Irish Gin . Strictly speaking , as a year 2000 bike , mine was too young to take part in the vintage run but on inspection of the engine number , it showed a nine and an eight next to each other so my host decided it must have been manufactured in 1998 which made it fit the criteria . I went along with that if it made everyone happy .
I don ’ t go on group runs very often as usually they are not at an enjoyable pace for me but as we left , the couple ’ s Matchless led at a reasonable speed and I kept up as I followed , not having to think where I was going for a change .
We were meeting the others at Lurgan on the edge of Lough Neagh , so large it is like an inland sea .
Brownlow Hall had a grand entrance as we assembled on the drive . I wandered about and found a statue of a greyhound so successful that even Queen Victoria came here to visit it . But the history of this mansion includes more than a fast dog as we learned in the museum . It was a base for American servicemen to assemble in huge numbers from January 1942 . Churchill had demanded hospitality to be of ‘ the very highest standard ’ and it didn ’ t get much grander than this Lurgan pile .
Extensive training manoeuvres took place here and by May that year 38,000 American servicemen were billeted in Northern Ireland . Between 1943-44 the numbers reached 120,000 . Why ?
In December 1941 Pearl Harbour had been bombed and after two years of neutrality , America entered the war . The Normandy landings were being planned and massive numbers of troops were required for the assault on Hitler ’ s ‘ Fortress Europe ’. In June 1944 , the surge on the beaches of Normandy took place . It was the beginning of the end , and the surrender of Germany took place within the year .
We rode on , war and discord becoming a theme of this trip . I recognised place names on road signs , recalled from years gone by . Never a news bulletin passed without reports of bombings and shootings in places such as Portadown , Armagh and Londonderry but before long we were in Southern Ireland again , riding through soft and peaceful Donegal landscapes where it was easy to forget the troubles of the past . At our overnight stop in Buncrana I met my fellow riders . They didn ’ t all know each other so it was introductions all round and an agreement to meet before dinner in the bar . I had a look at some of the bikes .
The oldest one was the 1952 Matchless G9 600 twin cylinder owned by my friends . Like all the other bikes on this run , it was immaculate , its riders dressed in matching clothing and helmets . The youngest was my 500cc Enfield Bullet but its travel-worn appearance made it look older than the rest . Parts have been replaced by inauthentic ones all over the world as they wore or broke . All the other bikes here were clean and finished off with the correct nuts and bolts . The owners were as proud of their bikes as I am of mine , but one had a problem with a headlight .
“ Just wear a high-vis jacket ,” joked someone .
Between our almost fifty-year age difference were three Triumphs , a couple of BMWs , a Yamaha , three Hondas , a Kawasaki , and a Moto Guzzi .
Over dinner and a Guinness , I asked the two women I was sitting with what life was like for them during ‘ The Troubles ’ between 1968- 1998 .
Living outside of the cities , they were not too affected . One had been a head teacher at a non-sectarian primary school . Two children lived in the same street in a nearby troubled town , and she ’ d suggested
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