65 for 65 Accounts - gross (144) decency

With all the weather, you and I haven’t done much riding by the sounds of it, I've done a little about 1 hr in the last 5 months I guess if that, one of the things that really helped me do mine was a lifting bike stand, worth every penny, might be a good investment in the long run, but I know exactly how things are when the pennies are tight, its been a small miracle that I've got through so far and I'm still job hunting.

Well the M20, known informally as Idris after the wee dragon in Ivor the Engines boiler, is alive and well and seeing as much civilian action as she can take. Having restored a Leyland Hippo over 9 months for the 60th anniversary of the D-Day landings, I promised myself I would do it one year on a motorcycle. My plan was to buy and restore an M20 in time to make the 65 for 65 in Normandy, it was now or never, July 2007. I had no idea what I was doing when I first started, but knew that that it was an all out back to bare metal job. She came in a thick coat of black with two rather knackered mudguards with Indian made repros to go in their place, the most surprising thing was the items I thought would be cheap fixes were the most expensive, still, I managed to get her running, painted, rewired with a modern yet correct cotton covered loom, new regulator, the gearbox needed attention, even missing some spacers and in the end had to be rebuilt twice, as what worked on the bench didn’t work on the bike, its a common trait so we referred to the 60 year old manual as well as the guys and girls on the WDM20 forum and low and behold worked a treat. A little fettling with the clutch went without saying, the plates were renewed but we had to leave one out in the end as they wouldn’t all fit it the basket. After I had everything working riding her was a little different to the modern Japanese sports bikes I had, but the smile on my face was just as big if not better, so as a fitting tribute to my Grandfather who was in the RAF as ground crew whom I was very close to and his Brother, a Lancaster Pilot with 195 Squadron, whom I’d never had a chance to meet, I asked a local canal boat sign writer to put both their names on the fuel tank for me, as well as mark up the tank in the correct way, with the correct C number, on one side the triangle mark of the first British and Canadian troops on the Normandy beaches and on the other, the number 13, 13 is its my daughters birthday, Friday the 13th, and it also happens that M for motorcycle is the 13th letter in the alphabet, hence why we see a lot of 13’s when we look at motorcycles, so I thought that was all rather fitting.

Six weeks prior to leaving for France, disaster, the head gasket was blowing. On taking the top off I’d opened a small can of worms, the barrel was scored, the piston was knackered as well as being a pattern part, however interestingly I’d discovered that I had a rather unique designed head. After consulting with the forum, Ian Wright very kindly took my barrel in, worked his magic and told me not to worry, as there were many people in much more of a pickle than I. Following a trip up to Stamford, I picked my re-lined barrel, Dave sorted me out a NOS piston and so rather nervously I put it all back together. I’d never done a job like this, but I did everything I’d read, got Ian on the phone who talked me through a few things as I sat in the garage infront of the BSA and fired her up, we were back in business and heading to France with only 2 weeks to go until the ferry left.

The journey to France was going to be a once in a lifetime experience, I left home with the blessings and well wishes of my children and the parents of my children’s school, you see I’d decided that I could raise a few pounds for the school by asking for sponsorship from the parents, I’d parked the M20 up in front of the school for two days, morning and afternoon and in the process, I was asked to give the older children a lesson on what I was doing, why and explain to them some of the local ww2 history of the village, the POW’s we had working in the fields, a few stories of RAF Wing, where incidentally I think my Uncle may have flown ex-POWs back to the UK at eth end of the war. To make things a little more interesting I took along some of my bits and bobs, helmets, jackets and gun sights, which they loved hugely, it also gave me great pleasure, especially when I received a thank you card from the whole class and i was able to raise about £230 for the school.

The journey down was perfect, a fully laden Idris and I worked well as a team, taking all the back roads, visiting places I’d never seen, riding through picturesque villages, rolling fields whilst watching the wind blow across the growing wheat and stopping at village petrol stations to top up the tank. After a visit to my friend Ben’s house for the night, it was off to the port, probably taking the route that so many vehicles and men had taken 65 years before me, just magic. First stop in France was the museum at Utah beach, where it just so happened that my mate and his crew were, they’d taken the Hippo we made the trip in 5 years before. On stopping at the museum, we met a guy from the 101st, one of only 5 guys out of his stick it was an honour to meet him, he told us that the two guys sitting next to him were killed by anti-aircraft fire, he was barely able to stand up due to the blood and airsickness, as he jumped the aircraft took a hit in the right engine and exploded and to top it off he was so low that as soon as his chute opened he landed, I knew then that this time away was going to be monumental.

Etreham was our camp site, where I hooked up with all the people I’d been chatting to over the forum, the bar was good and we drank it out of beer, I made many new friends, visited places where I wanted to go, rode the M20 as much as I could take, and always with at least 20 others, which in itself was awesome. Then it was June 6th, Arromanches on the menu, after we’d been to Pegasus Bridge, where I got a chance to see where Barkway landed, my Grandfathers brother, had actually instructed him to fly at Clyfe Pypard. A short meet up to for the Guiness attempt, then the two by two line up which stretched for about a mile and we were off into Arromanches, 150 of us left and 144 of us arrived, I was one of the ones who made it.