CANADA, CLASSIC BIKES & THE ACE CAFE
by Dave Morgan
I remember about ten years ago being at the Cannes Film Festival, doing the usual round of parties, photocalls and premieres, when the little French town became besieged by the European Hog Rally. Now it's real easy, when you're competing with four hundred other photographers, working sixteen hours a day and trying to party, to get a bit distracted. So, after a few jars with some Irish Hoggists I thought, bugger the red carpet, and off I went down the Cote d' Azure in search of some Euro Hogs. I found them, had a great weekend, got some good yarns and snaps out of it, and as you do in France, got back to chasing celebrities, via a lift with the local baker in his little Citroen van, whilst of course nursing a grinding Gallic hangover.
Cameras on fast-forward and here I am at this year's Toronto Film Festival, enjoying a beer with my mate, local paparazzo, John White. We had our conversation disturbed by a beautifully restored Norton Commando whose rider, looking 20 years younger than his bike, parked up and came into the pub.
Being the nosey git I am, and sensing a yarn, I approached the bike with the due respect and admiration I could see it deserved. Owning such beauties must endow the riders with a sixth sense of care for their charges, because inevitably out came the Norton's owner to make sure I was being nice.
Michel (that's a bloke, in Canada) Mersereau told me he bought a customised engine and some frame parts from Roger Burtnik at his garage, TON-UP-BIKES, and did the rebuild himself. He also told me of a transcontinental trip he did on a 73 TR7V down Route 66 to California back up to Vancouver and back across Canada and remembers it as the best experience of his life. Promising to meet him again next year, I ambled back for another pint of Honey Brown.
Now, towards the end of the Toronto Film Festival it gets a bit quiet during the day, and that's when my mate John takes me for my annual trip to the Bass Pro Store.
Unless you've been to one of these stores, you've not seen anything like it. Four football fields in size, and inside, from mountain lions to mooses (?!), beavers to grizzly bears they're all here, all stuffed, all dead - and the store sells every possible means of rendering these animals into the tourist-friendly state they find themselves in. Bows, blowpipes, guns, knives, rods, slingshots and you could do a two-hour catwalk show on all the camo gear they sell. I digress.
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After leaving the store, John decides to give his Aussie mate another treat by setting off to find TON-UP-BIKES, as mentioned in the pub the night before.
We pull up on an industrial estate, and find a "busy" looking office, we decide to look around the back, come to a roller door,so back around the front and we give a shout. Out comes a guy in overalls looking a bit perplexed at the two Hawaiian shirts in front of him.
After a quick chat, Roger decides we're cool and invites us into his workshop.
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I actually didn't notice stepping through the doors of the Tardis as I entered Rogers's lair but all I could see was Nortons, BSAs and Triumphs, all sizes, all ages, from mint to manky.
TON-UP-BIKES is no "motorcycle emporium" selling retro rocker dreams made in Asia. It is, as the name suggests, the dirty finger nails end of the business. It is Roger's Shed.
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Michel had already shown me the standard of TON-UP-BIKES works on his Norton and it was apparent just by looking around that Roger lives and breathes British motorcycles. He told me that he restores, builds, maintains, repairs and most of all, rides British classics. His favourite bike to work on he told me was the Norton Commando as they were still easy to find, fairly cheaply, south of the border. He showed me one of his Commandos that had won first prize at the North American International Motorcycle Supershow and it was superb.
When I asked him how come his bikes for sale were fairly inexpensive he said "It's the weather, over here we can only ride for six or seven months of the year". With Canada and Australia having similar populations it would be interesting to know the difference in total bike registrations, based on what Roger reckons.
Another couple of days in Toronto and it was off to the UK for ten days before heading home to Sydney.
The Mecca for classics bikers, or at least the 50s and 60s versions, must be the Ace Café in London. A bikers café in the 50s, it has been restored to its former glory, and some, to become the London's Rockers' version of the Hard Rock Café. The food available will most definitely remind you of a roadside caff, half a century ago. Like all successful bars, clubs, pubs or cafes, it's the clientele and in this case also what they ride in on, that makes the Ace so special. Most weekends are like a bike show on the forecourt and it gets packed. I was at the Ace's first reunion in 94 when 7,000 bikes turned up, and since 96 the Ace's Ride with the Rockers Day to Brighton has become one of the biggest biker celebrations in the World.
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Maybe next year, 15 years after my first visit to the Ace, I can shoot a yarn on their ride with the Rockers Day to Brighton and enjoy a seafront ice-cream and a Reynolds bike chain with a couple of old Lambretta riding Mods. Better not forget to bring back a stick of Brighton Rock for Boris!
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David Morgan is, by occupation, a paparazzo. When travelling, he would like to travel first class, stay in five star hotels, eat in the best restaurants and get up to all kinds of expensive mischief, just like the celebrities he harasses.
In reality, he gets an around the world economy ticket, dosses with friends and rellies and eats out of supermarket shelves and hot dog stands.
He recommends Hemmingway's Bar & Grill, The Aviator Bar and P. J. O'Brien's in Toronto. Whilst in London "Dick Steels" in Belsize Park and the curry houses of the East End's Brick Lane quench his thirst and feed him well.
He also thinks you should check out Ton-Up-Bikes, the The Ace Cafe, Hemmingways, Bass Pro and Michel Mersereau.
