Some people stay on bikes all their life and some people return after a break, called born again bikers. I have just gone one better and returned to biking for the second time, a born again, born again biker.
I started at 16 with a moped, not with an FS1E or an APS50, these were not acceptable. I wanted something mean and moody, something to strike fear into the heart of other ‘ped riders. I bought a BSA Beaver! For those not in the know, this was an Italian engined ‘British’ bike.
People laughed at me! There were three reasons for this. The name of the bike. The fact that, amazingly, it had no ignition lock had friends starting it up and riding round and round in circles with the steering lock on. And at 6' 4” I looked pretty silly on such a small machine.
It might not have been mean but it was moody. It would never start hot and spent four of the first nine months of ownership at the dealers or the factory! I don’t want to question the mechanical competence of those involved but one day when I was desperately trying to start the thing after stopping, a bike pulled up. The rider was able to diagnose that the plug was the wrong grade. Once replaced I had no more problems!
When I was seventeen, the world of 250cc bikes opened up, which at the time was huge. What would I pick? X7’s were the sports bike to have, Superdreams were physically the biggest bike (important at my height). Then there were RDs, XSs, KHs. Which one?
The choice was obvious. My last bike had been crap, broke down and the dealer back-up was poor. Therefore I bought another BSA, this time a Tracker 175. This was a lot better. DT engine, nice and tall, it even started when I wanted it to. It also stood out from the thousands of DTs roaming the streets at the time.
The main problem was an amazingly small fuel tank, 1.2 gallons giving a range to reserve of around 50 miles. On a camping trip to watch the racing at Oliver’s Mount I set off from Hartlepool and was on reserve before reaching Whitby. This meant I was always playing catch up to the others who naturally refused to wait for me and was the cause of my first crash.
Heading towards the campsite in darkness the powerful six volt electrics lit the road rather less well than a candle. The red light I was following in the distance disappeared. I wondered why, for a moment, until the road and I had a disagreement. I thought the best way to the campsite was straight ahead, the road thought a sharp left-hander was best. The road won and I went straight into a hedge. Luckily, the only damage being a broken instrument cluster.
A year of off-road abuse took its toll on the Tracker before another crash killed it off. Riding home from work was cut short by a car pulling out on me. It seemed like one of those slow motion sequences in the movies. Once I realised I was going to crash and could do nothing about it, it seemed ages before we collided, straight over the top, landing on the other side.
The woman driver was 70 years old. All she kept saying was, ‘I drove in the war and never crashed.’ Which war, I wondered. Someone covered my head with a jacket - don't ask me how that was supposed to help a broken leg; the policewoman who arrived at the scene thought I was dead!
The final bike of my youth was a 400 Superdream. Superbiking, for me! It had a gold frame and wheels, black bikini fairing and looked the biz (for a Superdream). The best bit was a Micron exhaust with minimal baffling. Sounded brilliant! Especially if the throttle was shut off, when the thing would backfire like mad, driving nearby pedestrians crazy. After a year it was pinched and I was broke. That was the end - for a while.
It happened one hot day in June 1990. I was driving an MG Maestro, no slouch of a car with 0-60 in eight seconds. I got burnt by a bike, thought time to buy one! I decided to take a logical approach. Sat down at work with another ex-biker and evaluated what I needed. We decided on a middleweight for insurance purposes and running costs, shaft drive for ease of maintenance. The local paper had an advert for a CX650 in a dealer's in Newcastle. £1800. I took the day off.
I got to the dealers, asked for a test ride. Granted but where was my licence? I drove back to Hartlepool (about 20 miles) and returned. I really enjoyed the ride but then after six years off the saddle a C90 would have done the same. I asked for 10% off for cash. No go, not even if I agreed to buy my helmet and gloves at the shop.
On the way home, I called into a local dealer. There was a 350 YPVS Yamaha for £1200. One test ride later I was hooked, sod the shaft drive - CX650’s don't wheelie. The bike brought out my anti-social side. Up in the morning, masses of noise and smoke drifting over to next door’s garden as it warmed up whilst I ate breakfast (they built a high fence not long after).
I played rugby with a guy who had a Sierra 4x4, and thought it was quick. A sprint through the local industrial estate was duly thrown his way. We lined up after training one night and the bugger set off as soon as I started the Elsie. The first half of the race was neck and neck as the bike hadn't warmed up, and he must have thought what was all the fuss about. Then the motor kicked in and I left him for dead. He could not believe his car could be destroyed by this little bike, put in for his test soon after and now rides a GSXR750.
The bike's demise was my fault. Travelling to a match one day, I pulled alongside one of the cars. I counted down on my fingers before intending to blast off. Three... two... one... cog down and blast off. That was the plan, somehow I went down two or three gears in one tap. At once the engine screamed in protest and was not helped in its fight for survival by me pushing the gear level down again in shock. The engine exploded in a big way and as I was at this time unemployed again, the bike was flogged off to a breaker for peanuts.
I was determined to ride again one day but had just enrolled on a two year teacher training course so had to keep my dreams on hold for a while. I graduated and got a job but bought a house with my girlfriend so again was skint. Unfortunately, my father died in November, leaving me some money which I decided to invest wisely... by buying a new bike.
Just as before we decided to look at what type of bike we were going to buy. I say we, as Karen, my girlfriend, is not one who doesn't want an input in such matters. Her experience on bikes was being frightened to death by a loony on a 125 when she was sixteen, when she'd been thrown off the back. Not one to repeat the experience, and not understanding bikes very much, she wanted me to get a Virago or a Vulcan - they looked nice and have a backrest.
I always liked the looks of TDMs and Thunderbirds so we decided to ride the bikes two-up and see which we liked. I was amazed at how hard it was to get a test ride on used bikes. Eventually, I was allowed out on a one year old Virago. Roundabouts seemed no problem although I wasn’t going fast and throttle response from low revs was fun, especially after a Powervalve, although it ran out of steam a bit early. I enjoyed bopping around on the bike and thought I'd go for a 1100...
Then a demo TDM. The problem was that the seat forced the passenger into you when braking. Apart from that, it was a good ride although the engine felt a bit rough - never having ridden a big twin, this may be normal.
Talking to the salesman afterwards, I pointed to a new CB750 I and commented that when I was a teenager it was the sort of bike I aspired to. I liked the looks of early eighties fours and have never been fussed on race replicas. He told me a used one was coming in on Monday and I could give it a go.
The bike had a twin headlamp fairing and luggage set, the top box having a built-in backrest! We set off, I was amazed at the smoothness of the bike - my first ride on a four! Loved the throttle response from low revs and Karen loved the backrest. A deal was made!
I| am always being stopped by people of all ages commenting on the bike’s looks/colour, or the I used to have a so-so brigade. The acceleration’s great solo, although it can be a bit laboured two up with a total mass of 28 stone on board who can blame it? Karen’s almost as obsessed as me, now! Every time we go out, it’s can we go on the bike? Any excuse!
We are getting married next year and plan to tour Europe on our honeymoon. The CB might not set the world alight but it’s fast enough for me, has fine acceleration, looks great and is versatile. My only gripe’s the exhaust noise, which is crap. All I need now is a nice four into one.
David Mason