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

Wednesday, 11 April 2012

sitting in the shed, drinking tea and the dog's on 'their' chair, i'm feeling better at last, i'm looking at the boxer project up on the bench and suddenly it hit's me just how bad does the rear wheel look?  can't live with the boring 'standard' [not to the r65, but the r80/ r100 rear rim compared to the front flanged race pattern akront and the brake drum is hideous, even with the lightening holes / vent holes drilled in it] i pick up a copy of  'old bike mart' and scan the adverts, well, what do you know?, there's only someone selling one in derby, quick phone call confirm's he's still got it, a cryptic conversation ensue's but i decide to drag the sporty out of the shed and have a ride down to the 'address' ['turn into ++++++++++ street, even though the address is round the corner, there's a hole in the fence, ride up the bank and you'll see my van parked up'] fucking-hell, here we go, dodgy as fuck, but, me being me, i've got to go and have a look, i slip my gerber quick opener into my pocket just in case and have a pleasant saunter down into derby, i don't recognise the road, but, the area is familiar, apparently, i'm on 'lara croft' road, yep, that lara croft, the playstation priestess and the fantasy of millions of teenage gamer's back in the day, [and a few old-timer's if the truth be known, i couldn't go to bed without leaving our la-la safe, ahem], i don't alway's get it when barse talk's about riding through the city, but, today i do, the rumble of the sporty exhaust and the induction noise as the big mickey-runi suck's at the ether through the open bell mouth, [vellor-city-staaak for our american reader's, keith lemon, genius!] it's a lovely spring day, cold and fresh but sunny, great for smashing the sales rep's ego's in their ford blandeo's away from the light's, slow down, let them pass and do it again at the next set, infantile i know, but, just so much fun, i find the hole in the fence and ride up the bank into the 'yard', there's a ramp down to an old mill building, i stop the sporty, take my helmet off and put it on the seat, my hands in my pocket, thumb skimming the button on the gerber as i walk into the gloom, there's two old duffer's sitting on mismatched, old, floral, filth-caked, dumped chair's drinking tea from mug's that you don't need a tea-bag in to make a brew, i relax instantly, 'ey up youth, we're on a break, be with you in ten minutes, have a poke 'round if you want....' brilliant, i reckon they haven't had a customer in years and 'their on a break' i try and take in the stuff in the forty-watt light, bloody hell, it's rammed, floor to ceiling, racking groaning under the weight of part's, there's bikes and old side-car outfit's everywhere, a lot of pre-war stuff, emw, bmw, mz's, a norton inter race bike, ducati singles, old triumph's, a barn find velo and flat-tanker's that i can't even recognise,  you literally have to pick your way through the piles of crankcases, cylinder heads and frames, tank's, wheel's, new 'old stock' tyres that would be lethal if you fitted them to your bike, hard and brittle but still bearing the manufacturer's original sticker's, it's a goldmine, i can't believe it, 'right youth, we're ready', they are standing behind me and i didn't even hear them, both looking at me through smudged, thick-framed glasses, hanging on the end of their nose's, i pick out the best stroke five three-ribbed hub from the proffered good's, haggle over the price, pay the cash-money and bid them a fond farewell, i can't tell you where they are i'm afraid, i've found the holy grail me, i stash my prize in my rucksack and don my yellow plastic safety glasses and cromwell helmet combo, they watch me start the sporty and stand waving like a pair of aunties waving off their favourite nephew as i ride through the hole in the fence and down the gravel bank, as i ride away i'm struck with the thought that there must be places like this all over the country, co-existing with modern society but as underground and alien as it's possible to be, deal's done on a nod and a handshake and treasures only to be shared with other people who, who? well just get it.........


  1. Ey up youth . . . well done son, what a score !! Good to see you're no longer driving the porcelain bus . . . wonderful yarn mate and some inspiring shots to boot, what the fuck is going on with that other major component, what was it . . . ah, yes, the bloody motor ??? Saw the Mary Chain five odd years ago at the Virgin Fest, unreal, had fears they wouldn't sound dirty and distorted, no wuckers at all, it was Filth City . . . band of the day went to the Dolls, greatest hits package done with humour, honesty and real NYC sleaze, only two of the old bastards still alive but the ring ins were well chosen . . . keep those good ol boys on side Lovey, veritable treasure trove you've got there mate, get that Bimmer sorted and the world's slowest engine builders, big respect mate, Whitey. XX

  2. Reminds me of getting invited "behind the counter" in Gaggs in Nottingham after a couple of years of almost weekly visits. Like going to heaven!