All I wanted to do was ride. Aged about 4, I had inherited an ancient Raleigh Firebird pushbike with solid rubber wheels (ouch) that wasn’t conducive with my latest obsession: Evel Knievel. (I can also say Junior Kick Start didn’t help either).
Ramps were constructed out of bits of wood and bricks, and cuts and bruises abounded. My brother had got an Evel Knievel toy for Christmas and it kept going missing from my brother’s room and being found with my Daisy Doll riding pillion. I couldn’t stop stealing it.
Round about then a strange older cousin had bought my brother a beautiful Kawasaki Z1 die-cast model in a plastic display case with an orange base. I was fascinated by all the shiny bits on it, and it similarly migrated to my room.
When my Girl’s World migrated to my brother’s room however, I claimed Evel and the Z1 for my own on a permanent basis, and Sindy pillioned with Evel, whilst Daisy had the Z1.
Footnote to this story is that you can’t make kids like or be something they’re not. Their own desires will come out at some point in life. I now ride a motorbike and my brother owns a chain of hair salons.