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

Thursday, 18 July 2013

festival of a 1000 bikes 2013 part two












'and that was a partly typical broadcast on behalf of the 'save mallory park' party, now, our usual service will be resumed, please be aware, this report may contain flashing lights and profanity from the beginning......' right, after blocking a couple of 'staro's' in the shed on saturday night after loading the van, yours truly started getting a right dose of dutch courage, 'you know what dangerous?, fuck 'em, ive paid my money up front so fuck 'em let's stick the three-fifty aermacchi in the van and i'll ride that, who the fuck do they think they are telling me i can't swap bikes?' dangerous is well up for it, 'yeah, i mean, why', his glasses resting on the edge of his glass as the effects of the alcohol kicks in, 'can't you ride the fucking three-fifty instead of the boxer? fuck 'em, just plead innocent and tell them some bollock's' we drunkenly push the three-fifty up the plank into the van, strap it down next to the metisse and chuck my leather's, arai helmet, gloves and boots in the back of the van and call it a night, curry, a couple of episodes of 'breaking bad' and goodnight irene, i don't even make it to bed, it's too hot to be cuddled up to my little scottish bird and i hit the sofa instead, after  a fitfull night, a combination of a car alarm going off three times, straggler's from the village fete spewing and shouting, the heat and jack russell's jumping up on me to make sure i'm ok i eventually awake at sparrow fart, 0400hr's, shower and i'm at dangerous's for 0545hrs, he get's in the van bleary eyed, not much conversation for the forty mile journey to' the park', in the almost cold, well, no, it's not really cold, more luke-warm, well, more very warm light of day our bravado seem's foolish, arriving at mallory is alway's a buzz, it's fucking heaving, security check our van passes, our wrist-bands and we are heading down the famous shaw's hairpin the opposite way you see it on the telly and squeeze into a space in the paddock, when i say a 'space' i mean into the space between the rows of vans, caravan's and race transporters already here, the sort of space a gunner on lord nelson's 'victory' would consider palatial.........

1 comment:

  1. Fuck mate . . . leaving us hanging or what, love the Magni Suzi, those classic megas are the shit every time . . . rebel, rebel, you're on the track, rebel, rebel, no looking back . . .

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