CHILDHOOD (0-11)
I was born at an early age, way back in 1951. Even when I was a kid, I couldn’t stop fucking about with my toys. Always fiddling, taking things to bits, and not being able to put them back together. My Mum was a hairdresser, and my Dad was a fireman on British
Railways. I also have a silly brother, Nicky. My childhood was blissfully happy. We had no money, no car, and no-one had TV then.
We lived in a Council House, and never had to lock the door. Even if we did, everyone knew the key was under the mat! It was a very loving childhood.
I seem to have a reputation for not dressing particularly well. Some of my mates call me “Gummidge” because they reckon I make Wurzel Gummidge look like “The Man from C&A” and I must have started early.

I went to a nice little primary school next to Grantham Parish Church, and did very well, gaining the distinction of being the “Most Caned Boy” with a total of 52 “Six of the Bests”. However, I did manage to pass my 11+ exams, and ended up at one of the poshest Grammar Schools in the country, The “King’s School” (Motto; Honi Soit Qui Mal Y Pense). By now we were living in our own tiny 2-up, 2-down terraced house. Lovely and cosy.
I took on a paper round, and with my new-found wealth of 2/6d a week, could afford to buy plastic kits, mainly of cars and bikes, and also started nicking HotRod magazines from the shop…the imported American ones, as this was @ 1964 and there were no British ones. I also nicked the odd copy of “Parade” and “Health & Efficiency”!

After a while, I got enough cash together to buy my first internal combustion machine, a 1950’s Raleigh. Cost 5/- and was “Fielded”. Many old bikes followed.
I also excelled at the King’s School, being the most caned, having the most detentions and receiving the most lines. I didn’t like Latin and all that crap, and, at age 15 the Headmaster informed my Dad that I was wasting a valuable education, would never achieve anything, and had no chance of passing my “O” Level exams, and would he please “Take me away, as I was disruptive”. In polite terms (it was a posh school), he expelled me. My Dad got me a job.
So, at 15, I found myself outside the gates of “Aveling Barfords”, manufacturers of Road Rollers and Earth-Moving vehicles, wearing new hobnail boots, a sparkling blue boiler suit and a severely pissed off look on my face.
But I was now on BIG money, £3/10/6d a week, of which £1 went towards my “keep”. But with

£2/10/6d I felt like a millionaire. The “PetrolHead” bug had bitten by now, and with this vast wealth, I bought a Go-Kart with a 125cc Villiers engine in it. Within a few months, I had replaced that with a 500 Triumph Speed-Twin and Slickshift box. And then I bought my FIRST real bike, a 1950’s MAC Velocette. God, I loved that bike! I’d also discovered, by then, Drag Racing and CHOPPERS through American magazines. Oh…and I’d discovered WOMEN too.

My Dad asked me what I wanted for my 16th birthday. “I want to go to Santa Pod Dragstrip”, I said. Dad had never heard of it. But, by now, the family had transport. A Durkopp Diana motor scooter. And I couldn’t believe it, he took time off work and off we went. 27th of March 1967. What a bloody eye-opener. Superchargers and methanol, Castrol “R” and burning rubber. That day changed my life. I went back to the horror factory, where people were just numbers and life revolved about the “Works” Hooter, and promptly got myself sacked.  Within the week, I had what I really wanted, not what my Dad made me do. I had signed up for a 5-year apprenticeship as a MOTOR MECHANIC! My Dad let me have the scooter, as he was now well off enough to afford a Reliant Robin, I was 16, had my own wheels, a job, and a woman (well, girl). Life looked great…..or did it?

I’ll not cover my bikes and cars here, there were too many, and they can be found in another section. But now I work in a garage, I buy my first Road Bike, a 1937 KSS Velocette (I liked old singles). Cost me £12/10-. I’m married by now, and, at 19, have a child.

I bought the bike out of our “Maternity Grant”. It was bog-standard, but chopped within the week. Must’ve been @ 1970. When I turned up at work on it, my mate said he knew where there was an old bike on a farm. We went to look at it. It was, in fact, half a bike, as the farmer who owned it had cut off the front and rear to make a trailer, and only the middle was left. I bought it anyway, for £10. It was an Indian Vee Twin. When I popped the heads off, there was grease on the pistons. It had never been run.(Picture of Velocette Chopper) A love affair had started!
Remember how my headmaster told me I’d never achieve anything? Well, to prove him wrong, at 16 I enrolled at night school. 4 nights a week, and got 4 “O” Levels, allowing me to secure a job as an apprentice draughtsman for an offshoot of the Ford Motor Company, a firm that built generators, fire sprinkler pumps etc, all powered by Ford. I was driving a Morris Minor with a 6” roof-chop, and as it was so outrageous, they made me park it out of sight, round the back. At 19, I also bought my own

house, a brand new bungalow, from Barretts Homes (£3,143...£200 down, pay the rest for the next 25 years)
Age…Early twenties now. Chopping everything in sight. Cars, bikes, building buggies, big old Yanks, a V8 Pilot, and getting into lots of trouble as usual, only now it was with the law. Banned from driving 9 times, and, on the final arrest, driving whilst disqualified and

drunk. The fines were crippling me, but on this occasion, they threw the book at me. 18 months ban and 9 months at Her Majesty’s Pleasure. So, in the summer of ‘76, the hottest ever recorded, I was feeling sorry for myself in a cell in Lincoln Prison. I decided to stop trying to win, and stop driving.Now, in ‘76 the “BIG THING” was Disco. I hated it, but there was money in them there decks, and I set up my own Mobile Unit, with a lad to drive for me. Even built my own decks and speakers, and huge lighting rig. Didn’t get many wedding bookings for “The Exterminator Roadshow”, playing “Heavy Metal” only, so I bought some chart stuff, and changed the name to “Disco Dan”. Within a week, my bookings had quadrupled, and within a few months, I had 4 units on the road and employed 4 “DJ”s. I couldn’t believe what a success it was to be, and I also discovered there were actually lots and lots of naughty women out there. With a wife, 3 kids by now, a job, a mortgage, a load of cars, bikes and fines, I was getting bored.

Then came PUNK ROCK!!!!! Two of my mates decided to start a band, and asked me if I could sing. I replied “NO”, but had a go. The Disco’s were sold (Punk had killed them dead anyway) and the “Brick Wall Band” was born. I left the wife & kids, shagged

everything that moved, and started building a bike that would become quite famous and change my life. An NSU car-engined Chopper called “Nasty Nasty”. By the end of ‘79, the bike was seeing a lot of success around the shows, and I had a rather nice new lady, when, one day, all the lads in the garage were called into the office. We were informed we had one weeks notice, as we had all been made redundant.
We sat in the tearoom discussing what we’d do with our paltry redundancy money. On impulse, I said “I’m going to leave my wife, girlfriend, nice house and my kids, drive until I find somewhere I like, and start up a Custom Shop. And I’m going to call it DESPERATE DAN’S”