blood on the tracks

idiot wind..........................

everything's perfect

i'm everyone's dad me, i'm the bloke who shout's at my kid's when they get hurt, what's all that about then? instead of cuddling them and comforting them, i just shout and swear at them, i get angry that they are hurt, what a twat,  i'm feeling my dog's pain, i've had two day's off to look after him, he's a grumpy fucker, bit me big time, i must be getting old, i didn't see it coming, a low, gutteral growl and then? bang! he's got me, gripped and shaking, it's half past whatever and i'm done, i've tried sleeping with him on the sofa, on the floor, put him in the cage, in his basket, he's rattling the cage wall with his plastic 'his master's voice' anti-gnaw collar like a prisoner on death row rattling the bar's on his cell, i'm bleeding, he's bleeding, mr's b wakes from her beauty sleep at the row, comes down stairs and takes over, even dog's need their mum's, she send's me to bed and takes control, [even pissed-off jack russell terrier's know they have met their match against a scottish bird sufering from a lack of sleep] the cut-down o.e.m brake disc is a perfect spacer, mounting the four-pot brembo takes a little more figuring out, a two-angled cut on the miller should suffice, as long as the spokes don't hit the caliper and we don't break through into the piston sweep, fly-cut and offered up. it's looking good, excuse me, need to get back to my dog now, i'm sure you understand.......

three times seven

 the o.e.m triumph front brake is shit. a sliding caliper like you would find on a mid seventies h1 kawasaki and a disc made of cheese, magnetic stainless, rough as a badger's arse, fucking rubbish. i decided to spunk some hard-earned on something that would actually work, something more efficient than a 'john bull' set of rubber brake component's, right, the original disc is a 300mm thing, the aftermarket, full-floating item is 320mm, that's three quarter's of an inch in old school, not a lot i grant you, but ask your girlfriend/wife/partner how crucial that is, get the picture?] beautiful, italian made front, full floaters and wavy rear disc, [i'm not abig fan of wavy disc's normally, i always think 'chain-saw' but, i' don't use my rear brake anyway, so, if we can lose some un-sprung weight, well, why not?] we need to space them out 5mm to fit the brembo caliper's, a quick measure up and why invent the wheel? [so to speak], the stock disc's are wank, cut the carrier out, a quick fettle on the lathe and the perfect spacer to fit the new disc's. the jesus and mary chain, probably the loudest gig i ever went to, 'upside down' 'scuse me? baking powder.......

laika come home...

one week on from weighing in our turnings and swapping them into useable stock, the rearsets are done, stainless fasteners turned and nylon bushes machined, stainless rose joints fitted and short, fat, knurled footpegs done, nyloc's and loctited for piece of mind, i'm really pleased that the rear-mastercylinder is now behind the sidepanel rather than hanging below it, never seen this done before on a false triumph, [same as the headsteady bracket's, watch this space, the aftermarket manufacturer's will be copying this and marketing it as their own idea, just remember, you saw it here first] it's a lot of work, especially bending the actuating arm, filing and polishing the vice marks out of the steel item and then rattle-canning it with matt lacquer so it blends in with the scotchbrited finish of the aluminium parts, the stainless rose-joints, the numbers and letter's turned off the fastener's, all stuff that you don't notice but we do, [like the standard boat-anchor passenger footpeg / exhaust hangers, uglier than russell brands sister, the big, horrible, heavy, sidestand castings, just crying out for mr, hacksaw], bitch of a week, my dog gus isn't well, his cruciate ligament, back right leg, ruptured and he's had to have it removed and now has more titanium in his leg than barry sheene, sometimes bikes just don't matter that much after all....

airbox, snorkels and baffles........

the first of february, blimey, it's almost spring, better get my finger out and get something done on the bike rather than trying to flog 'merch', [must admit, i'm a bit disappointed with the response people, no orders recieved yet, fifty quid, [ or 75 dollar's american for a sticker] is great value, come on, send us some money for fuck's sake, fifteen hundred pounds for a piece of one-off artwork is small change, what's a matter with you? get those cheques, cash and year old  ducati's sent to us for a chance to own a truly iconic piece of, erh, something,,,,,, anyway, let's talk false triumph's, went up to my local dealer's to get a couple of  'consumable' part's, [ a front sprocket tab washer and a clutch cable] 'sorry dude, haven't got those in stock' squeeze me? baking powder?' 'i want a tab washer and a clutch cable for a two-double-oh-five bonneville' 'no, sorry dude, you have to order those, we don't have them in stock' i'm stunned, a couple of basic, service item's? not in stock? call me 'dude' again and i'm going to give you ippon-ken to your cheek-bone you cunt, i'm stunned, dangerous can get bit's for his forty year old, original bonneville off the shelf, in a little town like derby and yet i can't get basic stuff for a nine year old bike? what the fuck? anyway, triumph have to meet all the emission's, they are stifled, baffled and neutered, the induction noise has to be baffled to meet the reg's, we don't give a toss about that, reading stuff on the 'tinterweb reveals that removing the baffles and restrictons in the airbox is a right job, but. the results are well worth it, yeah, it's a bit fiddly, but, not beyond the average shed dweller, i must admit, i gave the parts bloke a hard time, i'm not proud of that, but, i hate being fucked over, i say it like it is, i'm not proud of that but that's the way i am, it's great to have a big, shiny, dealership, but, not stocking service item's? not acceptable to me i'm afraid, i'd expect to wait a couple of day's for fairing panel's painted in the year correct colour but a clutch cable? is it me or what?......

the root of all evil

me and dangerous are proud to present the loveless 'lifestyle' collection for twenty-14,  hand picked item's to make your life better, just buy them and you will gain instant street credibility, our hoodies are carefully selected, big, baggy, washed out and made in a sweat shop in pakistan, especially distressed for that 'in the shop' look, [even though you think shop mean's john lewis or macy's]  just like the ones you can buy in primark or, for our north american brother's, old navy, stickers, beanie hats and 'snoopy' winter-spring collection outerwear, just think 'radar' in the old vietnam war series m.a.s.h, cutting edge slogans, 'loveless, cool as fk' stickers and beanies, [we deliberately missed out the 'uc' so you can wear it to pick up your kid's or take your mum shopping without offending anyone, but, anyone who is down would know we actually meant a very naughty swear-word called fuck], limited edition 'loveless' turnings, from actual parts that we actually make for our actual bikes, [supplied in an actual authentic plastic zip-bag, numbered and signed by dangerous and me] then, we offer our hand made, loveless wine, me and dangerous choose the grapes ourselves, tread them and filter the mashings through a sweaty old sock to bring you a taste experience, [limited edition run, 9000 units only available]  and finally, an actual, original, hand sketched artwork by me, yes, timmy loveless, i like to think this enscapulates the whole ethos of loveless engineering, the fraught tensions of two genius bike builder's, one a conceptial, driven artist, the other, a brilliant engineer, two worlds collide in artistic liberation.........................................................................................

still fighting it

what a strange day. thursday is the new friday. i'm off work today, so, get some domestic's done and down to my favourite 'metal re-cycling ' yard, i love it that you can weigh in a big bag-full of aluminium turnings and trade them in for a shed load of useable, lovely, stock, the weigh in? ten quid, the stock? four quid, or, the price of a mcdonalds big-mac-meal-deal, re-fucking-zult, new tyres today too, metzler lazer's, stock rear's a 130, stuck a 150 on the back and upped the front from a 110  to a 120, new rubber, those little, spiky, things just waiting to be worn down come the spring, oh yeah, there were a couple of bridgeport milling machines in the scrappy's today, one a series one, cnc, unit complete with digital readout, i casually asked how much, 'a oner youth' a hundred pounds, english, for a fucking bridgeport!!! my jessie pay's more than that for a pair of shoe's........stay tuned racefan's, i've decided if you can't beat them, well, i'm going to join them, loveless merch coming soon, wait until you see what i've got in my locker, get ready to consume, all major credit cards accepted, paypal? no problem, why should i bother getting up at sparow fart when i can mug off the general public to buy a t-shirt, tool-roll, [complete with paisley print] or a shit painting by a shit artist, [limited edition, limited edition?, it's limited because there's no-one stupid enough to buy your shit-art that's why], the loveless pop-up show coming soon to a place near you, bmw boxer twin's, cut-down frame rails? exhaust wrap? chunky, firestone tyres? get a room fucker's! lot's of beard's, low-slung jean's, wank journalist's wearing van's, carrying 'satchel's, [not man-bag's] and paying someone to build 'their' project bike on the promise of a couple of inches of exposure in 'their' magazine, warning! warning! the next trend is going to be mz's and northern soul, scooters and football, taxi!, oh bollock's, i've missed the bandwagon,  anyhoo,  it's all good folk's, form an orderly queue ladies and gentlemen, no pushing now...........loveless merch, limited edition's, details tomorrow, selling out? nah, not me..........

at the top of the stairs, [there's darkness]

motown, everybody loves motown, the sound of young america, detroit, motor-city, uptempo, soul sounds, the sheer joy of music that moves you, [well, it moves me, it might not move you, hey man, it's not my fault you ain't got no soul in your old shoes] work again today, in at six in the am, out of there at two in the pm, another day wasted, the bloody rear master-cylinder bracket is turning out to be an epic, cut, cut, machine, fettle, i'm hovering over a 'buy it now' on a honda fireblade on the 'bay, i'm cold and tired and hungry, i can just start it, ride it, adjust the chain and polish the fairing, it's going to get me there and back, no hassle, no headaches but no soul, i've been checking out northern soul do's in derby, february 7th, i'm trying to get the courage to go, thirty-five years after my last all-nighter, oh dear, a trial run tonight see's me attempting a spin and almost rendering myself unconcious after bashing my swede on the fireplace, the dog's barking and attacking me, jack shouting 'turn it down', [excuse me, shouldn't that be the parents doing that, not the kid's?], jess and mr's b laughing at my 'dad dancing' don't give a fuck me, i'm directly linked to berry gordy, i've got soul me, i've got togetherness, i'm just thirty-five year's too late, bummer, bedtime me'think's, my new favourite book, the springfix catalogue, engineering brilliance, night, night everyone,,,,,,,,,