I always knew I’d get a motorbike, dad and my uncles raced stock cars and had owned plenty of bikes and rad vehicles in the past, I remember the big old 60’s Honda Dream dad had in storage, but unfortunately I never got to see that running, bikes just always appealed to me more than cars, although they still have a big place in my heart. he would reminisce about his youth, him being a rocker and getting into all sorts of trouble with the mods and police, the gang mentality and his beloved leather jacket that got stolen!
One of the many photographs from the scrap car days,
Uncle Alan, The infamous Graystone Rebels Jag being raced by Uncle Kev
Growing up we had a Honda 70 trike that we’d ride around the beach and the fields and my bro save up his paper round money to get a scrappy little DT50 with a duck tape seat that we’d razz around on.
teeny tiny me on the Honda 70
My bro and I having fun on the old DT
I left home at 15, young and pissed off, I wanted to find my place in the world, knowing that I didn’t belong where I was. I was poor, living on benefits, in a damp, freezing cold flat, with a smack dealer next-door and some old hippies that grew weed upstairs, I’d work shitty weekend jobs to fund myself through college and draw posters for shops in exchange for clothes to keep myself looking fresh! The luxury of owning a motorcycle was a far away dream, to get my wheel fix I took up inline skating, before moving to Skateboards, I met some of the best people all over the UK in that scene that I will treasure forever.
I think I was about 18/19 now, I had no plans on going to university, as I was already a practicing illustrator, but one of my college tutors could see my potential and convinced me it was my best option and it was, not because of the education, that was honestly a massive waste of time, but I got a LOAN! From being such a poor kid, who’d already experienced a lot, having a couple of thousand pounds wired into my account felt like I’d won the lottery, fuck spending that on getting pissed up, I’d already been there and no one really spends it on books and stuff do they? Naaaah! I knew exactly what that money was going on, getting my motorbike licence!!!!
I Booked a deal with unlimited lessons, so I could take it at my own pace and learn as much as I could before going out on the roads alone, once I passed my test, I struggled to find a bike for me, not knowing anything about makes and models, even 125’s felt massive to me, I was tiny. I spotted a Yamaha SR125 in midnight blue across the showroom and headed directly towards it knocking over everything in my path ( that last bit may or may not have been added for dramatic effect )
I sat on her and I knew instantly this lil Yammy was mine.
One of the only pics I have of the SR,
before camera phones above 1 megapixel!
I couldn’t believe I owned a motorcycle!!! Little me, the girl who couldn’t afford to eat or buy new clothes, I was in love for the first time in my life, I was so proud.
Well we had some adventures, that little Yammy and I, let me tell you, haha. L plates off and I was straight on the motorway, nothing could stop me, I mean coaches could overtake me but I could hit 80mph ………downhill………with the wind beind me, but so what! I was freeeeeeeee!
I had full Hein Gerricke leathers that swamped me and the most hideous Childs road helmet with assorts of aerodynamic fins and shapes going on, it was the only one that would fit my tiny pea head, there was none of these nice retro styled helmets or protective clothing back then, man we’re spoilt with choice now. My full waterproof suit was a regular saviour of freezing cold, wet rides up and down the country, I would ride every day from Huddersfield to Leeds, rain or shine, unstoppable!!!
That lil Yammy never let me down, not once!
I had already moved homes and towns a handful of times since I’d left home, but I ended up in Leeds, I found my first sense of belonging in that city, it was exciting, so much going on, a good link to the motorways and rest of the UK plus it was surrounded by beautiful countryside, we’d ride up to Otley Chevin on the regular, my little Yammy and I.
One morning I woke up, I went to check on the Yam, and it had gone….
Devastated doesn’t even begin to explain how I felt, it’d been stolen in the night and burnt out a few miles away!
That bike was so much more than just a bike, as they often are I know. But that was my first taste of freedom, it helped make me who I am, I mourned like I’d lost a loved one, crying myself to sleep time and time again, knowing that even with the insurance money I’m not going to be able to afford another bike.
I was so down, after uni, I struggled to find work and my illustration career had grinder to a halt after all the analyses and ‘constructive’ criticism bullshit that I had to endure as a young, delicate artist.
I had to start from the bottom up, working for recruitment agencies doing waitressing and bar work for below minimum wage, struggling to get by. It wasn’t until a few years later that I had more regular bar work that I could afford to get another bike in instalments. It was a Yamaha Dragstar, I never bonded with that bike, it was so easy to ride that it bored the shit out of me, kinda like new Harleys, hahahaha, sorry people, they just have zero character, but at least I was on 2 wheels again and my freedom and journey through this life on 2 wheels could commence! My heart still hurts when I think of that cute little Yammy being set on fire by some opportunistic cunts!
The Dragster that I sold just after this photo,
look how stoked I am to see the back of it, haha, onwards and upwards!
