How it all began ....

How it all began - my passion for sidecar racing that is.

My parents and I were living in Crouch End, North London, in 1956.  As was common at that time few families had their own personal transport relying on public transport to get about.  Father was working as a bakery roundsman for the London Co-operative Society from their depot in Palmers Green a journey of about an hour each way with a change of buses at Muswell Hill Broadway six days each week.

He finally decided that it was time to invest in his own transport rather than rely on buses.  On returning home from school one afternoon I noticed a motorcycle and sidecar combination outside our home.  This puzzled me as none of my father’s friends as that I knew owned such a machine.  Once indoors my father greeted me and asked me had I noticed anything different so I said that there was a sidecar outside our house.  

Dad could contain himself no longer telling me that it was ours and that we could now go wherever we wanted whenever we wished to do so.  I was quite thrilled by this as until several years ago we always had a car, a 1932 Austin Ten, in which every summer Sunday we would go for days out to the Essex, Kent or Sussex coast.  Those trips were very special to me and the envy of many of friends whose parents could not afford such luxuries.

Father had kept in touch over the years with one his particular school friends, Percy Lester, well more than a friend as they had grown up together living in adjacent houses in Edmonton.  The first memories I have of Percy was at about seven years old when he was a roundsman for a local family run bakery driving a small electric powered Brush three wheeled delivery van with calls in our road.  Occasionally he would let me drive this between calls, naturally I was thrilled to be allowed such an illegal privilege!  

One particular day I had been to work with Dad on his sidecar, instead of heading home we went in the totally opposite direction to a parade of shops in Upper Edmonton where Father’s friend Percy had recently opened a motorcycle shop.  Well, I say a motorcycle shop but in reality it was a workshop selling motorcycle related bits and pieces as well.  Pride of place was given to a sidecar outfit, not just any ordinary beast of the time but a sleek silver machine on which the name Norton was proudly emblazoned on the petrol tank with a fairing and a strange platform for a sidecar.  My gaze was rivetted on this machine as my mind was trying to guess exactly what it was – then the penny dropped.  What gave the game away were the black numbers on oval backgrounds on the front and side of the bike and on the sidecar wheel cover, it just had to be a racing sidecar, the first time I had encountered such a thing.  Little did I know at that moment exactly how this almost chance encounter would influence much of my adult life.

Never before had I seen such a machine nor, as I recall, even heard of such a thing, but in front of my eyes there stood an item of great interest and wonderment to me.  Percy asked would I like to sit on it, now that was a really silly question to ask almost any twelve year old lad so I climbed aboard!  Reaching for the handlebars I could only just manage to reach the footrests so I naturally fell into a good impression of a racing crouch, being only just able to lift my head sufficiently to see where I was going, assuming of course that I was going anywhere such was the febrile imagination of a twelve year old mind.  All of this was of course accompanied by lots of Brrrrmmm Brrrrmmm type noises.

Soon Dad said it was time to go but first I had to prised away from this dream machine, reluctantly climbing off we said our farewells to return home. What I did not know that during my exciting yet imaginary ride to race fame and glory was that Percy had told Father something that was to be kept secret from me until the end of the following week.

Good Friday 1956 – unusually Dad did not go to work that day as he had arranged a couple of days holiday over the Easter weekend, I say unusually because bread deliveries were always at that time made six days a week.  In fact that is the first occasion that I can ever recall him having any time off over the Easter period.  Breakfast over and done with, sandwiches and flasks prepared for a day out so off we went on the ex RAC Norton 16H and Streamline child/adult sidecar. Where we were going was still unknown to me as we headed via Finsbury Park, Islington, London Bridge then into almost for me unknown territory south of Southwark.

The London suburbs gradually gave way to more open aspects then to green countryside as we continued on our way. Suddenly I saw a sign that read ‘Brands Hatch’, I knew that car racing happened there but did not think for a moment that would be our destination but that we were en route somewhere to the Kent coast.  The outfit began to slow, from my seat in the sidecar I could see more signs proclaiming this time that this was indeed Brands Hatch.  We turned into circuit, paid for our entry and programme then parked near the main grandstand.

There were solos out on the track, it was apparently practice preparatory for the afternoon’s racing. The speed and daring of the riders astonished me as I wondered how they could manage to stay on around the corners whilst leaning over so far.  Where we were watching from, near the top of Paddock Hill Bend was a good vantage point because virtually all of the circuit was visible from there.  An added bonus was that the riders left and returned to the paddock via the ambulance gate which was only a few feet from where we stood giving me a good look at everyone and the bikes as passed slowly by.

More solos came and went then the public address system announced that next to practice would be the sidecars, or barrow boys as they were then often known.  My interest and excitement grew rapidly as the outfits began trickling out onto the circuit.  Father particularly pointed out one machine to me saying that it was his friend Percy so I paid particular attention as he and his passenger were circulating.  The whole thing was just so fantastic, the sight of machines rushing round, the noise, the smell, the death defying antics of the passengers, so much so that I think that it was then that I had my first ever sidecar racing adrenalin rush! 

Competitors that I remember taking part were Bill Boddice, Cyril Smith, Dave Read, Fred Wells, Ted Young, the others regrettably remain a complete blur!

End of the session, all returned past us back to the paddock.  Now, I imagined that the paddock would be a inner sanctum where only competitors and the ultra privileged were permitted, I was fervently wishing that we could go there and see Percy and his Norton.  Dad started to walk away asking if was I coming.  Naturally I asked where as I did not wish to relinquish my excellent viewpoint, the reply was that we were going to the paddock.  Had I not had sufficient excitement already for one day? Apparently not, so we wended our way eventually finding my new found hero.

In the paddock there was just so much noise and activity, bikes being started, ridden around, machinery being warmed  up, motorcycles being fettled all in a atmosphere that was vibrant and exciting.  Something I had never smelt before however was the aroma of a hot bike fresh from the track, a wonderful smell of hot Castrol R and engines mixed with petrol fumes, it was a very heady cocktail to me. Around us were a number of other sidecars their crews still in leathers  many of whom were chatting and relating their own individual races.  Percy came over to speak with me and Dad, I listened in utter fascination yet almost lost in a dream world.  For me it was too soon when we went back to our erstwhile vantage point to watch more racing, I would have given anything to stay where the real heart of racing was.

 

Later, much later in the afternoon, it was the turn of the chairs again.  As they slowly drove through the ambulance gate onto the track both Percy and his passenger waved to me, now that really made my day to actually be acknowledged by a motorcycle racer!  Little of the race remains with me because I was so absorbed in the sheer spectacle of men wrestling with machines around Paddock Bend with much opposite lock and drifting as well as the sheer cacophony of finely tuned racing engines on open exhausts.

Race over, I saw the bikes for the last time that day as they returned to the paddock.  What a fantastic and memorable day that had been for me, something to day dream about for the future.  Little did I know but there was more to come soon, very soon ...

Easter Monday morning – had breakfast, sandwiches and flasks were prepared again, soon we were on the road again heading initially on the same route as Good Friday.  My parents had not told me where we were going again but that was not unusual for the time as children were brought up to do as they were told.  When we had passed through Southwark instead of turning onto the Old Kent Road which led eventually to Brands Hatch we headed for Herne Hill according to traffic signs.  Having passed through Herne Hill we were then following signs for Crystal Palace, I was still none the wiser.

Shortly we arrived at the Palace, it was only then that I saw signs advertising motorcycle racing there for Easter Monday – suddenly I was very excited again at the prospect of hopefully seeing more sidecar racing!  Soon I found myself on the terraces alongside the old start finish straight between North and South Tower Corners watching some solo races and becoming impatient to see the sidecars again.  All in good time they appeared much to my delight.  Regrettably I do not recall much of that meeting at all except that I enjoyed it immensely and could not wait to go racing again.

That evening over dinner I told my father that when old enough I was going to take up sidecar racing, his reply was that I would never be able to afford to do so.  For those of you that know me fairly well that was a challenge, albeit possibly a long term one.  The rest, as it is said, is history ...