The freedom of the bike and the roads
Having a long connection with motorcycling, I’ve just bought another old vintage motorbike to restore from a good friend Peter Bell.
I’ve known Peter for many years now. We sat and chatted about our days together as apprentice butchers at the Farmers Co Op in New Plymouth in the early 70s, when we’d leave on a Friday night and head off to Ohope beach for the weekend.
Lots of memories came flooding back from both of us of when we first tasted the freedom of a motorcycle.
Peter at that time rode around on his father’s old Ariel 500 and often on a Friday night we’d cruise the main street of New Plymouth getting up to mischief.
We’d nail steel plates to our leather boots and drag them on the road sending a spray of red hot sparks 30 ft behind us, that sort of stuff, and occasionally do something dumb like a u-turn at the traffic lights and get a warning from the traffic cops on duty.
We’d try and outrun them sometimes, and one night we hightailed it down Devon St with the cops in pursuit and turned down the lane behind the old State hotel which was a dead end then...very stupid as we had nowhere to go! But we were young and bulletproof!
The old Ariel was a great bike and never let Pete down. I remember him at work one day when he went out to start it at lunchtime and it nearly launched him over the handlebars when the damn thing kicked back on him. Men were known to get a broken leg from that, if your leg got in the way of the kickstarter when the engine spat back on you.
He reminded me of the night we slept on a shingle pile, and I reminded him of when we slept in wheelbarrows one night and I had a kink in my neck for a week!.
Anyway, we’d take off on Friday night, Pete on his Ariel and me on my new SL 125 Honda, so it must have been 1972. We’d stay off the side of the road in a haybarn somewhere in the National Park and then carry on Saturday morning to Whakatane where his Uncle and Aunty lived and his lovely cousin Barbara!
Ohope Beach was a great spot and it was a great weekend away. We stayed at Pete’s relations Saturday night and left for home on Sunday morning.
On our second trip over there Pete’s old bike came to a dead stop going through Rotorua, and after removing the spark plug, found it was faulty. I took off to the nearest petrol station and was sold a new plug.
The shop assistant gave us the correct length plug, but as it turned out, it was a hot heat range plug and within a few miles his poor old bike came to a sudden standstill from a hole burnt through the piston. Sadly that ended the trip.
The third trip over was with a bunch of guys we hung out with in Devon St. Japanese bikes were very popular and a huge number of them cruised the streets of New Plymouth from about 1971 onwards.
In the group, who all had 1971 Honda CL175 twin motorcycles were John Berry, Mark Abraham and Kim Coleman, Owen Irving had a CB450 twin Honda, Peter Bell had his Ariel 500 and me on my new 1972 Kawasaki S1 triple.
Off we set on a Friday night, stayed in an old barn the night as usual, and carried on the next morning. We arrived at Ohope Beach and hung out there all day, spotting the talent and just having fun, great days.
Those times are probably never to be seen again really. Simple times of fun and adventure.
Peter eventually ended up with his old faithful Ariel 500 from his dad, and I now own the second bike, a 1953 Ariel Red Hunter 500 that I’ve just bought from Pete, which his dad had stashed away all those years. It will soon breathe life again and join my collection of old favourites.
Fun rides ahead on the old bikes, and treasured memories!