Wolfie’s Bar
Skegness ’82 brings back many happy memories for one reader, but maybe not so many for one of his merry band!
Skegness is my favourite rally. It’s local, being only 100 miles from home, and the only one I regularly go to nowadays. In 1982 it was the closing rally of the season for us. Learning from the mistakes of our earlier rallies, we met in a car park rather than the pub, and left straight after work. Therefore we rode in daylight, and sober. We also all had enough money for a B&B, so no more sleeping rough. Being early also meant we had a crowd of locals watching us as we rode out, we were celebrities. A steady ride soon took us into Lincolnshire, mile after mile of flat fields full of cabbages... they must really like cabbages in Lincolnshire. Although we were still new to this scootering game we knew one thing – cables snap. So when Gordon’s cable snapped and he threw the broken ends into a cabbage field we all felt his frustration, and were not concerned because we all had a supply of cables ready for just such an event. But nobody had a supply of solderless nipples.
What the passing motorists must have thought as they drove by a dozen or so scooters parked at the side of the road with the parka-clad riders bobbing up and down in a cabbage field, like chickens in a farmyard, I do not know. Of course we didn’t find it. Did you know that you can control a scooter by leading the throttle cable from the carburettor through the petrol tap hole and pulling it with the right hand to accelerate and releasing it to slow down? Not easy, I’m sure, but it can be done; I’ve seen it.
And on the subject of cables, when you have a scooter that can be started with a flat-bladed screwdriver, like mine, then alternative security is a must. Eddie had the perfect solution; he wired the gear-cables the wrong way around, so that first was fourth and vice versa. Anyone trying to pinch it would put it in fourth, thinking they were putting it in first, and it would stall. Simple but brilliant. My method was to have a scooter that was so tatty no one would want to steal it, and that worked too.
When we arrived at Skegness we split up into small groups to find a bed for the weekend, with a promise to meet later in Wolfie’s Wine Bar. Our group found a B&B which rather grandly referred to itself as a hotel. They had shut for the season the day before and the landlady, in opening up, acted as if she was doing us a great favour. Her husband was not happy as he had to pack up his brand new Atari. Do you have an auntie that thinks she’s better than everyone else, with a sullen husband who says nothing but growls? This was like stopping with them. Why do people like that want to run a boarding house?
Once settled at the ‘hotel’, we made our way to Wolfie’s Bar. Without any prior agreement, we found we’d all walked there, except Eddie who chose to ride. We spent a very pleasant evening watching scooters ride up and down the promenade and many policemen, way too many for a normal Friday night, march up and down, looking hatchet faced and ready for a riot. As closing time approached it was becoming evident that Eddie was really struggling. To help we got him reciting “I’m alright officer, I’ve only had two pints” in case he should bump into the police. As plans go it wasn’t the best but it was all our beer-fuddled brains could come up with. When we left we saw two policemen standing at a zebra crossing, waiting to cross the road. With immense confidence, but an incredible lack of judgment, Eddie walked up to the policemen, grabbed hold of the lamppost to stop himself falling over, said: “I’m alright ossifer, I’ve only had a couple” and then gently slid down the lamp-post, to land in a heap at their feet. The policemen looked at Eddie, then at each other, then at Eddie again before looking at us and saying: “Get him on his bike and out of here before we do you all for being drunk and disorderly,” a request that even we thought ridiculous! I’d like to say that we kindly walked him and his scooter back to his boarding house… but it is more likely that we just abandoned him there on the floor.
Saturday was the usual ride up and down the promenade, letting everybody see us. Not the best idea as everyone else seemed to be doing the same, so there was nobody left to do the viewing. On one circuit we pulled up on to a car park next to the hotel where we were staying when a large police bike pulled in after us. “You went across a zebra crossing when someone was on it,” he said. “Who did?” we asked knowing no one had done so. “You,” he said, pointing at me, obviously at random. It was almost worth the endorsement because, while he was writing out the ticket, I could see Nobby turning off the petrol tap on his bike. The thought of Robocop running out of petrol as he rode along Skegness High Street trying to look cool has kept us amused on many a quiet winter’s night. A quiet ride home on Sunday brought that rally, and the season, to a close. Time to start planning for next year.
Eddie walked up to the policemen, grabbed hold of the lamp-post to stop himself falling over, said “I’m alright ossifer, I’ve only had a couple” and then gently slid down the lamp-post, to land in a heap at their feet