Six short tales from across the years
Mon, March 8, 2021 1.) As a child during the 1940s I lived in a house in England with no electricity and no water piped into the house. Water was brought in by bucket from a communal well outside. Lighting was by oil lamp and candles. My mother cooked with a coal fired range and baked wonderful pies and cakes. She did so without a thermometer on the oven.
She ironed with a flat iron also heated on the stovetop. She would spit on the iron to test the temperature, the spit would boil and run off immediately if it was hot enough. She had a pair of flat irons, one would be heating while she ironed with the other for a minute or so before it cooled.
2. It was early 1946 in England; WWII had been over less than a year. I was ten years old. King George VI, father of Queen Elizabeth was coming through our town on his way somewhere else. In the days leading up to this event, we made paper flags at school
Whether real flags were not available, or the school was too cheap to buy us flags, I don’t know. But we each drew and colored a British flag on both sides of a piece of paper and then glued it to a stick.
The day finally came, and we all lined up at the roadside. We waited, and we waited, freezing our little asses off, for at least an hour. Finally, here came the motorcade, passing through at about 45 mph. We all started cheering and waiving our little paper flags.
Someone shouted, “There he is” and pointed. I think I saw King George VI that day, I can’t be certain, but I think I did.
3.) As an eighteen-year-old in 1954, walking home in the early hours of a Sunday morning, after a Saturday night out, when an older drunk man, probably in his forties, tried to pick a fight with me. He took a swing at me but missed and fell over. I carried on walking home but heard a tremendous crash as he had fallen backward through the plate glass window of a television shop. The noise was deafening as the sound amplified through the empty streets. The last I saw of the drunk, he was lying on his back amongst the TV sets, with his legs in the air.
I took off running, and was chased by two American Military Police, in a Jeep. They pulled alongside me, and when they saw I was not an American Serviceman, they stopped and gave up the chase. I made it home without further incident. Later the local newspaper told the story of a broken store window mystery, and that nothing was stolen. There was no mention of the drunk guy. I guess he was not seriously hurt and had left the scene.
There was a large American Air Force Base, near where I lived. The Military Police would patrol the streets but had no jurisdiction over civilians. We called them "Snow Drops" because they wore white helmets, reminding us of a British wild flower that has white bell shaped petals and is called a Snow Drop.
4.) In 1968 (Age 32.) I saw Jimi Hendrix play in Nottingham, England, At the time he was still relatively unknown in America. The show was in a small venue and was the loudest concert I have ever been to. He had Marshall speakers stacked floor to ceiling. I stood at the back of the room and the sound was actually pushing my chest in. I don’t believe it was by chance his band was called “The Jimi Hendrix Experience.”
5.) In the mid 1980s the owner of a bike store in Denver asked me if I would make an exception for a very special customer and personally measure him for a custom frame. The customer was the manager of the Denver Broncos football team. (I don’t recall his name.) The team was coming to San Diego to play the Chargers and after the game he would drive up to see me.
The outcome was, the Chargers beat the Broncos, and the team and the manager took an early flight home. (Obviously, sore losers.) I never did get to measure him or build him a frame. Had I done so I would probably remember his name.
6.) In the late 1980s I was approached by Fila, the sports clothing company. They were interested in a line of bicycles with the Fila name on them. Two people from the company came to my shop to look at my operation, and we talked about my building these frames. They must have dropped the idea, I never heard back, and I don't recall anyone else making a Fila bike.
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Reader Comments (4)
Great stories. On #5: I lived in Denver in the 1980s. The bike store must have been The Denver Spoke, which sponsored a well-known cycling team. The coach of the Broncos was Dan Reeves, who I doubt ever rode a bike in his life. But the owner of the Broncos was Pat Bowlen, and he was well-known as an avid cyclist and triathlete. I'd guess he was the one interested in a bike from you.
I love those old stories Dave, especially from when you grew up in England. I'm about 5 years younger than you and we were refugees in England from 1948 to 1956 before coming to Canada. I got into club cycling through friends in grammar school. We lived in a basement apartment in London with coal fireplaces, a lead pipe with many repairs bringing in water through the coal cellar and had to put coins in meters for gas and electricity. My brother and I would take a hot water bottle to bed in the winter and had to light a gas heater when getting up in the morning before our mother started the fireplace.
Thanks.....My cycling mentor was also born in 1936. He was born in Canada, so he had a much easier time of it, growing up. He finally gave up riding two years ago after falling off an indoor trainer and breaking his hip. He was in the 1956 Olympics, and raced pro in Italy, in the late 50's.
I appreciate reading these stories, Dave. My mother is a few years younger than you and told a story of being in a library when it was bombed by the Germans during their campaign on Great Britain in WWII. Other than that story and that my grandfather was gassed by the Germans in WWI, I have heard next to nothing about their experiences. Your stories add some detail to the images I have of what their lives may have been like during those times. Thank you.