THANKS, DAD
My dad had bikes when he was younger, and when he was courting my mother, who he met as a pen pal when he was in the RAF for national service (he was stationed with her brother). He rode to bike events with her younger sister’s boyfriend (later husband) and his friends. Dad came from Kent, and Mum lived at Shepperton in West Middlesex, but on the Surrey border, so Dad would stay at his RAF friend’s (and his sister’s) family home when on leave… Mum had no interest in bikes at all, but nevertheless, they fell in love.
They married, and once I came along, he got rid of his bike for an Austin 7 for practicality, which was followed by a succession of cars (he was in the motor trade as a coachbuilder so could ‘do up’ cheap cars for himself ).
When I was approaching sixteen, I bought a cheap Messerschmidt KR200 three wheeler to tidy up and put on the road, with Dad’s help and once I was of age. With the car nearing completion, I decided that enrolling on the local Sunday morning RAC/ACU training scheme might be useful for gaining road sense and experience (they had ‘school’ bikes) so off I pedalled on my pushbike to Walton-on-thames each weekend. Only the pedalling didn’t last for long, as I became hooked on bikes and found I had an aptitude for them.
Within a few weeks, I’d sold the unfinished KR200 to a guy who intended to graft a blown VW motor in place of the 200cc Sachs two-stroke, and with two back wheels instead of one, to campaign it in the relatively new (to the UK) sport of drag racing.
I, in turn, bought a ten year-old, but very tidy, Francis-barnett Falcon from an ad in the local newsagent’s window for the sum of £20 and was ‘on the road’ with my own machine to use at the RAC/ACU course and to ride the 8 miles to school in Feltham without having to pedal.
There was no pressure not to get onto two wheels, and as soon as I had a bike, Dad bought himself one too, though only a little C110D Honda 50 sport at first, but that was only the start. The Honda was soon joined by a scruffy, £25 Sunbeam S7, a bike which he’d always fancied owning, and which he soon resprayed and got looking tidy. I in the meantime had passed my test, sold the Fanny-b, and bought a 1955 G3LS Matchless for (again) £20 from Dennis Heath Motorcycles in Twickenham. He’d been asking £25, but as the clutch was stuck together, he dropped by a fiver, threw in a bag of corks to reline it, and delivered it in his pick-up. It was the start of a happy business relationship with Dennis as customer and parts vendor for all my bikes when I was younger (actually, not quite the start, as I’d bought parts for the Fanny-b from him, including a bag of corks to reline that bike’s clutch).
Dad acquired more bikes to restore and ride, and became ‘one of the crowd’, as did my kid brother when he was old enough (first on pillion, then at 16, on his own bikes), riding to rallies and other events including the TT every year from the early Seventies to early Nineties, with myself and my mates. Dad’s expertise with a spray gun, and his tin bashing and welding skills, made him very popular, and at one point, he had a nice little sideline with riders who’d bought the ‘new’ Jap bigger bikes for their performance and reliability, but didn’t like the tinsel styling and toyshop colours. A few CB750 and GT750S and their siblings had their excess chrome painted along with the rest of the tin and plastic in classier colours with nice coachlining instead of the garish stock finishes.
Dad’s workshop, and his skills, were also called on when a few of us got involved in sprinting… I’m sure his employer didn’t realise just how many sprint competitors he ‘sponsored’ with paint and other materials, not to mention the oxygen and acetylene, and welding and brazing rods.
Dad may now be long gone… his coffin was escorted by bikes… but his legacy lives on in many of those kids who, like myself, through his encouragement remained as motorcyclists for their whole lives.
Thanks, Dad… Chris Graham
Brilliant tale. Thanks, Chris. Frank W