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Don McDouall was evacuated from London during World War II when he was five years old. He was sent to the small country village of East Hanney to live with Grans and Grampy at a house called Tamarisk. When the war ended nobody came to take him home and he was sent to a children's home. When the children's home closed he was given the choice of returning to Tamarisk or to live in another home, he chose Tamarisk. He now lives in Australia.
One particular winters morning I was driving a tractor along the road back towards the village after working in the fields. It was about seven thirty and very, very foggy. As I slowly drove down the road I could hear a motorbike coming up the road behind me.
Through the fog came this 'Le-velocette' motorcycle that looked like a cross between a motorised scooter and a clumsy pushbike. Something I wouldn't be seen dead on!
The motorcyclist was travelling very slowly. The vehicle got nearer and nearer and then to my amazement ran straight into one of the tractors rear tyres. On impact the motorbike bounced off the tyre and the rider flew up and over the tractor landing with a dull thud on the road in front of me.
I got off the tractor as quick as I could and found the rider lying very still. I was sure the rider was dead! I dragged the bike to the side of the road then dragged the man, who I now realized wasn't dead, onto the grass verge and then parked the tractor up on the bank.
In dense fog I ran down the road to the policeman's house. Constable Lucas was the local policeman and I told him what had happened. We had to wait while he pumped up his bike tyres then the he realised that it was too foggy to ride the bike anyway so we walked back up the road!
Well you wouldn't believe it but we actually walked past the tractor and motorbike without seeing either, it was that foggy! When we finally got to the gate where I had came out of earlier in the morning I realised we had gone too far. Constable Lucas was telling me off good and proper accusing me of making the story all up. I was now wishing I had just left the silly man on the motorbike where he had fallen off!
Then I saw the tractor with the motorbike lying on its side but there was no sign at all of the rider! We looked in the ditch and called out but we couldn't find him anywhere.
When we returned to the policeman's house we found the injured rider being cared for by the policeman's wife who was washing his cuts and bruises! He was soon accusing me of running him down and said I had been on the wrong side of the road!
He looked at me in complete astonishment when I told him what had really happened and I could see he didn't believe me. It was after he told the policeman that he had been coming from Garford that he realised I was going the same way as he had been!
Don McDouall, Australia, 2001
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