another perfectly good motorcycle ruined.......

Monday, 31 May 2010


dangerous, cardboard cut out, drill, miller, slash and burn, two perfectly symmetrical mudguard mounting brackets, centres milled for lightness.

tiger woods called in for a brew today, he was a bit fed up, the whole media thing has been getting him down recently, he cheered up a bit when i told him that forest had fucked up in the play-offs and that i'd renewed his season ticket for the mighty rams, he's taking his cbt soon and is looking forward to passing his test and getting a harley so he can come to matlock with us rather than going in the limo, he laughed when i reminded him about dicking him on pirate pete's crazy golf course in florida.






bank holiday monday at the loveless race corporation headquarters or 'the shed' as we call it, mad john round compounding the paint on the racer project, mick from next-door-but-four lending a 12mm fine thread die for a job on his trike, barse and gordie turn up mid afternoon, gordie on his immaculate four-speed sporty and barse on his punk-rock shovelhead, forgot just how tiny the shovels are, kettle didn't get cold today, dangerous grafting away making the lovely front mudguard mountings, slots milled in for lightness and detail on something you won't even see, big up lads, thank you.







dangerous and me set off around twelvish, destination the classic bike club meeting at stanford hall near lutterworth, it's about a sixty mile ride, you could just jump on the m1 and squirt down there but we don't do motorway if we can find an 'a' road instead, anyway, we were out on the ducati's so we needed to find some bends, through the urban sprawl of derby and soon into the countryside, through melbourne, into peggs green and we are making our way south, past mallory park and into hinckley, always get lost here and usually end up going past the triumph factory, this time i stuck to the town centre signs and we picked up the a5, i reckon we saved about 10 miles going directly through town rather than using the bloody ring road, into lutterworth, loads of bikes about, picked up the brown tourist signs for stanford hall, payed the six quid fee and parked up, loads of lovely bikes there, loads of autojumble stands and a nice day but, no people?, strange, over a tea and a chunk of home made fruit cake off one of the stalls i mulled it over, i reckon the classic scene as we know it may be over, as the old boys die off their bikes are put in museums or sold to oversea's collectors, the kids aren't interested in old stuff, their classic bikes are the first 'blades or slabby gixers and the like, but what is really killing it is that most of the bikes there were trailered in, the vincent was a case in point, there was a crowd standing around it slack jawed, looking at it like it was the holy grail , i shouted to dangerous 'it would look mint with a peanut tank and ape's youth', they looked at me like i was satan, whats the matter with you?, it's a fucking motorcycle,
lighten up a bit, talk to people about your bikes instead of basking in the glory of winning a fucking horse rosette and of course, you could always go for a ride on it now and again.