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.







































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