Early Days of Scooters from Bristol to the IoM TT
By David Oldland
Growing up in Bristol I was probably like most other kids, three newspaper rounds (weekdays pm, and weekends) with huge Sunday papers, and it was a great way to keep fit – thinking back.
Add a Saturday morning milk round, walking with a cart, dashing to front doors and back, street after street. That’s how I saved enough money to buy an old Vespa 125, which I could only ride up and down the back lane, as I was not old enough to apply for my scooter licence. I do remember delivering the Sunday papers on it – illegally – for a short time.
In 1966 at sixteen, and licensed to ride on ‘L’ plates, I was introduced to the Avon Valley Vespa Club by my good friend (now of over 55) years Tony Simpkins.
Tony Simpkins shares, “I remember your very first Avon Valley VC club run, on your ancient 125. I think it was to Bourton on the Water, and just before turning off the Gloucester Road you had got way out in front and gone sailing up the main road. We had to send someone on a 180 after you, and you were halfway to Gloucester before he caught you!”
After leaving AVVC club meetings we would ride down Park Street to the Wimpy Bar for a burger and Coca-Cola spider.
I met a fantastic group of AVVC members who, during the following years, expanded to a network of national groups through the Vespa and Lambretta clubs of Britain, many of them friends to this day.
AVVC relocated to Frenchay Village Hall in Filton, Bristol in 1967. Meeting early on balmy summer days for a hotly contested soccer match on the green was the precursor to club business of the day. When this concluded it was on to the equally serious club table tennis championship all the while listening to the latest offerings of pop music.
I passed my driving test and started enjoying riding my scooter for fun as a ‘mod’: tiger tails, mirrors, luggage racks, fur hood lined parka jacket with patches.
Tony bought his first 90SS in 1966 and I loved the look of it immediately. The innovative style coupled with superb handling convinced me to get one at any cost.
I was working as an apprentice at Rolls Royce aero engines so I had to wait until early 1967 to take possession of my brand spanking new red 90SS, KHW 203E.
AVVC was very active at the time in attending as many national rallies as possible. We had a core of young, enthusiastic members looking forward to enjoying everything a scooter club could offer.
I was soon travelling the country to enter club gymkhanas, navigation trials, hill climbs and off-road sporting trials. The early years were all about riding our scooters to events, having a great time and riding home. We slept in tents, sometimes in the pouring rain and thought nothing of it.
Eventually, this progressed to squeezing a couple of 90SS into the back of my minivan or three scooters on a trailer towed by Liz Chappell’s VW Kombi. It became commonplace to travel anything up to 200 mile, take part in the event, party most of the night (and more) and back in a weekend to front up for work on a Monday ready to go.
AVVC always acquitted themselves favourably in the trophy department at most events. I remember driving my minivan to a rally – I think it was a Manchester Lyons rally – we left Bristol after work and I couldn’t find the campsite.
By about 1:00 am we attracted the attention of the local constabulary. I don’t know why, in a minivan with the front ends of two 90SS sticking out the back, with the barn doors tied together with string. The cops were great once they knew we had a legitimate reason to be there with our strange transport roaming the streets. They drew a mud map in the dust on the bonnet of the van and wished us good luck!
AVVC started making the annual pilgrimage to the Isle of Man in 1967 after 1966 was cancelled due to the seamen’s strike. The club always had a good turnout on the island, as did many other clubs.
We rode 136 miles (219 km) from Bristol to Liverpool and the excitement started to build as we loaded our scooters onto the Manx Maid or Mona Queen ferry to Douglas across a frequently turbulent Irish Sea.
We stayed at Mrs Whiteside’s B&B for a few years and she put up with our antics with a dour ‘boys will be boys’ demeanour. It is a wonder I survived the early years as I remember after returning from one of the evening functions the group thought it would be a good idea to hang me by my ankles over the balustrading four floors up. If they had not successfully retrieved me I doubt Mrs Whiteside would have been very happy.
I was a young, naive scooterist at that stage more intent on not falling out of a pram (very successfully) and jousting with sacks to knock other pillions off their perch, than considering getting serious in the premier events.
This mindset changed after watching my heroes and legends, such as Luke Kitto, Norrie Kerr, the Ronald brothers, Nev Frost and Ron Moss to name a few perfecting their craft in scootering. Some had a couple of years head start visiting the Island and it showed in their calm, professional, confident approach to the events with their names already gracing the winners’ lists.
We started to make adjustments to our engines to make them as efficient as possible. I attribute a lot of my success to another old friend of mine, Steve Hare who unselfishly devoted as much time and energy to my engine as his own.
I have lost count of the thousands of hours we must have spent getting my race engine to perform to its peak output. Steve was an extremely competent pattern maker at British Aircraft Corporation, while I was serving my apprenticeship as machinist first class at Rolls Royce aero engines, which gave me access to all the machines on the shop floor.
Our skills dovetailed neatly and these days I liken our relationship to Elton John and Bernie Taupin which probably makes me Elton John. Most of the work was conducted in Steve’s back garden shed into the late hours after work.
It took a couple of years to start performing reasonably well in the premier events but by my last visit in 1974 I had achieved some results over the years I was proud of. The highlight in 74’ was ending up third overall behind Luke Kitto and overall champion Andy Smith.
The medals were icing on the cake. The real joy was the friendships, camaraderie, and competing with some of the nicest, most entertaining, fun people in memory.
Over the years I acquired skills with the ability to handle the scooter in rough conditions such as national club rally rough rides, sporting trials and grass track racing. I managed to win the overall champion title in the British Scooter Grass Track Championship, years 1970, ’71 and’ 73.
I competed on a 90SS in Class A (up to 104 cc) and a Primavera 125 in Class B (104-125 cc), Team Race (three riders), Devil-Take-The-Hindmost and handicap races.
Emigrating to Perth, Western Australia after eight memorable years of scootering in late 1974 was a tough decision, made slightly more palatable by the fact of a four-week cruise for ten pounds, where my honorary title is now a ‘ten-pound Pom’.
AVVC rode to Southampton to see us off and it was a bittersweet, emotional farewell. I shipped a Jaguar XJ 12 and a Primavera 125 to Oz but my wife, unfortunately, seized it up which became the demise of the 125.
So began a long hiatus in the wilderness with regards to scootering. I also didn’t know that the 1975 IOM scooter week would be its last and that the scooter sport I had enjoyed for so long would lose its popularity, in its current format, over the years.
I thought I might get into some trail riding and bought a Suzuki 185. For the last twelve years I’ve owned a BMW 1200 GS Adventure inspired by Ewan McGregor in ‘Long Way Down’. It is about to morph into the latest Vespa GTS HPE Supertech.
I have never forgotten the scootering years and the friendships that developed from them. I run a successful business in Australia and until the outbreak of the Corona virus have not had long periods to reflect on those scooter years.
During lockdown I developed an almost obsessive thirst to recapture all aspects of those years much to the amusement of my partner (Margaret) who was never part of those times and doesn’t understand my latest crazy obsession.
In fact, when I recently found my IoM year bars in an old container where they had been languishing for many years she thought I had finally lost the plot with my display of fervent delight. See my lockdown blog project on vesparetro.com (best viewed on laptop or desktop computer).
For the last five years Margaret and I have travelled back to the UK every year for two or three months and have a bolthole in Sand Bay near Weston-Super-Mare. Over the years we have had some great catch-ups with old AVVC friends usually in a hall over a pint with old pop songs in the background.
Long-time mate Andy Llewellyn (AVVC) and I took our wives to the IoM a couple of years ago and while driving around the beautiful island a plan started to germinate: why not buy a retro scooter and come back to try and replicate some of the old photos I found.
Last year I had to return to Australia before my wife due to business commitments. I had been salivating for some time over a webpage from a London based scooter shop featuring a completely restored 1966 Vespa 90SS.
I confided my plans to Andy and he jumped at the chance to view the scooter before dropping me off at Heathrow. I purchased the scooter from the lads at Retrospective Scooters but forgot to tell the Mrs. At the moment, if you look closely, you can just see my nose poking out of the doghouse.
“The best laid plans of mice and men”
Along with a couple of mates the intention was to take our scooters to the Isle of Man last May to once again have some fun on the TT course.
Flights, accommodation and the Manx ferry were booked but Covid-19 took control and travel from Australia to anywhere in the world was, and still is, practically impossible and probably to be avoided at the moment so the trip is on hold, which will make it a 53-year-plus gap between the before and now photos.
I will keep the 90SS in the UK for a couple of years and then ship it to Australia where the weather certainly extends the pleasant riding window.
