Slob, the early days

Unreasonable demands to be ferried from here to there and back again. Deliberately missing the last train and making reverse‑charge phone calls to get picked up at silly o'clock while legless had finally tipped the scales.

"That's it! You are getting a motorbike, you little fucker!"
Actually, I'm paraphrasing:
" Jamie, dear?"
"Yes, mummy?"
"You are getting a bike, you little shit, cos I haven't slept for weeks!"
"But mummy, I have no money"
"Get a job you little bastard and get tick, I'll be the pissing guarantor!"
And so it came to pass, that a naïve 17 year old and his mother standing outside a bike shop in Guildford were about to sell his soul.

The guy who owned the place looked like a reject out of the film Snatch. A little more olive skinned than was British, wearing a stained wife beater that may have once been white (Yellow was a safer bet). An unruly matt of body hair forcing itself from under every seam and a large unlit cigar protruding like a turd from his maw.
"so you want a scooter, huh?"
"actually no. I would like a motorbike… I'm 17 so can I have a big one?"
The man grunted and continued his appraisal of the juvenile before him.

Finally the man turned on his heel and wandered off to the back of the shop muttering to himself. I looked at mum and she looked at me, I shrugged.
What the hell did I know about the murky world of motorcycle purchases?
" The boy will take credit" Mumsie called into the gloom.
I thought I heard a muffled cackle but I couldn't be sure. The man reappeared, looking somewhat cleaner! The guy walked us around the showroom ushering us toward front window.
While we were walking he was recommending helmets and waterproofs and boots and other such garments of safety. He then stopped in from of a Kawasaki AR125 in red and white.
The clouds parted and a single beam of light shone on me and the machine, actually it was a discreetly placed spotlight the guy saved for such occasions! But I would not find this out until it was too late.

The guy discreetly passed me a helmet that colour matched the bike, I tentatively slipped it over my head and was immediately blinded by the darkness.
" take your cap off first dickhead" grunted the guy.
I pulled the lid off and removed the baseball cap, no cap peak was going to blind me this time.
I stood in awe as the guy wheeled the bike into the car park at the rear.
Trying to swagger as if I knew what I was doing I walked straight into an exhaust system hanging from the ceiling and nearly floored myself. I scuttled out after him.
"You know how to ride a bike, don't you?"
"…Yeah of course"
"you lying little shitbag, you'll do as I say alright!"
I shut my mouth and absorbed his wisdom, there was something intoxicating about his beer and garlic breath coupled with his aggressive monotone.
"Do you fucking fancy me or what?"
"shut up mum! We'll never get a discount if you carry on like that!" I retorted, this was no time for yummy mummy antics… No, this was where I became a man, kind of. I mounted up and turned the key, pulled out the choke and engaged the kick start. First time! Wannnggg wanggg neanngg neaaanngg neweanng. The bike neaaanged into life filling my heart with joy.
I let go of the clutch and the bike leapt forward only for me to knock the kill switch. Horror replaced joy and I tumble sideways. Luckily me and the bike fell into a pair of hairy burly arms, Mumsie had caught me when I needed her most!
Second attempt, kicker engaged, bike fired up and off I scream, and scream, and scream and scream… Then I hear in the distance like some ghostly voice Chur- hang – rear- bow – do – gunt. As I screamed around in circles the words echo around my head until they finally are deciphered " Change Gear. Now you …!".
I stamp on the gear lever and lock up the rear wheel " Other side you…" I change feet and kick wildly upward until my foot connects with metal and I'm away. Out the car park gates and tearing down the road. I'm heading for a wild S‑bend with a pub on the corner, I scream into the car‑park and flick the kill switch, I coast to a halt if front of a garden full of lunchtime drinkers all staring at me. I calmly get off the bike, keep the clutch in, walk the bike in a big circle and ride off up the hill.

"I'll take it!" I yelled at the guy. I signed every bit of paper he threw at me.
"now remember son, whatever happens to you. You never bought this bike here!" " are you saying that because you are the Devil" I asked tentatively.
"Don't be so fucking stupid!" he said as he gave me a Chinese burn.
"You're a liability and you will bring misery and pain with your riding".
fair to say that prophecy has been largely true in the years since I first rode that AR!