my little girl......

it's all instant gratification nowadays, want music? click buy, back in the day it was just so different, i can't tell you the amount of times my best mate phil and me used to spend searching out rare vinyl in far away junk shops around the country, usually tagged onto following the mighty derby county on their travels around this sceptered island, we used to get the early train, especially when travelling south, to raid the second-hand emporiums for long forgotten records, night's spent in phil's bedroom, listening to tunes, scanning the half-page of 'black-echoe's' weekly paper for the forthcoming all-nighter's and adverts for rare soul records, no instant downloads back then, you had to go to the post office, buy a 'postal order' and send off a letter, if you were lucky, a week later, a jiffy bag would arrive with your record, phil shared a bedroom with his younger brother, steven, who was a die hard heavy metal fan, the brothers shared a dansette-style, mono, record deck and often fought toe to toe for the right to play their respective tunes, we just didn't get it, why would anyone want to look like a homeless person?, straggly beard, biker jacket, [festooned with band names and badges] a cut-off 'jean jacket' fuck that, i'm wearing sta-press, harrington's, ox-blood penny loafers, fred perry's, crombie overcoats, [complete with red, button -down handkerchief in the breast pocket], later on, i'm wearing a sheepskin jacket, 'norwegians', 'karman- gear' multi -pocket bags, prince of wales check's and i still haven't got a girlfriend, [meanwhile, phil's brother, steve, is shagging his way through half the female population of derby even though he look's and smell's like a vagrant, while me and phil continue our quest for cool, but, end up sitting in his bedroom still playing our rare soul, drinking tea and kidding ourselves that we don't need women in our lives!] anyhoo, my daughter jess has decided that her old dad need's to dig out his old vinyl collection and actually play it instead of just letting it sit in the numerous boxes that i've got stashed, i sold my hi-fi equipment a long time ago, nobody want's to play records now, too much hassle, just press 'buy now' so, jess, decides to buy me a proper, old-school record player, we don't need no stinking hi-fi, we are playing old vinyl, some of it fifty years old, why do i need hi-fi? i dig out a box of old records and it all comes flooding back, the crackles and pop's as the needle hits the groove, the scent of old shelack, a thousand wasted hours at all-nighter's, the great smell of brut, waiting for train's on deserted railway stations, spunking a week's wages on a record, 'fry's' chocolate and stealing bottles of milk, thrills, pills and belly aches, talcum powder, the sunday night comedown, work on a monday and counting the hour's until the weekend so you could do it all again, so, i get a parcel, it's an old school, record player, nothing fancy, just like it used to be, proper lo-fi sound,i dig out a random box of records and i'm instantly transported back to better day's and what's really interesting is that jess has turned into a vinyl snob, dismissing the download culture and seeking out real records, my little girl........

classic bike burn-up [part two]

just a snapshot of some of the bikes at the classic bike burn-up, sorry for the poor quality photo's, some numpty had left the camera on the macro setting and in my excitment to get pic's i didn't check the settings, twat! a quick walk around during the dinner time break revealed some real gems, big, brutal jap four's, italian exotica, [when was the last time you saw a ghezzi-brian?] pukka race two-strokes and lovely little road based specials, the red beemer was super quick out on the track, the classic race bikes, the ducati 250 and manx norton i know i've posted pictures of before, moto-martin? yep, check, have a butchers at gary inmans gixxer based special 'the black arrow', naughty, very, very naughty..........

classic bike burn-up [part one]

 so, a month to the day, see's team loveless returning to the lincolnshire wold's for another day of fun and frolics at cadwell park, courtesy of rob and darin at classic bike trackdays and classic bike magazines annual 'burn-up' with mr's b unable to get the day off work, dangerous and chalky were riding shotgun for pit crew duties, [which consists of taking the piss, sitting about while i make the tea and spilling petrol all over the bike while re-fuelling] an early start see's us setting off just as dawn breaks, the sky is leaden and the forecast isn't good, heavy showers coming in from the west, after our usual stop at mcdonald's in sleaford for a java we make the ninety mile journey in just over two hour's. i'm straight down to sign on and get my wristbands for the riders briefing while chalky and dangerous get the bike noise tested, this being a road based trackday i'm on the ducati, [don't want to stretch it too far and turn up with the beemer complete with race tyres etc.] incidentally, thursday nights bike preparation consists of removing the numberplate, mirrors and taping up the indicators, headlight, tail-light and disconnecting the break light switch, oh yeah, and drinking a glass of red wine. anyway, briefings over, numbers and class stickers applied and kettle on, i'm soon called for my first session and have a look at some of the tackle in the holding area, pukka race bikes! lot's of them, bugger! didn't see that one coming, oh well, i recognise some of the lads from previous bhr/crmc practice days and race meetings, out onto the track, two sighting laps and off we go, i'm on a road bike, road tyres and i'm laughing like a drain dicking the usual subjects on g50's, the beezer lads who are at every classic bike meeting, manx nortons, rob north tridents and some of the modern tackle that race in the practical sportsbike series down the straights only to have them ride around me on the corners! what a fucking laugh! the weather clears and the half-hearted shower soon gives way to hot sunshine and perfect track conditions, bloody hell, even my road tyres are 'balling-up' and picking up big gob's of race rubber from the track, the afternoon goes in a blur of general hooning and hooliganism, laugh's and chatting with people, good to catch up with gary from sideburn who was down on his magnificent 'black arrow' special, we talked football, motorcycles and wax cotton tool roll's, all good in the hood. a quick walk around during the lunch break reveals a treasure trove of lovely motorcycles, [more photo's to follow] some serious stuff, not all out on track today, saturday see's the practical sportbike track day and sunday the cadwell park 80th anniversary race meeting, 1830 hours and after my fifth session i decide to call it a day, it's been a long day and i don't want to push my luck too far, we pack up and skin out, by 1930hrs we are sat in the memorial gardens in horncastle, a fish supper from the best fish and chip shop in the world, mermaid fisheries, 70 miles later and after dropping chalky off me and dangerous unload the van in pouring rain, i've had a blast on a bike that stands me at a third of what it cost me to build the beemer, some serious thinking needed about where we go from here then...........................

saturday night in out patients

just been riding, here's some photo's from the founders day rally at stanford hall in leicstershire, instant karma, the heavens opened and i got piss wet through as i passed the triumph factory in hinckley, ten minutes later, hot sunshine, some fantastic bikes here, the theme this year was the old 'flat-tankers' and it was great to see so many vintage bikes, not just trailered or vanned in, but actually ridden, walking around the avenue revealed many hidden gem's just leaning against the tree's, out on the duc monday night, tuesday on the duc again, wednesday, over to mfn, caught up with ammo, bench-donkee's andy, [thanks for the stickers mate], grant and his good lady, chalky sipping a pint of shandy and the ever present harold fresh from his counterfeiting operation with the wristbands to gain access to 'a really big and important classic bike event' fucking great! a septuagenarian displaying punk rock ideology and spitting in the face of a big, corporate organisation, an army of pensioners storming the gates with their dodgy band's, produced on a home computer and their winter heating allowance safe for another year! i can't get my head around the amount of people so packed, i couldn't get my bike out of the carpark when i decided to skin out, anyhoo, the stunt plane was brilliant, he came in fast and low, people were actually ducking as he skimmed the bikes, straight up, up to stall point and just flopping back to earth through the clear, blue ether, oh my, what would i give for a ride in one of those bi-planes, thursday and up to the norton factory at donington hall, the new domi racer and the tt bikes on display, a totally different vibe to wednesday, just super chilled, a cup of tea and a chat with the main honcho responsible for the norton domi-racer project, he explained just how hard it was to prepare each machine for the dreaded S.V.A test, the back light has to be at the furthest point at the rear of the bike, suspended on a horrible 'wheelie-bar' type outrigger, the indicators have a fixed centre and have to be 'e' marked and be of a certain size, then of course is the dreaded emissions test, the bikes are fitted with horrible silencers and cat's as standard, luckily, the bikes come with an optional race kit which includes the beautiful pipes, a re-map and a numberplate relocation bracket, [see the previous post for a photo of how the bike should look] i could spend a whole night just drinking in the details on these machines, bloody lovely, unfortunately dozy-bollock's forgot his camera and the phone pic's aren't wortha wank, so you'll just have to get your arse up there in a fortnight, or, wait until i go back again! the norton boy's were really interested in the view of 'normal' motorcyclists on their bikes and were taking notes and photographing bikes that caught their attention, me being me i asked him a lot of 'awkward' questions, one of the things that bugs me is how high the engine sit's in the frame, 'why can't you just cut the lower frame rails away and use the engine as a stressed member, you can lower the centre of gravity then?' the geezer then goes into an advanced mathematic's answer regarding the stresses that are put through the frame if you use it as a stressed member and i'm shot down in flames, [but, i did notice him scribbling notes in his book, norton 1- loveless 1, points shared, score draw.........

a.w.o.l [alternative way of life]

friday dinnertime at work, still full from the traditional friday morning fry-up, i make the lad's a brew and pull out the big plastic box out from under my bench and dive in to find an old magazine to peruse while i drink my tea outside in the sunshine, now, a little explanation is needed here, my name is timmy and i'm a magazine and book addict, [ i can't get my head around reading off a computer screen or i-pad, yes, i've downloaded the kindle app, but, for me i like the real-deal and let's face it, who takes their i-pad into the toilet to read when their having a dump? just saying] anyway, my magazine collection is divided into three sections, the 'essentials' those collections you will never get rid of, 'classic racer', selected copies of 'performance bikes', 'classic bike' and the '70's and 80's 'bike' [especially the 'team bike endurance features], mid 90's copies of the david snow/ghengis 'iron horse' the tattoo magazines, the first fifty copies of 'dice', the first fifteen copies of 'greasy culture' and the first seven copies of 'sideburn' then there's the hotrod magazines, the football fanzines, copies of the punk  'sniffing glue' and '80s style-bible 'the face'. then we have the mag's that just get piled up in the shed, read, flicked through and piled up ready for  re-cycling or passed on to one of the many waif's and stray's who happen to visit and pick them up and ask, 'can i borrow this?' and they dissapear, never to be seen again. and then, there's those mag's that don't quite make it into the collection, but are too good to hit the recycling pile, these are the mag's that end up under my bench at work, ready for some long forgotten bike or article to be rediscovered and that's how i found this 1994 copy of AWOL, bloody hell! that's twenty years ago, as i'm idly flicking through, i realise what a different place the world was back then, no internet instant gratification, 'professional' bike-builders could be counted on one hand, everyone was just doing what they could in their shed's, no big, shiny, 'biker-lifestyle' emporiums punting out stick-on beards, pendletons, redwings and wallets on chains to the bro's, no nine-grand 'artisan built' bmw's or bubble-wrap plastic trinkets for your hardly-dangerous, a time when people built raked out lambretta chops, vespa street racers, triumph hillclimbers and went on demo run's to protest against anti motorcycling legislation, not just rode around london in their best suit looking dapper, it was a time of kicking against the jam's, of belonging to something that mattered, not just catching your reflection in a shop window and looking cool, building your own bike, dancing 'til dawn, a crossover of cultures, sharing tin's of co-op beer, 'herbal cigarettes' and idea's, fixing bikes and punk rock, dancing to the fire alarm at a prodigy gig,  siphoning petrol from one tank to another,  from punky, alternative matt black scooter 'hardly-rideables' a gang of hard riding cut down scooter riding nutters who attended all the big motorcycle action group rallies and protest runs, to the donkey jacket and ncb booted streetfighter boys on hacked gixxers, the rave culture survivors, dreadlocked drum and bass refugees, all searching the next party, AWOL summed it all up really, 'alternative way of life' not the trend driven fashionista, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous fucking bullshit, photo-opportunity, twitter-driven wankers, as a footnote, the last picture is my bmw boxer twin, yeah, twenty years ago, ex-met-police traffic bike, how ironic is that?, i suppose if i'd cut the arse off my bike and put a 'wrench-monkee's/bratsyle seat on it now instead of two-decades ago then i might just have been famous and swapping spit with david beckham? police tank complete with cutout for the phone? let's make a stainless rack for it, just like an old meriden triumph, watch this space, appearing at a trendy blog near you soon, everything old is new again, to quote a great song by the supernaturals, 'every silver lining has a cloud and each piece of good fortune must be paid for by the pound, i've become so cynical these days, i don't know how it started but it won't go away, see the lines around my eyes, see the sarcasm in my smile, you'd better smile, cause that's all you've got left, your life's a mess, you've been cut adrift, you better smile......'