Chapter 11

April. 1963.

Mazza opened the rear doors of his old Morris J2 van and after wheeling the little Tiger Cub out into the bright Spring sunshine, he turned to Danny before asking, “Will this one be okay for you, son?”

Danny quickly sat astride the little silver Triumph rubbing his hands over its shiny petrol tank before he answered his friend, “I love it, Mazza. £20.00 is that all it is, honestly?”

“I can make it £40.00 if you like,” Mazza quipped.

Danny grinned knowing his friend was joking, but also knowing that he could have sold it for that amount to anyone. From that moment onwards, Danny’s life would never be the same. All his life he had struggled to be the same or as good as his friends at running or riding a cycle, but his small size combined with his weak left leg had prevented this. But now he could compete on the same level, indeed being lighter sometimes on a motorcycle this gave him an advantage over bigger heavier guys.

Later that day Sean came around to look at the Tiger Cub, after which he commented that it was okay, but he thought it very small compared to his B.S.A. 250cc. But he did not look so happy when Mazza pointed out the fact that although it was smaller it was much faster.

True to his word from the first day that he rode it, Danny had his cousin on the back as a pillion, the L plates taken off as soon as he was around the corner, well away from his aunt’s prying eyes. At night times they now regularly ventured into Walsall town centre, where they discovered a late-night café called ‘The New World,’ that was used exclusively by motorcycle boys known as Rockers. Here they would park their little bikes with those displaying L plates well at the back of the row of big bikes that stood outside. The three boys would then stand and admire these, pointing out which ones they hoped they would have once they had passed the dreaded motorcycle driving test.

Sean favoured the big red B.S.A. Rockets while Danny liked the sporty Triumph Tiger 100s. Inside the café they would listen to older guys talking of doing the ton or racing around the town to a record. After a while they too became an accepted part of this gang, consisting of lads and girls from all around the little Black Country town. Most of them had nick names like the Rabbi or Blackie, Jonah, Jammy and Shaky to name but a few.

The undisputed leader at this time of this crowd of rockers from the ‘New World’ was a guy called Alex who rode a beautiful 500cc B.S.A. Gold Star. This was a very fast bike but not the easiest bike to ride, in town you had to slip the clutch almost constantly to get any sort of performance out of them, but on motorways they were almost unbeatable.

So, at holiday times it was Alex and members of his close crew like Mel Harris and Codger who decided which town they would visit for their holiday destination. They would then take off in one big crowd to go camping to places like Rhyl or Barmouth. There they would drink and sometimes cause mayhem to the local people and holiday makers alike. Very often a rival group of young people came on the scene. These were called Mod’s and they rode Vespa or Lambretta scooters. These were supposed to be the Rockers’ deadly enemies, but mostly it was just friendly banter between them.

Over the next three years Danny and his gang of friends had many adventures, sadly this also included going to more than one gang member’s funeral.

Bridgenorth became a favourite destination for a ride on a summer night. On one such night the three of them, Sean on his B.S.A. 250 and Danny on his Tiger Cub with his cousin Tom as pillion set off for Bridgenorth. The only snag on this night was the fact that on route, they had to stop to let a basket full of pigeons loose, this was because Sean’s old man raced pigeons, so as a rare favour to him Sean agreed he would do this. Because Danny did not know exactly where Sean was to let these off, they had to follow behind him. As the wind blew through the pigeon basket that was strapped to Sean’s rear seat, lots of bird’s feathers and bits of straw blew back into Danny and Tom’s faces. These stuck in their noses and into the sides of their helmets, making it a nightmare riding behind.

To round the night off on the way home after making it to Bridgenorth without any further incidents it had begun to rain. This was no big deal, but Sean being what was known as a tight wad, had on his bike an almost bald front tyre. Danny had warned him time after time to change it, but Sean always reluctant to spend money insisted that it was fine.

As the rain now fell in a deluge, they suddenly came to a sharp bend on a downhill stretch of road. Trees overhung this bend where the fallen leaves were scattered across its surface.

Sean’s front tyre hit one of these which caused it to slide. He tried in vain to correct this, but to no avail as he then parted company with his bike and slid along the road. Meanwhile Danny seeing what had happened to his friend tried to avoid running him over, but in attempting this both Danny and Tom also became unseated as the two motorcycles now slid in one direction while the boys slid in another. At one point Tom sliding along on his back, caught his heel on a ridge in the road, which forced him up on to his feet, but as he was still travelling at some speed he had no option but to try to keep running in order to stay upright. This he succeeded in doing, but as he passed Danny and Sean who although in somewhat of a predicament themselves, could not help but laugh at the sight of their friend running full pelt down the hill while trying to avoid falling.

Finally, after finding that the only thing that was injured was their pride, they righted their motorcycles and after checking they were intact, they made their way sedately home. The only other injury they had sustained apart from their pride was some friction burns to their arses and the name Avon Tyres in red was imprinted on Danny’s face, where he had connected while sliding with the spinning rear tyre of Sean’s motorcycle.

One other incident Danny remembered was one Easter when they were all camping in the North Wales resort of Rhyl. The Rockers all used a pub on the sea front called the ‘Schooner’. One night Danny was with a friend from the Walsall gang known as ‘Jonah’, who was the tallest guy in the gang whereas Danny was the smallest and although they were not best friends they always had got on well together, taking the friendly banter that often came their way with a smile. Some people on seeing them next to each other often would call out, here comes the long and the short of it.

On this night all their friends had for some reason left the pub early, leaving the two of them bored with nothing much to do, so Jonah suggested they take a ride along the coast to look at the next town. This they did and on reaching it found a pub situated on a road full of holiday camps.

As they entered the pub in their leather jackets Jonah at 6ft 4 inches and Danny at 5ft, they must indeed have looked a strange combination. Once inside they saw a few men older than themselves were stood drinking at the bar, and, as was expected soon the comments came across the room thick and fast. “Watch out lads, the Rockers are here, tell me is the little one a ventriloquist’s dummy?”

This comment was followed by lots of laughter.

Suddenly two women who it turned out were with two of the piss takers came over and sat next to the boys. They then surprised them by answering the men, “Why don’t you leave these nice boys alone, you, ignorant pair of shits?”

After a while the men carried on talking and left the boys alone. The women were in their late twenties and quite good looking. They started to chat to the boys about where they were from. After a while one of the women suddenly winked at Jonah before then calling out to her bloke, “George, we are going back to the caravan, so are you and Les coming and if not, are you going to be long?”

His reply was, “I am staying here with my friends for a drink.”

Then turning to the other women’s bloke, he asked, “What about you Les”?

Les also answered in the same tone with, “I have just bought a pint, so I am fucking staying here.”

Shortly after this both women up and left, the same one gave Jonah a sly wink as she did so.

As soon as the women had left the bar Jonah nudged Danny and whispered, “Drink up, son, we are leaving.”

This they did followed by more cat calls from the guys at the bar. Once outside they both started up their bikes after which Jonah indicated to his friend to follow him. After slowly riding for about one hundred yards suddenly the two women stepped out from behind a building onto the road. As the bikes drew to a halt, they each without being asked jumped on the pillion seat and pointed the way to their caravan.

Once inside the caravan Jonah was quick off the mark as one of the women led him off into the bedroom. This left Danny somewhat ill at ease with the other woman. She however soon put his mind at rest by pulling him on to the settee, then much to his relief she said that they could only have a snog and a fondle as it was her wrong time of the month.

After an enjoyable hour, Danny’s immediate thoughts were of when the two men would be returning from the pub. So, when his friend eventually returned from the bedroom announcing that they would have to leave, he did not argue. Then after a quick kiss they once more rode off on their motorcycles.

They now had to pass the same pub, where they noticed the gang of men were now in the process of drunkenly staggering out. Jonah slowed up his bike and after revving his engine to get their attention he called out, “Good night lads. Sorry we could not stop for supper, but we have at least warmed the beds for you.”

Danny and Jonah both rode off laughing, followed by much cursing and swearing.