The rolling chassis

The art of building scooters was just about within our grasp. Adding a sidecar took them into another universe, a dangerous one…

Kev’s garage was becoming the ideal workshop for all of us – double in size, a big drive and most importantly… situated in a long cul-de-sac, the ideal proving ground. The road was some 300 yards long, perfect for getting your Lambretta going by the standard 1980s method of bump-start starting. The garage was big too, and soon became a dumping ground for our ever-amassing collection of scooters, most of which didn’t run. The idea was to each get at least one of them going; that way we could attempt to enjoy the fruits of our labours before commencing on the next dozen or so which were now stockpiled towards the back. Kev had finally got his TV175 S2 mobile and to be honest it was turning out to be a reliable rally machine. To me, it was a bit agricultural looking, much bigger in size compared with my SX200; but it was a Lambretta, so that’s all that mattered to us.

It was during one of our annual stints of “shifting crap” from one place to another that we discovered something which had been totally forgotten about. Lurking at the back of the garage underneath an old tarpaulin was an ancient Bambini sidecar, the perfect accompaniment for the Series 2 when it first came out but by the mid-1980s scooter scene it was well past its sell-by date. Most were concerned about getting rid of bodywork, not adding to it, so where it was situated in the back of the garage was ideal. Kev had other plans though: “I’m thinking of bolting it to the Series 2 for a laugh,” and that’s what we did, laugh… at his ludicrous idea. Explaining that it would be ultra-unfashionable and no one else would even contemplate it was music to his ears, always wanting to be different from the crowd.

For now, it was just better to agree, and to be honest it was going to be fun just watching it happen. In unison, we dragged the outfit from the dark depths of the garage and with a flat tyre it was not easy liberating it into the open world. Once outside the inspection began, which was more like a post-mortem as there wasn’t much life left in it. It had a nice green glow of moss on its entire south side and judging by the fur on the seat, it had been the crib for several families of feral kittens to grow up in. The window had the usual Penzance triangle sticker still intact, which was more than could be said for the fabric roof which had been reduced to the size of a postage stamp thanks to decades of moth abuse. The fibreglass body was intact even if the crow’s feet cracks were now its entire length but otherwise it was a belter and in tip-top shape.

After a quick wash over, delousing and a new tyre, Kev declared it fit to fly. There were questions raised such as: “Is the chassis rotten?” and: “What about the fixings holding the fibreglass body on?” The answer came: “Nah, it will be fine” from Kev, as the process of attaching it to the Lambretta began in earnest. None of us had a clue how to do it. Thankfully, we managed to acquire an ancient motorcycle magazine with an article on ‘how to align your sidecar’. It read like an ancient artefact but… if that’s all there was to work with, then so be it.

The motorbike in the article was some huge British beast of a thing but surely the pictures and instruction could be translated to work on the Lambretta. There was point A this, line B that, planks of wood for alignment and god knows what. Also, something to do with the angle of the wheel and how the camber should be turned in slightly. After several hours and countless attempts, we favoured plan B, just bolt the Lambretta and sidecar together. Surely all this alignment crap was just fine-tuning to get perfect handling around corners and not that important.

With it all bolted together the grand voyage was only moments away, and on its first run, Kev decided to pilot it himself to get used to the handling without having a passenger, good idea. The engine fired up, he selected first gear and slowly trundled 50-odd yards up the road. A rather lengthy turnaround like that of an oil tanker, it was head down and full throttle ahead, the next few moments changing everything. As Kev picked up speed, the lack of aligning the sidecar became instantly apparent. The handlebars started shuddering violently from side to side, raising Kev out of his seat as he tried to cling on for dear life. Seemingly out of control, as he approached at a fast rate of knots he lost all direction of the steering. Firstly the whole combo mounted the kerb and went straight across the opposing neighbour’s front garden, collecting their border plants in the process, before being launched through the air… all three wheels off the ground. As it came crashing down, Kev somehow managed to stay on board, eventually coming to a halt. For the sidecar, it was too much and the impact sheared the fibreglass body from the steel chassis, sending it gambolling down the road and smashing it to bits in the process. In just 10 seconds the sidecar dream was over and if we were honest, thank god it was too!

…the whole combo mounted the kerb and went straight across the opposing neighbour’s front garden, collecting their border plants in the process, before being launched through the air… all three wheels off the ground.