As it was such a nice, bright and sunny morning I decided to take Little Willie out for a run. However, she took a bit of convincing to get started, and it was to take quite a bit of priming, tickling, kicking and choking, before Wilhelmina burst into life - or to be more precise, coughed and spluttered into existence!
Once on the move, and with all the excess oil in the carb burned off - leaving a rearward smokescreen that could have concealed the D-Day landing force - she burbled along quite happily. Riding into town, I parked the D7 in our usual place near the Market Cross, and padlocked the steering head lugs.
"D10, isn't it?" asked a man, old enough to know better - borne out by his garb of jeans and winkle-pickers! "I've got a Todd head at home - my father used to race them."
"No," I replied, as politely as possible, "it's a D7..."
"I just knew it was!" he replied, "that's what I was going to say..."
"I was there when they sold BSA off at auction," he continued, and there we stood, talking BSA, Triumph, Excelsior, and Ford Anglia with a V6 engine (I think!), until the cows came home - or at least till the banks opened.
Fortunately, Little Willie had decided she wanted to go home again and made no fuss about starting again, which pleased me - and the audience - immensely!
I think Little Willie likes being the centre of attraction... or is it just me?
I've been the proud owner of a 1965 BSA Bantam D7 since 1991, affectionately known as Little Willie (Wilhelmina) and love to take her out for a ride so that others can see her.