Losing touch

I stopped riding when I sold my Kawasaki Zephyr 550 back to Harold.  I had bought it from him as his wife was concerned he had too many motorcycles so he sold two of them and bought a Triumph, I think to fulfil a long held dream to have a British bike, a  British bike that worked.  It drank petrol like a car and was a heavy bugger so he wanted to Zephyr back, for the price I paid him 6 months earlier.  I obliged but stopped riding, and lost touch with Harold.  I did see him a few more times but my life had moved on and there wasn’t the time or capability to keep up.  His wedding gift, a crystal bowl, sits in our house to this day but until I started writing this I had forgotten the linkage.  

He had helped me many times in our friendship, often related to fixing my GSX550.  Getting the frame welded by the local motorcycle servicing place required the engine taking out.  Harold lent me the engine hoist and drove the bike sans engine to the right place.  Getting the bike back from Southampton where it had been left in the student halls (where I met my wife) a long time after I had stopped living there.  Harold drove me to Southampton one weekend and used his trailer to transport my bike back as it had no MOT and wasn’t roadworthy.

He was supportive and kept me occupied in my early twenties when I didn’t have a clear idea of what I could do with my life after my early false starts. It’s amazing how easily conversation could flow over a cup of tea although mostly we returned to motorbikes. He even offered his business to me in what I know recognise as a vendor funded management buyout. I was flatted but

His calm and good humoured manner made him great company.  He also didn’t let age stop him being adventurous.  Over time he took me along to many things; to the safe riding competitions; to the motorcycle show at the NEC where we took part in the mass ride into Birmingham; to the London to Brighton vintage bike run as backup, driving his Volvo and trailer as backup.  

He asked for almost nothing in return.  He did ask me to drive the back up trailer for the London-Brighton vintage run but that was to share the excitement rather more than the burden of driving.

We did that run twice but the Lloyd kept overheating and it never made the whole run.  Reading this about the Lloyd Motorcycle Company I see they even mention overheating so we should have known but no internet, and no mobile phones, made it all much more complex back then!  The average speed on a single cylinder Lloyd wasn’t much more than 20mph so stops for tea at the official stop were relaxed affairs. Relaxed except for the fact that filling the bike up required us to do it over the hot engine and exhaust. The car held jerrycans of fuel and a funnel so it was a two man job. It makes me wonder whether anyone could make a solo trip on the thing.

I learned to reverse a trailer on those trips as well. Not with the priceless Lloyd on it but when the trailer was empty, and therefore couldn’t actually be seen except in the mirrors as it appeared from behind the car hopefully on the side you wanted it to be. Hard to learn a complex skill like that.

The Lloyd was left in the garage covered up under blankets and tarpaulin and Harold told me after the last run to Brighton he couldn’t manage the physical demands. I now realise what he was talking about.

But I had stopped riding.  There was little to draw me back to biking.