Around the corner of our street, thirty years ago, lived a lad who mended bikes as a hobby.

I think he made them up from bits he found on the tip or had fished out of the canal. With the aid of a new chain and inner tubes he had a working bike to sell. It's the earliest form of recycling I can remember.

Soon his reputation had spread all over Runcorn and people who were just starting work or just looking for a cheap bike, would go and see Tony. I think he sold them for thirty bob, you could tell a Tony Special as it rattled up the steep hill, mud guards flapping in the breeze, squeaky wheels playing a tune as they were ridden off into the distance.

The phrase Keep Death off the Roads' springs to mind when I think of the boneshakers, that were loosely called bikes, that we used to ride as kids.

Having a brand new bike can be just as big a danger, another friend of mine called Rodney, came whizzing along the street, doing wheelies on his new state of the art racing bike, complete with pannier on the back and drinks bottles on the front. He was off to his dads allotment, so was in a hurry.

On his way back he had to go down Ivy Street, he was freewheeling nicely, suddenly he was going too fast, because of the steep slope.

He jammed his breaks on too quick, hitting the kerb, and flew over the handlebars and the Church yard railings. I think the priest came out and asked him if he "was all right".

He got up and dusted himself down there wasn't a mark on him.

Rodney was just looking up to the sky thinking "how lucky he'd been,"

when within seconds, the shovel that had been in his pannier, which had flown up in the air on impact, decided to come down again, it hit him on the head, splitting his head open, splattering blood everywhere.

Later on I remember seeing him with huge bandage around his head, like a mummy, Rodney and his family were very accident prone or so it seemed.

It's a question, which is the most dangerous, shovels or bikes?