steve mcqueen vs dangerous dave

you can't take it with you

nasty, horrible, silver-painted wheel nuts, ugly, standard clutch and brake levers, fat, stupid handlebar grips, massive, 'joe 90' indicators and baboons arse rear light unit and the toss front master cylinder cover, watch and learn my young apprentice, help is at hand, renthal 'shorty' grey, sticky 'grip's in a medium compound, a bastard to fit, [remember, the grips are for seven/eighth's diameter bar's, the bonnies are one-inch] warm them gently with the jessica loveless hair-dryer until they become more malleable, a good bit of old fahioned spit or 'gob' for us brit's and work them on, tight fit but if your'e careful they will go on without ripping, oberon, what can i say about the english company's stuff? perfection personified, engineering brilliance, you buy it, fit it and it works, ordered my stuff at the bike show in brum on saturday, received it tuesday, mini indicators, multi-adjustable clutch-brake lever's master cylinder cover, lovely, i want to lick them, yep, they really are that lovely, warning, warning, those shit,  oem wheel spindle nuts are consigned to the bin, these beauty's are titanium cr500 item's, i matched them up from the thread pitch, got some for the ducati too, [same pitch, had them on the 750ss]  twenty english pounds each, [and that's still less than a hooded sweatshirt from your favourite, trendy fucking blogspot, know what i'd rather spend my hard-earned on]  had to work a deal to get them for that price, fuck it. you can't take it with you..........

as you lean into the light

late november. only one place to be. me and dangerous make our way down to the national exhibition centre for the second time this month, the 'motorcycle live' show in birmingham, we arrive around lunchtime, the queue's are gone and we get straight in, cup of java in hand, bloody hell it's rammed, a spontaneous round of applause breaks out, 'fuck me dangerous, we're famous!' 'you really are a twat bailey' replies the dark one, 'that's prince william checking out the new super-leggara on the ducati stand' i make out i knew that all along and realise that motorcyclists really are a bunch of ugly fuckers, no wonder we wear full face helmets, it looks like an audition for 'britains got munter's' all the tribes are here today, from the flat-peaked baseball cap, low-slung, pant exposing bsb youngsters, the dyed-in-the-wool classic fan's, the steely-eyed trackday warriors, the mcc boy's with denim and leather cut-off's proudly displaying their 'sheep-dip 1990' rally badges and allegiance to their local backpatch mc club, the dreaded up, vans wearing graphic designers, expensive camera's taking in details to be regurgitated as their own, bored girlfriends and bored wife's and bored kid's, the 'shoreditch connection' fresh from their 'distinguished gentleman's' terror inducing ride-out through londinium, all ruby helmeted, 'selvedge' big 'e' vintage denim, redwing's, belstaff's and wallet's on chains, flat tweed capped and 'movembered' fascinating really, anyhoo, the bikes, the cx 500 'plastic maggot' honda, brilliant, the ben kingham built 'brick' a road going version of his bhr 'b.e.a.r.s' racer, the ducati diavel police bike, [can't help thinking if this hoved into view in your rear view you would try and race it until he came past you and turned on the blues and two's, still, be wicked with a couple of akra race pipes and a small number plate to really take the piss and earn some resec' amongst the biking community]  the norton domi-racer look's cool-as-fuck, saw it in it's raw state in the isle of man back in august, carbon wrapped seat jarred a little then, now? lovely, i want one and by the way, there really isn't anything in those pipes, open, no baffles, zilch, nothing the lamb norton in gulf colour's? worked for me, the race bikes? grumpy's gs1000 ama era superbike, the milwaukee yam, the tiny 675 triumph, gwinter's apprillia, scott reddings union jack silverstone kalex, michael's big classic tt suzuki, the warr's xr harley, [and the 'silent grey fellow' flatty] the mcqueen mettise desert racer and the racefit bmw all perfect. i like the bike show at the n.e.c. where else can you sit on every new motorcyle going and compile a list of bike's you would buy when that elusive lottery win finally comes good and let's face it, where else are you ever going to get the chance to rub shoulder's with dangerous, prince william and me...........

trompe le monde

'trompe le monde', literally, ''fool the world' as you can probably guess, i'm caning the pixies at the moment, i'm getting more inspiration from music to build this 'false triumph' than any hip blogsites, too c[k]ool for skool, bearded, plaid shirt wearing, newly tattooed, hard-man 'bro' dirty, oil leaking, piece of shit and neglected isn't 'cool', it's just poorly maintained and say's you are more interested in portraying some sort of  'image' than a genuine interest in motorcycles, hated the handlebar clamps from day one, too high, what to do, buy replacement's? nah, stick them on the miller and cut them up, machine the same amount off the top, tap the bottom 'riser' to suit a bolt, [the original is a hex head that sit's inside the bottom clamp] hit the horrible rubber-mounts with a spray can, they disappear under the bottom yoke now, turn up a couple of stainless bolts, dish the head's, why do i bother? no-one will ever see them, mount up the bars, check out the pic's, 8 + 9, that's why, can you see that? closer to the top yoke, no-one will ever notice, 'trompe le monde' oh yeah, fitted an  r and g tail tidy, very nice piece of kit, except, the led tail-light is fucked from the get-go, dissapointed? nah, i expect it me........

gigantic

normal service resumed, 'surfer rosa' by the mighty pixies, what an album, 1988, really? time really does fly, nitromorsed the harley davidson, 883r sportster bars back to their bare stainless finish, quick rub with a couple of strips of scotchbrite, sorted, that lovely, satin, soft finish, i'm dead chuffed, old stuff re-cycled and just perfect, except, as i sit back with a brew, it's not quite right, the bar's? perfect, it's the handlebar clamps, [risers] too tall, they stand too tall off the top yoke, [triple tree's] right, i've decided, no more american translations, learn english you wankers, 'fenders'? pah, there a make of guitar,  'header's'? that's what we do at football, [never, ever 'soccer', it's FOOTBALL] happy thanksgiving day by the way, a hundred million turkey's can't be wrong, get the handlebar clamps in the lathe and hit 'em up with the miller, cluck, cluck, lathe, chuck, cluck, cluck, chuck, miller, lathe, chuck.......