Bikes You Have Owned and Loved
Posted: 18 Jan 2016, 23:08
I have started this new thread so folk can add the bikes they have owned and loved.
Before I add my first bike I will give a little background information.
From about 14 years of age I shared a garage on the Wellhouse Mill site with a few mates who were also interested in bikes, these were in the main the same lads I had grown up with. It was owned by one of the other lads granddad who had no further use for it as he had given up his car. We used it as both a hang out and place where we could collect any bits of motorbikes that we could come across or were going spare. There were three older guys who had a garage on the Skipton Road side of the mill, I think they would be in their mid thirties or early forties although to us they seemed really old. They used their patch to maintain and do up some of the older classic British bikes.
Some of the bits we managed to collect came from one of the lads who had farming contacts. Scouring various barns around the area produced a James frame and half a Villiers or Frannie Barnett engine from one and an old rusty non running Bantam from another. The owners were glad to see the back of this stuff which was eagerly shifted and pushed or carried as required down to Wellhouse. We oyned the older guys as well and they in turn tipped up various bits and were always willing to offer a bit of advice when we ran into problems. Weeks of tinkering and we managed to get the Bantam up and running. The garage site at the mill was an ideal off road practice ground and all the lads in our group used this to learn the basics of motorbike handling (and falling off from time to time). We had a lot of fun anyway and looked forward to when we could legally get on the road.
I left school aged 16 after my GCE's and got a job down in Earby with a local TV Rental firm. I started my apprenticeship which was 5 years City and Guilds done on a day release scheme to Burnley College. It was actually all day Tuesday 9am to 9pm and an additional session 6pm - 9pm on Thursdays. When I started work I used the bus daily to Earby and back 6 days a week (we worked Saturdays) and also over to College in Burnley twice a week. After the first few months it became a real hassle on the bus and the fares were bleeding my £7.00 a week apprentice wage dry. The Bantam wasn't road legal so was not an option to get me out of my situation. it was a joint venture between our garage group anyway so not mine to use exclusively.
I heard of a lad in Barlick who was selling a bike it was a non runner. He was only asking £40.00 for it so I went down to have a look. I liked what I saw but didn't have £40.00 so I tapped my dad for a sub and left it to him to square it with mum. Saturday came round and I became the proud owner of EEO 118 a 1958 Royal Enfield 250 Crusader. Dead in the water but pushable down to the garage, the bike had been running but had packed up and had not been bothered with as the seller had moved on to four wheels, it still had three months on the tax disk. I spent a week tinkering and sorted it with a new coil and a new set of points, a bit of tweaking and we were ready to go. The bike was 12 years old when I got it and had 30k on the clock with three previous owners. A further appeal to dad now that it was up and running and another sub got me 3rd party fire and theft and a pair of L plates.
Royal Enfield - Wiki
Images of Crusaders
It was a different world and I had a bob or two to spare to boot. Independent transport, a single tank each week would sort the runs to work and college. The bike was built like the proverbial brick sh....... compared to the Bantam. A solid frame and a single cylinder 250 four stroke to shove it along. The brakes were nothing to shout about and you had to think ahead somewhat and hope you didn't need to do an emergency stop! Nothing wrong with them, just inefficient drum units on front and back. The bike had a lovely fully chromed tank but a small downer was the non standard rigid kick start. You could stand up on the compression and if it didn't catch and decided to kick back it could, and did hurt, I took the skin off my ankle a few times with that until I could afford a proper pair of calf length motor bike boots.
I wasn't wearing these when I managed to bounce myself and the bike down the newly resurfaced top road from Carleton to Colne one night. I was looking over my shoulder for my mate and let the front wheel drift into the loose chippings at the side of the camber. The rest of the road had hardened off, the 20 signs had gone so I was doing the best part of 60 on the straight from the cattle grid up towards the repeater station when I lost it. I thankfully left the bike as it was rather a solid lump, not before it had wedged my right foot between the rigid kick start and the road as it went down. I remember flying forwards through the air in slow motion, I could hear the wind whistling in my ears until I hit the road on my hands and knees followed by my face. It knocked the wind out of me but I could still hear myself grinding down the road but saw nothing. My visor shattered and some bits ended up embedded in my face, both knees were shaved to the bone, foot stamped on by 200k of bike and the right hand palm of my leather gloves was worn through with a good proportion of the road embedded in my palm. My mate said later that I slid about 30 feet. I rolled over in the road onto my back as I regained consciousness and wondered why I hurt so much. My mate was by my side and helped me to the side of the road, he propped me up sat against the dry stone wall, lit me a fag and shoved it in the side of my mouth while he got my bike out of the road. I was reviewing my situation so to speak as the various pains started to kick in. Helmet did well my head was still intact but my knees were a mess and had started to sting like hell. I picked the stones out of my right hand the best I could and wished that I had been wearing my bike boots rather than the baseball bumpers I had chosen. I had another fag to take the perspex out of my face.
No one came past, it was a summers evening and no one came past. No mobiles and no phone box, the only way to get home was to ride home. My mate Rob put the bike on its centre stand and managed to get it started. I had no chance of starting it myself. The only broken bit on the bike was the front brake lever, no bother I couldn't operate it anyway. I had one good foot which was OK for the brake but my other one was no good for the gears. I could operate the clutch, so with half of me working I reckoned I could make it home. Rob shoved it off the stand for me and held it while I got on. I grabbed the clutch and he shoved it into 2nd. I wound the throttle up the best I could and slipped the clutch out, I got my feet up onto the pegs and set off. I managed to get all the way home in 2nd gear with careful use of the clutch and back brake. My mum went mad when she saw the state of me and said I was to get rid of the bike before it killed me. I was lucky I hadn't broken anything. I cleaned up my knees and bandaged them up for a day or two. Savlon on the palm and the side of my foot which was badly bruised and grazed from the sole to above the ankle. I limped for a week or two, returned temporarily to the bus to get to work while I mended up and mum cooled down.
A couple of weeks later I had replaced the front brake lever and normal service was resumed on the work and college run. I had joined the DDMCC, Denholme and District Motorcycle Club along with the rest of the Barlick lads who had migrated to bikes. I was extending the use of the bike to a bit of social use on runs over to the club at Keighley and odd runs out at the weekend.
The bike did well for a while but then blew the head gasket. I could only get composite gaskets at Charlie Schofields in Colne, I had to travel to Westerby's at Bradford to get the proper Enfield copper ones. As time went on it became more of a problem and blowing the gasket became a much too regular occurrence, so regular that I took to having a can of oil on the carrier. Mum wasn't too happy with my oil slicked jeans either when I put them in the wash. I was rapidly turning into a proper greasy biker. I took myself and the bike down to the older gurus at the other side of the mill and the consensus there was that the head was warped and needed skimming. I had some spare cash but not enough to fund this. I was ready to take my test but now had a broken bike that I couldn't afford to fix fully and even if I did, at best it would not stand a cat in hell's chance on the emergency stop at the test! I was between a rock and a hard place and needed another plan and that was a better, more reliable bike.
to be continued.....
Before I add my first bike I will give a little background information.
From about 14 years of age I shared a garage on the Wellhouse Mill site with a few mates who were also interested in bikes, these were in the main the same lads I had grown up with. It was owned by one of the other lads granddad who had no further use for it as he had given up his car. We used it as both a hang out and place where we could collect any bits of motorbikes that we could come across or were going spare. There were three older guys who had a garage on the Skipton Road side of the mill, I think they would be in their mid thirties or early forties although to us they seemed really old. They used their patch to maintain and do up some of the older classic British bikes.
Some of the bits we managed to collect came from one of the lads who had farming contacts. Scouring various barns around the area produced a James frame and half a Villiers or Frannie Barnett engine from one and an old rusty non running Bantam from another. The owners were glad to see the back of this stuff which was eagerly shifted and pushed or carried as required down to Wellhouse. We oyned the older guys as well and they in turn tipped up various bits and were always willing to offer a bit of advice when we ran into problems. Weeks of tinkering and we managed to get the Bantam up and running. The garage site at the mill was an ideal off road practice ground and all the lads in our group used this to learn the basics of motorbike handling (and falling off from time to time). We had a lot of fun anyway and looked forward to when we could legally get on the road.
I left school aged 16 after my GCE's and got a job down in Earby with a local TV Rental firm. I started my apprenticeship which was 5 years City and Guilds done on a day release scheme to Burnley College. It was actually all day Tuesday 9am to 9pm and an additional session 6pm - 9pm on Thursdays. When I started work I used the bus daily to Earby and back 6 days a week (we worked Saturdays) and also over to College in Burnley twice a week. After the first few months it became a real hassle on the bus and the fares were bleeding my £7.00 a week apprentice wage dry. The Bantam wasn't road legal so was not an option to get me out of my situation. it was a joint venture between our garage group anyway so not mine to use exclusively.
I heard of a lad in Barlick who was selling a bike it was a non runner. He was only asking £40.00 for it so I went down to have a look. I liked what I saw but didn't have £40.00 so I tapped my dad for a sub and left it to him to square it with mum. Saturday came round and I became the proud owner of EEO 118 a 1958 Royal Enfield 250 Crusader. Dead in the water but pushable down to the garage, the bike had been running but had packed up and had not been bothered with as the seller had moved on to four wheels, it still had three months on the tax disk. I spent a week tinkering and sorted it with a new coil and a new set of points, a bit of tweaking and we were ready to go. The bike was 12 years old when I got it and had 30k on the clock with three previous owners. A further appeal to dad now that it was up and running and another sub got me 3rd party fire and theft and a pair of L plates.
Royal Enfield - Wiki
Images of Crusaders
It was a different world and I had a bob or two to spare to boot. Independent transport, a single tank each week would sort the runs to work and college. The bike was built like the proverbial brick sh....... compared to the Bantam. A solid frame and a single cylinder 250 four stroke to shove it along. The brakes were nothing to shout about and you had to think ahead somewhat and hope you didn't need to do an emergency stop! Nothing wrong with them, just inefficient drum units on front and back. The bike had a lovely fully chromed tank but a small downer was the non standard rigid kick start. You could stand up on the compression and if it didn't catch and decided to kick back it could, and did hurt, I took the skin off my ankle a few times with that until I could afford a proper pair of calf length motor bike boots.
I wasn't wearing these when I managed to bounce myself and the bike down the newly resurfaced top road from Carleton to Colne one night. I was looking over my shoulder for my mate and let the front wheel drift into the loose chippings at the side of the camber. The rest of the road had hardened off, the 20 signs had gone so I was doing the best part of 60 on the straight from the cattle grid up towards the repeater station when I lost it. I thankfully left the bike as it was rather a solid lump, not before it had wedged my right foot between the rigid kick start and the road as it went down. I remember flying forwards through the air in slow motion, I could hear the wind whistling in my ears until I hit the road on my hands and knees followed by my face. It knocked the wind out of me but I could still hear myself grinding down the road but saw nothing. My visor shattered and some bits ended up embedded in my face, both knees were shaved to the bone, foot stamped on by 200k of bike and the right hand palm of my leather gloves was worn through with a good proportion of the road embedded in my palm. My mate said later that I slid about 30 feet. I rolled over in the road onto my back as I regained consciousness and wondered why I hurt so much. My mate was by my side and helped me to the side of the road, he propped me up sat against the dry stone wall, lit me a fag and shoved it in the side of my mouth while he got my bike out of the road. I was reviewing my situation so to speak as the various pains started to kick in. Helmet did well my head was still intact but my knees were a mess and had started to sting like hell. I picked the stones out of my right hand the best I could and wished that I had been wearing my bike boots rather than the baseball bumpers I had chosen. I had another fag to take the perspex out of my face.
No one came past, it was a summers evening and no one came past. No mobiles and no phone box, the only way to get home was to ride home. My mate Rob put the bike on its centre stand and managed to get it started. I had no chance of starting it myself. The only broken bit on the bike was the front brake lever, no bother I couldn't operate it anyway. I had one good foot which was OK for the brake but my other one was no good for the gears. I could operate the clutch, so with half of me working I reckoned I could make it home. Rob shoved it off the stand for me and held it while I got on. I grabbed the clutch and he shoved it into 2nd. I wound the throttle up the best I could and slipped the clutch out, I got my feet up onto the pegs and set off. I managed to get all the way home in 2nd gear with careful use of the clutch and back brake. My mum went mad when she saw the state of me and said I was to get rid of the bike before it killed me. I was lucky I hadn't broken anything. I cleaned up my knees and bandaged them up for a day or two. Savlon on the palm and the side of my foot which was badly bruised and grazed from the sole to above the ankle. I limped for a week or two, returned temporarily to the bus to get to work while I mended up and mum cooled down.
A couple of weeks later I had replaced the front brake lever and normal service was resumed on the work and college run. I had joined the DDMCC, Denholme and District Motorcycle Club along with the rest of the Barlick lads who had migrated to bikes. I was extending the use of the bike to a bit of social use on runs over to the club at Keighley and odd runs out at the weekend.
The bike did well for a while but then blew the head gasket. I could only get composite gaskets at Charlie Schofields in Colne, I had to travel to Westerby's at Bradford to get the proper Enfield copper ones. As time went on it became more of a problem and blowing the gasket became a much too regular occurrence, so regular that I took to having a can of oil on the carrier. Mum wasn't too happy with my oil slicked jeans either when I put them in the wash. I was rapidly turning into a proper greasy biker. I took myself and the bike down to the older gurus at the other side of the mill and the consensus there was that the head was warped and needed skimming. I had some spare cash but not enough to fund this. I was ready to take my test but now had a broken bike that I couldn't afford to fix fully and even if I did, at best it would not stand a cat in hell's chance on the emergency stop at the test! I was between a rock and a hard place and needed another plan and that was a better, more reliable bike.
to be continued.....