| Motor Cycling in the Fifties by Brian Wigmore |
| Ottawa Section CVMG |
Forward by Brian Wigmore
This reflects on special moments during my teenage riding years in the fifties. Story unfolds with my first
motorbike, and running with some characters, to the semi-final days of biking in 1956. (Resumed in 1974.)
Those years gave me fond memories of having the freedom to take off and cruise Ottawa with riding my buddies.
ENGLAND'S CORGI.
It was February 1952 and having just turned 15 years old the furthest thing from my mind was to own motorized
wheels.
My father was a policeman who worked out of #1 Station. It was on the site of the National Arts Centre (NAC),
adjacent to it was the Fire Department where my grandfather served as Captain in the early 1900’s.
As the family was sitting down for supper, the topic rose by my dad "There's a small scooter down in the holding
area, do you think you'd like it" he mumbled. A machine so I can get around on “WOW," with full gear enthusiasm
I blurted out.
He says he'll check out the ownership, and unfortunately the party that owned it was killed the scooter survived
with minor damage. After contacting the family and paying the purchase price of $10.00 I was now the proud
owner of a 98cc Corgi.
With the paper work completed in a day or so, we place it in the back of my dad's 39 Olds. And head for home
from the police station, with great excitement.
I do believe my father was like a big kid that evening, as we unloaded this tiny machine.
The side walks on Maclaren St. were ice to bare, and to start the Corgi it had to be pushed to get it running.
Who goes first?? You guessed it my dad, shoving it down the sidewalk till it putts into action. Here's a man 6`4
straddling this scooter, grinning from ear to ear as he passes me by on the sidewalk numerous times.
.
Come to think of it I don't remember having a turn that evening. It was put away until spring.
With an early spring thaw out came the Corgi. Some of you ask what the hell a Corgi is.
They were used by the paratroopers in the Second World War,
I don't think they were that successful. After the war they were re-painted maroon & black and a small little
headlight sat above the front fender.
They looked similar to a Honda scooter, a low frame, and 12 inch wheels .I believe Stan Johnson has a picture of
one.
Hey I was driving everywhere around Ottawa, great for going to school, and to my job selling papers at the
Jackson Building.
One of the problems the oil had to be mixed with the gas, and failing to mix it right they would carbon badly.
Exhaust port would clog up, and the Corgi would only try to start. It must have controlled my weight, for running to
get it started became a pastime.
A school chum also had one it would really go for its size, for the owner he was a little chunky at the time. Telling
him my tale of woe he says clean out the exhaust ports…OK!
Hey I was lucky if I could put a chain back on a bicycle.
So the head is removed, and not knowing what I was looking for I could not see the exhaust ports. They were
filled solid with carbon so running a coat hanger back and forth into the exhaust hole in head out pops a chunk of
carbon, ahh hah that’s what it looks like.!
Back together it ran well, but I was having problems with the spokes in the rear wheel, the newer models had disk
wheels.
So a decision to sell it when somebody wanted to buy it, I set my sights for a larger cycle.
Unfortunately no funds for a machine the balance of the year. A job was now required that paid decent money
part time for the reality of new wheels to come true.
Seeing a Corgi scooter even to this day in books wherever, I know it gave me the bug for future years in
motorcycling.
Czechoslovakia's Finest 125 CZ & 250 CZ.
Selling the scooter meant my sights were on a bigger c.c. cycle. My job came to an end selling newspapers, so
the rest of the summer…. back to the CCM.
One of my friends had purchased a new 125 CZ, he would let me sit on it, and drool knowing how much I wanted
to take it for a spin.
Dreams I had, but not been sixteen, no license, machine had to wait until spring of 1953
Testing ones memory of 47 years ago, for the life of me I could not remember where I purchased the 125 CZ.
Only that it was
In the time frame of May 1953, Mom lent me $85.00 after landing a job in Loblaws.
Just like Jim Hunter noted in last years newspaper article… his mother didn't mind a motorcycle around the house.
The CZ was a reliable make, my cousin who was on the back most of the time, till this day says “it was sure fun
going here and there, even with the assorted crises.
One day I drove up to the West End, picked him up, and took off for a ride.
We no sooner left his place than his foot slipped off the back shock and into the spokes.
Bad enough he took out three spokes, and ended up with a warped wheel. He was wearing a brand new pair of
shoes it took the heel right off. (He got his words when he got home).
Much of the time I wandered, around the city, and visiting a friend whose summer home was out past Kars.
As you left the village back then, it turned to a dirt road, and the first time to ride on gravel.
Well I wish there were a camera mounted to my bike, for as I rounded the first curve it started to slide.
Now picture this …… people out sitting on their chairs on there front lawn with a motorcycle heading off the road
in there direction.
During the moments trying to force it back to the road, I believe I was more scared then they were. Without
missing a beat and with dust following… into the ditch up on their lawn and back to the road hanging on for dear
life.
I couldn't quite hear what they were yelling at me as I continued down the road.
Another Sunday's misfortune coming back along the river road near Osgoode, dammit punctures on the rear
wheel.
We pushed the machine 2 miles to the main street garage in downtown wonderful Osgoode. The good ole boys
were poking a few back, and we asked for help in patching the tube.
Hey they were helpful to a point, in checking the tube it had it, …… now getting home was the issue.
"You boys from Ottawa " one of the guys asked? "Yes we are " we politely reply.
" Don't worry, I’m leaving soon, give ya a ride back."
The sun was shining that afternoon when he made that statement, we finally got on our way at 10 o'clock that
evening.
As we got into the booze wagon ( a 1951 Packard Clipper ) he peels off the main drag in the direction of home.
Scared???, dam right this guy had gone past the phrase "seven sheets to the wind ", and I am not sure if his
wheels touched the ground all the way to Ottawa ! He was clocking at least 90 most of the way, and when he
dropped us off at Carling -Preston, I doubt if he knew that we got out.
The summer `53 was coming to a close, back to school was in order. Around this time I met up with some center
town guys on the way to school also getting into motorcycling.
What a mishmash of machines these guys had purchased,
a 45 Harley or Hardly able as we poked fun at him. BSA 250 cc good little bike, a 74 Harley it sure had a
comfortable seat.! A Royal Enfield 350 was on hand, but I don't think it every saw the road , a Whizzer …wow,
…….. plus a 125 cc Excelsior.
The only new bike was a 250 cc Indian which was made in England (looked like a Royal Enfield ). It was mainly
yellow
We all know what this color means …….. LEMON.
We started to hang around, going to local hangouts till the cooler weather set in, riding was finished for 1953.
CZECH. 250 cc JAWA .
April of 1954, browsing the newspaper, came across a Jawa 250cc for sale $125.00.
Don't laugh that wasn't cheap when the average guy just out of school was earning $30 -40.00 a week full time .
Went to look at it … Clemow Ave. no less, I just had to have it.
Action stations -For Sale CZ125, good condition, $125.00. A guy from school was hooked .
You wouldn't believe what happened the next morning bringing the bike to school for the sale.
Those years Ottawa Tech, which was bounded by Slater at that time had a stop at Bay.
Coming along Bay heading north having the right of way, I heard this Hydro truck squealing his tires, trying to
stop sliding into the intersection.
Whamo, smack, right into the rear wheel well of the truck, and not even falling. The CZ wasn't as lucky it had a
bent fork and some minor scratches………was I pissed off.
To top it all off who investigates the accident? My father! The truck was in the wrong and a report has to be made.
Sure he was glad that yours truly wasn't hurt , but what about my bike.??.
To this day I always wondered what happened to that report!
Skipped school to head off to the cycle shop at Charles Ogilvy’s.
This guy could repair anything. Picked up a used fork leg , tear back down in order for the sale later that day. (
whehhh ).
Later that week I was the owner of a Jawa in quite good shape.
This machine during those riding years was the most fun , and the experiences have not been forgotten as you
read on.
For its time the Jawa 250 was quite unique, compared to a British bike of the same year they were more modern.
Mind you the twin pipe two strokes was not the best sounding unit around.
They had a system integrated into the clutch mechanism that you did not have to pull in the clutch to shift from
1st. to second , to third. Front & rear shocks, which gave at fairly smooth ride.
I do believe that the electrical engineers from JAWA were related to the LUCAS family.
It had a magneto -generator set up which was troublesome, the current for the battery never seemed sufficient.
Many a time drove with no lights to get home only using the magneto side of the key.
As noted above this machine gave me lots of fun, and great service for two years OK a few minor problems.
Having an array of bikes, I don't think that we were ever out
with more than four at one time. Reliability was not in there
favour and since most of us attended school, parts & repairs
were not affordable.
Riding in those days we had our favorite destinations from center town.
Kelly’s Inn was located then at the top of Hunt Club bridge, which was the sandpits. (They sure knew how to
make hamburgers .)
Denishaws’ Foot long hot dog stand out past Blossom Park was a monthly visit. The area back then was a celery
field , just opposite now a plaza is so you have the site. Going by there at night you’d freeze , a jacket otherwise
was not needed .
Our hangout was either Minnies' (now Chuck Browns golf ) on Somerset & Percy, or the Olympia half a block
away.
The summer had just about come to the end. The Labor Day weekend was the last hurrah before heading back
to school that Tuesday.
"Let’s head for the Burg " someone says : so off we go, it’s Monday around one o'clock.(the Burg meaning
Ogdensburg )
This trip turned into a disaster - read on, Mac Duff .
Two Jawas, a Whizzer , a BSA 250 , and if I remember right, an old Harley.
Reached Ogdensburg after crossing by ferry from Prescott , yes a ferry …. no bridge for years to come.
Some of the thirsty lads headed for the nearest bar to consume a few beers. "Hey we got to head back, it's 4.30
and my Jaw’s head light is not working " Dennis spits out.
The diehards wanted a few more so Den, me and my back rider take off back to Canada before it gets too dark.
Back on old Highway 16 by 6.30 , we didn't count on the days light running out so early. Just outside of
Spencerville we see a cruiser coming in the opposite direction .
Speeding up didn't help it wasn't long that he was on our tails with the cherry flashing.
“Where's your lights ? How come there not on ? " he says, as mine has a short some place . My friend had a
gaping hole were a headlight shell should be.
Follow me was his instructions in the direction of Kemptville.
Man, it was pitch black before we even got there, 15 miles away.
Stopping his cruiser on the main drag in downtown Kemptville
He motions us over to a large garage, " put your bikes in there , and get back to Ottawa " with lots of authority in
his voice. Walk back to Ottawa at 8.00 at night?, forget it.
Called our parents said we'd be home in the morning, "you'd better be it’s the first day of registration ". they all
quoted.
That night we slept in a barn, my cousin, friend , and me. Boy, was it cold! Heading back up to the garage at
7.00 to get our bikes it was closed until 8.00.
The restaurant was open, we had 36 cents between us and the staff gave us three coffees and one order of
toast. I hated coffee, but I do say it sure was enjoyable that morning.
Back over to the garage Den’s bike has a flat , HMMMmm.?????
Fix it back on the road to Ottawa, knowing getting ready for school a must.
Around Carsonby, on Old highway 16 , the Jawa goes flat again. This time the tube is beyond repair so what now?
Bike is left standing next to the farmers garage and the three of us pile unto my Jawa.
Three you say ? Yes three, I'm up on the tank, one on the seat,
and one on the rear fender .
We proceed to Ottawa, and right at the city limits we run out of gas. No money a gas station in sight , we shove it
up to the pumps. Requesting a quarters worth of gas the attendant must have wondered where the other
motorcycle is.
After his reluctance to cough up , the negotiable item became my wallet which I would return after school that day
with the quarter .
Onward home, the amazing thing we got right to Centertown without been stopped for the craziness of three up.
P.S we were never charged by the OPP for riding with no lights.
A few short rides that fall put the end of the riding season
One cold night in March I 1955 drive up to the hangout., ready to go home I was not aware that it had snowed.
The high back restaurant booths prevented me from seeing outside. The crew thought this was a joke on me for
having my machine out first, so pay the price . (friendly bunch ).
With two feet down I managed to make it home without dropping it . Actually it was fun to Holland Ave….. Into the
garage for a couple of more weeks,
Nightly at 7.00 anxiously watched CBC`S Percy Salzmann’s weather report for a schnook to come along.
When you think back of driving apparel the black leather jacket was very expensive. Helmets were not laws, so
you drove around in the nice weather casuals. Jeans of course were invaluable just in case a road rash
occurring. My school leather jacket had JAWA painted across the back, which served the purpose at the time, hot
or cold I had it on.
The opposite sex for the motorcycle guy was not top priority, not saying we weren't looking.
Girls did not want to be associated with cycle types, or maybe they were pretending .?
What didn't help the image was brought on in spring of 1954 when the movie the "WILD ONE", been popular with
the young
Motorcycle buffs. Stan tells me it was banned in England when he was a young gaffer.
Marlon Brando was the pictures star which was shown at the Mayfair Theatre on Bank St.
Each showing must have had 100 bikes parked along the curb from scooters, English bikes to the big Harleys.
Well received by the young bloods, but it wasn't a movie the adults wanted their kids to see.
The movie introduced the cool look, at least we thought it was.
Black leather jacket , a white scarf , short peak cap, turned up jeans , and most of all the black engineers’ boots.
Pipe dreaming … for these items still out of financial reach for a short while.
School was out , we planned a trip around Lake Ontario with
five guys and four bikes at the end of June.
This was a trip we must have decided in ten minutes, or when your young go for the adventure.
Not even planning a route, or did we even have a map? Off we go towards Carleton Place…. Left down Highway
15 towards Smith Falls. ( I'm sure that took two hours ).
Two up on the 45 Harley I was riding beside them ," hey your carbs on fire " blurting out.
They both thought a joke… yehhhh . Not until the flame had singed my buddies arm did they stop. With a little
sand, and rag the fire was snuffed out……….. time for lunch.
Pressing on we made the new super highway the 401, what a mistake that was taking that route with motorcycles
that cruised no more than 45 mph.
The first night we slept on the side of the 401. Hey, when you’re tired, you can sleep anywhere as you will see. It
was later on that we found out when we woke up that we were near Brighton
Driving down to the park we thought "lets go for a swim" first the toe test…….WOW … Lake Ontario at that time
was freezing……. Pack that notion up in a hurry.
As we were leaving kicking the bike over to start it the engine was bouncing. Earlier my chum and I had a heated
discussion on the strength of the Jawa frame tubes compared to the small British down tubes.
The down tube had snapped away from the top gusset.
Humility had descended on yours truly quickly while pushing the bike to a local welding shop for a $2.00 repair.
While driving along the 401 with the wind, and sun beating down I hadn't noticed that my arms were burnt badly.
The rest of the trip a long sleeve sweater was required to prevent further pain.
That afternoon we were in the middle of Toronto on King ,…. hey it only took two days.
We were stopped a signal light, when we all noticed this rubby
leaning against the wall .
With no concern there he was scratching his balls through his baggy pants, while twenty or more waited to get on
the streetcar. This we have never seen back home in Ottawa, so it sure drew some laughs from us.
Later that night we made it to the fruit belt of Ontario, and time to crawl into that sleeping bag. Nobody had
realized with the fog the strange location area we camped in
We had bedded down in a graveyard on some Church property.
I was awake early, the minister brought us out a box of fresh cherries ,………for breakfast?
They sleep to I ate most of the cherries , boy were they good.
Pressing on we arrived in Hamilton that morning, then to Niagara Falls to spend the day sightseeing.
So far so good, we had no problems crossing the border, and from there headed for Rochester New York.
Beer was the favorite coolant for a few of the crew ,at the time Hull was there favorite place to go when you were
under age. Now that they were in this States ( drinking age then I believe was 19 years old.)……. its Miller time !
The funny thing one of the guys who gulped a few daily, they wouldn't serve him, the youngest of the bunch, no
issue. To top it all off the police chief was buying for us, … well he said he was the chief.
Three days later we arrive back home, all in one piece, tired sore ass , the bikes had come through for us
considering everything.
It was the most memorable trip on a motorcycle I have ever taken, for when you’re young … fun was the name of
the game.
With spring here one of our fringe riders had bought himself a Norton Model 7 , was it a beauty. He would lend it
out if you kept the gas full, this guy had more money than brains.
With the gang coming back from Spencerville on one of our jaunts the Norton was along. Oh he'd zoom off to
blow the carbon out, rejoining us down the road with wind tears on his face.
Wes, give your bike to Denny and hop on the back of the Norton with me. First time on the bike with power, down
old Highway 16 heading across the trestle bridge just outside Kemptville.
Hanging on for dear life we were air born at 70 miles an hour, what a ride that was.
To top it all off a few weeks later in May, one of my early riding buddies comes along with a Norton Deluxe 88.
What a beauty… polychromatic gray featherbed frame, pear shaped mufflers that gave an awesome sound as
you backed off the throttle …envy envy, envy, ENVY.
The owner looked like James Dean (hard rock) so he had it all. (Little did I realize at the time, in the fall the
Norton was to be mine).
Rock around the Clock was the top song for months , and the summer was here . Sunday afternoons we spent
going swimming along the Rideau, or working on our bikes to get to the Rideau to go swimming.
When I think back how nutso we were when passing on the center line with cars rushing by on each side of you.
Logically a
good reason….. you had reached the speed limit, why lose the momentum! Can you just hear what the car
drivers were saying as we scared the hell out of them going between them.
One of the funniest cases I ever had was when a chum -chums cottage became the destination this summer.
We were headed to the south side of Mississippi Lake , to avoid taking the main road he says "I know a short-
cut."
This meant we had to travel across a farmer's field that showed there was a road at one time.
As the gate was opened by one of our buddy riders, voice say "hold up there ". The landowner shouts.
Explaining we're going to a friends place on the other side of his land. He reluctantly gave in, making sure we
closed gates as we proceeded through.
The road was barely manageable, it was like a hilly meadow. As we putted along we were approaching a brush
thicket, and could see movement on the other side.
Well hell there must have been 30 young cows, which came running at us full gallop.
With nervous laughter, and trying to turn the bike around dropped my cousin on the ground, as well as the
machine.
The other rider says, " They don't scare me " so off he goes in the cows direction. At this time were back at the
starting point with the farmer looking at us with a big grin.
Because of the hill in front of us we couldn't see what was going on with the other cycle. Over the crest comes the
two of them full tilt screaming, and laughing at the same time.
After hopping the fence with one machine chugging on its side,
the farmer assures us that there only curious.
With much doubt we take off again with a little more throttle, and looking over our shoulder for another stampede
too happen.
After a mile of bumpy field, gate closing we arrive on the road to our friend's cottage. (What a story tale this
became.)
Not all things were rosy when out seeking adventures. I recall a drive with three of us driving to Cornwall , the
weather cloudy, though warm.
Dropped in to visit an old acquaintance, after a short stay decided better head for home it looked like rain.
Well it just didn't start to rain it turned really cold as we drove old Number 2 along the St. Lawrence. We pulled
into a graveyard for the entrance had a huge arch, which provided some protection from the weather. (A note of
interest it is now under water been part of the seaway.)
The 350 twin Jawa wasn't running so well ( If it ever did at any time )
Bernie the owner says " to hell with it lets leave the bikes, and take a bus home, I have the money "sounds good
to me was the response. Placing the bikes on the inside of the fence, we waited for a Colonial Bus going to
Ottawa to come along.
The thought of someone stealing our machines was last thing on our minds, thinking back to those years it was
not rampant like it is today .
It was dark when the bus was seen coming down the road. Flagging it down it was one bus ride I cherished
hugging the seat trying to get warm.
Summer was winding down, and I had made the decision not to return back to school. Loblaws were giving
enough hour's part time hours hopefully to get on full time soon.
My friend, who owned the Norton Deluxe, his mother always shopped in the market where I worked.
Like a voice from heaven says " why don't you buy my sons Norton, he rarely drives it! "…(She never liked it
anyway.)
It seems that he was getting into Hot Rods, and the machine was not been used.
That night after work like a flash I went over to see him. He claims he lost interest, and he would sell it to me for $
425.00
Problem was since this all happened so fast, not even thinking
of a larger cycle till I got on full time, money , money ,was the issue. A financial arrangement with him became
unbelievable, we had been friends so it helped.
A friend indeed for years I thanked him for selling me the Norton for $10.00 bucks a week (one third of my salary).
Selling my Jawa for $80.00 gave that down for a deposit, with an understanding that I would not drive it until paid
off.
Yes that was my commitment to him, so the OTC from Oct. March was my main chauffeur.
You talk about wanting something bad enough, before going on full time my wages were about $28.00 a week or
a buck an hour.
Budgeting skills came early in my life $10.00 for bike, rent $10.00, and what hours booked over twenty was my
spending money.
After Christmas- New Years, my hours fluctuated … some weeks down to 21 hours very broke times. Full time
came in March, the Norton was paid off in April, things were great.
England’s finest - last days of riding.
During that of the 1956 winter we formed, the STMC which stood for the Saddle Tramp Motorcycle Club.
Hey had the bucks, guys were getting
Newer British machines, Triumphs,
BSA 500`s, Norton's ,Harleys one was left.
Now came the black jacket with our logo
On the shoulder …….scary , scary stuff.
Engineers' boots, hat ?, naw, the duck tail
haircut was in style , can't mess that
up. Brylcreem did big sales during those
years , or vaseline, real dust catchers.
That April the Norton is out for her maiden test, and heading out to Bells Corners Hwy. 7, it was quiet in those
days.
Down the road through the gears 1st ..30 mph ..second….45,
third …60…down into fourth …..ddduuuuhhhh 65 mph full
out. (this is with 2 up ).
Kick the passenger off re-test …sadly flat out 66mph. My troubles had just began the short version of issues I will
note.
Mind you the previous owner was told that the oil seal in magneto was shot. (too much oil in the there).
Remember this, the following months my pay was going to funding the issue.
English Motors in Vanier ( then Eastview ) was my source for sorting problems ??? Bob Hurrey was the chief
mechanic at the time , he was qualified but you will see he was stumped.
Compression a little low, let's do rings , valve job ,and break it in right ………800 miles later ….still slow!
Change carb , richen the mixture , new points re-time ……still slow!
I kept insisting that a Vincent owner stated that there was too much oil in mag. " They all have that problem "
always reiterated…NOTE THIS PLEASE.
After many bucks, ( they gave me a break on some costs ), and frustration on the shops part ,they some what
gave up ."
" Bert Irwin in Cornwall races, he should be able to help you ",
…talk about your shuffle off too Buffalo !
Early June drives the bike down to Cornwall with a friend that had a Model 7 Norton. Pulls up to a dingy shop on
the out skirts of town tell them about with my problem. The mechanic pulls off the timing cover, and I think
changes the valve timing slightly.
" Try that it could be your problem " he says, been mechanically green smile, and whisk it down the road for a
blast.
The engine is overheating, slower than ever, return to the shop not very pleased. "You'll have to leave it so we
can check it more thoroughly, we'll get back to you to advise on the problem ," they say concerned.
Back to Ottawa on the other Norton, it was not a day for a big hurrah for the marquee Norton.
What in hell did I buy, here it is nearly the 1ST of July a muscle machine in my name, when does the fun start??
Shop calls " you have bent camshaft, we have one in stock, give the OK you'll have the machine in a week ". That’
s nice they have only had it for a month.
What choice did I have? , get the work done with a price tag of $75.00…..$750.00 in to-days money.
Thanks to me gramps he sprung a loan…. The Norton was homeward bound with final advice take it easy for the
first 200 miles. Later in the story I'm assuming that this work was not done, but it was just one of those no proof
things.
Two Hundred miles later with loving care the time of judgement for this great looking machine.
Please have pity on me, top end 67 mph…… that’s it I'm pulling off that magneto and started searching for the
manual .
Remove the magneto, carefully take it apart, clean it up spotless. The mag was nearly floating in oil, the seal was
a little hard, and I threw the timing off when removing the case.
Bob Hurrey even though he loved to swear at me, treated me like a friend in his own way.
He lived about 2 miles from me so I call him at home. “Bob , Brian here will you come down to the house to time
the Norton.? " With an array of choice words he was there in 15 minutes.
Bob’s pride was not hurt since he knew the shop in Cornwall
did not find the problem either…( but it would be ).
Tackling this job was a piece of cake for him, within the half hour it was done.
Carb primed a quick kick, a new bike was born; the exhaust out of those mufflers nearly blew the garage doors
open.
A new magneto SEAL was ordered, this man showed humility, and replaced it NO Charge.
It was the last time one of my motorcycles was taken to a repair shop, in the future I would do it myself.
With half the summer gone had to make up the riding time, now my friends Norton sprocket was finished. We take
off for Lake Placid on my Norton right after work Saturday night, we sleep on the side of the road above Saranac
Lake. ( wouldn't do that to-day ).
My buddy like to sleep in, roughing it whatever, to me test time again to see what this sucker can do.
As I sat warming up the motor , weather was right, road was straight and the moment of truth raises its head
again.
Down the road I go for a mile, turn around flat out on tank come roaring by sleepy boy sitting up looking at me ,
the clock noting 108 mph. He must have heard me coming with those mufflers screaming.
This was my happy day the bike was a runner at last.
Now I wasn’t one to drink compared to the character I was with, that afternoon just outside of Lake Placid we pull
into a road side bar.
Drinks were bought by the good ole boys knowing we were Canadians…. figure.
Smashed would not be the word by darkness, how we ventured back home (has yet to be reviewed, I think we
covered five miles )to sleep it off on the side off the road again.
State trooper pulls up looks at our state " we want no trouble, hear me? " and takes off into the black pitch of
night.!
Suffering all the way home back to Ottawa the next day I never drank again for 5 months.
Rivalries seemed to show their ugly head more so than when we were driving smaller units.
Which bike was best, fastest, more reliable seemed to be on going in most cases pulling each others chain.
One Sunday we are out on the Century road ( old 16 ) a few miles past Manotick. Den with his 500 Triumph
challenges my roommate Bob with his Triumph 650 Tiger110.
The flag is dropped the 500 is off leaving the 650 slightly behind and it missing badly. Bob didn't have the driving
experience, and only putted around on such a big machine.
He says to me "take it for a spin to sort the problem ".
Hell, I knew the problem, it was only carbonned up.
Screaming off the line working it max through the gears it seems to clean up missing after 80.
" Try it now " I yell to him on returning, and off he goes pouring it on till we cannot see him, for the road was hilly
in some areas.
This guy was slight, 150 lbs soaking wet, comes flying buy us about 70 mph, when he goes into a speed wobble.
The bike bounces from side to side hitting the road, the saddle bags must have saved him ,for he should have
been badly injured or killed.
The swing arm pivot pin was in need of replacement we discovered after the crash.
Wearing a sweater, light jeans he had a road rash that was
Horrible His back, legs , arms were like raw meat , and his face pure white in color.
Small but tough, we bring him to a doctor in Manotick, then home to recover with terrible pain. I know…. we
shared the same room when he was living with my parents.
He never drove again his heart wasn't into it, for he loved his sports, and saw what could happen on these toys.
One of the crew bought the Triumph, and for some reason my machine was waiting for a part what ever. We
buddy ride up to Clayton Lake to snorkel around, maybe spear a few fish or two if were lucky. Stayed all night in
a rented cottage the next morning it's pouring out no rain gear.
Now vision this scenario, my friend requests I drive, his first bike no rain driving experience.
Take off with the rain pouring down, my blue suede jacket is soaked no helmet means no visor. So there I am
wiping my glasses constantly, a brainstorm pull over to the side, pull out my double snorkel diving mask.
When we reach the city even in the rain people were pointing seeing us with our masks on.
To say the least we were soaked my skin had a nice blue hue to it for the next week or so.
Reflecting back accidents were minimal, the trauma above was one of the worst in our group. Jim Boone whom I
rode with occasionally, ended up in hospital for months after hitting a panel truck which went through on the red.
A few scrapes for me when I flew over the handlebars on Bank St. for a few yards. A car pulled out from the curb
in a heavy rainstorm, the wet pavement actually allowed me to slide rather than tumble along. St. Christopher was
with me that day for I landed on the opposite lane.
The long weekend of September a ride to famous Ogdensburg NY had been planned for a couple of weeks.
Unfortunately the Triumph 500 went up in flames on Somerset St. right in front of the fire Dept. It couldn't be
saved, another machine gone from the club. Actually there weren’t that many STMC guys left.
Dick on his 500 Norton, and with my Norton ,head off for the day .The weather great when we cross to USA a
tavern was the first and only stop for Dicks passion , but only for a couple. ………..SURE.!
Heading back over the ferry a neighbor is going home on his 350 Enfield "join up with us " I said. This didn't set
well, for my friend wanted to fly home, and this guy was putting along.
So off he goes heading up towards home I could see him on the crest of the hills, so he was in a hurry.
Meantime a Colonial Bus passes us billowing out diesel smoke like a steam engine.
Just passed Spencerville, we could see more black smoke, thinking that the bus is due for an overhaul.
Half way up the next hill is my friend’s Norton in the middle of the road with a flame 20-ft. high in the air. It had spit
back out the carb which he hadn't noticed until his jacket started to shrink. ( I wondered if he was still hammered
till this day ).
The engine was the only salvageable piece left .
The demise of our group had arrived with the new car designs in 55 meant the 49`s - to early 50`s were a
reasonable price to buy
and lots were available. By the end of summer ’56, only one of the old gang left , Le auto had won out.
The crew was now finding girls were a better substitute than hanging around a bunch of throttle rollers. I was the
last link or nut to hang on until late September the Norton was up for sale.
Within a week my Norton pride, and joy was sold for $400.00, going towards a down payment for a Triumph TR2
car.
The following year my favorite Norton motorcycle went up in smoke…sad.
In looking back on those years I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Having that freedom to go where you
want, and when you wanted, not having to count on someone, made my teenage years countable for my lifetime.
Returned to motorcycling again in May 9 1974 riding a 1972 Norton,
then 1975 850 .Yes still riding to-day, ….but you can't recover the past only think of it…… smiling.
This article has been written for those who are toilet trained , and can read.
Brian Wigmore April 13 2000
This reflects on special moments during my teenage riding years in the fifties. Story unfolds with my first
motorbike, and running with some characters, to the semi-final days of biking in 1956. (Resumed in 1974.)
Those years gave me fond memories of having the freedom to take off and cruise Ottawa with riding my buddies.
ENGLAND'S CORGI.
It was February 1952 and having just turned 15 years old the furthest thing from my mind was to own motorized
wheels.
My father was a policeman who worked out of #1 Station. It was on the site of the National Arts Centre (NAC),
adjacent to it was the Fire Department where my grandfather served as Captain in the early 1900’s.
As the family was sitting down for supper, the topic rose by my dad "There's a small scooter down in the holding
area, do you think you'd like it" he mumbled. A machine so I can get around on “WOW," with full gear enthusiasm
I blurted out.
He says he'll check out the ownership, and unfortunately the party that owned it was killed the scooter survived
with minor damage. After contacting the family and paying the purchase price of $10.00 I was now the proud
owner of a 98cc Corgi.
With the paper work completed in a day or so, we place it in the back of my dad's 39 Olds. And head for home
from the police station, with great excitement.
I do believe my father was like a big kid that evening, as we unloaded this tiny machine.
The side walks on Maclaren St. were ice to bare, and to start the Corgi it had to be pushed to get it running.
Who goes first?? You guessed it my dad, shoving it down the sidewalk till it putts into action. Here's a man 6`4
straddling this scooter, grinning from ear to ear as he passes me by on the sidewalk numerous times.
.
Come to think of it I don't remember having a turn that evening. It was put away until spring.
With an early spring thaw out came the Corgi. Some of you ask what the hell a Corgi is.
They were used by the paratroopers in the Second World War,
I don't think they were that successful. After the war they were re-painted maroon & black and a small little
headlight sat above the front fender.
They looked similar to a Honda scooter, a low frame, and 12 inch wheels .I believe Stan Johnson has a picture of
one.
Hey I was driving everywhere around Ottawa, great for going to school, and to my job selling papers at the
Jackson Building.
One of the problems the oil had to be mixed with the gas, and failing to mix it right they would carbon badly.
Exhaust port would clog up, and the Corgi would only try to start. It must have controlled my weight, for running to
get it started became a pastime.
A school chum also had one it would really go for its size, for the owner he was a little chunky at the time. Telling
him my tale of woe he says clean out the exhaust ports…OK!
Hey I was lucky if I could put a chain back on a bicycle.
So the head is removed, and not knowing what I was looking for I could not see the exhaust ports. They were
filled solid with carbon so running a coat hanger back and forth into the exhaust hole in head out pops a chunk of
carbon, ahh hah that’s what it looks like.!
Back together it ran well, but I was having problems with the spokes in the rear wheel, the newer models had disk
wheels.
So a decision to sell it when somebody wanted to buy it, I set my sights for a larger cycle.
Unfortunately no funds for a machine the balance of the year. A job was now required that paid decent money
part time for the reality of new wheels to come true.
Seeing a Corgi scooter even to this day in books wherever, I know it gave me the bug for future years in
motorcycling.
Czechoslovakia's Finest 125 CZ & 250 CZ.
Selling the scooter meant my sights were on a bigger c.c. cycle. My job came to an end selling newspapers, so
the rest of the summer…. back to the CCM.
One of my friends had purchased a new 125 CZ, he would let me sit on it, and drool knowing how much I wanted
to take it for a spin.
Dreams I had, but not been sixteen, no license, machine had to wait until spring of 1953
Testing ones memory of 47 years ago, for the life of me I could not remember where I purchased the 125 CZ.
Only that it was
In the time frame of May 1953, Mom lent me $85.00 after landing a job in Loblaws.
Just like Jim Hunter noted in last years newspaper article… his mother didn't mind a motorcycle around the house.
The CZ was a reliable make, my cousin who was on the back most of the time, till this day says “it was sure fun
going here and there, even with the assorted crises.
One day I drove up to the West End, picked him up, and took off for a ride.
We no sooner left his place than his foot slipped off the back shock and into the spokes.
Bad enough he took out three spokes, and ended up with a warped wheel. He was wearing a brand new pair of
shoes it took the heel right off. (He got his words when he got home).
Much of the time I wandered, around the city, and visiting a friend whose summer home was out past Kars.
As you left the village back then, it turned to a dirt road, and the first time to ride on gravel.
Well I wish there were a camera mounted to my bike, for as I rounded the first curve it started to slide.
Now picture this …… people out sitting on their chairs on there front lawn with a motorcycle heading off the road
in there direction.
During the moments trying to force it back to the road, I believe I was more scared then they were. Without
missing a beat and with dust following… into the ditch up on their lawn and back to the road hanging on for dear
life.
I couldn't quite hear what they were yelling at me as I continued down the road.
Another Sunday's misfortune coming back along the river road near Osgoode, dammit punctures on the rear
wheel.
We pushed the machine 2 miles to the main street garage in downtown wonderful Osgoode. The good ole boys
were poking a few back, and we asked for help in patching the tube.
Hey they were helpful to a point, in checking the tube it had it, …… now getting home was the issue.
"You boys from Ottawa " one of the guys asked? "Yes we are " we politely reply.
" Don't worry, I’m leaving soon, give ya a ride back."
The sun was shining that afternoon when he made that statement, we finally got on our way at 10 o'clock that
evening.
As we got into the booze wagon ( a 1951 Packard Clipper ) he peels off the main drag in the direction of home.
Scared???, dam right this guy had gone past the phrase "seven sheets to the wind ", and I am not sure if his
wheels touched the ground all the way to Ottawa ! He was clocking at least 90 most of the way, and when he
dropped us off at Carling -Preston, I doubt if he knew that we got out.
The summer `53 was coming to a close, back to school was in order. Around this time I met up with some center
town guys on the way to school also getting into motorcycling.
What a mishmash of machines these guys had purchased,
a 45 Harley or Hardly able as we poked fun at him. BSA 250 cc good little bike, a 74 Harley it sure had a
comfortable seat.! A Royal Enfield 350 was on hand, but I don't think it every saw the road , a Whizzer …wow,
…….. plus a 125 cc Excelsior.
The only new bike was a 250 cc Indian which was made in England (looked like a Royal Enfield ). It was mainly
yellow
We all know what this color means …….. LEMON.
We started to hang around, going to local hangouts till the cooler weather set in, riding was finished for 1953.
CZECH. 250 cc JAWA .
April of 1954, browsing the newspaper, came across a Jawa 250cc for sale $125.00.
Don't laugh that wasn't cheap when the average guy just out of school was earning $30 -40.00 a week full time .
Went to look at it … Clemow Ave. no less, I just had to have it.
Action stations -For Sale CZ125, good condition, $125.00. A guy from school was hooked .
You wouldn't believe what happened the next morning bringing the bike to school for the sale.
Those years Ottawa Tech, which was bounded by Slater at that time had a stop at Bay.
Coming along Bay heading north having the right of way, I heard this Hydro truck squealing his tires, trying to
stop sliding into the intersection.
Whamo, smack, right into the rear wheel well of the truck, and not even falling. The CZ wasn't as lucky it had a
bent fork and some minor scratches………was I pissed off.
To top it all off who investigates the accident? My father! The truck was in the wrong and a report has to be made.
Sure he was glad that yours truly wasn't hurt , but what about my bike.??.
To this day I always wondered what happened to that report!
Skipped school to head off to the cycle shop at Charles Ogilvy’s.
This guy could repair anything. Picked up a used fork leg , tear back down in order for the sale later that day. (
whehhh ).
Later that week I was the owner of a Jawa in quite good shape.
This machine during those riding years was the most fun , and the experiences have not been forgotten as you
read on.
For its time the Jawa 250 was quite unique, compared to a British bike of the same year they were more modern.
Mind you the twin pipe two strokes was not the best sounding unit around.
They had a system integrated into the clutch mechanism that you did not have to pull in the clutch to shift from
1st. to second , to third. Front & rear shocks, which gave at fairly smooth ride.
I do believe that the electrical engineers from JAWA were related to the LUCAS family.
It had a magneto -generator set up which was troublesome, the current for the battery never seemed sufficient.
Many a time drove with no lights to get home only using the magneto side of the key.
As noted above this machine gave me lots of fun, and great service for two years OK a few minor problems.
Having an array of bikes, I don't think that we were ever out
with more than four at one time. Reliability was not in there
favour and since most of us attended school, parts & repairs
were not affordable.
Riding in those days we had our favorite destinations from center town.
Kelly’s Inn was located then at the top of Hunt Club bridge, which was the sandpits. (They sure knew how to
make hamburgers .)
Denishaws’ Foot long hot dog stand out past Blossom Park was a monthly visit. The area back then was a celery
field , just opposite now a plaza is so you have the site. Going by there at night you’d freeze , a jacket otherwise
was not needed .
Our hangout was either Minnies' (now Chuck Browns golf ) on Somerset & Percy, or the Olympia half a block
away.
The summer had just about come to the end. The Labor Day weekend was the last hurrah before heading back
to school that Tuesday.
"Let’s head for the Burg " someone says : so off we go, it’s Monday around one o'clock.(the Burg meaning
Ogdensburg )
This trip turned into a disaster - read on, Mac Duff .
Two Jawas, a Whizzer , a BSA 250 , and if I remember right, an old Harley.
Reached Ogdensburg after crossing by ferry from Prescott , yes a ferry …. no bridge for years to come.
Some of the thirsty lads headed for the nearest bar to consume a few beers. "Hey we got to head back, it's 4.30
and my Jaw’s head light is not working " Dennis spits out.
The diehards wanted a few more so Den, me and my back rider take off back to Canada before it gets too dark.
Back on old Highway 16 by 6.30 , we didn't count on the days light running out so early. Just outside of
Spencerville we see a cruiser coming in the opposite direction .
Speeding up didn't help it wasn't long that he was on our tails with the cherry flashing.
“Where's your lights ? How come there not on ? " he says, as mine has a short some place . My friend had a
gaping hole were a headlight shell should be.
Follow me was his instructions in the direction of Kemptville.
Man, it was pitch black before we even got there, 15 miles away.
Stopping his cruiser on the main drag in downtown Kemptville
He motions us over to a large garage, " put your bikes in there , and get back to Ottawa " with lots of authority in
his voice. Walk back to Ottawa at 8.00 at night?, forget it.
Called our parents said we'd be home in the morning, "you'd better be it’s the first day of registration ". they all
quoted.
That night we slept in a barn, my cousin, friend , and me. Boy, was it cold! Heading back up to the garage at
7.00 to get our bikes it was closed until 8.00.
The restaurant was open, we had 36 cents between us and the staff gave us three coffees and one order of
toast. I hated coffee, but I do say it sure was enjoyable that morning.
Back over to the garage Den’s bike has a flat , HMMMmm.?????
Fix it back on the road to Ottawa, knowing getting ready for school a must.
Around Carsonby, on Old highway 16 , the Jawa goes flat again. This time the tube is beyond repair so what now?
Bike is left standing next to the farmers garage and the three of us pile unto my Jawa.
Three you say ? Yes three, I'm up on the tank, one on the seat,
and one on the rear fender .
We proceed to Ottawa, and right at the city limits we run out of gas. No money a gas station in sight , we shove it
up to the pumps. Requesting a quarters worth of gas the attendant must have wondered where the other
motorcycle is.
After his reluctance to cough up , the negotiable item became my wallet which I would return after school that day
with the quarter .
Onward home, the amazing thing we got right to Centertown without been stopped for the craziness of three up.
P.S we were never charged by the OPP for riding with no lights.
A few short rides that fall put the end of the riding season
One cold night in March I 1955 drive up to the hangout., ready to go home I was not aware that it had snowed.
The high back restaurant booths prevented me from seeing outside. The crew thought this was a joke on me for
having my machine out first, so pay the price . (friendly bunch ).
With two feet down I managed to make it home without dropping it . Actually it was fun to Holland Ave….. Into the
garage for a couple of more weeks,
Nightly at 7.00 anxiously watched CBC`S Percy Salzmann’s weather report for a schnook to come along.
When you think back of driving apparel the black leather jacket was very expensive. Helmets were not laws, so
you drove around in the nice weather casuals. Jeans of course were invaluable just in case a road rash
occurring. My school leather jacket had JAWA painted across the back, which served the purpose at the time, hot
or cold I had it on.
The opposite sex for the motorcycle guy was not top priority, not saying we weren't looking.
Girls did not want to be associated with cycle types, or maybe they were pretending .?
What didn't help the image was brought on in spring of 1954 when the movie the "WILD ONE", been popular with
the young
Motorcycle buffs. Stan tells me it was banned in England when he was a young gaffer.
Marlon Brando was the pictures star which was shown at the Mayfair Theatre on Bank St.
Each showing must have had 100 bikes parked along the curb from scooters, English bikes to the big Harleys.
Well received by the young bloods, but it wasn't a movie the adults wanted their kids to see.
The movie introduced the cool look, at least we thought it was.
Black leather jacket , a white scarf , short peak cap, turned up jeans , and most of all the black engineers’ boots.
Pipe dreaming … for these items still out of financial reach for a short while.
School was out , we planned a trip around Lake Ontario with
five guys and four bikes at the end of June.
This was a trip we must have decided in ten minutes, or when your young go for the adventure.
Not even planning a route, or did we even have a map? Off we go towards Carleton Place…. Left down Highway
15 towards Smith Falls. ( I'm sure that took two hours ).
Two up on the 45 Harley I was riding beside them ," hey your carbs on fire " blurting out.
They both thought a joke… yehhhh . Not until the flame had singed my buddies arm did they stop. With a little
sand, and rag the fire was snuffed out……….. time for lunch.
Pressing on we made the new super highway the 401, what a mistake that was taking that route with motorcycles
that cruised no more than 45 mph.
The first night we slept on the side of the 401. Hey, when you’re tired, you can sleep anywhere as you will see. It
was later on that we found out when we woke up that we were near Brighton
Driving down to the park we thought "lets go for a swim" first the toe test…….WOW … Lake Ontario at that time
was freezing……. Pack that notion up in a hurry.
As we were leaving kicking the bike over to start it the engine was bouncing. Earlier my chum and I had a heated
discussion on the strength of the Jawa frame tubes compared to the small British down tubes.
The down tube had snapped away from the top gusset.
Humility had descended on yours truly quickly while pushing the bike to a local welding shop for a $2.00 repair.
While driving along the 401 with the wind, and sun beating down I hadn't noticed that my arms were burnt badly.
The rest of the trip a long sleeve sweater was required to prevent further pain.
That afternoon we were in the middle of Toronto on King ,…. hey it only took two days.
We were stopped a signal light, when we all noticed this rubby
leaning against the wall .
With no concern there he was scratching his balls through his baggy pants, while twenty or more waited to get on
the streetcar. This we have never seen back home in Ottawa, so it sure drew some laughs from us.
Later that night we made it to the fruit belt of Ontario, and time to crawl into that sleeping bag. Nobody had
realized with the fog the strange location area we camped in
We had bedded down in a graveyard on some Church property.
I was awake early, the minister brought us out a box of fresh cherries ,………for breakfast?
They sleep to I ate most of the cherries , boy were they good.
Pressing on we arrived in Hamilton that morning, then to Niagara Falls to spend the day sightseeing.
So far so good, we had no problems crossing the border, and from there headed for Rochester New York.
Beer was the favorite coolant for a few of the crew ,at the time Hull was there favorite place to go when you were
under age. Now that they were in this States ( drinking age then I believe was 19 years old.)……. its Miller time !
The funny thing one of the guys who gulped a few daily, they wouldn't serve him, the youngest of the bunch, no
issue. To top it all off the police chief was buying for us, … well he said he was the chief.
Three days later we arrive back home, all in one piece, tired sore ass , the bikes had come through for us
considering everything.
It was the most memorable trip on a motorcycle I have ever taken, for when you’re young … fun was the name of
the game.
With spring here one of our fringe riders had bought himself a Norton Model 7 , was it a beauty. He would lend it
out if you kept the gas full, this guy had more money than brains.
With the gang coming back from Spencerville on one of our jaunts the Norton was along. Oh he'd zoom off to
blow the carbon out, rejoining us down the road with wind tears on his face.
Wes, give your bike to Denny and hop on the back of the Norton with me. First time on the bike with power, down
old Highway 16 heading across the trestle bridge just outside Kemptville.
Hanging on for dear life we were air born at 70 miles an hour, what a ride that was.
To top it all off a few weeks later in May, one of my early riding buddies comes along with a Norton Deluxe 88.
What a beauty… polychromatic gray featherbed frame, pear shaped mufflers that gave an awesome sound as
you backed off the throttle …envy envy, envy, ENVY.
The owner looked like James Dean (hard rock) so he had it all. (Little did I realize at the time, in the fall the
Norton was to be mine).
Rock around the Clock was the top song for months , and the summer was here . Sunday afternoons we spent
going swimming along the Rideau, or working on our bikes to get to the Rideau to go swimming.
When I think back how nutso we were when passing on the center line with cars rushing by on each side of you.
Logically a
good reason….. you had reached the speed limit, why lose the momentum! Can you just hear what the car
drivers were saying as we scared the hell out of them going between them.
One of the funniest cases I ever had was when a chum -chums cottage became the destination this summer.
We were headed to the south side of Mississippi Lake , to avoid taking the main road he says "I know a short-
cut."
This meant we had to travel across a farmer's field that showed there was a road at one time.
As the gate was opened by one of our buddy riders, voice say "hold up there ". The landowner shouts.
Explaining we're going to a friends place on the other side of his land. He reluctantly gave in, making sure we
closed gates as we proceeded through.
The road was barely manageable, it was like a hilly meadow. As we putted along we were approaching a brush
thicket, and could see movement on the other side.
Well hell there must have been 30 young cows, which came running at us full gallop.
With nervous laughter, and trying to turn the bike around dropped my cousin on the ground, as well as the
machine.
The other rider says, " They don't scare me " so off he goes in the cows direction. At this time were back at the
starting point with the farmer looking at us with a big grin.
Because of the hill in front of us we couldn't see what was going on with the other cycle. Over the crest comes the
two of them full tilt screaming, and laughing at the same time.
After hopping the fence with one machine chugging on its side,
the farmer assures us that there only curious.
With much doubt we take off again with a little more throttle, and looking over our shoulder for another stampede
too happen.
After a mile of bumpy field, gate closing we arrive on the road to our friend's cottage. (What a story tale this
became.)
Not all things were rosy when out seeking adventures. I recall a drive with three of us driving to Cornwall , the
weather cloudy, though warm.
Dropped in to visit an old acquaintance, after a short stay decided better head for home it looked like rain.
Well it just didn't start to rain it turned really cold as we drove old Number 2 along the St. Lawrence. We pulled
into a graveyard for the entrance had a huge arch, which provided some protection from the weather. (A note of
interest it is now under water been part of the seaway.)
The 350 twin Jawa wasn't running so well ( If it ever did at any time )
Bernie the owner says " to hell with it lets leave the bikes, and take a bus home, I have the money "sounds good
to me was the response. Placing the bikes on the inside of the fence, we waited for a Colonial Bus going to
Ottawa to come along.
The thought of someone stealing our machines was last thing on our minds, thinking back to those years it was
not rampant like it is today .
It was dark when the bus was seen coming down the road. Flagging it down it was one bus ride I cherished
hugging the seat trying to get warm.
Summer was winding down, and I had made the decision not to return back to school. Loblaws were giving
enough hour's part time hours hopefully to get on full time soon.
My friend, who owned the Norton Deluxe, his mother always shopped in the market where I worked.
Like a voice from heaven says " why don't you buy my sons Norton, he rarely drives it! "…(She never liked it
anyway.)
It seems that he was getting into Hot Rods, and the machine was not been used.
That night after work like a flash I went over to see him. He claims he lost interest, and he would sell it to me for $
425.00
Problem was since this all happened so fast, not even thinking
of a larger cycle till I got on full time, money , money ,was the issue. A financial arrangement with him became
unbelievable, we had been friends so it helped.
A friend indeed for years I thanked him for selling me the Norton for $10.00 bucks a week (one third of my salary).
Selling my Jawa for $80.00 gave that down for a deposit, with an understanding that I would not drive it until paid
off.
Yes that was my commitment to him, so the OTC from Oct. March was my main chauffeur.
You talk about wanting something bad enough, before going on full time my wages were about $28.00 a week or
a buck an hour.
Budgeting skills came early in my life $10.00 for bike, rent $10.00, and what hours booked over twenty was my
spending money.
After Christmas- New Years, my hours fluctuated … some weeks down to 21 hours very broke times. Full time
came in March, the Norton was paid off in April, things were great.
England’s finest - last days of riding.
During that of the 1956 winter we formed, the STMC which stood for the Saddle Tramp Motorcycle Club.
Hey had the bucks, guys were getting
Newer British machines, Triumphs,
BSA 500`s, Norton's ,Harleys one was left.
Now came the black jacket with our logo
On the shoulder …….scary , scary stuff.
Engineers' boots, hat ?, naw, the duck tail
haircut was in style , can't mess that
up. Brylcreem did big sales during those
years , or vaseline, real dust catchers.
That April the Norton is out for her maiden test, and heading out to Bells Corners Hwy. 7, it was quiet in those
days.
Down the road through the gears 1st ..30 mph ..second….45,
third …60…down into fourth …..ddduuuuhhhh 65 mph full
out. (this is with 2 up ).
Kick the passenger off re-test …sadly flat out 66mph. My troubles had just began the short version of issues I will
note.
Mind you the previous owner was told that the oil seal in magneto was shot. (too much oil in the there).
Remember this, the following months my pay was going to funding the issue.
English Motors in Vanier ( then Eastview ) was my source for sorting problems ??? Bob Hurrey was the chief
mechanic at the time , he was qualified but you will see he was stumped.
Compression a little low, let's do rings , valve job ,and break it in right ………800 miles later ….still slow!
Change carb , richen the mixture , new points re-time ……still slow!
I kept insisting that a Vincent owner stated that there was too much oil in mag. " They all have that problem "
always reiterated…NOTE THIS PLEASE.
After many bucks, ( they gave me a break on some costs ), and frustration on the shops part ,they some what
gave up ."
" Bert Irwin in Cornwall races, he should be able to help you ",
…talk about your shuffle off too Buffalo !
Early June drives the bike down to Cornwall with a friend that had a Model 7 Norton. Pulls up to a dingy shop on
the out skirts of town tell them about with my problem. The mechanic pulls off the timing cover, and I think
changes the valve timing slightly.
" Try that it could be your problem " he says, been mechanically green smile, and whisk it down the road for a
blast.
The engine is overheating, slower than ever, return to the shop not very pleased. "You'll have to leave it so we
can check it more thoroughly, we'll get back to you to advise on the problem ," they say concerned.
Back to Ottawa on the other Norton, it was not a day for a big hurrah for the marquee Norton.
What in hell did I buy, here it is nearly the 1ST of July a muscle machine in my name, when does the fun start??
Shop calls " you have bent camshaft, we have one in stock, give the OK you'll have the machine in a week ". That’
s nice they have only had it for a month.
What choice did I have? , get the work done with a price tag of $75.00…..$750.00 in to-days money.
Thanks to me gramps he sprung a loan…. The Norton was homeward bound with final advice take it easy for the
first 200 miles. Later in the story I'm assuming that this work was not done, but it was just one of those no proof
things.
Two Hundred miles later with loving care the time of judgement for this great looking machine.
Please have pity on me, top end 67 mph…… that’s it I'm pulling off that magneto and started searching for the
manual .
Remove the magneto, carefully take it apart, clean it up spotless. The mag was nearly floating in oil, the seal was
a little hard, and I threw the timing off when removing the case.
Bob Hurrey even though he loved to swear at me, treated me like a friend in his own way.
He lived about 2 miles from me so I call him at home. “Bob , Brian here will you come down to the house to time
the Norton.? " With an array of choice words he was there in 15 minutes.
Bob’s pride was not hurt since he knew the shop in Cornwall
did not find the problem either…( but it would be ).
Tackling this job was a piece of cake for him, within the half hour it was done.
Carb primed a quick kick, a new bike was born; the exhaust out of those mufflers nearly blew the garage doors
open.
A new magneto SEAL was ordered, this man showed humility, and replaced it NO Charge.
It was the last time one of my motorcycles was taken to a repair shop, in the future I would do it myself.
With half the summer gone had to make up the riding time, now my friends Norton sprocket was finished. We take
off for Lake Placid on my Norton right after work Saturday night, we sleep on the side of the road above Saranac
Lake. ( wouldn't do that to-day ).
My buddy like to sleep in, roughing it whatever, to me test time again to see what this sucker can do.
As I sat warming up the motor , weather was right, road was straight and the moment of truth raises its head
again.
Down the road I go for a mile, turn around flat out on tank come roaring by sleepy boy sitting up looking at me ,
the clock noting 108 mph. He must have heard me coming with those mufflers screaming.
This was my happy day the bike was a runner at last.
Now I wasn’t one to drink compared to the character I was with, that afternoon just outside of Lake Placid we pull
into a road side bar.
Drinks were bought by the good ole boys knowing we were Canadians…. figure.
Smashed would not be the word by darkness, how we ventured back home (has yet to be reviewed, I think we
covered five miles )to sleep it off on the side off the road again.
State trooper pulls up looks at our state " we want no trouble, hear me? " and takes off into the black pitch of
night.!
Suffering all the way home back to Ottawa the next day I never drank again for 5 months.
Rivalries seemed to show their ugly head more so than when we were driving smaller units.
Which bike was best, fastest, more reliable seemed to be on going in most cases pulling each others chain.
One Sunday we are out on the Century road ( old 16 ) a few miles past Manotick. Den with his 500 Triumph
challenges my roommate Bob with his Triumph 650 Tiger110.
The flag is dropped the 500 is off leaving the 650 slightly behind and it missing badly. Bob didn't have the driving
experience, and only putted around on such a big machine.
He says to me "take it for a spin to sort the problem ".
Hell, I knew the problem, it was only carbonned up.
Screaming off the line working it max through the gears it seems to clean up missing after 80.
" Try it now " I yell to him on returning, and off he goes pouring it on till we cannot see him, for the road was hilly
in some areas.
This guy was slight, 150 lbs soaking wet, comes flying buy us about 70 mph, when he goes into a speed wobble.
The bike bounces from side to side hitting the road, the saddle bags must have saved him ,for he should have
been badly injured or killed.
The swing arm pivot pin was in need of replacement we discovered after the crash.
Wearing a sweater, light jeans he had a road rash that was
Horrible His back, legs , arms were like raw meat , and his face pure white in color.
Small but tough, we bring him to a doctor in Manotick, then home to recover with terrible pain. I know…. we
shared the same room when he was living with my parents.
He never drove again his heart wasn't into it, for he loved his sports, and saw what could happen on these toys.
One of the crew bought the Triumph, and for some reason my machine was waiting for a part what ever. We
buddy ride up to Clayton Lake to snorkel around, maybe spear a few fish or two if were lucky. Stayed all night in
a rented cottage the next morning it's pouring out no rain gear.
Now vision this scenario, my friend requests I drive, his first bike no rain driving experience.
Take off with the rain pouring down, my blue suede jacket is soaked no helmet means no visor. So there I am
wiping my glasses constantly, a brainstorm pull over to the side, pull out my double snorkel diving mask.
When we reach the city even in the rain people were pointing seeing us with our masks on.
To say the least we were soaked my skin had a nice blue hue to it for the next week or so.
Reflecting back accidents were minimal, the trauma above was one of the worst in our group. Jim Boone whom I
rode with occasionally, ended up in hospital for months after hitting a panel truck which went through on the red.
A few scrapes for me when I flew over the handlebars on Bank St. for a few yards. A car pulled out from the curb
in a heavy rainstorm, the wet pavement actually allowed me to slide rather than tumble along. St. Christopher was
with me that day for I landed on the opposite lane.
The long weekend of September a ride to famous Ogdensburg NY had been planned for a couple of weeks.
Unfortunately the Triumph 500 went up in flames on Somerset St. right in front of the fire Dept. It couldn't be
saved, another machine gone from the club. Actually there weren’t that many STMC guys left.
Dick on his 500 Norton, and with my Norton ,head off for the day .The weather great when we cross to USA a
tavern was the first and only stop for Dicks passion , but only for a couple. ………..SURE.!
Heading back over the ferry a neighbor is going home on his 350 Enfield "join up with us " I said. This didn't set
well, for my friend wanted to fly home, and this guy was putting along.
So off he goes heading up towards home I could see him on the crest of the hills, so he was in a hurry.
Meantime a Colonial Bus passes us billowing out diesel smoke like a steam engine.
Just passed Spencerville, we could see more black smoke, thinking that the bus is due for an overhaul.
Half way up the next hill is my friend’s Norton in the middle of the road with a flame 20-ft. high in the air. It had spit
back out the carb which he hadn't noticed until his jacket started to shrink. ( I wondered if he was still hammered
till this day ).
The engine was the only salvageable piece left .
The demise of our group had arrived with the new car designs in 55 meant the 49`s - to early 50`s were a
reasonable price to buy
and lots were available. By the end of summer ’56, only one of the old gang left , Le auto had won out.
The crew was now finding girls were a better substitute than hanging around a bunch of throttle rollers. I was the
last link or nut to hang on until late September the Norton was up for sale.
Within a week my Norton pride, and joy was sold for $400.00, going towards a down payment for a Triumph TR2
car.
The following year my favorite Norton motorcycle went up in smoke…sad.
In looking back on those years I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Having that freedom to go where you
want, and when you wanted, not having to count on someone, made my teenage years countable for my lifetime.
Returned to motorcycling again in May 9 1974 riding a 1972 Norton,
then 1975 850 .Yes still riding to-day, ….but you can't recover the past only think of it…… smiling.
This article has been written for those who are toilet trained , and can read.
Brian Wigmore April 13 2000