A weekend or so back we had a few drinks
and nibbles out the back with assorted
members of the family. My lad, now 28, once
rode it around a rural field way back when
he was about six and his skills at that tender
age were impressive. He had no fear of the
speed he was getting out of it and we were
accordingly terrified.
As we were at the recent family get-together
when he decided to have another lash on it…
the first time since his dash as a little boy…
and yep, still no trepidation with pace. The
bastard left torn tracks through the lawn
and one of his cornering manoeuvres up the
driveway was a heart-stopper.
“Still goes good, eh!” was his simple
summation.
And then, as this remarkable little Pee Wee
has done since about 1986, it drew the
generations together. Back then my late
mum, who was in her late 60s, actually took it
for a blast along the seafront grass opposite
her digs… first time ever on a motorcycle and
she was grinning madly after a quite polished
ride. The three or four brandies may have
helped.
And so, a fortnight or so ago, it came to pass
that one of my granddaughters, Saffron,
wanted to try and ride it. She’s 10. Her mum
had ridden it, up on the beachfront, at about
that age so she said yeah, have a shot. So
I ran her through the caution of using the
throttle gently, and which lever operated
which brake, and how to coordinate them.
Off she went… and after three cautious
laps of the clothesline the grin was well
entrenched on her face. Okay, so the braking
was a bit iffy to start with, but she got the
picture.
Her parting words when they all shot
through later in the day were that she
couldn’t wait to come and ride Pee Wee
again.
Ahh... it must be in the blood.