My Secret Scooter
I bought it from some little herbert at the youth club for £5. A 1960 Lambretta LI, cream and rust, no papers, no key, no side panels, no tax, MOT or insurance. (but that was ok I didn't intend to use it on public roads). I kept it hidden under a bush on a patch of wasteland off the A40 near Gypsy Corner.
Most days after school, I'd drag it out and rag it all over the course of my own personal off road track, careful not to spend too long putting, burbling and popping in case of being seen and caught. It was heaven and it took every ounce of willpower not to take it out on the road and give it some beans. Anyhow, having got my daily adrenalin boost, I would throw it back into the undergrowth, cover it over with branches and run home to get ready to go to my evening job of selling the News & Standard on the corner of Baker St and Marylebone Rd to tired commuters after a hard day's work.
Even now, if I smell two-stroke, it takes me straight back to the secret scooter, my heart beats a little bit faster and I smile.
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