Chapter 12

L plates off for good.

Some six months after this when Danny finally passed his motorcycle test, at the second attempt, after which he quickly replaced his faithful little Tiger Cub, with a shining black and silver Triumph 500cc Tiger 100, he felt great as he could park the Tiger 100 outside any biker’s café, next to the Triumph 650 cc Bonnies and B.S.A Gold Stars, without feeling looked down upon as he did when riding only a little Tiger Cub.

Tom who was now 16 years old and had been working for almost 1 year as a welder for a local firm that made wheelbarrows, had by now saved enough money to acquire a sporty B.S.A. C.15 ss. 250cc. So after this, every night was a new adventure for them as they rode into Walsall to visit the Rocker cafés with exotic names like the Melba, New World, Davey Jones Locker or to visit a new venue called the Kavern, which was an underground cellar that had been converted into a café just for the Rockers and was run by some local volunteers.

One guy named ‘Kelly’ was always to be found behind the coffee bars counter. He would, although they did not know this at the time, have a profound effect on the future of many of these boys’ and girls’ lives, sharing their grief when one of them had died, invariably in some bike accident or sharing their joy at a wedding or the like. Some of the bikers were a little dubious of these helpers at first, but they turned out to be genuine people who did not try to change the biker’s lifestyle at all, indeed some of them joined the gang by buying a motorcycle themselves.

Around this time working in the car trade as Danny did, meant that sometimes there was lots of overtime so money was good, then other times as demand for new cars dipped, he would be on what was known as a short week, so money was scarce. When talking to Mazza one day about this, his friend after some thought suddenly asked him, “So why don’t you jack it in then, to come and run my bike business for me full time.”

Danny liked the idea at once and before he could mention money or the like Mazza followed this up with, “What do you earn on a good week, son?”

Danny never being slow where money was concerned answered, “Well on a good week £12.00, but on a poor week maybe £8.00.”

Mazza grinned before suggesting, “How about I give you £12.00 every week plus the share bonus that you already get working for me, would that be okay for you?”

Danny did not know what to say as he hugged his friend, but before he could speak Mazza grasped his hand. “You know how much I think of you, son, I always have. I trust you. But I now have other things that I want to try. So, I shall not be in the workshop as often. You, therefore, would in fact, be doing me a favour, plus there would be no income tax to pay, it all would be cash in hand.”

Danny looked into his friend’s eyes and spoke to him as not many others would dare to, by advising him what he should do. “I know something of your other business interests, Mazza, but be careful please. You are now married and have a great life, money, a nice car, so please don’t throw it all away. We can after all make even more money on the bikes with me working here every day.”

Mazza smiled and after looking around the workshop he answered his friend, “I am not stupid, son, but I want more than this.”

He then as if to make his point added, “I am a greedy bastard, I want the lot - a big house, a new Jag in the drive, all these things and soon, not when I am too old to enjoy them.”

Danny saw there was no telling his friend, so he just made the best of it. But now he could not help smiling to himself as he could not wait to give John Pugh the foreman at ‘Edward Rose Ltd’ his one week’s notice on the Monday morning.

Over the next few months Mazza’s other business was sometimes in evidence, like for instance one morning as Danny opened up, he was surprised to find that the workshop was full of fruit machines. Soon after this Mazza, his mate, Alf, plus two other guys arrived. Danny had seen the two guys around but did not know their names. After shutting and bolting the doors, they began to break the fruit machines open with a massive sledgehammer and a cold chisel. After a morning tea break the two men whom Mazza now introduced as Jonny Durex and Simple Simon were slow to start work again. On seeing this, Mazza with his usual tact called them the ‘the Wild and the Willing’, gave them both a swift kick up the arse as an indication that they should to get a move on. By dinner time all the broken machines had been taken away by the Wild and the Willing in the van, to, Danny presumed, be dumped somewhere while on the bench there was now hundreds of piles of both half a crown pieces and two bob bits.

When Danny ventured to ask how his friend was intending to change all these coins into paper money, his friend first looked at his watch and with a grin on his face said, “In just ten minutes you will see, my son.” Then pointing at the piles of money he added, “You will notice if you look closely that each pile contains £1.00 plus two extra coins making it £1. 2. 0 shillings.”

Danny nodded but still did not understand, as just then a knock on the workshop door made him jump.

Mazza pulled back the bolt and opened the door and after peering out to see who it was, he let in a scruffy looking man in his late forties with greasy, dark hair and a swarthy skin. His breath, when he came close to Danny made him gasp as the smell of garlic filled the room. He was wearing what to Danny looked like an ex-army greatcoat. Turning to Danny he introduced the man as Ricky the Greek, who he was informed, owned several slot machines arcades around the Midlands.

The man moved to the bench where he carefully counted each pile of coins before dropping them into a canvas bag that he carried, after which he handed Mazza a crisp £1 note for each pile.

Once he had left still looking just as furtive as when he had arrived, Mazza held over two hundred £1 notes in his hands. He winked at his friend then threw open the doors before announcing, ‘The place is all yours once more, son, so come on get busy.’

To which, laughing, Danny replied, “Mazza, fuck off.”

Once his friend had left Danny quickly opened the window to let out the remaining smell of garlic that still hung around in the air. Sometimes he wondered to himself just where his friend met some of these strange people.