Escapology, and four wheels down to two.

I have a healthy obsession with escaping. That feeling of being pinned down, of routine, and drudgery, it doesn't sit well with me. As a five year old, I escaped the house and fell into a garden fire, arms first trying to retrieve a rusty old pedal car that was being disposed of against my will. The car was probably knackered, but it had wheels and it was mine, advanced logic, even at that age.  

That set a precedent. At 8, I escaped again, and was found hitch-hiking up the A1 on my way to a friends Aunt, in Edinburgh, no address, but I was on the Northbound carriageway, so I knew I had a decent sense of direction at least. At seventeen college and home were firmly in the rear view mirror and armed with a Suzuki DR125 I was finally footloose. This wasn't my first bike though. My Dad bought a Suzuki TS100 home once, for himself, as he fancied doing a bit of green laning. I fancied doing a bit of green laning too, so when he went on holiday I jammed a screwdriver into the ignition and managed to start it. I then romped up and down our 50 foot drive for two weeks making an absolute racket on this yellow two-stroke. I was clearly a natural, as I managed to tear down the drive whilst giving the finger to my elderly neighbours. I was 15 then, and it eventually fell into my posession. I loved that bike, I used to thrape it round everywhere, and when I ran out of petrol I'd just lift off the tank and walk to the nearest petrol station, stick a couple of litres in and walk back. Eventually I left all the bolts off the tank, and just trapped it in place with the seat to make removal quicker. That was upgraded to a DR125, which was a four stroke, and a bit of a nail. I'm sure I'd appreciate the qualities now, but at the time, I thought it was a bag of shit. 

So much so that 3 weeks later I took it a car lot in Bradford, and straight swapped it for a TR7. My first car. VMA 165R. In white. Beautiful.

NOTE: I am absolutely incompetent when it comes to buying, or selling, any vehicle.

I buy unseen, or on a whim, or out of boredom. I have lost a sizeable fortune on cars over the years. In fact, the only reason that hasn't happened with motorbikes to the same extent, is that they are a tenth of the price. My track record there still isn't good. I also change vehicles regularly, and that doesn't help the financial side.

The car lot where the TR7 came from was behind a petrol station forecourt, as I filled it up on the way out, it was leaking out of the underside. Oh well I thought, I'll sort that later. It was completely trashed. Rotten through and the brakes were non-existent. I crashed it into a couple of concrete pillars on a bridge on the way home, I tried to stop as a car I was behind slowed to turn right, it was the car or the bridge, and I had no insurance. So I hit the bridge. A Triumph TR7 is shark-nosed, with pop-up headlights. I now had a completely perfect square taken out of one corner. 3 weeks later I had a 5 mile an hour shunt into the night porter of the hotel I worked at, he came round a corner in the middle of the drive up to the hotel, and clipped my front end. This time he squared off the other side of the car, it also bent the front wheel back, 3 weeks later, aforementioned wheel detached itself from the front of the car and went bouncing down the hill in front of me. I dumped the car and scrapped it. 

Nearly 30 years would pass before I managed to escape again, and motorbikes were back in my life. The intervening years had been spent, well, living, I was a petrol-head throughout all that, and was lucky enough to have owned many of the cars I'd use to chase down the street after as a child. But I'd been too sensible to pass my bike test, as I knew I'd kill myself. In my early forties I started to seriously consider it. I'm going to write about my journey from four wheels to two, and the circumstances around it. Suffice to say, motorbikes are my thing now, I'm obsessed, and they have had a positive effect on my life generally. This blog is the record of that journey. Enjoy.