Time to reminisce.......part 2 - Where did it start?

So where did it all start? I pledged in my first ever post to this blog to potentially reveal a little of me. Letting you in when I saw fit. Now feels about right to tell you a little more. Why? Well as you know life for me is changing, radically. I know that it won’t be the same again, it will be different, much different and for the better. I must say though that I feel ready to embrace it and whereas once I day dreamed and wondered of my next outing on the bonnie I now think about how I can snatch just a little more time with baby Libby and Rachel.

It therefore feels right to reminisce a little as I stare at my “dust covered” bonnie parked away in the garage. The story of how it all started for us and where the bonnie became my expectant weekends.

Bikes figured in my growing up. Not on a grand scale but with a dad who always had a bike. For him it was a necessity, a cheap mode of transport to help bridge the financial gap with a young family. My dad had grown up with bikes and there is the odd black and white picture of him with his brothers astride their BSA’s (amongst other nostalgic brands). My memories though are not as romantic. They consist mainly of a constant crackle of a kick start on cold early mornings. The little commuter 125cc then being allowed to ‘warm up’ just a few yards from my bedroom window. The noise and routine signaled that it wasn’t long before I too had to get up for school.

I can’t say I was fascinated by my Dad’s bike. Sure he took me on a couple of small spins, usually when he took it to the garage for its MOT, but that was it really. To me football, cricket, schoolwork and chasing the fairer sex all took precedent in my early teenage years. As I approached 16 a couple of friends purchased old 50cc Hondas and that is where my interest was really first stimulated. I was a tad jealous. They had something exciting and a new found freedom that I wanted to experience also. Inevitably as my own 16th birthday approached I began to ask the questions - could I have a bike also?

Such questions were always met with a firm ‘no’. I was left in no doubt that a bike of my own was not going to happen. In fairness I didn’t sulk for long over it but the whole episode left a question in my mind as to was my Dad just being hypocritical? Soon it was forgotten as college, exams and university all followed in a flurry of years.

Since those early yearnings little of the bike world touched me. Occasionally at a Rockabilly concert I’d catch a glimpse of a classic bike or maybe a Harley. Sure, I wished I owned one but the pull of beautiful space age 1950’s cars appealed more and would take more space in my day dreams. I knew though that I had neither the mechanical skill or patience to keep such beautiful machinery on the road. In the case of the bikes – I didn’t even have the requisite license.

Suddenly I was there, post 30, with few financial concerns and little responsibility outside of work. Life was good for Rachel and I. We were able to do what we wanted, when we wanted with only an occasional glance at our bank accounts. It wasn’t luck – we had both worked hard and made the most of the opportunities that came our way. As such I played around at several hobbies to keep my interest. Learn the guitar – I enjoyed my lessons but I have to admit my talent was limited. Gardening – fabulous in the fresh air but I lost interest once my garden had reached ‘show garden’ style perfection. Wine – joined a wine club, drank loads, but you can’t live your life being ‘interested’ in wine it is just a matter of subjective taste afterall. Rockabilly – still love this music, and its culture and fashion still influence me but that is where I want to stay ‘an influence’ not a complete lifestyle. There have been other more fleeting hobbies also.

So there I was several years ago, sitting in a gents barbers shop in Hinckley contemplating my next hobby. It was new year and I’d been musing for a while of the need to do something stimulating. My work life had slowed a little and I was looking for something to put my energies into. There is only so much gardening and wine you can take.

I was actually contemplating wind surfing at one point. Not that I had undertaken any serious research into it but it had been something that kept coming to the forefront of my mind. I have little idea how I could ever have made this a practical proposition given that I live in the midlands and so far away from the coast to make it an unglamorous notion on man made lakes and reservoirs. I also went through a period of wonderment about buying a classic sports car. This did reach the research stage as I trawled through auto-trader for a potential weekend toy. Three things conspired against me – lack of a decent garage, no mechanical nous and an uncanny ability to be drawn to expensive offerings. Classic air cooled Porsche anyone? Nope the classic sports car had to go the same way as the wind surfing.

A leaflet caught my eye, scattered as it was between the tatty magazines and newspapers within the Barbers. ‘Hinckley Motorcycle School – CBT, DAS and Advanced Tuition’. I picked it up and turned it over to read. Suddenly I was 16 again. I had not thought about a riding a bike since my Dad firmly said “no” all those years ago. The desire was returning. As I left the shop, a little lighter of fair locks, I picked up the leaflet, stuffed it in my pocket and took it home.

The next reminisce will encompass the ‘L’ plate months………………………