Few people have lived a life as full as Stan Dibben. Rachael Clegg shares the experience.
Former sidecar champion, shopping trolley genius and master of powdered soups, and all in one man – meet Stanley Dibben, the man with the sparkle in his eyes.
“STAN DIBBEN’S FAVOURITE PHRASE IS ‘STORIES WITHIN STORIES’ AND HE CERTAINLY HAS A FEW TALES TO TELL.”
If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then Stan Dibben’s are a bright, shiny but equally deep and emotive place. Born in 1925, the World Champion sidecar rider has lived a thousand lives in one. Random, eclectic, exciting – each variant of Dibben’s 89 years (and counting) has been dominated by an indefatigable sprit, manifested in that signature sparkle in his eyes. ‘Stories within stories’, is Dibben’s favourite phrase, and he certainly has a few tales to tell. And here, in his modest Gloucestershire haven with a vegetable Cup a Soup and two slices of brown bread, he talks about his life... Stan Dibben was 14 years old when war broke out in 1939. He was at boarding school – thanks to his late father’s Freemasons membership. But it wasn’t a happy experience. Every morning boys were submerged into cold water and his colleagues were mainly bullies, and the food – while healthy – was so routine he can still recall the menu today. Yet those gruelling days at the Royal Masonic School for Boys, Hertfordshire, would shape Dibben’s character and more specifically, his skills as a sidecar rider. “At school I was subjected to discipline that would be totally unacceptable today and when you are subjected to discipline like that you learn to accept it, as well as impose self-discipline.” As a sidecar rider, Dibben needed plenty of self-control, as he explains: “There’s no doubt about it, riding a sidecar involves an awful lot of self-discipline.” Though it wouldn’t be until 1952 that his sidecar racing career would take off, but more of that later... After leaving school Dibben worked as, among other things, farmer’s helper, a bakery delivery boy and an apprentice at the Mid Southern Utility Company. “My wage at the utility company was 10 shillings for a 521⁄ hour week, about 10% of 2 the adult wage, with an extra 6d for my bicycle.” It was 1941, and the war was well established across Europe. “At night German bombers would fly overhead, sounding low enough to me,” he recalls in his book, Hold On!. “On one occasion a bomber released its deadly load a mile up the road in a field while trying to get away.” These aerial battles or ‘dog fights’ left an imprint on his mind. As soon as he turned 18 he volunteered for the RAF aircrew but his request was rejected. He was, however, asked to join the Navy as an electrician, a calling he didn’t initially welcome. “I tried to argue I was in a reserved occuation but I had to join because I had already volunteered for another service. I had to report immediately to the Royal Navy barracks at Gosport,” he said. On his first day he received his uniform; his new identity, MX634892 was imprinted on his cap. But Dibben was accustomed to institutionalisation, other crew members weren’t. “On retiring and lights out, I was surprised to hear young men, never before away from home, crying themselves to sleep.”