Thirty years ago, one of the most iconic and influential mod-themed scooters appeared in this magazine. We look back at how it came about and the person behind it. Stu Owen reports…
The modernist idea is about individualism, and to a certain extent, one-upmanship. Whether it is the clothes, music, or scooters, it’s about being unique to those around you. When it comes to the latter, it can be much more difficult to achieve because, taking the scooter as the base, it then needs dressing up. But what defines a mod scooter, one adorned with mirrors and lights? No, that is the perception of the general public, who, along with parka-clad owners, sums up their thinking. Let’s be honest about it: the ‘79 revival was the mirrors-and-lights-themed mod scooter. Not that there’s anything wrong with them, but the original ’60s machines looked nothing like that.
Dressed up, they may have been, but in a more refined way, proven by the fact that there are plenty of great examples still being built today and carefully executed to the finest detail. While they take their influence from the 1960s mod scooters, one built in the middle of then and now, equally, if not more, provides the same inspiration. That machine is a Lambretta Series Two, which was christened “Spirit of ‘63”. But why was it so influential, and why does it continue to be? The answer is a combination of many things, but central to the story is the person behind it, and it’s only when you delve into their history that you understand why.
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Entering the mod scene at the right time and in the right place, where it was “happening”, was paramount. The pace was so fast that, in a split second, you either went with it or got left behind; that’s how it worked. Finding himself at the centre of it all was Dez Askil, and his induction into the modernist culture gave him the credentials to create something special years later.
Looking back to move forward
As we get older, we spend most of our time looking back on the good times we had, wishing for a time machine to take us back to when life was allegedly much better. Dez Askill was doing that at the age of fifteen, and it was probably one of the reasons for getting swept up in the mod ethic. There were plenty of catalysts to make that happen, such as Quadrophenia, The Jam, etc., and he will openly admit he enrolled in all it offered, but the scooters themselves were the biggest lure. They not only had an immediate effect but also a long-lasting one, meaning that once the mod fashions became old hat, the scooters stayed. That can be said of many within the scene, but Dez ate, slept, and breathed them, and he still does.
The journey had to start somewhere, though, and it began at age fourteen with a French LD 125. This was in 1980, and, growing up in Birmingham, it was easy to become exposed to its rich two-wheeled heritage. Many of the big British manufacturers hailed from there, including BSA and Triumph, but there were also many Lambretta dealers attached to vast motorcycle shops that were the epicentre of the British market. Many of them still had ageing Lambretta stock, and for an eager 14-year-old armed with a pocket of cash, they were keen to offload a defunct old Lambretta on him. In truth, it was only a few pounds, 50 in total, but that didn’t matter; he could now list himself among the many scooter owners out there. Painted matt black, it wasn’t very inspiring, but in the summer of 1980, thanks to a tin of paint, it soon turned to a shade of blue. It was a short-lived affair: by the time Dez returned to school in September, it had been sold on, but not before the seeds of scooter ownership had been sown into his soul.
By this time, the revival was at its peak, perhaps starting to flag a little, but for someone at school, it still had a long way to go. There was a simple reason for that: he wasn’t of legal age to indulge in what it had to offer in the form of the scooters or the social side. That was the problem for many like him who had jumped on the mod bandwagon at an early age. Even if it went out of fashion with the older teenage population, young pretenders were not going to leave until they had experienced what it had to offer.
Happening
There were plenty of clubs catering for Mods in Birmingham during and after the revival, but one stood out: the Outrigger. As the other venues moved on, this became the spiritual home for mods in the country’s second city. Those who were part of it moved on from the revival and became intertwined in its roots, dedicating themselves to the music and fashion from the 1960s. It became hugely contested, and one-upmanship was all that mattered. Dez, who was now a seasoned pro, found himself at the centre of it, and there was no denying this was where it was happening, not just for Birmingham but for the country.
Though he had an interest in all it had to offer, and right on his doorstep, there was a noticeable shift towards the scooters. Many Birmingham mods followed the fashion; the scooters came second, but for him it was the other way around. Not that he didn’t gain respect for being a smart dresser, but the scooters began to take over. The problem with living and breathing the mod ethic is that it can be hard to maintain it consistently, especially when messing around with an old Lambretta. The mod lifestyle would never leave Dez, but the scooters became the priority.
By the mid-1980s, many of the local mods had either moved on or, for those who stayed, turned into Scooter Boys, so the scooter scene in the city was still vibrant. The problem Dez had was employment, not that he was workshy, far from it, but boring factory jobs were not his remit. He had a friend, Simon Farrell, who worked at a motorcycle shop just outside the city centre called Vale Onslow. Once a giant of the motorcycle industry, it became a relic of what it once was due to a lack of investment over the years. A huge business, set in a row of Victorian buildings that were beginning to crumble, but it was what was inside that mattered most. Amongst the swathes of British bikes and spares was an abundance of scooters. Left over from the shop’s glory years and now in the care of Simon, who invited Dez to help him sort out what they referred to as “The Scooter Stuff”. Now, in his element, it was a dream come true, but the truth was, as it was sold off, there would be nothing to replace it.
Classically trained
Realising they were running out of time and stock, the pair decided to set up business together and form Classically Italian, a dedicated scooter business. While there were plenty of customers, the reality soon set in that making a full-time living from it isn’t as easy as it sounds. Dez sometimes became frustrated with Simon, and, rather than fall out, the pair decided to part ways. Classically Italian may have lasted only a couple of years, but it gave Dez vital experience in running his own business.
He soon teamed up with Jason White, another familiar face and likeable character within the local scooter scene, but after a while, Dez realised that what he needed was to be on his own, with no business partner, just him making the decisions. So once again, he had to break away, and this time, he was on his own; as in 1996, he set up Gran Sport. The timing was perfect, just as the Britpop movement was peaking and the likes of Paul Weller were being crowned the “Mod Father.” This led to a huge upsurge in scooter ownership among new recruits to the latest fashion craze, meaning Dez was busy from the outset.
GranSport became a central hub for scooter devotees, not just in Birmingham but in the surrounding areas. Expansion was rapid, which can lead to problems as you invest everything you make into a business. It was up to him to regulate the purse strings, as he was solely in charge, which, at times, even he admits, got out of control. While Dez was building his business, he was also building his reputation as one of the country’s leading scooter restorers. Not by pushing the fact, but simply by the outstanding work he was producing, and one creation in particular would be his lasting legacy.
Spiritual recognition
Even before Gransport was set up, Dez had begun building Mod-themed scooters, most of which were for export to Japan, which was experiencing a revival of its own. Part of that was using bold colours mixed with huge amounts of chrome, which wasn’t how they were done in the past. It began to influence Dez, and he had ideas of building one for himself. The problem was that extravagant scooters for personal use didn’t happen, as any money made was ploughed back into the business. All that changed in 1996, as Gransport was on the up, and this time he took advantage of it.
In possession of a clean Lambretta TV175 Series Two, he made his move by employing the skills of Terry Hale, a renowned local painter. While the colours wouldn’t be a problem for Terry, laying them over chrome wasn’t straightforward. The idea was to use the original factory glacier blue colour, overlaid with pink, while the chrome side panels would be transformed with a darker metallic blue. It wasn’t a complicated scheme, but the contrasting colours and chrome would bring it to life.
Some parts were needed, and this was in the early days of remanufactured Lambretta spares. Not that Dez wanted to use any, instead visiting Nigel Cox in Weston to get what he required. Nigel’s vast array of original spares included many period accessories in the days before they became ultra-expensive. A few Vigano extras complemented the build, and before long, it was christened by Dez as “Spirit of 63”; something special was born. It was a surreal moment because something he had envisioned was now a reality, and it was stirring up a huge storm of interest. Customers would flock to the shop and stare in amazement. It was strange in a way because it wasn’t like it was the first-ever mod scooter; there had been thousands before it, but none that were like it.
In his words, “I was just an early bird when it came to modding up the Series Two Lambretta. Up to that point, no one was doing anything like it. So now, thirty years later, it is seen as the beginning of an era, and those who know treat it respectfully as the grandfather of the idea.” He takes a very humble approach to it, not trying to hang on to its legacy, having sold it a couple of years after he built it. He will be remembered for creating it, and that is enough reward. There have been many pioneers within the different aspects that make up the scooter scene, and Spirit of 63 has its rightful place within it.
Clocking up the miles
As a scooter dealer, you spend much of your time at the beck and call of your customers. And, as the business grows, you find that there isn’t enough time to deal with everyone and everything. It can take its toll on you, and as the pressure builds, it can become too much. That was the problem with Gran Sport; it became this huge monster that Dez struggled to tame. It became too much, leaving him no other choice but to get away from everything completely.
That was easier said than done, though, because first, a buyer was needed for the business, and, even though he found one, it still took a long time to get the sale over the line. What next, though? In 2009, Gran Sport was sold, and Dez ended up 11,500 miles away in New Zealand. The idea was to settle there, but it’s easy to become homesick, and keeping his house in the UK, it was too easy to be lured back.
What it did do, though, was give him time to reflect and take stock of his life. A while had passed, and, like anyone involved with scooters, you try to leave, but the magnetic pull doesn’t let you. Looking back, he realised that mistakes had been made, and that it’s okay to be busy, but turnover is vanity and means fuck all if you’re not making a profit. In 2011, Disco Dez Scooters was founded, and, as the name suggests, it was a one-man show. Of course, there was help from some very talented people, but he was now in control of his own destiny, and, to prove it, 15 years later, the business is still going strong.
Pleasant enough
While the new business provided stability for Dez, he still needed more from working with scooters on a daily basis. He had been spending more time working on LDs and other shaft-drive Lambrettas and had found a niche market. Not many dealers catered for the complexity of building these engines or the other issues surrounding them. Dez didn’t mind, though, because he could envisage the days of pre-mod England in the 1950s, driving around at the gentle pace these standard machines offered. For this reason, he set up the Awfully Pleasant Scooter Association. No membership with a subscription or anything like that, just small local rallies aimed at bringing people who liked these types of machines together.
There was only one rule: a cut-off date for scooters that attended the rallies, originally set at pre-1966. It might annoy a few, but Dez didn’t want to cater to the masses, just those who had a similar vision to his. The idea worked, and those attending grew, whether it was a local ride-out or a weekend away further afield. It’s been in existence for a good few years, and the cut-off date has been extended to 1971, allowing those with later GP models to attend. That’s how it has stayed ever since, and the unique style of its governance has proven effective and has been accepted within the wide range of options the scooter scene offers.
Uppers and downers
Over the years, I have interviewed many scootering personalities, and this one was always going to be more difficult. The reason is that I have known Dez since those heady days of the Outrigger, so this was more of a personal tale about someone I like to think that I can call my friend. His story is one of those remarkable achievements because, during his time involved with scooters, he experienced many ups and downs, and whatever challenges he faced, he managed to come out the other side.
If Dez is classed as a survivor of the scene, then so is everyone else, but he isn’t; in some ways, he is a pioneer. Perhaps typecast for building Spirit of 63, but look at how many scooter builds have come off the back of it. He is still here all those years later, able to make a living from the iconic Italian machines he loves. I know there will be a wry smile when he reads that. Then there is the Association that he set up, just as unique as Spirit, and proven to be a winning formula. Like all of us, he knows the scene is an ageing population, but rather than worrying about it, he accepts it for what it is now, and grasps it while he still can. There aren’t many people who have been involved with scooters this long who have made such a lasting contribution as Dez has. One of the scenes true gents, so thanks, Dez, for all you have done and given to everyone over the years.
Words: Stuart Owen
Images: Ann Fayers, Loretta Brennan, JC, and Tim Scott
