This series of articles was originally published at: http://www.realclassic.co.uk/ Part 1 can be found here:  https://oldandireland.blogspot.com/2018/11/paddock-days-part-1-getting-mobile-on.html Part 2 can be found here:  https://oldandireland.blogspot.com/2018/11/paddock-days-part-2-practical-jokes-and.html In my early days knocking around the Paddock there were still a few of the more occasional residents that I knew only vaguely.   Their bikes however were well known and a constant source of interest.     And it wasn’t just me, with meticulous nightly inspections being carried out by wandering groups or interested individuals either with or without the owners’ presence.   Walking the line of parked bikes was always something of a ritual.   Amongst a row of fairly standard and well known bikes the exceptions stood out.   A yet to be repaired scuff from meeting the tarmac, often told of recent events long before the owner had a chan...

This series of articles was originally published at: http://www.realclassic.co.uk/ The photos were taken at the Mourne Rally about 1980 or so. There is at least one urban myth about the Paddock that is still circulating in local bars.   I know this because after a recent night out with his now middle aged biking mates, my brother surprised me by recounting the story when I visited him.   What I thought had passed to the realm of a few peoples memory seems, like all good myths, to have developed a life of its own and to have grown with time and grey hair.   But I know the less exotic truth, because I was there.   Let’s call the antihero of this story Boomer, to protect the guilty you understand, for he is now a settled family man and comes complete with a wife, a daughter and a caravan.   It’s a daft name I know, but you should try finding one that hasn’t been used at some point by the myriad of souls who attached themselves to this place, and given th...

This series of articles was originally published at http://www.realclassic.co.uk/ The cartoons are from my FS1E's owners manual. Let’s face it, bikers tend to congregate, and in every town there is a natural meeting place where tyres will be kicked, friends made, deals done and adventures planned.   Ours was known as ’The Paddock’, and was a place of myth and legend long before I finally got my Fizzie onto the road.   It’s long gone now, sacrificed on the altar of increased town centre parking.   As Joni Mitchell said, “They paved paradise……..”, except in this case the Council took one parking lot that had character and significance for at least a few residents, and filled in the space between the piers with rubble to make a huge innocuous tarmac slab.   Oh well.   On day one of my road legality, the rain poured as a saturated wretch, too broke from buying the bike to have afforded waterproofs, rode falteringly into this lion’s den before coura...