ONLY FORWARDS

I don’t very often disagree with the things Rowena writes, but my experience with going back to bikes you’ve had and loved in the past (Members Enclosure, Jan) is the opposite of hers. Despite two or three years of teething agony, my 1960 Panther M120 now feels and rides exactly as I remember from my youth: slow, ponderous, oily, etc, but full of inexplicable charm.

At first I did wonder whether I had made a ‘rose-tinted spectacles’ mistake, but now I know I haven’t. The ‘new’ bike lives up to my memory in every way. My only regret is that I can’t afford to buy the 1950 Panther M100 that was my first true love.

Members’ Enclosure struck a chord with me. Rose-tinted glasses are best not to be worn at all! I wanted another Royal Enfield 350 Clipper because I had one in 1970. It never worked out and I had to sell it to a local classic bike dealer. I had a large hole in my pocket afterwards!

I was struck by the different experience I had when I got my second BSA Starfire, some fifty years after acquiring my first. In 1969, as a callow 16 year-old, my first bike was a 1968 Starfire. To my eyes it was a gorgeous hunk of metal, so much so that I wrote a song about it! I passed my test on it after just six weeks in the saddle. The engine seized a few months later while

I was chasing a couple of giggling girls, who encouraged my antics from the back seat of their dad’s Jaguar. Duly repaired, I nonetheless swapped the Starfire for a TRIBSA café racer.

I’ve had many modern bikes since, all British and all fantastic. My last traditional British bike was a Norton Commando Interstate before I moved onto Hinckley Triumphs. I often wondered whether my first bike was as impressive as I remembered it: smart looking, quick, good for over 80mph, economical and great handling. But I was only 16, what did I know?

Well, quite a lot, going by the 1969 Starfire I acquired in retirement, my first of a stable of classic bikes. It’s been joined by a 1972 T150V Trident and a 1974 T100R Daytona. I still found the Starfire to be the same as I remembered, better if anything. Having said that, I’ve now replaced it with a 1971 B25SS Gold Star: same engine but just that little bit cooler in 2021!

Can we turn back the clock with the bike/s of our youth in an effort to get back some of the joyous newness? Can time be warped with the same models of bike, re-living the same problems, breakdowns, same deficiencies like poor lights and brakes, similar chatting up of total strangers for a push, or a ‘hold this’? The same laughing with strangers when they laughed at you, sharing their mirth. Perforce we ran such machines as we could afford. That meant, in 1966 or thereabouts, it had to cost not more than a tenner or so. And I made memories. Can we get back bits of that youth and joy? I will argue that we can... at least, teasing, ephemeral bits. These may be addictive enough to not envy Mr/ms in their 4x4s or on the latest Adventure Bikes one little bit while chugging along on my Panther 650 or my Scott. The near-certainty of the other folk getting to their destination, on time, warm and comfortable, are high. Mine aren’t and that’s fine thank you very much. I only have my bikes and a Trabant.

Take New Year’s Eve just gone. The Panther got me about 70 miles of the 110 I needed to get me to my cheap digs prior to the Vintage Sports Car Club gathering the next day. Stuck at the side of the A17 but a pushable distance, in the dark, from a service area. Try to find the problem, and succeed, but it’s not a roadside fix. End up with tools, bits of Panther, and dirty oil all around.

Go inside, expecting the young Asian man behind the till to gently enquire, in some form, as to when I’m going to take my scruffy self and ridiculously stupid and immobile old bike away, anywhere, just off his forecourt. He smiles, offers me a drink and produces a large box of lovely sandwiches and rolls, insisting I take any amount for nothing.

I go back outside. Some Lithuanian guy looks at the bike, starts saying ‘$*£%&! Hell’ several times over. It transpires that they are the best-serving two words of the English he has picked up. He offers to buy me a coffee, I say no thanks, I’m fine. He pays for his petrol and comes out carrying a large cappuccino, two filled rolls and a cake which he insists on giving me. I thank him, take them, and turn my attentions hastily back to the Panther since neither of us will have a clue how to cope if he sees me starting to cry.

Breakdown man turns up and announces with lots of smiles, jumping around and genuine pleasure that the Panther is gorgeous. It’s not. When I brush-painted the mudguards the paint reacted and I couldn’t be bothered to strip it and start again.

The next day I strip down the clutch and find that two little ball bearings packing out the pushrod length had jammed up the pushrod, preventing it moving. I fix it for nowt and put the bike away until the next time, having also made a nice new gasket for the gearbox cover, which now no longer leaks.

So, can we get some of the old times back by getting a bike of a type we used to ride and work on in our youth? I’ll go for yes. Thanks to everyone who joined in this conversation. Wouldn’t it be dull if we all saw everything the same way? I love the way RC unites so many people with different experiences and outlooks.

Nigel’s account of the kindness of strangers echoes what happened with Frank last year when passing motorists kept him supplied with coffee and sandwiches during his 12 hour wait for the AA truck. There are still plenty of Good Samaritans out there, it seems.