Honda C50

The spark plug of the C50 was worn loose again. There were half a dozen of us, just kids aged between 13 and 15. What to do? Ideas buzzed between us and Araldite emerged by a process of natural selection - well, split six ways we could just about afford a tube. The only problem with Araldite was that you had to leave it overnight to set. We had plenty of time to look over the wreck - it had been given to us as a non-runner by some old OAP who got tired of us crowding into his garden shed to watch him building his Velocette single.

It was a refuge from his wife, who was as stout as a fully dressed Gold Wing and as shrill as an LC on open pipes. We were generally well behaved, somewhat awed by the brutal power of the Velo and only really got out of hand when we appropriated a flagon of his home brew - that was when he’d given us the Honda and told us to bugger off. He was later persecuted by the Social Services for child molesting, so perhaps we made a lucky escape.

The first time I ever rode anything not powered by my own legs was aboard that Honda C50. The auto clutch was somewhat jerky, as soon as first was engaged it’d leap forward or stall depending on how much throttle was applied. Second gear didn’t work so it had to be screwed in first and changed straight into third. Of course, the brake pads didn’t work and the oil hadn’t been changed in a decade. It was about 25 years old and had gone around the clock at least once.

We didn’t dare ride on the toad. For one thing we didn’t have helmets, so the police would’ve been onto us before we'd done a few yards. We used to push the bike about three miles, up and down several steep hills, to where a new motorway was being built. There was a long straight section that was finished but cordoned off from the rest of the road system. It was great fun to take turns to zoom up and down. We once had all six of us on the bike at one time.

When we were feeling really daring, we'd ride off the motorway up some country lanes, but this was dangerous as the brakes were pathetic probably metal on metal. The engine tended to seize after prolonged use or multiple simultaneous use, but it usually recovered after cooling down or being wheeled backwards.

Eventually the clutch went completely, but we bodged it so that it was on all the time you had to run along the bike, leap on and whack her into first gear, there was a sort of lurch and then she’d take off. It was quite easy to find neutral because second gear could be used for this purpose.

One day, the rusted rear end collapsed completely and we had to find a fiver for a used frame from a breaker - we were going to nick this but they had this huge dog that seemed to sense such inclinations, so we had to pay up. It took a weekend to strip one bike and bung it all on the other - we had to Araldite six or seven nuts on because the threads were stripped, but we eventually succeeded.

Unfortunately, the new frame must have been bent because the bike went to the right rather viciously. The new starting technique had to take this into account - too much throttle when you leapt on and the thing would twist the right and you’d fall off. But we were young and our bones supple then, so it was no great problem.

When one of our number reached sixteen, he got his provisional licence and we pretended it was a moped. We even gave it a coat paint and some new brake pads. We all took it in turn on the pillion - first the rider leapt on to get her going the the pillion had to leap on while the bike was doing about 55mph. One of our group had his marriage prospects serious hindered when he missed the seat and landed on the light; another suffered a similar fate when the bike did a wheelie and he was thrown off the back.

The engine eventually blew up in a big way, with holes the crankcase that were to large to fill with Araldite. We could have found a spare engine but everyone was starting to go their own way. Three of us had FS1Es in bits in in garages that we were trying to to build, whilst the others had rich enough parents to go the HP route.

We all found the C50 great fun and very educational - at least it kept us off the street and from turning into football hoodlums. That was a few years ago and were all still on the roads riding much bigger and more powerful machines; were it not for the enthusiasm found in playing with that little Honda then doubt if all of us would have pursued this great hobby of ours. It follows, doesn’t it, that all youths should be issued with battered step thrus to keep them from getting bored and wrecking city centres - with a little luck the real thugs will maim or kill themselves off before they harm others.

Chris William