classic tt / manx gp 2015 [part two]

saturday, first day of racing at the classic tt dawns overcast but dry, the forecast is fair, unlike the rest of the british isles, [it's a bank holiday weekend for fucks sake, what do you expect?] a walk down to the local co-op in port st. mary for a bag of salad, tomatoes, red pepper humous, a selection of very, very smelly cheese's and some whole wheat wraps, stuffed into my day-sack and off to braddan church, tea and cake all day long courtesy of the w.i. just a great place to watch the racing, commentary via manx radio, sitting in the warm sunshine and a wander around the parked bikes during races reveals why i come back here, the tough as fuck goldwing , matt black cutdown, [bobber? bob my arse you seeyouen.T!] it's a cutdown, simple, paired to the bone, just like it should be, not some 'trying-too-hard-mad-max-look-a-likey] the rigid triumph and the hard-as-nails, proper old school gsx suzuki, original, [why did we ever think they were cool, rectangular headlight and chunky rear seat unit] upside downers, three-spoke dymags, mono-shock conversion, just rock-hard, maria costello's 'lil two-stroke, i'm a real sucker for two-strokes, the real sound and smell of road racing, the two kawasaki's, mint, ducati, on the bench, broke and trying to get mended, [what else did you expect?] the amazing 500cc, egli vincent comet, pete boast's 500 honda, oh my, sheer music.........andy molnars, four-valve, manx norton, suzuki, original two-valver endurance endurance racer, non of this bandit engined bollock's going on here, a snip at sixteen thousand big-one's, motosachoce? never, ever seen one before, but, you know what? i like it a lot, panigale, mike hailwood, '78 comeback colours, brilliant, bsa traily and well 'ard suzuki, just the best day ever, loads of mileage, laugh's, nearly running out of fuel, everything that bike's should be about, watching the sun go down over port st.mary, sorted......

if you want blood [you got it]

'false' triumph gone, i'm going to build one of these me, if you want blood, you got it.........

always, all ways, [apologies, glances and messed up chances] goodbye to the 'false' triumph........

as soon as i rode the hyper-retard it was over for the 'false' triumph, i told dangerous, 'that's it, i'll never ride the bonneville again' i've had some good times on the triumph, [just ask the twat on the kawasaki zxr, blah, blah, blah, who tried to race me down the wirksworth road! wonder if he told his mates he got royally dicked by a nob on an 'inckley bonneville, open faced arai and cat boots?' sold to a very nice bloke, last ride on it today to drop it off, really enjoyed it, but, time to move it on, bye, bye, bonny, hello........?

classic tt / manx gp 2015 [part one]

dangerous is the most miserable fucker in the world. he doesn't 'do' mornings, anytime before , oh, let;s see, 1030hrs and you are risking a short, sharp, 'FUCK OFF!' he was absolutely delighted when i informed him we had an 0600hrs start to set off to the classic tt / manx gp. i love it me, i was like a kid on xmas eve, tossing and turning, up at 0400hrs, shave, shower and brew, sitting in the shed, buzzing, ready to go, cleaned my visor three times, checkd the oil twice, at dangerous's for quarter to six, he's as grumpy as fuck, 'i need fuel' for fuck's sake, talk about piss-poor-preparation-prevent's-piss-poor-performance! down to the lion garage, thankfully twenty-four hour, fill up, engines warm now, ten miles out, getting into a rythmn, there's a flashing from behind as we approach ashbourne, i pull over, dangerous pulls in alongside, 'i've left my glasses at the garage youth, i've got to go back' 'you didn't have them on when i got to your's' 'oh, well, i'll have to go back and pick them up then' to say i'm chuffed is an understatement, back to dave's, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck! glasses sorted we retrace our steps, making good progress, bloody hell, summers gone, it's cold, i'm layered up, but by congleton i've had enough, fingers white and cramped, dithering like a bridegroom, i pull into mcdonalds for a coffee, park up, gloves stuffed next to the exhaust, warming my hands in the gent's, the warm air dryer a luxury. onto the motorway, mayhem ensues as we carve through the suprisingly heavy for this time in the morning, bank holiday traffic. into liverpool, aiming for the liver building that marks the entrance to the steam packet ferry, board, coffee and we are underway. a couple of hours pass, i'm hanging on, it's rough! dry land and we join the traffic into douglas, straight up to the grandstand, park up in nobles park, meet up with chalky, a quick walk around the pit's, dave roper is warming up the rare-as-a-virgin-in-ilkeston ajs porcupine, next door the beautiful bimota, a squirt up to creg- ny- baa for evening practice, the two german bikes, a triumph bonneville, long chopper, raked out, leather bagged and not a plaid shirt or beard in sight, the spirit of kent, the flat-tanked, rigid, flat grey, foot- boards, sprung saddled panhead, cool personified, couple of pints, chip butty, thirty mile ride down to the south of the island,  blurry photo of bradda head and a solo ride down into port erin to look at the fishing boats in the harbour, 'night, night...........'

classic tt / manx gp

well, a year gone already and it's time for the classic tt / manx gp again, i booked the ferry and dig's last november,[ not that i'm obsessed or anything...] it's just something i have to do, it's not just about that fabled 37 and two bits of tarmac that make up the legendary tt course, it's the whole feeling that you get on this little island in the middle of the irish sea, just the stuff of legends, so much glory and for some, so much heartbreak, if you have any leaning towards the two-wheeled life it's just essential to do it. this year i'm taking two bikes, 'peaky blinder' is already there, courtesy of chalky who has hitched it to his trailer along with his triumph, so i can ride at the festival of jurby next sunday, [and hopefully have a couple of 'brisk' laps of the tt course too!] i'm riding over on the hyper-retard along with dangerous on the scramber tomorrow, we are up at stupid 'o clock friday to make the journey up to liverpool for the ferry, the weather is not looking good and more importantly for me, the crossing looks like it may be a tad 'entertaining' [sorry, i'm no sailor me, give me high, fast roller coasters - no problem, but, bloody boats, i could spew on a duck pond me...] oh well, at least the sea gulls should get some breakfast! so, that's it then, no posts for a week, like cilla used to say ta-ra chuck.......

everybody loves the sunshine...........

ride out this afternoon with dangerous, lot's of tea drunk and hooligan behaviour, every set of traffic lights turns into an opportunity for wheelies and stoppies, we some how end up causing mayhem in sheffield city centre after a wrong turning, as we escape the city and arrive in buxton cue 'god's own thunderstorm' fuck! within seconds we are soaked to the skin! nothing to do but just enjoy it, rooster tails of spray and no discernible decrease in speed, i love this bike, [mrs b has already christened it the 'hyper-retard'] instead of trying to miss the puddles and surface water i'm deliberately riding through them, dicking about and laughing like a drain, the storm gets heavier, dangerous needs a pee, i need a pee, he pulls up on the pavement, under a hedge, suitably relieved i ask why he's parked up on the pavement, 'well, i don't want to get my bike wet' hey, everybody loves the sunshine............

made in england

last weekend i trapped up to darley moor to catch the british historic racing meeting, paid my twelve quid, parked up and watched the always entertaining scooter races before having a walk around the pits, always for me the most interesting part of a race meeting, snatches of conversation, people working on bikes, the loyal army of wives / girlfriends / partners making tea /sandwiches /offering support and kind words when the weekend is going to rat-shit, brilliant. a whole world away from all the pretentious 'look at me and how cool i am' bollocks that i'm growing to despise. in a far off corner i spotted a couple of bikes that stopped me in my tracks, a dohc vee- six bsa, belt driven cams and a dohc belt driven triple bsa, i just stood and stared me, not quite comprehending what i was seeing, after twenty minutes or so i noticed a heavily tattooed bloke slumped in a fold out picnic chair watching me as i walked around the two bikes, i was reduced to just uttering 'fuck' 'fucking hell' 'what the fuck' i bombarded him with questions, why? how? he patiently informed me that he had made the crankshafts, what the fuck! had the cams made, the belt drive was 'just a temporary measure until he could figure out gear driven cams' holy cow batman! there's me dicking about in the shed and then there's pure fucking genius! carbs? 'temporary again, i'm making my own fuel injection system! game over, i'm going to order some rim-tape for my hypermotard, that'll show 'em.........

oop's!, i did it again

i remember the first time i saw a ducati hypermotard, me and dangerous went into a 'well known, midlands, motorcycle dealer' and there it was, whoa! my initial thoughts were i don't know what it is but i really, really like it! i couldn't take my eyes off it, for once i was literally speechless, poring over the details, the underseat exhaust, the 'beak' the tiny headlamp, rear light aero-foil thing , the single sided swing arm, the back wheel 'floating' in mid air, the fork protectors, radial brakes, abbreviated front mudguard, just so beautiful and so different, then i looked at the price tag, not for the common working man, just unobtanium.
 scroll forward seven years, i sold the 900ss, sold 'yellow-hammer' and had a garage clearout of all my redundant 'spares' and i was in a position to purchase an eleven plate, two owner, low mileage 796 hyper from a kawasaki dealer in britains second city, two new pirelli rosso's, new belts, oil and filter, three months warranty, six months tax and a tank of fuel sealed the deal.
      the original bar end mirror / indicator combo had been replaced with ducati performance items, horrible, sticking out like mickey mouses ears, first thing i did when i got home from picking the bike up was take them off, got them on the 'bay and purchased oberon bar end indicators and a mirror, to fit the indicators required sawing off the end of the bar's as they have a machined section to fit the oem parts. mrs b's face was a picture, [and her language a tad 'fruity' to say the least when she bought me a cup of tea into the shed to find me attacking the bars with a hacksaw!] 'tim, for fu[ inaudible as she slips into scottish] 'you've had it less than twenty-four hours and your cutting it up already!'
       so, i've got my hypermotard and the more i look at all the goodies you can get for them, the carbon, titanium, the exotic exhausts, blah, blah, blah, the more i'm thinking that i might just keep this one [almost] stock, i'm loving the performance, the quiet pipe, the big numberplate, i'm mr anonymous, especially behind that black visor. no one acknowledges you, not sports bike riders, harley riders or tourers or the too kool for skool 'brand new, your retro' beardies and that's something i'm revelling in............