Britbike forum Forums Thread Like Summary - goodbye to riding

This post is to let all my biking and camping mates know that at last, due to becoming too frail and ancient, I've had to give up motorcycling.
I will always cherish fond memories of all the great folk in the biking community who I rode with and who helped me get a vast amount of pleasure out of the rides, camps and rallies. What would I have done without mates to scrape me off the road after the various times I fell off my bike or who helped straighten up my tent which always seemed to end up a peculiar shape. Not to mention all the times help was given when things broke on the bike whilst miles from anywhere!

Motorcycling to me is about people, places and the mechanics . Here are 3 pictures from the many taken which capture what it was all about:


An outing whilst at one of Kev's great camps. This ride was in Wiltshire to the prehistoric West Kennet Long Barrow. Shaun thought it was where I hid my crypt!


Yarn time at the Barge Inn on The Avon and Kennet canal.



Lots of fantastic places were visited , Here' a great favourite of mine – England's only official desert - Dungeness in East Kent. The sea and the largest shingle (pebble) beach in Europe are at the far end of the causeway.

Grandad...I know just how it is. I somehow got old and then got very ill and not only had to give up riding but the family needed to sell off my vintage machines to help pay off the medical bills. But...like Monty Python says, " I got better !" While I no longer charge about on my beloved Catalina Gold Star, "Old Blue", I still love to tinker about in my small workshop and stay as busy as I can. Sharing your vast wisdom of British motorcycles with others is a great joy also so think about that. I am sure you will be more than welcome as rallys and camp outs come back. All my best from the foothills of Mt. Rainier in Washington State...WABOB

Here we go again, Grandad makes a silly statement, bet your sweet bippy he's been drinking Belgium beer again....

Grandad lad, cast your feeble mind back to when you were around 21yrs old lad, that bloke you read about, you know lad, Karl Benz. Well that contraption he made has become quite popular, in fact they're the ones that try to kill you as you wobble down the lanes of Kent. Why lad, I do believe you've got one sat outside your house somewhere...?

So all you need do is.....

Load up the 4 wheeled motorcycle, sit in the warm and dry, carrying all the equipment you need for a fully successful camp. Get Graham to erect your tent PROPERLY, or better than that get Flossie to do it. Then you can sit there decomposing gently away, while we spin yarns aplenty, filling you with at least 2 half's of bitter....

Strangely enough lad, you do NOT NEED a motorcycle to be with ya mates, you've done all you can with that marlarky, and it don't mean you can't come and be with your mates. Just make sure you've covered yourself in embalming fluid, it keeps the flies away....

See you at the Rabbit, IF we're plague free and they let us that is....

There comes a time in every man's life...

Your friends will STILL be your friends! And, as long as you can still type, you'll still be welcome here and any other online bike sites...

While I only had the opportunity to hang out with you once Grandad , I feel from the years of reading your posts that we can call ourselves friends... That one in person memory over a fantastic meal is a very fond memory... Just because you will not be on two wheels does not mean that we cant still hang out... unless you give up Pub meals as well.... So once they let us stupid Americans out of our own country again I hope to meet up with you in a fantastic pub in Kent .

See you Soon

Hey Karl

With respect to explosions I was mostly the victim and usually with a tad of comedy associated with them. Like during WW11 when me and my brother were kids and were caught in the blast of a V1 flying bomb and were bowled along the ground and ended up face down on the floor of an evil-smelling public urinal. About a year later a second rather bigger explosion from a nearby V2 rocket caused me to have my head banged violently against a wall. Even then I wasn't safe because a German aircraft which was about to crash off-loaded its remaining bomb on our street whilst our family was having breakfast causing an earth-shaking explosion which left all of us choking with soot from the chimney and plaster from the ceiling!
The comedy angle really started to emerge when I started work as a lowly lab technician. One day I reached into a cupboard to fetch a very large bottle of very strong .880 ammonia unaware that it had been resting against a steam pipe. As I placed it on the bench it exploded, drenching me in the highly noxious liquid. It burnt like hell and I could not breath and collapsed on the floor where the first aid man rushed in and proceeded to give me artificial respiration. At that moment the head of department appeared, looked at me then at the newly decorated ceiling which was now covered in strange-coloured blotches. “Dammit”, he bawled , Look what you've done to our ceiling!” At this, the first aider, who was also the union man, leapt up in a great rage and called the boss all sorts of obscene names for being more worried about his ruddy ceiling than this poor lad who lay dying on the floor!

Apart from the V1, ballistic rocket explosions and the bomb, which all were pretty big, my next big one didn't happen til 1960 when my new wife was shocked to have a policeman knock on the door to tell her that her husband was currently lying in the local hospital having blown himself up in the research lab where he now worked. The comedy here was that when the two ambulance men arrived at the lab to stretcher me to the ambulance they were obviously on very bad terms because as soon as they got out of the door and despite the fact that I was covered in blood and had umpteen bits of glass sticking out of my face, they put me on the ground and indulged in a violent fist fight. Oh yes - and my hair had turned ginger!

After that my only disaster was much lower key . I merely caught the lab on fire and it took three days to clear up the mess. That was when I decided to give up chemistry and try a safer discipline.

Only 'cos I can't find the bloody hammer!

Good on you Grandad! I hope I can make it another 20 years.
I'm still riding, though I really should get sponsorship from Copper Fit for all the braces I wear.
My biggest problem now is not starting and riding the bike, but getting up off the garage floor after removing the sump drain.