Reading the Mods N Rockers thread and some others - I was wondering if you had been in any ''rumbles'' as the Poms say...or have you all led sheltered lives,but k'now,we are bikers to the bone surely? Here are a couple from me to start with,there are more,but it will give you an idea of what was happening in the early 70s and my fighting style.
My brother had a big party at the flat he was living in - a flat in those days was a kauri villa in an inner city suburb with lots of young people living in it - always more than the number of rooms.This was a huge do,the cars were lined up both sides of the street,inside the house there was no room to move,just people everywhere,real music blasting out of the big stereo speakers....wow,choice.
Then we were gate crashed by the King CobrasThey started by running up and down the cars parked outside - jumping from bonnet to boot,over the roof,landing on the bonnet and so on,on all the cars on both sides of the road.In those days bike boots had leather soles with steel heel and toe plates,so it was quite noisy.When they came on the property they knocked down the small block wall outside,all in one piece at ground level.I was standing in the hall by the front door when they came in - the first guy had a baseball bat and his first swing took out the hall light,the second landing beside me and smashing the phone.Well,that kinda set the tone and in a matter of minutes most of the happy party goers had decided to leave.
We weren't going to leave my brother and his friends to this fate so we all stayed and so did a few others,there was still a party going on,piss needed drinking.I nearly threw him to the lions though - I was standing in the kitchen and he came up to me and said ''great party eh'' and punched me in the arm,I was none too steady on my feet either and stumbled,spilling some of my drink on the biker chick next to me...she turned to the leader of the group and said...''Max,this little shit just poured his drink all over me''Ah,tiz lucky the boy is Oyrish and one of his ancestors must a kissed the Blarney Stone now isn't it? or maybe it was the tears as I knelt pleading at his feet.I don't know what happened,but I know there is an eternety between heart beats.
Later we all piled into my International pick up and went back to our own suburb to get reinforcments - came back and rattled some spears,then all went our separete ways.
Maybe a year later we were up at Whangaparoa,still with my International AS110 when we came across a party with fighting in the street - they were being gate crashed,so the guys I was with wanted to be in on it too.I was in the pick up tray and jumped out to see we were parked in front of a red 57 Chev,nice car - so I opened my bottle of beer on that big headlamp suround,it was perfect for the job.Didn't sound like the guys inside thought it was the sort of thing I shoulda done,they were yelling and sceaming as I walked into the middle of the fight.
This wasn't my normal crowd and one of them who was a little guy like me wanted to wear my jacket and kept pestering me about it.It was not the sort of thing these guys wore,it was a DJ,a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped out - so I walked up to him and said ''hey,wanna wear my jacket?'' so he took it and put it on,big smile on his face.He also had frizzy hair,so I took off my toweling hat and went into the house.
The house was deserted,they were all out fighting in the street,so I found a nice bottle of something and wandered out the back,thinking I needed a crap in the outhouse seeing as it was so quiet.Sitting in the longdrop sampling apricot liquere,listening to the noise as I pissed hard against the front board.Trouble is I found out there was no front board - I had just pissed all over my jeans
Back at the house we were all heros,my boys had cleaned up the gatecrashers and now we were guests.On the way back to where we were camped I had a bit of trouble,coming up to a corner the brakes failed in the old truck,the pedal just went to the floor - I pumped a few times with no luck,so went off the road and into a park,spinning around a bit then back on the road.The brakes were ok now,it looks like I was using the clutch instead - easy mistake eh? I was sleeping in my truck,my mate in my other car,an old VW,when about 3.00am I hear shouting outside - the guy who had my DJ was looking for me,seems he had a little bit of trouble back at the party and he reckons it's my fault.My mate who loved a fight says we need a sleep - but we were going to meet them all at 8.00 at the footy field,he said the two of us were going to take the whole fuckin lot of them on.
We were out of there at 6.00.
I guess I am lucky in that anyone involved in these fun and games is either dead,in OZ or is a lawyer or property developer - I will never see them - I hope!
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Originally Posted by Hitcher
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