When I started work in 1955, over half of my weekly wage of two guineas (£2.10) was spent on bus fares to get there and back home; so, my father bought me a motorbike for my 17th. birthday. It was a 350cc. Royal Enfield (below - left). Later, during my military service, I rode several motorbikes - such as the BSA (below - centre). Finally, after I was demobbed, I bought a 650cc. Triumph Thunderbird with a Swallow sidecar (below - right and as featured in a recent TV advert).
(Click on photos to enlarge).
In those days, for many of my generation, motorbikes were a means of getting from A to B for those who couldn't afford a car. More recently, however, they seem to have become big (and, often rich) boys' toys and, since renewing my interest in motorbikes, I've had the opportunity to observe modern-day bikers (as they like to be known) and, in particular, their attitudes - but, more of that later.........
One obvious difference between then and now is the emphasis which is being placed on 'accessories' (below- left), nowadays. In the fifties, apart from the initial investment in the bike, basic running costs were the only expense involved. Helmets, for example, weren't compulsory and, when not bare-headed, I wore a balaclava or a flat cap. As it happens, I used helmets in the army; so, when I got the Thunderbird, I was persuaded to get a Stirling Moss version. Beyond that, an ordinary pair of wellington boots and a raincoat seemed perfectly adequate for protection from the elements; and, even when I rode from London to The Peak District on a regular basis, the only extra investment involved a pair of gauntlets, some goggles, and an ex-WD flying-suit (below centre - alongside a modern biker - to emphasise the difference).
One obvious difference between then and now is the emphasis which is being placed on 'accessories' (below- left), nowadays. In the fifties, apart from the initial investment in the bike, basic running costs were the only expense involved. Helmets, for example, weren't compulsory and, when not bare-headed, I wore a balaclava or a flat cap. As it happens, I used helmets in the army; so, when I got the Thunderbird, I was persuaded to get a Stirling Moss version. Beyond that, an ordinary pair of wellington boots and a raincoat seemed perfectly adequate for protection from the elements; and, even when I rode from London to The Peak District on a regular basis, the only extra investment involved a pair of gauntlets, some goggles, and an ex-WD flying-suit (below centre - alongside a modern biker - to emphasise the difference).
In the meantime, from my own point of view, nearly sixty years elapsed before the notion of returning to two-wheeled travel occurred to me and much of that experience is outlined in this blog. One thing I haven't mentioned, however, is my surprise - and disappointment - at the reaction I've encountered from many - NO! I'll amend that to MOST - of the bikers I've met whilst visiting roadside eating-places with Trixie. Put simply, it seems that engaging in conversation with someone who rides a scooter is slightly less appealing than associating with an inhabitant of a leper colony.
Now, putting aside the fact that those with whom I take issue don't know anything about my motor-cycling background, I find their dismissive attitude rather strange; not least because it should be fairly obvious that Trixie is not 'your average' scooter.
For a start, she's a tricycle and, as a consequence, is larger than most motorbikes (see left). and, secondly, her engine capacity is 400cc. and (to the chagrin of many) is quite capable of keeping up with most bikers.
Furthermore, the added stability afforded by the extra wheel and the fact that the particular model I ride has an automatic gearbox and can be ridden using a car license is very attractive to anyone at my time of life. So, all in all, I find their condescending attitude rather pathetic.
For a start, she's a tricycle and, as a consequence, is larger than most motorbikes (see left). and, secondly, her engine capacity is 400cc. and (to the chagrin of many) is quite capable of keeping up with most bikers.
Furthermore, the added stability afforded by the extra wheel and the fact that the particular model I ride has an automatic gearbox and can be ridden using a car license is very attractive to anyone at my time of life. So, all in all, I find their condescending attitude rather pathetic.
Equally strange, although there are some who are intrigued and have come to ask me about the trike's characteristics, this has never happened when there are other bikers around. It's almost as though they would be kicked out of The Brownies if they were caught fraternizing with an alleged inferior being.
Most interesting, however, is the fact that, although I've observed this phobia being displayed by all sorts of bikers, it does seem that the worst affected are those who are predisposed towards riding a well-known American manufactured motorcycle and fond of posturing around transport cafes.
Paradoxically - and somewhat disturbingly - it has been suggested that, if I donned my open-faced helmet (see right), borrowed my son's leather jacket, allowed my moustache to become a little more luxuriant, gained several stones in weight, and adopted a rather more camp demeanour, I could be mistaken for one myself.
Heaven forbid!
n.b.
Harking back to the fifties and the days of Mods and Rockers, a friend has suggested that, since Trixie is part scooter and part tourer, I should be call myself a Mocker.
Most interesting, however, is the fact that, although I've observed this phobia being displayed by all sorts of bikers, it does seem that the worst affected are those who are predisposed towards riding a well-known American manufactured motorcycle and fond of posturing around transport cafes.
Paradoxically - and somewhat disturbingly - it has been suggested that, if I donned my open-faced helmet (see right), borrowed my son's leather jacket, allowed my moustache to become a little more luxuriant, gained several stones in weight, and adopted a rather more camp demeanour, I could be mistaken for one myself.
Heaven forbid!
n.b.
Harking back to the fifties and the days of Mods and Rockers, a friend has suggested that, since Trixie is part scooter and part tourer, I should be call myself a Mocker.
