MARIE THERESE VON HAMMERSTEIN

Every picture may tell a story; some pictures need a novel.  In this instance, that novel has been recently written, 'The Silences of Hammerstein' (Hans Magnus Enzesberger, 2009), part biography and part speculative fiction, an effort to grapple with a particularly puzzling, heroic, and frustrating chapter of German history.  The charming young woman pictured in 1933 aboard her motorcycle is Marie Therese von Hammerstein, whose father, Kurt von Hammerstein, happened to be head of the Wehrmacht (German army) at the end of the Weimar Republic, just before Hitler's rise to power.

Whatever stereotypes or prejudices her parentage might conjure would be entirely misplaced; Kurt von Hammerstein was a fascinating character, a man of strong opinions and succinct words, a friend of progressive trade unions, an aristrocrat, and an outspoken opponent of Adolf Hitler.  He also praised laziness in intelligent men, feeling that such fellows bring 'clarity of mind and strong nerves to make difficult decisions'.  He parented a large brood of remarkable, strong-willed, and free-minded children, all of whom made, or attempted to make, their mark on German history.

Marie Therese was clearly such.  The mere fact of an aristocratic woman riding a motorcycle in 1933 is exemplary, but with such a father, her motorcycle became a tool for an entirely more serious purpose.  That General von Hammerstein survived Hitler's rise to power is remarkable, especially as he made no secret of his hatred of Hitler, and attempted to lure the Fuhrer to his fortified compound in Cologne, to kill him.  Hitler demurred every time. As Hammerstein learned of Nazi plans to arrest and kill Jews, he supplied Marie Therese with the names of the targeted, and she rode her motorcycle as far afield as Prague (still independent) to ferry Jewish intellectuals to safety.  One plucky duck.

Marie Therese and her two sisters married Jewish intellectuals and labor organizers, and of course all of them had to flee Germany by the mid-1930s.  Their father died of cancer in 1943, after being relieved of his military service by 1934. Her two brothers were involved in an attempt to assassinate Hitler on July 20th, 1944, and escaped because they knew a secret passageway used by the military which connected to the U-Bahn (subway).  They survived the war.  Other siblings had a hard time of it, as after the failed plot, her two younger siblings and their mother were interred in a concentration camp until the end of the war.

Marie Therese and her husband John Paasche fled to Japan, as Paasche had studied Asian languages in college.  They lived out the war there, 'with the police camped out across the street, watching'.  In 1948 they moved to San Francisco, where Marie Therese died in 2000, aged 90. 
Would that I had seen this photo many years ago.

'TITCH' ALLEN REMEMBERED

From the VMCC Website:

"The VMCC is saddened to report the death of Club Founder Charles Edmund “Titch” Allen OBE, BEM on Thursday.

Where ‘Historic Motorcycles are discussed, the Vintage Motor Cycle Club and the name of Charles Edmund ‘Titch’ Allen are sure to be drawn into the conversation. This extraordinary man has been a strong influence on the growth and the development of the ‘old ‘bike’ movement – not only in this country – but also throughout the world.

Born in May 1915 in rural Nottinghamshire, Titch claimed to have been born with oily fingers and that his favourite plaything at the age of two was a hammer. Totally negative experiences with father’s milk float horse sparked off an interest in two-wheeled transport that soon transferred to his first motorcycle when he was twelve years old, a two-stroke ‘Clyno’ in the form of a box of bits.

Despite a grammar school education at Loughborough, he left school at 16 with no real qualifications other than a ‘gift for the written word’ an attribute that has never deserted him – along with his ‘gift for the spoken word’. His ambitious and forceful Mother secured a position for him as a trainee reporter on the local paper.

(Above, at the VMCC AGM, 1956; John Griffith on the right)


His experiences and the contacts made during those years included a succession of thoroughly dreadful cars and motorcycles and which lead indirectly to his meeting and marrying Jess in November 1937 and becoming deeply involved with the resurrection of the Loughborough Motor Cycle Club. As did many other motorcyclists, Titch responded to the appeals for dispatch riders in the motorcycling magazines the ‘Blue’un and the ‘Green ‘un and signed up to the “Motor Cyclist’s Army Register” and after many trials and tribulations actually served as a DR concluding the war as a sergeant and with the BEM.

His obsession with motorcycles never left him in these tempestuous times and he claimed that the acquisition of a 1930 Scott in 1942 was the catalyst for the formation of a ‘Vintage Motor Cycle Club’ –the great stimulus being the series of articles on the adventures of tracking down and acquiring ‘old bikes’ written by Captain Jim Hall in the magazine“The Motor Cycle” The idea was Jim’s but it was the work of Titch and Jess that got the club off the ground with the historic inaugural meeting on the Hog’s Back on April 28th 1946. The ideals Titch envisaged were those of a sporting club where sporting, historic motorcycles would be used in competition – an ideal that came to be frustrated.

(above: 'Titch' with the 'Dreadnought')


It was at this time that Titch began his life-long love affair with the Brough Superior marque and when he made a complete career change, moving into the world of motorcycling as a sales representative for Jim Ferriday, the irrepressible owner of the ‘Feridax’ motorcycle accessories company, which led to all kinds of adventures and experiences –and many opportunities to enlarge and enrichen his collection of motorcycles. His involvement with the emerging and developing Vintage Motor Cycle Club was, at times, a tempestuous affair, with numerous confrontations with equally strong-minded individuals at various stages of the Club’s development. Titch admitted that his singular devotion to old motorcycles and motorcycling lead to the breakdown of his marriage and subsequent separation from Jess.

There was tragedy in the loss of Roger, his eldest son, in a freak road-racing incident in the Isle of Man in 1992 and then to lose Barbara, his eldest daughter, to cancer in 2005. Over the years Titch had lost many close friends and associates through motorcycle related accidents, but to many who were close to him, it seemed as if the death of Roger left a permanent scar from which he never really recovered.

Titch’s relationship with his wife was back on friendly terms for the latter period of her life before she succumbed to terminal cancer in 2002.

Recognition of his contribution to Motor Cycle Heritage came in the form of an OBE in 2004. The presentation ceremony took place, most appropriately, at Donington Park - a racing venue he had been associated with for 75 years. Reluctant to give up ‘competitive’ motorcycling, nevertheless, Titch retired, first from road racing and finally from sidecar racing on ‘the grass’. His interest and enthusiasm never dimmed, however and a ‘posing’ sidecar outfit was prepared for special occasions – of which the most celebrated must have been his appearance in the Past Masters’ Parade at the revival of the Festival of 1000 ‘bikes in 2006 at the age of 91.

(above:  'Titch: A Founder's Tale', his autobiography.  Recommended reading!)

Never afraid to voice his opinions on Vintage motorcycles and motorcycling anywhere and at any time, he was frequently controversial both within the Vintage Motor Cycle Club and elsewhere. Sometimes he was proved to be wrong, on other occasions to have been correct. But his dedication could never be questioned. There can have been very few people who have been able to indulge a life-long obsession to the full whilst earning a living and raising a family and leaving behind a remarkable legacy to remember him by."

While I only met 'Titch' a couple of times, the man is legendary and I have the highest respect for his efforts at keeping old motorcycles out of the dustbin of history; truly, our Movement would not be the same without him.  Ave Titch!

ARTHUR WHEELER

From The Telegraph.co.uk:
ARTHUR WHEELER was perhaps the last Corinthian in the tough and dangerous world of motor-cycle racing, and was still competing within five months of his death.
He was initiated into Grass Track racing in 1934, campaigning a "cammy" Mark IV KTT Velocette at pre-war venues all over the south-east of England. Then, in 1936, against his parents' strong opposition, he rode at Brooklands in a "Clubman's Day". Although he finished third in two races, reaching speeds of 81.5 mph, his father forced him to sleep for three nights in the garden shed with his Triumph Tiger 100 as a "penance"; it was also intended to cure the young man of his racing bug, but failed to work.

Arthur Frederick Wheeler was born on August 5 1916 at Epsom in Surrey. After leaving school at 15 to become an apprentice electrician and engineer, he bought a set of leathers and an old black "pudding basin" helmet for two guineas from his uncle, the Brooklands race veteran Frank Taylor, who was retiring after winning the International Ulster Grand Prix.

Having bought his first one-man motor-cycle business in 1937, at Ewell near the Epsom family home, Wheeler used all the shop's profits to enable him to compete in his first Isle of Man race, the amateur riders' Manx Grand Prix. Here he achieved creditable practice times, but crashed at the first corner on his first race lap; and, after remounting and riding for 10 miles with a broken girder fork spring, he retired.
But Wheeler's shop prospered, selling motor-cycles to the "Promenade Percys" of the day who rode the new Dorking by-pass and the main roads to Brighton and Worthing. On the outbreak of war, Wheeler's skills as an engineer led to his being chosen to work alongside another motor-cycle enthusiast, Barnes Wallis, on the "Bouncing Bomb".
After the war Wheeler had a motor- cycle shop at Epsom, and business boomed. This time the profits were used largely to finance a new international road racing career with the "Continental Circus" in which "Wheeler Dealer" established his reputation as a dedicated engineer/rider with a superb technique. Against at least 100 competitors on the post-war race grids, Wheeler was always in the first 10 past the chequered flag on his 250 cc Triumph and 350 cc Velocettes.
He travelled to the circuits around the British Isles and Europe the hard way, transporting himself and his bikes in a 1945 Morris van with a maximum speed of 45 mph.
Wheeler recorded a number of victories on a new 1949 Mk VIII Velocette bought from the Birmingham factory for £420. His friends when he joined the "Continental Circus" and chased World championship points included Geoff Duke, Fergus Anderson, Ken Bills, Freddie Frith, Dickie Dale and the ex-bomber pilot Les Graham.
Whenever Wheeler was racing on the Continent a brawny Belgian mechanic, Noel Lahaye-Moussiaux, attached himself to the team. Lahaye-Moussiaux undertook to work for the team unpaid, and became a lifelong friend. At the end of each weekend's racing, Wheeler - a dapper figure - and the less elegant Belgian, joined forces to host heavy-drinking parties that seldom finished before dawn.
Although Wheeler had more than 100 victories to his credit, it was his greatest regret that he never won an Isle of Man T.T., despite finishing in 40 such races. His most successful year was in 1962, when he finished fourth in the Isle of Man Lightweight T.T., and won the World championship Grand Prix in Argentina. He came third in the 1962 World championship and was hailed as the world's best and most sporting "privateer".
At the end of that year he retired, aged 46, only to take up sidecar trials. But in 1979 the sight of a parade of T.T. stars persuaded him to compete in Classic and Historic motor-cycle racing.
Wheeler had to battle with the sport's governing body to obtain a licence but finally they relented, allowing him another 22 years racing in Europe and beyond. Only five months before his death Arthur Wheeler was Classic racing in Australia, finishing in front of many riders only a quarter of his age.
Shortly before his death he had completed a full service on his beloved 250 cc Moto Guzzi ['Gambalunghino'] ready for events later in the year. A member of the Leatherhead Motorcycle Club for 70 years, Wheeler was also active in Freemasonry and a Past President of the Association of Pioneer Motor-cyclists. He was also a generous Trustee and Past President of the T.T. Riders' Association.
[The first and last two photos were supplied by Bo Ecklund - thanks for your quick work Bo!]

LES HARRIS

Les Harris, the 'bridge' between the old Meriden Triumph factory and the new John Bloor models, died last week. From the South Devon Herald Express:

A MOTORCYCLE display team will sound a throttle roar in memory of a Torquay businessman who resurrected the Triumph Bonneville motorbike and met Margaret Thatcher.
Les Harris, 69 and from Torquay, died at Torbay Hospital on February 17 from a progressive lung condition, which he suffered from for more than 10 years.
Mr Harris leaves behind his wife Shirley, his children Carole, Debbie, Angela and Chris, and 10 grandchildren.
Mrs Harris said: "Les was a decent, very hardworking man, with an all-encompassing passion for work, life and his family. He had a mischievous sense of humour and an irreverent intolerance for snobbishness. He also had a dress sense all of his own. Les has left behind a great legacy in our children and grandchildren and our lives have been immensely enriched by his larger than life character and absolute unconditional love for us all."

A motorcycle enthusiast, Mr Harris set up his own business in 1974 manufacturing and selling spare parts for classic motorcycles. As British motorcycle firms Norton Motors, BSA Small Heath and later Triumph collapsed, Mr Harris would pay for and store parts to be delivered straight to customers. As the parts stocked up, L F Harris International Ltd started trading out of a warehouse in Newton Abbot before acquiring an engineering company in Leighton Buzzard and opening a retail shop in Paignton.

Mrs Harris said: "With the demise of the Triumph motorcycle factory in Meriden, Les and I made a bid for the rights to the Triumph name in 1983. Unfortunately we were unsuccessful in this; however, we were offered the opportunity to licence the name for five years [by John Bloor, current owner of the Triumph name] and so an incredible journey began with the move to a bigger factory and warehouse."
Press coverage of their venture was global and resulted in an invitation to Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament. In 1987 the Harris' were visited by the then Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.
"Les was so proud of these visits. For years he has been hailed as the saviour of the traditional classic Triumph motorcycle all over the world. He loved this time, making many new friends as he dealt with customers around the globe," Mrs Harris said.
In 1988 the couple decided not to re-licence and Les began to design his own motorcycle, producing The Matchless G80. The production of the motorcycle ceased after 1990 in the midst of the recession and the business returned solely to the production of spare parts for classic motorcycles. The family-run company now trades from Pavor Road in Torquay.
At his funeral this Saturday, six soldiers from the Royal Corps of Signals White Helmets Motorcycle Display Team will carry the coffin and provide a 'throttle roar' as Mr Harris enters and leaves the church.
Mrs Harris explained: "Les was not in the White Helmets, but our company built their bikes and donates motorcycle spare parts to them."

ALLAN BURT

By Dennis Quinlan

Allan Burt was a motorcyclist all his life, and never married; some say he was wed to Velocette and AMC motorcycles.
A 'racer's racer' is an apt description. Following are some photographs from his years as dedicated racing man, from Australia and the Isle of Man; on dirt, road, and track.







The first photo shows Allan dicing with the late Les Diener in 1948 at Mildura, Victoria. [These are both very special Velocettes; if you click on the photo, you will note that both have been modified with double-overhead-camboxes! Diener's bike has what appear to be ex-WD AMC telescopic forks, and both machines appear to use magnesium hubs. I will speculate that these are both 250cc 'specials', based on the pushrod MOV Velo, modified into very effective short-circuit 'tools' - pd'o.]







The next with great mate Bobby Brown unloading bikes around 1950, also at the Mildura races of that year. [A tempting collection of race hardware! I spot Norton, Velocette, and AMC hardware.]







The next is Allan aboard a pre-war Velocette 350cc rigid MAC in a trial near Parramatta, Sydney [note stripped-down yet basically standard motorcycle - a 'bob job'].







Team photo of the P.& R. Williams 1954 Castrol 5-Day Trial entrants, L to R...B.Lemon, Doug Williams and Allan Burt, with the mix of machines P&R imported.








Bob Brown on a P. & R. Williams ex-works KTT Velocette [note extra-large cylinder barrel], with Allan on a P. & R. AJS 7R, at Mt. Druitt race track, west of Sydney, 1953. In between is Les Slaughter and Eric McPherson, both dealer-supported riders.









Following is Allan at the IOM TT races, June 1955 outside the favourite guest house for Commonwealth riders in Douglas..."Rose Villa"...L to R- Allan Burt, Richie Thomset, Bobby Brown, Maurie Quincey's wife, Maurie Quincey. Both Allan and Bob are mounted on loaned AMC machines from the factory to assist in learning the course...








Allen suffered a terrific crash in practice for the 1955 TT that resulted in his spending 8 months recuperating in the Isle of Man, cared for by the proprietors of "Rose Villa", Glad and Roy Gilbert, with whom Allan retained a lifelong correspondence.








Bob Brown came back to the IOM in Feb.1956, collected Allan who was on crutches, and Allan accompanied him as a mechanic all through the 1956 European season, then returned to Australia and worked in three jobs during 1957 to save to go to Europe again.
1958 saw Allan and Bob return by boat to the UK and embark on a full continental racing season.
Returning to Australia late in 1958, Allan remained a force in Australian title road racing up until his late 60s.... Unfortunately, Bob Brown was killed riding a Works Honda on the Isle of Man in 1960.
Above, Allan's smashed 7R sits forlornly outside the AMC raceshop in Plustead outside London, awaiting repair....
Following that is Allan aboard his AJS 7R for the 1958 IOM TT races, awaiting practice to start.







Then some motorcycling memorabilia...AB's Western Suburbs MCC Cromwell "pudding basin" crash helmet.








The other is one of the bronze replicas Allan won for his 44th place in the 1958 Junior IOM TT on his 350 AJS 7R, the other for 41st in the 1958 Senior IOM TT, riding Bob Brown's Junior TT AJS 7R (Allans' Senior mount, a G50 Matchless broke a crankpin in practice).








Allan loved working on bikes...here he is using "Big Bertha", my really large old lathe to machine up a sprocket blank in my shed.








Allan's last G50, a 1961 model seen at Amaroo Park circuit, July 1977.
Then for Allan tragedy struck....while in hospital in May 1998 for unsuccessful surgery to his leg, his shed was broken into and a 1960 7R AJS, a 1961 G50 Matchless and a 1954 G45 Matchless were stolen.
Allan was devastated...to him the theft must have been perpetrated by an associate or even a friend.... He found it difficult to look friends in the eye. Were they the thief? He never actively went into his shed again to work on motorcycles and as time passed his old "war wound" the badly smashed leg from the 1955 IOM crash affected his mobility and eventually he had to go into a nursing home. His three racing motorcycles are still missing.

I assisted in clearing his shed, some bikes and all parts were sold, but four racers were put on display in the National Motor Racing Museum at Bathurst, NSW...pictured are three of them. A Mk.8 KTT replica, another 7R AJS and his 125cc Yahama racer.









The final photo is of Allan at his nursing home, taken shortly before his death last week by old friend Jan Grainger... a bachelor he may have been, but he always had an eye for "good lookin' sheilas..." ( a "sheila" is Australian parlance for a gal..).

Late last year, 2008, two brother were charged with receiving stolen goods involved in the theft of Allan's bikes...some 10 years later. There is hope the bikes may be recovered and justice be done to the perpetrators of this crime...to steal from a friend is a low act....
Sadly Allan will not see the result of the impending judicial trial or if his bikes will ever be recovered. Rest assured there are many of us who have worked to bring the thieves to justice and will continue until justice is done.

KEITH HAMILTON

A great fellow, true Vintagent, and source of marvelous stories, Keith Hamilton has moved on to the big motorbike workshop in the sky. I have had the great pleasure of corresponding with Keith for many years, and every email or phone call would meander in the best possible ways, to his adventures during WW2, or building the first radio-equipped civilian motorcycle, or tales of hobnobbing with Les Diener (constructor of the Eldee dohc racing Velocette). He served in the RAAF for 5 years during the War, as a flight engineer on Catalinas, later on B24 Liberators. He held the attention of one motorcycle email forum as he worked to locate one 'ditched' WW2 Catalina in the South Sea, from notes he kept on the day!

Keith was soaked through with Velocette, although he wasn't exclusive in his affections; two Pioneer Rex's and a watercooled 1912 model (for which he wove his own cane sidecar body) and the odd 'other' machine passed through his prolific workshop. He is perhaps best remembered for specializing in the nearly forgotten 1920's Velocette two-strokes, especially the Ladies' Model (above), often seen with the man at some antique rally or other. He was great friends with both Les Diener and Phil Irving, and wrote about both men extensively.

While in Sydney three years ago, I had the chance to visit with Keith and his wife Barbara, and ride the famed 'Ladies' Model' around the dirt parking lot of the Zig Zag Railway. It was an acquired taste, certainly, and one which Keith was increasingly unable to savor as his health declined. Always practical, he continued motorcycling in later years on a newish v-twin with an electric leg, stretching his riding days well into his twilight years.

Born in Glenelg, South Australia, in 1921, and was apprenticed as a youth to his uncle, Clarence Darwin Sweet, at his small garage workshop in the backyard of his home in Warradale, SA. Keith spent much of his life far away from motorcycle dealers, and became a past master at 'bush maintenance'.

Not to denigrate his work, for it was always first-class, and never bodged - rather he was just as likely to make a part, small or large, as to buy one from the factory. I think that after keeping an early KSS Velo running daily with little spares support in the 1940's, restoring obscure 1920's motorcycles held no terrors for him, and he was quite capable of fabricating just about anything needed, from a cylinder muff to a petrol tank. He saved quite a few old bikes in this manner, a testament to his boundless energy - he seemed indestructible!

Last year he completed a book on his 'Other Love', motorcycles (as wife Barbara was the first great love of his life), with the help of his daughter Glenda. It chronicles a life of buying, repairing, racing, and restoring a long string of very interesting bikes, from his first KSS mk1 onwards. You can download the book in pdf form here.

I was particularly fond of his tale of creating the first 'civvy' radio set on his trusty KSS. He had purchased a surplus radio after WW2 and managed to rearrange its contents into a compact box, barring the speaker. This he worked into a large decorative motorcycle horn, which he turned to face himself (see pic below). A slightly larger battery helped with the sound, and voila, he could listen to the radio while riding, about 30 years before touring Gold Wings and Harleys had such equipment. Stylishly done, too, as ever with Keith.

He loved to pen his thoughts, and wrote four books of prose/poetry, including his work experiences in Australia and abroad, and of course his motorcycles. Keith, his wife Barbara, and his daughter Glenda created a website for all of his books, which can be found here. The following is an example of his storytelling, from his book 'When God Created Woman'.

The Old A.J.S.

'Daaad!' The two brothers had been whispering together as their elder sister and mother cleared away the dishes of the midday meal, while their father ran his eye over the Sunday Mail. Dad lowered the newspaper and knew immediately that the boys had something serious on their ten year old minds. 'Yes?' 'It's that old motorbike in the garden shed, could we pull it out and get it going?'
'Well, you had better ask your mother about that', said Dad, as he and his wife of fifteen years exchanged glances. This stumped the boys a bit; they were used to having requests referreed to Mum, but on the subject of an old bike, a bit strange! Dad when on, 'It's really your Mum's bike - it's a long story'.

'You see, back in the depression before the war, I was working up on the Murray with a mate. we both owned pretty beat up old bikes, mine a Norton, his a Triumph, we were cutting wood at the time, and 'batching ' in a shed on the property owned by a widow woman with a young sheila that we took to be her daughter.

The bike in our shed now, was at that time sitting in the shed where we slept, with one tire missing, and a homemade sidecar shassis topped with a shallow box attached, and it was on a Sunday such as this, that this sheila walked down from the farmhouse and found us checking out the old A.J.S. For that's what it was, and in the course of convesation she said, "I'll bet you boys could get that bike going, and teach me to ride!"
Such a challenge was soon acted upon, and with the widow's permission (it wasn't her mother) the side car was detached and it's good tire went on the bare rim of the bike, and we soon had it running around the paddock, with the girl showing that she would soon ride as well as we did!
A couple of weeks passed, and we paid the widow 2 pounds 10 shillings for the outfit. We had spent some time fitting the 'sidebox' to my 16H Norton, and it was time to head back to Adelaide. I guess you could say that we had become pretty chummy with the sheila and it came as no surprise when she said that she was heaading home to Adlaide also. She pointed out hat she could ride the A.J. S. which I intended to partly dismantle and take home in the 'box'.

So it was, that soon after we all headed off at daybreak and had a good run, until we were almost to my home town of Crafers in the Adelaide hills, at which point the back tire on the Norton went flat. While the mate and I sat on the side of the road and repaired the puncture, we sent the sheila on with instructions to call in to the house with the white picket fence on the edge of town and inform my family of our impending arrival.

We made it home and I was surprised to find that the shiela and the A.J.S. were gone! "She just gave us the message and rode off on her bike", said Mum. 'Her bloody bike!' I exploded. 'It's mine!' seeing my thoughts of a 'prettied up bike putting a few quid in my pocket disappear. However a couple of beers at the pub with some old mates had everyone laughing at how we had been taken by a bit of 'fluff'! Then for the first time I had a strange feeling that my loss wasn't all to do with the A.J.S.

I busied myself doing a bit of part time work in the local market gardens and was surprised to come home one afternoon and see the old A.J.S. leaning on the front fence, and inside the sheila happily chatting to Mum and Dad over a cup of tea!

I stood there like a stunned mullet as she got up from the table, and gave me a big hug and immediately the tears and words began to fall out. "I stopped as you asked and gave your Mum the message but I was all mixed up inside. You never took any notice of me you sod - all you and your mate thought about was bikes! Somehow I couldn't face you again and, anyhohw the AJ was really sort of mine! I guess I intended to return it as soon as i sorteed myself out, and so - here's your bike back. I've looked after it."

'So boys - that's the story - and yes, you really will have to ask your Mother about this one!'

I won't lament Keith's passing, he lived well and long, so it's simply, Godspeed Keith!

DEATH OF A VINTAGENT

My friend James Johnson died last night, after a riding accident on his favorite, a 1924 Sunbeam Model 5. James has been featured many times on these pages, as he was a true Vintagent, and had honed his Sunbeam from a neglected but cosmetically-passable old bike, into a comfortable and useful touring motorcycle. As he was not a mechanic by trade (but a building contractor), his mechanicing skills were hard earned through sheer cussedness - all of his friends were amused by the great number of piston seizures and 'dnf's' on rides he joined on his Sunbeam, rigid Velocette MAC, Ariel Red Hunter, Royal Enfield Model J, or BSA Sloper, almost always in the company of his wife, Kumi, who rode close by. He spent most of his time recently on the Sunbeam, which had eventually become a reliable bike on which he would tour distances incomprehensible for a 1920's machine, even to those dedicated to Old Motorcycles.

Indeed, when we recently compared our Vintage Sunbeams side by side, (see the 'Sunbeam Shootout' and 'Sunbeam Redux' posts), I was impressed at just how easy his machine had become - while my Longstroke was still many, many hours of toil away from this state of utility. I asked if he would spend countless hours on my bike as well, so I could enjoy it in the same manner; he repliced with a laugh and a curse - getting a motorcycle 'sorted' is no easy task.

James had organized a 'run what you brung - illegal p.o.s.' ride for New Year's Day on Thursday, to explore the excellent riding roads north of San Francisco, in Marin County. The day was passably fine and dry, although quite a bit of mist was encountered at 3000' on Mt. Tamalpais - this cleared up at the coastal Sea Level of the legendarily beautiful Hwy 1.

The other legendary aspect of our California Highways is two decade's worth of neglected maintenance - our roads are in mediocre-to-appalling condition; apparently safety comes second to keeping our taxes low. The group of riders all experienced a sharp road rift on a stretch just north of the invisible town of Bolinas (they keep removing the signs to keep tourists out). While the bikes all took a wallop, James' bike had a fatal weakness.

James took two risks with his riding; he chose to wear a 'pudding basin' helmet, and he retained the 'clincher' tires on his Sunbeam, as he (like me) is a fan of 'period' correctness. These old tires were superseded in 1928 by the 'modern' wired-edge type (still in use); 'clinchers' were considered unsafe even then. As they rely on air pressure to keep the tire on the rim, a sudden loss of air through puncture or compression-blowout will rapidly have the tire wrapped around the wheel like a rubber band.

Thus, after hitting this sharp rift on Hwy 1, James' tire wrapped around the front wheel, and he rode/skidded on the rim for quite a ways - it is estimated he was moving at around 55mph at the time. When he inevitably hit the ground, he hit his head, and although the Davida helmet he wore was fairly new, this design has not been certified as safe for road use since the 1960's. It gave no protection, and he cracked his skull. A one-two punch of bad luck and risky equipment, and James was down.

As they were on an isolated and no-cell range spot of the coast, it took nearly an hour for a helicopter to lift him to the nearest hospital, and while the surgeons did their best, it was clear that even if he survived, the damage to his brain meant that James-as-James was gone.

His wife Kumi, who had been following on her '48 Velocette MAC, shortly came upon the scene, and was inconsolable. James' mother arrived from Texas, and in concert with the assembled friends, we agreed that James would not wish to have his body survive his mind, and decided to 'pull the plug' last night. As James had a rare blood type, his organs will extend the lives of several more fortunate people.

I'm sorry if going into such detail is disturbing, but I feel it's important to sit with the consequences of some of James' decisions about his motorcycling, which are decisions that each of us make when we choose to ride older machines. All motorcycles are dangerous, granted, but we can certainly mitigate some of the danger by choosing a bit of safety over style. I'm certainly not pointing fingers, as just like James, I have been known to ride with an ancient pudding bowl helmet, on a Sunbeam with clincher tires. Very suddenly, a rather mundane solo accident became a major tragedy, which impacts many, many people. I'm not going into 'what ifs', just what happened.

We've lost a good friend, the world has lost a Vintagent, and our prayers are with Kumi.

A selection of photos of James doing what he loved best can be found here.

Photos of the wake can be found here.

BRIAN VERRALL

I was saddened to learn today of Brian Verrall's death on Saturday the 3rd of Feb. I know he had endured various health problems, but seemed well and in good spirits when last I saw him in June. I knew Brian since 1984, when as a fresh from college youth I entered his emporium and was agoggle at all the amazing bikes on display. He helped me at various times in my motorcycling career in tangential ways, making a connection or suggestion for me, supplying literature, helping place a value on an odd machine. I always found him very professional and up front about his business practices, and always willing to stand behind what he sold. I can honestly say that I held him as a model of a respectable motorcycle dealer, and have incorporated some of his philosophy into my own business dealings. Godspeed, Brian!