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............................................................................