In 1985, the BMX bike craze was at its height. Every kid in our community was doing tricks on their BMX Raleigh Burner. Every kid apart from two: me and Martin Ogley. Martin was the owner of a purple Raleigh Chopper, and to be seen riding it in 1985 was embarrassing. The kids would knock into Martin mercilessly at every opportunity. And although I didn't own any kind of bike, I would join in. I knew that by keeping the focus on Martin, I was less likely to be a target.
When other kids asked where my bike was 
I would say my BMX was so top-of-the-range that I didn't ride it on the street. While I knew it would not hold up forever, I wasn't too worried. The New Year was coming and, after months of complaining to my dad, I was confident that a BMX would appear.
On the New Year, I was disappointed to see Martin playing at the end of our street on what was clearly a brand-new BMX. As we entered the house, my eyes were drawn to where my presents were piled up. There was a bike. A purple Raleigh Chopper. You see, in the week before the New Year, my dad just happened to be drinking in the local working men's club with Martin's dad, who was eager to sell an old bike after buying his son a new one.
It wasn't until I was in my 30s that we were in that same working men's club and I reminded my dad of that year, the year of Martin Ogley's Chopper. I thought he wouldn't remember the whole thing, but he did. And so I asked him the question: How the hell did I end up with Martin Ogle's Chopper? And my dad smiled and said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Well, because you were mean to Martin.”
