Cinders to Shale

There is a small museum not too far from where I live dedicated to speedway racing. Strangely, the owner only opens it for one day a year, but it's his museum, so his rules.

A while back I got the nod that it was time for the annual open day and, although I'm not a huge fan of the sport, decided to pop along and have a look.

As museums go, it's quite small. Entrance is by donation and you enter through a narrow corridor covered in advertising posters. 

Turn a corner and you are met with a large room absolutely packed with bikes and even more memorabilia the strangest of which must be the jam jars lovingly labelled and full of ash and cinders from particular tracks and specific races.

The bikes themselves are pristine and they are obviously well cared for, unlike a lot of exhibits you come across in much bigger museums. They range from the vintage to the modern and include names like Vincent and Scott who I didn’t know made such specialist machines.

All in all it was a pleasant way to pass an hour or so and I’d recommend it should you manage to hear of it’s next open day.

Messin' with the Boys

More years ago than I like to admit a few friends and myself were over on the Isle of Man for the motorcycle racing.

Sitting on Douglas prom one afternoon chilling out and having an ice-cream we slowly became aware of the noise of an approaching engine. 

It was loud, it reverberated off the buildings in a nicely satisfying way, and was obviously coming from a set of open pipes.

We eagerly awaited sight of the bike and rider, assuming something like a big Norton or Triumph twin. It was that sort of noise.

Imagine our bewilderment when around the corner rode a teenager on a small CG125.

Not the actual bike, obviously

The noise we had heard was a result of completely removing the silencer, replacing it with a small turned out chrome end-piece more suited to a boy-racer's XR3i, and his having to rev the bollocks of the bike just to keep it moving.

We looked at each other and just burst out laughing. We couldn't help ourselves. It was so ridiculous, and the young lad looked so pleased with himself mixing it with the 'proper' bikers. We all waved and gave him a thumbs-up.

He waved back and rode away with one of the biggest grins I've ever seen. 

Graphic Novel

Just arrived today, my signed copy of the new graphic novel version of ‘Stealing Speed’ by Mat Oxley.

The original book is no longer available new except as an e-book, and second-hand versions change hands for silly amounts of money on eBay and Amazon. I was lucky enough to get a copy a few years ago and it’s an enthralling read. Part Cold-War thriller, part motorcycle history.

For those who don’t know the story, MZ works rider Ernst Degner defected to the West at the height of his battle for the 1961 world championship and sold MZ’s winning two-stroke engine secrets to Suzuki, while his wife and children were smuggled through the newly built Berlin Wall.

The following year Suzuki and Degner made history by winning the two-stroke’s first world championship and Japan was on its way to conquering the world of motorcycling.

It’s strange, I am a big fan of MZ motorcycles and the UK riders club continues to play a large part of my social life and the reaction of most of the club members I’ve spoken to is less cheering Degner for his escape from under communism and the subsequent thumbing of the nose by the Japanese, and more one of annoyance that he could do that to Walter Kaaden and the rest of his team mates and deprive MZ of their world championship. Not sure I can really blame the man for taking his opportunity for himself and his family, though.

Sadly, in the end it didn’t quite work out for him personally, and MZ as a racing power never quite recovered.

Original book cover

I’d recommend this book to anyone interested in that late 60s period and in motorcycles generally.

Mat Oxley's website can be found here 

Mat Oxley's books can be bought from here