my human gets me blues

i really thought i'd got it out of my system, i was sorry to see my massimo tamburini designed ss750 go on e-bay for a paltry sum, but, i was in the middle of funding the mz 250 race bike project so i needed to move something on, the sporty? who's going to buy that piece of shit? overpriced, over rated and over here, you need to be constantly fettling, working on them and improving them, throw the brakes away, buy ducati brembo calipers from a breakers yard and you can stop them, belt-drive? a brilliant concept but in reality? i've snapped three pulling wheelies, don't get me wrong, if you are a 'typical' harley rider, twenty five mile run to the dealership, cup of tea in matlock bath and home to stand posing in the mirror and rubbing yourself as you quote johnny in the 'wild one' wearing your latest 'official, factory, t.m. .road-geer' [sic] clothing then well fair play to you, the stock pulleys weigh a ton, swap them for a chain and sprocket kit and your problems are over, chuck the fuel injection system in the bin and fit a mikuni hsr 42mm carb and a set of supertrapp's and you are halfway to making a decent bike, forget aftermarket ignition systems, i've tried them all and spunked a load of money in search of the elusive bee-haightch-pee, they really are shit, crane single fire?, wank, stick with the o.e. item and you won't go far wrong, cam's? waste of time, why do you want to move your torque range up when you ride at fifty miles an hour?, save yourself a load of money, keep a rideable bike and save some money, the best performance gain's are made by shaving weight off the standard heavy fucker, junk everything, as i said, pulley's weigh a ton, junk the stock rear mudguard and cut the rails, the supertrapps aren't the best looking pipes but they are equal length and tuned to the motor and they work, if you do the brembo four-pot conversion, [i run these on everything, there's no better value for money performance wise] you can lose the weight off the front end by junking a disc and caliper, fit a two-gallon sporty tank, you will be refilling every fifty miles if you ride hard like me but, let's face it, do you really want to spend anymore time than that on a 1200cc, vibrating, filling loosening, white finger inducing bastard? naawh, thought not, any way, back to the plot, the picture of the yellow superlight at 'founders day' sparked me off, so much that i decided almost instantly, [well, ok, two weeks later] that i needed another ducati in my life, this wasn't helped by the visit to see my old muckers racing the mz's last weekend at donington park] des still has the 250 racer leaning against the wall in his shed in deepest wales [boyo] a quick trawl of the tinterweb reveal's loads of bikes for sale, admittedly not 'superlights' but good, solid 750 and 900ss for sale starting from 1500 quid, i might just have to scratch this itch, it will mean shelving the beemer cafe racer project for a bit, but?,well? i'm waiting, what d'ya reckon?......

chant of a poor man

still catching up with post's, here's some photo's from a couple of weeks ago, the b.s.a goldstar owners meeting at the 'john thompson' public house and micro brewery in ingleby near swarkestone, right in the southern most tip of derbyshire and on the border of leicestershire and staffordshire, a lovely location, right next to the river trent and a perfect mid-summer, mid-week, meeting place for motorcyclist's, shame then that my abiding memory of this place amount's to being refused 'service' here by a landlord in the early 1980's who took great delight in announcing to his audience of half-pint and gin and tonic swilling clientle 'OUT! GET OUT NOW!  motorcyclist's are not welcome here!' 30 years later and i'm still holding a grudge as me and dangerous pull up into a bikeless carpark, loads of cars but no bikes, have we got the right night? barse turns up on the shovelhead from hell, chalky on his hinkley speed-triple and we get a cold, full-fat-full-sugar coke from the bar, in the distance i can hear the big b.s.a singles coming, a phone call from sweary reveals he's blown a plug out of his velo, the sun is losing height fast and the shadows lengthen, a couple of nice nortons turn up, a trouser stiffening, alloy tanked commando engined special and a late model 750 burgundy beaut, as the numbers grow in the beer garden and the 'lad's' start to move the garden furniture around the painstakingly manicured garden i stifle a laugh, if it was a bunch of teenagers the locals would be kicking up a stink, the language gets ever more fruity, me and barse are the youngest here, we are early fifties and the rest of the old degenerates are early '60's to late '70's, for me the moment of the evening was when the present landlord came over and asked in hushed tones if we could tone down the volume of our conversations and raucous, anti-social behaviour as it was 'offending other customers' brilliant, i've been waiting 30 years for this moment and i must admit i relished gunning out of the carpark and treating the assembled 'gentle-folk' to the aural pleasure of a big-bore, carbureted, supertrapped sporty on the cam.....

for maddened prophets

i like my own company me, i like time on my own, you are never more on your own than when you are riding a motorcycle, i headed out late afternoon, the ever present storm clouds threatening a right royal drenching, waterproof's are for wimps, it's hot and humid and stormy and if you get wet, well, it's better being wet and warm than wet and cold, open face lid then, as i head out north the roads are wet, traffic is light, the sky's darken as the cloud level and temperature drop's, the cattle are lying down and the bird's stop singing, it's coming, you can feel it in the air, a big storm, i can hear it rumbling in the distance, that low, steady noise, flashes of lightning spark across the horizon, i stop to wipe my glasses, the spray off the roads, dead flies and general road filth  combined with my salty tear's make vision forward's difficult, i spit on my glasses to clean them and look at my bike, what was i thinking of? the seat need's pulling in four inches forwards, as i ride home i feel backward's, yep, i can lose four inches easily by moving the seat forward, that's on the list of job's to do then and i want to run a number board with a headlight instead of the poxy bates copy, i set off and the storm hit's with a vengeance, that old saying? 'cat's and dog's?' i'm soaked within second's, i'm even having trouble breathing the storm is that intense, would i have it any other way? let me think about it..........nah, all i can think about is moving that fucking seat forward's......

come together

primal scream, what a brilliant band, the screamedelica album has to be one of the best lp's ever, track six, 'come together' oh my goodness, 'this is a beautiful day, it is a new day, we are all together, we are unified and all for the cause, because together we got power, today on this program you will hear gospel and rythm and blues and jazz, all these are just labels, we know music is music, come together as one...' the mz's are at donington park this weekend, be rude not to check out some of my old mucker's, andy smith, #51 left me a weekend pass at security so i set off around mid-morning today, security give me a hard time but i eventually blag my way into the race paddock with a story about having some ignition part's for andy's race bike, fucking jobsworth's, i soon spy the 'smiley face' acid house flag that denotes the mz racers, i spot des davies almost immediately, 'des davies, well, i live and breathe' it's like i've never been away, instant piss-taking all round, i get changed into my short's and vest, chuck my riding gear into the back of joe's van and we catch up, andy smith, [the bloke who bought my bike soon spot's my big, bald dome going red in the hot july sunshine and we spend some time catching up] andy is flying this season on the ex-loveless machine, i'm really touched that he's still flying the old 'loveless engineering' sticker's on his bike, chris palmer, [we are not worthy, brilliant racer, massive life threatening accident at cadwell park, proper helicopter ride and all that malarkey but still supporting the two-stroke massive and totally dedicated to the m-zedder's], good to catch up with brian and chris roger's too, some class racing going on, heart in the mouth moment when des outbraked everyone into the hairpin twenty-five miles per hour quicker than the rest of the boy's, a really good afternoon, but, the bastard's got me going, i had offer's of riding bikes, des said 'take mine out boyo, don't know if you can squeeze into my leather's but....' andy smith offered to give me a frame, fork's and the tz 50 wheel's i machined up for him to build a bike, fucking hell, i'm tempted, the two-stroke thing is more addictive than a bag of, well, let's just say 'higher than the sun'.........

miles from nowhere

have you ever seen that classic british film 'scum'? it's about a borstal in england in the late 1970's, [borstal is like a juvenile detention centre, a young offenders jail] the ace face is played by ray winstone, [he was the rocker in 'quadrophenia' you know, that bit in the public bath's where he's singing and phil daniels 'jimmy' tries to sing louder than him? [public bath's? for your information, most of the houses in britain in the late 1950's to early 1960's didn't have a bathroom, instead, you made your way to the local 'bath's' a communal bath-house where, once a week, you could indulge in a full bath instead of a quick rinse in a hand-bowl or the kitchen sink, can you imagine that nowday's? buying a house without a bathroom and a thundertrap at the end of the garden? ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my world, miles from nowhere, it's up for sale apparently, the present owner is retiring, i fear for it in the future, malc has poured his heart and soul into it in the past, running everything from the three regular bike-nights to car cruises, volkswagen meetings, streetfighter rally's, hot-rod and custom car shows and scooter rally's, auto-jumbles, swap-meet's and everything in-between, from fetish shows to rock and roll weekender's, i reckon 'miles from nowhere's' days might be numbered, i can see nothing but a boarded up old pub next to the canal, it's the worst time in the world to be buying into a pub, so, there you go? until the inevitable happens, heres some pics from monday night, would you really want to be anywhere else in the world than derbyshire on a monday night? california? pwfaaahh!  eat me, brisbane? so passe, london? fuck right off you bunch of southern poser's, derbyshire, we got it going on, big time, visit sometime, [just be aware you may receive a head-butt at any time if you step out of line, fucker.......]

vintage motor cycle club, founders day, part two

so, here we go again, a load of photo's [just scratching the surface mind] of the bikes i'd like to take home with me, let me clarify, me and dangerous, barse and the boy's have a little game we play when we attend a rally, show, meeting, bike night, blah, blah, blah, obvious as it seems it's called ' ok, 'which bike would you take home with you?' well, here's my choice cut's from the weekend, from lambretta scooter, oh my, how cool does this man and his sweetheart look astride this beauty?, the little raleigh bicycle framed ducati engined 'cicco' moped from 1948? the norton p11 desert racers? the xt 500 rocking those teeny 17 inch rims to take advantage of modern rubber [like i've done on the sporty, doesn't it look right? but bollocks to that, when you see how far over he's had it on the road tyres, sometimes forsaking the the off-road, knobbly look pay's dividends and i bet this bloke doesn't give a shit because he's far too busy having a blast, the ducati superlight? i'm in love me, stunning, the harley sidevalves? [hate posting pictures of them but this pair have got it going on in my opinion, the ariel? norton commando in white? ural sidecar combo? vincents? [i love standing at shows and saying in a really loud voice 'that fucker would look great with a little mustang tank and ape-hangers' absolutely guaranteed to cause apoplexy in the majority of old duffer's standing fawning over these overpriced, poor excuses of a motorcycle] i'd rather have the 750/4 engined/bsa framed mongrel anyday, or the norton domi-racer or one of the flat-tank veterans, but, that's just me, that's the beauty of motorcycling, everyone has an opinion, for me, the afternoon was summed up by the bloke on the mz, i love these little two-stroke east german bikes, at first i thought he was in trouble as he sunk to his knee's and pawed at the grass, 'you ok mate?' i offered up, i seriously thought he was having a heart attack when i heard him cursing, 'oooh!, fucking fuck, bollocks, owww!' ' yeah, cause i'm, alright you twat!  i've just dropped my fucking ignition key in the grass and i'm fucked if i can see it............'