This one will be a short but sweet one, but it is a bike that is very close to my heart and is part of the family. It all starts back before I was born, when my mum and dad were dating, he went to go and see my mum at my grandparent’s house and the bike was next door owned by Rab. Rab used it to get home from the pub, never parked in on its stand, just rested it on the wall by the handlebar like what we all did as a kid on our bicycles. His wife wanted rid of it and offered it to my dad for £10, that also included a helmet and leather jacket. My dad could ride this on his car driving license and this got him on two wheels on the road, I am sure he done some work on it to make it run better. My mum told me he gave up smoking to afford the parts for it. He decided he was going for his bike test and for this he had to pass a CBT which he done on this old 1978 100cc, He went on to sit his full bike test which again he done on the little Suzuki. He went on to buy his CX500 after that. After this my uncle Kev (he isn’t really my uncle but always been there as a close family friend before I was born) ran around on this and done his test on it as well. Eventually my uncle Zander ran around on this for a while until one unfortunate night.
Zander parked the bike outside my mum and dads house when I was young, I can remember my dad saying to him where did you park the bike, Zander thought my dad had moved it as a joke and just laughed and never took my dad serous. Turns out some kids had stolen the bike. My dad got word from a policeman later that night after looking for it that kids were riding a bike down next to the burn. My dad quickly went down with some of his friends to kindly get what belonged to him back. As my dad seen them riding it, screaming the engine, he caught the person just as he slowed down. My dad kindly grabbed the bike but before anything else could happen a policeman put his hand on my dads shoulder as said they would take it from there. My dad checked the damage, see they had ripped the original reg plate off which was a metal pressed plate, smashed the ignition barrel and other parts that were damaged.
My dad slowly rebuilt the engine and when I was 13 just after I stopped racing for the first time my dad signed the bike to me. He took me up to his work where I could learn how to work gears, I went from a twist and go with full race slicks, racing disc brakes and setting up for racing tracks to a geared bike that had skinny tyres and drum brakes. As soon as I felt like I was getting more confidant riding round his work he would start jumping out in-front if me to make me work the brakes. I always done about 90% of my braking on the front brakes, my dad was trying to teach me to use the rear brake, even to this day I still use to much of the front brake.
The bike was retired into the bottom hut where it sat for nearly 16 years, until the dreaded lockdown happened. My dad stays in the house across the drive-way from me, he was tidying out his garden as there was not much else to do except work, he cleaned the bottom hut out and seen the wee bike sitting there, we pulled it out and blow the tyres up, fired some fresh petrol and 2 stroke in it and kicked it over, after about the 5th kick it started up like it had never stopped. We took it for a quick up and down the garden like I did all those years ago when I was younger and decided to tart it up a little and put it through its MOT. After it passed, I spent many of days ridding the bike, on a Saturday morning I would go across the fourth road bridge, because it was under 125cc I could use the old bridge then make my way through Limekilns, Culross and found some little gems for food. I done this on a big bike but it didn’t seem the same, went to quick, the little bike was more relaxing and more of an adventure. I joined a classic motorcycle club which I will talk about on another story. My little classic will be on display at the bike show where I use to go every year. The little bike which is part of the family will be viewed by hopefully someone who has a similar or better story with their family history and bikes. Overall, this little bike isn’t just a bike, the bike feels like part of the family as has great history with the friends and family that have ridden this bike. Hopefully my Daughter and Son will continue on with this bike and it will run for another 40 years.
Garys motorcycle and travel adventures 