THEN AND NOW
“If I see you kids riding your motorbikes on the road, I’ll book ya,” the local sergeant growled at us. “Now push your bikes down the road and get over in the common and ride there. And don’t kill yourselves.” It was the 1960s and life was motorbikes, footy, cricket, girls and school, pretty much in that order. We were just sitting on them, honest! Half a dozen early teenage boys gathered on a street corner with their pride and joys taking the piss out of each other’s choice. Jap crap, oil burners, old dunger. Beezas, Trumpies, and even a sloper Panther modified for the bush. We were the kings of our patch.
We all dutifully dismounted and walked beside the bikes until the Divvy van disappeared.
