How much fun can you have despatching in London, day after day, week after week, year after year? To hear some tell it, despatching for a living is sheer purgatory. Many give the game a try for a month or two, decide it’s not for them and abandon all hope. Things are not helped by a number of disreputable DR companies that only survive by ripping riders off left, right and centre. And yet, I have been despatching since I left school fifteen years ago and can think of no better way of earning a living.
Starting at eighteen was a good idea. My youth allowed me to shake off the various accidents that occurred. A less supple body would have ended with broken bones and massive trauma. Also, living then with my parents I was able to survive the low pay during the learning period. I had already worked weekends in a supermarket for a few years to get together the readies to buy a decent bike for my seventeenth birthday.
My mount was a pristine Honda CB250K4, then five years and 7000 miles old. By the time I went despatching its performance matched my ability. Its 350lbs was a bit heavy going for slinging through the worst of the traffic but I soon got the hang of it. It took three months to graduate to the full rate of pay; by then my knowledge of London streets had expanded phenomenally. I had seen places I never thought existed.
Mileage worked out at about a 1000 a week! That meant every weekend I had to change the oil, set the points, adjust the carbs, play with the valves, tighten loose bolts and clean off all the crud. Daily maintenance was limited to adjusting the chain and checking the engine oil level. As long as all that was done the Honda proved extremely reliable in the first year.
During the second year, with over 60000 miles on the clock, the little CB gave every indication of being worn out. Oil and fuel consumption became horrendous. A two stroke cloud of smoke hung over the bike. Starting needed seven, eight kicks, the electric foot having burnt itself out. It became very unpredictable and started costing me money because I dared not thrash the engine and it occasionally conked out. Appearance began to go to the dogs as well, with chrome and paint falling off, alloy going dull white.
I felt really sad about the fate of the Honda. It was, after all, my first motorcycle which I loved like none other. I had spent my last penny buying it and before going despatching had lovingly cleaned and polished it after each and every ride. It really was my pride and joy. To see it reduced to the terrible state of a rat after only a year’s worth of despatching was almost too much for me. I did not sell that bike but have over the years gradually restored it to its former glory. Even when later I had to sell my superbike I kept the Honda out of sentiments that my wife wholly fails to comprehend. But that’s motorcyclists for you!
In the middle of 1979 I bought my first and last new bike, a Honda CB250T Dream, the early version of the disgustingly successful Superdream. This chunky little soldier was quite fast to begin with but after 14000 miles (three months) engine problems began to emerge. By the time the spring of 1980 had arrived I had stripped the engine down four times... balancer chains, camchain tensioners, the three valve heads, pistons; you name it and it went wrong.
A combination of several layers of clothes, a full fairing and strong constitution allowed me to ride right through the winters but | swear that the vicious little Honda deliberately failed miles from nowhere just to see if I would die from exposure. I had actually volunteered to do a long distance run up to Birmingham in January and the bloody bike lost all power half way up a nearly deserted motorway. By the time the AA turned up I was all but comatose from the cold.
The Honda was replaced with a low mileage GS400 twin, a lovely bike that proved to have an incredibly tough engine that lasted for nearly two years and 95000 miles without being stripped down. Amazing. Mind you, the chassis was so dead and remote that in bad weather it was very difficult to avoid falling off. I had more accidents on that bike than I'd care to admit but none so serious that they stopped me delivering the damn parcels.
I have stayed with the same DR firm for all that time, although the company has gone through a couple of name changes and a few bosses. This has paid off because even in the worst of the recent recession I have been given the best of what jobs were available - you have to find a good firm to start with, of course. The most I’ve earned in a week was £875, the least £125, the average somewhere in the £400 to £550 range. A just about acceptable wage for the level of risk involved.
1982 to 1988 I went through a series of 250 and 400 Superdreams, despite my earlier experience with the breed. They were an ideal size for chucking through traffic, reliable up to about 35000 miles and available cheaply in great abundance. I must have had about six machines in all, although I quite often did an engine swap two or three times until the chassis was only fit for scrap. I developed a strong love/hate relationship with these machines that only ended when I was seduced by a newish Suzuki GS450E at the end of 1988.
I was a bit wary of taking this immaculate machine into the chaos of London roads. Old, rat Superdreams could be thrown about in a thoroughly carefree manner. They were quite tough, liable to do more damage to the autos than themselves and any serious damage could be fixed with the pile of surplus bits that were cluttering up my living room cum workshop. I need not have been too concerned, the 450 was a much better handler than the old GS400; indeed, it was much superior to the horrible old Honda twins to which I had become accustomed.
After so long riding on London roads I have developed a sixth sense about what cagers are going to do... I seem to know that the jerk in the Sierra is about to cut across three lanes of traffic before he does. I now fall off about two or three times a year, usually down to the treacherous road surfaces. In deference to my ageing body, which gets enough abuse from an excessive indulgence in alcohol, I have taken to wearing body armour in addition to full leathers and waterproofs. This both disguises my large pot belly and gives me shoulders like a Welsh prop-forward, as well as preventing serious crash damage.
After about six months on the GS, I cleared out all the Superdream bits and started buying crashed GS450s. I find a GS engine will do 40-50000 miles before ruining its pistons and top end. They are nice bikes, dead easy to ride when you've done ten hours in the saddle; just as at home on a motorway thrash as in trawling through the City. They don’t seem to suffer from the dreaded electrical malaise, which is something to be thankful for.
I am still running these bikes to this day, I have not got all that much choice with the current economic climate. As well as my DR machine I used to have a personal bike for weekend work, the best by far was a GPz900OR, but that had to go last year to bring in some much needed readies. It says a lot for the versatility of the GS450 that it provides adequate weekend fun and, I suppose, a lot for my own love of motorcycling that I still want to ride a bike after a week’s hard graft on the damn things.
I know many DRs who have stuck the game for over ten years and would not want to work at anything else. The weather can be awful, the traffic (especially of late) can be homicidal and the roads can be treacherous but getting paid for riding motorcycles is still a hell of a lot better than doing some boring, repetitious, menial job in an office. It's probably not for everyone, but I recommend that if you do give it a try you keep at it for at least a year to see if you can adapt to the life.
Mike The Bike