BSSO Scooter Racing 2008

Why do we do it?

“What the hell do we put ourselves through this for?” I asked, as much to myself as to Scotty, who was in the process of throwing another expensive crash helmet at a tyre wall.
We were sitting on the edge of Three Sisters circuit in 27 degree sunshine, sweating buckets, the race we’d hoped to do well in had roared off leaving us frantically pushing the bike out of the small puddle of petrol and into the deep grass and dried cuttings which were now stuck all over our rusty frame. The frame I’d spent the whole winter polishing, which had been gleaming just a fortnight before when I arrived at Donington for the disappointing first race of the season.
In the sweltering, hot, dry, noisy hour that followed the first shout of the marshall to push the bike even further into the hay that was making such a mess of it, I had plenty of time whilst dehydrating to ponder “why?”
I had been involved with scooters for about four years before I went racing, a problem with my Vespa 50 special a few months after my sixteenth birthday in ’84 had led me somewhere I would have never gone by myself.
Legendary amongst the young mods of Colchester there was a man who could tune scooters to do a hundred mph, one of his hands was a vice, his forearms were anvils and he breathed oxy-acetaline .
The only thing he hated more than sixteen year old mods was Vespas
My cousin’s boyfriend Rob worked with” a bloke who could fix them” and even raced them, I was to push it to his house and leave it there, which I did. I remember being impressed by the blue and gold Armando’s PX225 on the drive, nobody was in so I left the bike there and waited. A week or so went by which is a long time when you’ve just got your first scooter, and I asked Rob for news of my bike. “He’s taken it to his mate’s to fix it” Rob said, “you’ve got to go and see him” he then wrote down the address which sent a shiver right through me as I recognised it. Had it been on a treasure map it would have said “here there be dragons”!!
My scooter was at John Howe’s house!!!, and I was going to have to go round there myself to ask about it!! . There was no doubt in my mind, I was going to die!
I would have agonised for hours before making the journey on foot to John’s house, “de modded” myself completely I imagine, a capped sleeved grey Lonsdale would have gotten under the radar, Moccasins?, no! Trainers in case I need to run for it!
Needn’t have bothered!
Having walked across the allotments to John’s back yard the only response to my knocks was a giant Doberman foaming at the mouth trying to kill me from behind the flimsy back door. The trainers came in handy as I ran home as fast as I could. I barely noticed the 20 odd Lambrettas in various states of repair and decomposition that were parked and leaned around the back yard, I had spotted the racing sidecar though, a Lambretta frame with handlebars welded onto the actual forks, halfway down from the top of the damper. Madness! . This just reinforced that the man who had my scooter wasn’t even human. The next time I called was even scarier… he was in!!
The devil dog had a name “Rosco” and a partner in crime “Haze” they were both friendly when in the presence of their boss, who didn’t actually tie me up and set fire to me at all, he was pleasant enough and said he’d look at my bike during the week and I should call in next Sunday.
He said that every Sunday for the next two months!!
When finally he realised he’d probably be plagued by these visits forever John finally took a spanner to my 50. In the time it took him to say “what do you want a bloody Vespa for anyway?” the top end was off and a broken piston in his hand. The next day rebored and reborn I had my 50 special back on the road!
More than that, I’d met John Howe and survived to tell the tale. I was a legend myself!
Over the next few years as I began riding Lambrettas myself I would occasionally drop in to John to get bits and pieces repaired. We’d talk and drink tea we became mates. The mod scene had run out of steam for me, the SX 200 now covered in blankets, was replaced by a 1963 Sunbeam Alpine, but “Millions like us” was a bit of an overstatement by 1987. Still loving scooters but not the national rallys, going racing with John seemed a great way of staying involved and so he built me a sidecar.

This man ruined my teenage years!
It was a far cry from the one in his yard, technology had taken over, these bikes were built by John & a man called John Fiddaman, who along with his brother Mick had made racing sidecars for none less than George O’Dell world champion in 1976. It cost a fortune for all the parts but was incredible, so good in fact that 3 of them have been seen returning to the track in the last 2 years, 20 years after they were built.
A passenger was appointed “Itchy Pete” he’s a story all by himself, and a race entered.
I’ll never forget the absolute terror I felt the night before my first race meeting, I lay awake praying somebody would steal the bike in the night and I would have a dignified excuse not to race. This feeling to some degree lasted for the first year. It wasn’t like we were going that fast, we were lapped most races.



Early days, Scotty aged 3 tries out the Lambretta Outfit
A not very distinguished race career followed for the next few years, the highlight briefly leading a race at Pembrey after a “Le Mans” start. The low point writing off a car and caravan (both belonging to my parents) and closing the M4 for 3 hours in the process during a failed trip to Pembrey.
2 Houses finally finished off my racing hobby, the one I bought which took all the money I had, and “Acid House” which took me to warehouses around the M25 in the early hours of most Sunday mornings spreading love in a flowery T’shirt.
My lasting memories were being out of breath from bumping the bike in leathers, and the pains in the left wrist from gear changes with all your weight on your forearms. (I should have got some of them anvils)
I’d moved to London, but when my Mum passed away in 1999 I found myself back in Colchester most weekends and spending a lot of time with John at the Jahspeed workshop, as much to keep my dad occupied as anything else I started to restore a small frame Vespa while I was there, always ably assisted by my nephew Scotty who lived with Mum & Dad. It was great fun and once finished we needed another project. There was a rusty old racing sidecar frame at the Jahspeed workshop and I’d read articles about the potential of auto engines…”let’s build an auto sidecar”
So we did, by the time it was ready to go on the track Scott was old enough to be a passenger and we hit Elvington for the 2 to last race of the season.
The night before raceday the same terror came back to me but it did pass quickly this time.
We started with small goals like not getting lapped , or trying to keep the leaders in sight for a whole lap and worked our way up to a reliable mediocrity but it was great fun.
Then bumping into Ryan Saxelby at Ty Croes we shifted up a gear (on an auto??)
He built us an engine which took us from our usual back of the grid, to first into the hairpin at Pembrey the first time we rode it. Unbelievable. A bit of bedding in was required, the increase in revs was a bit of a strain on our set-up but shortly we were at the front, we won a race! we were often second.



Heading for our first race win at Cadwell Park
The narrow back wheel of our unsprung direct drive outfit appeared to be all that stood between us and world domination. Back to the cashpoint. A proper formula 350 chassis is all that would do now, we’re certainly not going to win on ability alone. As soon as we’ve got that fat back tyre they’ll be eating our dust!
We got it at the beginning of last year and of course it wasn’t the start world domination at all, it’s a whole new set of problems to overcome. Mounting the engine, getting drive through a chain, getting fuel through a pump…



This is doom! The F350 chassis at the track for the first time
…So that’s why we were stuck there in the middle of the circuit. Whilst everyone else took part in an incredible race, we were sweating out there, and out there we were forced to stay for nearly an hour without water, till the meeting was over and we could be towed back in.
All the problems were solved though this little fuel leak was the final piece of the Jigsaw, that night a gauntlet was thrown down…”if we don’t beat you tomorrow John I’ll run naked across the circuit once the racing’s finished!!”
Did we though?
No! of course not!
If these are teething problems the bike has more teeth than a great white shark, more fuel problems meant more time camped at the side of the circuit, more pushing, back through the hot paddock.
No finishes had one advantage the bet was off (till next time) no streak was required. A couple of dejected days after being back home and vowing not to put myself through it all again, I can’t stop thinking about cradle and drive figurations that will work. A complete rebuild and powder coating the frame is on the cards before we race again. Will all the problems be solved? Unliklely…
So why do we put ourselves through this?
Whether pushing for first place or trying not to be last, the adrenaline rush is the same, the fear “my god this is too fast” which eventually turns to hunger “why won’t this thing go any faster!!” are great feelings too.
The race around the paddock to find someone who may have a spare link for your broken chain, and the race to get it fitted before you are called for the next actual race are equally exciting. Even if you need hindsight sometimes to fully appreciate it. There isn’t time during the racing day to think about work, or any other outside stresses or any inclination to talk in the evening about anything other than the day’s near misses successes and failures.
Even after the most tiring & stressful weekend of racing having slept in a trailer and survived on a diet of nasty burgers and instant coffee, I return to normal life thoroughly de-stressed and refreshed and I think more than trying to win that’s oddly, why we do it.



There are times when you need metal and anything you can get will have to do, one of John’s saucepans is sacrificed to repair a damaged seat unit.



Saucepan fitted we’re ready to go!


Steve Chapman - Mr. Tumnus!