Back in 1995, my friend Steve and I decided to fly to the UK from home in New Zealand, buy a couple of bikes and ride them out to India. However, when we reflected on our mechanical ability, (I had reached slightly above totally clueless at this stage!) we decided it would be far safer to just tour Ireland instead.
So we jetted off to the UK, Steve hired a modern Yamaha 600 and after 5 days visiting classic bike dealers I ended up buying the first bike I’d looked at! It was a 1952 Sunbeam S8 which went well but was a bit scruffy. The S8 felt magical on my test ride, smoothly motoring down a country lane with the sun shining among the greenery of England just felt fantastic. When I picked it up, I caught a train from my friends place in London out to Robertsbridge, handed over a pile of cash, strapped my bag to the voluptuous rear mudguard and set off.
After 5 miles I stopped to fill the tank and guess what, the bike wouldn’t start – great, I thought, this bike could be a complete lemon! I quickly realised the battery was flat, so I rang the dealer and they quickly arrived with a replacement. A kindly mechanic who’d shown some interest in the bike gave me an old tube-type spark plug spanner, which I still have to this day and has been in the tool box of all my bikes.
After overnighting in Winchester, I rode over to a small village in the Brecon Beacons national park to meet Steve; it was a fantastic ride over the Severn bridge and through some great minor roads in Wales.
We then set off together up through Wales – with our different cruising speeds, Steve was always way ahead of me and waiting at the agreed meeting spot. The Sunbeam was going really well, with it’s rubber mounted engine and shaft drive it really is a nice smooth touring machine – and no more starting problems. Well, not the usual starting problems.
One day after filling up at a petrol station, I kicked the bike over, it started fine and I was just about to set off, when this guy walked past and casually said ‘Mate, do you know your bikes on fire?’. I looked down and saw some oily yellow flames flickering between my legs, ‘Holy s**t!’ I thought, here I am right next to a petrol pump and my bikes on fire! I fully expected people to come rushing out and alarms to start going off, but nothing happened. I pushed my bike away from the pump and threw it on the ground. Spotting a bucket marked ‘FIRE’ I grabbed it and thew handfuls of sand on the flames which put the fire out – phew!
After Wales, we decided to visit the Isle of Man on the way to Ireland, it was fun to ride on the famous TT course and I even spotted another Sunbeam S8 – but it was in a museum! Due to ferry schedules we ended up entering Ireland through Belfast which we weren’t that keen on as the troubles were still a thing. On the motorway south of Belfast I made the unforgiveable sin of running out of petrol, both taps were empty. Luckily I’d stopped about 50 metres from a motorway off-ramp, and extra lucky, the off-ramp had a downhill slope, so I coasted to the bottom and found…a petrol station!
We headed down to Dublin and then started going clockwise around the country, it was great fun staying off the motorways on the skinny hedge-lined lanes and being surprised by the occasional tractor. Navigating was also ‘fun’ with the signs sometimes pointing in the wrong direction and mileages increasing the closer you got to a place, it seemed the Irish sense of humour also applies to their signage – no mobile phones and navigation apps in those days. The only time I felt I was going to have an accident was when Steve did a U-turn right in front of me without indicating, the bike has great rear brakes and they saved the day.
After we got half-way up the west coast I decided I really needed to head home. I felt like I was really pushing my luck with the bike, which was requiring oil top-ups in every place that was supposed to be containing it as well as frequent spark plug changes. So I left Steve to carry on and cut across the middle of Ireland. While travelling along a motorway through Limerick the bike just stopped. Luckily, it had stopped under an overpass, so I climbed up and found a handy garage. I talked to a man there who asked what kind of bike it was. When I told him it was a Sunbeam he said ‘Oh, there’s a mechanic down the road that has one of those, try giving him a ring?’. In about ten minutes a guy arrived, found another dead battery and swapped it for a new one. He also cleaned the dynamo for me and after I’d given him some pounds I continued on my way.
Looking back, I can’t believe the wheels of good fortune that followed me around on my 3,000 mile journey, but maybe that’s the magic of old bikes? I had planned on selling the bike when I got back to London, but thankfully my dad talked me out of this and I sent it home to New Zealand – I think he was desperate to get his hands on it!
Journey's with British Motorcycles 