(In a previous post, ‘Belts and Braces’, I’ve reprinted an article I originally penned for the Hampshire County Magazine in 1988. It’s an affectionate recollection of my maternal grandfather’s motorcycle and box.)
My penchant for two wheels saw me progress rather quickly, from tricycle to bicycle, and during my early teens, my thoughts were of little else than motorcycles and motorcycling. A school-friend lived on a farm, and he was also smitten. I visited secretly, and we’d take turns at riding an old Matchless around the fields.
By the time I was old enough to legally ride a motorbike on the public highway, my parents had mustered all their wits and wisdom to persuade me towards four wheels.
I did own a trail bike in the early 80s, but I always felt so exposed on it, after years in a car. The closest I get to biking these days, is on the edge of my seat, as Valentino Rossi weaves his magic around the circuits of the world.
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© 2010, copyright Martin T. Hodges