Leaving school and into the big world.

The festival was over and gone, so back to reality.

I only had a few months left before I left school, and was a bit upset to find that all the teachers including the headmaster had a big board, crossing off the days until my education was terminated at school.

I remember my final day, as the school bus drove in there was bunting everywhere, teachers were cracking open bottles of Champagne, and the Headmaster greeted me as I walked in, and I will never forget it.

He hugged me and said ' Thank you, for your final day here, now I can see my doctor and get off of the Valium tablets that I have needed since the day you were sent here '

I found out later that this was the case with many of my teachers, and that the local pharmacy had to close due to a lack of orders of antidepressants after I left.

Still, 16, long thick Roger Daltrey hair, and on my own.

First thing to do, get some wheels.

Like you cannot pull a girlfriend when you are riding a bicycle made for two.

So first thing pass the motorbike test, but to do that, you had to get a motorbike, but to get a motorbike you had to have money, which means a job.

So I got a job in a local factory, (it lasted 3 weeks) I have never been the indoor sort.

But when I was there I bumped into a kid that I had not seen since infant school called Lenny.

At junior school Lenny had an amazing talent.

The boy's toilets were outside and basically, a gutter on either side of a small building with the walls painted black, but the roof only came in from each side leaving a gap in the middle.

No gutters and the roof ran inwards so when it rained you had to keep near the walls or you got wet.

Presumably, some far-thinking person had thought this would teach young boys in later life to be able to pee in a toilet and not on the floor.

It didn't work as so many wives will tell you.

Still, as I said Lenny had an amazing talent. He could build up his pee to such pressure that he could send a jet of pee up on the roof.

So impressive at eight years old, no one else got near it.

Lenny had started at the factory a couple of weeks before me, but we got chatting.

'Nik' he said and I remember this like yesterday, so much coming back since I started this Blog, 'I am going to Newport tomorrow'

Tomorrow being Saturday. Newport is the capital of the Island and is 10 miles away.

' That's nice Len, what you going for'

'Well I have saved up a bit over the last couple of weeks and thought I would go shopping'

'Sounds good' By this time my interest in the conversation was running out, but I did not wish to be rude.

'Yeah, I am going on the number 12 bus, at 8.30, er what's it like?'

'Well it will be green, big, and nearly killed me once'

( That is another tale I will tell, that day I was run over by a bus and near-death experiences do not come closer than that, )

'No not the bus, Newport'

I was amazed, he was 16 and had never been, to Newport, but thinking back how could he?

He came from a big family with no money, went to school, the family like so many had no car, and anything he made from odd jobs, paper rounds, etc went to the family.

Different world.

Lenny did go and bought himself some new shoes, and jeans. Possibly the first new things he had ever had.

I could not stand factory life so left and lost contact with Lenny.

Four years later I was in a local pub playing darts and got a tap on the shoulder.

It was Lenny.

We were obviously older then so had a beer, basically so I could remind him of his talent at junior school and his trip to Newport.

We had a giggle over old times then I asked him what he was up to now.

' I joined the Foreign Legion two years ago, signed up for 5 years, I love it, now I speak three languages, have seen so many places and never looked back from the time in that factory'

Such is the power of travel.

16 years in the same place, then one bus trip and your life changes, mind you it was the time 'The Who' had the song 'magic bus 'out

Possibly Lenny got on it!

Good on you Lenny, last I heard he was doing well in Scotland running a security firm.

So back to yours truly,

I saved up to get a Hog, a motorbike, just like the pictures in Easy Rider, (again you young lot will have to google this) unless my very clever son has put a picture on for you, but then I will possibly get sued for copyright.

I write this, my son does the technical bits with the Internet, etc.

The slight snag was that I could only afford a BSM Bantam which was like a bicycle with a lawnmower engine attached to it.

The only way you could have got it to go over 40 miles an hour would be to throw it off a cliff with heavy weights tied to it.

But not to be deterred, I decided to customise it.

First thing was to get some high-rise handlebars called Ape Hangers.

Through the motorcycle magazine, I ordered some which were delivered.

Far out, Easy Rider here I come.

Took the old handlebars off and fitted the new ones.

Problem.

Ape Hanger handlebars are high so all the control cables, brake, clutch, and throttle are too short.

Bugger.

So a trip on the bus to the local motorbike shop, the owner of which was called Dave Death.

He was a real character and as far as I know, Dave Death Motorcycles is still going strong today.

Dave sorted out all the bits I needed, and off I went with my customised Hog.

I thought I looked so cool, just like Easy Rider, and could not believe that the local girls were not fighting to have a ride with a spotty 16-year-old riding a two-wheeled lawn mower with stupid handlebars.

Ha, now I look back and laugh at what the local girls missed out on then.

Contagious Acne, and haemorrhoids. They must be so bitter now, that they missed all of that.

Anyhow enough for now, I have just given my dog some bits I left over from dinner, (he had his earlier) and he will fart all night as there was some mashed cabbage in it.

Next time...

More about motorbikes, bachelor pads, the Red Arrows, and girlfriends.