Your fathers' bike
Not exactly your racing bike. I bought it from a petrol tanker driver. He was a natty dresser with Brylcreamed hair and a neat moustache. He used it to drive to the tanker and back, sitting upright, as he did in the tanker. I rode this British Racing Green Frances Barnett thing to Pretoria to the dreaded police college, and screamed around the dusty parade ground, with my very good friend Anthony Shuttleworth van der Merwe riding pillion. Not a bright idea. I was unlicensed and got thrown in the dog box for a few days. After that things went downhill and Tony and I decided to move on. I joined the SAR in the Local Accountants Office in Oswald Pirrow Building, Smith Street, Durban, and worked on my first computer. An ICT 1300. A slight change in direction.