I've just noticed the bit right at the bottom about being dropped off at the Falcon Inn, pretty sure that was a Hells Angel pub. They must have loved a load of smelly hippies turning up looking confused.
Hell's Angels....yikes, you never quite knew what you'd get with these boys. My scariest memory, puttling past Mannington Farm on my scooter at night, on my way to sure fire thing in Broad Town, and getting slapped by a chain from a group who were squatting in aforementioned place.
Those who know the farmhouse might be puzzled, but in 69, the bridge in Wootton Bassett Road by Running Horse....marked the edge of Swindon going west, a quiet country lane, then led to Bassett. I thought I'd be sacrificed by cooking in a vat of sump oil if caught....the old Li never went faster