The Trip to Morecambe
Today, many pupils finish their school days and then take a
long break, going on an adventure for a year or so to places
like Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, and so on. Bill Rich
and Peter Verity describe here the trip they took when
they finished school to Morecambe for a few days.
[Times have changed.]
Bill kept a diary and this story is based on that account
plus some other memories.
The Diary
1968 was the year that I left Trinity High School. 1968 was
also the year that the last steam trains ran in England, the
Cobblers did not get relegated having dropped from the first
division to the third and Louis Armstrong had a hit with What A
Wonderful World. Canned Heat were On The Road Again. It was June
and the A levels were over. In October I would start work in the
real world.
Before that however, I was reminded by Peter Verity at the
reunion, of a trip that we, along with Brian Richardson, made to
Morecambe. Looking back I wonder how we survived or did not get
a night in a police cell. I have memories, photos and some notes
that I wrote at the time, but Peter confirmed that it really did
happen.
On July 2nd we set out at about 11.00
a.m. on two motor scooters. Brian customised his by drilling two
holes in the mudguard and adding the back of a kitchen chair. I
remember him smiling and suggesting that it would make the
journey more comfortable for me. What his mother would say when
she returned to find one of her chairs hacked to pieces is
another matter. We went in convoy up the M1 and along the A5 to
the M6. Peter’s scooter started to play up on the A5 - the plug
kept getting silted up. In fact, at one point, Brian and I got
several miles in front and had to come back to look for him.
While on the A5 Brian had a puncture and shortly after we ran
into a thunderstorm.
Things started to get slightly more problematical when we
were ‘cruising’ up the M6. Peter’s scooter slowed down and
eventually stopped, probably due to the rain. It was impossible
to bump start him, so the only thing to do was to tie the two
scooters together and pull him along. At about 25 mph, Peter
would attempt to start his scooter. This meant a sudden jarring
on Brian’s. As I recall things we found some tow rope, tied it
to Peter’s handle bars then around me and finally secured it to
Brian’s scooter. Once Peter’s scooter was running freely he
untied the rope and I had to pull it in. I suppose it was a bit
like a glider being a given a tow!
The rain still continued and we
sheltered under a bridge. It started to get dark. It was then
that we discovered that Brian’s lights did not work. Again we
had to get Peter started. The problem was that we were going up
hill at the time and there was not enough power to tow him. So
what! We simply went downhill along the hard shoulder against
the flow of traffic - except there wasn't any that late at
night. Once Peter got running I again pulled the rope in. We
then turned and went up the M6 in the slow lane. My notes stated
that it “went on like this for 50+ miles”. I also wrote “used
torch in blinding rain all the way to Morecambe”. Peter added to
this by pointing out that he kept as close as possible to the
rear of Brian’s scooter to give the impression that he had a
rear light. The theory was that the reflector would look like a
red light.
Somewhere, either on the M6 slip road or on the outskirts of
Lancaster, a police car was parked up for the night. We crept by
at a respectable speed and prayed that it did not decide to
follow us. By this time we were soaking wet, had no lights on
Brian’s scooter, had one scooter which, if stopped, would not
start again and a clutch on Brian’s scooter which tended to
stick. Still we got to Morecambe. We made good time really as it
only took 14 hours! We arrived at 1.00 a.m.
There was a problem the next day. We were staying with
Peter’s sister and I did not have a change of trousers. I was a
townie; I could always nip home if there was a problem, but not
this time. All of my clothes were wet. Peter came to the rescue
and took my jeans to the laundrette to dry them off. This meant
that I had to stay in bed. I recorded in my notes “had dinner
with Pete’s sister”. I assume that by this time I was wearing my
jeans. Alternatively I may have sat at the table in my mac.
In the afternoon we went for a walk
along the front at Morecambe. The highlights were a trip to
Marineland and Madame Tussauds. After such excitement we drove
down to Heysham for a glass of Granny’s Nettle drink – we were
living life to the full. Unfortunately Brian’s throttle cable
broke. This meant making a temporary repair using a piece of
string which ran over my shoulder to the back of the scooter. We
got back to Morecambe and went for a stroll along the front.
On the 4th Peter drove into Lancaster to buy a new cable.
After that we drove up to the Lakes. We visited Windermere,
Thirlmere etc and walked part way up Helvellyn. This would have
been in ordinary shoes! Quite boring really as nothing went
wrong that day. We returned at about 11.00 pm.
The 5th was a fine day so we drove to Lake Coniston. Donald
Campbell had died here, in 1967, attempting a world speed
record. My only memory of the lake is Brian driving into it with
his scooter and speeding along parallel to the shore. Alas no
photos were taken so there is no record of his attempt at the
world speed record. As he came back on shore he shouted
something along the lines of “I could have ….ing killed myself!”
We then rode on to the Wrynose and Hardknot Passes. The climb
was too much for Peter’s scooter when we stopped, so he returned
to the bottom of one of the passes to get another run up at it.
He came up at full speed (5 mph?) until he reached the top. At
one or two of the steepest points he jumped off and pushed with
the motor running. The only other thing to report that day was
Peter’s clutch cable breaking.
Saturday arrived and Peter went into Lancaster again to buy
another cable! In the meantime I made sandwiches. I dread to
think what they were. We set off via Blackpool for Northampton
at 11.30 a.m. Other than eating our sandwiches in Blackpool and
watching a carnival nothing happened.
With the exception of having to bump start Brian’s scooter we
made good progress home. We travelled back down the M6 and A45
to the M1. Just as we were approaching Northampton, Peter ran
out of petrol so as my notes state “had to tow him into Jame’s
End”. We arrived home at about 10.00 pm. We cut 3 ½ hours off
the journey.
Well Louis and Messrs Canned Heat the last line of my notes
was “hard, but enjoyable” so perhaps ’68 was part of a Wonderful
World. However, I did not go on the road again that year!
Being mean I kept a record of how much this trip cost. In
total I spent £4 10 shillings. £2 on petrol, £1 on food and gave
£1 to Peter’s sister for allowing us to sleep at her house. I
assume the other 10 shillings included entry to Madame Tussauds,
Marineland and a contribution to the various cables purchased. I
actually took £11.
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