Misguided mums, Motorcycle Sport, April 1964

What is a mum? Well we all know by now that they care. Because they care, they are often against motorcycles: which is misguided. Riding a motorcycle is healthy, manly and the only real training in road craft.

Some very wise and experienced men have said these things about motorcycling. Risks there are, as in all manly sports – as in climbing, pot-holing (Note: I have no idea) and swimming but the motorcyclist does not often involve anyone but himself.

If Death the Reaper strikes, he strikes but single, not scything through the foolhardy and the innocent alike in some four-wheeled coffin.

Danger there is, as in almost every step one takes, but in its very proximity on two wheels there is safety. In its remoteness on four wheels lies a greater danger.

For mums who care for daughters the motorcycle is a blessing in disguise. Far safer, from what used to be regarded as a fate worse than death, is the girl who rides pillion…

With the wind in her hair and oil stains on her jeans, she is far safer from the temptations of sex than she will ever be in a car.

The motorcyclist swain (Note: young lover or suitor) is likely to be more concerned about a loose tappet than with attempts on her virtue.

As an anonymous poet once put it (in Bemsee, the British Motor Cycle Racing Club mag):

“Oh damsel fair, beware the car Where seating space is wider far Than any man of reason needs Except to further his misdeeds

The steering column change eschew No good can come of it for you And likewise any motor shun

From which you can’t bale out and run.

Let maiden modesty decide

To take a summer evening ride On something of the cycle breed

For virtue’s friend was ever speed No vulpine sibilance can come

From guileless lips of goggled chum.

With passion he is never dizzy

(his motor keeps him far too busy) And even dual seats preclude

The acrobatic interlude.