Nostalgia ain't what it used to be....

I had a bit of a treat on the ride to work this morning – pulling up at some lights I notice in front of me an old BSA Bantam, chugging away ready for the off. It is always very interesting to look over (and, given its size, down) at what is one of the forerunners of modern-day bikes. Sadly, I didn’t get the opportunity to speak to the rider but I would imagine that this was an early-mid 1950s bike, probably a 125cc or possibly the 175cc version, and although it wasn’t in 100% pristine condition it certainly wasn’t in bad nick and sounded remarkably perky for its age.

And it has history. This was a bike that helped change the landscape in post-war working-class Britain. Originally costing a fraction more than £80, workers could buy a Bantam in a few months and then had the blessing of mobility. No longer did they have to live in sight of their workplaces or rely on buses or trams. The Bantam opened up the world for a lot of people.

Seeing a bike like that, it is impossible not to compare it with the slicker machines of today. I was alongside it on a 2009 Z1000, there was a BMW K1200 there, as well as an R6 – all with the benefit of years of technological advancement since the days when the Bantam was leading the way. Personally, I love to see old machines like that on the road. Years ago, I worked in sales in a bike showroom and the boss was a collector of old bikes – and it was always a treat for me that he kept a fully working Velocette K from 1926 on display in the shop (he had several more at home).

Ok, in the Bantam’s case it wouldn’t necessarily be a particularly comfortable ride compared with today’s bikes – the shocks looked like bedsprings and the rear tyre looked like it had been taken from a kids’ bicycle - but it was zippy enough and in traffic kept up with the pace well. And I love the fact that someone has taken the time and effort to keep a near 60-year old bike on the road, rather than it sitting in bits or gathering dust in a shed somewhere.

But that wasn’t the end of my trip down yesteryear. Seeing a Bantam was nice enough but further down the road I happened across two lovely old cars – an E-type and a Mk2 Jaguar. Again, one immediately makes the comparison with the charmless monstrosities that pass as cars these days. Years ago, cars had character and many of the good ones were British – the E-type and Mk2 Jags being perfect examples. Others might be the old MGB Roadster (one of my favourites – especially in British Racing Green - below), the Mk 1 and Mk 2 Rovers, Triumph’s Stag, the Jensen Interceptor, even the Mini Cooper and Ford Capri…. Yet nowadays the roads are flooded with nondescript box cars and bloody people carriers (the bane of my life and always driven by morons).

So, like I say, this morning’s commute was a real treat.…

Biker rivalries

Those of us who favour two-wheeled transport are well used to the factionalism that comes with it. Probably the best documented “rivalry”, and the one that everyone would point to as evidence of the unsavoury nature of bikes, scooters and the people who ride them was between the original Mods and Rockers. Naturally, this all unfolded well before my time but looking back, what happened then still seems to prejudice views towards those of us that ride bikes and scooters nowadays.

Personally, I don’t believe the hype. I prefer to think that both groups actually rubbed along pretty well most of the time and that it was the media at the time that sensationalised and encouraged hostility between the two factions – just as they would with the world of football hooliganism years later. After all, these were working class movements and, although there might be fashion and generational differences (younger/older brother etc), those following these trends would co-exist on the same council estates, in the same schools and in the same workplaces. But happy to hear otherwise.

I grew up in the years around punk and the second wave of mod culture in the late 70s and while I took the route towards the new wave of heavy metal and bikes, I retain respect for the Mod movement (despite them being a bunch of over-dressed pansies). Like us, they had a clear identity, like us, they had a road and group presence (and rallies), like us they were followers of distinctive music. But both groups retained a bad reputation from what had gone before.

Rather than Rockers/bikers v Mods, perhaps the biggest factionalism these days actually occurs within the biking fraternity itself, in some instances diversifying into crime and violence – and sometimes between each other (Gerry Tobin’s murder best exemplifying this in recent years). These days we still have rival clubs, rival websites and rival communities – Hells Angels, Road Rats, Outlaws, Bandidos, etc are at the “bad boy” end of the spectrum, while online communities like Visordown, London Bikers, UKbikeforum, Bikerssnug and a plethora of bike-specific forums exist for the mainstream. It may take a while but those that are interested in “belonging” generally find the right place to suit them.

Personally, I’ve been part of a formalised bike club (in a couple of different formats) for 8 years now – and have done some of my best ever biking in that time and made some good friends along the way. It’s not for everyone, but I do think clubbing up into different sized communities is a definite feature of the biking movement, and it is something that transcends borders. Wherever you travel, on the continent or further afield, you will find that bikers always respect other bikers. It is that camaraderie and shared bond that makes the movement special and unique.

So let's concentrate on the common enemy instead...cyclists

Harley Davidson: a corporation masquerading as a way of life

Harley Davidson – it’s an iconic name; one of the oldest in motorcycling, having produced their first bike in about 1903. Millions of people round the world ride one – and that kind of history and global reach has to be respected. Everyone wants to own a Harley, don’t they?

Actually, no – at least not in this country. They’re fine in the mid-west of America with long straight roads for long-distance cruising between towns and cities but why would anyone choose to ride one on our small, rainy, overcrowded island? There is but one reason – image. People are sold the American Dream and by buying a Harley – plus all the costly accessories - they can have a piece of that dream, whether they live in Sarasota or Sidcup.

And you’ll pay through the nose for it - a quick look at the UK dealer list reveals that prices for the Ultra Classic Electra Glide START at £29,995! This of course is many thousands more than a top of the range Japanese/Italian/German/British etc motorcycle. The Harley will also be less dependable, doesn't enjoy the quality or workmanship, and won't even perform as well – the reality is that very few Harleys are truly fast or powerful. Most are just loud rattle traps. In anything else but a Harley, the extremes that most owners go to would be considered tacky and tasteless, and probably laughable. So why do so many people flock to HD dealerships and wait in line for months for a Harley? Why does a Harley hold its resale value so well when all the cards are stacked against it?

Because of one thing: image.

Image is a powerful thing. With a Harley Davidson, you are sold the image of the open road, of freedom, of brotherhood. You can get a hundred weight of chrome on one of those motorcycles straight from the factory. Matching leather everything as well, even down to the little official HD logo, which is soooo important. Studded, braided, polished, painted, chromed….all image.  

Then there’s the other side of the HD legend. It’s easy to walk into a dealership, buy a new Harley Davidson, and then tell yourself, "I own a Harley, therefore I am a bad ass because a Harley is a bad ass bike”. It doesn't matter that you're overweight, ugly, have mice living in your beard, live in suburbia, on your third marriage, and wear a suit to work. You're baaaad because you own a Harley.

Baaaad? Or Sad? You decide….

Let's go for our first heart attack, shall we?

Food - we bikers love it. And if it is traditional fayre (read unhealthy) and served in large quantities, all the better it seems.

Food and drink play a huge part in the lives of the biking fraternity. Pitch up at virtually any bike meet and you’ll find a caff, tea hut or fast food outlet pumping out large quantities of hot dogs/burgers/chips/bacon rolls/full breakfasts etc all washed down with gallons of tea and coffee.

In London and the South East we are well served for such places. There’s the Ace Café on the North Circular, Ryka’s at Box Hill, the caff at Newlands Corner, Whiteways on the A29, Miller’s Tea Hut in Essex (which I believe has been there since 1927!), Loomies, the West Meon hut, Rye Harbour, and my own personal favourite, the Oakdene Café just off the M20 on the outskirts of Kent – all offering variations on the same theme.   

Why is it that bikers are inextricably linked with these places? After all, you don’t often see a group of Road Rats pitching up at Starbucks for their skinny lattes and blueberry muffins. My own theory is that when biking really took off in the 1950s, the bikes themselves were unreliable, the kit that existed was extremely basic and not particularly warm, and biking generally was quite hard work – hence riders needed a network of places to pitch up to, to patch up their bikes, thaw out their pillions and get something hot to eat and drink. The rough and ready feel of these places seemed to capture the spirit of biking in these days of yore – thankfully, many still remain and have become large meeting places or start/end points for rideouts.

Box Hill in Surrey (the renowned and picturesque place that inspires this blog) has been a Mecca for bikers for donkey’s years. It was the first bike meet I ever went to back in the early 80s (pootling along on my old learner 125) and to this day it attracts hundreds upon hundreds of bikes when the sun deigns to make an appearance. And yet, the food served up by Ryka’s (the on-site café) is probably the worst out there – their burgers resemble dog food served between two lumps of cardboard, their bacon is cheap and nasty and their chips soggy. How they survive, I have no idea – I guess they have a captive market, which is simply content with the bulk that is served up.    

So what does the future hold? Will the biking world start to demand better? The idea of biker-friendly restaurants with proper cutlery and tablecloths instead of tea huts and cafes? I doubt it. After all, there’s nothing quite like milling around in a car park sipping your “cup ‘o splosh” and devouring a bacon roll, while admiring other bikes and having a good old chin-wag with like-minded people.

And long may that continue….  

In the bleak midwinter….

The great British winter. Unpredictable at best, full on snow and ice at worst and in-between days of torrential rain, hailstones, storms, high winds and frost. You’ve got to be a bit of a head case to enjoy biking in the winter, right? 

It’s a challenge being a biker out in these conditions - we dress up, dress down, thermals, waterproofs, leathers and (very) occasionally jeans - and that can be in just one day. But what about the poor bike? It has to weather all of these conditions without the benefit of several layers of protective clothing that it can pull on and off at will.

If it’s lucky it can shelter in a garage at night (or, for the cissies amongst us, throughout winter), wired up to an Optimate and safe from the elements. If not, like mine, it does not have this luxury so has to brazen it out in all weathers with as much love as I can afford it.

Do not underestimate the damage that can be done to your bike by the weather. I know from just cleaning my visor after a ride, the amount of dirt that can be removed, and how grubby my jacket is after a couple of weeks’ road use.

Multiply this hundreds of times over and apply it to the bike with all its moving parts and nooks and crannies. In the wet, the front wheel throws muck from the road back in to the bike, over the pipes, over the engine and over the radiator. The rear does the same to the chain and shock. All of these start to corrode if not maintained. Then there’s the fork stanchions (how many can say they have not seen pitted forks on the front of bikes?), brake pistons, seals – again, all targets for corrosion. The list is endless. 

At least to some extent, the fault lies with the manufacturers using cheap materials but any biker riding through the winter will know that he or she will have their work cut out maintaining their P&J. WD40 and FS365 are your friends. Use them well – and early.

But winter biking isn’t all about toil. There are always days when the sun is shining and the mercury starts to rise (admittedly fewer in number these past couple of years) and the roads hold some grip. These are the days to get out and enjoy the bike – and this will hopefully be the case on Sunday as a few of us meet at Cowfold on the A272 for a little play….

Gentlemen....start your engines....

So here we go, my very first blog post. I've always thought blogging was for people who were a bit "up their own arse" and it may be that this is actually the truth of the matter, but, having at various points embraced Facebook, Twitter et al, I thought "bugger it - let's give it a go". 

So what's it all about? Well....bikes really, and what it's like being a biker in the challenging environment of London and the South East - with it's horrendous traffic, "safety" cameras every four paces, shite roads, zero parking and "assertive" road users. The Lake District this ain't....

As a biker, I'm keen but no Barry Sheene. I'm not the fastest, I'm not the slowest and quite frankly, I know precious little about how it all works - so it's really just about trying to stay alive and having a good time on two wheels whenever I can. When it all comes together, there's nothing quite like it.

However, having a good time on two wheels wasn't what came immediately to mind this morning when I looked out of the window. It's not everyone's cup of tea (especially in midwinter) but I don't mind commuting on the bike ordinarily - but it was absolutely tipping it down this morning, with no let up in sight. I searched in vain for my wet weather gear but gave up, assuming the wife had "tidied" it and so had to brave the weather in leathers and textile jacket. Big mistake. I was soaked before I got to Morden (2 miles down the road). Of course, most normal people would have reflected on the weather and taken public transport to work instead, but being a biker in London does give you a somewhat masochistic streak, so that was never really a serious consideration. So the morning has been spent feeling "moist"....

Of course, I should have known that the weather would turn - I cleaned the bike yesterday.... 

But onwards and upwards, weather permitting, there's a rideout on the cards for Sunday, so fingers crossed for that.