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

Saturday, 30 June 2012

boxer racer project

 a thousand pound's, that's two week's wages for me, or to break it down ninety hour's of collar, it's a lot of money, a lot of hard earned cash, early get-up's, no dinner's and a lot of soul searching, we need a new fridge/freezer, i need to decorate the house, we need a family holiday, instead, i pay it out, [with my family's blessing, they know how much it mean's to me] to get my boxer engine blueprinted so that it's reliable and safe to shake down the racebike before i go for it properly next season, no point in beating around the bush, me and dangerous strip the motor this afternoon and what i've found has dissapointed me to the core, my 'carefully assembled and blueprinted engine, three angled valve job, ported and gas flowed engine, new valves, spring's seals and gasket's, push button, bullet-proof engine' turn's out to be nothing like, it's a crock of shit, hastily thrown together with no care or attention to detail, no new valves, the valve spring's on one cylinder fitted upside down, [they are marked with paint to indicate which end is seated against the inside of the cylinder head], no porting or gas flowing, pushrod seal's pressed in on the piss, crankshaft seal hammered in, valves leaking when filled with petrol, no fancy valve seat cutting here, not even a half arsed attempt at cleaning up the original item's, i'm gutted, dangerous sum's it up, 'you're not riding it to the pub youth, you're giving it the berry's round a racetrack, if it ain't built proper you or someone else is going to get hurt..............'



punk rock shovelhead



 barson and the punk rock shovel, 74 cubic inches of nastiness, [the point's cover is one i made out of alloy chequer plate year's ago, look closely for the japanese wedding kimono motif], rude, loud, oily and anti-social and as for the motorcycle? well, there lies another tale.......................................................

c.r.m.c. test day, mallory park.


 although our day was cut short prematurely on friday as a result of a serious oil leak it gave me and dangerous the chance to have a stroll around the pit's and have a gander at some of the tasty machines in attendance, one bike really caught my eye, a little 750cc ducati, the bike seemed familiar for some reason but i couldn't quite put my finger on it, the owner turned out to be the legendary ducati racer and tuner, paul klatkiewicz, what a lovely bloke, he patiently answered my questions and explained in lay-man term's the engineering that had gone into the bike, it's a genuine ducati factory racer, one of only six built, a genuine 80 plus honest bhp in a skinny-little-puppy-lightweight chassis, the last photo is why i thought it was familiar, [excuse the poor quality, i took a photo of alan cathcart's book, 'ducati. the untold story' from 1987, page 72, '... the factory's 750 f1 racer seen here at imola in a november test session for walter villa and tony rutter. chunky but effective'] we, really are not worthy.........

Friday, 29 June 2012

boxer racer project



 i'm awake at 0430hrs, i try and get another half hour but it's no good, 0450hrs, in the shower, tea, final check to make sure we have everything in the van, pick up dangerous at 0600hrs and off we go, grab a coffee from macceedee's on the way, heavy shower's and just as a contrast, squally shower's, not much conversation, we are parked up in the mallory park paddock at 0745hrs, sign on, brief at 0815 hrs, i'm out for the first session at 0920 hrs, bike won't start, i borrow a pair of jump leads and get the bike started, down to noise testing, 'sorry mate, your 108 decibel's, 105 decibel limit, you'll have to baffle it down a bit' fucking fuck, i make my way back to the paddock, dangerous drop's the megga's and i sprint over to ken's van to get some baffling material, we pack the pipes and i miss the first session, i go for the re-test, 'sorry mate, your
106 decibel's', ' mate, i've been working on this bastard since last october, you really aren't going to fail me for 1 decibel?' ,ok, i'll give you a sticker, but it's more than my jobsworth.....' at last, i'm in the pit-lane waiting for my session, a couple of the travelling marshall's have a look at the bike and give it the thumb's up, i ask one of them to drop in behind and just make sure nothing comes adrift, out onto the track, two steady lap's, keeping the rev's back to 5000rpm, warm up the tyres, feel's good, step it up a bit, 6500rpm, motor feel's a lot better, a tz 350 tries to outbrake me into edwina's and end's up going straight on, 5,6,7 lap's, confidence growing, the front brake is shite, the front fork's diving too much under heavy braking, no-problem and easily fixed, i peel off into gerrard's, the never ending right hander, there's a squirm from the back end, as it drift's around to the left, oh shit, here we go, i get ready for slip, slide, sky, earth, the bike straighten's up but the clutch slips as i try to select fourth, the marshall zip's past on his 'blade and indicates for me to follow him through the barriers at edwinas rather than going through the chicane, we pull off and he show's me the oil pissing out all over my rear tyre, i kill the motor and push it back through the pit's, quick diagnosis reveal's a blown crank seal, game over, could have been a lot worse if i'd tipped it into the left-hander at edwina's as my rear tyre was slipperier than a very slippy thing with extra added slippy stuff,  we are home for 1400hrs, i'm not dissapointed, i've learnt a lot today, never had any faith in the engine that my 'mate' had built, the chassis, bar a couple of tweek's is good, i'm in this for the long haul, if i have to sell my sporty to fund the racer then so be it, i'm hooked me, i've had another glimpse today of what life's all about, it's not standing about in pub car park's looking at road bikes, it's not being 'cool' it's not about getting your bike in 'dice' it's about racing, that's what it's all about, all of a sudden it hit's me, we won't make the festival of a thousand bikes next week, gutted..........

Thursday, 28 June 2012

boxer racer project



what a strange day, two day's annual leave booked off, lie in 'til 0700 hour's, [lazy bastard], i set off with the boy's, humid, short's, vest but i'm not stupid, north face pac-lite around my waist, baseball cap stuffed into my cargo pocket, we are five miles out, the sky darken's, i mean darken's, spooky, it feel's like the end of the world, lightning is flashing all around, deep, deep, rumbling thunder and then?, and then, it start's to rain, and i mean rain, think biblical, think cat's and dog's  think full-bore fire hose wetness, the corn in the field's fold's flat under the onslaught, i'm struggling to even take in oxygen, yep, it's that wet, home, towel the boy's off and they settle down in front of the tumble drier, stretching out in the warm air stream, yawning and sighing, gently stretching and grooming each other, i shower, change into dry clothes and head out to the shed, tea and dark chocolate biscuits, doe's it get any better than this, no work on a thursday, the weekend stretching forth, phone ring's, it's dangerous, 'ey up wanker, what you doing?', 'i'm in the shed youth, day off', 'get the kettle on, i'm on my way...' the next four hour's pass, fettling the racer, swapping jet's, dicking around with the ignition timing, the boxer run's, [rough] the boxer stop's, around 1600hr's i call it, the classic racing motorcycle club have a meeting this weekend, there's a practice day friday, quick phone call, there's places free, i phone lee at the van hire place to see if he's got anything free, yep, book it, pick it up, bike won't even start now, fuck it, too late now, van's loaded, too tired to bother now, sort it out tomorrow, night, night everybody........

national motorcycle museum


 another legendary bike at the national motorcycle museum is the double engined norton top fuel bike of ian messenger and derek chinn, i almost missed this slice of english drag racing history amongst the packed hall's, my heart skipped a beat when i saw it, it must be 30 year's since i've seen this machine, i alway's marvelled at how massive it looked, but, when i saw it again i couldn't believe how small it was, two norton twin's, shorrock's blower and massive s.u. carb's, all linked together with a plumber's nightmare of braided hoses, proper dangerous............

Wednesday, 27 June 2012

boxer racer project


thing's were getting a little 'fraught' tonight in the loveless shed, the boxer race project is off the bench and on the floor, the work bench back around to my-mum's-mavis's-shed-next-door-but-one, quick clean up, tool's back in the box and a sweep up, 'harry potter' or paul-the sparky-turn's up, muttering and connecting wires, 97 in the tank, fuel on and i get that sick in the stomach feeling, here we go then, choke on, ignition on press the button, nothing, the carb's are bone dry, press the button, nothing, check the timing, miles out, new plug's, press the button and fuck me it start's! rough as a badger's arse but we are running, the pipe wrap is smoking like a cigarette test centre beagle, i open both door's on the shed, chase the dog's down the street and round them up as i forget their out in the yard, time to fill the gearbox, shaft and diff with oil, proper crude, fill them 'til it leak's, leak's? more leaks than the torrey canyon, oil all over the shed floor, all over my rear tyre, all over the dog's, my barry sheene poster, everyfuckinwhere, dangerous snaps a jet off in the left hand carb, more stress, i just want to drink vodka, eat veggie hotdog's [with onion's and english mustard and listen to some ray charles] all of a sudden a little bobber pull's up on my drive, we all look at each other, it's simon, he walked past the loveless shed once with his little boy and talked to us about motorcycles, his bike is a honda cd200 rigid, cool as fuck, he's struggling to get the gearbox sprocket cover off his bike, me and dangerous do the world famous supreme team double act and remove the rusted cross head soft-as-cheese screw's, i get a couple of stainless socket heads out of stock and replace them for him, looking round the bike seem's to ground everyone, here's a cheap as chip's commuter bike that no-body gave a shit about turned into a cool little bike with the minimum of financial outlay, big up simon, i start up the boxer, i'm wearing short's and a t-shirt, converse, no gloves, no mot, no insurance, race tyres, it's getting dark, no light's, i ride the mile around the block, the tacho is jumping out of the fairing, the suspension mashing my kidney's, the jetting is miles out, the clutch slipping and you know what? i'm laughing like a fucking drain me............................................................................

national motorcycle museum



here's some norton's from the  national motorcycle museum last saturday, i've just been looking at the photo's i took from me and dangerous's day out, sweary mick and johnny owd bollock's turned up to have a look at the boxer project tonight, what a double act, they kept interrupting each other and owd bollock's look's at mick and say's 'through the chair mick, through the chair', i ask them what that's all about and apparently it's an old trade union saying from when they used to get shouted down at union meeting's back in the day, i tell them about our recent trip to the museum, moaning about the lack of a cafe to get a brew, mick look's at owd bollock's, owd bollock's look's at mick, 'there's a cafe upstair's you twat.....' oop's.........

Sunday, 24 June 2012

boxer racer project

 fitted the rear wheel today, picked it up from central wheel's saturday, it's one of my favourite bit's of the whole project, just a stock part milled to shit, proper dangerous.....

tattoo's


your either inked or you ain't.....

wes cooley #34

wes cooley and the yoshimura katana, just look at that motorcycle, sharp, dangerous, you just know it's going to hurt you, bad........

Saturday, 23 June 2012

4-real

 not sure what happened to the text that was supposed to accompany this photo of the manic's richie edwards, let's try again, richie was an enigmatic character, he was the driving force behind the manic street preachers, his lyric's drawing on his influences of his political and literal heroes, i can remember sneering at the manic's when i saw them on some tv programme, who the fuck did they think they were? 'you love us', cocky bastard's, by the end of the set i was converted, following an argument with the then new musical express journalist and now radio 6 dj, steve lamacq who questioned richey's commitment to the punk ethic he famously carved '4-real' into his arm with a razorblade........

national motorcycle museum




had to nip down to birmingham today to pick up the rear wheel for the loveless boxer twin project, on the drive down dangerous revealed that he had never been to the national motorcycle museum, less than four miles away from where we are picking the wheel up from, be rude not too wouldn't it? i had visited the museum many times before the fire in 2003 that destroyed many of the original hall's and exhibit's, brilliant that many of the bikes have been restored to as 'before fire' condition, i really couldn't take it all in on one visit, all of the british motorcycle's produced are here, my only critisism is that they are packed in too tight, please, if you get the chance, visit this place and support their effort's to keep the legend's alive, i can't post all the photo's i took, as you know, my main interest lies in the competition machines, please be patient, i've got load's of photo's to post of this amazing place.......

Friday, 22 June 2012

loveless chopper
















here's some photo's from back in the day, before choppers went mainstream, from before pipe-wrap became the norm, [when it was still used to promote a scavenging effect for performance], when fat 16 inch wheels still rocked it, when you didn't need any stinking paint, when you used japper brakes on your old four-speed sporty because they worked, when you used a trailer mudguard, a bates headlight and a piece of ally checker plate to blank off the performance machine name from your front 6-pot caliper, back when you didn't need a hand tooled leather seat, [or an overpriced 'original' bates seat], back when you made your own battery carrier, number plate bracket, clip-on handlebars and grips, back in the day when you drilled the fuck out of all the engine mounting plates to lighten them off, back when motorcycles were cut down to make them faster and not a fucking fashion statement.........