Coventry Bicycle Shops

I got my first and only ever bike from Pollards on the Binley Road, a racer. I used it to get to and from work in Coleshill. I used to cycle from Eastern Green down the A45 to the Stonebridge roundabout, across three lanes of traffic then up to Coleshill School where I taught mathematics - it was a grammar school when I started there. After about 10 years I lost my nerve with the near misses, mostly from women using their rear view mirror to complete their facial make up for the day. I reverted to cycling through the country. Ironically, the only time I came off my bike was on a bend on a little country lane where Tom White had his scrap yard (Eaves Green?). I skidded on gravel going round a bend and ended up jammed under a milk float. which was travelling in the opposite direction. I felt very sorry for the poor driver who was ashen white when he came round the float to try to get me from under his vehicle. Because it was such a bad blind bend we were both going very slowly so the only damage done was to my pride!

That was the main bike shop when we were kids. An unpretentious shop where you could get anything for bikes. When I was 9, I had a couple of (glass in those days) pop bottles in a shopping bag slung over my handlebars. Stupid, as when I tried to turn into our drive, they jammed between my front wheel and the forks, pitching me off the bike. The fork was slightly bent, but my front wheel was rather mangled and out of true, with several wrecked spokes. (I and the pop bottles survived.) I took my wheel to Mr Talbot, who said "leave it here". A day or two later, I went to collect it and it was as good as new. He only charged me 2/-. About 4 years later, I went into the shop get a few steel balls, the sort you find in a ball race. Mr Talbot asked what size, and when I said about 5/16", he looked a bit puzzled and asked what make of bike they were for, as it was very unusual for steel balls to be that big. I told him it was for a very old bike. He said "it must be". He went over and got some tins, which he opened. One of them had the biggest balls he stocked, but they were only 1/4" in diameter, so I bought some of those They had surface rust, and had obviously been there for many years. I dare not tell him the true purpose of the balls. Nothing to do with cycles. No, my friend had turned up a model steel cannon in metalwork class at his school, and they were to be the cannonballs for it! We used banger powder at first, then later our homemade gunpowder. The balls should have been a bit bigger, but they worked. Eventually, we ran of of balls, so I took one of the last ones as a sample and went back to purchase some more. When I showed Mr Talbot the sample ball, spotting the surface rust, he said "that looks old", to which I replied "well, they came out of an old tin". He said nothing but gave me a very funny look.

And there's more. About Talbot's bike shop in Earlsdon Street, to wit. Some years later, having miraculously survived home-made explosives as a kid (maybe there was someone up there watching over us!), I was working at Massey Ferguson's R&D place in Maudslay Road (not the big tractor production factory in Banner Lane, you'll understand). At lunchtime, one or two chaps used to like to meet up for a game of darts at lunchtime, and I got sucked in. I'd never played darts before in my life, and did not have my own darts. All the other chaps had expensive-looking precision darts, you know, the sort you see on telly used by the likes of Gerwen and Littler, the ones with detachable fins. So off I toddled to Talbot's shop. They had darts in the window. Not precision devices. No, the set I bought had chunky brass bodies, and the fins (I think the proper name is flights) were made of a single piece of solid blue plastic which screwed into the brass body. The darts had the appearance of a WW2 bomb. The set cost me 75p, so each dart cost me 25p. They worked, and I usually averaged 26 (a 1, a 20 and a 5). One of the regular players worked in the design office, and he made a comment about my darts. He announced to one and all that my darts looked like "turds with flights"!

I remember Harry's shop well, used to work just round the corner from there. Bought a great '56 Rover from him, well it went well for a while then it developed big end knock and that was basically the end of that comfy motor. The radio was an HMV valve radio that took an eternity to warm up. First motor I ever had with a radio in the dash and leather seats, lol. Col Cottrell (Bees) used to do bits of work for him and Pete Lloyd (grass track sidecars) used to flog cars for Harry.

The name of the Cycle Shop just past Broad Street was Lols. I used to walk past it for years on my way to School in the 1940's and 1950's, they sold all makes of Bicycles and spare parts, it was a Cyclist's gold mine.

Mods please move this if it is not right for this thread. Where to start with this Sandy44? Pictures of the Motor Mart and mention of Harry Tennant is a good enough place. Let me explain; the name of Harry takes me back to my childhood and Bolingbroke Road, the place of my birth. My father was a tool setter at the 'Umba and was a friend of HT and when Harry decided to embark on a motorcycle business he hired my dad, part time, to mechanic for him. This was in a corner plot at the wide ally way (jetty) between Hollis Road and Bolingbroke, guessing at about 1955. If I remember correctly, there was a couple of tin corrugated roof garages behind the first house at the Hollis end. This was the point at which I met Harry and of course Peter (Lloyd). From Hollis road the move was to the top of Bishop Street on the land which became the Post Office Sorting Centre. On the site were two rows of rental (again) tin roof garages and an office cum showroom at the entrance and a workshop at the corner. I remember so well going to open up with my dad on winter Saturday mornings with icicles stuck firmly to our Talbot 80 powered 1936 Hillman Minx. The first job upon arrival was to fire up the cast iron Portway Tortoise stove in the workshop. All was well when the sides of said stove glowed red! Never mind steam engine breakfasts from the fireman's shovel, we cooked bacon and eggs in an old blackened pan on the top of the stove. Mention of Colin Cottrell (from West Haddon?) is apposite, with him being the one to teach me how to ride a motorcycle, an AJS 250 if I remember correctly. I was allowed to play on the bikes from then on. I recall on day, which I can now pin down to 1958, when one Saturday, a Minx convertible drove into the yard and three glamorous ladies alighted. Said ladies were parking up and then walking to the Hippodrome for their show. The Beverley Sisters made and impression on a 10 year old! Now we come to Jesson Street and the photograph on this thread. The building of the ring road and the need for more spacious premises drove this move. No more firing up the stove. Apropos car sales; this was never the main business, more of a side-line. Bikes were the core of the business. This is where my association waned due to my apprenticeship and the 'Umba and my dad only occasionally venturing to Jesson Street. Having said that, dad would occasionally borrow a 'sales' bike and we would go up to the Bees on Saturday for the speedway, no helmets, short trousers and shirt sleeves. Oh we were bad, but we didn't die! The final place for Harry Tennant motorcycles was of course the Motor Mart on the London Road, or more accurately Charter House View. On a more personal note, Harry Tennant, was always my 'uncle Harry' and a true gentleman the like of which we rarely see in these graceless days. He and Auntie Connie were a fundamental part of my childhood and some fifty years on, are still very much missed. I treasure even now a book The Open Air is My Hobby given to me for my birthday in 1960. How could I forget uncle Peter (Lloyd), an impishly playful and capable man, much affiliated with Rugby football as well as motorcycle racing. The happy hours spent up at the Bees watching him race in the Banked Chairs with a 650 BSA Rocket powered outfit. I rode a Rocket at that time and benefitted from his, erm contacts, thus making my bike quicker than most Bonneville's. Such wonderful memories from one photograph. Thank you.