I first moved to Basingstoke when I was 19. There was a totallt different biking crowd to Newbury, where I'd come from, just 15 miles away. The Basingstoke mob were proper long haired hippy 70s bikers. There was a girl called Sally. A big, buxom lass who took no cr*p from anyone. She bought a dilapidated old Victoria Town House & rented the rooms out to fellow bikers.
I've got fond memories of lazy sunny Sunday afternoons spent there. A big house, full of bikers, a constant soundtrack of rock music, beer bottles everywhere, a big pile of crash helmets & leathers in the hallway, the faint smell of weed everywhere, half built bikes in the living room, Big Sal sweeping engine parts aside on the big kitchen table & serving up one of her famous chillis or stews.
I wonder what happened to Sal.