Playing on my bogie

Continuing with yesterday’s theme of nostalgia, today I am reminiscing about how we passed our time when we were young. One of the highlights of my childhood (I know this is sad) was when I finally found some old pram wheels and was able to make my first bogie. Kids gained some kudos in the neighbourhood if they had a well made bogie. We used to have races and terrorise pedestrians. (Not intentionally of course!). There was always an argument as to who was going to push and who was going to steer the front wheels with the bit of rope. For those not from Hull a tenfoot was an alley at the back of the terraced houses. Anyway here’s today’s poem about my bogie...

Playing on my bogie

Fun for me

When I was young

Was playing on a bogie

A fruit box, plank

A piece of rope

And four wheels from a pram

We took it in turns

To be the driver

With a friend 

To do the pushing

Best thing 

Was when we found a hill

That feeling of elation

Speeding perilously

Dangerously, irresponsibly

Close to a tree 

Now these things

Weren’t the most robust

Often falling apart

Wheels buckled

Bits fell off

The steering locked 

In left turn

But we cherished 

Our bogies

Riding with pride

Terrorising old ladies

On pavements, parks

And down tenfoots

Pretending 

we were Graham Hill

There were no PlayStations 

In those days

Just home made entertainment

This was the time 

When the youth was free

When the best thing in life

Was playing on my bogie.