a legend in his own mind

just a quick update from the loveless shed. the 'false' triumph is almost road legal, nige at nrp exhausts has made us a new baffle to subdue the rather 'fierce' exhaust down from an ear-bleeding one hundred and twenty decibels, [i thank you, i'm here all week] to a much more muted, one hundred d.b on the old noise meter, i'm rocking a massive yellow and black reg plate, [which i reckon is knocking 15mph off the top end] and i'm seriously trying to behave, [except when a knob on a cbr 600 passed me and dangerous at sixty in a thirty limit and i saw red and stuck it up him on my favourite left-hander on 'our' test road, i wonder if he told his mates he'd been dicked by a bloke on a 'inckley wearing an open faced arai, levis and cat boot's?] anyhoo, i've sold the red 900ss ducati, why? well, although it was a great bike, i reckon i needed to spunk around 1500 to 2000 english pounds to bring it up to my obsessive-compulsive standard, i got a good offer for it and dangerous has decided he's going all hipster on me and can't live without a ducati scrambler, so, i've bought his yellow duc off him because, er, well i like it and it's a lovely bike and er, it's yellow. ah yes, 'the peaky blinder' ducati trackbike project you say? well, it's currently up at nelly's, [cornerspeed], for a re-flash on the ecu and a dyno run, i'm keeping my finger's crossed for 57-58 bhp at the back wheel and around 155 - 160kg which will give us a good power to weight ratio and should make for a very entertaining daytime mot / trackbike. having a ride up tomorrow to find out, stay classy...........

change your ways

the police do a great job, dirty, dangerous and distressing, no, i'm being serious, i have a lot of respect for them, if some toe-rag is breaking into your house at night you ain't going to be calling 'ghostbuster's' to sort shit out, imagine having to tell someone's nearest and dearest they won't be coming home tonight due to a serious road accident? what about keeping the peace so we can all go about our daily lifes? nah, not something i could do, some low-life piece of shit gobbing in your face? could you keep your temper? i know i couldn't.
           but, [there's always a but, usually before the bullshit] let me tell you what is happening in god's own county, or derbyshire as we call it. there seems to be a campaign to get the local bike night closed down. m.f.n. or, 'miles from nowhere' hosts a couple of bike nights a week during the spring / summer months, monday usually attracts more classic / custom / harley owners, wednesday is more geared towards the sportsbike crew, but, on a hot summer night basically everyone is welcomed from the local scooter lads to panigale trackday refugees, basically anyone interested in anything with two wheels. it's all cool, no attitudes even from the local hells angels who have a ride down every now and then, most people are supping an ice cold coke rather than quaffing vast amounts of ale, noshing a burger and chatting, chilling and checking out the bikes. m.f.n is the former shipley boat inn, situated down a private road and next to the erewash canal, it's literally 'miles from nowhere' no near neighbours to disturb, unfortunately the surrounding roads to m.f.n are all 30 limits through residential areas and the locals are up in arms regarding the noise and 'speeding bikers'.
        i noticed it late last year, heading home after a couple of hours at m.f.n, the police camped at the end of the private road, not just the local bobby but traffic officers, they had the occasional ride down through the pub car park, almost like a show of strength, a.r.v's [armed response vehicles] and a quite intimidating prescence. i started to hear rumours of bikes getting stopped going to mfn a couple of weeks ago, then, i ran into big steve and gadger last week and they told me of their experience. both lads ride harleys, they aren't tear-arse's, just normal, bike riding blokes, [steve has six harleys, a suzuki sportsbike and an old sr 500 yamaha cafe racer in the shed, gadge has two triumphs and two harleys] on the ride to m.f.n they got a tug, the aforementioned a.r.v and v.o.s.a [the vehicle operating standards agency] the police can stop you, v.o.s.a can inspect any vehicle. steve and gadge had a torrid time, small number plates, [steve responds with 'thirty quid? i'd pay that everytime rather than ride with a placard on the back!' bad move, the fine is now sixty quid, but, they can give you a ticket for what they want, ker-ching! that's a hundred pounds then! me and steve go back a long way, he's always been a gobby fucker, but, i'd trust him with my life. the v.o.s.a man decides to inspect his bike further, vance and hines pipes! he shines his torch up the pipe and states 'ahha, there's no baffling in here, no noise retention at all, i can see your exhaust valves!' further investigation reveals no b.s marks on the pipes. a n.i.p is issued, [notice of intended prosecution] then the clincher, the v.o.s.a man informs them that they can impound ANY vehicle that they own, it's a £500 pound tow in and then forty quid a night 'storage' fee per bike, the 'administration' or, sorting the paperwork usually takes six week's! now, i'm no mathematical genius, but, even i can work out that's going to cost you a lot of hard-earned especially x8 bikes that you own.
   the horror stories continue through the week, an old boy on a '55 / '56 velocette barn-find gets a tug by the same mob, no bs marks on his exhaust, [which incidentally he has bought through the velo owners club] he stands his ground and argues the b.s. stamping wasn't even out when the bike was made, no chance, a hundred and fifty quid fine for non-standard pipes!
      mid-week i decide enough is enough, i go and buy standard, legal reg plates for all my bikes, they are horrible. i'm not trying to out run the law, the smaller plates just look better and are more aesthetically pleasing but i'm fucked if i'm going to risk having my bikes impounded.
   fast forward to bank holiday monday, me and dangerous are sitting outside a well known bike shop, polystyrene cup in hand, quaffing hot tea and watching the bikes come and go. to a man, sportsbike / harley / streetfighter / cruiser / bmw, hard panniered, top-boxed tourer they gun it from the shop, rev limiter kicking in, wheely's and just anti-social behaviour, all in the 30mph speed limit.
    i love motorcycles me, they are my passion, i wake up dreaming about them, go to sleep at night reading about them, spend thousands of hours working on them and making stuff for them, but, i feel we may be a tad responsible for our own downfall after-all?...............

trigger hippy

the oil cooler on the peaky blinder was, well, to put it bluntly, fucked. a 916 item, cable tied to the frame, the oil lines too long, just horrible. a search on evil-bay turned up a brand new, 7-row earl's cooler, never fitted and still in the box, i put on a cheeky bid and bugger me! i actually win it, i never win anything me, always the daft, fat kid falling over in the egg and spoon race at school, no-one ever picked me for their team at football, standing against the wall, wishing the ground would swallow me up and always left-back, [yeah, i know, left-back in the changing room!] i had no skill, i just smashed the opposing centre forwards into the ground, i spent more time walking off the pitch after a red card than i did on it, ended up punching someone with more skill than me, he 'megged me, shouted 'nuts!' as the ball went between my legs, kicked out at him and caught him a pearler, ref blow's up, player calls me a wanker and takes a swing, i punch him, early bath for both of us. i return to school after the weekend and got called into 'nunc's' [the fearsome welsh headmaster's office for some corporal punishment for disgracing the school's honour]. i scored one goal in my school career. i didn't know anything about it. a routine corner and being a big, clumsy twat, i was summoned up from defence, [my job was to cripple the opposition defender's] the ball somehow ended up hitting me on the back of the head after an attempted clearance and bounced into the goal! like my old p.e. teacher used to say, 'they all count youth,  even if it goes in off your arse!' anyhoo, back to the plot, the o.e. oil cooler on the supersport ducatis mount off the valve inspection covers on the front cylinder, they can be mounted high, above the front cylinder, or, below the front cylinder. if you mount them 'low' they are in the direct line of fire from road debris kicked up off the front tyre, leading to a possible stone to cooler matrix interface interaction and everything associated with dumping the contents of the engine all over the front tyre at 60 pounds per square inch pressure,  not good. cut out a couple of angles out of some box section in the stock bin, drilled to mount the cooler and cleaned up on the miller, quick scotch-brite to finish, turned up a couple of spacer's to get the correct centres, sorted. going to rubber mount the cooler off a couple of drilled out tap-washers to take out any vibration, going to turn up four waisted spindles to support the top and bottom of the oil cooler and stop any 'yawning' just need to sort out some new hoses to feed the cooler and it's ready for some oil and a trial start, can't wait, nearly there now......

red right hand.....

realisation kick's in. i set off with the idea of just building a track-day only bike, hum, let's just have a reality check here, i do, in a good year, five track-days, averaged out? err, three, not exactly value for money or maxing out the use of the bike then bailey? so, a re-think is in order. right, daytime mot, just the bare minimum to be 'almost' legal. speedo, rear brake light and horn, [theres actually no such thing as a 'daytime mot', basically, if it isn't fitted to the bike, then, well, you can't mot it] but, that opens up a whole suitcase of norweigan skunk-weed and leffe blonde altogether. the dreaded 'construction and use' regulations, a whole load of shit, the sort of shit that does happen and the sort of shit that will see you, your mum and grand-ma tasered, beaten and pepper-sprayed and then shipped off to some godforsaken habitat to serve out a sentence of thirty-years hard labour, bread and water and beastings in the shower for the crime of running a motorcycle with a small numberplate and no indicators. sorry, i know it's not in the public interest, i'm a criminal, but, i'm fifty-six, i'm not trying to bait the law, i just think my bike look's cooler without a headlight / indicators / big number plate, i'm not trying to outrun the law, let's face it, if i was i would do what i used to do in the seventies and take my plate off, wheelie past pc plod in his escort, flick him the 'english archers' and leave them for dead in a haze of unburnt hydrocarbon's. nahh, i just want to run a bike on the road, do some trackdays and i'm prepared to take the risk, i've got a great bloke to mot my bike, i don't expect him to risk his business. he notes down everything as an 'advisory'. he know's the score. hardcore. sorted. and that was a partly typical broadcast on behalf of the 'bloke building stuff in his shed' party. a little concerned about getting a stone in the belt's now i've decided to run the bike on roads as well as doing trackdays. cut down the front belt cover, drilled and filed to shape and hit it with a can of 'wheel-silver'. turned up some frame end plugs, two drilled to carry the back-light, waiting for mad-john to finish off my paintwork so i can figure out a mouunting for the plate / light, cleaned up the rusty-as-fuck header pipes with scotch-brite, [bit shiny at the mo. can't wait for them to get that 'wheaty' colour that stainless get's when it get's hot] oh yeah, needed some more carciogenic stuff in my lung-holes too. cut out a cardboard pattern, [i'm ten again and watching blue-peter, this time around though i haven't got an adult to help me with the sharp-stuff] cardboard pattern over the carbon and cut and file with a hacksaw and file, by the end of the night i'm coughing up thick, black snot and the bikes are covered in dust, but, well, can you dig it......?

header photo, an explanation. trawling back through my pictures revealed this one from, i guess twenty years ago, it's definetly post- kent show years, i'm guessing around 1995, to the left is gordy on his '77 triumph bonneville t140, to the right is nick on his hardtail, post-nuclear melt-down kwacker chop, as low as a snakes belly and twice as hard, all anti-radar, stealth, matt black paint and ribbed hoses feeding the carbs and in the middle, well, that's your's truly on my jim cray tuned bmw cafe racer, yeah fucker's, twenty years before the 'bike shed' wannabe's, remember, this was in the time when shellsuits and day-glo pink ruled the roost, cadbury's boost paint-jobs and the only beard's you ever saw were on the face of homeless people, a chop was something that you ate on a sunday dinnertime and a cx 500 was still a piece of shit, commuter bike [not something to be coveted by the 'born-again' hoxton massive, the shoreditch crew and all the other laahndahn toss-pot's] yeah, we were rocking it back then, in un-fashionable east-midland town's, before it all disappeared up it's own arsehole,  we were building stuff that you can only dream about, in day's before 'artisan' cool bike builders, we were just doing it for ourselves, not to get fetured in a magazine / webzine / or to sell merchandise to impressionable people with no-idea's of their own, we have forgotten more than you will ever know..........

feels like we only go backwards.

so, almost a week wasted, exhaust brackets milled, filed to shape, wet and dry paper to finish and polished, bolt them up and throw them in the scrap bin to weigh in for decent, used stock. can't use them, they are just so wrong. bollock's. time for a re-think. the ducati crankcases have a 10mm hollow through the casting, not used for anything on the 'supersport' series bikes, [perhaps for something on the 'monster's?'] it's ideal to hang a couple of bracket's off to carry the weight of the exhaust header's, set too and fab up a couple of brackets out of scrap stainless, carefully mark up the position and make up a jig to suit. cut off the link pipes from the aftermarket damaged remus ducati performance cans and offer them up. mark the positions up for the correct angle and discover the aftermarket carbon cans are the wrong diameter, double bollocks. i phone nige at nrp exhausts, deep in enemy territory in s'nottinghamshire. he can sort me out today, friday the thirteenth, i mean, what could possibly go wrong? i'm at work extra early door's, shift done and home for 1100hrs, collect the mashings and off to sunny bilsthorpe. meet 'reg' the dog, he's a big boy, nine month's old and a staffy cross with what looks like a pit-bull, while we play, throw the old slipper / chase the lead / wrestle / rag his lead nige patiently sticks our exhaust system together, a proper craftsman, he occasionally flip's up his welding mask to tell us about his various race-bike projects and bollock reg for barking, the milky, early spring sunshine providing light but no warmth to these old bones. nige tig's on a couple of clip's to carry the springs that will tension the carbon cans and provide the 'factory' look, might go 'belt and braces' and add some lock-wiring too between the spring mountings for the full-on tt race bike look. the original exhaust system is manufacured from a very low grade stainless steel, still non-magnetic, but subject to corrosion. at first i thought they were just badly rusted mild steel, a quick check with the magnet revealed there true identity so i hit them with a brass cup brush to remove the worst of the oxidisation and finished them with some 'lions-tongue' rough grade cloth backed paper. hmm, that looks ok, a quick rub over with scotchbrite and i've got the perfect finish, not too shiny just 'right' you know what i mean? i'll post some photo's up of the finished item, these are just 'work-in-progress' shots for now......

she makes my nosebleed....

spring clean day in the loveless shed, 900 duc and the bonny out on the drive, reluctant to start, but they eventually cough into life, the sound of spring, little, new born lambs, baa, baa, baa'ing blackbirds singing and the sound of big-twin's ruining your neighbour's sunday afternoon! fuck 'em! you wouldn't believe the amount of detrious swept up, almost five month's since the shed door has been opened, swarf, dust, old paint, and the crap that gets blown under the up 'n over door, biscuit crumbs that the dogs missed and beer bottle caps, cut-off tie-wrap's, dropped washers and cobwebs, dangerous is cleaning down the miller with an old paintbrush and i'm sneezing and sweeping and revelling in revving the bikes. steaming hot tea quaffed from a chipped mug, cut out a carbon off-cut to strengthen the seat unit and trial mount it for a vis-u-arly, i'm liking it, it looks like it's floating above the seat rails, exactly what i had in mind.........

football, love it, hate it, we are on ninety minutes, two-nil up against a poor birmingham city side who we dicked four-nil at their place on boxing day, we are cruising, three points in the bag, they haven't had a shot on target, just concentrate derby, run down the time, easy-peasy, one of our lads fails to row -zed it, defender dives in, penno, they score, oh well, 2-1 and three points in the bag, nah, we are derby, it's never that simple, just need possesion, run down the clock, no chance,  deep into injury time and they get another goal to nick a point, fucking, bloody, fucking fuck, i hate this game / i love this game, we throw away the chance to go two points clear at the top of the championship, i'm fucking speechless me! anyhoo, back to reality, the oberon filler fitted, love oberon stuff, pure class, my mind flicks to the exhaust, i'm going to clean up the standard downpipes and fit a couple of carbon can's, [same as we ran on the boxer race bike] decide to dick about with the standard hanger brackets, why try and invent the wheel? a little bit of hacksaw and file and i reckon i can 'massage' them into something useable. football. i hate football me.....

soot and stars.

need to fab up some brackets to hold the seat on, the fibreglass seat unit is a 'race-only' item, read, very, very thin fibreglass, i'm thinking a couple of ally 't' brackets and a carbon off-cut pad to support my weight. initially roughed out by chain drilling to shape, finished on the miller. miller head turned to get the rad's on the side, counterbored for mounting hardware, fly cut to get a decent finish. fucking fuck, look's like a streetfighter, the seat rising too high at the back, carefully measure, apply masking tape as a guide and gingerley cut off the mounting stubs from the frame with a junior to lessen the angle, dress with a file and re-tap the welded on frame slugs, seat angles now miles out, couple more cuts on the miller to get to a 15 deg. angle, looks ok. result with the shyster's regarding the carbon-fibre seat unit, like my old ma mavis say's 'a kind word and a head-butt will get it sorted' funny how brave you can be behind the anonymity of a phone or a keyboard........

garageland

paint back from mad john, tanks good, fairing needs some therapy, [he forgot to trim the bottom of the fairing where the lowers fix if you are running a full fairing, i'm not, just the top] so, it's out with a 22 tpi hacksaw blade, held in a rag and i carefully cut the mountings off and file and sand to shape before it goes back for more paint. the carbon seat saga continues, they aren't answering the phone now and my emails are left unanswered, deep joy, looks like thats another £160 spunked for fuck-all. i sometimes wonder how these bastards sleep me. i'm just a normal working class bloke, i can ill afford to lose that amount of money because some twat can't meet their promise, i paid up front on the understanding that it was a two-week turnaround, three months and counting and i'm no nearer to getting my seat. anyhoo, i need to fit the cast aluminium filler into the tank top, i spend an afternoon carefully fettling back the paint on the tank, oh my, it's a tight fit, the cast filler that i had blasted is secured by nine 4mm grub screws that 'pinch' the neck of the tank to secure it, i try and press it in and tighten the screws, no way, i have to abandon it, i need to run a tap through each mounting and grease the screws, bollocks, i sack it, have a beer and listen to craig charles funk and soul show, sometimes it's just better to fold and live to fight another day............

upside down