Everyone remembers their first scooter, particularly the sense of freedom and adventure that it brought. For me, my first scooter also taught me many valuable lessons and honestly, the story is also tinged with a feeling of regret. However, before we begin to describe the unique 50cc Vespa Pedali, let’s travel back to industrial England in the late 1970s…..
Colliery capers
This was a time when everything seemed to be drab, anything fashionable was coloured brown or beige and the mining village I grew up in seemed to live under a cloud of coal-dust. Actually, it was a village that was home to miners and surrounded by other collieries. The mine that had created the village had closed some years before and its post-industrial landscape was our playground.
In an era when motorcycling was still a mainstream pastime, all any of us really wanted was a motorcycle of some kind on which we could hone our skills on the unforgiving spoil stacks. Rock hard in summer and swap like in winter they were the ideal training ground for those of us who yearned to graduate from pedal to petrol power. As the summer holidays approached, and in an effort to keep us out of trouble, our parents would ask around the Miner’s Welfare Club to see if anything was hiding in a shed somewhere that could be purchased for a few pounds. This search usually resulted in the arrival of a Honda Cub, usually in appalling condition and of dubious reliability. The rattiest of these would become communal property, living on the spoil stacks waiting for anyone with a drop of petrol to fire them into life. One summer we rode a Cub 50 with no front tyre, and that really was a test of our developing riding skills!
As a group I think we were regarded as a minor nuisance by most of the village, our parents knew where we were and we weren’t causing any real harm. The opposite view was taken by the local constabulary who seemed convinced that we were trainee Hell’s Angels riding stolen bikes. ‘Raids’ on the colliery weren’t uncommon and the resulting chases usually ended in a battle of our local knowledge versus police riding skills.
The ‘Q’ film
Thanks to one of the older lads in the village appearing on a multi-coloured Vespa Rally 200, my interest in scooters pre-dated the release of Quadrophenia by about six months and for a while an obsession with Vespas was entirely my domain. However, the appearance of Jimmy, Stef and their pals on the silver screen, together with the arrival of New Wave music meant that all any of us wanted to ride was a scooter. Despite having a head start on the desire to own a scooter, it was my mate Cookie who scored the first machine. When he appeared one afternoon on a baby blue Vespa 90 I was both thrilled and disappointed. He was my mate and we finally had access to a scooter but, it wasn’t mine. The hunt was on.
Small frame success
One lunchtime a lad from another year at school came up to me and asked if I was the Stan who was looking for a scooter. I wasn’t aware of any other Stans in that position so confidently replied “Yes”. Apparently his uncle had one for sale, what a result!
Later that week I found myself on a council estate in the next village in a house that wasn’t headed for the cover of House and Home. Its occupant, who appeared to be the prototype of Onslow from Keeping up Appearances, told me that it was in the back yard and would cost me a fiver. I’d anticipated this and after emptying my piggy bank and borrowing money from my dad based on the promises of a lifetime of car washing and lawn cutting had managed to raise the necessary funds.
The little Vespa could barely be seen above the grass, but it was mine! The fact that it had been partially dismantled didn’t bother me, neither did its brush applied Dulux blue finish. However I was slightly bemused by the fact that its floor was cut away and a bar had been inserted across the frame. After hunting through the undergrowth, and almost completely avoiding the ‘deposits’ left by the resident dog, I managed to find the missing parts and prepared to push my new found treasure the three miles home. As I was about to leave Onslow pointed to some parts that, if I close my eyes, I can still see lying under a child’s swing that had seen better days. “What about those?” he asked, pointing to some pedals, a chain-guard and some cogs. It appeared that my Vespa had the option of being pedal powered, hence the strange modifications. I laughed, secure in the knowledge that my pedal powered days were over. “I don’t need those, just bin them.” I replied.
The Pedali story
I now know that my first scooter was something of a rarity, being a ‘Pedali’. This was a Vespa 50 to which a set of pedals had been grafted. Initially intended for the French market, where ‘Motor assisted pedal cycles’ could be ridden by 14 year olds, a handful made their way to the UK where similar laws allowed a 16 year old to partake in motorised fun.
The Pedali was essentially a standard Vespa 50 with a three speed 50cc engine with most of its flor cut away. A tube had been inserted across the frame to which a pair of pedals were fixed. These could propel the scooter by means of a chain that was fixed to a free wheel bicycle type sprocket mounted to a specially cast rear hub.
Although the moped laws were written on an assumption that a limited number of people would attracted to rickety mopeds, manufacturers soon found ways to exploit the legislation. Whilst Piaggio assumed that style would win over the teenage heart, it was Yamaha that would fuel teenage dreams with its legendary FS1E. Although puny in terms of cubic capacity, mopeds such as the FS1E benefited from the lessons learned by competing in the 50cc Grand Prix championship. If racing 50s was good enough for a young Barry Sheene to learn his craft on, mopeds such as the FS1E were more than sufficient for the average 16 year old.
Grounded
With the help of may dad, who’d ridden Lambrettas in the 50s and 60s, the Pedali was soon pieced together. Incredibly, everything worked perfectly. My dad had insisted on fitting new cables and with those in place he pronounced that the little scooter would easily pass an MOT. More of that later…
Once on the old colliery the Pedali’s limitations soon became clear. It may have had three speeds but unlike Cookie’s 90, it was barely capable of pulling in any of them. On the flat it purred along but even a modest incline it slowed to little more than a walking pace. This didn’t matter to me, I was finally living the dream. Most importantly, I was also learning valuable riding skills and, with the help of my dad, getting to grip s with maintaining a two-stroke scooter. A fresh set of rings improved performance, but the three speed gearbox limited its puny potential. So much so that when I was intercepted riding the 100yards or so from my house to the colliery entrance by the local CID I had nowhere to run. Even the most asthmatic detective would have out paced the Pedali.
With the CID watching me intently, I pushed the Pedali home and awaited the wrath of my mum and dad for bringing the police to their door. Surprisingly, my dad was very calm. He produced the Pedali’s log book and made an impassioned plea about how it kept me out of trouble. Satisfied that the scooter wasn’t stolen and that I came from a ‘good homer’ the police let me off with a stern warning. Any thoughts I had of parental forgiveness were dashed as soon as the police had disappeared around the corner. I was well and truly read the riot act. Not only was I grounded, the Pedali was too. From now on I was restricted to riding around the restricted space in front of the block of garages behind the house.
The Pedali (almost) reborn.
My punishment lasted for the remainder of the summer holidays and also involved creosoting not just our fence, but those of every friend and neighbour who was prepared to buy a tin or two and wasn’t adverse to a bit of child labour..
However, those endless hours of brushwork enabled me to formulate a plan. My 16th birthday was early the following year. If I couldn’t use my Pedali on the spoil heaps then I’d get it ready for the road.
The engine was as good as it was ever going to be, but the Dulux paint had to go. Fortunately a schoolmate, ‘Tronk’ (I’ve no idea, don't ask) was working Saturdays and holidays at the local ‘Jack of all trades’ garage, working his way up to being an apprentice mechanic when we left school. A deal was struck that involved me stripping the bodywork and him painting it as some sort of work experience. I was to cover the cost of materials and accept that the finished result would be as supplied in whatever colour paint the garage had most of in stock. A couple of weeks later I collected my white Pedali and discovered that Tronk was a natural at spray painting. All things considered it was quite a result.
Fairly soon the Pedali was ready for its MOT, but then disaster struck. I became aware that some mopeds had pedals, whilst others didn’t. The explanation was chilling. Because manufacturers had worked around the rules to produce some fairly powerful machines the rules had changed. Although mopeds with pedal fitted were still legal, new machines were restricted to 30 miles per hour. My Pedali was clearly neither. A trip to see Tronk’s boss, who also ran an MOT station, confirmed my fears. To pass an MOT my Pedali needed pedals or some official documentation to state that it could not exceed 30mph. My appeals that it could barely achieve 25mph were to no avail, and even worse Onslow had moved on! The house was now tidy and the garden cleared of scrap. My Pedali was never going to be road legal.
A different dream
Thanks to a classified advert in the local paper the Pedali was sold on. The buyer, Ginner, soon discovered what I had and eventually scrapped the Pedali. Despite this he became a lifelong friend, sorry mate. I used the proceeds and a loan from my dad to buy a 50 Special. In fact I may be one of the few people on the planet to see the 50 Special’s performance as an improvement on what I’d known!
Of course the Pedali is now a rarity and of course I regret selling it. However, it taught me many lessons. The most important being that when buying a used scooter if any parts are offered, take them too!
A new generation
Although it’s a long time since we stocked a Pedali, or indeed Pedali spares, if you’re yearning for a 50 we’ve a range of options on offer. For more information give our sales team a call on: 01226 203377 or drop them a line at: sales@rondaleyscooters.co.uk
