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

Thursday, 22 March 2012

 the polo is in for the dreaded emm-ohh-tee, i need to use up my annual leave or lose it, i'm up at 0500, quick brew, slice of holy ghost and i'm in mrs b's motor dropping off the boy jack at work, home for 0645, 'nother brew, double egg-on-toast and walk the dog's, it's one of those day's in england, cold, frosty, sunny, but, with a slightly misty 'ting and 'ting, walk up to the venture garage, have the crack with the lads, i get my m.o.t, there's a list as long as my arm, 'you're in for a world of pain next year youth if you don't get it sorted or fuck it off' i heed richard's warning, i've done well out of the old girl and it doesn't owe me diddly, but, today, i'm happy that i'm legal again, quick shower and the dangerous one turn's up on his mates 'whorenet' thing, we make the fifty mile sprint down through middle-england, skirt the mighty metropolis that is derby, drop onto the a6, into shardlow, the river is very low i note as we wait at the light's on cavendish bridge, into donington, yep, that donington, past the race track and i nearly get 't' boned by a dozy twat on a hyabusa pulling out of the museum, through breedon, lount, coleorton and stop for fuel in shepshed, the blossom is starting to show on the tree's, the green shoot's of spring, the sap's rising, the smell of turned earth and cut-grass, my favourite time of year, past bosworth field, the site of the thirty-two year battle for the crown of england that saw henry vii defeat king richard, turn left, a mile down the road and we are at another famous site, mallory park, the home of the post tt races, the transatlantic series and a certain battle between an italian gentlemen, mr agostini and a local boy, john 'mooneye's' cooper, park up and a visit to the cafe for liquid refreshment, we sit in the early spring sunshine, drinking tea, listening to the sound of singles and twin cylinder motorcycles being thraped to within an inch of their lives, my finger's are white, a combination of the cold and the vibration from the the sporty, the hot tea cup offer's some relief and the blood starts to fill my empty veins and capillaries, pumping, throbbing......


  1. Ah that explains seeing the unusual sight of 2 familiar faces turning off to Aston not waving to the Jap bike riders

  2. You lucky, lucky bastard . . . surrounded by legendary tracks, steeped in rich history . . . and what 'ave I got Lovey ??? Fucking Movie World and way too many fifty year old chicks looking like they've O.D'd on silicone and spray tans . . . bastard I say !!!