Three gears, 1100cc engine (although the guy in the Esso station told us that 'Ford has never produced an 1100 cc Popular' - what a dick. Mark insisted on arguing the toss) and all he had to do was point at the car.
One night, We (Mark Gaskill, Dave, Pete Benjafield and myself) drove down to Southend or Canvey Island in it - not sure which, but it rattled like hell at about 50 MPH - I can remember the mind numbing resonance of the thing as we encroached over the magic limit. Next day I got underneath it and discovered there was only one half-undone 3/8" bolt holding the drive shaft on (in an elliptical bolt-hole, at the gearbox connection) - luckily we never pole vaulted through the air!
There was always a problem with the electrics. It wouldn't charge the battery so we replaced that - in fact I believe we replaced every damn electrical device on the bloody thing and it still wasn't right (This was fine though, Mark was providing all the bits from his dads garage) it also provided many excuses for not getting to Harold Hill training centre on time.
To end a frustrating chapter it almost burst into flames one day as I turned the ignition key and the wiring loom almost evaporated into space, filling the interior with acrid grey smoke. Too many replaced electric parts by young apprentices increased the potential for direct shorts by a hundredfold...
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Ford 100E
This was my first car and as usual I rushed into buying. I don't even think I test drove it - maybe had a spin around the block with the owner driving. Ilford, Essex - just by the train station - down that road - you know....
It cost forty five quid and then a further twenty seven to insure it for three months. It was nicknamed the "sluggard" and for quite a few months it was an adventure, and an education.
The car was nearly as old as me, I think 1959 was its birth year, 1976 was going to be its last....
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Layering
The trouble with blogging is that each new entry pushes the previous one down a layer and keeping events in chronological order is impossible without spending extra time at a later date juggling the words.
The last ten or so entries have been anything but in time order, but as I think of this, neither is my brain as I time-slip backwards and forwards.
One day, if there is time, and if it matters, I will arrange them in some order, an impossible task as when that is complete, more memories will surface and will need to be inserted back through blogger time.
The last ten or so entries have been anything but in time order, but as I think of this, neither is my brain as I time-slip backwards and forwards.
One day, if there is time, and if it matters, I will arrange them in some order, an impossible task as when that is complete, more memories will surface and will need to be inserted back through blogger time.
Group C
The first year of apprenticeship was not a unique experience, usually shared by small groups of strangers thrown together, here is a direct transcript of a special diary entry.
"Ay, those days of Hopkins (got a Christmas card off him) who was a big headed person who nobody in the group liked (mostly Jousiffe) Nesbitt was a veritable creep with hairy arms and striped cardigan with black school pants. Brian Edgecombe was a bit possessive with his stuff and a bit of a poet!. Jack liked getting things right while Mr Paton was very scruffy with a 250cc Honda and a superior think disposition.
Mr Jousiffe was alright if not a bit reckless, Mr Knapp too was alright but stuck up. I was unintelligent. Kimbo was the group ponce who thought he knew everything.
Well, in the first year exams, two failed. Beefy Brian and I. I managed to take the exam again but Brian didn't try. I passed, he went down the Met. There was another one in our group, Nick Ravinet, he was a good lad, he left to take up insurance."
A group of people that all had challenges in that first year, some survived, some moved on. The second year was to prove more difficult and more of the group would retire for an early bath.
"Ay, those days of Hopkins (got a Christmas card off him) who was a big headed person who nobody in the group liked (mostly Jousiffe) Nesbitt was a veritable creep with hairy arms and striped cardigan with black school pants. Brian Edgecombe was a bit possessive with his stuff and a bit of a poet!. Jack liked getting things right while Mr Paton was very scruffy with a 250cc Honda and a superior think disposition.
Mr Jousiffe was alright if not a bit reckless, Mr Knapp too was alright but stuck up. I was unintelligent. Kimbo was the group ponce who thought he knew everything.
Well, in the first year exams, two failed. Beefy Brian and I. I managed to take the exam again but Brian didn't try. I passed, he went down the Met. There was another one in our group, Nick Ravinet, he was a good lad, he left to take up insurance."
A group of people that all had challenges in that first year, some survived, some moved on. The second year was to prove more difficult and more of the group would retire for an early bath.
Gone
It was April 2nd, 1975 and less than six months from the day I "bought" the motorbike and it was gone, sold, for a hundred pounds, including all the extras.
I was still paying the monthly drip for the bike for another six months and there was no intention, thought or clue about using this money to pay that off, like the idiot I was, it was spent within two weeks and I was back to having money problems.
There was plenty to keep the young boy busy though, on March 21st I had sex for the very first time (grand old age of 17 and 5/12s) with workshop and college about to become frantic with the impending first year exams.
I was still paying the monthly drip for the bike for another six months and there was no intention, thought or clue about using this money to pay that off, like the idiot I was, it was spent within two weeks and I was back to having money problems.
There was plenty to keep the young boy busy though, on March 21st I had sex for the very first time (grand old age of 17 and 5/12s) with workshop and college about to become frantic with the impending first year exams.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Yamaha
It's never just about the loan payment, or Hire Purchase as they used to call it, the never never, the drip, or just plain old debt.
It didn't take me long into my working life to get into debt, although it could be argued I was in debt at school, my mum ran a Kays mail order catalog and I was always spending my pocket money on something naff and overpriced.
The Yamaha came with lots of extras, the carrier box, the gloves, the helmet, the visor, and that was before it hit the road. As a new rider, the insurance was high and of course, over a few months, the bike did hit the road, several times.
In fact, I put the bike down, slowly though, on the way back from the shop the night I picked it up when my loan cleared. I could ride in a straight line, but I found the corners tricky. The other times were far less controlled and I found myself sliding around when it rained, and it rained a lot that time of the year.
One lunchtime at Barking College, a friend asked if I could whizz him "just around the car park" and he jumped on the back, I tried to show off, did a bit of a wheely and took off like a rocket, both of us without helmets. A Mercedes was driving into the car park and I saw it at the last minute, put the bike down into a slide and ended up under the back wheel.
The tire on the Merc was punctured and my front shock was bent, my elbow was thumped and my pelvis chipped from a steel popstud on my jacket. It ended up being an expensive car park trip and, with a bike off the road for two months and continuing payments, the Evil Knievel chapter of my life came to an end.
It didn't take me long into my working life to get into debt, although it could be argued I was in debt at school, my mum ran a Kays mail order catalog and I was always spending my pocket money on something naff and overpriced.
The Yamaha came with lots of extras, the carrier box, the gloves, the helmet, the visor, and that was before it hit the road. As a new rider, the insurance was high and of course, over a few months, the bike did hit the road, several times.
In fact, I put the bike down, slowly though, on the way back from the shop the night I picked it up when my loan cleared. I could ride in a straight line, but I found the corners tricky. The other times were far less controlled and I found myself sliding around when it rained, and it rained a lot that time of the year.
One lunchtime at Barking College, a friend asked if I could whizz him "just around the car park" and he jumped on the back, I tried to show off, did a bit of a wheely and took off like a rocket, both of us without helmets. A Mercedes was driving into the car park and I saw it at the last minute, put the bike down into a slide and ended up under the back wheel.
The tire on the Merc was punctured and my front shock was bent, my elbow was thumped and my pelvis chipped from a steel popstud on my jacket. It ended up being an expensive car park trip and, with a bike off the road for two months and continuing payments, the Evil Knievel chapter of my life came to an end.
Everyone starts Somewhere
A few years after my Raleigh Chopper bike, I phoned my mum from Romford and told her that I was going to buy a car. There was silence at the other end of the phone and she said that under no circumstances should I buy a car.
So I bought a motorbike....
It was early November 1974 and I really did not know how to ride a motorbike, the Yamaha YCS1, 180cc bike was below the "legal" 250cc level, so I could ride on a provisional licence, obtained a few weeks before, just after my seventeenth birthday.
The number plate was WUW339G according to my diary.
At the time I was living with a family called the Wilsons, the father actually secured my loan, which, if memory serves me, was over one hundred and twenty pounds, a fair old debt for someone who was earning about fourteen pounds a week (before about nine pounds of expenses).
It was soon to prove a lot more expensive.
So I bought a motorbike....
It was early November 1974 and I really did not know how to ride a motorbike, the Yamaha YCS1, 180cc bike was below the "legal" 250cc level, so I could ride on a provisional licence, obtained a few weeks before, just after my seventeenth birthday.
The number plate was WUW339G according to my diary.
At the time I was living with a family called the Wilsons, the father actually secured my loan, which, if memory serves me, was over one hundred and twenty pounds, a fair old debt for someone who was earning about fourteen pounds a week (before about nine pounds of expenses).
It was soon to prove a lot more expensive.
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