I love classic British bikes
Too young to ride back in the day and too mechanically inept and financially challenged to have one today, my love of classic British bikes consists of looking at them when I get the chance.
Which is why I was at the National Motorcycle Museum in Birmingham the other day, drooling over these beautiful machines. I was alone briefly in one hall when in ran a young lad of about seven or eight closely followed by his father. The boy ran straight under the rope barrier that separates precious metal from admirers, clambered aboard a Triumph Tigress scooter and pretended he was riding the classic down the road.
I looked on in some shock, half expecting sirens, flashing lights and a team of security to come running in. None of this happened and after having a photo taken by his dad, the boy was off and running into the next hall.
I felt quite put out by this disregard for the sanctity of the museum and these beautiful old bikes. Then I realised why I felt so strongly.
I was insanely jealous of this lad who had run into a hall filled with motorbikes and done the most natural thing that came to him. For I too had the same natural instincts at 50 years of age.
I would have chosen a BSA Gold Star over the Triumph scooter and hopefully I would have controlled myself enough not to make the: “Vroom vroom beep beep” noises the little chap made. (I couldn’t make any promises though) but sadly I will probably never know what it’s like to sit on a Classic Brit, let alone ride one. I came away from the museum wishing there were more opportunities to touch, feel, sit on and even ride classic bikes, instead of just looking at them.
That and wishing I was seven again. Best regards Chris Nightingale