A week before my 17th birthday, the dealer delivered my TS185, simply to stop me visiting him every day to have a look at it. It was duly placed in the shed, where I used to polish it, and sit on it, and start it up, and listen to the power of all seventeen tiny Suzuki horses charging away beneath the tank. By the Thursday evening, I could stand it no longer, and decided to break cover, and take the bike up to the school youth club, to show off to my mates, most of whom had FS1Es, AP50s, Puch Grand Prix, and SS50s.
I fashioned a number plate out of cardboard, and sneakily pushing the bike away from the house, set off for school. Bear in mind, my biking experience at this point consisted of 10 minutes of wobbling about on, and falling off, a friend's RD125 twin.
Having made it along the A2 to the pedestrian footbridge without incident, I pushed the bike over the bridge, and set off across the hockey fields to the Sports Hall. The hockey fields at The Howard School, Rainham, are set in a natural amphitheatre, and I relished the idea of a little hill climb to test the power of this firebreathing beast beneath me. Unfortunately, I hit the embankment at an angle, rather than square on, and the front wheel tucked under, pitching me over the bars. Gaining my feet, and my composure, I picked up the bike, to discover that the brake lever had been snapped off. I parked the bike in the school car park, and went to play 5 a side football, whilst neglecting to mention my dirty, broken, pride and joy outside.
Leaving around half nine in the evening, I decided that I would push it home, as I had probably used up my quota of luck for the day. This proved more tiring than I expected, and, by the time I got to my turning, I resolved to get on, and ride home very slowly. The Suzuki fired first kick, and I trundled off down Pump Lane at a gentle 20mph. All it needed was a straight, one left turn, another straight, and I was home. Now, I'd ridden down Pump Lane many hundreds of times on my pushbike, and I would have sworn on my own life that it was straight. I was wrong. After about 250yds, there is a little right-left S bend.
Imagine my surprise as the feeble glow from the 25W 6v headlamp picked out the roadsign on the fence, directly ahead of me. Feel the excitement, as the front wheel hits the kerb, and heads skyward. The front wheel cleared the fence, whilst the rear did not. Oh no. The rear dragged the fence into the garden behind me, uprooting stakes one by one, as the wire link fence gave up in the face of unequal odds.
Seconds later, there lay I, once more beneath my little Suzuki, and several pounds' worth of prime fencing material, with the little two stroke single screaming away, as the throttle was jammed wide open. As you may realise, the treads on Bridgestone Trail Wing tyres, even tiny 3.50x18 ones, are quite pronounced. Pronounced enough, indeed, when spinning in a flower bed, to uproot small decorative rose bushes, and throw them at the house, some 7 or 8 yards away. The biggest sailed in the direction of the porch *just* as the irate householder appeared at the door. I had to stifle a chuckle as it rolled to a halt at his slippered feet.
Much shouting ensued, and I was eventually let of with a bill of 10 quid (all I was carrying), as a car had done exactly the same as me, two nights earlier. As I had no tax,insurance, registration, or licence, I considered this a fair penalty.
