A Tribute to Victor Toogood

“V” is for Victor - Victor Toogood that is.

Victor Toogood is his name and as you might expect, he is British --- very British. He is tall, with a ‘ramrod’ military bearing, complete, as I recall, with a neatly trimmed mustache, and, of course, that very proper British demeanor and unmistakable accent. I came to meet him many years ago in 1953 or 4 through my good friend, George Snow. He was, to paraphrase the title of a favorite Reader’s Digest article, one of the most unforgettable characters I’ve ever met.

He was an accountant by trade but, I suspect, a frustrated motorcycle racer and mechanic by nature. I once heard he was a veteran of WW II and the ‘Battle of Britain’ where he flew Hawker Hurricanes against the German F-109s and other planes. He never spoke of those times and I’ve always regretted not asking him if he wished to speak of them. Perhaps I will yet. But I digress.

George and I would spend hours over at Victor’s motorcycle ‘shop’. It wasn’t a shop in the conventional sense, but rather a place where he tinkered with his various assortment of ‘machines’, as he called them. He had a seemingly endless assortment of cars and bikes --- all British. He still has an assortment of British motorcycles including the ever popular Norton, and the absolute king of British motorcycles, the Vincent Black Shadow. He was extremely patient with us and was an eager tutor, showing us all about the ‘proper care and feeding’ of motorcycles. He was extremely meticulous and methodical about every thing he did. We learned how to do things the right way.

However, he was not without his idiosyncrasies. As meticulous as he was with the maintenance of his ‘machines’, he seemed equally dispassionate about the appearance of those same ‘machines’. I would guess that not so much as a cup of water, outside of a possible rain shower, ever graced the surfaces of any of his mechanical possessions. I can remember groaning with disbelief as I gazed upon that shrine of motorcycles, his beloved Vincent, sitting there months after one of his yearly vacation trips around the U.S., caked with mud and dirt. It would stay like that till the next year and his next trip. The only dirt that ever got scraped off was when he hovered over the bike, like it was a newborn baby, to work on some part that needed mechanical attention prior to his next great adventure.

Victor had a much greater influence on me at the time than either he or I understood. He introduced me to a world of fine British motorcycles and sports cars, mainly the MG- TC (I later owned a 1949 TC, the last year of that series) and the 356 Porsche, both of which he owned among others. We have corresponded over the years at Christmas at which time he always sends, in addition to a personal note, a poem, penned in the most beautiful cursive hand I’ve ever seen. I cherish his friendship to this day.

He is long since retired which has afforded him the time to contemplate the restoration of his many contraptions. However, I imagine that he is still ‘waiting for parts’ for most of them. I secretly suspect that, like the fellow who builds a boat in his basement, he never really wants to complete any of his works for then he wouldn’t have anything to do. I know one thing, I would love to just one more time walk through the doors of his ‘shop’ to see, smell, and take in all the sights of those wonderful ‘machines’ from a time when ‘British made’ reigned supreme in the world of motorcycles and sports cars.

Here’s to you, Victor. John Cary Yuill; 2004

More about Victor