The Start
As many of our newsletter readers know, I have been given the opportunity to go to Andover Norton International, Ltd in Andover, England. As I write this, I am on the first leg of the trip… at about 20,000 ft. on my way to Washington Dulles International. While it may only be the first leg of 2025, this trip actually started on September 24, 1976. That is the day my father rode into the driveway on his “new-to-him” 1974 Norton Commando Interstate. I only remember a small portion of that day as I was only 6 years old – but that memory is a great one. It was the day my Dad was “Cool.”
According to my older brother, Dad had never really ridden motorcycles before, but a lot of his friends had them. We were living in Spain at the time, and some of them had their Harley’s shipped over from the US. Well, Dad wanted to ride with them, but didn’t want something small since he was a tall guy. He also didn’t know what he wanted, so when he found the Norton at a great price ($1200 Spanish), he bought it.
When he rode into the driveway on the bike, I can still see that big “shit-eatin’-grin” on his face. He loved to joke around and so I knew that look well… it meant he had done SOMEthing to SOMEone. Turns out, it was my Mom… she showed up some time later and apparently was pi… really upset! She was mad because “Dad rode the bike so fast I couldn’t keep up with him!” (Dad remembered that story even through the ravages of Alzheimers, and laughed every time he told it!)
When everyone had come over and saw the bike, the adults went inside. Just before Dad closed the door, one of us kids must’ve asked if we could touch it, because he said “Yup, just stay away from the shiny parts.”
As soon as he closed the door, my older brother pointed and said “Dare you to touch that!”
Well, li’l guy that I was I couldn’t pass on a dare! So, like the little idiot I was, I walked right up and… burnt my finger on the exhaust. Not sure of much else after that, but knowing my brother, I’m sure he talked his way out of trouble.
Anyway, we’re about to land and I have to make my connection so I will end this part of the story. Needless to say, I have great memories of my Mom and Dad on that bike, and this journey is going to be full of memories of them. Mom and Dad… thank you for bringing that bike home that day. Little did you know how much it would mean to me almost 50 years later.
Day 1 at Andover
Ashley picked me up at 7:30 in his personal vehicle. I started the trip by giving him a good laugh when I opened the right hand side of the car to get in… and paused.
“I don’t think you want to drive just yet,” he said.
I thought to myself, “Way to make a good first impression in the UK!”
After we stopped laughing, he took some backroads along the way to the shop so I could see some of the countryside. Absolutely beautiful, but the hedgerows on some of the back roads made me a bit nervous that a random deer might jump out and hit the car at any moment. The hedgerows are kind of high and very close to the road – you won’t see it until you hit it.
We arrived at the Andover Norton shop just as everyone else was arriving…
So, a lot of introductions were made. As many of you know, I’m absolutely horrible at remembering names, so it took me a while to figure out who everyone was. I have more work to do tomorrow for the people I didn’t interact with much today. However, just because I may not remember their names doesn’t mean they weren’t wonderful people… everyone I met was very nice and welcoming.
After getting a tour of the parts shop (and cleaning up the trails of drool I left) we went to the workshop, where I felt a calmness wash over me at the comforting smell of the oil, grease, and gasoline reached my nose. They have a great workshop, and I felt very welcome. After I had a cup of coffee (instant, Nescafe!), I met with Steve in the office to briefly chat about the website. That didn’t last long since the phone started ringing soon afterwards, and I also heard the familiar sounds of a motorcycle engine starting.
Karl was outside with Will and Ralph getting some of the bikes out of their winter hibernation in preparation for some riding later this week.
Being well cared for, they (mostly) started right up. One of them was being a bit stubborn, but after some sweet talking, she purred to life. Next thing I know, Karl is telling me to take one around the parking lot, a ‘55 Dominator. Not to be too crude, but I almost had to adjust myself before I could safely lift a leg over the bike. Oh, how nice that bike rides! Not sure how it will feel out on the road for a long period of time, but I’ll be sure to find out and let you know.
After taking a few spins on some bikes, I started doing something that is right up my alley, putting new pipes on one of the company bikes. It felt great just doing something “normal” when everything around me for the last two days has been “foreign” (literally). Before long, it was lunch time, where I had a sandwich and soda from the food truck. Not just any soda, Fanta Orange soda. Not the Fanta Orange soda we’re used to, but the Fanta Orange soda from my childhood when I lived in Spain. It’s different. Not sure why, but it is. And it brought back memories of having dinner at my favorite restaurant with my family, all of whom have been in my thoughts a lot this trip. Especially Dad.
After lunch, Ashley took me with him to fill up one of the petrol tanks. Did I say “took me with him?” I meant to say, “Had me drive him,” because that’s what he had me do. I think it was a test to see if they really wanted to let me use their company car in the evenings. I think I did ok – Ashley only had to remind me no more than 10 times to watch out for the curbs on the left, and I did end up getting to take the car back to the hotel. Rather than go right to the petrol station, he had me drive out to the Thruxton racetrack so I could see the “fastest racetrack in the UK.” Not only that, but Norman White’s workshop is out there as well. We stopped and spoke to him for a while. What a great experience. For the giant he is in Norton history, he is a very down-to-earth and a pleasant person to speak with.
The history in that workshop, the photos, trophies, plaques, and motorbikes, should become a museum. I had the privilege of seeing an old project of his that he worked on with a few of the original designers back in the day, and got to hear him talk about how that project came about. Hearing him tell the story is not the same as if you saw him tell the story in an interview or a historical book. I was actually standing in the workshop, listening to the man who was there tell the story to me. The story was both funny and very interesting, and this experience will probably be one of the most memorable of my trip.
Once we got back to the shop, I returned to working on the MKIII. There’s more to the story than what I am comfortable with putting in this story right now, but there IS a reason it took me so long just to put on an exhaust system. Let’s just say that I was doing something that I absolutely love doing; those that know me will understand.
At the end of the day, Karl allowed me to take one of the company cars back to the hotel, which I greatly appreciate. I successfully navigated my way back to the hotel (what did we ever do without GPS?) and took some time to relax and absorb the day. I am now in the lounge enjoying having dinner and drinking a Rekorderlig Premium Swedish Cider as I recount my day with you. Afterwards, I’ll take a leisurely stroll through the grounds of this wonderful Hotel before heading back to my room to rest up for tomorrow. I’m going to need my rest. Rumor has it we are taking some bikes out to a Pub for lunch! Wish me luck!