So there I was: I’d just found a location to get some moody shots of the excellent Street Bob Special, and I heard a ‘hello Andy’ from an MPV going under the bridge.
It was an old friend, Andy Peever, who was just off to give his brother, Dave, a hand.
You might remember Dave’s Dyna Glide Custom from AmV1. If you go back much further, in a feature called Motley Crewe in an issue of BSH in the 1980s, Andy was on his stunning Kawerda, alongside Dave’s Z1000 chop and another friend Sav on his single cam 750 Honda chop. I knew where he was going because I’d just dropped in to see Dave about some welding and smiled at the thought of Andy telling Dave that he’d just seen me under a railway bridge, and Dave already knowing all about it.
Except that didn’t happen because Andy parked up round the corner, and that’s him walking back to make sure I was okay: that I hadn’t run out of petrol or something equally foolish?
So we stood and chatted for a good few minutes, talking about the Low Rider S, Andy’s own Super Glide Sport – which, now I think about it, would make a great feature for this issue – and life went back to normal.
He apologised for ruining the shot and I explained that’s what Photoshop is there for, but not on this one because it reminded me of a day many years ago when another friend stopped to see if I was okay.
That friend was ‘Percy’, a personable but unassuming fella that I’d known him from my Triumph days, and while he couldn’t do much to help me with a rear wheel puncture on a Shovel FLH, I appreciated him stopping – on his way out and on the way back, because the recovery truck hadn’t turned up yet – because it’s good to know that people are looking out for you.
It’s particularly poignant because I got a phone call from another friend, Hector, on Saturday morning to make sure I knew that Percy had died after a short illness.
I’d seen Percy around at Riders’ Club gigs for the last few years because while he’d still got his Triumph, he was also running a Dyna and put a serious number of miles on it. He and his wife Helen had just come back from France and Spain and were planning to hit European Bike Week. And while I can’t remember the last time I went to his house – I think I might have been riding a Triumph at the time, which must make it more than thirty years – I’ll miss him and I hope that someone is looking out for him now, wherever he is, and for Helen who must be devastated.
Appreciate your friends: none of us are here forever.