It’s no big secret that American-V was to officially launch exactly one month earlier on January 30th, but that day coincided with the heaviest snowfall the South of England had seen for years. After a very nippy, but otherwise dry ride down to Crewe I slung my Road King into Andy’s garage.

After a much needed brew, four of us; Andy, his good lady Marie, Derek the lens and I, crammed into the black gallic torpedo with the Am-V “stand”, destination Far East Essex and the printers, and the first look anyone would have of the new magazine. However, it wasn’t too long before the first flakes began to drift over the M1, soon to become a blizzard and a virtual standstill in both directions. Falling behind our deadline and with map book on knees we slid off across country the first chance we could get. Skating along obscure B-roads was the only way we could make any real progress at all, every other road was blocked - usually by utterly capable modern 4x4s and totally incapable drivers - but even so we finally arrived at the printers at 11.30pm. The launch was effectively blown, but at least we’d got our magazines.

Motorcycles and cars had been abandoned everywhere, lorries were jack-knifed behind the cars and even the gritters were stuck. The most bizarre image of that altogether surreal night though had to be around 1.00am Friday morning. We were broadsliding through the back streets of Chelmsford at the time and as we carefully crested the brow of a hill we were amazed to see a geezer riding a classic Triumph 500 twin up the other side through virgin piste. The rider didn’t look cold, he didn’t look shit-scared, he didn’t even appear to look very pissed off. Even now I still don’t whether to give the guy my respect or the phone number of a good psychologist.

We’d initially arranged to arrive at the Ace Cafe’s January Harley night sometime around 7.30pm and we’d phoned ahead to let them know there would be ‘some’ delay. Phlegmatically the guys at the Ace told us to take our time, London was in the grip of the snow too, there wasn’t anyone else there and to be honest, it didn’t look like there would be later on either. We finally got to the Ace Cafe at around 4.00am and sensibly decided to go to the ‘Hotel Barmpot’ instead - breakfast strictly between 6.30 and 8.00.

It could all have been a complete disaster, but later in the morning we swung around to the Alexandra Palace, where the Road & Race motorcycle show was just kicking into its second long weekend and The Magazine Man stand. Brian, bless him, loved the magazine and so took hundreds of copies there and then. Right result!

One month on exactly:
February 27th 2003, Harley Night, Ace Cafe, London. American-V launch.

I’d never been to the Ace Cafe before, nestled just off the North Circular, North West London, and it was a much bigger venue than I had expected. A two-storey 1930s style sprawling roadhouse, we swung into their vehicle park to be met by a healthy number - in view of the season - of motorcycles glittering in the glare from the great picture windows that made up the front wall of the ground floor. Being the Ace’s Harley Night, the majority of the motorcycles were American, though there were other marques present too. An aged Honda CX500 parked amongst the gleaming chrome bizarrely reminded me of Daytona beach, where it had been a joy to spot one cruising contentedly down Main Street, a matt black, pug-ugly tug navigating that tropical sea-port full of billet barges.

Next to a brash bright yellow Victory SportCruiser sat a quite wonderful, indeterminately hued, Harley Flathead which was obviously well used and well loved - at least by the rider - although I’m not sure the pillion would have felt so affectionate towards the machine, judging by the look of the fanny pad. If I had to choose a dominant colour for the Flathead that night I think I would have plumped for ‘oil’. Nearby I spotted a deceptively simple metallic blue Harley big twin chop, a longer look revealed a 21st Century velocity stack, top of the range forks and state-of-the-art brakes, so I wasn’t too surprised to find out later - after he’d told me - that it belonged to Rob of Harrison.

Inside, the motley American-V crew were immediately made welcome by Ace Cafe’s owners Mark and Linda, who quickly told us where to score some tables and very soon we had set up near the be-quiffed DJ and were in business!

The Ace Cafe is really nicely set up: a long, pleasantly lit bar serves a variety of beverages, both alcoholic and otherwise and it is also from there, perusing large wall-mounted menus that you can choose all manner of proper food at extremely reasonable prices, especially given the Cafe’s geographical location. The fresh cooked food is collected at one end and the portions impressed me too. I tried as hard as I could not to stare too longingly at gargantuan dinners that hefty bikers were wolfing down, after all, drooling isn’t all that cool. But I couldn’t ignore some lucky bugger’s sausage and mash being demolished in my line of sight - four full-sized gravy covered sausages, sat on the crest of a mountain of mashed spud surrounded by a green sea of peas.

Along the full-length windows were ranged tables, mainly occupied by Harley riders this night, then an array of amusement machines. Our temporary (but very nice) Am-V stand was next, then more tables, the DJ on a stage behind a bit of a dance floor, back round past more tables to the obligatory Juke box and Ace Cafe’s own souvenir/branded product shop. Back near the entrance, a flight of stairs led to the loos and rooms for private parties and club meetings. Clean and bright everywhere, all the walls of the cafe were decorated with huge montages of black and white period biker photos and hysterical period newspaper headlines.

Back at the Am-V stand we were doing steady business, a few people had already known we were coming and had come to see us. Cal had dragged the Victory Owners Club and a fair percentage of the UK’s registered Victorys to see us, Mr Mutch was touting for an outlet for his work, and Harrison Rob to name but a few, but most people viewed us with a degree of healthy suspicion at first, and quite rightly. A couple of familiar faces in the crowd who knew me or Andy from other magazines, and the realisation that we weren’t a group of (complete) tossers and sheer curiosity drew more and more people forward to chat, flip through the magazine and even buy it. Good grief! Of course all of us on the Am-V crew had been a little nervous to start with and we had felt a little odd and out of sorts, planted there in the middle of the cafe, but our virginal jitters quickly dissipated as magazines got sold, tales got told and new friends got made.

Many, many thanks to the guys at the Ace Cafe for looking after us and as many thanks to all the riders who braved the February night and made us feel so welcome. We ended up having a great time down the cafe that night and I’m absolutely sure it will not be the last time American-V will want to call in on the Ace Cafe. In fact, if plans come to fruition, we’ll be down every month, and previewing the brand new magazine every other meeting.

After all, there’s a humungous sausage and mash with my name on it ... written on a western facing escarpment of squidged King Edwards.