donington classic festival-part three

13 photos, 13 reasons why you have to go to the classic festival at donington park next year........

donington classic festival - part two

 there's exotic motorcycles and there's exotic, rare, racing motorcycles, i really couldn't believe my eyes at the standard of machines on show at donington park, the honda sixes, not one but two, are a brace of the george beale replica's re-made a good few years ago now, i can remember that they were offered up for sale at 100k a piece back then so what would they be worth now? these machines are not to be confused with the popular little baby 250 fireblade engined replicas, these are exact replicas of the works racers, an incredible engineering achievment and they sounded fantastic, the #10 bike is a genuine 250/4 works honda, the fairing is hand beaten aluminium and is a work of art, work's moto morini? mondial? , yep, they were there, as was ivan rhodes velocette the famous 'roarer', sammy miller had the moto guzzi v8 and the truly gorgeous 500 v-twin 'bicilindrica' on show, modern machinery was well represented too with everything from the ex- loris capirossi desmosedici ducati and something for the two-stroke smoker fans in the shape of an immaculate 'marlboro' yamaha, the great thing about this weekend was the fact that the bikes were being ridden around the track instead of them just being in a static show, i believe that's where they should be, out on the race track so you can hear them, smell the oil ,fumes and rubber and see them moving fluidly, after all, isn't that what it's all about?

donington classic festival - part one

 just back from the classic racing festival at donington park, what a brilliant day, held over three days, unfortunately i could only make today due to picking up the ducati on friday, returning the van and domestic's on saturday and to tell you the truth i was too knackered to go yesterday afternoon so spent that drinking tea, poking the ducati's [now then, that's got you wondering hasn't it?  i've only posted pictures of the 900ss, there's another one sitting up on the bench too] anyway, a proper 'family' day out today, sweary, chalky, dangerous, stu and yours truly had a blast, loads of exotica and pictures to follow, stay tuned race fan's, here's a little teaser for you, george formby and the 'shuttleworth snap' from the classic film about the tt races 'no limit' and then there's our dangerous assaulting eight times world champion phil read and trying to steal his leathers, you really couldn't make it up, planet loveless, orbiting a different sun.........

since i lost my head, it's awl-right.....

no suprises there then, i've been 'telegraphing' for the past week or so, the new addition to the loveless stable, air-cooled, twin cylinder, carbureted , 900cc ducati loveliness, totally un-molested bar carbon slip-on's, k+n airfilter, dynojet kit and oberon  mastercylinder, [complete with a dodgy red goodrich hose, excuse me, bile in the throat, soon fuck that off and get something a bit more tasteful] eleven thousand miles from new, brand spanking michelin pilot's, new belt's,  full service history and enthusiast owned, less than 15 miles per year for the last four years and that was only between the mot station for the annual ticket, well worth the 500 mile round trip just for the sound, going to try and keep this one as it is, except for perhaps a sprinkling of stainless and titanium fastener's, thats it except for some carbon doo-dad's, maybe some high level termi's, a 'superlight' seat would look nice, might make some rearsets too, the clip-on's are too high for me, they need to go for sure,  i heard that you can fit the marchesini wheel's off the later model's a piece of piss and lose loads of un-sprung weight, what about a set of 1098 forks and mono-block's? they would look the business, a long lever pazzo brake lever and short clutch lever would be nice too, whatever you do, keep it quiet and don't tell mr's b...........

road trip

 five hundred miles, i've driven five hundred miles today, i've laughed until i nearly cried, spunked over a hundred quid on diesel, dined on egg and cress and salmon and cucumber sanwiches, drank three bottles of water, drank a macdonalds coffee, a macdonalds tea, sang along to the rolling stones, oasis, sister sledge, the small faces, sly and the family stone and jimmy hendrix, eaten home-made jam sponge cake, sang along to lionel ritchie, the clash, some old school rave tunes, smiths, style council, bob marley, bought a bike and picked up a classic race bike along the way, seen some great scenery, sang along to some who, smashing pumpkins, steve hillage and roxy music, public enemy, pixies, paul weller and neneh cherry,pastot tl barrett and the youth for christ choir, days like this make it all worthwhile.....

christiansands

 air-cooled, 900 cc ss ducati, watch this space, i think i might just have found one.........

'them were the days youth'

returning from my nightly walk with the dogs along the road where i live i saw an old man sitting on his front door step enjoying the early evening sunshine, his eyes closed and his hands resting upon his knees, i usually wave to him as i pass, he is usually sitting next to the window watching tv or reading in his chair, but tonight he was outside catching some rays, 'ey up', i think i startled him from his thoughts and he looked up with a 'hello' and immediately brought a hand to shield his eyes from the lowering sun, 'oh, hello' he says again 'i'm sorry, i didn't realise it was you' he stands up, [you know how old people get up from being seated] he pushes his hands against his upper thighs and rises slowly, his hands slip backwards to his hips and he stretches before walking over to join me at his garden gate, he fusses the dogs and we spend twenty minutes or so chatting, i ask him 'hows your wife, i've not seen her for while?' he paused and steeled himself before answering my question, before he spoke i already knew the answer, 'my wife passed away.....'  he pauses again and i look this proud old man straight in his blue eyes '.........eighteen months ago.......' damn, i live less than ten houses down from him and i never knew, i wish the earth would swallow me up and then, suddenly he breaks into a broad grin, he tells me how they met and how long they were married, about his children and about past times, he was a coal miner, like a lot of men from around here, he first entered the pit as a trainee at the age of fourteen, his first job was looking after the pit pony's before he graduated to hand picking the coal, yep, literally using a pick and shovel to work the coal seam, 'eight yards [7.3152 metres] a day or you didn't get paid, if you hadn't mined eight yards then you stopped in your own time until you had, no overtime back then!' often lying on your side in the sweltering heat, water running down the walls, underground at 0600 and back to the surface at 1400 [unless you hadn't mined your eight yards that is], if you wanted the toilet you just dug a hole and buried it, water from a pot-bottle to quench your thirst and a sandwich wrapped in a cloth for dinner, all this for a handsome two pounds a day, [ three dollars], he told me of the accidents, he saw men crushed and one fell to his death from the open transport cage, there wasn't even a pit-head baths when he first started work and he had to catch the bus and walk up the portway in all his filthy work wear, home to a bath in the kitchen, a hot tub, literally a tin bath, just long enough to sit in and usually after the kids had been in first! he worked underground for twenty- seven years until the pit shut for good and he went on to work at a big factory in derby making electric cables, until he retired, [the two colour photos are the actual pit head and slag heap and the production board, if you look closely you can see the legend 'up the rams' chalked upon it, a nod to derby county] 'you know, they used to bring the pony's up to the surface for two-weeks when the pit was shut for the annual holiday, i can still see the little buggers running around the meadows above the pit, it must have been the happiest time of their lives, at least we came up every afternoon'... it wasn't all doom and gloom though as we talked about the prank's played and the football matches against other collieries and the ale consumed afterwards, 'you used to go to a dance in ripley, alfreton or derby and you could always tell who the miners were, they were the ones with the black rings around their shirt collars and cuff's where the dust was sweating out of them!' the sun is almost gone now and the dog's are asleep on the pavement, bored by the hour and a half of human chat, 'right, i suppose i'd better get them fed' i say, he shakes my hand, a strong, firm handshake belying his ninety-years on this planet 'you know, my favourite part of the day was waving at the girls working at the denby pottery, they were all pretty and always waved back or blew you a kiss, them were the day's youth.....'