sitting in the shed waiting for the phonecall, 'hello tim, it's paul......' it's 2030 hrs, i know what's coming, 'won't be able to make it tonight i'm afraid' no shit sherlock, my bike is so close it's unreal, i can smell it, just add fuel and a battery, press the button and let's go, fuck me, it's july now, if you had told me back in december that i wouldn't have a bike, race or road i wouldn't have believed it, seven months on, life won't wait, i've missed the summer, i've tried to book the morini owners club trackday and the classic bike magazine trackday at cadwell, the triumph triples trackday, all over subscribed, i can't book them beforehand as i've got no guarantee that my bike will be ready and i can ill afford to spunk a hundred quid here and a hundred quid there, lose my deposit on the hire van and lose valuable annual leave for a 'pie-in-the-sky dream' and to cap it all, it looks like i'm going to miss the 'festival' too for the first time, paid up front in january, never dreaming for a second that i wouldn't be out there, i'm losing patience now, getting mightily fucked off with the whole caboodle, i've shelled out hard-earned for nothing but a heap of broken promises, [again, hello kev, how you doing?] what's a matter with people? i really don't think that it's out of order or impatient to ask when you might possibly receieve what you paid for up-front? is it me or what? is this something unique to the motorcycling fratenity? sorry to go off on one and here's a couple of pictures of jim blomley's beautiful moto-guzzi race bike, i know i use the word 'perfection' too much, but, really? just look at this beauty.......
your problem lays at your own feet Tim. people see kindness as a weakness, and because you have chosen not to pursue them more strongly, they have abused you. fuck these idiots off, giving you false hope and promising it all and delivering fuck all. im getting annoyed with it, you, having no bike? its a fucking joke, with all the people you know you should be up and running. first time a victim, next time a volunteer. youve waited too long for too little. stop fucking around, get rid of the wankers, and get the job done. i swear if i could, i would have had you on the road ages ago. all its doing is changing the Tim i know into a bitter old twat, and thats not you, so write them cunts off as a bad experience and get somebody more reliable on the case. time's a wasting, nearly christmas. and you owe me a breakfast at the strip.
ReplyDeleteWhat old mate said Timmy, tragically, good people get screwed and nice guys finish last . . . either that or you're having an eighteen month stretch of piss poor luck . . . fingers crossed for you brotherman, stick it up the bastards. Nice Guz by the way mate.
DeleteThese two guys are right Tim its finish up or fuck off time ,at our age we know its do it yourself or forget it,,,I had a mate like that once he ended up costing me two grand and it was time to move on,just think what would you say to somebody if they told you about all the hassle you are having,you would not be long telling them what to do,,,well its time to do it !!!rant over get pissed it solves everything ,for one night at least,,Ed
ReplyDeleteThere are some jobs you can do, some jobs your mates can do, and some jobs only an expert can do. If you take both bikes off the road and put them in the hands of experts then be prepared for a wait. We need to look for solutions not rant about the "experts". What makes an expert well in some case it's someone who has read a book, in others it's years of experience. What's equally important is how they value time or more importantly customers time. Why dont you ask your wiring man what he did instead of wiring your bike? See you on the strip for a full English
ReplyDeleteNice Guzzi so much better than any other Twin ;-)
ReplyDeleteSo what gonna happen with the wiring now?
alternatively, you could douse your garage with petrol, stick matches to the floor and sandpaper to your bollocks, then position yourself correctly as you're backing into your old lover near the lathe, and as your low-swinging testes pendulate during the seedy bum-fun, they will brush against the matches and ignite you, your fella, the lathe and all your fucking bike/ornament objects in one big massive gay love orgasm dust-firing old knackerbag backdoor loving crescendo! problem solved. i think i even made up a word! pendulate!
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