Saturday, 30 January 2016
Saturday, 23 January 2016
Saturday, 16 January 2016
over the holidays i realised just how disorganised we had let the shed become so me and dangerous had a serious clean up. i sorted out all the old harley/triumph/ducati/bmw spares and stuck them on ebay. we got pretty ruthless and junked loads of crap and i even purchased some new storage for all the stainless/titanium fasteners and sorted them out into size order. even the pictures on the wall were culled as i started to feel a little claustrophobic with all the different images. the shed looks a little clinical now but it certainly feels better plus we needed to make some room for the 'not a ducati tt replica project'.............
Friday, 15 January 2016
Sunday, 10 January 2016
Saturday, 9 January 2016
Friday, 8 January 2016
dangerous is like larry's evil conscience in the 'animal house' movie, you know the one, 'fuck her...' anyhoo, we are sitting quaffing another brew, dangerous is giving it the bee-gee's 'ooh, ooh, ahh, ahh, ahh' as he gorges on another too hot mincer. between the swear words i can make out ' get your helmet on, go on, just round the block' 'i've got no tax on it dangerous' 'fuck that go on, go, fuck her....' so i end up donning helmet, no gloves and a fetching shorts, batman hoody and trainers combo.
it's january, the roads are damp, i have a quarter turn throttle, new tyres and a 63 bee-haightch-pee, 150 kg, big single between my legs, i mean, what could possibly go wrong?
out onto the road and a big handful of throttle see's the back end of the beaky blinder coming around parallel to the front, holy shit! i'm four feet out of the saddle, both legs flailing behind and getting spat off the highside, how i save it i don't know! i snake off up the road, selecting gears and the rev's rising as the tyres fights for grip on the greasy surface. two laps of the block, front wheel pawing the air, no clutch here just sheer, nasty, power. straight back into the shed. i'm shaking like a shitting dog. dangerous is soiling himself. 'fucking hell' i say. 'fucking hell' say's dangerous. my toes are poking out of my ruined trainer, my sock atomized, toes bleeding. 'fucking hell, i'll put the kettle on........'
Friday, 1 January 2016
suddenly out of the darkness of another boring sodium lit night on the streets of parr, sparks would ignite as the douglas dragonfly grounded its pegs around the sharp and dangerously rutted "oddfellows" bend. the rider wrestled the ill handling machine, teasing out more and more performance than was ever intended, in a split second blur of soundtrack and speed he had battered the corner into submission....he now owned it... and off he sped...to his next task. nailing it round the "horse shoe".. "aye that will be bob then"... said the teenager looking on in awe. "aye that was bob"... on bob smith
just by chance i found this comment left by 'z1toecutter' on a post about the legendary racer bob smith. i was contacted by bob's brother in law regarding my post's on bob from way back when and the family sent me copies of a photo album of very personal pictures that i will post to celebrate the life of great man once we have sorted out all the photo credits. bob smith was a great racer, humble, funny and fast as fuck, his memory will live on with the recently announced bob smith trophy races at scarborough, [the scene of many of bob's win's] looking back through the pictures reveals the talent of bob, ex world champions, marco luchinelli, wayne gardner and barry sheene amongst the fellow racers bob bested.
z1toecutter must have known bob, or, at least been a fan, he has put into words what i can't. respect due.