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Fiamma Carry-Bike and Radio Caroline


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I went down to the Carlsbad/Vista area Saturday to look at a Fiamma Carry-Bike for my new to me VW Eurovan Camper (in Ontario) and to go to Whittier to check on my VW Vanagon Westfalia TDI being Syncro converted. Taking my Land Cruiser appealed because its A/C worked and the sun was shining brightly. But $180 in gas for the Land Cruiser would mean that the bike rack seller would have to pay me to take the Fiamma for it to make economic sense.  Even taking the Peugeot 505 Turbo Diesel wagon didn't make economic sense, but checking on my other projects and the opportunity to have a Sri Lankan lunch at “Apey Kade” (“Our store”) and buy a mountain of appetizers to bring back to Fresno to share with friends reset the balance, and of course the Eurovan width bike rack would most likely not fit in the Land Cruiser, but there was reason to hope that it might fit through the open hatch of the biggest wagon to roam the interstates of America. And the Fiamma slid right in, with an inch to spare on each side.

Driving back through Los Angeles towards the end of the day my car radio happened across a classic rock station that claimed to play seldom heard songs, 9 uninterrupted songs at a time. The Sound, 100.3 FM. Cool station, and I was able to get it all the way through the Greater LA metroplex. In one 9 song set they played “Jessica” by the Allman Brothers Band and “Hocus Pocus” by Focus, almost back to back. Those songs are not often heard on the radio, and almost never heard together. These two songs were however, de rigeur in 'Personal top 15s' and “30s" played on Radio Caroline and later on the Mi Amigo pirate radio ship in the 70's. I think the "Top" sets came on late at night, 10 pm or midnight, if I remember correctly, long after bed time and lights out for my class mates and me in the Tower House dormitory. In an instant I was transported across 4 decades, a continent and the Atlantic Ocean to St. Augustine's College, Westgate-On-Sea, Kent, UK.

Suddenly I was back in my bed in the big dorm room at the top of the stairs directly above Mr. Duffy, the house master's, quarters. My bed was a white painted wrought iron metal frame affair, with severely chipped paint. In its day it would have been considered a basic model, a bargain unit, a hospital bed. Today it would likely pull good money at an antique store. The mattress was a 3 inch thick coir stuffed instrument of torture, which somehow managed to be welcoming after a day whose high-point was a hard game of rugby. The door was off its hinges and never closed, never allowed to be closed, and and not worth the effort of 3 of the 5 room residents to heft it closed, except when we played tennis ball football in the room. Twelve and 13 year olds blessed with the natural coordination and grace of their rapid growth phase, deluded light-footedly tip-toeing around beds and foot lockers while wildly swinging legs at a randomly bouncing tennis ball was an exercise in wishful thinking and futility. If Mr. Duffy was having dinner with his family, he'd be up in our room lickety-split.  If he was at the pub where he spent more time than in classrooms and his quarters combined; Game on!  If he was on his sofa giving himself another case of alcoholic's shoulder bursitis, our game was almost as safe. 


As Focus yodlled their way through Hocus Pocus I was was curled in my bed, covers drawn up over my head. Cream coloured double pack of cigarettes sized Medium wave mono-aural transistor radio hidden under my pillow, hiding the "7 Transistors" proudly emblazoned on all sides. Bulky pink matching mushroom shaped earpiece with red trim ring lightly pressed into the lower ear positioned at the edge of the pillow so that if Mr. Duxbury the assistant house master poked his head in while doing his rounds, I could in one smooth motion raise my head, release the earpiece and slide it under the pillow. That was my plan anyway. What 12 yr old didn't think he could outwit a twenty-something physics graduate pursuing an MSc in electronics who had already seen all the boys' tricks in his 3 or 4 terms teaching at the school?
Back in Los Angeles I wanted to be back there in my wrought iron bed. Not because I wanted to be a lonely, awkward, gawky teenager again, but through the filters of time and rose coloured glasses, all that percolated through was the intensity of the roller coaster of the Personal Top 30s, the lows only serving to intensify the joy of the highs.
Christmas lights impinged on my consciousness, jolting me back to reality, oh, dang! LA traffic turned into its Mr. Hyde parking lot alter ego with blaring, glaring, angry red glowing brake light eyes. I slammed on the brakes and the tyres barked right back at Mr. Hyde. Home was still 5 hours away.


JoE

 

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