By Sue D'Minn
I awoke on the morning of Sunday 4th September full of excitement and wonder as to what this special day would offer in the rekindling of memories held dear to my heart for so long. The bike was ready and so was I - in fact I had been ready for the last twenty five years - to pay homage to the venue where so many youngsters lived the carefree, fast life, had loads of fun, drank gallons of coffee and coca cola and outwardly thought more of their bikes than the young ladies turning a pretty ankle. Mind you I had heard that there was a swing park behind the ace back then where the naughty rocker boys would take the girlies for a cuddle on a warm summer evening, I was a good girl, that wasn`t for me, (I wish I could stop lying). Anyway back to the subject...
Fifty of us met from our area that Sunday morning for a run down the M1 to junction 5 to meet up with the main contingent at Quincys, barely a stones throw from our old haunt, The Busy Bee. But check this...I led the run that morning, we came off at 5, round the roundabout, down the slip road to the Bee roundabout...I don`t know what possessed me but I pulled into the Bee entrance, waving my friends on past me towards Quincys. More than one rider asked me why I stopped outside the Bee that morning, I had no answer for them, but I do recall a sense of sadness, maybe I was also paying homage to The Bee, I dunno, weird..Anyway back to the subject again...
To say we were six hundred strong would be an understatement, as the time moved on towards midday more and more bikes arrived, all styles, loud ones, quiet ones, rough ones and shiny ones, I gawped in awe at such a fine spread. At the stroke of noon they burst into life, from the crackle of sharp racey high revving japs to the slow solid thumping of old single pots.
The Police did a wonderful job escorting us to our destination that warm sunday afternoon, I have since heard that as the leaders were going off at Staples corner bikes were still piling on at junction 5!
At this point in my true narative of the day, I must tell you of a strange feeling that overcame me, maybe you expierienced it too...Due to traffic lights on the north circular we were split into smaller groups of riders. At one set of lights I found myself on the "grid" lined up with a Commando, a modern Triumph, big Japs and various other serious contenders. Ahead of us was the Iron Bridge where so many good hearted youngsters overestimated their bikes potential and lost their sweet young lives (R.I.P.) Possibly in my sub conscience, I thought that this burn from the lights would be for them, I don't know. The lights start to change, amber, green, I`m gone, first, second, third, the bike is going great...I look back, I'm on my own, what am I doing? I'm not a kid anymore, I've got nothing to prove, the bridge is ahead, I shut off. The army of machines trundle steadily past me, the majority of which could have out - accelerated me and left me standing. Funny ol' life ain't it?
On arriving at the Ace I was greeted by booming 1950's rock n roll (which I'm quite fond of), tea stalls, leather everywhere and bikes, bikes, bikes. It was estimated that there were around seven thousand machines in the immediate vicinity that day. I saw and spoke to people I hadn't seen for twenty five years and the passing of time seemed to have been kind to them,(well, some of them). There were plenty of younger riders too, some had that look, that certain something it took back then to be a ton up boy.
I'll wind this little piece up just by telling you about one that was waiting to park his bike on that memorable day...It was a British twin, rear sets, clip ons, he sported an open faced helmet, grubby white scarf and a badge adorned jacket. I could see he was getting cheesed off waiting to park up, a few seconds later he released the clutch, the motor died, kicked out the side stand and cockily walked away...Thats how it was, pure nostalgia.
All the best
Sue D'Minn.
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