Thursday, 17 August 2017

Ride fatty ride

I'm too fat. I mean way too fat. It makes my leathers wince when I go to put them on and I look bad and ride crap because I'm too fat. The answer is simple, be less fat. I used to ride a bicycle, I mean we all used to right? Down the woods or up the bomb hole, tearing around on Raleigh's finest with cow horn bars and sturmey gears. Metal flake paint from the local motor factors and fatty tyres from the local bike shop. I don't know where cow horn bars came from I got mine from a kid at schools brother. He'd been expelled and I think he just went out nicking all day. Later I got a mountain bike, it was purple and I became less fat. I spent all day out doing grown up riding, OS maps and power bars, clipless pedals and all that shit, it was still fun and this got distilled when I started to ride to work. Good days were for motorbikes other days I cycled. The gears bust so I got rid of them and rode 32:16, it works for everything if you've got the thighs for it. Brakes got better the rest got shittier, dirt is good and rust is honest. Change of direction jobless, overseas for work then, BANG company car and paid for lunches, KFC a day keeps health away. Ten years later and you wake up one day a fat bastard, you fat bastard, you FAT BASTARD!!!!! So I've built this, part mountain bike, part BMX part bomber bike from down the bomb hole, it's a bomber, it's a BOMBER! I'll have to take baby steps, get my arse in shape and in gear, or though no gears here and see if I can't turn back the wheels of time to a time when my wheels turned all of the time. To go forward you need to look backwards.

Sunday, 16 July 2017

Track marks

Back on track or at least riding on one again. I did the Friday evening session at Rockingham last week. The usual suspects tearing it up while I keep station at the back, back marker, marking time. Slow out fast in to trouble, the sighting laps were three slow train coming to an abrupt end as the green flag spelled danger. I was tipping into the first corner, harassed and harried by the fast boys getting on it when it's all over, some poor soul binned it into the back section, red waving and into the paddock. That was pretty much the colour of the evening, out and in, in and out as rider after rider decided to spoil their weekend with an earth, sky, black and blue boogie. I sat the last session out with a goosed chain, that big V twin beats up the transmission and two track days on last gasp chain and sprockets has done for it. Given the way the evening had gone I was no way going to throw a chain and take another rider out or catch it in the engine and join the party in the first aid post. Mark's ZX6's rear tyre shagged out so we sat on the wall watching Tony destroying his rear tyre and fireblades in equal measure. He's so quick it's frightening a seven hundred quid CB500 really shouldn't be taking scalps and giving lessons but there it is making grown men cry and think about taking up golf. Another red in the fast group and it's all done for the evening. Still a great time, time spent with your mates riding bikes is as good as it gets roll on the next one.




Thursday, 6 July 2017

Missing in action

Where the fuck was I? It's hard to keep a train of thoughts when the tracks are owned by one bunch of neurons and the rolling stock is a mixed bag of british rail and hornby. Bollox I guess I'm here and now so that'll have to do. I bought another motorbike and for once I actually bought one I like. It's a Cagiva with a Suzuki engine in it and it's great. Big and daft it does everything. I rode it at Rockingham race circuit and had a ball, I even managed to pass a few people so I guess I'm less of a wanker than I thought I was. The bikes had me deep in thought. Twisting my melon man, I'm not a clip-ons dude I've decided. Everytime I have fun it's with crosser bars or chopper bars so that's where I need to be. Pinkie has to go so it will do either to my fickle friend or up on eBay and some other thing will take it's place in the borrowed lockup where my toys live, I reckon a 610 Husky should rock my roll. I've had a thing for them for a while but we'll have to see.
Above is a gratuitous picture of my old CCM. A bike that I loved even though it tried to do me in a couple of times.
Below is the new Cagiva, Pierre Terrablanche's proto multistrada and my new best mate

Happy days  apparently    



Thursday, 23 March 2017

Thoughts of Chairman Poo

Left wing, right wing you can stuff the lot, have a cup of tea and put a record on.

Wanker!

This is me, wrecking a cross ply for shits and gigs. There's a purity to this, a don't give a fuck two fingers to the law and the law won billy big bollox arrogance that time and age has dulled but not diminished. The bikes a Z1300, a big and stupid thing that only really impressed stupid people, I was impressed. It was my daily rider, I went to work on it, went down the pub (the only one that served us pub) and went down on the ice on it. The tyre was wankered after this and I didn't have the money to buy another one so I rode it burnt and bald till pay day. If you see me buy me a cup of tea and I'll tell you lies about how good it was back in the hey day, how we couldn't get served in pubs and how bike shops hated us. I hate bike shops now and pubs will let me have the virginity of their first born as long as I buy a meal and a pint to keep the wolf from the door. It wasn't better then and it's not better now, it's all the same old bollox only now we're the fatted calf for the slaughter bring your daughter there's plenty to go around. Fat bikers cheques don't bounce.

Knock off

I robbed this off of someone who robbed it from someone else to make their page/blog look cool. I don't care about looking cool I'm a broken crank caller with no shame, I just think it looks cool in its own right, it's just epic paint. Probably belongs to weirdy beardy hipster, single estate latte drinker who had a friend do it as a part of their art degree, but I'm just a lite and bitter twisted old bugger so I wouldn't listen to me.

Monday, 13 March 2017

Hobo

Well as of St Patrick's day this week I am officially of no fixed abode. My house sale will complete at 1pm. I've got bikes stashed all over the place along with over thirty years of tools and equipment while I look for a cheap to rent workshop and I'm sleeping on my narrow boat. My parents always knew I'd end up like this living outside of society. Hey ho let's go. The possibilities are endless and the thread of life has a few less knots in it now.