THE wheels turned quickly while we were on holiday - the bogie's back better than ever.

You may recall that there'd been a little accident with our new bogie -ECHO 1 - while yours truly was in the driving seat a few weeks back. She'd careered out of control on a hill in our village, sending our youngest head-first into a nettle patch.

Well, miracles do happen and she's risen from the ashes. New, stronger pram wheels, reinforced side panels, new lick of paint and - a nice touch in view of what happened - a first-aid kit complete with nettle rash cream.

All courtesy of chief bogie designer, work colleague and fellow dedicated dad John Pattison. Mind you, even the medical equipment won't persuade the little 'un to have another go.

Anyway, last time round we asked for your own bogie memories and it's been downhill all the way ever since. Here's a selection...

MONICA Elliott, of Ingleton, near Darlington, fondly remembers her brother making a bogie in Quarrington Hill, County Durham, about 70 years ago.

It began as a fairly conventional model but it was gradually built up to the point where it was a double-decker with a roof. Very posh.

"The path where we lived had a good slope so the kids had great fun," wrote Monica. "It was even better when the snow was frozen hard.

"There were no cars to worry about in those days."

But disaster is never far away with bogies and the problems started when Monica's brother decided to give the boy next door a ride. The boy happened to have thick, blond, unruly hair.

"I don't know how it happened but somehow he got his hair caught up in the works," Monica said.

The boy ran home screaming, with a new Bobby Charlton hairdo and clutching a long chunk of blond hair in his hand.

ERNIE Reynolds' bogie was called Bluebird, after speed ace Donald Campbell's ill-fated boat.

Ernie now lives in Wheatley Hill, County Durham, but grew up in Middlesbrough, where old pram wheels were easy to get because they were often dumped in back alleys.

If the alleys were bereft, the Rag Shop scrapyard at the corner of Boundary Road and Station Street always had them for tuppence a pair. You could always return them and get a penny back.

The woodwork - mainly orange boxes - was obtained from the Co-op warehouse in Station Street or the horse and cart fruit sellers.

The big lads got the little lads to push them round for a couple of marbles or cigarette cards. A drag all the way to the park was worth a whole bag of marbles.

According to Ernie, the best driving position was to lie flat, with your hands on the axle, though a sharp turn sometimes meant scorch marks on the forearms.

Races to end arguments about who had the fastest bogie usually took place from Cannon Street to Denmark Street bridge.

Ernie's best bogie memory is one about the boy who used to tie the family dog to the front of his bogie and get free tows.

Unfortunately, one day, the bitch was on heat and every dog in the neighbourhood ended up hotfooting it after the boy on his bogie.

VICTOR Tumility, of Collingwood Walk, Hartlepool, said his memories of his own bogie came flooding back.

He recalled how, many moons ago, he and three friends clambered aboard his "bog standard" bogie at the top of a long, winding hill near Throston.

All was fine until the front wheel assembly came adrift and the four lads were catapulted into space: "One was unconscious - I thought he was dead - and we were all covered with gravel rash injuries," he said.

Young Victor was rushed off to hospital and ended up with his leg and arm in bandages.

"My mother sent me to the shop around the corner to show off my wounded body," said Victor. "What I'd forgotten about was the border collie in the back street that I teased daily. It would race after me, but I always managed to get out of its reach - just.

"Well, I'd never seen a dog smile but that one did. It came after me, knowing full well I couldn't run. All I could do was turn and face the wall when it sank its teeth into my bum.

"The bogie remained in the ditch. For all I know, it may still be there."

Victor grew up to be a father-of-four and now has 12 grandchildren and one great grandchild. The teeth marks have faded but he still has his gravel rash scars. "They're my war wounds," he said, proudly.

Inspired by all this bogie talk, he's just built one for his 11-year-old grandson Jason Lupton.

"It's canny," he said. "No brakes mind. Bogies don't have brakes - not in Hartlepool anyway."

Brakes or no brakes, the wonderful news is this: The bogie is back!