I was chuffed when Granny bought us a scooter. Not one of those shiny red scooters from Arnold’s but a second hand one that might have been red once, if it had any colour at all. But a scooter’s a scooter and this one was ours. Great for riding down Milsted Road: just not so great coming back.
Riding a scooter with lots of people about could be dangerous. It certainly was for an old lady coming around the corner by The Royal Engineer on the morning I bombed down from the shops and hit the bend. With disaster imminent I stamped at the brake plate… and missed. Frantic, I stamped again; this time the scooter swerved and swung and a disastrous collision was narrowly avoided, but my recklessness wasn’t without consequence. Examination of my stinging ankle revealed a nasty cut from the edge of the brake plate, suffered when I’d missed the brake at the first attempt. The scar remained visible for years.
Ouch!
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