Eccentric or bohemian - my 'Last of the Summer Wine' experience

So there I was wondering where my true bohemia of artists, authors and musicians might be hidden away in some far off place when the doorbell rang.

It was an old guy (yep, even older than me) who lives nearby and has a very old motorbike. When I say very old, I mean really very old, as in early 1900s. It's his hobby to tinker with things and make them work and old things need more tinkering than new things so buying old things keeps him pretty happy.

His latest acquisition is an old motorbike from the time before starter motors were invented. To start this motorbike means running along and then jumping on it at the right moment and engaging the thingummy to the whatsemecallit. (I'm not really technical on mechanical things, in case you hadn't noticed). Which is all very well, if you are young, fit and athletic. Not perhaps ideal for old geezers in their 60s and pulling a pension.

Anyway, so I said "Hi how's it going?" and he said could I press a button on a device in his back garden while he did something on this old motorbike.

It turned out that the device I had to press was mounted on an old converted electric mobility scooter which used two large batteries to turn two rollers. The idea was that the motorbike back wheel rested on the two rollers and when I pressed my special button, the rollers rolled around and the old motorbike would start without him having to push it along the road.

Well, it didn't. He sat on the motorbike on top of this rolling road. I felt scared as to whether I might be electrocuted by all the bare wires that were waving around. Bravely, I pressed the button wondering what would happen if the motorbike kicked into action and the back motorbike wheels started to drive the rolling road. The rollers turned around. More scary thoughts from yours truly who normally thinks picking up a pen is an adventure. More wobbling from my friend balanced on this old motorbike on this lash up rolling road.

But the motorbike wouldn't start.

Fifteen minutes later, he decided he needed a mark 2 version so, to get him started, I pushed him on this old motorbike down the road.

Fortunately, it started before I was too far in the direction of the next town and I retired back to the safety of my office and laptop while he roared happily off into the distance.

All of which brought to my mind the English sit com 'Last of the Summer Wine'.

So is eccentric the same thing as bohemian?

If it is then perhaps where I already live is actually quite bohemian. In addition to inventive old motorbike enthusiasts, there are artists (probably), musicians (I know quite a few because I play music with them) and a small writers circle (which I've never introduced myself to). So why am I looking further afield?

I dunno. To me, there is a difference. Quaffing coffee in a packed meeting place with friends who want to talk about metaphor and transliteration just grabs me as more interesting than risking life and limb around a rusty old motorbike on an improvised rolling road.

Am I wrong?

Bye for now

Rob