Ok- this is Mrs Loveless. I have been left home alone with the task of trying to sort out some technical issues that Mr Loveless has been having uploading images. Just testing out my fix and the photo I have chosen is especially for Mr L and his friend Dog. The rest of you will just have to wonder :) Hopefully normal service will be resumed soon.....

darley moor

found this charming little video on you tube featuring the classic racing motorcycle club at darley moor from last season, i was at the meeting as a spectator, look out for dave taylor's big, black gs1000 suzuki, nice bloke and the legend that is ken inwood and his famous van at 2.40, hope it conveys the atmosphere of the tight little derbyshire track.............

british historic racing

 the scooter's race at all the british historic racing meetings, the bsso solo scooters are all traditional lambretta'a and vespa's and the bsso zip's are the more modern 'auto' machines like the gilera runners and piaggio zip's, the scooter rider's come along to support the racer's just like the biker's do to support and spectate at the classic bikes, here's one of the best scooters i've ever seen, when the geezer turned up in the pit's opposite us i knew straightaway that this was a special bike, on closer inspection i can see how special it is, carbon fibre footboards and legshields, an beautiful rear brake set-up, front disc brake conversion by the german tuning firm s.i.p, kevlar expansion chamber, brembo radial master cylinder and remote reservoir brembo clutch conversion, ancelloti race seat and arthur francis inspired 'af rayspeed' paint, bloody lovely, dangerous hates two-strokes and turned his nose up when i went across the pitlane to have a closer look, me? i love two-strokes .............

boxer racer project

with the bike back on the bench, it was time to have a good look around to check everything out see if anything has broken or shaken loose, it's strange, you can ride a bike on the road for thousands of miles, change the oil, adjust the chain and keep your tyre pressure's right and that's it, with a bike you race it's different, within ten laps they can shake themselves to bit's, the boxer is filthy and ready for a good clean, brake dust, rubber deposits, oil, petrol stains and dried on insects, cleaning it is a good way of checking everything under close scrutiny, so i set to with the 'muck-off' and start to work my way around the bike, the fairing mounts have shaken loose and need re-fitting, with a good dollop of loctite to stop them slackening off again, the jetting is a mile out, it's running too rich, there's a sooty deposit all over the swinging arm, have to have a look at that before cadwell, we fixed a tie-wrap around the fork leg slider to check how much movement there is under heavy braking, it's too much, four and a half inches and that's after we changed the fork oil for a heavier grade, going to have to knock up a couple of pre-load spacers to stiffen up the forks a bit, the left hand fork seal has given up the ghost and we will replace them as a pair, stiffer fork springs are on the shopping list along with the forty brake horsepower we are missing..............

boxer racer project

with practice out of the way, it's a quick check over the bike, add 5 litres of fuel, [just enough for the warm-up and 8 lapper], it's warming up now so i check the tyre pressures and drop them a few pounds, clean my visor and the tannoy calls us to the assembly area, we are race two and i make my way down through the pit area, girl on the gate checks my number and shouts into my helmet,  'grid number 8, white number's' the white number's are for the solo's the red for the sidecar outfit's, we are let through onto the grid as the last rider's from the previous race are making their way off the track, as i sit on the bike all my nerves are gone, the last few hours and i was actually shaking with fear, apprehension and nerves but now, i just sit, gently rolling the throttle and concentrating on watching the flag, there are nine bikes on the grid, there's usually around fifteen but the last meeting was only two weeks ago, crashes and mechanical mayhem have taken their toll on the numbers along with the fact that it's the summer holidays and people just don't have the spare cash to go racing in these austere times, we are flagged off for the warm-up lap and i know i'm in trouble straight away as everyone else dissapears into the distance at a great rate of knot's, back on the grid and we reform for the race, it's a flag start, not light's and the union flag seem's to hang in the air forever before the girl drops it in a second and away we go, i briefly hang onto the back of the pack as far as the first chicane and then there gone, i just concentrate on trying to get my lap times down and learn some racecraft, i keep it as smooth as possible and keep my head buried behind the screen as much as possible, six laps in and i get lapped by the first three riders, no wonder the big, bad 980cc beemer, 'helga' ridden by ron maul, the 1144 laverda jota and a litre moto guzzi leave me for dead, i manage to hold the rest off and almost as soon as the race starts i get the chequered flag, ninth out of nine, but it's a finish so that's cool with me, back to the van and i'm so dry i can barely speak, i get out of my leathers and get changed and i start to work my way around the bike, checking fasteners, measuring the fuel level and topping it up to the five litre mark for the next race while dangerous makes us a brew, i had trouble down shifting on a few laps and the exhaust is marked where the lever has been hitting it, we strip the adjusting rod off the bike to adjust the lever height and i pull the helicoil out of the mounting plate, bollocks, the helicoils are just about the only thing i didn't put in the van, typical, i sort through the fasteners tin and find a 6mm domey, just enough clearence between the lever and plate, nyloc nut to the outside, job done, not pretty but we have a functioning gearchange again, second bear's race goes like a carbon copy of the first, again i'm just trying as hard as i can but i'm struggling with about 50 brake against the big jota's 115 italian stallion's and the other bikes with anywhere between 75-90 bhp, i'm on a hiding to nothing and need a big power injection in the closed season, but, i already knew that and it's all about getting some time on the track and shaking the bike down under race conditions, the last race of the day is the novice race run on a handicap basis with the formula bantam's, seriously quick little two strokes, there's fourteen bikes out in this six lapper and i've drawn grid position 12, warm up lap and the flag drops, i get a good start and i'm into the first chicane in fourth, this is more like it, the bantams are buzzing around me, two lads stuffing me everytime into the chicane and i'm re-passing them on the left hand kink before the back straight, the big laverda comes howling past, he's a novice too, and i can hear the triumph t110 and the manx norton behind me, the triumph gets past down the straight on lap three and although he's in my sights i can't catch him, the manx is quick down the straight's but i have the measure of him at the hairpin and the park bend and pass him on the brakes, [i've got twin discs he's on a twin leading shoe brake drum], all good fun and we have a really good dice, last lap flag comes out and i go for the out brake at the last corner but he makes himself wide and i haven't got the legs on the dragrace to the flag, i get fourth in the novices and seventh in the handicap, so, that's race day over, i get changed, take my transponder back to the race office and we are home, the bike back on the bench and we are drinking cold peroni's by 2000hrs, what i've learned is that i need more horsepower to be competitive in the bears series, that i have a long, long way to go and that i'm already counting down the day's to cadwell park next month......

boxer racer project

 race day dawn's early, i pick dangerous up at 0630hrs, the morning is overcast, slight drizzle and at this early hour there's a chill in the air, i sense the end of summer is fast approaching, we make the twenty mile trip to darley moor in thirty minutes, i reckon we are absolutely midway between darley moor and donington park, donington, home to grand prix races couldn't be further away in real terms than darley and yet, in recent year's donington has fallen on hard times, the glory day's are gone and following a lengthy legal battle after the death of tom wheatcroft, [who restored and improved the legendary circuit, pumping in millions of pounds and attracting big races to the track] and the new owner's who dug up the track and went bust, darley meanwhile is an old fashioned scratcher's circuit, built on the site of a world- war- two airbase, as far away from donington's corporate raceday image as possible, no hot water, rudimentary toilet block's, the epitome of clubman's racing, i'm not knocking darley, i've seen some of the great's race here and have supported the track through the year's, today, i'm going to be racing on this track, well, when i say racing, well, we unload the van, kettle on and i get changed into my leather's for technical inspection at 0800hrs, leather's, gloves, helmet and boot's checked and stickered ok, scrutineer check's the bike over, 'is this a bear's bike?' 'yes, it is', 'sorry lad's, you don't have any oil containment fitted as the rules require', bollock's, i've had to take the famous baking tray off because it was catching on the ramp as we pushed it into the van, back to the van, nail the 'oil containment recepticle' on and join the queue again, scrute check's it out and we are stickered up, down to the race office, get my transponder, have to buy a mounting bracket to fit it to the left hand fork leg, get a practice tag and show my licence, quick brew and rider's briefing at 0900hrs, first solo practice is called just before 1000hrs, i make my way to the assembly area and we are waved away in waves of around fifteen rider's, darley is roughly triangular, short straight, right-left chicane, tighter than it look's, short straight, tight right-hander, longer straight, right-left, right chicane, tight left hander quickly followed by a very tight right hand hairpin, slight left, flat-out kink and a long straight into a right hand 90 degree bend, that's it, very narrow and deceptively fast, theres all sort's of bikes out, some fast, some very, very fast, i reckon i get about ten lap's before the session is flagged and i return down the slip road, i spot my chance and slip through the cones and join the back of the next solo session waiting to go out for practice, no one spot's me and i'm out third wave, three lap's in and i take the chicane on the start and finish straight too fast, i'm up on the rumble strip and the bikes shaking it's head, lock to lock, i'm out of the seat and heading toward's the tyre wall, somehow, more through luck than judgement i get back on the track and continue like i meant to do it, i'm laughing my fucking head off! how the fuck did i get away with that? fuck me! another rider passes me shaking his head and giving me the wanker sign, fucking brilliant!............

boxer race project

just back from darley moor, ran in two races in the b.e.a.r's and a novice race, too shagged to post, gussy summing up perfectly how i feel, race report to follow.........

boxer racer project

 has anyone seen dangerous? it's thursday night and i'm running round like a twat, i go and have a look at a box trailer for sale, just around the block, dangerous has decided we are going to use the deadly fiat of doom to sleep in, [once he's sorted out a tow-bar] and we are going to tow the bike in a box trailer, the bloke want's nearly as much as a new one so i make my excuses and skin out, mr's b informs me barse and gordie have called in, trouble with the shovel, their gone by the time i'm back, down to the lion for some race fuel, 97 octane, don't know why i'm wasting my money, i'm 40 bhp down on the lad's out in front in the b.e.a.r's series anyway so a few octane higher is hardly going to make much difference, has anyone seen dangerous?, [he said he's going off to yorkshire for a few day's, he's not answering my call's], i work my way around the bike, checking fluid level's, tightening fastener's, jess joins me, sitting on the bike and making 'race faces' and brrruuummm noises, gus is on his chair, stifling the occasional yawn, my final instructions arrived today, i get that feeling in the pit of my stomach, there's no hiding place...........

boxer racer project

boxer racer project

miles from nowhere

 wednesday night in summer, it's the local bike night at m.f.n. i like m.f.n, it's mid week, halfway between last weekend's excess's and this weekend that is hoving into view, a lovely night in derbyshire, i try and start dangerous's triumph, the battery's flat, [again], i drag it out of the shed and dig out the sporty, start it up and let it warm up while i put my helmet on, it's warm, i'm wearing 501's, a battered pair of old converse, black vest and my harley racing jacket, the ride to m.f.n is not the best, cutting between the two cities of derby and nottingham, the overspill of urbanity reaching out into the green-belt, the smell of new mown hay is heavy in the air, my throttle hand twitching to give it the berry's but this road is riddled with speed camera's, i pull down the lane to m.f.n and even from this distance and at this early hour, [1900hrs], you can see the glimmer off the bikes in the three carparks, they have had to install temporary chicanes on the approach roads to slow down the bikes, i park up, have a chat with the omni-present ammo and get a coke off lynda in the outside catering van, proper, old fashioned, full-sugar bottled fizz, served ice cold in a real glass bottle, ace, i wander around the carparks, it's an everchanging smorgasbord of motorcycles, a heady mix of drop dead gorgeous machines, fried onions, two-stroke and hot engines, from the wes cooley gs1000 ama superbike replica, [complete with the famous #34], to the immaculate resto fizzy, from the bloke on the flat tank new hudson, [complete with bungeed stand, 'fucking spring broke youth, thought i was going well, sparks flying, thought it was the footpegs down and it were the bastard stand dragging on 't floor'] to the lush rg, from the streetfighter glam suzuki to the stealth streetracer, turbo-charged, long swinging-arm drag racer-on-the-road, from the sv suzuki racer, totally illegal, leaning against the pub wall to the bsa goldstar, the shadow's are lengthening and, just as the summer seem's to have started it seem's to be coming to a close, i skin out as the crowd's start to become too oppressive, the air is cooling quickly, i head back into derby, taking the long way home, i rarely ride a bike in the city nowadays, but, tonight is one of those night's, the traffic is light and there's loads of fun to be had blowing away the rep's in their bmw's and audi's as they make their way home from the office, toadying up to the gaffer for their promotion prospects or thinking up excuses to the missus after spending an illicit afternoon in the arm's of someone elses wife, i pull up at another set of light's and a geezer on a big-twin pull's alongside, we drag race away from the lights leaving the car's behind, i blow him into the ground and we pull up at the next set of lights, he's looking at me in disbelief, you can see it in his face, [even though i can't see his eyes behind his h.d.shades, [t.m.], 'fuck, i got hammered by a sporty' he continues to stare at me until i inform him his left turn signal has gone to green, he promptly stalls it, wanker, happy day's.........