At the age of 8, my first proper bike arrived. My father proudly took me down to a shop in the lower high street (if my memory is correct nearly opposite Ingram Street) where a Raleigh was wheeled out.
Little did I know then that this bike was to open up a whole new world of adventures and exploration?
By coincidence, my mates also seemed to have bikes that Christmas, so that summer and the next 2 until I moved to Southend on Sea we rode everywhere.
As all parents will know, when kids are out, time suddenly has no meaning. This certainly applied to us the first day we went out on the bikes. With a jaunty 'see you later' we decided to ride to my Aunts place in Easton Grey. Unfortunately they were out, so – rather than ride directly back, we decided to ride through the village and head towards Foxley because we knew the Foxley Road would take us home.
For whatever reason, we took a wrong turning and ended up going towards Hullavington. For those of you who know the area, this ended up as an epic bike ride. What makes it even more memorable (apart from being tired and hungry) was that along the way, we were so thirsty; we stopped at a cottage and asked for a drink of water. A lovely old chap and his wife took us in and gave us a drink. To this day I can remember never enjoying a drink so much, listening to the sound of Wilfred Pickles on their radio.
One great thrill was to ride periodically to Kemble and sit on the wall watching the fighter aircraft (Hawker Hunters) taxi past and I think almost every pilot waved at us. It was a thrill to also watch them take off and land since at each end of the runway it dipped into a valley so the aircraft appeared to drop down below the trees.
While out Kemble way, we rode a couple of miles past the RAF Station to the field, where the Thames is reputed to start from a spring bubbling up. We though it was great that we could dam up the Thames!
We also used to ride to Hullavington in the hope of seeing some activity, but I don't think we ever did see anything interesting.
Another thrill was to go down to the railway station and sweet talk the old guard (who I remember was a lovely but gruff old boy) to let us put our bikes in the guard's van so that we could hitch a lift to Little Somerford, from where we biked back. Of course this was strictly not allowed, but I don't think we were the only kids who did this?
What a thrill it was to be in the guard's van having a cup of tea from an old tin mug of dubious origin watching the countryside pass by seeing it from a completely new perspective.
While at Little Somerford on the first occasion, we went up into the Signal Box and the signalman told us all about the workings of the signals and the levers. I know we stayed there for what seemed like ages and during the time we were there I remember the Pullman service steaming through at high speed with its distinctive blue livery.
We repeated this trip a few times but we never managed to hitch a ride onwards from Somerford to Swindon. (Now that would have been a bike ride!)
Our longest bike ride as a real adventure. One fine summers day, having planned the route carefully, we set off (sandwiches carefully packed) to ride to Hawkesbury Monument.
Looking back, I think we did a good impersonation of the Tour De France riders. We certainly underestimated how far it was and when we got there, we were so knackered we could only lie down eat our sandwiches and admire the view, which I remember was magnificent. Of course we then had to ride back. I think we slept long and well that night.
In addition to these long rides, of course we explored probably every little back road and lane for 5 miles around Malmesbury Of course there was much less traffic around then, but we never felt intimidated by traffic and of course everybody drove slower than they do today.
Part One
