23 July 2013


'Cheap to run and easy to maintain,' the salesman told the gathering crowd. 'And so safe you could let your granny ride it. She couldn't come to any harm on a three-wheeler.' He was demonstrating the Ariel 3, a new kind of motorised three-wheel machine, bright orange, with a basket at the front. The man said the contraption was designed with women in mind and, by the interest shown on the onlookers' faces, the ploy was working. 

Maddy Fox was wide awake by this time, having travelled in by train in a half-conscious state due to the late night she'd had. She didn't remember alighting at New Street or being transported up the escalator, in fact she might have stumbled over the rope barrier had the salesman not shouted a warning. He was a real loud-mouth, and he'd made her feel such a fool dragging her across the display area and inviting her to sit on the orange machine until she'd fully recovered.
She had to admit the seat was comfortable and her feet easily touched the ground, and she was quite taken with the idea of travelling to work on the cheap, but could she afford it?
'Money back in no time,' the man said. 'A gallon of petrol is nothing compared to the cost of travelling by train five days a week, and you'd get the extra benefit at weekends. And think of how nippy it is. No parking problems or waiting in traffic queues. Take my word for it, a whole new world would open up.'
A week later Maddy bought one. She had asked several friends what they thought of the new invention and they viewed it as a worthwhile buy. So, since the consensus of opinion was that these machines would become fashionable, she bought one. She had never ridden anything like it before, and before long she knew she would never ride anything like it again.

The Ariel 3 had a mind of its own. It had no problem travelling without a rider, and often did just that, but when Maddy mounted the thing refused to budge. She would turn the ignition key and pedal like crazy, but it wouldn't start, then when she climbed off to see what was wrong, the stupid little brake lever would disconnect and the contrivance would take off. As an added exasperation, on the rare occasions she got it going, the spark plugs furred up, yet remained in perfect condition on its solo performance. Nevertheless she persevered, and discovered that if she cleaned the plugs the night before all would be well.
Bernice and Margaret, the two girls Maddy worked with, were impressed, and both were brave enough to have a go. Accordingly, at lunchtime, they gathered in Church Street for a trial run, Maddy starting the machine and quickly alighting so that Bernice could hop on. Without fail it took off before she could hoist a leg, careered mutinously down Church Street, and eventually glided to a halt in a vacant parking space. Bernice slapped her thigh and declared it to be the funniest thing she'd ever seen, but Maddy was overcome by embarrassment, feeling she was doomed to be forever making excuses for the machine's devastating conduct.

One wet and windy evening, a month after taking possession of her flashy tormentor, Maddy, with a good deal of trepidation, kick-started the bike and heaved a loud sigh when for once the thing jerked into life. She quickly set off for home, cutting down the side road which led to New Street. She took the corner carefully, giving pedestrians the right of way lest the machine chose that moment to romp, then prepared to take off. Sadly, her trouser-leg caught on the pedal and the bike tipped her onto the road, then shook itself upright and advanced up the congested street amidst buses, cars and taxis, launching itself directly at the traffic lights, where it crashed, unharmed and in complete control of its own destiny, while Maddy viewed the new invention with all the hatred she could muster.

For two days, as if sensing her disapproval, the bike functioned precisely as it should and Maddy was endowed with a confidence hitherto lacking in their relationship, finally consoled that her money had not been wasted. Almost in celebration, she removed the basket from the handlebars and affixed a square case to the back, more in keeping with her role as city traveller and less likely to strew the contents on the ground. Securing the case with colourful spiders, an added precaution since her handbag, knitting, and lunch box were inside, she donned her helmet and journeyed home, exhilarated for the first time to be handling her newfangled, dutiful machine.
It was Friday and the traffic was bumper to bumper on the steep hill where Maddy lived, but she didn't care. Gleefully she wove slowly in and out, overtaking big cars and small ones, occasionally encouraging the Ariel's progress with a toot on her horn. But half way up the hill, as she was debating the purchase of fish and chips, she heard someone yell, 'Hey, blondie, your bag just fell off.'
Over her shoulder, Maddy saw the blue case bounding on its corners down the hill. Hurriedly she parked the bike and ran to retrieve it.
The demon machine took off.
Maddy's hands flew to her face, watching with horror as it crossed the road and mounted the pavement, then rode the railway station's brick exterior like the wall-of-death, before turning an expert somersault and landing upright on the footpath. But it wasn't over. The impetus drove it back up the wall and sent it spiralling through another somersault before crashing down and narrowly missing a band of teenagers who watched with captivated expressions.

It had to go, and next day it was returned to the garage from whence it came. Maddy demanded her money back, but was persuaded by the manager to try another machine. She did, and bought a Honda 90. Silver coloured and peaceful-looking.

Her friends, Bernice and Margaret, liked the look of the Ariel so much they each acquired one. Only Bernice had trouble, when her machine drove backwards through the Queensway tunnel - on its own.
Maddy wondered ... but it wasn't possible. Her bike was locked in a garage.
Wasn't it?

(This was a true story, though the names were changed to protect the innocent – ME! 
Yes, I was the unfortunate owner of the Ariel 3.)
NOTE FOR THE DAY is at the top of the sidebar


  1. smiles. i remember this one...oh my, and that it is a true story...demon bike least you survived it right?

  2. I was about to say you couldn't make it up and low and behold you didn't! LOL

  3. Lovely, a great read. Now to get to the Monday Mirth :)

  4. OMG Valerie, yes, I remember reading this one, but didn't realize then that it was a TRUE story and that it was YOU!!!

    Yikes...glad you survived!

    LOVED your "Note For The Day!"


    Have a terrific Tuesday, dear lady!


  5. Brian, the demon bike story is almost worn thin...grins.

    Pearl, no, I didn't make it up. I remember that bike as if it was still around. It was scary!

    Ron, so am I glad to have survived. That killer bike had a mind of its own.

  6. I'd never heard of the Ariel 3 before so I've looked at various websites about it. The consensus seems to be that it was the fault of the machine and not the rider. The tilting steering mechanism should have worked in theory – but practically it didn't. I suspect that even Evel Knievel or Eddie Kidd would have found it difficult to manoeuvre it safely. Perhaps they could have gone for the 'Guinness World Record' of who stayed on the Ariel 3 the longest period of time. I remember my Ariel Arrow.

  7. I think you know that the Ariel 3 was manufactured by BSA
    Who were clients of my firm in the 1970's.I remember seeing a huge warehouse full of them.They were a technical shambles and a commercial write off and a compensation lawyers dream.I never thought my future wife would be such a daredevil and ride one!!

  8. Hi Elliot. Unfortunately I wouldn't have won a place in the Guinness World Record, although I might have tried harder to stay on the darned thing.

    Joe, I didn't know about compensation. I think I gave in too quickly without thinking it through.

  9. Hi Valerie! had a great laugh..throughout reading I was just wondering if it is true..but I laughed my lungs out when at the end came to know that its true and the lead role is played by you..a wonderful read as always..

    commenting after a long break..will need lots of days to read all ur pending posts..

  10. Heh...oh, how machinery sometimes seems to have a mind of its own! And I'm not sure if I'd ever purposely purchase a possessed motorbike, even if it was as swanky looking as the Ariel. Great story!

  11. Hi Herman, I think it was the swanky look that sold me... grins.

  12. Hi Ranita. How lovely to hear from you again. It HAS been a long time. I loved your comment, my friend. Thank you.


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