Classic Bike Guide Magazine

THOUGH SCHOOL, ACADEMIA and conventional studying weren’t my forte, I was lucky-enough to grow up in the countryside where the emphasis seems to be on fixing, well, all kinds of stuff. My parents saw I was interested in this, so when their old car failed the MoT badly, they gave it to me, aged 11 . The proviso was that they would insure me when I was 17 ; and so began the long road of realising something was broken, how it was broken, how to fix it and then, once the first, second and often third attempt had failed, how to fix it successfully.

Hours of my life were spent in the shed. There was no Jedi master to help me, just a smattering of old tools, added to every birthday and Christmas. Terry, who ran an old L and Rover garage in a barn behind, was also really patient by putting up with a kid hanging around asking questions – all the time…

Gradually I learned about torque settings, how an engine worked, how to weld and, quite quickly, how to modify. This was before the internet brought us all instant answers remember. It helped that there was an old-school scrapyard down our lane, which I would walk around, looking at what might make my car better, faster or look cooler. It was a long road, but gradually my confidence and level of capability raised to ‘acceptable’ standards.

By the time I was 1 6 bikes had entered the workshop. These 50cc MTs, ZRs TS and CGs were smaller, easier to fix and – best of all – I could get on the road now! Two-strokes were new to me but seemed so simple, at least to fix. None were ever advertised, you heard so-and-so’s brother was selling something; a deal was struck and you had a new bike, usually knackered. Worn out big-bore kits, massively over-geared, knackered chains, bald tyres – we didn’t care; it was transport. And we could fix it. Normally...

THOUGH SCHOOL, ACADEMIA and conventional studying weren’t my forte, I was lucky-enough to grow up in the countryside where the emphasis seems to be on fixing, well, all kinds of stuff. My parents saw I was interested in this, so when their old car failed the MoT badly, they gave it to me, aged 11 . The proviso was that they would insure me when I was 17 ; and so began the long road of realising something was broken, how it was broken, how to fix it and then, once the first, second and often third attempt had failed, how to fix it successfully.

Hours of my life were spent in the shed. There was no Jedi master to help me, just a smattering of old tools, added to every birthday and Christmas. Terry, who ran an old L and Rover garage in a barn behind, was also really patient by putting up with a kid hanging around asking questions – all the time…

Gradually I learned about torque settings, how an engine worked, how to weld and, quite quickly, how to modify. This was before the internet brought us all instant answers remember. It helped that there was an old-school scrapyard down our lane, which I would walk around, looking at what might make my car better, faster or look cooler. It was a long road, but gradually my confidence and level of capability raised to ‘acceptable’ standards.

By the time I was 1 6 bikes had entered the workshop. These 50cc MTs, ZRs TS and CGs were smaller, easier to fix and – best of all – I could get on the road now! Two-strokes were new to me but seemed so simple, at least to fix. None were ever advertised, you heard so-and-so’s brother was selling something; a deal was struck and you had a new bike, usually knackered. Worn out big-bore kits, massively over-geared, knackered chains, bald tyres – we didn’t care; it was transport. And we could fix it. Normally...

THOUGH SCHOOL, ACADEMIA and conventional studying weren’t my forte, I was lucky-enough to grow up in the countryside where the emphasis seems to be on fixing, well, all kinds of stuff. My parents saw I was interested in this, so when their old car failed the MoT badly, they gave it to me, aged 11 . The proviso was that they would insure me when I was 17 ; and so began the long road of realising something was broken, how it was broken, how to fix it and then, once the first, second and often third attempt had failed, how to fix it successfully.

Hours of my life were spent in the shed. There was no Jedi master to help me, just a smattering of old tools, added to every birthday and Christmas. Terry, who ran an old L and Rover garage in a barn behind, was also really patient by putting up with a kid hanging around asking questions – all the time…

Gradually I learned about torque settings, how an engine worked, how to weld and, quite quickly, how to modify. This was before the internet brought us all instant answers remember. It helped that there was an old-school scrapyard down our lane, which I would walk around, looking at what might make my car better, faster or look cooler. It was a long road, but gradually my confidence and level of capability raised to ‘acceptable’ standards.

By the time I was 1 6 bikes had entered the workshop. These 50cc MTs, ZRs TS and CGs were smaller, easier to fix and – best of all – I could get on the road now! Two-strokes were new to me but seemed so simple, at least to fix. None were ever advertised, you heard so-and-so’s brother was selling something; a deal was struck and you had a new bike, usually knackered. Worn out big-bore kits, massively over-geared, knackered chains, bald tyres – we didn’t care; it was transport. And we could fix it. Normally...

THOUGH SCHOOL, ACADEMIA and conventional studying weren’t my forte, I was lucky-enough to grow up in the countryside where the emphasis seems to be on fixing, well, all kinds of stuff. My parents saw I was interested in this, so when their old car failed the MoT badly, they gave it to me, aged 11 . The proviso was that they would insure me when I was 17 ; and so began the long road of realising something was broken, how it was broken, how to fix it and then, once the first, second and often third attempt had failed, how to fix it successfully.

Hours of my life were spent in the shed. There was no Jedi master to help me, just a smattering of old tools, added to every birthday and Christmas. Terry, who ran an old L and Rover garage in a barn behind, was also really patient by putting up with a kid hanging around asking questions – all the time…

Gradually I learned about torque settings, how an engine worked, how to weld and, quite quickly, how to modify. This was before the internet brought us all instant answers remember. It helped that there was an old-school scrapyard down our lane, which I would walk around, looking at what might make my car better, faster or look cooler. It was a long road, but gradually my confidence and level of capability raised to ‘acceptable’ standards.

By the time I was 1 6 bikes had entered the workshop. These 50cc MTs, ZRs TS and CGs were smaller, easier to fix and – best of all – I could get on the road now! Two-strokes were new to me but seemed so simple, at least to fix. None were ever advertised, you heard so-and-so’s brother was selling something; a deal was struck and you had a new bike, usually knackered. Worn out big-bore kits, massively over-geared, knackered chains, bald tyres – we didn’t care; it was transport. And we could fix it. Normally...