My Time's My Own

As a teenager that preference led me to offer my services to the Queen.

Having taken part in 25 mile time trials on my trusty Hobbs of Barbican and achieved a fair degree of success as a member of my local cycle speedway team (the Manford Falcons) I felt it was time to move on to greater things. So I strolled into the Recruiting Office and offered my services to the Nice Sergeant behind the desk - making it clear that I was prepared to sign on, for a trial period, on condition that I could join the Royal Corps of Signals as a dispatch rider (my real objective was to join the Signals Motorcycle Display Team but I didn't want to seem pushy).

"Of course you can son", said the Nice Sergeant.

Thus assured, I took the medical and signed on the dotted line.
However, after basic training, the Army reneged on the deal and told me they were going to train me as a communications technician (Grade X3) - they attempted to soften the blow by telling me that my intelligence and aptitude for learning would be wasted on a motorbike.

I was not pleased and told the CO that I wanted to go home. My request was ignored.

Over the next few years I had a great time, saw interesting places, met interesting people and was given all sorts of toys to play with, but upon discharge, I bought a bike.

I was a sort of Mod/Rocker. It didn't matter to me whether I rode a motorbike or a scooter. They were both fun in their own way.

Very soon, due to my excellent physique, tanned good looks and charismatic personality I found myself committed to matrimony (probably the most sensible thing I ever did!).
I stayed loyal to two wheels for a time, but that loyalty had to be set aside when we started a family. From then on a car was essential and a bike was only for travel to work.

Then, in 1988, disaster struck. The firm gave me a Company Car! I became bike-less.
But fortune smiled.
In April 1994 I came across a 650cc BSA A65 lying unloved and unwanted in a back garden. I'd never owned one, but I'd always admired the BSA Unit Twins.
How could I leave it there?
It was rusty, the chrome was peeling off, every nut and bolt was seized up, all the wiring was perished, the exhaust pipes, silencers and wheels were fit only for scrap, the saddle was ripped and the engine was seized.
I was determined to restore it. Margaret thought I was crazy and I had a sneaking suspicion she was right. Little did I foresee the headaches, the pain, heartache, expense, pleasure, aching joints and sense of achievement that rust bucket was destined to give me.
Despite the bike's age I had no difficulty in locating BSA spares, and 10 months later she was reborn as a Flamboyant Red BSA A65 (an optional colour for that year) with a powder coated frame, new wiring harness, re-chromed tank, refurbished engine, new saddle, new shockers, stainless steel rims and, all in all, about 60% of her ancillary bits replaced with original-to-type components.
(I also fitted an electronic ignition system which improved top end performance noticeably). She's beautiful. She passed the MOT test with flying colours in January 1995 - and still does, every year.

This was a restoration project motivated by nostalgia. Back in the early 60's, before we were married, we had a black NSU Prima 'D' motor scooter (“Peggy Sue”). We toured practically the whole of the UK with never a problem - apart from the time we crashed head on into the side of a car! The insurance company wrote the bike off but I bought her as 'scrap', and a local NSU dealer got her back on the road.
A few years later Peggy Sue and I were forced to part company – we found it difficult to transport babies on a scooter. But I've always had fond memories of her.
So, in 1998, when I saw an Prima 'D' offered for restoration I didn't hesitate. I had to have it. As you can see from the first picture, it was in a very sorry state.

Back in my garage I started to have doubts about whether I had the time (not to mention the money and the ability) to actually do the job.   Nevertheless, I set to - to create Peggy II.   Fortunately when I sold the original Peggy I had kept all the workshop manuals, parts lists and books.   I had a head start.
I stripped the bike down completely. I examined every individual piece to decide which had to be replaced and began to realise that this was going to be a much longer job than the BSA.
Over a period of about 4 years I de-rusted, sprayed, cleaned, re-plated or replaced each part.   NSU-Motzke, in Germany, carry a comprehensive stock of NSU parts and were a great help. There wasn't a single part that they weren't able to supply.
In June 2002 Peggy II passed the MOT Test.
I thought my labours were complete. I was mistaken.

On Peggy II's first outing I called into a local shop, leaving the bike parked outside. When I came back it was gone. Stolen. Immediately, I informed the Police but, typically, they showed no interest.
Determined to get the bike back, I donned my leathers, jumped on the BSA and set out to “interview” a few of the local lads who might have some information.
I struck gold. After some "persuasive dialogue" I received a phone message calling me to a secret meeting with a lad who told me everything that had happened - and who was responsible. With a little help from my friends, I recovered the Prima, damaged but complete.

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