The Triumph factory at Meriden was great; they picked up the bike, replaced all the damaged parts, and fit it with new Dunlop tyres. Then, I was back on the road, shoulder back in action but still no voice.
Pat, another nurse, and Allen, a builder, accompanied Julie and me to Coventry. Allen had me on light duties. My health and energy were bouncing back, and Julie was getting a taste of motorcycling.
Julie transferred from Coventry Hospital to the local Peel Hospital close by to Selkirk. We stayed on a cousin’s farm, with my aunt and uncle. Meanwhile, my voice croaked back to life.
One of the town’s annual festivities was the “Common Riding,” a very historic event of riding the town boundaries. All the town trades were respresented by a large flag, including one for the “Colonials.” My name was put forward and I was selected as a standard bearer, which meant I must learn to cast the flag on stage in the marketplace, to the music of the town band and hundreds of supporters looking on. This was a great honor.
On the farm were two large poultry houses in run-down condition to be resurrected back into production. By the end of my work, 11,000 chickens were installed, laying 10,500 eggs a day. It was then June of 1972.
Julie and I made some decisions, packed the bike and toured Britain, and then headed back to New Zealand, family production in place. The bike was shipped out and we traveled “Jet-Ship.” We flew to Singapore and took a passenger ship to Australia, then New Zealand.
After returning to New Zealand, I got my old job back with New Zealand Lion Breweries, this time in Christchurch. Julie and I needed a small car, so we bought a 1935 Morris 8 Sports—cheap, interesting, and a bit of fun. I fixed it up and, from Wellington, where my father lived, we drove to Christchurch.
My first of three sons was born there, and after one year, a new job was aquired in Auckland with an architectural firm, and later with the Ministry of Works on the new International Airport Terminal. Then another two sons arrived.
In the late 70s, Triumphs were frequently being stolen for parts, so I stripped my old Triumph down, repainted it, and tidied up the machine to look like new. I traded it for a 600cc 1972 5-Series BMW.
But then, a major disruption in life occurred: the next door neighbor decided to abandon his family, and take off with mine.
So, having finished at the Airport Terminal and having to work in town in an office with a chain-smoker, I quit my job. I then did a bit of contract design work and a bit of building work. The design work took me to a pulp mill near Ohakune in the center of the North Island, with the condition that I have all the school holidays off so my boys could be with me, going skiing in the winter at the local Turoa Ski Field and traveling in the summer. Also, I could take time out to visit my relatives in Scotland.