• HOME
  • BLOGS
  • PEOPLE & PLACES
  • MODEL AUTO-BIOGRAPHY
  • MILITARY
  • CHRISTMAS ISLAND JOURNAL
  • TRANS-USA JOURNAL
  • PATAGONIA & PERU JOURNAL
  • PATAGONIA & PERU (RSS)
  • GREEN LINE
  • PSV DELIVERY WORK
  • PSV VIDEOS
  • ELECTION 2010.
  • MINTERNE
  • TALKING PHOTOS
  • HUMOUR
  • LINKS

Trixie

6/7/2014

1 Comment

 
Apparently more road traffic accidents happen within a mile from home than anywhere else; and, unfortunately, on Friday evening, I fell into that category. Paradoxically, "fell' was an entirely appropriate description for the situation in which I found myself; but, more of that later.

I had ridden Trixie up to visit my sister in the east midlands on Thursday afternoon and, apart from a lengthy delay getting through Tewkesbury (I had forgotten about the F1 practice-day at Silverstone), I had enjoyed a pleasant journey followed by an equally pleasant evening.


On the following day, unwilling to face the prospect of an even longer delay on the A5, I chose a different route; and after a visit to someone near Ayelsbury, I thought that a pleasant spin along the country lanes of Buckinghamshire, Oxfordshire, and Berkshire would be a nice way to get me back onto a familiar route through Henley-on-Thames. Yes! The one where the have the big regatta; and which weekend do you suppose it was being held this year?

Say no more.

Anyway, the ride through the town was a lot better than might have been expected and, although there was the usual build-up of traffic as the Friday rush-hour approached, it could have been a lot worse and it was shortly after four pm when I reached the final mile of my journey.

Photos can be enlarged by "clicking" on them.........


Now, those who are familiar with where we live (for the time being) would agree that, although the scenery is geautiful, the roads (most of which are narrow lanes) leave a lot to be admired (see above); and I had just started to descend after the last climb of the day when, in a section of road even narrower than the one shown above (on the right), a car coming up the hill did one of two things (IMHO).

Either the driver didn't give a toss who else was on the road and he or she (I didn't get a good look) wasn't going to slow down for anyone; or they thought that I was riding a conventional two-wheeled scooter and hadn't realised how much wider Trixie is.


She is, after all, quite a large lady.....
Picture

In any event, my attempt to avoid being struck caused the near-side front wheel to hit the bank and the next thing I can remember is finding my face pressed against the ground, feeling a terrible pain in my left ankle, and realising that Trixie had fallen on top of me - trapping my left leg beneath her.

For a moment, I imagined that the driver of the offending car might be rushing to my aid; but I soon realised that was not going to happen and I started to cry out - partly for help and partly in pain. Mind you, what good that would have done in a remote part of The Surrey Hills is open to question.

What wasn't open to question, however, was that I was in a lot of pain but couldn't release my foot by tying to lift Trixie with my hands and arms. So, with some difficulty, I managed to drag my right leg over the seat far enough to use it to raise the trike just enough to free my left foot; however, at that point, I have to say, I was a little perplexed because my toes seemed to be at a right-angle to my knee - which remained trapped.

In the meantime, I was becoming aware of the smell of petrol (I always try to support local traders and had just filled up); and the fact that the engine was still running caused me some concern. Luckily, however, a car arrived and the driver ran to my aid - enquiring nervously, "Are you alright, mate?".

Resisting the temptation to ask, "What sort of a stupid question is that?", I managed to mutter something like, "Well. Not really."  and, thereafter, I'm not absolutely sure of the sequence of events; but I do know that another driver arrived and they managed to pull Trixie away from me and engage the handbrake and the mechanism which keeps her upright.

By now, my left ankle and lower leg seemed to triggering some sort of local anesthetic and I declined their offer to phone for an ambulance; preferring, instead, to ring my younger son to come to see what was the best plan of action. He arrived quite quickly; it was - as I suggested at the beginning of this blog - little more than half a mile from home. So, although he thought I should drive his car, I decided to see if I could ride Trixie; and managed to complete the journey rather slowly - but, without too much trouble.

When I got indoors, the pain got worse and I was ordered (my wife was heavily involved with St. John Ambulance Brigade when younger) to place both feet in a bath of cold water. I did so again before going to bed and have done so again two or three times, today, in addition to taking advantage of some crutches my wife bought after her hip-replacement............
Picture
Picture
1 Comment

Trixie

15/10/2013

0 Comments

 
For those interested in such matters (if, indeed, there are any), Trixie had a full service this afternoon and is now facing the future with a brand new spark-plug, oil cartridge, and rear-wheel tyre. End of bulletin.
0 Comments

Trixie

28/9/2013

0 Comments

 
PictureTrixie
I must confess that I struggled for a while before deciding which Category (see right) would be appropriate for this blog. For a start, it had been motivated by a thought and, at the same time, involved a trip down Memory Lane. However, ultimately, the star of the piece was my trike; so, Trixie is the obvious choice.

Last Sunday; whilst realising I would become seventy-five on the following day, it occurred to me that it must also be almost exactly seventy years since I started school; and, that in itself was quite an interesting story............

Shortly after WW2 started; and not long before my father was invited to help the nation teach Mr. Hitler a lesson, my Godfather (who happened to be the youngest brother of my father's boss) offered to let my mother and I move from the bomb-ravaged city of Liverpool (where I was born) into a cottage on a small estate he owned in north Wales (where she was born).

At that time, that particular region of Wales was almost entirely Welsh-speaking and, especially after my father was conscripted, I hardly spoke English at all and there was a concern that I might encounter language difficulties when returning to England after the war. So, rather than attend the local village school, it was decided to send me to an English boarding school which had been evacuated into a manor house in the Conway Valley. As it happens, it was a girls' school and, perhaps, because I showed a little too much interest in the girls (or they in me) - but, for whatever reason - after about eighteen months I was moved to an English boys' school which had been evacuated to an hotel in Betws-y-coed.

Moving forward to the present day, as last Monday was also the first day of autumn, I felt that the forecast for a few days of reasonably mild weather might offer the last opportunity of the year to take Trixie for a jaunt; whilst, at the same time allow me to re-visit the past. So, since the manor house is now an hotel  (and requesting that I stay in the room in which I had slept as a child) I booked in for a couple of nights.



Picture
Plas Maenan Hotel

I have since discovered that the day I rode up to Snowdonia and stayed the night at the manor was exactly seventy years - to the day - since my first night there in 1943.


On the way up to Wales, I called for a cuppa at the office of a man I used to meet often during my bus delivery days (who happens to be a fan of my son) and
, although I quite enjoyed the 275 mile ride up from Surrey - and in spite of leisurely a soak in a piping hot bath - my elderly joints and back were aching quite a lot when it came time to go to bed; and the realisation that I had forgotten to pack pain-killing tablets seemed to accentuate the problem. So, I'm afraid I didn't sleep very well at all.

After a light breakfast, overnight rain meant that Trixie needed to be towelled down before I set off to visit my ninety-three year-old aunt in a nursing home in the Lleyn peninsula; and, although there was no heavy rain, even the mist seemed to be quite damp during the journey and I was glad of the opportunity to dry-off and get a bit of warmth during the time we spent together.

It was after lunch-time when I left and I wasted two hours trying to persuade a pharmacist who seemed unable (or unwilling) to show some discretion whilst dealing with my own surgery in an effort to get me some pain-killers. Eventually, I aborted the attempt and, later spent some time visiting a couple of childhood friends and relatives from the time I had lived with my grandparents during the last few months of the war.


Picture
Lyn Gwynant

On the way back to the manor - acting on the advice of friends - I visited another chemist in a different town who was far more obliging and I finally got my hands of pain-killers. Having done that, I followed a very familiar route through Snowdonia; passing my favourite lake on the way (see above).

I also managed to visit the cottage in which my mother and I had lived during the war and, having received the usual gracious welcome (I've called there a couple of times previously), I took a picture of Trixie for the photo album (see below - left). Later, having posed at the front entrance, I secured her to a convenient railing outside the side of the manor - almost as one might do with a pet dog (see below).


Although I had exchanged pleasantries with one or two fellow guests on the first night there, the second night seemed much more convivial. I don't know whether word had got round of my previous association with the manor; but, for whatever reason, I met and chatted with quite a few nice people - and, in particular a pretty young lass from near where I lived in Liverpool after the war.

On Thursday, it had been my original intention to head home via Cheshire and The Peak District (two regions in which I had lived) and spend the night with my sister and her husband in the east midlands. In the event, however, Mrs. Burt, the hotel owner reminded me of a lady who had written a book about her time as a schoolgirl at the manor during the war.

Her name was Mary Hopson and I had actually bought her book after a brief visit to the manor during my bus delivery days and I seem to recall that there was a reference to myself in one of the chapters. However, I had misplaced it; so, having checked there was a copy available, I 'phoned my sister to explain that I was changing plans and heading for south Wales - where Mary now lived.

As had been the case on Wednesday, the weather was leaving a lot to be desired; but, it could have been a lot worse; furthermore, I had long held an ambition to drive/ride right down the centre of Wales and I arrived in Monmouth around tea-time - not too cold and not too wet, but grateful for a warm welcome.

As it happened, the welcome could not have been warmer. In addition to being given the book as a gift, Mary and her husband David invited me to spend the night at their delightful home. The photo was taken on my very basic mobile phone.....



Picture
David and Mary Hopson
After a light meal, Mary left to attend a meeting and David and I had a most delightful evening exchanging anecdotes about our respective experiences. I had never met a former comprehensive school master who had owned a castle; so, it can be imagined what an interesting conversation we had.

On the following morning, whilst studying the road atlas, I realised that my route home passed a village where a chap with whom I had shared a tent during the nuclear tests at Christmas Island lived; and I was fortunate enough to find him at home and we chatted over a mug of tea until I set off to complete what turned out to be a fairly uneventful final lap of my journey home.
0 Comments

Trixie

12/7/2013

0 Comments

 
Last night - right out of the blue - son #2 was offered a complimentary ticket for today's Goodwood Festival of Speed and, although he couldn't go himself, he realised I could and he accepted it. So, as the weather forecasters were suggesting it was going to be a nice day, I decided that taking Trixie might be a nice idea; and I'm extremely glad I did because I was able to cruise past what must have been over two miles of cars queuing to get to their parking area. I subsequently heard that a queue of similar length stretched a similar distance from the opposite direction and a motor-cyclist told me that a friend of his who had left at the same time as him (in a car) took over two hours longer to complete the journey. (click on photos to enlarge).


I imagined that some of the car drivers might have been a little miffed by the fact that motor-cycles seemed to be jumping the queue; however, there was a separate parking area for motor-cycles; so, they weren't gaining an unfair advantage. A free bus service then took us a couple of miles to the festival area. Thereafter, there was too much going on to list in a simple blog; sufficient to say - putting aside the fact that I felt prices were generally exorbitant - I spent an enjoyable few hours at the event.
0 Comments

Trixie

25/4/2013

0 Comments

 
Picture
As well as attending to minor details about Trixie's looks (see previous blog), I can also report issues concerning my own appearance. During the occasional long-distance jaunts I undertook last year, for example, I had borrowed son #2, Adam's, leather jacket (see left). It was great for deflecting the wind; in particulatr, at higher speeds. (Although I tend to keep to A and B roads most of the time, there have been occasions when I venture  onto the motorway system and I was surprised to discover that Trixie could tootle along in the high eighties (MPH) with gay abandon).

In time, my better half sensed that, although the arrangement suited me rather well, it might not have met with the unbridled approval of the aforementioned #2 son. So, as is her wont, she kept her eyes open at the assorted jumble sales, car-boot sales, and visits to various charity shops......

Picture
..............and, in time found a rather swish looking Italian job (see right) which appeared to be brand new and fitted the bill quite well. Interestingly, a search on Goggle revealed that this particular brand had been involved in some sort of a scam in the USA and Ireland.

From my own point of view, it was warm and comfortable; however, whilst on the trike, it wasn't quite as efficient as Adam's because - since it had buttons, rather than a zip - the wind did tend to find a way inside the jacket.

So, with her usual tenacity, Bea found another jacket...........

Picture


..............which is absolutely perfect; and so it should be, because it was designed specifically for motor-cycle use. In addition to the zip, the absence of a large collar enables the helmet to fit more comfortably and, although the Italian jacket seemed quite substantial, the leather used for the motor-cycle jacket is significantly thicker and heavier. So, I'm well pleased and the Italian job is now used as a fashion accessory.

More importantly, however, the clever little woman managed to get both of them for less than thirty quid (not each - but in total).

0 Comments

Trixie

24/4/2013

0 Comments

 
It seems difficult to believe; but, early last year, the weather was quite mild. In fact, a previous blog reveals that I took Trixie for her first run of the year in early January. This year, however, presents an entirely different kettle of fish; and after a miserable autumn and equally miserable winter, well into the month of April, I've just taken her out of the garage. Mercifully, having invested in battery conditioner, she started on the first turn of the key and, hopefully, the weather will improve from now on.



In the meantime, in much the same way that I personalise my cars (above) to reflect my heritage, I took the opportunity to make Trixie stand out from the crowd a little bit and placed a couple of transfers on the trike and my helmet, too (below).

Click on photos to enlarge......

0 Comments

Trixie

14/8/2012

0 Comments

 

When I started work in 1955, over half of my weekly wage of two guineas (£2.10) was spent on bus fares to get there and back home; so, my father bought me a motorbike for my 17th. birthday.  It was a 350cc. Royal Enfield (below - left). Later, during my military service, I rode several motorbikes - such as the BSA (below - centre). Finally, after I was demobbed, I bought a 650cc. Triumph Thunderbird with a Swallow sidecar (below - right and as featured in a recent TV advert).

(Click on photos to enlarge).

In those days, for many of my generation, motorbikes were a means of getting from A to B for those who couldn't afford a car. More recently, however, they seem to have become big (and, often rich) boys' toys and, since renewing my interest in motorbikes, I've had the opportunity to observe modern-day bikers (as they like to be known) and, in particular, their attitudes - but, more of that later.........

One obvious difference between then and now is the emphasis which is being placed on 'accessories' (below- left), nowadays. In the fifties, apart from the initial investment in the bike, basic running costs were the only expense involved. Helmets, for example, weren't compulsory and, when not bare-headed, I wore a balaclava or a flat cap. As it happens, I used helmets in the army; so, when I got the Thunderbird, I was persuaded to get a Stirling Moss version. Beyond that, an ordinary pair of wellington boots and a raincoat seemed perfectly adequate for protection from the elements; and, even when I rode from London to The Peak District on a regular basis, the only extra investment involved a pair of gauntlets, some goggles, and an ex-WD flying-suit (below centre - alongside a modern biker - to emphasise the difference).
In the meantime, from my own point of view, nearly sixty years elapsed before the notion of returning to two-wheeled travel occurred to me and much of that experience is outlined in this blog. One thing I haven't mentioned, however, is my surprise - and disappointment - at the reaction I've encountered from many - NO! I'll amend that to MOST - of the bikers I've met whilst visiting roadside eating-places with Trixie. Put simply, it seems that engaging in conversation with someone who rides a scooter is slightly less appealing than associating with an inhabitant of a leper colony.
Picture
Now, putting aside the fact that those with whom I take issue don't know anything about my motor-cycling background, I find their dismissive attitude rather strange; not least because it should be fairly obvious that Trixie is not 'your average' scooter.

For a start, she's a tricycle and, as a consequence, is larger than most motorbikes (see left). and, secondly, her engine capacity is 400cc. and (to the chagrin of many) is quite capable of keeping up with most bikers.

Furthermore, the added stability afforded by the extra wheel and the fact that the particular model I ride has an automatic gearbox and can be ridden using a car license is very attractive to anyone at my time of life. So, all in all, I find their condescending attitude rather pathetic.

Picture
Equally strange, although there are some who are intrigued and have come to ask me about the trike's characteristics, this has never happened when there are other bikers around. It's almost as though they would be kicked out of The Brownies if they were caught fraternizing with an alleged inferior being.

Most interesting, however, is the fact that, although I've observed this phobia being displayed by all sorts of bikers, it does seem that the worst affected are those who are predisposed towards riding a well-known American manufactured motorcycle and fond of posturing around transport cafes.


Paradoxically - and somewhat disturbingly - it has been suggested that, if I donned my open-faced helmet (see right), borrowed my son's leather jacket, allowed my moustache to become a little more luxuriant, gained several stones in weight, and adopted a rather more camp demeanour, I could be mistaken for one myself.

Heaven forbid!

n.b.
Harking back to the fifties and the days of Mods and Rockers, a friend has suggested that, since Trixie is part scooter and part tourer, I should be call myself a Mocker.






0 Comments

Trixie

29/7/2012

0 Comments

 
On Tuesday morning, for no reason which was obvious to me, I was struck with the thought that I really ought to pay a visit to my 91 year-old aunt in north Wales. Apart from being almost completely blind, her hearing isn't very good and keeping in touch by telephone hasn't been easy. Guilt may have played a part and the fact that it was the first fine day for a very long time might have influenced me - but, for whatever reason, I felt I had to go. So, it didn't take very long to check that there was a room available at a guest house my sister had recommended, throw a few things into a small bag, release Trixie from her lengthy hibernation in the garage, and head off north at around noon.
Picture
Four or five hours later, after starting off in glorious sunshine, the weather started to deteriorate and, having stripped down to shirt-sleeves for some of the afternoon, I put on my waterproofs. Fortunately, however, although I encountered an occasional light shower after crossing the border into Wales, most of my beloved Snowdonia was shrouded in varying degrees of mist (left). BTW, I use a photo of the lake in the background as a cover photo on my facebook -page - but from a different angle.

During the journey, I stopped a couple of times - to refuel, for example - or to ease the pressure on the base of my spine. Although Trixie has a well-padded seat, I don't; so, rather than being a pain in the backside, I was suffering from one. Something, I hadn't stopped for, however, was food. So, I stopped at Llanberis for a fish and chip supper before continuing on to the B & B and a welcome hot bath and a comfortable bed.

It had rained during the night and when I woke on Wednesday morning, I wished I had used the waterproof cover hidden in Trixie's seat. However, a dry towel did the job and, after breakfast - stopping to buy some custard creams on the way - I rode to the care-home; where my aunt seemed unusually pleased to see me.

Evidently - and this is quite "spooky" (as they say) - at almost exactly the same time as I had felt a strong urge to visit her, my aunt (usually a rather laid-back sort of person) had been feeling particularly 'down' - to the point where she had shed a few tears. Happily, having spent the morning chatting, she had perked-up when the time came for me to leave.

During our chat, my aunt had mentioned that 'our' local village school was celebrating its centenary; so, on an impulse, I called in and was lucky enough to be given a short conducted tour. A photograph album has been put together and, incredibly - bearing in mind I had only been a pupil for a few months during WW2 - I'm in one of them (next-but-one to the right-hand end of the top row - below centre).

(Click on photos to enlarge).

Although not as nice as it had been when I left the south of England, the weather had improved by the time I left the school. So, I decided to introduce Trixie to the first area my mother and I had moved to after our aforementioned evacuation. It holds a special place in my heart and I feel almost compelled to make a 'pilgrimage' about once a year.

Sadly, I don't think Trixie cared very much for a visit to such a remote location because riding along narrow lanes with grass down the middle (above - top left) was quite tricky. However, improvements to a former ford (above - top right) was appreciated.

From my point of view, however, I enjoyed the experience - not least, riding along the banks of Llyn Geirionydd (above - lower left)  which is quite close to the first house I can remember living in (above - lower right) and might explain my fondness for lakes.
Later, after enjoying a Welsh Rarebit in a cafe/guest house in Betws-y-Coed (where I boarded when it was requisitioned as a dormitory for an English school during WW2) I headed homeward - breaking the journey with an overnight stay at a pleasant roadside inn south of Shrewsbury - before continuing home on Thursday.


0 Comments

Trixie

16/1/2012

0 Comments

 

Having clocked-up the best part of three thousand miles since Trixie arrived ten months ago, my wife is now sufficiently confident in my riding skills to allow me to have a go on her scooter.

Picture

                                                       Happy days!
0 Comments

Trixie

12/1/2012

0 Comments

 

Who would have believed, having put my trike away for the winter in November, that I would be taking Trixie out for a spin as early as January? Furthermore, although I've commented on it in the past, it's also difficult to believe how much can be fitted into her assorted storage spaces. Here, for example (below) is what I had collected by the time we arrived back home........

Picture

The waterproofs and spare gloves and cap were already in the 'boot compartment'. However, I also managed to squeeze in a hundred grease balls (for the birds) and a dozen tins of food (for the feral cat) in the rest of the area under the seat. The biscuit stuff for the cat, the bread and milk for the rest of us, and about a hundred golf balls a friend had bought (for a quid!!) at a boot sale all fitted into the top box. Even then, there was a little bit of room remaining had I needed it.

Amazing space (as they say - or should that be sing?).


Picture
0 Comments
<<Previous

    Welcome:
    Please feel free to Comment.

    Categories:

    All
    Crafty
    Election
    Memory Lane
    Minterne
    Miscellaneous
    Rambling
    Sport
    Thoughts
    Trixie

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.