He who walks with danger.

I have a secret identity that no one knows about, not my friends, not my family, no one, well it wouldn’t be secret if they did would it? I can reveal to the world that my alter ego is that of X-man. Yes I was the first X-man or woman for that matter. It all started with a school Christmas party. I was in the second year at Spurley Hey High school and eager to try out my chat up lines at the Christmas bash. They didn’t seem very effective during the day, but I thought that perhaps with the music and flashing lights of the first Christmas party where I didn’t have to have my name cellertaped to a spoon and plate they might work.

The night of the party (make that late afternoon) my plans were to be scuppered by the arrival of a vision in red and black velvet. There before me stood Eugene Smith a girl I had always thought gorgeous. She took my breath away, the result of which I could hardly speak let alone chat anyone up, however the night was not wasted; we started a friendship that lasted long enough for me to realise that some women were princesses. During the time that we were close she invited me for a bike ride, that’s going to be difficult I told her, as I didn’t have a bike, she offered me the use of her Mothers bike a very bohemian woman who I believe used to be a ballet dancer.

The bike ride was an enjoyable event spent in the company of an enjoyable girl, unfortunately the proceedings were marred by the taunting's of a couple of my mates who had seen me sat astride a ladies machine. I protested of course that I was only using it because mine had a puncture, but I wasn’t believed, and I made things worse by telling the taunter's that the bike I didn’t really have was the mother of all bikes and could easily beat anything they had.

One particular chap who was fond of putting bangers in dog turds challenged me to a race to decide who had the best bike. I agreed and the race was scheduled for Saturday morning, this meant as it was Tuesday that I had four days to produce a bike that would save my dwindling reputation.

I set about begging, borrowing and stealing all the bits I needed to build my super bike, given the time and resources that I had it would have put the A-team to shame. By Friday night I had everything but brakes. Ken from next door came to the rescue with a back peddling brake, that’s a back wheel that you pedal backward to brake, odd I know but it did work.

Saturday morning came and I was ready, the machine glinted bright yellow in the sun, and though I say so myself it looked the part. The saddle was a little uncomfortable but I didn’t plan on spending too much time on it, I was going to win this race……or die!!!!!

Those that knew about this great event had already gathered along East road and Mamby road where the race was to be run, a distance of some two hundred yards. There were two bends along the rout, a gentle curving bend where East road met and continued as Mamby road, and another almost ninety degree bend where the finish line was.

We lined up level and at the command we were off, my adversary got away quicker than I did as my bike was geared down. As we neared the first bend he slowed down to get round it, but I who had thrown all caution to the wind kept peddling through the bend and managed to pull alongside him.
We were on the strait now and my legs were killing me, but I just peddled harder, he pulled in front, I pulled in front, it was neck and neck. Then from somewhere I found my second wind and just powered past him like a speeding bullet, he had started to slow down, I thought because he knew he was beaten, but it was for an altogether different reason. We were fast coming up to the second bend, which very definitely could not be taken at speed.

I made an instinctive grope for my brake levers, which of course didn’t exist on this particular model, I looked down in horror at the bare handlebars bereft of even a bell, and started to furiously back pedal for all I was worth, but to no avail. I hit the very high pavement edge and was launched into space at god knows what speed into the direction of two very nasty looking gate posts. It was almost aesthetic, the bike and I were one, and not as we sailed through the air but after we hit the posts and lay in a tangled mass on the floor.

There was blood and snot everywhere, anything that could have broken did, and it took not a little help from my very impressed friends to untangle me from what now looked like something Salvador Dali could have painted.

Man (or boy) had merged with machine and become X-man. Wherever there was tyranny, wherever there was unjustness, and wherever there was a citizen in need of help I would be. My career as a superhero didn’t actually start for quite a few years. But for a long time after that fateful day I did speak with rather a high pitched voice, and as I wheeled my broken machine home with the handlebars bobbing up and down because of the miss shaped front wheel, I knew my destiny was set.