M. G. Hawkins was my father. Mike, as he was known to all who met him, developed a passion for motorcycles that lasted more than forty years. My childhood memories center on the motorcycles he collected. They were everywhere—lined up in garages, tucked into an old telephone exchange, and even hidden under tarps in the garden. You couldn’t help but notice that Dad loved motorcycles.
At the house where I grew up—perched at the top of the hill on the Common—we had a workshop. By the time I was ten, Dad had already taught me how to use most of the machines, and a few years later he showed me how to weld. Working with my father gave me skills that shaped the rest of my life.
Dad worked at the Avon Rubber Company in Melksham, where he had been employed since 1958. Avon Tyres had an excellent reputation, and it was expected that his sons would follow him into the factory once they finished school. He was a welder by trade—highly skilled, especially on big plant machinery—and proud of his craft.
Beyond motorcycles, Dad had another passion: traction engines and trains. When I say “models,” I should explain—his models were not small. He preferred large-scale projects, and his biggest traction engine weighed nearly half a ton and stretched almost eight feet in length.
I didn’t follow him into Avon. Instead, I joined the Ministry of Defense as an apprentice. Thanks to the foundation Dad had given me, I breezed through the mechanical work—it all felt so familiar.
Years later, after I had married and left home, Mum and Dad designed and built a custom home on Bradley Lane in our village. It was an unusual house, carefully planned to suit their lives, and you can read more about it by following the link to Mike’s House.