Touching The Ton

[toddyboy]

I was there... well 3 or 4 miles away then! I rode those roads. Don't remember you. More please.

Think hard Rob. It was 1954. A long long time ago in a cafe far away .............

 

Chapter 3

 

Cops! That’s all I needed. I immediately jumped up off my chair and hotfooted it outside.  A black Humber with a big blue light on the top was parked next to my bike and one of them was shining a torch on the back of it. There were two of them.The other one, a big burly guy with a beard was scrutinizing the engine. Then I realized what they were interested in – the bloody number plate! It was of course yellow with black lettering. All the plates on the other bikes had black backgrounds with white or silver lettering. Obviously the one on my bike wouldn’t make sense to them.

 

The copper with the torch shone it in my face as I approached him. “Evening officers. Can I help you?” I asked holding my hand up in front of my face to shield my eyes from the glare.

 

“This your bike son?” the bigger one asked.

 

“It is yeah. Is there a problem?” I replied.

 

“Strange registration plate,” he said.

 

I was stumped. I had to think quick. “Oh, er, it’s a Gibralter plate,” I lied.” My heart was pumping fast now. I knew that cops of this era didn’t have the technical backup from my day. No DVLA computers, mobile phones or anything like that. It was the only thing I could think of at that very moment.

 

The big bearded cop looked over at his partner who raised his eyebrows and shrugged as if to say ‘aint got a clue.’

 

“Gibraltar eh! Long way from home aren’t you sonny?” he probed. He was one of those seasoned cops, with a perpetual air of suspicion. “Odd looking bike too. Never seen one of these around have you Pete”? he asked his mate.

 

His partner Pete just nodded obliquely. He obviously had no knowledge of what a Gibraltar number plate looked like and also didn’t appear too interested in bikes at all. I was hoping Officer big beard was going to be of the same inclination but unfortunately he wasn’t. “Got any documentation on you son?” he asked.

 

Oh shit, now I was for it.

 

At that very moment the radio in the police car crackled. I caught some of it - something about an RTA in Hendon. Pete took the call and beckoned to my interrogator. Apparently they were being ordered to attend the accident. Big beard’s inquisitive demeanour changed immediately and to my utter relief he dropped his line of questioning. “Have a safe trip home son,” he said as he walked away. Then the two cops jumped into their Humber and sped off.

 

As I watched the blue flashing lights disappear into the night I breathed a sigh of relief. That could have been a lot more complicated.

 

“So you’re from Gibraltar eh?” said Tina, hands on hips. “You’re fulla surprises you are Toddyboy.”

 

I didn’t confirm it but I didn’t deny it either.

 

Jed had also been listening in on my banter with the cops. “Where’s Gibraltar then?” he asked. He was obviously not the brightest kid in the class this guy.

 

“Southern Spain,” I replied.

 

A faint smirk of disbelief crossed his lips but it was tinged with a look of respect. “Bloody ‘ell. You come all that way on that bike?” he exclaimed.

 

“I’ve come a very long way, mate,” I replied.

 

“Hats off to you mate. Well, I’m off,” said Jed looking at Tina as if to say 'are you coming too?'

 

Tina declined, telling him she had to go home so he took her aside, gave her a snog then roared off into the night on his 5TA with a couple of his mates.

 

“You really from Gibralter?” she asked.

 

I didn’t want to lie but the concept of telling her the truth just didn’t seem logical right then and there. I decided to sidetrack the conversation. “Actually, I’m tired Tina. I need to get some sleep. It’s been a really long day,” I said.

 

“Oh! Where are you staying?,” she asked inquisitively.

 

Jesus! Did this bird ever stop asking awkward questions! Then again I thought to myself, where was I going to stay?

 

Again, Tina had me on the hop, but again she came to my rescue. “If you like you can stay at my place. It’s just me and me Mum live there. My dad left years ago. You can sleep on the sofa.

 

I had to think about it for a moment. My house, my wife, my family didn’t even exist yet. I was stranded in a time before I was even born yet the environment around me was vaguely familiar. How was I going to get back to reality? What would I do if I couldn’t? It was all too much to contemplate right now. I needed time to figure it all out and more than anything I needed sleep. I was bushed. This girl was the only person who was willing to help me. I had no choice but to follow her lead and take things as they came.

 

“I can’t ride this bike with this number plate on it though,” I said, gesturing towards the fluorescent yellow plate on the back of the TDM.

 

Tina smiled, zipped open her leather jacket, and pulled out a screwdriver from the inside breast pocket. “We’ll have to change it for my one then,” she replied. Her bike was a Matchless 250. Within a few minutes she’d removed the rear number plate and replaced mine with it.

 

“I’ll leave my bike here for tonight. Old Joe will look after it for me,” she said. Joe was the proprietor of the place apparently. “I’ll ride pillion with you!”

 

There wasn’t much else I could do or say about that, so without further ado Tina donned her helmet and jumped on the back of the TDM. “I live near Hunton Bridge in Abbotts Langley,” she said, pointing West. "Are you coming or do I have to ride this thing myself?"

 

I knew where Hunton Bridge was. I’d messed around there when I was a kid, so I cocked my leg over the saddle, fired the bike up and with my little temptress's hands wrapped round my body I headed off into the night wondering to myself where all this was going to end.

 

To be continued ………………………………………….