New Era

Eighties

Nineties

21st Century

The Edinburgh Blues Scooter Club

A New Era

Let me tell you about my first ever experience with what would eventually become that infamous band of merry men (no women at this point) - the Edinburgh Blues Scooter Club. It was sometime in mid '79, Quadraphenia had just hit the scene, The Merton Parkas, Secret Affair, The Quads, and some shit neo punk band called The Jim or The Jam or some other fruity hot cross filling! I had just acquired my first scoot, a cute wee silver, fur covered nifty fifty and I mean, was I or was I not the veritable bees knees! So there I was, minding my own business, heading down Party for a wee chinwag with some Mates (different connotations in the seventies!), or were they short haired pseudo beings from another facet of the same era… no, I'm sorry, they were Skinheads and I was probably heading for a 'tight going over'. Anyway, before I even get as far as Abbey hill, I turn this corner and there they were…. More of those bloody white lines!!! No not at all, who should come belting round the corner but some other geisers on a couple' scoots, about five or six I should think. You've got to appreciate that in those days there were (we later found out) only us lot and some other gadgy out Gilmerton way, ZZZZzzzzzZander Murray, that uncouth youth wi' the big mooth! (Only kiddin' Z old Mate (eighties connotations here I think!). It was one hell of a feeling I can tell you, in fact I am telling you, we thought we were IT. At this point in time we were going to any goddam disco (Yes I said disco) that would play at least five sixties numbers all night until we discovered a groovy wee place called Greenmans in a basement at the top of Broughton Street. It was a real kick then to see maybe 8 or 10 Scoots parked in the lane at the back. It was about this time that we had a meeting to officially form the Edinburgh Blues Scooter Club. The meeting was held at one of the lads' in Muirhouse. I think those present were the two Andys, Law, Youngie, Big John, myself and a few others whose names I can't remember and we got it together enough so that we even had the inaugural patch drawn by the end of the night. It was funny calling ourselves The Blues, named obviously after the pills although at times the name became larger than the club! I remember that the Blue Angels in Glasgow were out to get us because they thought we had stolen their name. That was a tense time! By this time we were well settled into our new meeting house which doubled as a dance hall for us on Fridays and a boozer for Joe Bloggs for the rest of the week. It was affectionately known as "The Abbey" or "The Abercorn" and there were no doubts in our mind that this was our territory! There were hundreds of scoots (Okay about twenty or thirty) outside it every weekend, it was amazing to watch those demi-gods of coolness scoot up to the Abbey, eye each other's scoots up, eye each other up, eye, eye, something's up! It might be worth telling you a funny story of the times. While coming back from one of the runs (no idea where, couldn't give a shit!), a few of us were stopped at Scotch Corner. (Yes, don't we seem to love that hellhole), sitting about trying to keep warm at about three in the morning. When who should appear round the corner other than about four large chops accompanied by a van full of some kind of Chapter (not Angels). Shit, did we crap ourselves or were my troosers always that colour? After dismally trying to hide three scoots and five bodies behind one petrol pump we eventually owned up to being there. It turned out that they were pretty hard-core bikers and were not in the least bothered about who or what we were, more about trying to evade the Police who had been following them down the motorway. They had amazing bikes and were amazing guys. Well, later in the year, outside the Abbey one night, someone runs into the disco shouting something about Angels. Angels everywhere and out for blood!!!! Being a very democratic bunch of peeps, we decided to send Youngie (our No. 1) over to check the scene, see whose blood they wanted and would his do instead? Who the hell does it turn out to be? None other than the Chapter we met at Scotch Corner several months earlier. It seems that the local outlaw club had called these guys up to sort us out after we had a 'free and frank exchange of views' with them up town one night. The Chapter realised what a lot of shit this was and left giving us a wee wave, never to be seen again. By this time we had been well indoctrinated into the Cams and Doccies side of the fashion world making life a lot easier on runs. I remember Youngie going down to a Number 1's meeting down south dressed like a pin and swearing a Mods life forever… and coming back four days later looking like some reject from the Territorial Army. We slagged him to shit (boy was he a touchy fucker) and sure enough within a week we were all wearing them (our own, not his!).

By Chris 'Chrome' Mulvey