Years ago, in the olden days, I used to run back and forth to the hot spring campsite on a Honda CT70 mini-bike. It was low to the ground and automatic, and I could ride it with an arm-load of firewood or buckets and perfect for the task. I put 1000 miles on the odometer just between here and the campsite, a kilometer each way. Back then there was a family come up from Squamish pretty regular to enjoy camping at the hot spring, they had a youngster along that they would turn loose on a little Honda 50 mini-bike. Robbie his name was, he'd go around in circles in the campsite while his folks were down in the tubs. It worked out pretty good as they could hear the putt-putt-putt going around in circles and knew where he was. If the noise went silent, all that was required was to track him down and add more gas to the tank, whereupon the putt-putt-putting would carry on again.
Often I'd be down there on my CT70, doing my rounds at the campsite and I'd hear this peculiar noise behind me. I'd turn around to find this pip-squeak following me around on his mini-bike with his helmet bouncing up and down on his head. I recall I brought him down here one day to see the collection of vintage Hondas I had at the time. I think it may have had a profound effect on his head.
Over the years I've sometimes wondered what became of the young lad and his bike. More than likely the cuteness finally wore off, traded-off for a newer model, neglected, or who knows what became of the little bugger.
But I was even more curious at what might have become of the mini-bike.
But I was even more curious at what might have become of the mini-bike.
So a week or so back I'm sitting around here waiting for something to happen, when I hear this peculiar noise coming in the driveway, the putt-putt-putting coming to a stop outside the front steps.
"Are you Robin?" a young man asks.
"That depends..." I offered.
"I'm Robbie, and you probably remember my bike!" he says.
Well danged if he wasn't. He was camped-out down at the hot spring and brought his old bike along to come down and see if Old Man Trethewey was still around, bringing along his cycle-mama.
Well how silly is that, keeping your silly little bike all these years, ...some people.
Oh wait a minute, I still got mine too!
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