The Marigold man

Resourcefulness is a great attribute to have, but sometimes... it can be taken just that bit too far!

For many of us, just keeping a scooter on the road back in the 1980s was a daily task. It didn’t matter whether it was a Lambretta or Vespa, both would need regular maintenance and attention. With shops sparsely located and no internet to give you answers, it was survival of the fittest just to keep the things going. With the lack of instant spares availability, it often meant taking things into your own hands. Both resourcefulness and ingenuity were often required, not only to make the right decision but also how to solve a problem.

While that was fine for most it could be a lethal weapon for others when it came to scooter maintenance. Local to us was a lad known as Pauly and though he was an enthusiastic scooter rider his mechanical skills were, shall we say, not the best. Even so, he would give it a go when it came to maintenance, even if it often ended in turmoil. The first signs that this was the case came about when he called for help one day. Having purchased a Lambretta for 75 quid, the owner assured him it had been a decent runner for many years. Who should doubt him? Anyway Pauly had driven home and took it for quite a journey in doing so. However, it now wouldn’t start, no matter how many times the engine was turned over – not even the remotest hint of firing.

Having got round there, trying several times furiously to kick-start it with no joy, the usual spark plug check was always the first port of call. Maybe it was furred up with coke or covered in oil and judging by its age there was every chance it was. With the plug out, something rather bizarre and strange instantly stood out, something I don’t think in the history of scooters, or spark plugs for that matter, had ever been seen before. The outer electrode, rather than curving round to gap closer to the centre electrode, was straight in line with the body of the plug. What the hell had happened to it was anybody’s guess until Pauly piped up and confessed.

Having got a new scooter, he was as keen as mustard to look after it. Taking the spark plug out to give it a clean, he explained that he had noticed a piece of bent wire on the end. Thinking this was wrong, and without hesitation... he had straightened it out! No wonder it wouldn't fire – how could it, with a gap about a mile wide? With a pair of pliers the electrode was bent back into position and of course, the engine fired up the first time. Pauly was looking rather pleased but sheepish. On one hand, his pride and joy was now back up and running but on the other, it showed he was dangerous when it came to mechanics and maintenance.

Taking the spark plug out to give it a clean he explained that he had noticed a piece of bent wire on the end. Thinking this was wrong, and without hesitation... he had straightened it out!

From now on, any time he had a problem, rather than try to fix it himself he would ring up and ask for assistance. That was fine and most in the club would chip in, showing him what to do. I don’t think anyone wanted a repeat of the spark plug episode. For a while things were fine and both Pauly and his Lambretta would attend the weekly club meet down the local pub. There were odd signs that things could turn in an instant like wearing yellow washing-up gloves on his hands instead of traditional ones for instance. We had become accustomed to his quirky ways though and while the scooter was running and the phone not ringing, what was there to worry about?

Then one day it happened – the phone did ring. On his way home from work the night before he had run out of petrol which was fair enough – we’ve all done it at one time or another. Rather than push it the last two miles home he had abandoned it in a hedge and walked back. Two of us picked him up with a can of fuel and returned back to the scene, soon to be one of a crime. With the petrol cap removed it was noticeable there was some sort of liquid in there which seemed rather strange as supposedly the tank was empty. Quickly Pauly went into that sheepish mode again so immediately the question was asked as to what was actually in there. The reply was oil, with the comment that scooters run on it, don’t they? In a way, they do but mixed with petrol – no engine runs on neat oil.

It needed to be drained first and, with the fuel pipe removed, out came this strange, thinly coloured gold liquid. A quick search of the toolbox showed it to be Mazola chip frying oil. Trying not to laugh, but at the same time dumbfounded, we listened to the explanation. At the last fill-up the petrol station had no two-stroke oil left. Worried, Pauly had bought the cooking oil at the local Spar shop, presuming it would do the same thing. Even more alarming was a tub of Flora margarine also residing in the toolbox. The explanation for that was the need for grease to lubricate the cables.

It was at this point we had to take him to one side for a bit of a chat. All parties were soon in agreement that the Lambretta with its high-maintenance schedule was not for him. Soon enough it was traded in for a less demanding machine in the shape of a newish Vespa. He was banned from any type of maintenance now and forever, with all the club members vowing to help him any time there was a problem. He did keep the yellow washing-up gloves though and from then on would always be known as the Marigold man.