Sexy New Rubber

Today Winnie is booked in for an MOT at David Ross's place so yesterday I took her over to the Two Wheel Tyre Centre on Queslett Road for some sexy new rubber.

On the way I accidentally spun the back wheel up. This became my amusement for the rest of the wet ride to the rubber shop. It was only when I was about half a mile from the garage that the back stepped out a little too much for my comfort that I decided I'd be wise to behave myself for the remainder of the journey. Although upon arrival inside the garage my rear tyre did have a lovely smell to it, unlike the one emanating from down my pants.

At £220 for a set of 020's fitted I thought it was a fair price. The friendly bunch of staff carry a good stock of tyres so are likely to have what you want, but it's worth phoning up first on 0121 357 3998 to make sure.

Burning Indian Rubber

(Written by Gaz and Cara)

Due to the severe lack of bikes this year we thought we'd finally get round to blogging our biking escapades in India. So here goes...

Last November we went to India for three weeks and while we were there hired an Enfield. It cost around £7 for one day and very conveniently was ready and waiting outside our hotel when we got up in the morning.

Our driver gives us a few tips on starting the bike.

Five minutes down the road and we've run out of petrol. It seems our £7 only includes the bike and not enough petrol to get us to the nearest petrol station (about 10 minutes away)!

One good thing about India is there are always plenty of people willing to help.

Out on the open road at last. Either Gareth has lost his nerve and is driving very slowly or the speedo doesn't work on this bike!

Bored with the main road we decide to turn off and take the scenic route. After about 10 minutes the scenic route turns a little less scenic and more like a sand track.

Gareth tries to manouver the bike out of the sand without falling over.

Back at the hotel. This is the first motorbike I have riden and I was having a lovely time until I was driven off the road by some angry men in a lorry...apparently women don't ride motorbikes...

Weapons Of Mad Delinquents

(Written by Neil)

I recently suggested to all janglers who were coherent enough to comprehend the conversation that if they sent me their old photos I would attempt to piece together a brief history of how we became the fine upstanding members of the motorcycling community that appear before you now. (Okay stop laughing and get up off the floor).

What lies ahead is a journey not on any tarmac surface but through the annals of our own archives (picture quality courtesy of Kodachrome and dusty attics). A veritable montage of rust buckets, bone shakers and death traps, but each one carving indelible memories of camping trips, breakdowns, fall downs, gravel rash, close shaves and ultimately smiles and high miles.

Don't worry Lone Ranger (Loz), this article is not pointed solely at your endeavours to cross breed a trike with the rear end of a stationary vehicle, however, who could ever forget the poor guys eyes as the twin Cibies (carbs) reared up in his rear view mirror. Hi ho silver...... awaaaay :)


Triumph T110, Yamaha RD200 and the front end of what was soon to become the above mentioned trike. (That's what happens when you go away for a weekend, leaving the kids at home with an angle grinder and an over active imagination. They render this otherwise perfectly functional motorcycle into a Tripodosaurus).


The Tripodosaurus!


Neil and Loz heading off to Snowdon. (Muggings gets to be the luggage rack).




"High speed" thrills at Donnington Moped Mayhem. We lost but hold the record for best wheelie from a Chicken Chaser!


Suzuki VX800. Toured Europe, did standing quarter mile at the Isle of Man, hit the deck down car crash lane but always a solid work horse. Owned in different guises by three of the janglers. Carries a Jangle Jangle five star rating.



Loz showing a natural flair for trials. Yamaha TY250 and 175




The one that got away. This beastie had real potential but was shelved before British Aerospace would endorse it. Probably now in a hanger alongside the TSR 2.


Honda CX500 and VX800 (Both still in circulation).


Honda VFR 400 once owned by Mike. Holds the unofficial record for fasted time from Burntwood to Crazy Daze bike bash down in Kent. Upon arrival Mike was greeted with a can of Newcastle Brown ale then promptly chucked it all back up behind a burger stall.


Suzuki Bandit 600. Another one of Mike's. Tried and tested, still missed to this day.

So there you have it, how to go from teenage mutant delinquent to adolescent adult in a few easy steps; the toys get bigger, the tales get wider and the miles keep rolling in. It only begs the question, if evolution continues along its natural path, what will we be riding in five years? Mines a Nimbus 2000, anyone for the Millennium Falcon?

Temporarily Without Bike

You won't believe it but I had a busy week at work last week. It's Richard's fault for clearing off on holiday, and it's Lee's fault for taking time off work with a bad eye. So, instead of office bound duties which primarily consist of reading and writing blogs, I had to spend my days in the factory being more constructive for a change.

The upshot of last week means I'm temporarily without motorbike, well at least I thought I was. Leaving everything to the last minute as I normally do, I came to the realisation that my MOT had expired, my tyres were illegally bald and my road tax was two weeks out of date. Friday morning arrived and I'd got it into my head that I was going to have to SORN my bike until I could get some new rubber and an MOT sorted.

However.....

Upon finding my previous MOT on Friday lunchtime I discovered that although the bike was MOT'd on the 9th September last year it's not actually due to expire until the 26th. This made my day to say the least. I was straight on line to tax it and now all I have to do is get some sexy new rubber one of the days this week and book it in for an MOT for Saturday morning. And then...... the weather's going to turn crap, mark my words.

Now that I'm back in the office this week I shall be sorting out and uploading a post that Neil has very kindly taken trouble to write. I'm sure you're all going to enjoy taking a read of it. I also want to apologise to Neil for not getting it posted on here sooner.

Lastly but by no means least, it's been learnt this weekend that Colin McRae has tragically died in a helicopter accident along with his five year old son Johnny, his son's six year old friend Ben and Colin's friend Graeme Duncan. My heart goes out to their family and friends. Colin was an ambassador to his sport, one of the greatest most entertaining rally drivers there ever was. This isn't the way things are supposed to happen. Life dishes out some real bum deals sometimes.

The Scotch Egg Challenge

The idea of the challenge is to get a whole scotch egg in your mouth and eat it in one go. For anyone who doesn't know, a scotch egg is a hard boiled egg wrapped in sausage meat, coated in breadcrumbs and then deep fat fried. First up is Mozza entering from the fat bastard group in the pissed up catagory.


There goes the entry, get it in there big lad.


He's struggling, not what the bookmakers anticipated.


Someone grab the sick bucket. Failed miserably!

Next up it's Jez confident he can do it.


The entry.


The gag.


The rejection. Failed!

Next up the mighty Pete Miller.


The entry.


The blockage. Paramedics on standby.


Goooo on my son. Coming back against all odds it's a good solid win.

Next up it's Loz entering for the Hobbits.


The entry. The concentration is immense. There's real tension in the air.


It's in but it looks painful! Now is probably not the right time to ask him if he wants kebab and chips!


No problem, downing the scotch egg in record time smashing the two minute barrier.

Next contender is Neil.


It's not looking good. He's struggling to fit it into his mouth.


Oh no, this isn't looking good., pass over a paper bag.


Catastrophic failure!

It's Tom next claiming it would be easy.


The entry, he's looking cool.


Oops, there's a minor glitch, maybe a boiled egg blocking his windpipe.


And he's done it. An almost effortless performance. He went on to ask, next time could he have one laden with Tabasco sauce.


Matthew refusing to rise to the childish competition opted for a far more civilized approach to eating scotch eggs.

I'll leave you with some pictures taken a little later on in the evening.