How time flies. I turned seventeen in May 1975. Which meant a driving licence. More importantly, it meant a motorcycle. So it was, my father forked out £40 for a well-worn, twelve-year-old BSA C15 SS80. The bike had been used and abused. The current owner had been using it for off-road riding and had taken a hacksaw to the frame to remove such niceties as the pillion footrests. The engine was rough – it needed new main bearings – and a rebuild and restoration to some semblance of road going trim was in order. So, despite my desperation to get on the road, there followed several weeks pulling the thing apart and putting it back together before I could ride it. Even then, there followed a series of mishaps and breakdowns. A spark plug that popped out resulting on a long push home and a helicoil (and another pulling apart of the engine), the complete failure of the big-end bearings, the front headlamp falling out and… Don’t get me started about the kickstart cotter pin. Well, let’s just say that once I had passed my test, something else was in order.
A 1959 Ariel NH 350Red Hunter. If you want a British classic, you can do much worse than the post war mag-dyno pre-unit cooking singles from Matchless, AJS, BSA and in this case, Ariel. Okay, so it wasn’t the most pretty machine I’ve owned and it wasn’t exactly fast. It was, however, reliable. I travelled much of England on that bike and loved it. During the eighteen months or so that I owned it, I gradually restored it to original condition. Someone, somewhere was taking note as shortly after finishing the restoration, they helped themselves and it was gone from my life never to return.
I bought an Ariel Arrow to tide me over while sorting out the insurance claim on the Hunter. Like the BSA, this one had been badly abused and was, frankly, dreadful. Not a good example of the type, unfortunately. Also, the reason for purchase tended to colour my view, so I got rid of it as soon as I was able to buy a bike that I really wanted.
I decided that I wanted a new bike this time as I’d lost the taste for renovating old bikes. So I bought a Laverda 350. As I was working as a credit controller at the time, and not especially well paid, strictly speaking, I couldn’t really afford it. This bike caused me financial pain due to having stretch myself to buy it. A situation that was to last for years after I parted with it. But, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. It was light and agile. Sure, being a sleeved down 500 designed to meet Italian tax bands, it didn’t set the world alight, but by God, you could throw it around Welsh roads and come out the other side with a grin that wound’t fit inside a crash helmet. Never had I ridden a machine that was so much fun and I spent that summer taking my young French pen friend around the West Country and South Wales. Those memories will live with me forever. But… It was an Italian machine and this was the early eighties. Eventually, the quality control got the better of it. The poor case hardening on the buckets used to adjust the valves wore badly. Repeatedly replacing them didn’t work, they kept wearing. Eventually, it was time to get something more reliable.
A Yamaha XS650. Thus started a dalliance with Yamahas that was to last for twenty years. Again, it wasn’t what you would call an exciting machine and it didn’t handle like the Laverda, but it got me where I wanted to go and back again. Typical of a Japanese machine of the period, it was efficient and reliable. I travelled across Europe on this bike and enjoyed it so much that another Yamaha replaced it, the TR1. In between the two bikes – having sold the XS and waiting to get my hands on the TR1, I bought an Aermacchi Harley to get about on. Oh, Jesus, was it awful. I am trying to think of something positive to say about this pile of excrescence, but can’t. As soon as I could, I sold it to a friend of my sister’s, whereupon it was promptly stolen.
I kept the TR1 for twenty-four years. I rode it across Europe and it was the bridal carriage at my wedding. We finally parted ways when the move to France became imminent and the old bus was one thing too many. By then, it had been sitting in the garage unused for the best part of a decade, waiting for me to find the time and energy to restore it to its former glory. I sold it to man who did precisely that. During that time, I had a Suzuki X5 for commuting in Bristol and later a BMW R45, for much the same reason. The X5 was fun. Zipping past the traffic queues on the A30 Gloucester road during the rush hour made a tedious journey a pleasure. Likewise, the R45, which was an introduction to something that would last until the present day – a love affair with Bavarian twins.
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I sold the R45 and bought the first of the oil-cooled twins, an R1100RS. This was the bike that confined the TR1 to permanent exile in the back of the garage. It went well, handled well and generally demanded that I ride it. So, while I kept the TR1 when I sold the RS, I replaced one boxer for another – this time the R1100RT as this was more suited to my riding style and was more comfortable over long distances. If it wasn’t for the discomfort in my neck and shoulders after long hauls, I’d have stuck with the RS as this was the more spirited machine. I decided to keep the RT and buy a Honda Deauville for commuting to work in 1999. When my situation changed, I sold both the RT and the Deauville (although I bought another for CBT training some years later) in favour of another BMW – the R1150RT, which I kept for twelve years before changing that for the R1200RT LC. On a whim, my most recent acquisition was an R80R. I love the RT – it is a sophisticated modern machine that will cover huge distances effortlessly and has handling that belies its bulk. And yet, and yet, there is something deeply satisfying about hopping onto the R80 and taking it for a blast. It vibrates, it is noisy and it is fun.
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So, that’s forty years in précis. And it went by so fast. It seems barely a moment has gone by since I was longing to get out on the road on a bike and now I have a lifetime of riding behind me. Looking back, bar one, I have liked all of the machines I’ve owned. Each of them was of their time and I parted with them when that time was past. But there is one that I would love to spend an hour or so riding again.
Nice story. OMG I was doing my finals from May 19th to May 23rd in 1975.
I was in school!
I thought of you the other day – I was sitting here web browsing when I heard an unusual “put-put-put” sound. I looked out the window and saw a CBT group heading up the hill. One of the students was riding a small BSA single. A refreshing change from the Japanese machines which normally make up such processions, and a reminder of when they were a regular sight, rather than a serious enthusiasts mount. Back in the 70’s a good friend had a ratty old B40 which was used to muck about on the local common. The timing had habit of slipping, and when he tried to start it one day the bugger kicked back with a vengeance – leading to a bloody great gash up the side of his leg…
The C15 had the same arrangement. The screw holding the timing unit would wear. You could adjust it on the move if necessary…
Interesting trip down memory lane. The reference to Italian lightweights and their superb handling reminded me of the Benelli 250 2C that I bought new in about 1977. What a difference from the previous Honda CB175 motorised pogo stick. A combination of the bike’s fragile nature and me being a teenaged idiot meant that it wasn’t long before it was a bit of a wreck, but boy did it corner well. I recently spotted an identical one for sale in a classic bike mag for more than three times what I paid for mine new, inflation and all that. The bike that I stayed with the longest was a 250 MZ. It was the really ugly 1970s 250/1 with the later ETZ engine and 12V electrics, I commuted on it for years. More recently I had a Triumph Daytona 900. I would describe it as a slightly boring but comfortable sports tourer, rather heavy but you didn’t notice that once you were moving. After being diagnosed with diabetes and being told by the medical profession how important it now was that I stay fit, I reluctantly sold the Triumph and bought a Specialised Allez racing bike.
That little Benelli was a pretty little bike. I also had a hankering for the small Guzzi – the V50. My father bought one years later and loved it.
Aye, the V50 was a lovely bike with amazing handling. Its one fault was the ignition switch. If it had a few more horses I’d have kept it, so along came the Le Mans III which was possibly the most uncomfortable bike ever made, but what fun.
I think that accolade must go to the Ducati Darmah. Beautiful to look at, horrible to ride for any more than about half an hour.
What an odd coincidence – at 17 I moved up from my Honda SS50 to an SS80 in 1975! Mine was a 66 model, had to sell it the next year to stay in FE college and kicking myself that I didn’t buy another one while they were still ‘unfashionable’.
They were never the best of the BSA stable. The pre-unit singles were better, frankly.
Interesting list,LR. The only one of those I’ve ridden is the R45 -the clutch as I recall was an on-off switch!
Mine are C70, MZ 250 Supa 5, MZ 125, CX500, back to MZs for a spell with two ETZ250s and then a 251 which I deeply regret selling, CBR600, BMW K75, Royal Enfield 500 Bullet, Suzuki Bandit, then a Revere and a wee Honda Lead scooter, both of which I still have but the Revere has died a bit. The best of the lot was the TS250 Supa 5!
The clutch on my R45 was fine. It was the Aermacchi that had the killer clutch. That bike was hideous to ride.
Happy days, brings back memories of my own motorcycling days, late 60s and early 70s. A BSA C15 followed by a 500cc Matchless single, then a pre-unit BSA 650 twin and finally the dream bike of our gang a Triumph T120 Bonneville , unit of course. How we cursed Mr Lucas and electrics during those years.
The inventor of darkness.
My career started at 12 with an NSU quickly, two speed gearbox!, riding it up and down the back alley, must have driven the neighbours mad. from then progressed to D1 bantams and 200 Villiers powered James and FBs First proper bike was C11. All for the fields mind.
Road career started in 68 with a, don’t laugh, a Durkopp Diana, 200cc electric start, quick as you like but lethal on the road so that had to go. Part exchanged it for a brand new D14/4, £136 16s 6d, by January 69 I had written it off and broke my back in the process. 10 months off work. Upon returning to mobility I borrowed a D7 off a friend and passed my test, rode home, discarded the Bantam and took to the road on my unit bonne/wideline Triton I’d bought a few weeks earlier. Kept that for a couple of years and sold it for £300, it would be 10k now! Bought a T150 went like stink but only 24mpg sold that after a year or two for £340! how money amounts have changed.
Due to work and family commitments a long break followed.
I started again at 54 with an ST1100, still got it, wife loves it.
I have recently added a ’97 TL1000s, great fun to ride but the wife hates it, I don’t know whether that’s a good or bad thing.
Here is my list. I was 17 in ’74 but my first bike bought in ’72 as a field bike was a 125 D3 Bantam. Then in ’74 a 1971 CB250K3 Honda. At the time I worked in a bile shop and was offered a pre featherbed ES2 Norton for 25 quid. I sold them both and bought a genuine Dresda Triton with W/Line featherbed and a pre unit T110 engine with twin carb head. That did not last long as someone pulled out in front of me. Turned out he was drunk and after a year recovering I bought another Triton which blew up spectacularly o the way to box hill in ’76. An XS2 650 Yam followed which in one of the most stupid decisions I ever made I sold for a RE 700 Constellation. ’78 saw me picking up a proper chopper with Californian frame, forlks, the lot with a Triumph TR6 power. Swapped that in ’80 for a Moto Guzzi 750-S3. In ’81 I picked up a Dax Honda for 25 quid and a knackered 380 Suzuki for 75 quid as well as a Honda 90 in exchange for a 750/4 engine rebuild. ’84 saw the sale of the Guzzi and the purchase of a GS1OOOET a gift of a CB 360 T and the purchase of a GSX 250 and a smashed up Kawasaki H1C 500 triple. ’85 saw me gifted a CB 750/4 ( The one I had rebuilt ) for a Laverda 1000 rebuild and nothing much until ’90 when I flogged the very modified big Suze for a VF 1000 R Honda which I wrecked and ended up putting the motor into a VF 750 F. that went in’ 95 for an EXUP Yam 1000 which after nearly loosing my life on I bought a XL 500S Honda trailie and was so impressed I went for a XR600R Honda, the only new bike I have ever owned, that was stolen 8 months later. The insurance money paid for a KTM 620 EXC enduro bike to go with the 250 EXC I had picked up with a blown motor for 300 nicker. ’98 saw the gift of an old RS 250 Ssingle Honda and a FT 500 Ascot for 100 smackers. ’99 saw me sell the lot to buy a Honda RC 30 and ’00 saw a CBR 600 Iin the stable. I was given a tired Africa Twin which I sold on quickly and then in ’04 I bought the then new Kawasaki Z1000 and an extremely knackered T140 Bonneville for a project.. ’05 saw the sale of the Kaw and the purchase of a T150 Trident. ’06 saw the sale of the triple and the first build of the Bonnie project. By ’07 I had been living i France for a couple of years and saw the purchase of a TDM 850. In ’10 I bought a nice looking but needed a lot of work on ’76 Z900LTD Kawasaki, aquired a CD 200 Honda and then was given a nice ’80 twin cam 750 Honda in exchange for a lot of work on a GS1000 Suzuki. This list probably misses out a few, oh yes there was the 500 Husqvarna MotoX bike plus several lent/borrowed from the boss dispatch hacks over the years.
Helicoil inserts always remind me of a Royal oilfield Crusader I helped a mate rebuild. No matter what we did the crankcase leaked, but it was a fun project.
Ah the pre silicone RTV days, I remember them well. hermetite red, hermetite green, osotite, all near useless.
Oooh, and who remembers (who, over a certain age, can fail to remember) the “Summer of 1976.” Wow! What a time to be young that was. Hot, hot, hot – and then still more hot! Amazing to think that it was coming up for 40 years ago, and yet we still haven’t had a summer like it since.
I remember the summer of 76. That was the year the second Triton ate itself coming back from Boxhill! Loads of great memories from back then.