My teenage cycling years in the Bristol area
by Martin Jubb
When I was parentally promoted to a Hercules Harlequin with a derailleur I began to learn how bikes were put together and started saving for more interesting accessories than were provided by Messrs Hercules, and many hours were spent studying Holdsworth's little catalogue of wonderfully engineered racing parts like the Campagnolo Gran Sport at 84/- (see image right of Aids to Happy Cycling cover and below, 1954 page 18- the first year the Gran Sport appeared). Also window shopping at Fred Baker's in Gloucester Road, Ernie Brain's in Lawrence Hill, a shop whose name I forget in Ashley Road, Thanet Cycles in Thanet Road, Bedminster, and George Brooks' new shop in Downend. Then there was Keith Body's establishment and Jeff Smith's shop next to Colston' Girls' School in Gloucester Road. I got to be quite friendly with Jeff over the years and sold him my last racing bike, a Jensen, for £25 in the 1960s. Jeff ended up living in Downend and I last heard of him scrambling motorbikes.
After the Harlequin broke its top tube on its way down Lansdown at speed with bags of books hanging from bars and from saddle, it was not long until I had saved or begged enough to afford a trip to London to discuss a new frame from Les Ephgrave. I had studied all the theories of frame angles for a person of my height and knew just what I wanted from the pokey little workshop full of fire and strange smells and noises. It was to be finished in light blue with Campag ends and half chromed front and rear forks, and cost me all of 15 guineas. When I had fitted my 10 speed Campags it felt like a real racer even though I did not yet own sprints and tubs and had only just started breaking in my Brooks to the shape of my teenage bottom. I said goodbye to cotter pins and bought a Gnutti cotterless crank set, a big mistake as the Gnut securing the taper kept coming loose. Now I could study all aspects of time trials and massed starts from the pages of the BLRC "Racing Cyclist" magazine, and look forward to actually competing once I left school. In the meantime I and a couple of friends marked out a 10 mile stretch of the A420 from Cold Ashton to Chippenham and on free afternoons were to be found setting school records. I was adjudged best after I beat 20 minutes for the 10 miles. At least that is my memory, and the road IS downhill most of the way!
The first club I joined was the Volante RC, shortlived I think, but I still remember the wool jersey though not its colours. The secretary's home and therefore club HQ was in Grittleton Road, Horfield, and I wish I could remember the names of club members. I do remember going to some events squashed into a Standard Eight car with about 100 degrees of play at the steering wheel. However, as a Bristol University student it was not long before I was one quarter of the Bristol University CC, and I well recall the other three quarters! Our leader was a long and lanky dentist named Roger Sumner, number two was a real character named Gerry Goodleff, and hanging on was Brian Perkins, much older than us three. Gerry worked at the University Horticultural Research Station which involved a lot of outside work in the Long Ashton orchards. He was fired after the neighbours complained about him sunbathing stark naked on fine days, after that I only remember him as a kind of bum. Somehow or other we fell under the wing of an eccentric private school owner called Ian Souter Clarence. As our self-appointed Team Manager he dictated training and tactics, based on what experience I do not know, and took us to races in his Morris Oxford estate. He had a very glamorous wife who fed us beer during team conferences and was lusted after by all of us. When I last heard of him he was in the news for running a school on extremely right wing lines down south somewhere.
The sole successes I recall from this era are back-to-back wins by me in two Circuits of Halfpenny Down, races of fairly lowly status. More memorable was competing in 3 or 4 day Tour of the South West, in company with local stars like the Sandy brothers, Brian the short one and Peter the tall one. Somewhere in North Devon I reached down to clear wet tar from my rear wheel and promptly fell off. Borrowing a spare wheel from a friend I set off after the bunch, illegally aided by the sweeper van with the broom tied to the roof. Managing eventually to regain the bunch I was surprised to be told I was covered with blood from a cut to the eyebrow caused by my sunglasses, and at the stage finish in Minehead I was carted off to the local hospital for stitches. As in all the best stories the doctor said I would not be riding the next day, but of course I was not to be denied my glory on the morrow and continued. I even got in a small break on the flat roads leading to Weston-super-Mare, and remember being vociferously urged on by Brian Sandy. I have no idea of my finishing position, but was surprised to receive an award of £2 for "meritorious riding" in the results. Apparently the judges were impressed by my bearded and bloody appearance suddenly arriving in the bunch after my crash.
When not being driven to races by our manager we travelled in my newly acquired first car, a 1935 Morris Eight ex-GPO van. Its minimal 3-speed driven horse power had little chance faced by a load of four large men, bikes and stocks of bananas, drinks, liniment etc, and up anything steeper than 1 in ten, two had to exit the van and manually assist its progress. What fun we had! In my final year of study I spent 6 months in Germany and of course took my bike. There I joined a local club and unfortunately had to enter races as a 1st category rider - das ist in die Rules as a Foreigner! I did enter the local marathon race covering 190 miles, and after several punctures I finished with a couple of other ragtags when all spectators had long since gone home. My final two-wheeled impression on the roads of West Germany was a 1500 mile tour in 18 days using Youth Hostels and sending my professor postcards from every major architectural wonder I visited. I fell off once in a tramline and seriously bent a crank. Finding a small garage I showed the offending article to the mechanic who put it on the bench and picked up a large sledgehammer. I protested but he said, "Das ist gutes Materiell!" gave it a massive wallop and bob was indeed my uncle! I believe it was a Stronglight alloy cotterless crank. I lost ten pounds in the 18 days and then blithely consigned my precious steed into the hands of the Deutsche Eisenbahn and British Railways with no worries about it travelling and arriving safely at Dover, accompanied only by a label. Naturally, as it was 1962, it was waiting for me when I arrived on British soil, and I then found I had no money left and had to ride back to Bristol.
Well, motoring and vintage cars took over my life soon after, and the Jensen with all its goodies went to Jeff for a measly £25. Somewhere in a box I still have a large number of old "Racing Cyclists" and an exercise book with details of all the races and TTs I entered. I haven't seen them since moving to the USA but hope to find the right box one day. Meantime I insist on being in charge of the telly during Tour de France time and enjoy Phil Liggett's accent every day for 3 weeks in July. I even have the family cheering Mark Cavendish!
Geoff Lonsdale of the Clevedon & District RC remembers several of the shops Martin mentioned above as he spent much of his teenage years in the sixties cycling around the shops in Bristol.
Fred Baker's was actually in Cheltenham Road and Ernie Brain's in Lawrence Hill. The shop Martin forgot was Overbury's Cycles,
In 1941, Les Cassell rented a workshop in Hove, and registered the business name as "Thanet Cycles ". By about June 1945, his shop opened at 130, Wells Road, Bristol. In 1958, the business was sold to Keith Body, and soon moved to new premises at 180c Cheltenham Road, Bristol. In 1966, Keith Body sold the business to Geoff Smith; the shop finally closed in 1968 (Source:-"Ease with elegance - the story of Thanet Cycles", Hilary Stone, 1986). I recall that at some stage in the later 1960's, the shop moved in its entirety to the adjoining shop in the terrace."
George Brooks' new shop was in Downend.