It’s the late summer of 1974 and I’m working as a staff writer on the UK’s number one motorcycle magazine – Bike. Life, without any shadow of a doubt, is peachy.
No matter that I’m living in Highbury, North London, and commuting on a more or less daily basis up the old A1 to the magazine’s offices in Peterborough.
I’m riding bikes for a living and that’s all that matters.
Anyhow, somebody has to put in the road miles – did you really think we just took them for a quick spin around the car park?
More was yet to come.
One Friday afternoon, after our traditional journo’s lunch in the pub across the road (magazine offices always had a pub across the road back then), the editor, Mike Nicks, informed me that I had been chosen to collect next week’s test bike while I was down in the Smoke, washing and ironing and catching-up on a fast deteriorating social life.
I would have laid money on it being a Puch Maxi or some CZ or other but no, surprise, surprise, the test bike was a Harley-Davidson XLH Sportster. Zowee!
Read more in September’s issue of CBG
