festival of a 1000 bikes 2013 part three

viewer discretion may be required for the following post, this post contains adult theme and profanity from the outset, thank you, 'what's up with this twat! does he think he's the only fucker trying to unload his fucking van or what?' 'calm down dangerous, he's only trying to get his bike out of his van, there's plenty of time yet, it's only half past seven, get the kettle on and let's have a brew' 'the blokes a cu..' 'dangerous, everybody's just trying to get their bikes out and sorted' ,yeah, but scrutineering's open, i haven't signed on yet and i'm out at 1100hrs and and and i need a shit, and i need a shit now!' he disappears for his evacuation and i unstrap the bikes and wheel them out of the van, onto their stands, fetch water, stove lit and kettle on and i must admit to a little sly chuckle, i've been here for the past four year's and know how it roll's, i've seen it from the rider's perspective and it's amazing , the crowds are five deep at the fences and to actually take part is truly humbling, no wonder dangerous is feeling the pressure, he return's ashen-faced, i give him a brew and he's twitching, 'shouldn't we be signing on now, i don't want to miss it' tea drunk and we sign on, 'just sign the indemnity to confirm you are riding the bike you have booked in' oh fuck, i get that sick feeling in my stomach, i'm lying, i'm going to be riding the 'macchi not the boxer, scrute pass issued and i push the 250 down to the scrutineering shed, the bike flies through, sticker issued and i can see the load lifting off dangerous's shoulder's, my turn now, the 350 fail's miserably, the throttle is sticking and the clutch lever is hitting the cut-away on the fairing, minor repairs and i've got a sticker, another brew, check the tyre pressures and mick and chalky turn up, i've got that guilt thing gnawing away at me, the lad's say 'fuck 'em' but i just can't do it, i'm not made this way, i'm as honest as the day is long and i decide to 'fess up, 'your fucking stupid' rant's the d.man 'their not going to let you ride, don't do it, no-one will even notice' i grab my doc's and head into the race control office, tell the lady the truth, my boxer's not ready, i've scruted another bike and can i ride that instead? 'cause you can love, just sign this form and that's it' fuck me, why was i worried? cause they would let me change my bike at the last minute, now all i have to do is get my head around riding a right-foot gearchange, race pattern, one up- six down gearbox, a four leading shoe grabby as fuck grimeaca  front brake and a bike that won't tick over under  two-thousand arrrhhh-in-the-fucking-pee-emmm, no one said it was going to be easy.......