JD's very own Easter Eggstra
By TMX Archives on 2nd May 11
With the Easter holidays having arrived it's time for a Ronnie Corbett style armchair story from a workbound TMX editor...
As it's Easter Monday, and I'm sitting in the TMX bunker knowing full-well that the sun is shining outside and most of you are out motocrossing, trialling and enduro riding, instead of moaning about Youthstream's no it isn't - yes it is - TV coverage, or whatever is the week's daft topic of choice (Royal wedding anyone - thought not!) I thought I'd give you all a break and tell a story of an Easter past, when I used to keep more normal hours!
Twas back in the early 1970s (yes, really!) when I used to stupidly think I could actually ride a trials bike and tagged along with Nigel Birkett, who actually could (and still can) ride a trials bike and we had a jolly time packing-in three events between Good Friday and Easter Monday. No big deal, lots of riders do that now, but we did it in three different centres and one was a National trial, the Lomax.
It was the first two that I have best memories of though as they were the first time I ventured out of my host Northern centre and into firstly Yorkshire and then the North West.
First was a maiden outing to a Richmond trial and the Birkett Sandiford Montesa Ford Granada (and trailer loaded with his factory Mont and my Beamish Suzuki) immediately picked up a speeding ticket outside Sedbergh. Birks was going through a period of collecting speeding tickets and just held his hand out the window, stuffed the paper in the glovebox and sped-off while the copper was still delivering his, ìWho do you think you are, Stirling Moss...î lecture. It was like a Buster Keaton comedy.
We arrived at Richard Sunter's farm at Healaugh about 10 minutes after the advertised starting time and I was already panicking a bit. Thirty minutes later Richard rolled-up on his Montesa trials bike, having just rounded-up a herd of sheep out on the Scott trial moors and announced, ìI'll just have a bit of breakfast and then we'll be off!î To cut the long story short we made the 10am start just before mid-day and I was convinced we'd be sent packing. Well, on my own I would have been - but with Sunt we were laughing - in fact it was expected of him!
All I recall of that day was of being blown-off in every section by a huge collection of farm lads who rode their Bults, Monts and Ossas in donkey jackets and wellies covered in cowsh*t - all apparently world champs in the making - and that cured me of venturing into Yorkshire much in search of trials awards.
On Easter Sunday it was another debut, this time in a north west trial and without rooting out old results, which will be around somewhere at home, and I'll find them sometime when I'm not looking for them, I can't offhand recall which club it featured, or even the venue. Nigel had sorted everything out, I was just acting-out being a sponsored rider!
What I do remember is that Mike Wood, who was a director of the mighty Sandiford Montesa empire, had actually ridden a Cota 247 to the venue. I knew this because we watched him ride up the approach road to this black, coalmine of a start area. He approached pretty fast and I actually had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over. As he raced past it struck us that Woody, in fact, was in some trouble. This was the conclusion as the engine was racing, both MIke's feet were scraping furiously along the ground sending up dual plumes of rubber smoke, the front brake was glowing red and there was a hell of a stink of hot engine and even hotter clutch.
The Mont roared through the paddock, missing several cars and bodies by inches, veered onto the moor, came to rest against a big banking of peat and thankfully eventually stalled.
Thank God for that!î gasped Woody as we raced up, ìit's been on full throttle ever since I left home, the clutch is so hot it wouldn't free and I just could not stop itî. He wandered off on shaky legs to find a cup of tea while we of course collapsed laughing. I was still laughing as I incurred several fives on the opening lap of what was a very easy trial. So I didn't go back to the north west much after that either.
After these two days out, the Lomax National on Easter Monday passed by with very little incident. Which is actually quite a rare occurrence on my day''s out. Forty years later it is nice to know that the Lomax is still a cracking traditional single lap trial in great countryside - and still as popular as ever with its entry being filled well before the official closing date.
So, however you filled your Easter break, whether racing, enduroing, trying to keep your feet-up or perhaps marshalling/ observing (now there's a past-time that's guaranteed some laughs) or even spectating, I truly hope that you packed away a few memories that still bring a smile to your face when you recall them years down the line.
Last Good Friday I was out on my road bike, as the sun was shining, pulled out to overtake a coach load of tourists on a fast Lakeland A road - and discovered too late I'd a rear wheel puncture. Opposite lock at 70mph (officer) is not to be recommended. But I'm pretty certain I'll remember it for some years to come...!
