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

Saturday, 28 February 2015

garageland






paint back from mad john, tanks good, fairing needs some therapy, [he forgot to trim the bottom of the fairing where the lowers fix if you are running a full fairing, i'm not, just the top] so, it's out with a 22 tpi hacksaw blade, held in a rag and i carefully cut the mountings off and file and sand to shape before it goes back for more paint. the carbon seat saga continues, they aren't answering the phone now and my emails are left unanswered, deep joy, looks like thats another £160 spunked for fuck-all. i sometimes wonder how these bastards sleep me. i'm just a normal working class bloke, i can ill afford to lose that amount of money because some twat can't meet their promise, i paid up front on the understanding that it was a two-week turnaround, three months and counting and i'm no nearer to getting my seat. anyhoo, i need to fit the cast aluminium filler into the tank top, i spend an afternoon carefully fettling back the paint on the tank, oh my, it's a tight fit, the cast filler that i had blasted is secured by nine 4mm grub screws that 'pinch' the neck of the tank to secure it, i try and press it in and tighten the screws, no way, i have to abandon it, i need to run a tap through each mounting and grease the screws, bollocks, i sack it, have a beer and listen to craig charles funk and soul show, sometimes it's just better to fold and live to fight another day............

Friday, 27 February 2015

upside down


some candy talking




last time i saw the jesus and mary chain was october 1989, my memory of the gig was a twenty minute set, noise, strobes and the band were gone amid a fistfight between the brothers jim and william reid and a guitar left leaning against an amplifier in a wall of feedback. 26 years later and i'm back again to see the band perform 'phsycocandy' at rock city in enemy territory [s'nottingham] the band hit the stage around 2100 hrs and play the encore first, leave the stage and have a brew before coming back to an old newsreel of the town of the future, or, their hometown of east kilbride, to perform the phsycocandy album in full, no breaks, end to end, thirty eight minutes of bliss, smoke, feedback and amplifiers turned up to eleven, the waistlines may be a little thicker and the hairlines a little thinner, but they kick it, big time, all too soon, the 'game over' slide appears and the house lights come on and we stumble out into the cold rain, almost thirty years gone.....................................

Friday, 20 February 2015

still fighting it.






 life. it's a fight ain't it, every morning when that alarm chimes in at 0500hrs, every weekday and most saturdays, it's that ringtone of dread, sometimes i don't even know how i get up. wash. clean my teeth. get a brew and let the dogs out, drive to work for a shift, been doing this for forty-one years now, fifteen when i left school and started my apprenticeship, forty-one years of fucking hard collar, manual labour, mauling pipes and fittings, climbing ladders and scaffold, breathing asbestos fibre through a martindale mask, might as well breathe through an old sock for the protection it provides. bad cut's, sprains, stitches, wet through to the bone, freezing fucking cold on building sites the length and breadth of this sceptered isle, the worst of times and the best of times, laughing until i can't breathe, nailed to a shed door through my heavy welders overall's, fist fights and a weeks wages lost on a game of cards, toasting sandwiches on an upturned gas heater, boiling egg's in the canteen tea-urn, piss-takes and heartbreaks, lost mates and alcohol shakes,  these day's? well. i'm still living for the weekend, when saturday comes, it's football, 90 minutes to lose yourself, week nights it's working on the bike, [bikes]. loads done this week, brakes bled, lockwiring sorted, [love lockwiring stuff, very therapeutic], new, blingy, gold renthal chain fitted and new h.t. leads and caps sorted, yeah, i'm still fighting it......

Sunday, 15 February 2015

hookworms

hookworms, 'on leaving'

Saturday, 14 February 2015

tell me when my light turn's green



i really do not like bad manners, [no, not the eighties skinhead / ska /scooter scum band, i rather like them actually, especially 'walking on sunshine' reminds me of so many rainy, bank holiday mondays....] no, i mean bad manners, rudeness and a lack of respect. you see it everyday on the streets, people just lobbing mcdonalds wrappers out of their car window's, leaving dog shit for someone to step in, [pick it up and bin it you morons] chewing gum stuck to the pavements and smokers crowding around the entrance to a hospital / shop / football ground, inhaling deeply on their tar soaked cancer stick and blowing noxious fumes out over everyone, don't give it the 'it's my right to smoke' bollocks, poison yourselves and your fellow smokers, your children and partners but, fuck off out of my face with it!
      same with driving, i had a couple of days annual leave recently, i went to pick up my boy jack from work as his car was in for some work. bloke pulls out straight in front of me, i brake, shrug my shoulders and he takes offence at it, he's lost it, giving it the big-one, making cut-throat gestures and i can tell he's pretty pissed off, i shrug again, this seems to inflame him even further. i back off to let him go his way, that's really fucked him off, he slows, jabbing on his brakes and swerving in front of me, finally he anchors up in front of me and he's out of the car, throwing his expensive sun glasses onto the road with a flourish. i estimate him to be mid-twenties, puffa-jacket and he's shouting at me that 'i'm gonna beat you up bad man, what you shruggin' at man, i'm gonna hurt you bad fucker!' oh dear, i think he's annoyed,  i get out of the car and he's threatening to kill me. his girlfriend / wife / partner isn't helping the situation, she's shrieking 'get in the car gary, get in the car gary, get in the car gary' he's lost it, he feint's to punch, i don't move, he's six feet away from me, the typical action of someone who doesn't actually want to fight. i let him carry on his abuse. he's in too deep now, he can't back down, his adrenaline has carried him over the edge and he's realised that he really, really doesn't want to go through with this. i offer him a way out, i tread on his expensive sunglasses and smash them, 'pull over to the left matey, down there where no-one can see' that's all he needed, a way out, he get's back into his car and with a final shout of 'fuck you!!!' he's gone, the art of fighting without fighting i suppose.
     so, what's all this got to do with the peaky blinder ducati project? well, three months ago i ordered a carbon fibre seat unit from a well known sheffield based outfit, i chased my order up yesterday, 'hi, just wondering what the progress was with my seat unit? i told them i had a trackday booked for the ninth of march, 'well, you won't be sitting on our seat!' squeeze me? baking powder, what happened to customer service? the twat on the end of the phone told me 'it's not really worth our while producing these seat's as they are labour intensive' what the fuck! he's had my one hundred and sixty quid sitting in his arse pocket for twelve weeks and it's not worth his time? keep watching fight fan's, this ones got 'classic' written all over it.........

Friday, 13 February 2015

aftergrudge......





'hello sir, ooh, wiring sir? all that cable? where does that go sir?  plug it in sir, a nice cozy fit....' wiring, i don't do wiring me, electrickery. can't get my head around all that bollock's. some people get it. [barse is a genius at it. he get's fucked off with me when i ask him why does that go there?......... 'bailey, you are a moron, just pass me the needle-nose pliers, boil-up some water and check my bid on those shovelhead clutch plates'] a week spent wrestling the ducati loom in the shed, it looks like a dismembered octopus to me, i start by plugging in the main connection to the ecu and work back from there, ahhha, that bit only plugs into that bit, what's that bit for? dunno, i chop it out, bollocks, thats the feed to the coils, stick that back with a bit of sticky tape, sorted. any- old -how, i just stick to what i know and knock up a bracket to carry the coils instead, hit the ratty said items with a matt-black rattle can, sorted. [picked up a couple of cd's on amazon too this week shara nelson 'friendly fire' and innocence 'belief', an english penny each, plus postage, what's that all about then? pure.fucking.soul.music. check them out. i love shara nelson me, the voice of massive attack. she must be related to aretha franklin? perhaps not...............

Friday, 6 February 2015

blink, [now you've missed it]



after all the glam, lovely stuff, it's time to get down to the boring bit's [excuse me, as i type this old bollock's 'three feet high and rising' by de-la-soul kick's in my headphones, what a tune.....] the airbox, after a good shoeing, sprayed with gunk and well rinsed, stood on the radiator in the shed to dry and then, on a ragga-tip from the mz forum, see's me applying a liberal coating of black shoe polish, well, bugger me! it actually works, the old, discoloured, dull plastic look's brand new, brilliant! new stainless hose clips, [carefully positioned so you can't see the worm drive, just shiny, plain stainless finish] the ratty, 'big-issue' injector bodies stand out against the sea of matt-black paint, a glimpse of stocking-top, just need to steal myself to start thinning out and cleaning the wiring harness now........