderfully enough, I’ve been given opportunities to ride several of Lord Hesketh’s magnificent motorcycles down the years, including a truly odd café-racerised device. That was totally memorable, and for all the wrong reasons. Mainly due to its gross unwillingness to be civilised while riding through rush-hour traffic in downtown Burton-on-Trent. And it was raining. The less said about that, the better.
Fast-forward a few decades, onward, upward and into a whole new century. I met a man called Keith. Keith had a Hesketh. Remarkable. Even more remarkably, Keith wondered whether I would like to borrow it. Would I? Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t everyone?
Fast-forward a little more, and Keith and I are riding together, he on my Norton, me aboard his Hesketh V1000. How does this happen? Well, whenever I borrow a bike from a proud owner for a mile or two, I usually offer them the chance to take a similar spin on my own bike. This approach has many benefits. Not only is proud owner instantly convinced that I am a stout fellow and will not scream off into the
