sporties rule.

dragged the ducati out for a good thrashing today, down to racing lines to pick up my spark plugs, got my '10's, rob had sold my '9's this morning, up to john carrs for a new pair of gloves, rst's , carbon knuckle guards, vented, mint, up the a38 to mansfield to drop a piece of stainless off with kev at le-rock, his sporty/buell project, 'green meenie' was on the front leaning against the railings that seperate the railway line from the industrial units, got a bit of history with this bike, the number plate was off my old bmw project that i sold to barse, the engine, a buell fuel injection model was mine, i bought it off kev for a hillclimber project that i started and binned due to a lack of funds, [same as it ever was], i stripped the motor and started to re-build it then ran out of green-folding and kev bought it back off me, slapped it in a cut -down sporty frame, added supertrapp down pipes, no silencers, a subaru air filter, [on standard cv carb, 42mm hsr mikuni to follow] rattle-canned spoke wheels, [big, big back end to follow], loveless rearsets off dangerous's sporty and a batman stylee, joker, half black, half green spray job, fucking mint, de de de de, de de de de, frisky, de de de de, de de de de , frisky.....

had some time off this week, booked a week off to sort a few jobs out and chill, been up early every day, out in the garden with a mug of tea and gus sitting on my knee, [can't get ted up, he isn't a 'morning' dog], visited a few antique shops, junk shops, charity shops and book shops, i took the kid's to meadow hall [meadow-hell] yesterday, it's a massive shopping mall on the outskirts of sheffield, imagine being blind folded and spun around three times and then the blind fold being taken off, i bet you couldn't guess which city you are in, every shop exactly the same, the clothes exactly the same, the layout, exactly the same, i sat outside the apple shop waiting for jack who was lusting after the new i-pad, i clocked the shop assistants, i'm well travelled and i swear they look exactly like the assistants in los angeles, or florida or nevada or wherever, i reckon they shrinkwrap them onto a pallett and deliver them to the shop, put the batteries in and away they go, thats why i like [delete as applicable, junk/charity/antique/secondhand bookshops/autojumbles/old vinyl record shops/builders skips], i love rooting through stuff where everything is different, iv'e bagged a couple of gems this week, the derby county book for £1.60, [featuring legends such as stimac, carbonari, bloomer, mcfarland, hector, mackay, gemmill, charlie george, franny lee, eranio,wanchope and raich carter], the classic motorcycles book by vic willoughby for £2, and the mike hailwood poster riding the honda six at the french gp in 1967 in a tatty frame for £4, i love old stuff me.

got tipped off that this photo of me was on a photography site, [can't tell you which one though!], the photo is copyright to them, even though it's a photo of me, how does that work then? anyway, enough of that, been hard at it in the shed making spares for the racer last couple of nights, made replacement footpeg hangers and tomorrow it's going to be two more pairs of footpegs, finally seem to have got the float hights sorted and the bike starts easily now, got a good range of jets from burwins and my spare spark plugs need picking up from rob at racing lines, we are trying to get a load of spares ready for when i crash so that we can sort the bike out at a meeting if needs be, going to get my entry in this week for cadwell next month, thats when the bullshit stops.....

here's a picture of me sitting on my mz trophy, barse is the bloke on the right with the jogger bottoms and hands on his hips, the little lad is ben the tattoo artist wearing his 'lederhosen', the bloke with the dodgy shades is dangerous and the man with the red shirt and his arms folded is an undercover policeman from the derbyshire constabulary questioning us about what gearing we should use for cadwell park, 'bollock's copper, we aint sayin' nuffin!'

my bike was on e-bay for a seven day listing, it was up tonight at 1950 hours, top bid was £1550, one thousand, five hundred and fifty pounds, bollocks to that, this bike is the cleanest, best maintained 750ss in the country, every nut and bolt is high grade stainless steel or titanium, it's got a carbon and stainless remus high level exhaust system, k+n air filter, modded air box and re-chip, new chain and sprockets, battery, the brake lines have been replaced with earls performance stainless and carbon lines, even the bleed nipples, banjo's and caliper bolts are stainless, it's got a ducati performance carbon front mudguard, shorty footpegs, single seat conversion, heel plates and front sprocket cover, full service history, brand new bridgestone bt 016 battlax tyres, the aluminium is polished and the paintwork is flawless, you had your chance suckers, this bike ain't for sale now, fuck you.

sunday, barse, gordy and chris w turn up at mine at 11am, i've left a message with mucker marsh but he doesn't trap, ben is having new wheels fitted to his bimmer and picking his suit up, [fuck me, ben is jay-z!], dangerous turns up, we are off to curborough for the national hillclimber club meeting on the twisty sprint track, into the lion garage for fuel, 50 miles max on a tankfull on the sporty, i brim the tank and pay, we turn left onto the 517 to ashbourne, into ashbourne and onto the a515, past darley moor, there's a meeting on there today, down past the prison at sudbury, onto the a50 and back onto the 515 for the quick ride down towards lichfield, pick up signs for fradley and i know we are almost there, nearly miss the entrance to the sprint and we park up, barse get's the tea's in and we wander around the pits, there's some great stuff here, i'm looking at the 250cc velo and decide to have some sport, 'you should be ashamed of yourself'', i say, 'you should restore it and put it on display in a museum', 'fuck off', says one of the lads, 'mate, i'm taking the piss' i say, 'i know you are son',

say's the bikes owner, his mate chips in, 'he'll pay you to take a photo', brilliant, no over restored precious motorcycles, just bikes used and abused, we lunch on fried egg butties and tea, barse, chris w and gordie skin out, me and dangerous watch some more racing and skin out to darley-moor, things are different here, a different type of vibe, tension, if someone needed a clutch lever for a r1 or whatever you can picture them saying 'sorry mate, ain't got one' even if they have 5 in the van, you ain't valentino youth, your'e just a clubman racer, one of the feature races gets red flagged when one of the novice's has a big off, the leader slaps his bike and starts giving it the big 'whaddafuck' shoulder thing, mate, your fellow racer is down and injured, show some respect you twat.

......so, friday afternoon, finish work, quick shave and shower and i'm at second-skin for a session with ben, 'the world's most handsome man', quick brew and down to work, we talk about 'festival of a 1000 bikes', tattoo's, mutual 'friend's', my ducati, rat's running across the road and getting squashed, ben's cat, my dog's, football, mz's, led zeppelin, the weather, roy, [ben's brother-in-law and my mate who sit's behind me at pride park or the home of the mighty, mighty, ram's, two week's 'til the new season, away to dirty, dirty leed's first match], the knocking shop across the street, chocolate hob-nobs, barse and jake turn up, we have a brew, ben get's his ape-hanger's out, [well, not his actual ape-hangers but the packaging that they arrived in, the bar's are at the powdercoaters for a good thrashing and painting in black], just another typical loveless afternoon then....