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My Motor Cycling Years
I first got interested in motorbikes around the age of sixteen.
My friend George Cairns had an old B.S.A. Bantam. It was not road worthy. It would never be road worthy. George and I used to push the motorbike from George's house to the back road to Alva. He spent ages trying to get it to start.
After the B.S.A he acquired a Honda 50. By Christmas I was hooked on motorbikes.
I used to go round to George's house, and over coffee we talked about motorbikes and buried ourselves in the magazines.
At this point I met another friend, Michael Pearson from Coalsnaughton. Michael had purchased a 250cc Suzuki from Angus Campbell in Dunfermline and he no longer needed his moped.
I decided to buy the moped from Michael for thirty pounds. I now had the luxury of motorised transport. I used the moped to go to my work at the REME workshops.
The moped was called a Mobolette belt driven. It was French.
One morning I was going to work on the moped. It was still dark but it was also frosty. The headlights on the moped were about as powerful as a candle!
I approached the junction at Logiekirk. After the junction there's a left hand bend before the road continues on past Wallace's Monument. I was doing about twenty miles per hour when I went into the bend. Without any warning, down I went. Black-ice was on the road. I slid along the road for about twenty to thirty feet. I was alright, I just got a bit of a fright. Almost beside me a Ford Cortina had gone off the road and into the ditch. There was no sign of the driver. Luckily for me there had been no traffic at the time I was sliding up the road. That same day I got the blacksmith at work to beat the bent pedal to straighten it.
I remember one day I was on my moped with my pals heading to Knockhill Racing Circuit. Just outside Saline the rubber drive belt snapped I had to push the moped from Saline back to Tillicoultry. I then had to order a new drive belt from a place in Glasgow but it turned out that the Mobolette was a moped I would have to push.
I parted with my moped to buy a brand new Yamaha FSIE moped. It was yellow. My friend George had the same model. We used to go to Sheriffmuir Inn. It was at the same time when Andy Robins the wrestler had his bear Hercules round the back. I think he had a blue Ferrari Dino.
The same year I bought the Yamaha it started giving bother. It started misfiring and when the small engine misfires it won't pull the skin of a rice pudding! I found the problem was that a carbon bridge had formed between the two electrodes on the spark plug.
Then one day on the same year my, Yamaha wouldn't start at all. I pushed the moped from Tillicoultry to Angus Campbells shop. I was really pissed off with the bike. When I got to the shop I didn't complain. I traded the moped for a brand new Yamaha RD 250cc. It was blue with white and black chevrons and it was to become my pride and joy.
George had acquired a Yamaha YDS 250cc an older model. The engine was worn and needed a rebore George couldn't afford. It was suffering from severe piston slap and you could hear him coming a mile away. Then one day George thought he had found a cure for worn cylinder bores. He had got a hold of this magical stuff called "piston seal". He took the head and barrels off, must have taken the best part of a day. I don't know how much or little he used but at the end of the day it was all in vain. George came from his house to my house, a matter of yards and it was as bad as ever. We came to the conclusion Piston Seal is as useless as a plane with no propellers!
I drove away from the shop the proud owner of a brand new Yamaha 250cc The year of the bike was nineteen seventy six, the registration number was RFS228P.
The engine had to be run in for five hundred miles to let the engine bed in. Driving the Yamaha gave me time to get used to the bike and gain confidence.
I met Steven Olsen from Alva. Steven was a few years older than me and I knew him from secondary school but not that well. After I was introduced to Steven we soon developed a good motorcycle friendship.
Michael Pearson already knew Steven.
On a Friday in the evening, I went to the pub in Kippen for a pint along with George, Michael and Steven. We took our time going to Kippen and on the way back we would have a race. At that time Michael was driving a 750cc Suzuki and Steven drove a Honda four hundred - four cylinder so the result was always the same first and second respectively with George and myself bringing up the rear.
That year Wattie, a biker, who also went to the same pub died when his bike left the road not far from Kippen. Wattie was popular and friendly too.
The closest shave I had on the Yamaha was when I was going to Dollar from Tillicoultry round the Dollar bends. If I remember rightly George was behind me. I approached Tates Tomb corner, a family cemetery surrounded by walls.
I had travelled this way many times, but this time I went wide taking the wrong line. I used the farm road entrance opposite Tates Tomb to go along the grass verge so far then back on to the road. It was lucky escape!
It pays dividend to have the proper clothing and there is a wide range available. I was paying the motorbike off through a finance company. That reflected on the clothes I wore on the motor bike, my brothers old Barbour jacket, a pair of leather gauntlets then a pair of denim jeans and trainers.
One day I thought I would go to this place nearer Oban. I though there was a motorcycle rally going on. The air temperature must have been freezing. I was nearly there when I was forced to pull into a layby for about fifteen minutes flexing my fingers in an effort to get the circulation back in my body. I summoned all my physical and mental strength to get me back home. I was gutted when I finally arrived home.
I became friends with John Stewart and his girlfriend Hillary Scott. Jock had a Yamaha too and I saw them from time to time.
Michael went to the TT races in the Isle of man every year. Stephen and I decided to go on holiday touring round the top of Scotland. We didn't get off to a good start or to be more precise, I didn't get off to a good start.
Just over a bridge before Tyndrum I got a puncture in the back tyre.
I pushed the Yamaha to a bed and breakfast house and asked the occupier if it would be alright to leave the motorbike, which it was. I set off on the back of Steven's Honda all the way back to Dunfermline for an inner tube.
We returned to the motorbike, Steven did the repair, then we set off again. We reached Torridon where we stayed at Torridon Youth Hostel for a day.
The scenery was spectacular.
We stopped off at John O'Groats. We had quite a long break. We paid a visit to Caithness glass where we watched the process of glass making.
We then had to leave to continue the long journey home.
I like touring but I though it might be time to get a bigger bike more suitable for touring. So I decided to sell my motor bike.
I spoke to a work mate Duncan McKinnon, who got back to me the following day to say he knew someone that might be interested. We arranged a meeting place in Stirling. The chap who was thinking of buying it liked it right away. I only lost thirty pounds on the purchase price which was five hundred pounds. I had looked after the Yamaha. It was in good condition, I found it a bit depressing as I watched the buyer get on the Yamaha pull a 'wheelie' then thrash the living daylights out of it down the road. There was nothing I could do as I'd made my mind up.
George has passed his driving test and bought a Ford Capri.
Around about that time my mind was made up for me and my life went in a whole new direction. But that's another story!