FROM THE FRONT

Way back in the foggy mists of antiquity, soon after the classic bike was resurrected out of the ashes of the old industry, one of the first manifestations of this back-from-thedead enthusiasm was the sudden rise of the autojumble. I remember it well. I was at the time clattering around aboard a 1959 Matchless G9 of dubious reliability but great charm, and whenever I needed spares, the only source was the owners’ club, which wasn’t always easy in those postal days.

Enter the autojumble.

Back then I was living near Chester and working near Wrexham, and as commuting on the Matchless became … unpredictable, I bought my first-ever new bike, an MZ TS125 for the commute. Similar performance to the old Matchless, but rather more reliable and considerably more frugal, too. In the end the G9 was sidelined by magneto trouble – the K2F camring was so worn that the advance / retard adjusting cable couldn’t grip it, and the cam would rotate all by itself – helped maybe by the vibration – and the timing would slip. New camrings were entirely unavailable and although I scoured the steadily vanishing breakers, I couldn’t find another. Buying a complete magneto would have cost as much as another Matchless. And it probably wouldn’t work…

I bought a 1953 AJS 20 for £79, and still have it. Which is slightly strange.

It wasn’t worth selling the G9 because it wasn’t actually worth anything. Which is also strange.

Then of course The Great Rise Of The Autojumble fixed that. There was a good one in Chester, a decent one near Ellesmere Port, and an unbelievably incredible fantastic one in Bolton. The latter was organised by one Alan Whitehead, who did so well that he organised a classic bike show at Manchester’s Belle Vue. That transformed into the mighty Stafford events which we still know and love.

However, I’m missing my point – which was that as hordes of like-minded lunatics gathered to sort through hoards of previously worthless spares for worn-out old Brit bikes, it became clear that firstly there were lots of spares out there, secondly loads of folk wanted to buy them, and finally… it was great fun. I always enjoyed jumbling, and still possess a surprising amount of NOS old junk I bought in the late 70s.

Which brings us up to date. I’ve been clearing a lot of bikes from The Shed, which has created a lot of empty space, which has revealed that I do indeed have a lot of stuff piled on shelves, in boxes and cupboards and generally lying around. And being honest about it, I’m never going to use it, so it would be best if I sold it on to a fellow sufferer for them to use as they see fit.

And here’s the snag. Nowadays we live down in the South West, in Cornwall, where there appear to be no jumbles. The last nearly-local bash was in Barnstaple, and that was several years ago. Packing a van to the rafters with heavy, oily, bulky, rusty bits and carting it all off to any of the major events doesn’t really appeal much. And I absolutely hate haggling.

What is a chap to do? Ride safely