Dec66
A gentlemanly pootler, these days
- Location
- West Wickham
Very nice indeed.
When I was 13 or 14, we were seriously on the bones of our arses. I had a "bike" (a Mk. 1 Raleigh Chopper, which my dear old dad had rescued from the tip, refurbed and repainted), but I'd grown out of that and the other lads had "racers" (one had a 5- speed Raleigh, another had something with 10 speeds, bronze coloured frame, forget what it was now).
I really, really wanted a "proper" bike. And one day, in the window of John Geddes's shop in Widnes, there it was; a Puch Free Spirit, in a pearlescent silver colour, not with 5 speeds, not with 10 speeds, but with 12. I think that inherent Top Trumps-style one-upmanship was part of the reason I wanted it so badly (apart from just loving to ride bikes).
The slight fly in the ointment was the asking price of just under £120. I might as well have been asking for a return trip to the moon. It was never going to happen.
I often think of how different my life would have been had I got that bike. I coveted it so much. Would I have won Le Tour in the era of Indurain, Delgado, Roche, Rominger, Millar et all? Would I have carved out a hard, and utterly humble, life as a lowly domestique on the continent? Or would I have had the bike nicked off me by some scallies up the road?
I'd love one now, for old times sake. Even though, I believe, it wasn't actually that good a bike.
When I was 13 or 14, we were seriously on the bones of our arses. I had a "bike" (a Mk. 1 Raleigh Chopper, which my dear old dad had rescued from the tip, refurbed and repainted), but I'd grown out of that and the other lads had "racers" (one had a 5- speed Raleigh, another had something with 10 speeds, bronze coloured frame, forget what it was now).
I really, really wanted a "proper" bike. And one day, in the window of John Geddes's shop in Widnes, there it was; a Puch Free Spirit, in a pearlescent silver colour, not with 5 speeds, not with 10 speeds, but with 12. I think that inherent Top Trumps-style one-upmanship was part of the reason I wanted it so badly (apart from just loving to ride bikes).
The slight fly in the ointment was the asking price of just under £120. I might as well have been asking for a return trip to the moon. It was never going to happen.
I often think of how different my life would have been had I got that bike. I coveted it so much. Would I have won Le Tour in the era of Indurain, Delgado, Roche, Rominger, Millar et all? Would I have carved out a hard, and utterly humble, life as a lowly domestique on the continent? Or would I have had the bike nicked off me by some scallies up the road?
I'd love one now, for old times sake. Even though, I believe, it wasn't actually that good a bike.
