Memories 7


PBB 327F a Royal Enfield Continental GT 250 cafe racer, full race fairing (missing), monza seat as standard (missing) replaced by a plank of wood Monza race tank (leaking like a seive) performance top speed of 22 miles an hour, Dads analysis, total bloody wreck, but it was my wreck and I was determined to have it. After spending all of my summer holiday pay on it and a second hand seat and bits and of course Dad hammering the valves from it on the shed door to straighten them it was quite a nice thing to ride and had staggering acceleration and top speed for a British single, I didnt dare tell him "yerr Dad its fixed it touches the ton"! We used to frequent the Astley Arms Foremans Row Seaton Delaval,now called The Keel Row, and there we had our meets with other bikers and the like and in those days laws were lax and we had a few beers before trundling off home, however on one night when my engine had just been rebuilt I was trying to catch up with the guys on their way to Newsham and hovering just over one hundred miles an hour the engine siezed and the Enfield represented Captain Americas harley as it flew through the air at just over a ton. I still remember watching the bike disintegrate round me as the front wheel parted company and the exhaust vanished and I never felt anything bouncing down the road at that speed, I finally stopped in the gutter with the remains of the bike next to me. I was later told by a Police Officer who duly appeared that the reason I wasn't dead was that I didn't hit anything just scraped and bumped down the dead straight road, as you can all imagine, I was duly summoned and rightly so had my Licence revoked for one year, some of you may be saying "why the hell is he telling us this, I would have kept it quiet" WRONG, that was the most shamefull thing I've ever done in my life and I'm telling you it is wrong to drink and drive, here endeth the second sermon. So, for twelve long months I walked to work but every month more parts were bought for the wrecked Enfield and when myself and my girlfriend (Brenda my wife) had finished with it, it was as good as if not better than when new, but as family loomed and cots and things required to be bought it was goodbye to the Royal Enfield Continental GT 250 who by then was named The Roadrunner, but, on a happier note many many years later I saw an Enfield and dodged traffic to get its number and it was PBB 327F it had survived, not quite as good as when me and Brenda built it but still a fine example and I hope its still charging round the place

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