“Went up Trevs. back wheel on Tracker cocked up”
Trev lived ‘across the other side of town’, in (what was then considered) ‘upmarket’ Chandlers Ford. We lived on the poorer, doubtless considered more ‘common’ side of town in Fair Oak.
Going to Trev’s consisted of either cycling there – some 5, maybe 6, miles – or catching a pair of buses.
It appears that, today, I cycled there – and then had to presumably walk back, wheeling a wonky bike with me. The “tracker” was my euphemism for my bike, a pretty regular machine upgraded (by me) with long/tall trekking handlebars (turned upwards) that made me ride with my hands in the stratosphere.
Now, old and ‘decrepit’, I’m not sure I would enjoy holding my arms up in the air that long, but back then… boy, I was the veritable shiznit