Winding the clock back here – with H away putting her two wee grand daughters on the plane to Japan my empty head swings to motorbikes. Little motorbikes. Back in the late sixties – early seventies I lived at Siavonga on the shores of Lake Kariba with my friends Jack and Beryl Canty —
Now Jack was a big burly fella with a crewcut – shorts n flipflops while Beryl was a wee slim thing who lived in her swimsuit – easily done in such a balmy climate where life revolved around the swimming pool. Honda Monkey bikes were in their infancy back then and my abiding memory of Jack was of him riding his tiny 50cc Monkey Bike around his property out on the peninsula —
There she is – the little 50cc fourstroke. I’ve no idea how Jack got it to Central Africa – no doubt the crate was labelled motor spares or machine parts but he managed it.
One thing I spot right away is the comfy seat for there is no such thing fitted to my modern 125cc version —
A flat plank of timber would be just as comfortable – but – with less than ten miles of road on the island and the ferry just a long mile away she might just be the wee beastie I need around here —
Time will tell — hell I reckon I could reach Oban from here on this lil beautie —
Initially I had my concerns about the two n half litre fuel tank —
but that was before she clocked up her first 100 miles without the need for a top-up —
Oban is only sixteen miles from my new home and unlike the A75 – where convoys of high speed Belfast bound McBurney lorries terrorise everything in their way – with a few exceptions the traffic around here is quite accomodating and the wee 125cc Honda has slightly more oomph than Jack’s 50cc Monkey Bike from days of yore 🙂
from-a-distance 