Introduction - why and how I ride motorbikes

Sometime in the mid seventies, aged 5, I caught the motorbike bug. No one knows why - Mum, Dad, brother, other rellies or me... Suddenly (according to Mum) I was motorbike daft - if one went past, I'd stop and stare. If one was parked up at a place we were visiting, I had to be physically dragged away from it. When we went walking, I'd quickly forage a suitable bit of stick, which became a pair of handlebars, and off I went, my lips rasping a creditable impression of the big banger scramblers of the day. Of course this was the hey day of motorcycles - lots of lovely Japanese fours, a good number of well used British machines, occasional Italian exotica, worthy Beemers and the odd eastern European desperation machine seemingly filled the roads between a vast array of incredibly dull (and largely brown) British made cars.

A mate acquired an old Suzuki TS50 for use round his parents back field. He offered pillion rides but refused to let us up front. It fell apart eventually but then he replaced it with a gem of a trials bike -  a Cotton no less, albeit with a mallaguti lump rather than the trad villiers offering. I actually got to ride this a couple of times before it got nicked. Of course my parents resisted all my attempts at persuading them to get me a similar thing. "Where will you ride it?" "who will maintain it?" " who will pay for it" were imponderable and un-answerable questions. 

Of course like all kids in those days I was knocking around on various bikes - old shonks that my Grandad had salvaged from the tip, then a Raleigh Grifter which quickly became a pretend motorbike. This was a British made pre-bmx and actually quite a good thing. The down side was a very heavy sturmey archer 3 speed gear adding to it's overall heavy weight. Most people bang on about Raleigh choppers as a cult bike back then but they were utter rubbish. Grifters were by far superior and far more fun. When the BMX thing happened my grifter was all I had but another bike revolution was about to happen.

In my late teens the first mountain bike appeared and I fell in love, starting out on an obsession that continues to this day. Thoughts also turned to getting a car license (mainly to carry the mountain bike around) and my interest in motorcycles waned somewhat, despite the ascendance of all those lovely early days sports bikes - GPZ, to GPX to ZXR. GSX to GSXR, FZ to FZR et-al going on around me.

Scroll forward a few years to uni. My room mate and to become long term friend Niall acquired a banana yellow Yamaha 'Passola' step-through moped for commuting purposes. At school, if you had turned up on such a thing, you'd have at least got a righteous slagging, or possibly even a doing. For us enlightened Uni students, it was an expression of alternate freedom away from Lothian busses or crabbit black cab drivers. I was cycling in and out of town to Uni and out every weekend with the cycling club. But the thought of powered two wheel transport started to re-awaken. It would compliment the bike rather than replace it as it would be nice to be able to head to college on something that didn't require pedaling, on those wet and windy days.

The first summer saw me back home and in gainful employment at Northumbrian Water, with a need for transport. Cue a Tomos moped, as available from Kays catalogue (about £300 new) for £100 from a local private sale. Not exactly the stuff of dreams but I was off on a journey that would shape my life. I didn't know it at this time of course and had persuaded my Parents that this would be it, motorbike-wise, and it would only be for commuting. Little did I know... A key moment:- walking up a narrow lane in Durham city a guy appeared at the bottom of the hill on a Guzzi. He gunned it up the hill leaving a trail of wailing car alarms and alarmed adult faces. One day, I too would do that.

Back at Uni that year and the Tomos was dragged up with me in a borrowed trailer. But now Niall had gotten a real bike - A Kawasaki KC100 2 stroke, with shades of those 70's killers, the KH's; and it would do 70. My tomos suddenly looked like what it was - a cheap and nasty, gutless death trap. I did once pass a youth on an AR50 but other road users just road over the top of you. My previous assertion to my long suffering parents that a moped wouldn't lead to stronger things (much like many drugs) was quietly forgotten. I needed something bigger and faster. Two Wheels, now large Honda and Triumph Dealer, used to have a place at the bottom of Dalkeith road. I wandered in one day and saw it -  a fine condition Honda CB100N with few miles and a mere £500. A deal was done for the tomos and off I went. It was slower than Nialls KC but went vroom instead of vring, and revved to 10000rpm! (And did 130 mpg.) The phone call to my parents when I told them what I'd done was a bit strained. It's always easier to ask forgiveness than permission...

They first saw it when they were up for a visit staying in a hotel in Livingston. I rode out to meet them, despite it being freezing and there being snow everywhere. I managed not to drop it despite riding round endless frozen slush covered roads in Livingston looking for the hotel. To be fair to Dad he was mightily impressed so that was OK. In fact I rode it home that Christmas and he had a shot, leading him to much thoughts of buying a bike himself!

This photo was taken a long time ago.....

That summer (1991) I did a particularly epic cycle tour which involved excessive distances, running out of money and far too much suffering. The worst day involved doing 95 miles into a headwind and burning sunshine on busy roads. That evening in Carlisle YHA I met a couple of Dutch lads on Tomos mopeds. They too were touring Scotland and Northern England and despite their machines restrictions to 30kph, (i.e 10kph less than mine had been) were doing big distances. Largely due to the pain and suffering I had just endured, it's fair to say this made me think - touring without pedaling, headwinds slow you down but don't burn you out. So it began. 

A photo taken after my last cycle tour for a very long time...

Soon after I passed my bike test. I was up against a dead line as they had introduced Compulsory Basic Training that year and if I didn't get my license that summer I'd have to do CBT. I'd already sailed through the part 1 test out at Livingston (no ice this time) so applied for the part 2 as soon as I got home. It was slightly stressful in that I hadn't bothered getting any lessons given that I'd been riding for a year and had my car license; and I nearly blew it:

"Where's the biggest hazard when turning left?" (Examiner)

"A car turning right into you" (Me)

Examiner looks askance. "What about from your left?"

I look askance. "Err? like what?"

"Cyclist, other motorbike, narrow car" 

I'm still looking confused - nothing is coming up your inside when you are turning left. Turns out I wasn't doing the 'lifesaver' look over your left shoulder which is a standard thing to teach, apparently. For the avoidance of doubt, the last place you want to be looking at when turning left is over your left shoulder. All your problems will come from in front. 

I figured that would be that - FAIL! But in fact he passed me, probably due to the confident way I'd hacked through Darlington rush hour traffic and screwed the bike up to 60 on the bypass.

The L plate was ceremonially ripped off and... no real change as I didn't fancy riding on motorways and at that point had no willing pillion passenger. 

Back in Edinburgh, the CB was mainly used for commuting and messing around the streets with Niall but this proved to be hugely entertaining. Other bikers waved at you, car drivers shook their fists at you and pedestrians scattered as you roared (hummed) down the street past them. I'd put a couple of quid in the thank, after a couple of days it would go onto reserve where it would stay for the next week or so before another couple of quid went in. 

Next up came a rat of a Suzuki 250 X7. Niall had originally acquired this and got it running fairly well. He'd even acquired another one for spares. Soon after he had fallen in with the Edinburgh Uni motorcycle club, a few of whom were running old British bikes on a budget, and inevitably ended up with one himself - a BSA 650 project - and needed the cash to do it up. The X7 was a total liability and the last thing I wanted at that point. I bought it anyway and passed the Honda to another uni pal who needed a commuter. 

Heh heh! This was the machine that heralded the death knell for learners riding 250's in the late '70's as it could do the ton. Unlike the contemporary RD's, it was super light so accelerated like a scalded cat. Of course the LC's were the final nail in the coffin for learner 250's but for the likes of us, such things were an easy way into speed. Over the next few years I did various things too it and thrashed it everywhere, to the accompaniment of the traditional two stroke howl out of the allspeeds. 

Tank paint seemed like a good idea at the time...

I also became a member of the EUMCC and soon enough we were regularly doing runs around Scotland's fab road network, mixed up with meet ups at the various biker pubs in Edinburgh, bike shows and rallies.

So when I was thinking getting a bigger bike, an old Brit seemed to be the way to go. This lead me into a world of pain and suffering but ended up being surprisingly successful in terms of miles ridden per hour spent in the shed (or in fact a series of lock ups around Edinburgh) It also avoided the inevitable descent into the 'bigger and faster' trap many motorcyclists fall (or run) into...

Authentic '60s cafe racer, i.e. a nail...

Over the subsequent years we rode all over Scotland, stayed in a variety of places, in a variety of weather. Being skint, we avoided official campsites and pubs, only starting to use these as we got older, wiser and richer. Machines came and went, runs became longer, we visited far flung places (Ireland, Western Isles, Northern Isles, Isle of Man) but all my youthfull dreams had come true. In fact, motorbikes were such a big part of my life that they weren't really a 'lifestyle,' they were my life.