Family responsibilities....

Joining the staff at Cranfield University left little time for anything else and besides, it wasn't long before I fell hook, line and sinker for a local teacher. Jennie and I married in 1972 and a substantial mortgage put paid to any thoughts of two-wheeled toys. Nonetheless, I vividly recall a few days when our car was out of action and a close mate kindly loaned us his Triumph Tiger 110. This was the age of micro-mini skirts and the sight of Jennie on the pillion being dropped off at school must have had quite an impact on the hormones of the little spotties loitering at the school gates!

 3 days before our wedding

Nearly 3 years after getting married, a good job in industry was on offer so we moved Down Under, a decision never once regretted. Yacht racing became the new hobby, particularly as it enabled the growing family to come and play at the beach or lakes whilst their father was trying to drown himself in various scenic parts of the country. Now you might think that I'm getting off track here but stick with it as it was sailing that got me back into motorcycling!

It was 1987 and I'd headed up to Barrys Pt Road in Takapuna to pick up a new yacht sail. When I arrived, it wasn't quite ready so went for a walk. Just up the road was a Honda dealership and in the window was a midnight blue GB400TT and it took my breath away. It was reminiscent of my old Tiger 100 from years gone by and I stepped inside for a closer look. Fatal mistake.... The salesman had clearly recognised a sucker and worked his charms on a willing victim. A week later, it was safely tucked up at home. Jennie was ummm... rather unhappy with this impulse purchase and she subsequently squared the account by buying a piano which was significantly in excess of the GB400 cost! Learning to ride smoothly again after a long absence from bikes was surprisingly difficult but the pleasure of being on two wheels again was indescribable.

 The much-loved GB400TT

 A "slight difficulty" was encountered soon after acquiring the Honda involving an expired UK motorcycle license which required me to re-sit each stage of the test, albeit with no delay between each stage. I could hardly turn up on the 400 and the only machine I was able to borrow was a 50cc Yamaha step-through, complete with shopping basket. It was downright embarrassing turning up on the hideous thing but at least a full-face helmet hid the blushes! Having passed the test, the GB was used at every opportunity and was subsequently equipped with a full fairing and single race seat which made it look very nice indeed.

 Ohhhhh... the shame!

Conclusions from this period: Grown up, great job, fantastic wife and family but the "boy" in me sneaked out when I least expected it.

Growing up a bit - drag racing

Road bike ownership was replaced by an old Wolesley 6/110 car as the main form of transport. Bikes certainly weren't forgotten though because mechanical engineering studies awakened an interest in engine development. The decision was taken to build a drag bike, partly because of the outrageous horsepower achievable with a supercharger and nitromethane but also because riding in a straight line would not expose my inability to go round corners at a fair lick without falling off.

 The Mk1 supercharged 3TA 350cc drag bike, circa 1967

The first attempt at building a hot motor consisted of sticking a supercharger on a nearly stock Triumph 350cc twin motor and running it on methanol. Optimisim was soon replaced with pessimism when piston crowns regularly separated at the oil control ring as a result of high revs. A few calculations were done and a short-stroke crankshaft was built in the engineering labs and mated to a modified 500cc barrel to make a very over-square 350 to reduce mean piston speed. A whole load of other mods were carried out at the same time and a prolonged cycle of "blow it up, fix it, improve it and blow it up again" was entered into. The engineering work during this period would fill a book by itself.

The short stroke Mk 2 bike, Santa Pod UK, circa 1970 (courtesy Pete Miller)

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.... the hairy 1970's (courtesy Pete Miller)

The photo of me above shows a buckled alloy pushrod, one of the many engineering problems to be overcome and was fixed by replacing them with titanium. A friend recently commented that I looked like an extra from the TV series "The Avengers", which I thought was a bit uncalled for! The photo below is of me hanging on grimly at Santa Pod raceway.

 Nice hole shot! (courtesy Pete Miller)

 
Eventually, Icarus became extremely competitive at a national level over the quarter mile and at world level over the standing start mile but the time and money to go further was beyond my means, interest waned and racing was abandoned.

As a footnote, the engine languished for many years in the shed of a friend,  John Hancock, who went on to become R&D Director at Cosworth Engineering, the race car engine builders.  It may still be there!!

Conclusions from this period: A happy marriage of engineering theory and practice by actually using my education to have fun! Worrying signs of maturity appearing.

The passion really starts to get a hold....

A century or two ago when I was 18 or 19!

The replacement for my Triumph 3TA was yet another Triumph - a 1955 tuned Tiger 100. It was immaculate with chrome everywhere. At this point in time, big bikes fell into one of two categories: cafe racer or Marlon Brando Wild One lookalike. The Triumph fell into the latter category with raised bars, spotlights and mirrors on long stalks which folded back and trapped you at speeds greater than 80 mph! Dropped "Ace" bars were subsequently fitted which gave a significantly more comfortable ride on the open road. To be really cool, the silencers were occasionally removed for a good blast round town on straight pipes. I intensely dislike noisy "boy racers" which is a fair pointer to how the rest of the population would have felt about me at that time!

Owning early Triumphs certainly honed both mechanical and electrical skills which was quite handy for someone who was en route to becoming a professional engineer! Patience was a prerequisite, although not always in evidence. On one infamous occasion whilst fitting a new centre stand spring, the screwdriver slipped and I ended up punching the concrete floor with great force. There was an explosion of light and red mist. When it cleared, I found that I'd stabbed the seat several times with the screwdriver. It was a good insight with respect to how crimes of passion occur!

The undoubted highlight of ownership was going to the 1969 Isle of Man TT with friends. A dawn blast round the circuit in Practice Week is fondly remembered, especially for getting the drum brakes so hot that the grease in the wheel bearings started running past the seals and smoking furiously! Meeting two Scottish girls who were holidaying in the IOM was also memorable, but best left at that. The photo taken at the IOM shows the gorgeous Anne McGregor who either liked me or was colour blind as my taste in casual clothing was appalling - green knitted cardigan, orange T shirt, twill trousers and suede boots. Aaargh....

 The shame of it....  not my best look

Conclusions from this period:
Rode like a complete pillock, far in excess of my minimal ability and was lucky to live through it. Started to realise that girls weren't turned on by riding pillion in a freezing British winter and that I'd better start thinking about 4 wheels if I wanted to score or at least losing my manhood to frostbite. Moderate signs of maturity appearing although debatable from a parental viewpoint.

The intermediate years....

Passing my test and leaving school saw the acquisition of a Triumph 350cc twin because of the need for a larger commuter vehicle. It was my main form of transport in snow, rain and everything else that nature had to offer. I think that's why I'm fairly relaxed about riding in all weathers now. The bike was a charmless old pudding with a restrained 20 bhp or thereabouts, but was faster than the Suzuki. Speed meant everything and I'm ashamed to say that I rode everywhere like a complete twat! The lack of good riding skills was soon demonstrated when a car did a U turn in front of me and I was travelling too fast to stop. The resultant impact threw me over the bars, but not before my wedding tackle snagged on the rather prominent friction steering damper on the way past. The bike wasn't badly damaged but I ended up walking like John Wayne for the best part of a week due to the large purple plums in my trousers - yowwww! Lesson 1 about being aware of one's surroundings and riding to the conditions forcibly driven home.

Triumph 3TA

(source: Chiffins, UK)

Ownership of the 3TA coincided with the period when Japanese bikes were becoming a more common sight on British roads and they were also developing a deserved reputation for performance. This was demonstrated in humiliating fashion one day by a 100cc Yamaha sports twin that I picked a fight with. It simply buggered off into the distance and I knew right then that the Triumph's days were numbered. I suppose it also demonstrated a typical young male's preoccupation which might be described as a "mine's bigger than yours" approach to life!

A bit of background.....

Hello!

This is me in the helmet - excruciating, isn't it? The photo was taken when I was 5, which coincided with the start of my motorcycling career. Dad owned a James 2 stroke which he used to take me for short runs round the UK Northamptonshire village I grew up in.

I've just turned 62, although my long-suffering wife Jennie says (on numerous occasions) that I struggle to get past 5 in terms of maturity. Wives are known for skipping the niceties! From that young and innocent age, I've been hooked on bikes.

The real trigger for this life-long obsession came about in my early teens, regularly going with a few school mates to the local coffee bar which was a hang-out for the local bikers on their British Iron - mainly Triumphs, Nortons and BSA's. We thought that they were absolute gods when they put a record on the juke box and tried to do a lap of town before the music finished. In turn, they undoubtedly thought that we were complete jerks, turning up on our pushbikes with apehanger bars with tassels hanging out of the bar-ends - talk about embarrassing!

Anyway, grab some popcorn and read on for a light-hearted account of my riding experiences....