PIP HIGHAM
Pip regales us with some tea-time stories!
Dust’a want a brew lad? That’s ‘want’ with an ‘a’ not an ‘o’ mind. This was one of the most oft heard bellows at VBS towers back in the day. (For those of you youngsters out there who never encountered ‘VBS’, that stood for Village Bike Shop, a poor attempt at a humorous moniker for my tooning business which stuck like chain lube to a Levi’s leg; after a while it just had to stay.)
We made a lot of tea back then, it always helped to maintain spirits at times of duress. And I have to say we experienced plenty of those. Mike and Brian, my two long-suffering side-kicks, were amazing at stuff I simply couldn’t do, Mike was, and still is, a meticulous engine builder with standards that could not be faulted. He took his tea big with about five sugars, but don’t stir it up, he don’t like it sweet.
Brian, who has since sadly passed away, drank his tea from a sensible cup, but at a strength that could stun a rutting deer. Brian was blessed with infinite patience, particularly when faced with the irksome task of refitting carburettors into increasingly (should that be de-creasingly) tight confines with many tubes, wires and cables. It’s 20 years now since I closed the doors at ‘The Workhouse’, but it doesn’t take much to transport me back there; a tool, or fixture made to solve a tricky problem, or a chat with one of our old customers invariably sets off a gentle nostalgia-lanche, sometimes good, sometimes not so good.
Like the Last Chance Saloon, when we had no work, I mean no work at all! The floor was swept and painted, the lathe and toolbox were immaculate, we’d even rebuilt my ST50! And on Friday afternoon I had wages to find. When I think back the ‘wages’ were dreadful, but I had been running on fumes for quite a while and it appeared that our going rate of a tenner an hour was unacceptable to our niche collection of customers. Then in through the door strode Rob, general good egg and owner of many varied transportation devices, with a big piece of folded card and a box full of switches and instruments under his arm. Hmm, a voltmeter, a boost gauge, ok, a compass, uh? And now an altimeter? Among Rob’s trinkets, he owned a light aircraft and he needed to replace the instrument panel, a much vibrated, drilled, cracked and generally battered item that exhibited everything that has always made me nervous about taking to the air in small, possibly home-built aircraft.
Could we create a fitting new panel to accommodate all the associated kit and caboodle? Oh yes, we were no strangers to unusual jobs and the need to find the wages was a great motivator. Previously we had built test rigs for a company based in Leigh to measure the pull-out loads of the three-pin electrical sockets that they produced in large quantities; ya couldn’t make it up! If I can collect my grey cells I’ll try to collate a brief resumé of some of the other bizarre projects we took on; like I said previously, the need to, etc. Rob’s job expanded and over the next few days we came up with a beautiful engine turned chunk of HE30 with instruments, switchgear and a custom harness to match. Not sure what the CAA would have made of our input, but it was significantly more competent than its predecessor and, best of all, the wages got paid!
Even now, many years later, thanks to the wonders of Google, mates from 25 years back pop up. Julian, one of our faithful from that era, contacted me recently with the following little yarn. I’m sure he won’t mind me sharing it:
‘Just wanted to pass on a quick story. Last year I was working near Milwaukee, Wisconsin. At the end of the week the plant manager and I had a night out and went to Great Lakes Dragway. Walking around the pits I saw a 1979 (ahem) Suzuki GSX with the big round headlight. I started chatting with the owner who was also a Brit. I mentioned I knew a guy back in the day used to ride a similar bike at Santa Pod. Owner immediately said, “I know who you mean, Pip something – used to wear dungarees and tear up the track”. Pip, thought you might enjoy that flashback. Cheers Julian.’
Subsequent to me shutting up shop, I missed the laughs and the feeling of pride when we returned a much pummelled GS or GSX engine, suitably refreshed, to its owner. They were good times, and I still get a buzz when I hear about the odd one that’s still straightening out its owner’s arms. They weren’t just good times, they were great times, Thanks Mike, RIP Brian.