Our Origin
Hi, my name’s Vince. The year was 1976, and the only thing hotter than the summer sun in Swindon, Wiltshire, was my burning desire for two wheels and a dirt track. Bikes back then were a different breed. My first love was a fire-engine red Raleigh Chopper, a classic for cruising around my local estate. But my heart belonged to the wild ones – the so-called “trackies” we built ourselves in the field behind the estate.
These weren’t your fancy mountain bikes of today. Imagine mismatched frames, salvaged bits and bobs, and the biggest, knobbiest tires you ever saw (we called them “noblies” back then, fancy that!). Helmets? Forget it. Brakes? Well, a questionable rear brake might exist to slow you down on a particularly hairy bend, but stopping on a sixpence wasn’t exactly an option. Safety? Well, let’s just say we embraced the thrill with open arms – or should I say, scraped knees?
Back then, the local track was our kingdom. A network of dirt jumps, muddy slopes, and heart-stopping descents, all carved by our own fearless hands. We’d spend hours tinkering with our bikes, pushing the limits of what these Frankenstein creations could do. Sure, we took spills, plenty of them. But the adrenaline rush, the camaraderie with fellow dirt demons – it was pure, unadulterated freedom.
Looking back, those makeshift trackies and our daredevil antics were a far cry from the sleek, high-tech machines and gravity-defying stunts of today’s mountain bikers. But you know what? We laid the groundwork. We were the pioneers, the ones who discovered the joy of conquering the terrain on two wheels, fear be damned.
Fast forward to today, and you can find at MTB Hippo, a haven for all things mountain biking. We’ve got the latest gear, sure, but we never forget the spirit of those early days. We call ourselves “gravity riders” now, pushing the boundaries of what’s possible on a bike. And every time I see a kid shredding a trail with a wild grin, I know the legacy of those muddy, brake-less trackies lives on.