Club member Ron Hollingsworth invited us all to a show that he was organising in Barnsley: the South Yorkshire Classic Bike Parade/Show. It turned out to be a show with a difference, a show with go. Bored of the traditional classic show format, with endless rows of silent bikes parked in a hall, Ron had decided to include track sessions in his outdoor event. We would all get our chance to have a couple of sessions parading our bikes on the track, he assured me.

As we arrived we were shepherded through scrutineering and then directed to an area set aside for the decade our bike was manufactured in. By mid-morning there was a fair amount of tackle parked up in these areas, with bikes from every decade since the 50s. Exotic machinery like an indecently trick Harley Davidson nestled alongside CX500s, Manx Nortons alongside C15s. This was going to be fun.

Before the first session got under way, the sound of a raucous single being warmed up curtailed all paddock conversation. Some bloke in scruffy leathers was revving up an even scruffier Manx/Velo hybrid. “Bloody hell,” said my mate, “that¹s Bill Swallow”. Mr Swallow is familiar to all classic racing fans for his giant-killing rides on the Velo/Manx and his outings on a varied range of classic machinery, notably on the Isle of Man. His racing career began in the 60s and his performances at Aberdare Park and Scarborough are legendary, if that¹s not too big a word.

However, the sessions began with the 50s bikes and some very rapid twins were soon circulating behind the pace marshall’s NC30, sometimes threatening to overtake the modern sportsbike. What was interesting was that the fastest riders weren¹t always on the fastest bikes... except for Bill Swallow, who just went like the clappers. Next, up came the 60s bikes and again some fine machinery took to the track. As the 70s boys started circling the track I started to get a dry throat, I was itching to get out there. Eventually I lined up alongside a wide range of 80s machinery, from sportsbikes to grey porridge. About then I started to have misgivings about my tyre choice. I’m not comparing myself to a GP rider agonising over compounds, it¹s just that the XBR was still fitted with the square section front tyre and cheap Shinko rear that I’d fitted simply because I had them laying around and I was broke. The gate opened and I can truthfully say that I didn’t give a flying fart about the tyres for the next 10 minutes. Any notion that this was a ‘parade’ was soon forgotten as we started scrapping and scratching. Halfway through the session a black GB appeared alongside me and then pulled away. I wasn’t having that, beaten by a bike that was so highly polished that you could use the engine cover as a mirror. I tried pretty hard but I couldn’t catch him.

All too soon the session was over and we were waved off the track. Cruising up to the black GB I discovered that I’d been blown off by Ron himself, the bugger. I couldn¹t hold it against him though, after the 90s session he¹d slotted in a ‘singles-only’ session just to let the spectators hear the sound of real motorbikes. As we lined up we were greeted by the sight of Bill Swallow wearing an orange vest. Some genius had decided to send him out as the pace marshall, this was going to be interesting to say the least. The session was a fantastic experience, scrapping with all sorts of singles from a Manx to a Honda CB250; Ron was circulating at high speed again and another club member, Dave Keeling, was also leaving me for dead. Beaten by a bloody SR, again! It was great fun.

Back in the paddock I ambled over to Bill Swallow (it was the closest I got to him all the day) and, plucking up the courage, I asked him to become an honourary member of the Thumper Club. To my amazement he said the idea sounded fine. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Jethro went out in the 90s session on his indecently fast Yamaha Diversion sidecar outfit. We’d stayed at a campsite on a farm the previous evening and the family that run it had come along to the show. Jethro gallantly offered to take their lad out in the chair. For 20 laps this young fella was scared out of his wits by Jethro’s enthusiastic drifting and wheel-raising antics. In his next session he took out the cowman from the farm. I spent the whole of that session chuckling as the spectators groaned and shrieked as Jethro and his cowman careered around, harrying sportsbikes.

After Jethro had reduced the cowman to a jelly-legged wreck, we had to depart for Wales. Adjusting to riding on the Queen’s highway was pretty difficult after all that fun, but 100 miles later the adrenaline had mostly worn off. At a tea stop near Gloucester we talked it over and we decided that this was one event to pencil into the diary for next year, and we think you should come too. Thanks to Ron for inviting us all along, it was the best fun that I’ve had for ages (don¹t tell my wife), and I really think that you¹d like it too. See the Events page for further details.