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

Saturday, 15 December 2012

aermacchi

it all went pete tong yesterday, after the freezing conditions of the last three day's me and the boy jack awoke to heavy rain, falling on the frozen ground, not a good scenario, i'm finishing the dreg's off my tea while jack scrapes the ice off the car, he stick's his head around the door, 'dad, it's like a friggin' ice rink out here' bloody hell! is it ever, i nearly go arse over tit just walking to the car, we are halfway to work and some bloke comes out of the paper shop and gives it the full on 'dancing on ice' thing, both feet off the floor, arm's flailing, we are pissing ourselves, that proper, tears down the face thing, we make it to work and i can't open the gate, i try and thaw out the padlock by blowing on it, my lips are stuck to the cold metal and a few thousands of an inch of lip are ripped off in the process, i load the two lorries in the steady, freezing rain, fingers numb and that searching cold, wet soaks into my trousers, another lorry turns up, i spend the next hour and a half standing on the back of an articulated lorry trailer slinging the loads while one of the boy's forklift's it off, i'm fucking soaked, i stand in the gents with the hand dryer blowing luke warm air onto my trousers in the vain hope that i can get dry, no chance, skin out at 1300 hrs, i have to get my eye's tested for my race licence, walk into town, get wet, have some sport with the optician, [one of the test's is for colour blindness] 'ok tim, what colours can you see on the page?' 'what page is that then?' 'let's try that again tim, tell me what the sequence of colour's is?' 'red and orange and purple and blue', 'no that's not correct', yeah, i know, i'm just singing a song that's brilliant' he get's it. we laugh and i complete my eye test, get my doc's signed up and walk home, in the fucking rain, home, tea and a hot mince pie, i don't bother getting changed, got to walk the dog's, light fading and it's raining, i get wet, big time wetter than a very dolphin type wet thing, home, shave, shower, and me and the boy jack get the bus into derby, meeting the lad's for a few beer's and a curry, we stand in the steady, cold, rain, waiting for the bus, it's twenty minutes late, i'm cold and wet, we decide to get a taxi to the pub, there's no taxi's, we make the fifteen minute walk in the rain, italian beer and indian food, forget all that foreign muck, [attention, attention, irony warning approaching, for the benefit of our foreign reader's, irony or piss-taking is a very british and australian thing that you might not get, hence irony...]stand in the taxi rank in the cold rain waiting for a cab, up this morning, decidely second hand, when you are working on a project like the aermacchi racer you get a reality check, you can't just get part's off the interweb, i've had to do a lot of digging to source part's, got the front brake master cylinder re-built today, it's took forever, mixing and matching parts, the clutch lever? yep, it's upside down, an old racer dodge, they mounted them upside down so you could see if the cable was fraying, it was dry today.....

3 comments:

  1. God Timmy, if ever there was an endorsement as why never to move to your part of the Empire, that was it . . . ten points for just surviving not to mention getting about achieving things . . . lips on metal, it'd be funny if it wasn't so fucking painful just to read, soaking wet, freezing cold, no buses, ghastly foreign food [ha ha ha with the 'warning'], more rain, more cold . . . I'm going Chrissy shopping today with Lizzie, I will not complain for a second about the blue sky induced heat stroke, the sweat, the aircon car . . . not a word of protest I can assure you. Stay dry brotherman, tougher than a very tough thing you are. XX

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  2. I hate the winter rain, so much colder than the summer rain. There wasn't any smugness there Whitey was there?, my mate emirgrated to Adelaide in July, and all I get off him is smugness.

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    1. None whatsover Jan . . . simply happy with my sweaty, itchy lot . . . would love to visit, even hang for a year . . . but to tolerate that kind of meteorological bad joke that you guys call weather year in, year out, I'd rather move back to Canberra. Cheers, Whitey.

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