Dumpy's Rusty Nuts, 1985
So it's a Saturday night and me and my mate, spotty 15 year olds, are kicking up our heels in a house in the suburbs miles from anything interesting. Dumpy's Rusty Nuts are playing down in the Rock Gardens in Southsea. We have seen this band before and had a totally mental time but being 15 and spotty, we lack transportation and our usual lifts are unavailable. The clock ticks, the clock tocks, time drags on.

Eyes turn to my Mum's Honda C70. A quick calculation shows that we should be able to get down to Southsea (approx 13 miles), enjoy most of the band and have the bike back before my Mum gets home from work. A plan is thusly born. I dig out the helmet I bought in anticipation of my 16th and my mate blags my mum's helmet (with the sparkly butterfly stickers). The rear tyre is a bit soft (my Mum mentioned something about a leak) but a quick bit of footpump action and it's good enough. So off we set, two blokes in leather jackets and cutoffs covered in band patches, one with a sparkly butterfly helmet, on a 70cc motorcycle with a top speed somewhere south of 50mph

The actual journey down itself is fairly uneventful other than being particularly pleasant on a warm evening. Rolling down to the seafront, the tyre is now distinctly flat. We enter and meet up with friends, enjoy a fantastic gig (the music is loud and the band and crowd really going for it) and ask anyone we meet if they can lend us a footpump.

Time eventually runs out (though we push it a bit) and it's time to go. Still no footpump and the only thing the tyre contains is wishful thinking. With not many other options, we decide to hop on, drive carefully and try and find a petrol station with a pump.

Somewhere up around the Tricorn, the bike decides its had enough and spits the inner tube out of the rear wheel which then proceeds to wrap itelf around the chain in new and intriguing ways. Ways that are not going to be amenable to roadside wrenching. The games up. But the before the game is over, there must be the endgame.

All that's left now is to call my folks and face the music. Problem. We have no change for the phone. Luckily, there's a nice car with blue lights on top parked just over there. So two unlicensed, uninsured 15 year olds go over and ask the nice police lady for some change. Fortunately, she fails to notice the quivering legs, and change is duly obtained, parents called and a shame-faced recovery takes place.

Got off surprisingly lightly on that one. I was banned from riding for a year (to take effect once I got to the age) but was given the use of a moped when I did finally get there (apparently on the theory that I would have got in more trouble if the ban actually was applied or maybe the parents just wanted me out of the house :) ), my Mum enjoyed trotting out the story whenever we were out with company and to top it all the gig was totally worth the hassle.

Edit: Oh, turns out there was a petrol station with a pump 20 yards around the corner from where the tyre came off.
Edit2: Linky for some of the music: www.youtube.com/watch?v=9tKO3m_M4dQ
(Richy_T hundreds if not thousands of dollars, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 21:38, 1 reply)

I saw Dumpy
supporting Hawkwind about two years ago - the bloke is a fucking legend.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 9:29, closed)