A LOVE LOST
THESE LATEST ISSUES of CB have had me pulling up sandbag after sandbag, relating old tales of my biking youth. So here’s another – this time stirred by going through all the Ducati 750GT words and pics that Alan Cathcart sent us for this month’s cover feature.
I’d stupidly sold my gorgeous TR6 to pursue a career working for the Queen (actually on an RAF base – big mistake, long story, best forgotten). I figured I’d be done with bikes at this time and had my life all mapped out, but at weekends I still wanted to dash home to
Wiltshire, hang out with my mates, play footie on Saturday afternoon and drink beer on Sunday night. You know the kinda deal. I suppose I never could quite make the break...
After at least... oh, two weeks (I’m not kiddin’) I realised I couldn’t live without a bike, so I started looking around for something to buy. In the village near the base there was a bike shop with a pristine, secondhand Ducati 750 Sport for sale, with a bright orange tank, clipons and Contis. I mean, what more could a young lunatic wish for?
Problem was, back home in Bath, Holloways had this bright red BSA A65 Lightning. But the higher price of the Ducati wasn’t insurmountable.
So my dilemma was: should I go for the highlystrung, lithe-looking, sexy Italian mistress who everyone told me would break my heart with her tempestuous electrics – or would I be better off cosying up to that more predictable, reliable and somewhat voluptuous British darling?
Yeah, I plumped for the Beeza – but always regretted letting that racy Ducati slip through my fingers. Looking back, I reckon I took my ire out on that poor A65, because I absolutely ragged the life out of the poor old girl.
Eventually, the inevitable happened – we fell out. Well, more precisely, I fell off, throwing her down the road. I recall watching the slow-motion accident unfold as I slid along behind her, the left footpeg punching a hole in the chaincase and all the metal bits in contact with the slick Tarmac showering me in sparks.
I fixed the damage and part-exchanged the bike for a brand new 750 Bonnie. Some people never learn. And the career? Yeah, lasted about as long as the BSA. I bought out my contract and reverted to being a long-haired dropout! Some people never change...
Enjoy the issue
‘I REGRETTED LETTING THAT RACY DUCATI SLIP THROUGH MY FINGERS’