TEENAGE MEMORIES
In the early 60's when petrol was 2/9d (14.5p) a gallon, a pint of beer cost 1/1d (5p), trainers were called plimsolls, motorbikes had more oil on the outside than the inside and names like BSA, Velocette, Matchless, AJS and Vincent were revered, there were places in the South of England that attracted the Motorbike fraternity. These were Brighton and Southend, which was complete with a 'Wall of Death'.
At the tender age of 16, I sat astride my first trusty steed, a 250cc BSA C15 which I promptly overcooked and seized on my first outing to Brighton. My Mum lost the plot but Dad said nothing and we rebuilt the bike together, he was a exceptional engineer and a wonderful gentle human being.
After that I stuck to my local territory until I passed my test and then bought a 500cc TriBSA , a T100Triumph engine in a A7 BSA frame. One Bank holiday Sunday morn, with dew still on our prefab roof and my gleaming stead beneath my legs, hissing, p***ing and spewing oil everywhere,
"Take Care" Mum said, "Don't do anything I wouldn't.
"I won't" I said and I disappeared into the early morning mist on my first hopefully uninterrupted trip to Brighton down the A23.
I stopped at the Black Cat café, a bikers cafe half way between London and Brighton. The array of bikes parked outside was like looking at a Pirelli calendar. There were big ones, small ones and ones with orange boxes on the side. The orange box used to double as a sidecar to allow you to drive an unlimited cc bike as a leaner. It was quite a sight seeing an Ariel Square 4 going down the road with someone stuffed in an orange box with JAFFA stencilled on the side in black lettering.
On entering the café I was greeted by a Minor bird who promptly told me to 'P*** off'. My face must have been a picture as all the people in the café laughed; and I laughed with them because some of them looked as mean as a cat with pepper dust on their nuts, and this included their ladies. After meeting some new friends and chewing the fat over a bacon sarni we threw our leg over our leather seats and thundered down the black stuff towards Brighton. Buy now the sun was splitting the skies and a good day in Brighton was in prospect.
We stopped at a place called Pease Pottage for a break. About 30 minutes later this horrible high pitched whine could be heard in the distance and the mood amongst the bikers appeared to change as they all became twitchy and excited. They all started picking up bricks, bottles and anything lying about. What a good bunch of people these are I thought, cleaning up the place before they leave.
The high pitched whine got louder and louder and everyone got more twitchy and excited. Someone shouted, 'Ready', and everyone lined up on the side of the road. All of a sudden the high pitched whine became deafening as a huge collection of Vespa and Lambretta scooters with more mirrors, lights and rabbit fur than you could shake a preverbial stick at appeared. At that point World War III commenced as bricks, bottles and the like were hurled with great precision towards the, what I now know as MODs. Yes you've guessed it I was caught up in the MODs/Rockers wars. Scooters were swerving, women were screaming and there was a sound of metal bashing as the missiles connected with their prey. It only took about a minute and it was all over, the road littered with debris. Amazingly no-one was unseated from their scooters and they disappeared into the distance.
I thought to myself, do I want to be a part of this. To scared to leave the group, I carried on, and about 30 minutes later we arrived at Brighton. The front at Brighton was packed, MODs at one end, Rockers at the other and it was obvious there was going to be a bit of a rumble. It was at this point I needed to make a decision. Call me a wimp if you like but I decided to haul arse, so I jumped on my trusty stead and the kickstart fell apart I decided to walk away from the ensuing mayhem and found myself in Hove where I slept on the beach, lulled into sleep by the gentle sound of the waves and the distant sound of Police car bells as they battled to keep order in Brighton.
The next day I made my way back to Brighton front were there was an eary silence, and picked my way through broken cars, bikes and scooters. The place was deserted and I feared for my bike, but there it was nestling amongst a dozen other bikes being guarded by a couple of broken bikers I had met the previous day at the black cat café. 'Alright Bruv' said one as he spat teeth from his mouth and his chick mopped blood from his brow. 'Bout time we p****d off' he said, not knowing my bike was knackered. After a bit of diagnosis it was obvious the clockwork spring in the kickstart was broken. Simple solution , tie up kickstart, bump start and we were all off back home. We parted company at Purley Aerodrome, and I went home with a suitable story prepared for my parents who had seen the weekends events on there new 12" television which took up half the living room. After a nice bath in our brand new tin bath in front of an open coal fire and a lovely Sunday roast dinner I settled down to listen to 'Journey into Space', (my favourite character being 'Lemmy') on the radio and then it was off to bed said Zebedee knowing that I would wake up in the morning to a lovely breakfast and bubble and squeak for dinner, after all it was Monday.
After that adventure I enjoyed many rides all around the South of England until I joined the Royal Navy as a Artificer Apprentice on the 6th May 1963. Transferred to Scotland on the 5th May 1964 and have lived in Scotland ever since.
Great memories Geoff!
I only had an Ariel Arrow in the 60s when I was a student but it served me well until Dad bought me a second hand Mini as Mum was a bit concerned about motorbikes, the mods and rockers scene seems to have passed me by, though I was aware of it happening.
Did you find out what caused the C15 to seize, just for me to try to prevent it happening to mine!?
I have the "Journey into space" programmes on my ipad, but always listen to them when they are on BBC radio 4 extra.
I don't know why but even knowing the stories well I find them very relaxing.
Jet Morgan can be very rude to Lemmy, which I find annoying!
Missed the worst of the Mods and Rockers era due to youth at the time. Funnily enough there was a small group of us at school that used to go out for rides - My C11G, one C10L, one Honda 90, one CB 160 brand new (!) one Lambretta and one Vespa. I was particularly envious of the scooters' reliability. My C11G never quite made it up Porlock Hill. Replaced it with an Enfield Crusader which was even more unreliable if you can imagine.
30+ years ago, I had an A7SS outfit and my friend had a C15. He spent more time pushing his bike or riding in my chair than actually riding (From memory, the C15 had the reg. AOO 966 or similar. Bad luck if you own it :D).
Bet you quickly realised that the whole Mods n Rockers thing totally passed Scotland by Geoff. Just as well as I had a B40, a Bantam, 150Li Lambretta and a Vespa sportique. I rode my bikes to work in the week and the scoots suited and booted with my girlfriend at the weekends. My mates on both sides would always tell me to make my fekkin mind up. All good fun eh? :D