The Spagforth Lightning.

The best bike I ever owned was my Spagforth Lightning.
I remember the day I aquired it like it was yesterday. I was working as a tree surgeons assistant. We had been called by an old granny who had an elm tree in her garden afflicted by Dutch elm disease.
It was dangerous and it had to come down. In the course of felling the thing. there was a danger that it might have fallen on the garage, so we took the precaution of emptying the contents and moving them some distance away.
In the garage, amongst all the collected detritus of a bygone age, alongside Singer sewing machines, rolls of carpet, boxes and boxes of bizarre metalic implements, was an old motorcycle.
It glistened slightly through the dust covering. Its tyres needed pumping up, it creaked slightly as I wheeled it to the bottom of the garden, where the bearings had partially siezed.
I fell in love with it instantly.

At the end of a hard couple of days work felling and removing the tree, I enquired as to the bikes status.

"It's my husbands", she said. "But he passed away 20 years ago". "My son was going to do something with it, but he dissapeared in Katmandu 4 years ago".
"If you want it you can have it for the price of getting rid of the tree".

After assuring the boss that I would settle up with him for the price of the job, I took possession, wheeling it into the back of our van quickly so she couldn't change her mind.
No papers came with it so I could never verify its history. No Haynes manual could I discover. The only thing I had to work on were the words emblazonned in gold on the tank. "Spagforth Lightning".

I spent the next few weeks stripping it down. Bearings had to be taken to the bearing shop and matched for size and useage. Tyres were of a standard size and were easily procured. The whole bike was in remarkably good condition considering the length of time it had been standing. Some of the wiring had to be replaced but as a veteran of rebuilding 1970s Japanese bikes this presented me with no problems.
The timeing was easy to set up. All the settings and diagrams of what to do were engraved on the inside of the appropriate engine casings. It was impossible to say if this was standard or had been done by an owner in the past. If it was standard it would not surprise me as the bike was full of those little touches which mark out a thouroughbred.
The previous owner had looked after it, covering it with oil and greasing all the moving parts before leaving it in the garage.
Eventually it was complete. Fresh oil and petrol were inserted into the relevant places. It was time to start her up.
One quick heave on the kickstart and she burst into life.

A deep hearty thudding noise ensued. The sort of noise that, although loud, is never intrusive. Cautiously, I edged the bike onto the road and sans helmet, gloves, MOT, tax, I rode around the block. What a lovely bike. Responsive to the throttle, just enough vibration to let you know you were astride a real bike.

To be continued