The first inkling I sensed one windy spring morning many years ago that I was in imminent danger of injuring myself, or worse my pillion passenger as well, was the sound of my motorcycle’s front wheel as it just clipped a particularly high curb my having started a right turn away from it just a fraction too late. This occurring in the UK and hence on the left hand side of the road. I had initiated the turn barely a few seconds too late. We were traveling at the speed limit of 30 mph just exiting Barrow-in-Furness where we both lived, headed to our laboratory technician jobs at Glaxo Laboratories in Ulverston eight miles away. Relatively unusual for Barrow at most any time of year, it wasn’t raining so my crash helmet was in a pack on my back! Par for the course pursued by the then seventeen year old inherently immature teenager that was me. Much more mature, my pillion passenger Sid, who was in his mid twenties, was wearing a crash helmet and he didn’t even own a motorcycle! Oh and for the record, I did have a license to operate motorcycles and thus also to carry a passenger.
Unbeknownst to me as I attempted without success to complete the right turn away from the curb, Sid had I later discovered, immediately baled so to speak. A brave man pavement is generally unforgiving. Fortunately it turned out he was unhurt. I attempted to soldier on by increasing the turn towards the middle of the road the AJS 350 cc bike by then over at about a sixty degree angle but heading quickly towards ninety degrees and still moving at about 30 mph. I was determined to hang on until the bike came to a stop which I succeeded in doing.
Prior to stopping, I heard a shattering noise as the bike, by then more or less completely over on its right hand side, continued at speed for quite some time before gradually slowing. I realised that the noise was the headlamp smashing. I was wearing goggles which was likely just as well as the glass flew everywhere. The bike continued on its way very soon crossing the centre of the road into the oncoming traffic lane. Fortunately the oncoming traffic was some distance away and thus I was able to come to a stop whilst hanging on for dear life. I remember cursing myself that I would have to buy a new headlamp! Money was tight in those days among the beleaguered working class masses. Seventeen years of age and essentially weekly pay cheque to weekly pay cheque penniless, I was peeved that I would have to shell out money that I barely had not just for the headlight but to fully repair the bike. This aggrieved thought already occurring during not after, the accident. I don’t remember the precise moment I let go of the handlebars but let go I did oblivious still to the fact that my pillion riding buddy Sid had baled some time previous.
It happened that there was a bus stop right at our location. It was a terminus stop where the buses turned around and headed back into town. A bus was parked at the stop and people were running out to help us in whatever way they could. There was no public phone box within sight and of course cellphones were very many years into the future – this happening in 1959! Other than the people already seated on the bus and those that had run out to help us, there were no other folks within sight. Sid caught up with me and we walked towards the bus, climbed aboard and it moved off immediately heading back towards the town centre. En-route the driver stopped at the first pay phone he saw, dialed the UK’s universal public emergency number 999 and arranged a rendezvous-vous with an ambulance that was immediately dispatched to meet up with us as our bus travelled back towards downtown.
I remember taking the first empty seat on the bus and then everything immediately went blank. Eyes wide open, I could no longer see period. Sid had taken a seat beside me. I have a very strong memory of my saying ‘Sid, I can’t see, I can’t see’. I was scared. The seventeen year old that was me I believe literally thought at the time that I had been blinded by the accident. Perhaps for life for all I knew. I then apparently fainted I was later to discover. I have no idea who retrieved the damaged motorcycle and had it taken to a local repair shop.
The next thing I remember was being carried out of the ambulance on a stretcher at the hospital the bus having high tailed it to a meeting point with the ambulance which then very soon got me to the hospital. We had arrived at Barrow’s Lonsdale hospital, then the only hospital for the 60,000 plus Barrow population. En-route my vision came back to normal presumably because I had shaken off the faint. Likely I was still in shock. Fortunately Sid it turned out was unhurt but for a few scratches.
I remember being transferred from the ambulance to a stretcher the minute we arrived at the hospital then everything went blank again. Perhaps I fainted again or more likely they gave me some kind of shot. Either way I wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.
I have very little memory of the initial time in hospital. It turned out the medical staff thought I might have fractured my scull. Fortunately I had not however to no surprise, they took no chances until they were satisfied that there was no fracture. After I think about three days I was responding well to treatment and had some visitors including my girlfriend. On the fifth day I was given the green light to leave.
The AJS 350 was soon fixed up new headlamp glass and all. I have had several motorcycles over time since plus a superb Heinkel scooter – Photos of both shown below. I have never again ridden without wearing a helmet. Once bitten twice shy!
Post Script:
Heinkel marketed their Tourist scooter as the Rolls Royce of scooters. In my view they were right on. Very well built, it had a 175 cc four stroke engine, 12 rather than 6 volt electronics and various other bells and whistles. Then living in London, we even did a camping trip on it touring France, Holland and Belgium. That said it did break down once. I got it to a garage with help from some local youths who had a car and a piece of rope with which they towed me – too fast! It was I think the scariest ride of anything I have ever had not counting riding in a driverless by design, four person bobsleigh at the Calgary Alberta Olympic park. I was in the brakeman (rear) position except that there were no brakes. (See my Short Story on this blog – The Most Exciting Minute of my Life April 19, 2019.)
The Heinkel scooter did eventually develop a very bad and it proved, difficult to resolve problem of the front brakes ‘grabbing’ sporadically for no apparent reason when they were applied in rain. This catching me off guard just once, caused me to depart company with the scooter during rush hour in central London. I landed quite hard in the midst of heavy traffic seemly moving every which way. I was literally in the middle of a very busy intersection on Kensington road in Chelsea. It doesn’t get much more chaotic at least it didn’t then. Managing to get the attention of a few drivers by frantically waving my hands about, some of them slowed, others seeing my predicament stopped. I was then able to right the bike and push it off the road and on to the sidewalk.
Without me creating one, this story does have a surprising quite literal final twist! I put the bike on its stand on the sidewalk and sat on it to catch my breath for a few minutes. I happened to notice someone dangerously running through traffic to get to my side of the road. He was waving a sheet of paper. As he approached, I could hear him shouting something. He was yelling ‘I got his number, I got his number.’ Flummoxed, I thought maybe he wanted me to phone someone – from a pay phone of course cellphones were eons into the future. He handed me the piece of paper and the ‘penny’ dropped as they I think still say in the UK. On it was a vehicle registration number. My would be good samaritan, believing incorrectly that he had witnessed a car striking my scooter as it and I went down, had made a note of its number plate. The scooter had of course played its trick of ‘grabbing’ and seizing up the front wheel in heavy rain which is why I went down, not because I was hit by traffic.
On later reflection of the incident and for reasons unknown, I had a morbid thought that had I in fact been hit by a vehicle because of the scooter’s tendency to arbitrarily seize up the front wheel when I applied the front brake and had I then become deceased as a result thereof, my would be good samaritan might have found himself in court swearing blind that the driver of the vehicle’s registration number he had so kindly brought to hand, just might have initiated and hopefully not, a wrongful conviction per se and hence perhaps jail time for the totaly innocent driver.
And finally! (honest)
Many years after my serious accident with the AJS 350 and by then living in Vancouver Canada as I still do, I was playing soccer in our much loved Stanley Park. I noticed a guy on a motorbike pull up close to where we were playing. The bike looked very familiar and yes indeed, it was an AJS 350 of about the same vintage as mine had been. I had to go over and talk to the guy.
So engrossed in AJS 350 nostalgia did we quickly become, I initially failed to notice a very extraordinary thing. He had the bike on its stand and on the gas tank, I am not making this up, was a black cat! The cat was asleep. Gob smacked I asked if he always had a cat with him. Yes he said, he did. It traveled not on the tank thank God, but in a special box which had been affixed behind the seat.
For motorcycle riding cats info see www.purr-n-fur.org.uk. I don’t think the photo below was the same guy nor the same cat, but it might well have been. Certainly I did not take the photo as I had no camera to hand. They days I most always do. Likewise I did not take either of the other two photos below.
AJS 350
Heinkel Tourist scooter. More than 100,000 were sold.
