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Oh no, it’s that time again,
Pouring good money darn t’ drain.
Engine lumpy, sounding strange,
Time for t’ annual oil change.
Go online t’ see what’s cheap,
dealers prices make me weep.
Onto eBay to check the cost,
Add p&p? they can get lost.
Up to Reggies to buy some oil,
Which brand? – cheapest, I’m not loyal.
Hi Flo filters are the best.
Quality and cheap – I am impressed.
Chrome plated filter? What tha like?
Can’t see it when it’s on the bike.
Basic stuff for a basic bloke,
Can’t be bothered with fancy folk.
Synthetic oil, semi or full?
Always follow my golden rule,
Fully synthetic on the clutch
Replace slippy plates costs ahhh much???
Ride back t’ ours g’een it some stick,
Heat that oil up nice and quick.
Exhaust is throbbing, glowing red
Oil smoke pours from cylinder head.
Sump nut rounded, I feel a numpty
Lump hammer n chisel, g’i it some wumpty.
Ar lass’s bowl from t’kitchen sink
Be big enough for t’oil I think.
Unscrew t’nut, it drops int bowl
Sinks in oil as black as coal
Thiz too much oil, it comes o’er side,
A great black slick flows down me drive.
Now t filter, it won’t budge,
Spear wi’ screwdriver gi’ it a nudge.
Lump hammer bray bends driver next
A quid from Rufforth what d’y expect?
Braying and welting wi big lump,
Filter flies off, lands wi a bump,
bounces ont drive spewing out oil
Across me grass and onto soil.
My hands are black but visibly more radiant
Re age re juvenated and re fragrant.
What is that exotic scent sublime?
It must be essence de Putoline.
I nip inside for a swift drink.
Leave oil to drain into bowl from sink.
Must have had a visit from a mugger
Come back out, no sump plug, bugger.
Pour black oil into an old drum.
Not darn drain, it’s just not done.
Then it hits me, am I thick?
Sump plugs in drum, tip it out quick.
Screwed back in and hammered round
A reet job that and really sound.
New filter on and up hand tight
Then swing ont stillsons makes it right.
Funnel in to aid the flow
Fill it up and away we go
Bike maintenance - don’t lose plot
Once a year if it needs it or not!
By
Spam Hairs
The Barnsley Po-it
Craven Motorbike Museum April 09
What a great time we had at the motorbike museum. From the moment the door was opened and I inhaled that strange old, musty, oily smell I could feel myself being transported into a different time warp.
Carl was like a kid in a sweet shop, Ooh! I had one of those, me and my mate used to ride it round the fields....... it blew up in the end.
Ooh! I had one of those, I got it in bits and put it back together, took me months..........it blew up in the end.
Ooh! I had one of those, I modified the engine, got another 5mph out of it...............it blew up in the end.... The theme goes on.
He told me about the engines, size, power and how it was different to the one next to it and why it was the bike of its day.
We were both taken by how small the bikes looked, even though we had thought them ‘big bikes’ at the time. It’s got me wondering about wagon wheels, I was convinced that they were making them smaller nowadays but maybe they too just appeared to be ‘big’ at the time.
As we moved onto the old war time vehicles I saw a long coat, like a mackintosh hanging on the wall. I remembered my dad telling me about one in his biking days (before I was even a twinkle in his eye). That’s all he had against the weather, he’d have his helmet, goggles and a scarf and would put the huge collar up. There were straps inside the lower part of the coat to so he could tie it to his legs to try and keep the wet and wind out. It was so hard it could stand up by itself in the corner to dry out. We felt at it, Fred (my brother) and I and it was like cardboard and we looked inside and there were the straps. I could imagine my dad, as a young man, head down, riding through the wind and rain to meet my mam. They must have really loved to ride in those days, everything was so basic. Dad had a single cylinder 500cc BSA, it was a special competition model, 70 MPH flat out, very low geared. ‘It would climb Mount Everest no problem, it loved the hills, ate ‘em up no problem’ He says ‘it had a huge tyre on the back, like a tractor’ Mmmmm, I wonder, did it just appear to be big?
In the next bit, along with the old Reliant (yep, dad drove one on his bike licence for years) was my first bike, actually I think it was Fred’s, a hand me down trike. We used to go like smoke, two up peddling like mad ‘til the pedals spun round so fast we couldn’t keep up then whoever was standing up on the back would scooter it, Oooo the downhills...... Yeee, Haa! (I still shout that on a good bit!) We had holes in our trouser knees that showed our scars and scabs and we scraped our shoes wicked but what fun. We also had, at one time, a big old scooter. Not a little one like they have nowadays, ours was much bigger, er, well that’s how I remember it. If I wanted a ride on it I had to push it up the hill, (big brother exploitation) When we got to the top I would sit on the foot plate, knees under my chin and hold on to the upright bars. Anticipation knotting up my stomach. Fred would scooter it ‘til we were going really fast, we would shoot downwards, getting faster and faster, doorways and railings becoming a blur. I remember gripping tightly, being scared silly and wanting to get off and yet when we got to the bottom unscathed and breathless, grinning from ear to ear, I was up and begging to have another go. I’m still the same now only it’s a 500, just wait ‘til I’m on my 650!
I had hoped to find a Honda SS50 (sports) but there wasn’t one to be found. I had one when I was 16, it was my first and only bike. I’d never ridden before, my dad put it on the stand in the garage and pointed out what things where and what they did.
Then he said ‘well sit on it then’......... I did.
He told me to lean back squeeze the clutch and knock the gear leaver down......... I did.
‘Na then’ he said ‘listen to’t engine, that’s first gear’............ I did
‘Oh an dun’t lean for’ed else tha’l shoot off daaan’t drive’.............. I didn’t!!!!
I don’t think I ever got past 47MPH with my head down and the wind behind me on the longest steepest downhill I could find, but I had great fun trying.
Of course there weren’t many cars about when I was a nipper, and before you think it NO there weren’t any horse and carts either, I’m not THAT OLD.
Happy days.
It was a grand day out, a proper blast from the past, maybe he will have my old 50 in next time we visit.
Ivy
Ivy’s tale of the trike brought back childhood memories for me too. Mine was exactly the same trike as the one she’s holding in the picture, same colour, and same single useless steel rod front brake! I think it was a Raleigh or maybe a triang? We used it as Pre School kids for what ever we were playing at the time. If we were playing “army” it would become the tank and if we were playing at being knights in shining armour it was the horse and the sweeping brush the lance, imagination is a great thing, how else can a little three wheeler be used as a submarine after you have just watched “voyage to the bottom of the sea” on the tele! Most of the time we generally rode it with several people on board and down hill it could gather great speed with several nippers toughing it out and not wanting to be the first to “abandon ship” that would have been playing at “titanic”.
If you look at the construction at the back it had a tube above and across the back the axel where charioteers (playing at Ben Herr or Romans now!) could ride behind the seated peddler. We could easily get three nippers across the back behind me. Kev Webster had a trike too but it had a bucket affair strapped to the back, great for carrying brick or footballs but it meant only a few chums could get onboard with him, and it was a rubbish blue colour! Anyway, back to the chums on the back and the single useless steel rod front brake, under the bar where they stood was the rear axel spinning in a dangerous none-health and safety way! They could put their feet directly onto the axel to slow us down as we went flying down any steep streets. This emergency brake didn’t do your shoes much good but it used to make the axel shine like chrome.
Towards the end of the time I had the trike the seat cover lost its fixings and used to just flap about the frame and the seat springs remained intact. A seat repair that lasted a year or two was done by my Mam who put one of my uncle Alf’s old pit socks over the seat as a cover. Incidentally the sock had spent the previous couple of winter months rolled up and wedged in the letter box to keep out the draft but as it was now summer it was no longer needed!!!
Anyway to cut a short story long, when we were out playing and the action aboard the trike “ army tank” was a little intense our side lost a battle and Kev Webster and friends commandeered our tank ( the little red trike) and rode it off in victory. Unbeknown to them the sock had come off the seat in the fracas and when he jumped aboard and rode off down Sutton Ave the springs on the seat expanded and contracted with the bumpy ride until they wore through his trousers and nipped a red fan shaped seat mark on his arse that lasted more than a week!!!
I don’t know what happened to the trike in the end, probably the same thing that happened to it repeatedly through its life; it was passed onto someone else’s kid in the constant recycling that went on back then. Not much money about then but plenty of good hearted neighbours.
Thanks to Ivy for jolting the memory.
Steve
Stafford Classic Bike Show Sunday 26th April.
Four BBC members set off from Bill Thomas Mcs in Wombwell at 9.15am bound for the Stafford Show. The weather was glorious as we made our way up Birdwell and into Sheffield. Then up Rivelin Valley and get some speed on going into Derbyshire. Over Ladybower and down to Bamford and Bakewell. A fast run over excellent winding lanes brought us to Ashbourne. Up past Darley Moor and up the A50 to Uttoxeter. Numbers of bikes increased the closer we got to Stafford and by the time we were crossing the A51 there was a convoy of bikes on the road.
We arrived at Stafford Showground at 10 to 11. So not a bad run. As we parked up a young lady was handing out free sidestand pads, which was nice. There were thousands of bikes in the park. The wallet took a bit of a knock when we paid to get in, 50p up on last year so a huge £9.50 each. The show was bathed in sun and everyone was in t shirts. As we passed a snap van the aroma of frying sausages was too much for Ivy and she bought two sausage sarnies. When she got hers she gave it back telling them it was cold and demanded a freshly fried one. I think we’ll be taking our own snap next year!
We ambled round the many halls packed with gleaming exhibits. The show was huge. But so were the prices. It was one of those days when I just wish I still had all the BSAs, Triumphs, Nortons and yes, even Royal Enfields that I have owned over the years. I’d be a millionaire! Anything old with two wheels and parts of an engine is going for big money nowadays. People were paying hundreds for semi complete bikes that ten years ago you would have given away.
In the main hall we had a good long look at a 1928 Douglas racer. Amazing design, Douglas 180 degree twin, fore and aft cylinders, Norton piggyback gearbox in a Triumph frame. I just wish I could have seen it running with all the external push rods etc. There was just so much to see that the entrance fee didn’t seem too bad now! It wasn’t just British stuff though, my eye was caught by a club display of Kawasaki GPZ900s and 1100s
all in very good nick.
On one stall a Triumph Tiger Cub engine looked like a toy model but the price was real enough £1100 !
AHHH Much???
I saw one bloke, smiling like a kid at Christmas, pushing his newly purchased pride and joy out of the showground. It was a Casal Moped with the seat missing and I thought ‘what are we coming to, you couldn’t give those away a few years ago.’ But chacun à son goût as the French say.
We wandered round the race ‘paddock’ and then back to the main hall. On the way a familiar figure walked past us. It was Carl Fogarty on his way to the race section. None of the others noticed. Fame eh?
Then it was time to do the huge autojumble. Well, there was everything you could think of even down to acetylene lamps for a Raleigh motorcycle but of course, the one thing I wanted wasn’t to be found, a generator rotor and starter clutch for a GPZ. Rarer than rocking horse do’s until I actually pay out for one, then they’ll be everywhere!
We had walked our socks off by now and with the hot sun beating down it was time for a break. Then back to bargain spotting.
There was a smashing display of Rocket Gold Stars all gleaming and looking like new. I don’t know how their owners do it. I can’t even keep my new bike clean.
Further on ‘George Formby’ was signing autographs and playing his ukele.
We eventually made our way back to the bikes, tired but happy having seen a great show. I’m sure there was a lot more than last year. We made our way back by the reverse route, stopping for petrol in the Peak District. We detoured in Derbyshire down lots of really nice backroads to go through Chatsworth Park where there was a TVR rally going on. It was a bit late to go in by the time we got there but we saw lots of TVRs on the road. Traffic was gridlocked out of Chatsworth to Baslow so I did a quick diversion using local roads and bypassed it all. We went back up to Ladybower and took the decision to go over The Strines. I usually enjoy it but the road is getting that bad that it’s not much fun nowadays even though my DLs got long travel suspension. Back down Stocksbridge Bypass and into Wombwell. 180 miles in total.
An enjoyable sunny day out, some great roads and a very good classic show.
Sorry I didn’t put it on as a club run but it was a last minute decision to go.
C.
I say you chaps.... Never mind the ‘Motorcycle Diaries of Che Guevara’
or the jaunts of Ewan & Charlie.
Thrill to the intrepid exploits of our very own Basil Smyth Armstrong.
Download the doc files by clicking the thumbnails below.......
Please let it get me home!
Captain Framgasket.
I can’t believe it!
