Old Haunts and Favourite Places.

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Nice ride out this morning and just got back before the heavens opened. Sat here in gloomy weather and rain lashing the windows and I got to thinking of summers gone.

My thoughts turned to the John F Kennedy pub in Dewsbury. A true bikers pub.

A journey into nostalgia..

So there I was, a slight, spotty teenager on Shawcross pit stack riding my trusty Bultaco 250 Sherpa T every Saturday and Sunday in the later 1970s. It was a very popular off road venue before the police started getting heavy handed.

For years, we had no problems with the cops until a group of lads brought motcross bikes every weekend and the noise complaints started.

Naturally, I knew a lot of lads on there and got to know some very well. Well enough to let them ride my bike without fear of them having it away. Some had bigger road bikes as well as the motley collection of old bikes they hammered over the stack.

One day they mentioned the John F bike night on a friday evening and I should
come down. So it was with not a few butterflies, I turned up on my pushbike to meet them.
It was amazing, on a good, sunny friday evening there were probably up to 100 bikes there from all the surrounding areas. Never quite seen the like before. As an absolutely bike mad yoof, i was in my element.

I was treated well by most, and often got bought a glass of shandy or coke as I talked and talked about bikes.

Around 9:30 they would start leaving to go to their own local boozers to start having a serious pint or two.
You would get a group of five pull up at the traffic lights opposite, rev up and loft the front wheels as they went, to the cheers of the others.
Then the police panda car watching from down the road would start its engine, put on its blue noddy light and give chase. Usually a shitty morris marina or vauxhall chevette type.

A few minutes later, the car would return and park back in the same spot. I think the coppers loved it as much as the lads. Never heard of them actually catching anyone.

Summers passed and having started my apprenticeship, I used to turn up on my Fizzie. Again I was treated great and was allowed by the landlord, Ted to approach the bar and order my own pint of coke.

Summers passed again, my fizzie morphed into a RD200, DT175mx, a 250 Superdream, a 400/4 and laterly a plastic maggot, a well underated bike and a supreme bike rally tool.
A lot of fantastic evenings both Friday and Saturday was spent in the John F.

Then my friends and I realised that the John F was not really the place to get regular female "company" and our regular uniform of black leather jacket with cuttoff levi jacket over the top ( i still have that jacket), jeans with beer towels sewn to them and bike boots were changed for "fashionable" clothes. All wrangler striped jumpers and stretch pinstripe jeans and the destination was the local nightclubs.

Females met, females did not want anything to do with a bikers pub, so very rare visits.

Still interested in bikes mind. So married, divorced and with a honda CB900F, I thought to take more interest in the John F again. By this time, it was probably around the early 90s, biking was on its arse and friday bike night was no longer a thing, it was still a biker type pub, the jukebox was still legendary if you were into rock and metal and some of the old lads were still around.

You know the types, return 10 years later and the same blokes, dressed exactly the same as before, still sat at the same table and seemingly not aged at all as if they have been stuck in a time warp.

So more great nights catching up and getting ratted.

Met the present missus and although not a biker chick type, enjoyed touring on the bikes and was amenable to drinking in biker type pubs. She loved the John F and it transpired that she used to go in at the same time as I when I was in my late teens.
Never met her though, at that time she was a plastic punk. I do remember someone who looked vaguely like toyah with bright red hair, it may have been her.

Ted for some reason, only started opening sporadically, maybe one weekend a month, sometimes two and we moved away from the area.

That move was 20 years ago. I gather the John F is still there but dunno if it still opens.

It holds a very special place in my heart. It looks completely run down in the pic which was taken in 2018. My favourite place to watch the bikey goings on was leaning against the pillar to the right of the door.
The drink changed from shandy or coke to cider, then lager. First drink i had outside was a coke, I was a schoolboy on a pushbike. Last drink I had I was in my early 40s, on my second (happy) marriage, with kids and a Honda CB1300.

Its a wonder I have not worn a hole in the pavement. Thanks for many years of truly great times John F.
https://i2-prod.examinerlive.co.uk/incoming/article14336172.ece/ALTERNATES/s1200e/JS144695885.jpg

Well than passed on a hour or so and it is sunny outside again..
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Wading through the thick tapestry of life one day at a time.

[stinkwheel]

We used to meet in the Southsider in Edinburgh. I rarely used to take my bike because it wasn't really all that far to walk from my flat.

One night I'd had a few and my mate offered to give me a lift up the road in his MZ combination. I asked if I should stand in the chair and pretend I was surfing on the way home teenwolf style. We both decided this was a great idea.

About halfway back, I noticed there was a police car behind us. Decided to just style it out. You could see a fairly animated conversation going on in the car, from the hand gestures it was something along the lines of "Is he allowed to do that? "Dunno. Shouldn't he be wearing a helmet?", "I don't think he does. If we stop them, what do we do them for?" "Dunno, let's just leave it eh?"
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“Rule one: Always stick around for one more drink. That's when things happen. That's when you find out everything you want to know.”
I did the 2010 Round Britain Rally on my 350 Bullet. 89 landmarks, 3 months, 9,500 miles.

[jeffyjeff]

[tinkicker]

Seems someone has made a recent video the John F. I am saddenned to hear that the landlady Sue died a few years ago.

Nothing lasts, everything changes. When I was 17 I thought I would live forever and can remember those times vividly. Where did it all go?

61 now. When I say that, it seems like I am talking about someone else. Me? 61?

Nah mate, you must be thinking of someone else.

Way I used to ride, I never thought I would see 30.

Anyway, pub as it is today.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=zcyxwVjuFgM
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Wading through the thick tapestry of life one day at a time.