Aaron Connor (7 page)

I was then reminded of a fairy
tale I was once told as a littlen, Dick Whittington and his Cat.
The story told of a young man from the olden days that came from
Gloucester. He travelled to London to seek his fortune. He defeated
the evil King Rat. He married Mr. Fitzwarren’s beautiful daughter
Alice and eventually became Mayor of London. All of that was
accomplished by Dick Whittington following his heart. He knew that
Gloucester had nothing to offer him and his wide ambitions, so he
made off for new places in which to accomplish his dreams.

It was only in that moment,
striding a yellow motorbike in the dark of night, that I realised
the real wisdom behind that tale. At this point of my journey that
wisdom had so much relevance. Lizzie was breathing deeply behind
me. She leaned over and whispered something in my ear:

“
It’s your
choice, whichever you pick I’ll be right behind yah”

I nodded silently, not taking
my eyes off of the signs. I took in a deep breath and closed my
eyes. I turned the hands to the right. Lizzie sighed and sat back
down, ready to get moving again towards home. Then, I suddenly
changed my mind. In one quick sweeping movement I brought the hands
around. The front wheel was now facing towards the left hand road.
I revved up the engine again. Lizzie leaned over my shoulder and
kissed me on the cheek.

“
You know it
makes sense!” she said with a sweet smile.

I kept revving up the engine,
let go of the brake and soared down the country path. We passed the
usual signs of the countryside, before finally coming out of the
other side onto a main road. We got into one of the four car lanes
heading towards London. We were grinning from ear to ear as we
travelled along. Suddenly we both just belted out:

“
WHOO-HOOO!!”

CHAPTER SIX

Cars, Motorbikes, Coaches and
Lorries drove alongside us and all around us. All of their lights
were on, which made the road ahead shine in a mixture of yellow
headlights, orange indicator lights and red brake lights. The wide
road was lined with grey iron fences, tall lampposts with small
yellow lights, hundreds of green road signs and many off road
service stations.

After a few hours into the
journey, we pulled into one of these road service stations to rest.
On the way to the car park, we saw a road sign that said “Welcome
to Essex” in large, friendly letters. Other than the B.E.N
representation of “Chavs”, ITV has now put Essex on the map but
unfortunately for all of the wrong reasons. They created a new
stereotype for people who live in Essex, which in my opinion is
just as bad as what B.E.N had done to British teens.

I’m pretty sure that you know
of the stereotype I’m referring to. It makes out that all people
from Essex are extremely vain, uneducated and seedy. Stopping off
at this service station would be my first time in Essex and, other
then what I’ve learnt from the ITV television programs, I didn’t
know anything about these people. I assumed that, like everything
else on telly these days, it was over exaggerated and not to be
taken seriously. When I saw that sign, I was instantly intrigued. I
was interested to see if other media based discriminations were
just as false and harming as the ones that have affected me.

It was quite late at night, so
the car park was practically empty. There were only a few cars, a
coach and two Lorries parked there. We found a good space near the
front. I kicked down the bike stand. I climbed off first and then
helped Lizzie down.

As our feet hit the tarmac, we
could feel our legs wobble like jelly. This was our first time out
on a Moped, so our legs were not used to the experience and didn’t
know how to adapt. Before going into the building, we stood our
ground and waited for the feeling to come back into our legs. Once
we were confident that we could walk, we went towards the main
building.

The main building was a large
glass dome like structure. Just outside of the building was a large
pole. On the pole were large illuminated signs which featured logos
of food chains and shops which were to be found inside: KFC, Burger
King, WHSmith and so on. Directly next door was a motel which was
simply a square building with lots of tiny rectangular windows.
This place wasn’t exactly grand architecture, then again most of
England looks as crummy as this.

We went inside through the
glass double doors. Our bodies were warmed instantly by the
fantastic central heating system. The doors behind us shut, keeping
out the cold air. Inside it was like a miniature version of a
shopping centre. There was a large selection of food establishments
to choose from. Luckily, as I hadn’t taken off my jacket since I
came home from school, I still had my wallet in my pocket. This
meant that, for tonight at least, we’d get a decent meal. After
this we’d have to think of some way that we could earn some money
for food.

The entire service station was
empty expect for one table in front of Burger King. The owners of
the cars outside must had been in the motel or something. At the
table were a group of men in their early twenties. They were
dressed stylishly in skinny jeans, leather jackets and rock n’ roll
t-shirts. They were like the drippy band at school, except these
guys actually pulled off the look. One of them had a black guitar
case leaning against their chair, on the guitar case was a sticker
which said: Purple Skull.

Lizzie and me got some burgers
and sat down on the table next to the lads in leather. They were
moaning about something. As we munched away hungrily on the fatty
foods, I couldn’t help but listen in. It turned out that these
blokes were a band and Purple Skull was what they called
themselves. I found this out from the back of one of the lad’s
t-shirts. He wasn’t dressed like the others, obviously a technician
or something. He wore a black shirt which on the back said: Purple
Skull – UK Tour – 2012, it then listed all of the venues that the
band would be visiting. The argument they were having was over the
fact that the bassist, Stewie, had just bought a new bass that
wouldn’t fit into the van.

“
You could’ve
at least told us about it!” said a band member, with black hair and
tanned skin,

“
I did tell
you!” insisted Stewie, getting aggravated, “the old one broke on
stage, remember Stan?”

“
Yes I do
remember” piped in another member, who was twiddling a drumstick
between his fingers, “but I also remember that it was you who broke
it!”

“
We’ve told
you before Stew” said Stan, looking rather serious, “the reason
that The Who could smash up their instruments, was because they had
the money to buy lots of spare instruments and hire lorries to
store them all in. We told you not to do it, but you went and did
it anyway!”

“
I just
thought it would be cool” explained Stewie, “that’s all, didn’t
know it would turn out to be such an issue”

“
The problem
is” said the man with the drumstick in his hand, “that you went and
bought a monster of a bass guitar, that doesn’t fit in the back of
the bloomin’ van! You said that you’d meet us up here because you
were going into town to get something. If I’d known you were going
for that, I’d have dragged you up here”

“
We need to
get to our next venue” said the fourth member, who had been sipping
at a straw this whole time, “we need to get settled in, find our
hotel and get ready for the gig in the evening. So, let’s stop
squabbling and figure out how we’re going to transport that
guitar”

“
What if we
strap it on top?” suggested Stewie,

“
You crazy
man!?” said the drummer, “if that comes undone during the journey,
not only will it fly off, but smash through the windscreen of the
car behind us and kill the driver! Haven’t seen that movie
The Decent
? Do you want
that to happen?”

“
No” answered
Stewie, “it was just a suggestion”

“
It was a daft
suggestion wasn’t it?” added the fourth band member, “what we need
is a second vehicle, but we don’t have one do we?”

“
I can help” I
piped in all of a sudden, surprising Lizzie as well as myself, “if
you need a hand. We’ve got a Moped outside. We could strap it on
and ride alongside you”

The band and the technician in
the black shirt turned around in their seats to look at me. They
looked me up and down. Of course, because of my appearance, they
were not sure whether or not to trust me. I could tell by the way
they were glaring at me and curling their lips, that they were
wondering if I was planning to steal the guitar or not.

I wasn’t really sure why I
spoke up when I did. In fact, I still don’t know why I did it. I
and Lizzie had no plans on what to do with ourselves after running
away from St. Ians. We had nothing on our schedule and these blokes
needed a helping hand. We had an overwhelming amount of time on our
hands so, I just thought, why not? It would give us something to
do. It certainly would put a nice start to our little trip.

Lizzie nudged me. I turned to
her. She gestured with her hand for me to lean in, so she could
whisper something to me. I obeyed and leaned towards her. She put
her mouth to my ear and said quietly:

“
What’s your
game?”

“
I just
thought these guys might need our help” I answered coolly, “if we
go along with them, then at least we’d have somewhere to go. I’d
rather do that then ride around mindlessly on that bike, vaguely in
the direction of London, until we run out of fuel.”

“
I suppose it
makes sense” said Lizzie, still unsure, “but like, what if they
ditch us?”

“
Then we’ll
find somewhere else to go” I said with a smile, “this will be the
starting line. The first step, if you like. Then we can figure out
what to do from that point onwards. What do you think?”

“
I think your
mad” said Lizzie, “but then again, being mad is better then being
normal and boring”

“
That’ a
girl!” I replied, giving her a wink.

I could tell that the band
members still were not sure about me. This wasn’t just because of
how I was dressed. In Britain, it’s considered weird when a
complete stranger offers you help. We cannot offer help to our
fellow man without being accused of being some sort of freak. I was
pretty keen on the idea, but I was also worried that the band would
think I’m some sort of nutter.

“
Why would you
want to help us?” asked Stewie, “who are you anyway?”

“
My name is
Aaron Connor” I said, as calmly as I could, “I overheard you guys
and I just thought that you might need a hand. Before you even
suggest it, I’m not going to try and nick it. I’m not that kind of
guy. I stole the Moped off of someone, but mind that was my first
time at stealing and the person who originally owned it was a
bastard anyway. Other than that, I promise you that I’m a
trustworthy bloke. So, what do you guys think?”

“
Still not
sure mate” said Stewie with a scowl, “can’t trust you bloody
hoodies. Once our back is turned you’ll rampage our van and be off
with everything! Why should we trust you?”

“
On my word” I
said,

“
It’s weird”
said Stan, raising an eyebrow to me, “you dress like a chav, you
have the accent of a chav, but have the vocabulary of a scholar.
What happened? Is like, your Mum Vicky Pollard and your Dad Stephen
Fry!? It makes no sense. I like you though. Sure, you can carry the
bass for us”

Stewie darted a nasty look
towards Stan. Stan ignored these looks. Even though this was a long
shot and Stewie’s guitar was on the line, there was something about
me that he liked. I don’t know what it was. Maybe he could tell
that I wasn’t the massive dick as my appearance would suggest. I
knew I was going to get reactions like this wherever I go.
Nonetheless I was adamant to changing my look. It was comfortable,
it was durable and it was practical.

It was then that I made a key
decision which would change the course of this entire road trip. I
was fed up of people grouping guys together and guessing how they
will be based on how they look. My plan was this: by the end of
this trip, I wanted to change the attitudes of a least a few
people. To make them think differently about their preconceptions
of blokes like me. My plan, as impossible as it may have sounded at
that point, was to abolish the word “chav” once and for all. I
wanted to get rid of that word, or at least change what it
means.

The idea was that I was going
to change people’s minds by being a good guy. I was going to help
as many people as I could. I was going to add something to society,
whether or not I knew the people I was helping. I must have been
mad to think that that alone would help to abolish the word “chav”
or change its definition. Then again, as I said before, I had no
real plans for the future in the usual sense. I’d liked to think
that I was going to spend the time I had here on this Earth doing
some good, maybe even making a difference. Even if I don’t make a
difference and nothing changes after I leave this world, it’s the
thought that counts. Stan’s open minded nature was my ticket to
beginning this mission. Stan, if you’re reading this book, cheers
mate, I owe you one!

I stood up, walked over and sat
down at their table. Lizzie didn’t move at first. She looked a bit
annoyed that I went ahead with my idea without passing it by her.
Eventually she realised that she couldn’t get out of it now, the
dye was already cast, so reluctantly she got up and sat down next
to me. Stan started to introduce the band members to me.