Say the words ‘design classic’ and most people will think of the London tube map, the Rolex Oyster Perpetual or perhaps the classic Coca Cola bottle. The Raleigh Chopper bicycle is not necessarily the first thing that springs to mind and the reason for that may be that a lot more people than are letting on had bad experiences with it or more precisely the gear lever that appeared to have been designed by a disciple of the Marquis de Sade. It was however, undoubtedly the coolest looking bike around, like something Evel Knievel might ride so every kid wanted one.
My parents had decided from an early age that I would have a nice safe, sensible bicycle in a nice safe, sensible shade of blue. Daves’ parents on the other hand had given in and bought his brother Alex a Raleigh a few years earlier and by default this passed to Dave when Alex got a new bicycle. My opinion of Dave was that he was a jammy sod as my parents were stubbornly resisting my pleas for a shiny new Raleigh which was probably down to the fact that they knew I would do something silly with it that would involve a trip to casualty. They knew me all too well.
Dave got his Chopper soon after Christmas and no sooner had he got his hands on it than I was round at his house to try it out. For an hour or so we took turns riding it up and down the road outside his house, occasionally zooming round the block via the back lane. So far so good but then a couple of our mates from school appeared and we decided, as you do that it would be cool to emulate Mr Knievel by using a piece of wood as a ramp to jump over people lying on the ground. So we did and miraculously without casualties. That’s when we got cocky, how about jumping over people two to a bike? Excellent idea! How do we get enough speed? How about doing it on the “Hill o’ certain doom!”, the steepest hill in the area ? Ace! How about setting the ramp on fire? Er…no!
Now this is where things started to go downhill fast. Literally! We convinced our school mates to lie in the road about a third of the way down the hill as it wasn’t a busy road and set the ramp up. Dave and I pushed the bike to the top of the hill, climbed aboard and set off with him pedalling as fast as he could. We hit the ramp perfectly and sailed over our mates imagining the crowd going wild at this Knievel-esque bravery. All we had to do was stop and this is the point at which Dave made an alarming discovery. Alex had not cared for the bike quite as well as he could have or to put it simply, the brakes were knackered and us racing around the block for two hours had knackered them even more. The bike lived up to its reputation for developing a wobble at speed. We screamed like girls. Dave pumped the brakes. Nothing happened. We screamed like even bigger girls. Dave hauled on the brakes and the bike came to a sudden halt.
My parents had decided from an early age that I would have a nice safe, sensible bicycle in a nice safe, sensible shade of blue. Daves’ parents on the other hand had given in and bought his brother Alex a Raleigh a few years earlier and by default this passed to Dave when Alex got a new bicycle. My opinion of Dave was that he was a jammy sod as my parents were stubbornly resisting my pleas for a shiny new Raleigh which was probably down to the fact that they knew I would do something silly with it that would involve a trip to casualty. They knew me all too well.
Dave got his Chopper soon after Christmas and no sooner had he got his hands on it than I was round at his house to try it out. For an hour or so we took turns riding it up and down the road outside his house, occasionally zooming round the block via the back lane. So far so good but then a couple of our mates from school appeared and we decided, as you do that it would be cool to emulate Mr Knievel by using a piece of wood as a ramp to jump over people lying on the ground. So we did and miraculously without casualties. That’s when we got cocky, how about jumping over people two to a bike? Excellent idea! How do we get enough speed? How about doing it on the “Hill o’ certain doom!”, the steepest hill in the area ? Ace! How about setting the ramp on fire? Er…no!
Now this is where things started to go downhill fast. Literally! We convinced our school mates to lie in the road about a third of the way down the hill as it wasn’t a busy road and set the ramp up. Dave and I pushed the bike to the top of the hill, climbed aboard and set off with him pedalling as fast as he could. We hit the ramp perfectly and sailed over our mates imagining the crowd going wild at this Knievel-esque bravery. All we had to do was stop and this is the point at which Dave made an alarming discovery. Alex had not cared for the bike quite as well as he could have or to put it simply, the brakes were knackered and us racing around the block for two hours had knackered them even more. The bike lived up to its reputation for developing a wobble at speed. We screamed like girls. Dave pumped the brakes. Nothing happened. We screamed like even bigger girls. Dave hauled on the brakes and the bike came to a sudden halt.
Now remember that gear lever that I was talking about? It’s why they called the bike ‘The Chopper’. Perfectly positioned to catch Dave in the bollocks as he shot forward off the saddle. He didn’t scream initially, his only noise was a muffled “Eeep!” I did not get time to scream as he rebounded and the back of his head hit me in the face. Seconds later we were lying in the middle of the road, him rolled into a ball clutching his battered testicles and saying things that a ten year old really should not say and me wondering where all the blood was coming from that was covering the jumper that mum had threatened to slaughter me if I got it dirty. It really was lucky the hill was not busy as it was a good five minutes before we could pick ourselves up. Our mates simply stood by trying to suppress sniggers, the bastards!. Fortunately for us Daves gran, an ex-hospital matron lived in a side road off the hill and had become used to us suddenly appearing with cuts and bruises so we staggered round there, him walking like a cowboy that has just been kicked in the nuts and me with my jumper stuffed up my nose to stem the flow of blood.
Daves gran was remarkably calm when presented with her grandson clutching his groin, supported by two lads trying not to laugh and his best mate bleeding all over her carpet and set to patching us up which seemed to involve copious amounts of ice cubes applied to the afflicted parts. Whether it was the accident or frostbite Dave walked a bit oddly for weeks afterwards. As for the Chopper ? That got passed on to Daves younger brother who managed to break his arm after riding it into a 2CV a couple of months later and after that we all agreed that a nice sensible bike in a nice sensible colour was by far the best option even if it did not make us look like Evel Knievel.
Daves gran was remarkably calm when presented with her grandson clutching his groin, supported by two lads trying not to laugh and his best mate bleeding all over her carpet and set to patching us up which seemed to involve copious amounts of ice cubes applied to the afflicted parts. Whether it was the accident or frostbite Dave walked a bit oddly for weeks afterwards. As for the Chopper ? That got passed on to Daves younger brother who managed to break his arm after riding it into a 2CV a couple of months later and after that we all agreed that a nice sensible bike in a nice sensible colour was by far the best option even if it did not make us look like Evel Knievel.
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