The further adventures of Mickey Sparra!
Last month we brought you Mike Woodley’s wonderful memoir of how he started out on motorcycles. So what happened next? Let Mike tell you…
It’s strange how things change; about three months before my 17th birthday I was offered a tatty ex-council Mini van with a duff gearbox and a log book for next to no money. So, after borrowing the cash from mum, the Arrow got parked up. I scrounged a lift into work each day and any spare time I had was spent fitting a reconditioned gearbox in the Mini van and getting it ready for the necessary MoT so I could use it.
I’d actually been really fortunate on the way as when I was 15 years old I’d got an evening job tidying up the grounds and pitch at Woodford Town football club via the grounds manager, Mr Keys, my secondary school truant officer who’d got to know me.
Eventually he went on to teach me to drive in the old 1932 Morris light van that was used to tow the pitch roller, including how to use the starting handle and double de-clutch. Reversing eventually became a doddle, as did manoeuvring through narrow gaps to park the van in the shed. Driving round the empty car park became a perk that I enjoyed, not realising its true value. But it meant that I only had to pay for two driving lessons, one before the test and the second for the use of a Ford Anglia for the test.
I passed my car test in the week of my 17th birthday and the excouncil Mini van became my next fad.
Somehow a 1959 BSA C12 filled the road-going motorcycle gap until the night of my 18th birthday – and disaster struck! A guy and his two mates on a BSA outfit decided they could overtake me before I took the right turn that my girlfriend and my hand signals were clearly indicating that we intended making. With me not knowing the planned manoeuvre was happening, they didn't make the overtake and I ended up in A&E at Wanstead Hospital with a badly smashed left foot, plus other injuries.
Fortunately my then girlfriend only had slight superficial injuries, but I was much worse off. Had it not been for the then newly invented spray on skin, old-fashioned stitches would probably have resulted in me looking like some sort of extra in a Frankenstein’s monster film given my facial abrasions which were probably made worse by not wearing a crash helmet (of course, not not compulsory back then).
The Arrow is sold
With three operations and three months off work and a bundle of laughs while I was on crutches, the Mini van and the Arrow were sold.
With the pittance of insurance payout on the C12, I bought a 500 Velocette Venom that needed a new clutch. Once the clutch was sorted and I mastered the ritual of starting the Venom it was a great bike, but the truth is, in my teenage years I really didn’t appreciate it – and, to be honest, courting and cars were influencing my recreation.
I was given a Puch scooter which I stripped down and used on the river bank. I bought a split screen sidevalve Morris Minor and then an A55 Cambridge that I successfully tuned, and then a V8 Ford Pilot
(GJB 20) I’d bought for £80 and that I wished I still had came into my life. That was followed by an 850 Mini, a Vauxhall Hydramatic, another Mini and finally a Sunbeam Imp that eventually led me back to bikes... with which I've been involved ever since.
Jean and I married in October 1970 (our
50th anniversary came and went during the Covid restrictions) and in August of 1971 we moved to Cornwall. I’d not had a bike for a while although my interest was still there and I got to know a couple of local lads who had bikes. Eventually I was offered a BSA-framed bike that had been built up as a scrambler; it had a 500 Triumph engine with mag ignition, hi-level open exhausts, short Norton Roadholder forks, a glass fibre tank and seat unit, no lights and was on motocross tyres. Whoever built that up obviously had far more knowledge than I at the time as it was a really good dirt bike and I spent many happy hours thrashing that around the airfield and dirt tracks up at Perranporth airfield. Occasionally I’d ride across the beach at low tide when there was no one about. I often look back to those days knowing now that I was lucky to have (even if I didn't fully appreciate at the time) the freedom and thrills I had back then.
Life changes
As the birth of our son Daniel approached in early 1974, I was riding home from work one evening on my plungerframed A10 when the realisation of my changing responsibilities hit me big time. It was almost like being hit from behind by something heavy. My recreational exploits became influenced by money, or should I say the lack of it. Various sources of income presented themselves but, as always, I was looking for more. When, in 1976, I was offered the chance of driving from Cornwall to London and back four days a week doing multi-drop work that paid per day for what seemed to be good money, I enthusiastically grabbed it with both hands, realising that if I liked what I’d be doing (which I did) and it was successful (which it was) the four days would become five days and would possibly allow me to get my own van and be my own boss and maybe even expand.
Bikes were still my main hobby as I still had my A10 and the Tribsa scrambler, plus I'd got to own my own Lutonbodied van, along with the potential to get work for a second one. As time went on, we moved back to Woodford in
1981 because I was now working as a manager for the company that had given me the van work.
I was travelling from Cornwall to London in the early hours every Monday in an ex-police Ford Granada, then driving back to Perranporth on a Friday afternoon, plus I now had two guys working for me doing the deliveries. As much as I would have loved to stay in Cornwall, it made sense to buy a house via a mortgage, saving on petrol.
The A10 had been replaced by a 350 Velocette Viper, but the Tribsa was still with me, and I also had a Domi 99 and a 6T Triumph that I'd bought to sell at a profit when we moved into the house we were buying in Woodford. The Dominator, Triumph
650 and Tribsa were sold pretty much the week we moved back and the Velo was sold to cover the cost of the central heating I eventually installed. This meant a short period of being bikeless, and I hated it.
I swapped the expolice Granada for a twoyear-old Yamaha DT250, replacing the Granada with a Cortina estate
I’d bought cheaply and then pretty soon ended up with a nice XS650 Yamaha, followed by a Honda CB900. In the mid-80s I realised that British bike values were gradually increasing, so it seemed smart to buy British if I wanted to keep my youthful memories, not knowing that would become a pattern. I'd also got my son riding when he was young, initially on a mini twist and go. As he grew taller I fitted it with longer forks and rear shocks from an old scrapped BSA Beagle before picking up a Suzuki
T100 that I judged to be the right size for him. Eventually I acquired a Honda XL250S basket case, helping him build that up to ride as he got better on that Suzuki. I was using a road legal Honda XL250S myself and had an old Sherpa van that I used to take the bikes to wherever we could get permission to ride. I actually have pictures of both him and myself airborne on one of our trips back down to Cornwall.
Daniel follows in my footsteps
My son inevitably came off the XL250 and, although not hurt too badly, that really tore into me and I felt terrible seeing my son in pain with the accompanying cuts and bruises. He wanted to get back on the XL but I had other safer and less risky ideas. So, sitting him behind the wheel of the Sherpa I repeatedly explained the functions of the footoperated clutch, brake
and accelerator and then sat beside him in the van, going over again the function of the foot controls.
He was able to start driving in a figure of eight on an empty car parking area. Pretty soon he had progressed to being able to change gear and history was repeated by what Jim Keys had taught me when I was around the same age as my son. Eventually he was driving an extended figure of eight totally on his own as I played on the XL250 while keeping a watchful eye.
I've been fortunate enough to have many bikes come and go – although not necessarily always road bikes – and I haven't owned a car now for almost six years and probably won't again. As with the majority of us ‘bikers,’ justification of the money involved has always dictated what comes and goes over time. As mentioned, I sold my only bike at the time, a 350 Velo
MSS, to pay for the central heating in our first house in 1981, but fortunately most of the bikes I’ve owned have either resulted in me getting my outlay back or given me a small profit allowing me to move on to the next bike. In 1991 I sold my Honda 750 to pay for double glazing on our next house, and, amongst the classics
I've been lucky enough to own have been that Velo 350, a plunger
BSA A7, a Matchless G9, two 1949 Sunbeam S8s (which I still have and that my grandsons will eventually inherit), a 120 Panther (which I really regret selling), a G12 with sidecar (as supplied new by Pride & Clarke to its first owner in 1961), a 200cc Arrow, a 250cc Leader, two different Ariel Huntmasters and a fair few other models and makes. I feel I got my priorities right covering the matrimonial and family financial needs responsibly.
The solo 120 Panther came from Andy Tiernan and, once I’d got used to it and had it running properly, I really liked that bike and given the opportunity to own another 120, if it came along at the right price, I would not hesitate. I’ve also owned two solo Panther 100s and, in my opinion, the 120 is the more usable bike in modern traffic.
A very interesting outfit
The Matchless G12 outfit was possibly the most interesting of those bikes as it came with loads of original documentation, including the original schedule of works clipped to the bill of sale. When I went to view it, I deliberately went by solo motorcycle so I wouldn’t be tempted on the first examination!
The outfit was parked in a large barn on a small holding not far from Brands Hatch and it refused to start initially. But it was well assembled, looked original, had good compression and first impressions were encouraging. Unfazed by the refusal to start, being as it was on a BTH mag I asked the owner and his helper if I could pull the spark plugs, clean them and try again.
Pulling the plugs revealed that both were oiled and were not matching. So eventually, after rummaging around various boxes, two reasonable matching plugs were found, cleaned, gapped and fitted. The G12 obliged by starting first kick and sounded great – loud but great. Result.
Negotiations ensued and a deal was done. I returned to pick the bike up with a friend in my wife's car with a precautionary tow rope and a few tools in the back. I paid the balance owed and rode the bike away, heading for the M25 with the intention to come off on the A2 and use the Blackwall tunnel to get home.
Unfortunately, the G12 outfit had other ideas. When approaching one of the many almost stationary holdups on the M25, and with the intended exit almost in sight, the engine cut out and I coasted onto the hard shoulder. My friend followed me to a stop and it became obvious the G12 was not going to restart. Although we are not meant to, the tow rope was used to tow me along the hard shoulder and off the motorway as that seemed to be the safest option and I hope any police officer who might see this would agree. The tow off was the easy part, but the journey home was a dangerous nightmare and will never, ever be repeated. But we made it, and then sod’s law played a part with the G12 starting first kick once we'd got home!
The problem was eventually diagnosed as the condenser failing when the mag got hot and was fixed by installing a 12 volt electronic ignition powered by a 12 volt car battery in the sidecar.
That G12 ran beautifully from then on, with the bonus of having 12 volt lighting should it be needed. But after a trip back from the Sidecar Sunday meet at the Ace Café which involved a lot of stop-starting and crawling along in traffic, those noisy exhausts were driving me nuts. I eventually quietened them down with cheap eBay push in baffles inserted in the ends of the silencers.
Motortunist or Opporcyclist?
It’s strange really because sometimes I wonder if I've become an opportunist as opposed to being a motorcyclist (maybe a motortunist or opporcyclist?). But I realise that I'm probably both as automatically turning to the small adds of whatever monthly drops through the letter box has become the norm.
I'm fortunate enough to have managed – so far at least – to do the financial balancing act that allows me to indulge in the hunt, the chase, possibly an eventual purchase, ownership and sale, and then start all over again. I’ll probably never find whatever bike it is that I think I really want to keep.
Times have moved on and the friends with whom I used to ride have passed over, and I really did have some brilliant outings with them. But, to keep involved in bikes and the physical challenges motorcycles can bring, over the last 10 years I've built up several outfits, hopefully each being better than the last, and I've owned my current outfit for almost three years now. I'd identified in my mind’s eye that, through experiencing the previous outfits I’d built, this particular make and model, a Suzuki GSX1100G, would probably be my ideal. Perhaps it’s a keeper as so far those thoughts have not changed. My outfit does exactly what I expect, has character and looks I really like.
I've only seen two others at a sidecar rallies, one in Belgium and one in the UK two years ago.
In 2020 I sold off five bikes from my modest collection, a 1955 AJS
350 and a 350 Matchless, my Matchless G9, my 1960 BSA A65 along with my 2007 750 Guzzi Breva. It was a small loss on the Guzzi, but given the time I'd owned the others, the two 350s just about returned my money while the G9 and A65 made a bit more than they owed me. I sold them simply because they were not (and probably would not be) getting used. I decided the time was right to sell as I could ride either one of the S8s, plus I've agreed to buy a Royal Enfield Super Meteor from my friend Trevor and I'm seriously considering buying his Mk 5 Douglas.
My one new bike
I’ve only ever purchased one bike on finance, a Yamaha TRX850 bought new in February 1996, and I still have that.
I guess some readers won't regard the TRX as a classic but, taking into account it’s now 25 years old and has always been a fairly rare machine to see on the road, I suspect it will be eventually.
I first saw one racing at Le Mans back in 1995 and was fascinated by this unusual exhaust sound I kept hearing during the racing. A couple of the lads I was with managed to blag our way into the pits and I found out a company called Over Racing owned it.
It had taken a production Yamaha 849cc twin engine installed in a trellis frame resembling a Ducati frame, tuned the engine to give 112 bhp at the back wheel and raced it. I was hooked.
Originally the TRXs came into this country as grey imports, finally becoming official imports in 1996.
Mine was one of the first batch of official UK models registered – possibly even the first – and, once I’d run it in, I did a couple of trips into Europe on it and then had a crack at track days.
I was struggling back then to stay with Fireblades and 1000cc Exups with my bike’s 74 brake horsepower at the rear wheel. So I decided to try extracting a little more oomph by improving the engine’s breathing, eventually re-boring the engine to around about 875cc which rewarded me with a dyno recorded rear wheel power of 86.5bhp and a 64ft lb-ft of torque on PDQ’s dyno. Those mods made my bike a much nicer road bike, feeling more tractable as well as better on fuel, and a useful track day tool as and when I could afford to do them.
It’s a great bike, has never been crashed and now wears a Yamahainfluenced colour scheme, I doubt I will ever sell it.