Into The Sunset
Another crazy scooter story from the past.
The year was 1969 and after living in London all of my life I was about to start a big adventure with my wife… in deepest darkest Kent. I now had three things in my life that I deeply loved – my new wife Jen, my new daughter Sharon and my beloved Vespa GS160, which was dark blue with yellow flashes on the side panels, but not necessarily in that order. As part of the ‘big move’ we were going to live with my sister in law for a few months, just until we sorted ourselves out, in a little village outside of Ashford called Smeeth.
The day of the move came and Jen, having prematurely given birth to our daughter just two weeks previous, decided to take the train to Ashford. As for me, well there was no way that I was leaving the GS behind… so kitted up with my parka, open face helmet, college scarf and woollen gloves I sat astride the mighty Vespa! I saw my wife aboard the train and then set off for Ashford. It only looked a few small inches on the map, so it would surely only take an hour to get there? Map reading skills aside, what I also did not bank on was snow. Oh yes, snow in spades! It transpired that near blizzard conditions were whiting out parts of Kent, but I was undaunted. I was away… heading towards my new life.
Out of London and heading south, the snow started to get heavy and I thought the train might have been the better option, but with the two-stroke singing nicely I pressed on through Swanley and into the wilderness. After a while on the road my hands, then face and finally my legs had gone from cold to hot then back to cold and were now numb. Really numb.
Cruising along at a steady speed I was then passed by a bright red bubble car. ‘No way!’ I said to myself, that is not happening! So I cracked the throttle open and breezed back past the oddly shaped vehicle, while giving the driver a customary stare. He looked warm I thought to myself, but I look cool… quite literally. A few miles up the road it happened again, damn that bubble car! A bit more twist of the right hand and I was away and passed him again, the silly bubble was no match for my mighty GS. How wrong I was. Once again it came past me. That was the final insult, and with the throttle now wide open and the cold snow lashing my face, my Vespa took me past the Isetta one last time.
After an hour or so of riding I then realised that the race with the bubble car had somewhat distracted me, and I became aware that I had no idea where I was! The thought started to enter my head that during the race with the bubble car I must have missed the turning to Ashford. Oh god, I thought, I must be on my way to Devon. Jen is going to kill me! How am I going to explain this one? We had agreed to meet at Ashford train station and I am nearly in Devon. My attention was soon taken by the extreme cold and the fact that I was now numb and unable to move, I started crying… then laughing… then went back to crying. When I then saw a sign for Ashford a feeling of elation came over me, I hadn’t missed it! I had made it, slightly delirious… but I had made it!
My trusty steed had not missed a beat, we had braved the elements, extreme cold and the best the bubble car could throw at us. After riding round the small market town I eventually found the train station and my wife waiting for me. As I pulled up I shouted: “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!” My body was in extreme pain due to the cold and I was frozen solid to my scooter. After spending some time in the train station, which allowed me to thaw out, I fired the scooter up and with Jen on the back we made or way to the small village of Smeeth, which was only a few miles away, and our final destination.
Entering Smeeth I was so proud of my GS. It had looked after me on my epic journey and not missed a beat. Then, just as I touched the front brake, down we went, the two of us and the Vespa skidding down Smeeth high street. Due to the low speed, there was no damage done to body or metal and the last few feet of the journey was made on foot.
I loved my GS 160, and over the next few years it was absolutely bulletproof, making various journeys to and from Ashford and London. It only caused me problems on two occasions: one when a petrol leak rotted the rear tyre causing a puncture, and another time when the police knocked on my door wanting to know if I had an alibi for a certain day when my scooter had been doing something it should not have! Yes, I did have an alibi… that was my wedding day, I then realised why my brother John who was to be my best man had not shown up; he had liberated my Vespa and the two were getting up to no good. Good times.
My attention was soon taken by the extreme cold and the fact that I was now numb and unable to move. I started crying… then laughing… then went back to crying.