First memories of motorcycles

For me it was my favourite Uncle and Aunt, and their frequent visits to our home on Sturt Road (Marion, South Australia) during their courting days. Uncle had an Indian Scout outfit, and so did his workmate of those days, Murray Aunger, who was a well known identity with his involvement in pioneering car exploits.

Sunday afternoons would sometimes see them, both aboard one outfit, going up and down on the rough metalled road in front of our home, the sidecar wheel high in the air while they both clambered all over the Indian in a variety of acrobatic feats. They worked together at the SA Railways workshops, (also at one time Autocars) which in those days serviced the huge (to us!) buses and charabanks which plied some suburbs. Uncle used to hire and drive a charabank some Sundays for a family picnic to a distant location.

I vaguely understood that my father had owned a Lewis at some previous time but the only remnant of this machine was a B&B carburettor that was stored in a box on a high shelf in our stone and mud walled shed, I used to secretly play with this intricate device, being fascinated by the float needle bobweights.

My next memory would be the AJS that another uncle used to ride. As children we were forbidden to go near it parked laying against the wall of the house, but my younger brother almost came to an early end when he somehow managed to pull the bike over on top of him. I remember my mother and Aunt lifting the bike off him and checking his screaming body for injuries – luckily nothing serious!.
Up until this time motorcycles were just huge lumps of hot metal that went 'Bang Bang'. The first bike that really held my interest was a brand new Triumph that one of our local 'Flappers' bought. Her name was Avis and her brothers also rode motorcycles. She would ride down to the local post office that was two doors from my home, dressed in corduroy men's trousers, tucked into her high leather boots, a 'fair isle' sweater and a tight beret with the ends of her bobbed hair just visible. I don't know who I loved most, her or the shiny Triumph! The petrol tank had side and top panels painted in a bright harlequin pattern, with the 'globe of the world' transfers displayed. l have never seen this Triumph tank decoration since, so wonder if it was a special one off for a lady customer.

Another Triumph arrived in the district at about the same time – it was new also and was owned by a local young blood, one 'Powder' Phelps. He was also prone to stunt riding, and was part of a small band of locals who were probably the fore runners of the South Australian scramble scene. The Ragless boys were part of this and they lived in the foothills behind my home. Long distance riding was their forte, and as young boys we were amazed that they ventured even as far as far off as Melbourne. 'Powder' (Colin) Phelps, never married, his only love was his Triumph which he possessed to the end of his life, still lovingly serviced in original running condition. I would hope that this machine is still in the hands of a lucky South Australian rider!

The first bike that I ever rode was a two-stroke Levis belt drive that used to lie in my Uncle's garage (an early service station) at Warradale. It belonged to a customer who had bought a car, and was for sale for some minor sum, 10 shillings I seem to remember, but even this was beyond my means as a poor schoolboy! However the bike eventually became a play thing for me and my mate. My Uncle would give us a small amount of petrol and oil, and we would thrash the Levis around the nearby paddocks to our hearts content. I was apprenticed to my Uncle shortly afterwards and the Levis was finally sold, but not before I had run my thumb between the magneto sprocket and chain while tuning the bike (I carry the scar to this day).

I was destined to remain a push bike rider for some time – it wasn't till shortly before the 1939-45 war that my father managed to buy a 250cc side valve Levis to replace his push bike. From then on I was able to use 'Levvy' as it was known, but it was 'grey porridge' of the lowest order. The frame and forks were twisted, and the fork shackles were terribly worn. We tried shimming them with cut up fruit tins and galvanised iron, but the forks still flapped about something terrible, the handling was non-existent. The motor's limited output made it certain that no real danger was eminent. It was on this bike that, with my younger brother on the pillion (actually a house cushion!) I almost T-boned a car one Saturday morning when it came out of a side street into Hindley Street (Adelaide). Luckily there was no contact, but I spent a little time at the kerb collecting my wits!

I bought my first bike at this time after a terrible argument with my father, who just could not understand why 'Levvy' wasn't sufficient for my needs, but a Cammy Velo that came my way through another rider’s misfortune, was too much to be ignored!. Brian Ellis was a wild boy of those times, and in a .05 plus state, almost ended his life in a wild slide down Anzac Highway. He suffered horrific injuries and lost one of his legs, but his constitution was such that he made a full recovery, and led a prominent life as an employee of Motor Traders (SA). I bought the Cammy for the price of his wooden leg – 27 pounds 10 shillings! He never used the leg, it was propped up in the corner of his office for years afterwards. He hopped about with his constant companion, a heavy duty crutch. Brian was a big guy, and joked that the only time he was successful at losing weight was when he lost his leg! We remained good mates through the years, but like a lot of friends, he is now long gone.

Brian had fitted the Cammy with KTT cams and it was a sweet machine after the repair of minor damage. It was soon equipped with a boat sidecar which was very quickly detachable, and one way or another it soldiered on through the war years in the hands of family and friends, running on various mixtures of volatile liquids. I rebuilt it after my discharge from the RAAF, and it was used for daily transport and weekend scrambles, road races and trials for a couple of years. But the advent of a new home and children saw it sold for 104 pounds in late 1947. Its place was taken up by a lash-up outfit consisting of an Ariel frame and wheels, a 16H Norton engine and gearbox and a lovely Dusting sports sidecar from an RAAF mate in Melbourne. This was brought back from Melbourne on the side of the Cammy when visiting Ballarat for the New Year's Day TT races (or was it the Easter meeting?).
Shortly after this, continued drenchings while riding the outfit to work on the graveyard shift at TJ Richards car body works prompted me to start construction of a three-wheeler. When the chassis was completed, the 16H and Ariel back wheel was dropped into the framework and the next morning I drove to work sitting on a cushion on a four foot square piece of plywood that was to serve as the base of the body. Each night something would be added and within a few weeks I was riding about in a 'rag top' vehicle, the steel body panels oiled to prevent rust till I could find the money for a professional paint job. This was over a year in coming and my life had changed drastically in the meantime.

I moved to Kangaroo Island and the three-wheeler was supplemented by a BSA Bantam. The three-wheeler was sold and a Chevy wreck became the family conveyance, but two Vespa scooters and a KSS Velocette kept me on two wheels till a move to Melbourne. Then the Japanese invasion saw me involved with Yamaha, and there has been a Yamaha in my life ever since. But my love affair with Velocette has continued, only being displaced in recent years by a desire to experience the joys of the early Veteran years!