Temple's silver lining in 1970 is now clouded by history . . .

Few realise he is a legend, a man whose Commonwealth Games feat for his country has been surpassed only by Sir Chris Hoy. Indeed, Temple is the father of Scottish track cycling: an unsung hero with an untold story. He is a man who was once dismissed by Britain's national coach, whose protege Temple would thrash to become the only Scottish medallist in the velodrome built at Meadowbank for the 1970 Games.

He claimed silver in the 10-mile time trial on a customised Flying Scotsman which cost nearly two months' wages. Eddie Alexander won bronze in 1986, but not until Hoy's Commonwealth gold in 2002 was Temple surpassed by a Scot.

Unlike Hoy's lottery-funded era, though, there was no support. Temple's wife sold her own bike to help, and Temple was still paying up his Flying Scotsman months after the Games. By then, the Glasgow builder of the machine had a huge poster of the rider in his showroom. As an amateur, there was no percentage for him.

Every race prize - electric blanket, Goblin Teasmade, bike equipment, or whatever - was sold, and the proceeds sent to David Rattray's shop in Glasgow's Townhead. "I never got cash in hand but, when I won a prize, I'd ask the promoter to send the value to the shop, to help pay off the bike," said Temple. "Some were happy to do that, but most had already bought the prizes."

The bike cost £130 when he ordered it in November, 1969. He had won the Scottish 25-mile time trial title three years in a row, as well as the 50, and was initially short-listed for the road race only to lose his place after he snapped a crank while leading near the end of the second stage of the Girvan three-day.

"I was offered a place in the track team but did not have a track bike," he said. "I got Rattray's to build one to my specification. Unfortunately, I had to pay for it myself. There were no concessions, though they gave me a good deal."

Meanwhile, Temple converted an old road-bike frame for the track and on it he represented Scotland at a Home International in Cardiff, finishing a close second to the fully-equipped multiple British champion and future Olympic medallist, Ian Hallam.

Temple wrote to Hallam's mentor, Norman Sheil. "His reply disgusted me," said Temple. "He basically told me I was deluded if I thought that having a proper track bike would make me British champion. I was trying to improve and was asking Britain's national coach for advice, and he was not giving any. He referred me to a Scot who was not even a track coach and who, frankly, could not even sit on his bike properly."

So it was with considerable satisfaction that Temple left Hallam trailing in his magnificent ride to snatch silver in 1970, on the new bike. The 64-lap race was 15 laps old when the English favourite, Willie Moore, crashed. He had beaten the Games record in the heats but, in the resultant mayhem, Temple, who had been near the front, seized his chance in a breakaway.

"The three ultimate medallists were out in front and we stayed away, taking our turn to lead," he said. "The last two laps, I was dead. I knew I could not raise a sprint, so I hit the front and went as hard as I could, but Jocellyn Lovell came round me. One of the others in the Scottish team, Glasgow Wheeler Sandy Gordon, responded to every challenge, interfering with attempts to catch us, but I only found that out afterwards."

Canadian Lovell was timed at 20min 46.72sec, Temple second in 20:47.46, with Vernon Stauble of Trinidad claiming bronze in 20:47.72. Gordon finished eighth, with Hallam, the pursuit gold medallist, ninth. The medallists were more than 20 seconds inside the Games record which Moore had established in the heats.

On the same day, the boxers Tom Imrie and John Gillan won gold and silver: a headline story of the penultimate day of the Games. Temple's moment of cycling history merited just five paragraphs in The Glasgow Herald.

"After the Games, track cycling was a rudderless ship: no structure, nobody getting training gear or taken to training," said Temple. "I was never offered an national team place afterwards. There was no recognition. I did go to the Peace Race in Czechoslovakia, as an apprentice mechanic with the Scottish team: getting bottles ready, setting up bikes, helping with a wheel change. So I saw that side of racing."

It had all started when Temple's parents got a new house in Drylaw. "I was bouncing around, a gangly youth - nothing seemed to fit - and making a nuisance of myself on what was still a building site. One of our neighbours walked from his house one night with a bike over his shoulder. So I got my dad's bike and joined him. I'd just turned 16. Otherwise I'd probably have been a tearaway.

"He took me to the Clarion club in Leith's Kirkgate, above Burton's the tailor. I'm sure my jaw dropped, all those lovely bikes and folk enjoying themselves. One guy had a yellow Sun Wasp for sale. My parents gave me the £10 he wanted, but I only went round youth hostels with the club. That's where I got the bug, touring with them.

"Every time we got near the designated hostel there was a bit of a gallop to get there. I discovered I enjoyed going harder and faster, realised I'd a talent for it, joined the racing section, and I got a woolly jersey, woolly shorts and an old pair of glossy shoes."

At 17, he was junior East of Scotland champion at 10 and 25 miles. And at the Clarion, he met Margaret, who was to sell her own Flying Scotsman to fuel his ambitions.

This iconic marque still has a tribute website, though the company closed more than 30 years ago. Yet the most famous and historic model still hangs from the rafters of Temple's garage in Goldenacre. "It's with my other bikes, a little bit dusty and a little bit cob-webbed," Temple said of an item of pride, though he knows he will never ride it in combat again.

The Lotus 108, on which Chris Boardman won Olympic track gold in 1992, was developed with motorsport technology at a cost of some £500,000, yet it was only minimally lighter at 9kg. However, it was aerodynamically superior to Temple's machine which he had already mothballed almost a decade earlier. Hoy's track frame in London 2012 - Boardman was development consultant - was around 1.4kg but, to conform with minimum weight rules, the on-the-track model weighed 6.8kg.

Temple was more aware of the impact of training than of drugs in his day. "One cyclist who came to prominence after leaving Scotland for England - I'm not going to name him - would come back and ride Scottish races. In one race we dropped him, much to our surprise.

"He came in foaming at the mouth like a mad dog. The general opinion was that he'd taken something. There was certainly something going on, but what struck me most was that competitors at a higher level signed on the dole and trained full-time, raising their level."

Lovell - who won gold, silver and bronze in Edinburgh - was famously photographed at the closing ceremony riding a child's tricycle, to the great amusement of the Queen. He won three golds in 1978 in Edmonton but, five years later, was struck by a dump truck while on a training run and left quadriplegic. He remains a fiery campaigner for spinal injury research.

Temple has also diced with mortality. "I had a bad accident in 1972 which gave me time to reflect on my family life. I could have been killed. I was doing a two-up time trial when a car made a right turn across us. I hit the passenger side, went on to the bonnet, over the roof and landed on the road. I gashed my knee and forearm and spent six days in hospital. I'd been cycling since I was 16 and was nearly 30, so I decided to take a break.

"I went back years later, as a vet, with some success, but I was still working and guys I'd been beating in the old days were going up the road and leaving me. I thought I had to rediscover the ability to ride hard until I recognised they were retired and were in training, while I was still in the book-binding industry, where I worked all my days."

The bike remains a lifestyle habit, but 2013 was: "a dreadful year. I freewheeled to a standstill and fell off my bike, unconscious. I landed up in hospital. The only good thing was where it happened: the cycle lane below the Crammond Bridge Hotel, over the River Almond.

"Nothing else was involved. Just me and my bike. I blacked out. If I'd been on the road or in my car, anything could have happened. Apparently there was some hiccup, an irregularity in my heartbeat, so the upshot is I now have a pacemaker, to ensure it doesn't happen again. I stick to cycle tracks as much as I can. It's dangerous with the sheer volume of traffic and the speed they go at."

His first medal for Scottish cycling was a surprise. "Nobody expected it. Not even me, if I'm honest, but I gave it my all. I got the chance because of what happened behind us, and we worked hard to maintain it. The medal [now in a bedroom drawer] has more meaning because I felt I was working against adversity and getting no help from people supposed to be helping me.

"Yes, I am envious of opportunities now, but I was extremely fortunate to have the career I had. My only regret is that I never realised my full potential, because I never got the opportunity. The only time Scotland came calling was the Games and before that, with the exception of that race in Cardiff, I was never offered anything other than local competition. I felt neglected, in hindsight."

Yet he was a prolific road racer, with outstanding times for his era: a best of 21min 02sec for 10 miles, 57.12 for 25, and a Scottish record of 1:57.12 for 50.

"I met Chris Hoy once, at a Meadowbank Tuesday Track League," he recalled. "It was before he was a real superstar. I introduced myself: 'You won't know me. I'm Brian Temple . . . ' He replied immediately: 'The silver medallist.'"

Yet Temple seems forgotten by the sport itself. He was not on the guest list when Hoy received the freedom of Edinburgh, or at the opening of the Glasgow velodrome.

However, when contacted this week, Scottish Cycling were immediately fascinated. The governing body is now in discussion with Temple about a place to display his unique machine, one appropriate to honouring a unique moment in Scottish sporting history.