A Fizzy History (well mine anyway)

[davecumbria]

Keep this to the New Forum...I have dark Secrets to tell.....

Thought it might be quite good to have a brief "fizzy History"

When I was at School we used to live in a village outside of town, these were the days before "mum's taxis" were invented, so my Dad who had owned motorcycles in his youth was keen for me to take up the family tradition.

My first experience of a motorcycle was being taken over Shap fell from Penrith to Kendal on a Ducati 750 V twin, me clinging on to the back, scared witless by the guy on the front. Sort of thinking me at 7 stone wet through made little or no difference to the performance of the Fire Breathing Ducati. This experience made me a bit wary of the whole idea, but for my 16th birthday I was taken over to Kendal to pick up the bike my dad had bought from a mate.

To say I was a bit taken aback when I saw the bike was an understatement, a 1967 Kerry Capitano 2 speed in Blue and Black. Think that dissapointment was written over my face in big letters. But the deal had been done and along with the free helmet (had to be, no daft sod would have paid for it) I was plonked on and given instructions how to ride. You used the pedals as a kickstart (it had a sachs motor later to become Minarelli?) the gears were selected by a twistgriop on the bars like a scooter, back brake was operated by moving the pedals backwards.

So off over Shap we went in convoy, until the old feller in his car got a bit sick of doing 35 (20 uphill)....not as sick as I was, the Cork Helmet with the pull down ear flaps was at least two sizes too small, My plan was to wait until dark before we made it home, so no-one would see me.

First thing was to get a provisional licence, L Plates ,some form of insurance and thankfully a new Stadium Open Face Helmet (optional extra peak!!)


In the following months the little Kerry suffered quite a bit of abuse, being flogged around the back lanes of the village and surrounding countryside, I discovered it was well handy when I wanted to skive off for a crafty fag and the smell of the fag would blow away on the way back.

O levels were looming in May/June and the weather wasnt always the best,so the bike was in the shed, but the week after the Exams were finishing, a teacher at the School was organising a "Motorcycle Training" course for the lads who had 'peds, so I signed up, finding out that we were allowed to bring our 'peds to school for the week.


Monday loomed, it was the beginning of that fantastic summer of '76 and so I rode to school to meet up with the rest of the lads who were on the course....all 4 of us.

Tony Watson, Phil Doak, And John Peel all had Fizzies, new or very good second hand, so yes I was the guy with the ropey kit who always gets picked last.

So despite all of the strict instructions that we weren’t to ride our peds during School hours, or go into town on them we all went out at lunchtime to hang around at the Chip shop, swimming pool or anywhere else we could pose and impress the girlies. It was only during that week that I got to ride on a fizzie for the first time. Tony had “impressed” a girl ! and so while he was busy impressing her further he let me have a go on his baja Fizzie.

The difference to my step thru and the fizz was a million miles apart, proper gears, proper equal pedals and this huge green neutral light sparkling in the speedo, smooth and fast, I was in dreamland


Think I was still dreaming about the Fizz on the way back to school when the front brake on the Kerry locked up and chucked me over the handlebars……….

So, the crap well and truly hit the fan when I got back to school, blood on my face, my green (don’t ask) flares skinned at the knees and blazer torn, I’ve never seen Gordon (the teacher) so incandescent with rage, or that colour of red, but I think once he realized I wasn’t badly hurt he calmed down and helped us to fix the old thing up (he had a scrap one for spares at home) so with a new headlight glass and rim fitted I went home with (I thought) the problem sorted.

Got home and of course the school had informed my Dad……so off to school on the bus for the rest of the week.

Every cloud as they say, I was still on the “training course” but with no bike things were a bit dodgy, until at break time a delivery van turned up and out of the back was lifted a brand new, Orangy Red SS50 ZB2 Honda. Of course this was the centre of attention with all the lads wanting one (if only they knew). Now whether Gordon felt sorry for me I don’t know but bike-less, he handed me the Keys and once I’d found the Ignition lock and turned her on, a couple of Kicks and she fired up

Sitting there twisting the throttle it putted away so clutch in, first gear, giving it a big handful like I needed to on the Kerry,…………… I dropped the clutch only for the front wheel to rear in the air and the bike to take off for the yard wall at a rate of knots with me hanging on for grim life, by good luck or whatever you want to call it I managed to shut off and brake, skidding to a halt mere inches from the aforementioned wall.

You know I said I’d never seen Gordon that red before….well he was the same colour again, but this time he was spluttering as well, as he yelled at me I thought that my motorcycling career was basically over.

Of course Tony, Peelo and Doaky were killing themselves laughing and it was only later during a sneaky fag behind the prefab classroom they told me that they couldn’t decide what was funnier, my look of Terror or Gordon’s equally horrified look when he thought I was going to total the Schools new Bike!

Anyway enough for now….to be continued (if you want)

[jobby]

very enjoyable read, more please

[garyb]

keep it coming great stuff!

[marky]

i bet there was snow on shap fell somewhere dave even in that glorious summer i was up there myself in 1976

[yamaharob]

Great read, more please

[davecumbria]

I know its been a while but the story continues......

As mentioned, the Exams had finished, but the School Term went on for a couple of weeks after, so long drawn out days lounging in the Sunshine in The Town’s Castle Park. The old feller had lifted the ban on me bike riding so was able to ride the bike to school again as I’d convinced him it was a fortnights training course, so of course the “Gang of Four” were up to their usual tricks riding around town and generally messing about. We even rode up to the lake to watch the young girls at the outward bound School (an excellent pulling venue)

Even though we were only fifth years we were lucky to be allocated a “common room” which was basically the Geology Lab (it also doubled up as a bit of a lecture theatre)

We’d rigged up a method of making cups of coffee with a Tripod, bunsen burner, and a Camping Kettle, and although matches weren’t allowed in school, we thought that it was pretty cool to have a Zippo Lighter (to get round the rule on a technicality). Mine was of course very second hand, so second hand it used to leak petrol fumes into my immediate surroundings, my story was the bike had a bit of a leak from the fuel tap that was blowing onto my trousers hence the petrol smell.

Well anyway it was still cool to flick open the top to light a roll up when you were trying to look cool on the ped .

Anyway the Penultimate day of term arrived and at Ten O’clock we were to present ourselves in full uniform at the front of the school for the end of Year photograph..

School Uniform was Grey Slacks, Grey V Neck Jumper, White Shirt, Striped Tie, black shoes and for some reason a horrible Blue/Grey Tweed Jacket

My Uniform.. Black Flared Trousers (green were holed remember) Navy Blue V Neck Jumper, Dark Blue Ben Sherman shirt with button down collar (undone) Striped Tie knotted in such a way only 3 inches of tie protruded out of a huge knot, Alan Buckby DM shoes (burgundy) and a black Blazer

No end of term photo for me then……..So up in the Geology Lab for a coffee


Not surprisingly a few of the usual suspects had the same Idea

But back to the immediate problem of the leaking zippo, somehow I’d got a tin of lighter fluid into school to keep it topped up, and it was stored in the back of a cupboard under the sink. One lad who used to hang about in the common room found it and was demonstrating his “Flaming stunt man” trick by putting some lighter fluid onto the sleeve of his blazer, setting fire to it, waving his flaming sleeve about, and then extinguishing it by patting it with his hand. To rounds of applause and laughter


WARNING small children should not attempt this with their pet gerbils


Anyway he took it upon himself to empty the remaining dregs of lighter fluid into the sink, not a smart move, especially as his next one was to light the Bunsen burner to heat the kettle up.

It was only when the slow motion film that I was part of,… started to advance…. frame by frame…. with the sight of a still lit match ….being thrown into the sink


I was halfway across the lab when the WUPH! of igniting fuel sent flames to the ceiling, pulling off my blazer I opened it out to cover the top of the sink to extinguish the flames. The smell of burnt blazer and lighter fuel filled the room.

The flames were extinguished pretty quickly and the windows flung open to get rid of the smell, and then the room was evacuated pretty smartish I can tell you.

So Janine Oldham, you werent imagining things when you were sitting in the rows of kids having your picture taken, it wasnt a reflection of sunlight on the glass (which we told her later when she challenged us) And I'm really sorry Mr Rodgers,.... honest.....


more if wanted....

[tonyf]

Very good.....

[pertheswede]

Keep it coming Dave, most enjoyable!!

Ever thought about writing as a career!??

[funkymoped]

Now then Dave do you want to assist me writing this book as you have a naturel talent there pal!

[davecumbria]

So school came to an end, for the summer break. It was strange really, nowadays kids have a School Prom and generally have a laugh, writing graffiti on each other’s sweatshirts and partying through the last day. I suppose it’s a generation step, I just seem to remember it being very hot (it was the summer of ’76 after all), with the school being very quiet as the rest of the year groups were taking their end of year exams

The form register was taken as per usual after lunchtime, and after closing the book, Mr. Rodgers said, right that’s it, off you go! So wandering down the slope of the drive to the gates, it all felt a bit surreal, 12 years in Education you are on your own lad!

Looking back, yes, I could have done better, yes I should have done more, but at the time, all I could really think about was “how the hell am I going to get enough cash together to buy a Fizzy!”

And so started that famous long hot Summer of 1976, Now Tony and Phil had decided to leave school, John was a Farmers son, so he already worked on the farm. I was (in theory) going to return after the break.

At the time you left school, until you got your O Level results you couldn’t guarantee a place on the Sixth Form, (not like these days where you’ve got 2 GCSE’s and they beg you to stay on)

So I was left pretty much to my own devices meeting the lads when they finished work or at weekends but now they had Jobs and paypackets on a Friday night it was a bit difficult to keep up!

Two weeks before I got my Exam results Dad announced that we were moving house (again!) honest it was like we were having to do a Flit, so not wanting to start yet another school and be the “new boy” it was time to get a job.

So when the move came to Kendal it was down to the Jobcentre to obtain gainful employment and get some cash!

Strange isn’t it, how things work out. It was late August when I started work for Cumbria County Council, on a temporary basis, carrying out a “Bus Survey” which involved riding the bus routes in the area, counting the passengers using the buses, the frequency of their journey, and identifying the most used stops (I suppose nowadays an on-board computer would do that for you without even having to think about it).

You would end up in all these strange places at all hours of the day or night, sometimes with only the driver for company. At odd times you would b dropped off in some village and have to wait for hours to get the next bus back without seeing another soul, apart from the odd stray dog. Time passes slowly at 5am in the now colder misty mornings of late September.

One little village called Burton, which is about 9 miles south of Kendal, just off the M6 was a regular change round point, which is where I found myself being dropped at around 6.15am on one of those aforementioned mornings. The one thing I had to look forward to on that particular morning was that after two months work (one month in hand) I would receive my first pay cheque, which should be in the post when I got home.

Now nearly every village at that time had a garage, and Burton was no exception, apart from attatched to it was a Newsagents and shop, so I’d got in out of the cold from the bus stop when the shop opened at 7.30, buying a Mars bar and a can of pop for breakfast (no you couldn’t get bloody croissants and Cappachino in rural Cumbria in 1976!!)

The workshop of the garage had opened with the Mechanic dragging back the double door to get the cars stored overnight on to the forecourt looking through the doors tucked to the side was a bike, ……a Purple Fizzy!

So I asked the mechanic if I could have a look?, “sure” came the reply and so I went in, only to be disappointed, the fizzy had no front end. The mechanic came over as I was looking around, to see where the rest of the bike was. “the boss was going to do it up” said the mechanic “he’s got the bits somewhere, the lad who had it came off and bent the forks, so they’ve been straightened and new parts bought, but I think he’s lost interest”

I found out that “The Boss” wouldn’t be back till later that morning and as I had a bus to catch I said I would try to get down later on.

Work that morning was a real drag, time went so slowly, but checking my route list for the day I would be finished at two, so back on a bus to Burton as soon as I finished.
So the bus to Burton had an excited freeloader on board that afternoon, as I used my works pass to get a ride, just hoping that I wouldn’t get caught.

So the Boss at the garage was there in his office, I can’t remember his name as it all seemed to happen in a blur, yes he would sell the bike, it was “all there” he had the log book, keys and he wanted a Hundred Pounds.

A Hundred Pounds………..Cash


A Hundred Pounds!!!!

Where was I going to get a Hundred pounds from? You got £7.70 a week on the dole in those days as a sixteen year old, and out of that the digs of a fiver had to be paid


More to come