Tony Lars HANSEN (Anker)

Tony Lars HANSEN (Anker)

21 November 1968 - 3 April 2021

Tony Lars HANSEN (Anker)

Service Details

74 Daniel street, Kaingaroa Forest
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Tragically taken from us.

Sunrise on the 21/11/68 Sunset on the 3/4/21

Loving partner of Justine and father of Anker and Barachois. Loved by all his Whānau.

Tony will lay at rest at his home 74 Daniel street, Kaingaroa Forest, until Wednesday 7/4/21. He will be buried at the Kaingaroa cemetery.

The Whānau welcome you to their home to farewell Tony.

Messages

  1. We began riding motorbikes together when we were 15. You on your AG100 and me on my DT125. Pathetic but we had wheels! You helped my buy my first car when we were 16 (Prince Gloria). We towed it back to your place, poured petrol down the carby and almost wet ourselves when it actually started. We tried our first ‘smoke’ together (obtained from Robbo’s older sister’s boyfriend). I got drunk for the first time with you, siphoning off your dad Anker’s whiskey in eggcups then refilling with water. Anker and Lorraine were like second parents to me, never complained when watching me out their sunroom window whilst I ‘watered’ their garden during an after match function or feeding me cold meat toastie pies. You were always there when we were trying to make it with the ladies (usually driving) but never making the cut yourself. Little did they know, you were actually the better catch. I got in my first rumble with you, thankfully with you on our side. We played in the first fifteen together, sharing our bruises in the shower and our shame when the coach caught us ‘smoking.’ We were coerced together into joining the end of year production of Oliver in our final year at school (being tough rugby types) supposedly only for the bar scene but ended up skipping down the hall singing and dancing but also have the best time of our brief school lives. We got our first jobs about the same time. You at the carpet wholesalers and me and the plumbing wholesalers. I’d come round and eat lunch at your warehouse then we’d jumped all over the rolls of carpet upstairs like a couple of school kids. Man, we’d put our wages to good use on Friday nights with a $12.95 swapacrate from the Whitehouse and deep fried mushrooms and sweetbreads from Californian Fried Chicken. I loved spending Saturday mornings with you test driving cars (real cars) from the car lots just for a lark. Remember that matt black 440 Valiant hardtop? You flooring it on the road to Bluff and the accelerator wedging under a nut on the floor? Me in the passenger seat steering whilst you fiddled on the floor. Man that thing screamed when I shifted it into neutral. We were a couple of pale faces when we returned that car. I never said it at the time but I’m sorry mate. Sorry I left and joined the Navy. We were only 18 but I just had to get out of there. Invercargill, parents, drink and smoke. It all got too much for me but I know it hurt you. I should have told you sooner but I didn’t know how too. We were just kids. I always regretted how that turned out. But we got back together in our early twenties in Lower Hutt and then Waikanae and had another wild time. Our first ‘trip’ and off to the big smoke on Friday night. I’ve never laughed so much in all my life whilst eating granny smith apples in Cuba mall. Your first ‘serious’ move in girlfriend. The three of us crammed in the front of your old man’s Kingswood that I bought of him only to discover that he’d bogged with concrete. Or that bloody Triumph Spitfire that you painted for me twice at Kerry’s. You looked the business in it though. So many stories. That trip to the Brass Monkey on our bikes where I picked you out of the ditch after you went arse over handlebars. Then that other time when you wrapped your bike around the lamppost in Waikanae and the ambo couldn’t believe you didn’t break. Strong bones. Or that time we visited Ricky in Chch when he had his solo speedway crash and he asked us to leave the hospital first thing in the morning as we stunk of booze. We’d been up all night drinking Bacardi and then nicked a slab from the train station first thing in the morning. You had already left for Aus when I had my fatal motorcycle crash (resuscitated). I left hospital and hooked up with your ex. Strange times. A world ago.

    Motorcycles have always been a part of our lives. But it seems they’ll always get you in the end. I’m still riding Tony but that’s it. I’m done. I photographed my bike today (just an old 1974 BMW R60) and I’m selling it. I can’t do it anymore. We stated together, we’ll end together. My young 18 month old son Rollie, who you never met, but who is mad for bikes wouldn’t understand but I want to be around to tell him some of the stories we made together. So I’m hanging up the helmet. I’ve done enough. I’ve got my memories and stories. If your sons Anker and Barachois want to hear some of them, I’m happy to share them. They’re probably not for public consumption though.

    So the story ends here mate. You were like a brother to me. My best friend. We moved on and lost tough as people do but I have the memories. The last time we meet was in Rotorua just after you’d moved back with Justine. We went to a Macca’s of all places and you were worried about how your boys would grow up back there. If they’re half as decent as you were Tony then they’d be alright by me. And sorry we never meet Justine but he was very proud of you. He spoke of being very lucky to have you. So you would know what a special person Tony was. So sorry you’ve lost him so young. It wasn’t meant to happen that way but it did. He was a good man.

    Absolutely gutted I can’t fly over from Melbourne for the funeral. Will watch the live stream if there is one or else I’ll take one final ride with Tony and listen to the ZZ Top ‘Deguello’ CD he gave me all those years ago. I do have hundreds of photos of Tony from school days, teenagers and into our twenties. I always had the camera out it seems. My mother Carol also has a box of Tony’s high school year photos and rugby photos. He left them with her during one of his moves. She also sends her condolences. I’ll try and forward them. Wish I could share some of the photos here but I’ll try and quickly set up a Flickr site or something. They’re pretty wild.

    Shaun

    Shaun Dennis, Melbourne

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