Burnouts, Old Bikes & Bad Stomachs

Gaz discovered a nail in his tyre which was unrepairable, so the only thing to do was buy another tyre and finish his old one off good and proper with a series of burnouts and rolling burnouts.









That was Friday. Sunday I headed over to the Classic Bike Show at Stafford County Show Ground. The most annoying thing about this was, I never found ANYTHING to buy. Not one single item. Well OK, I did actually end up buying something. It was a piece of diesel marinated cardboard impersonating a cheeseburger at a cost of £3.30!


Forget your Vincents and such like, this Triumph was my favourite bike of the show.


A superb BSA Goldstar.



Back to the burger...... it's poisoned me! Without going into too much detail, ever since yesterday afternoon I've had murky water exiting me with the force of a fire extinguisher. This morning I seem to have swapped from a water based extinguisher to one of foam. Not a good way to start my week. And sorry for sharing that one with you.

Any suitable donations would be greatly appreciated.... ice, cork, more toilet paper.......

Bourton-on-the-Water

Finally Neil has managed to get the Yellow Belly on the road so we celebrated with a trip to Bourton-on-the-Water, riding at what Neil described as a "sustainable pace". Having said that, this description only came to light later on after a couple of beers down the pub.

A "sustainable pace"? Isn't that something you aim to achieve on an all day drinking binge?


Neil's Yellow Belly sporting one of Loz's home made Givi Luggage mounting racks. No bike should be seen without one!

Anyway, after a tedious slog down the M42/M40 we turned off onto the A429 in the direction of Bourton. After a few roundabouts that were, according to Neil, taken at "impressive lean angle" (again, beer induced conclusions) we were greeted with some fine twisty bends that put more than the odd smile on our faces. I remember riding down this road last year and not enjoying it but now I've had another go at it I've changed my mind.


Loz with his new "To the pub" £8 T-shirt


Loz with his daughter Ebony in Morton-in-the-Marsh, and Yellow Belly in the background.


Ebony's first trike.


Some superb old bikes on display outside Bourton Motor Museum


Neil, myself and Ebs



A jangle wouldn't be a jangle without some food along the way so we plumped to eat at the Mad Hatter Tea Shop on the banks of the river.


A fine beef in ale pie with chips, peas and carrots.


Apparently this was supposed to be an omelette. I'm surprised they've never been prosecuted under the Trade Descriptions Act! Not good at all. And if that wasn't bad enough, a bird decided to poop straight onto our table. Had it have landed on the omelette it might have added some flavour!







That sort of wraps up our day. There's not a lot else to say really apart from we managed to avoid the motorway on the way back which was an altogether much pleasanter experience.

Happy Birthday

Let me tell you something. Today our blog is one year old.

I can hardly believe the amount of crap I've written on here over the last twelve months. Don't quote me on this but I think the figures are one hundred and eight posts by me, two by Matt, two by Gaz, one by Loz and one by Neil.

Whilst the writing has been enjoyable it's also been a right pain in the ass at times, but it's all been worth it just for the comments alone.

I'd really like to thank everyone who stops by here and comments. It's you people out there that help make the blog what it is.... you know, on the whole fairly shit and boring. Wait, that doesn't sound good does it. What I was trying to say was the blog would be fairly shit and boring if it wasn't for all those that comment. Redeemed?

I also know by our site stats that there are a lot of people who regularly come back and read what's on here (presumably because they find it of some sort of interest) who never comment. So to you people, a big thanks for coming by.

Here's to the next twelve months of drivel

Tutbury Castle

On Easter Sunday I took a ride out to Tutbury Castle which was once home to the Mercian Kings and afterwards the Earls and Dukes of Lancaster. It's recently featured on the television series Most Haunted. That's largely down to the fact a lot of people think it's haunted. I didn't see any ghosts but I did see a right fit youngish lady dressed up in Viking Attire.

To be honest there isn't really a fat lot left of it to see but they do host quite a lot of event days. On Easter Sunday and Monday they had a Viking re-enactment event on which would have been fairly entertaining had I stuck around long enough to watch it and hadn't been distracted by the fit lady in Viking attire.




The South Wing/Hall/what ever they called it and a hanging man. Don't be alarmed, he's not real.




Hang in there matey


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Winnie

Call me sad but the most thrilling part of the visit was clapping eyes on a right fit youngish lady dressed up in Viking attire (Yeah I know, I've already mentioned the right fit youngish lady dressed in the Viking attire).... But listen, talk about the wrong place at the wrong time, she only went and got her ass right in the middle of my photo (rolls eyes).

Matlock Bath & Arbor Low

Loz, Dean, Gaz, Cara and myself all met up at the Bowling Green in Lichfield yesterday morning for a ride out to the Peak District. After a five minute natter and another five minutes fitting the Pilligrip to Gaz's bike we were off.


The Bowling Green - More of a pub than a bowling green



Rig from Rigsville asked us if we could test a product called Pilligrip. It's basically a piece of rubber matting which is designed to fit snuggly over the pillion seat of any motorcycle, helping prevent the poor pillion's ass from skidding all over the place. Cara's first impressions after a hundred or so miles were positive.

Our first stop off was Matlock Bath, a favourite meeting point for bikers. We conveniently managed to find a parking space right outside a cafe that happened to have an empty table outside. Quite a feat on Bank Holiday Easter Monday!




"A nice cup of tea and a piece of cake Aunt Sally". Anyone remember Worzel Gummidge?


Matlock Bath main street


Sadly I'm afraid it IS a strawberry milkshake!

From Matlock, much to Loz's disgust, we headed off in search of a bit of culture and ended up at Arbor Low, a Stone Age henge built about 4500 years ago. After studying the undulating landscape of this fine piece of English heritage, Loz concluded it would make a fine motorcycle trials playground! As amazing as the henge is, I did secretly agree with him though.











With the culture over and done with we were just in time to enjoy a thoroughly unpleasant journey home in the rain (Moaning from Loz because he spent hours cleaning his bike the day before). Being stupid, I decided in my wisdom to ride in jeans and trainers yesterday, only to find when we arrived at the pub, it looked like I'd pissed myself. "That'll LEARN you." as Gaz so eloquently put it.

What else went wrong? Well my shoe lace came undone and decided to melt itself all over my exhaust GRRRRR, and Dean on occasions forgot what country he was in and decided to veer off onto the wrong side of the road, usually whilst trying to negotiate a bend.

That just about sums up the days events.

For those that are interested, there's an A road between Matlock and the A515 called the A5012 that is awesome on a bike. It's well worth checking out. It's also worth noting that there's a petrol station at the A515 end of it in case you're running low on fuel.

Red Light District

Written by Neil

Well it’s Sunday morning and the clocks have gone forward which can mean only one thing….. Lighter nights, better weather and jangling. It also means I’ve got to put my money where my mouth is and get the infamous Yella Belly (Alias XJR1300) standing on its own two rubbery round things.

Can’t be difficult, I only took it apart to “fettle” (mind you that was eight months ago!). So eyes down and on with juggling four down pipes, the bottom box, a tube of exhaust paste, a selection of spanners and the must have “cuppa tea”, its funny where you can wedge your big toe when you run out of hands. Two hours later and all's looking good, the queen bee is ready to buzz, battery in and a final smirk before hitting the go button……. NOTHING! Flatter than Loz’s finger after a day’s tool setting!!

Okay that’s cool, charger on, kettle singing, Sunday paper in hand , I’ll see you later my stripy friend.

(Tick tock , tick tock……. Times up)

So I’m back, obligatory smirk and hit the button…….. Oh yes boys she’s humming, warm her gently through, listen to those pipes burble, bring it on.

Hang on, what's that RED LIGHT mean???? Doh, switch it off quick it’s the oil pressure. There’s eighteen quid of Castrol’s finest sloppy stuff in there, what’s going on??

I know, what’s through the round window?…… NOWT , its empty. Now I know that’s not true and the floor's not wet so come on Mr Castrol where are you hiding? So I drop the sump plug and out he runs, I check (Again) the pressure relief on the filter, nope that’s happy. OK time for the big guns ….. Enter stage left Mr Haynes with a Cuppa. Bit of reading later and oh yes there’s two pressure relief's in the sump. Now, it's stood eight months minus any sloppy liquid so there’s half a chance me thinks that the little blighters are stuck. OK exhausts off, sump off, got Ya !! ….. Oh no I haven’t, they're fine. Blow through the pipes, check the sump filter, all happier than Michael Barrymore in his swimming pool.

So now what???????

Enter stage Right Mr Haynes. The tea is starting to kick in by now and that hour I lost in bed this morning is a distant memory…. HOW MUCH OIL SHOULD THERE BE???

3000ml without a filter, 3350ml with a filter ….. Yep that’s me I’m OK with that one………… BUT Wait! What’s this sneaky little sub note previously written in early morning invisible ink. Total capacity 4.2litres….. NAAAARGH !

Neil

Ironbridge

Making good use of some more nice weather, I took half a day off work again yesterday and went for a ride to Ironbridge and ate some pork pie.







Without boring you too much with a history lesson, Ironbridge Gorge is a World Heritage Site and is universally recognised for its unique role in the development of the Industrial Revolution that originated in Britain in the early years of the 18th century.

To keep things simple here, Ironbridge Gorge consists of a town called Ironbridge and also has, surprise surprise, an iron bridge. Mind you, it's no ordinary iron bridge. It was the first bridge in the world to be constructed of iron. It was designed by Shrewsbury architect Thomas Pritchard and cast at the coalbrookdale ironworks belonging to Abraham Darby III.

There's a lot of interesting museums in the area but probably the most notable is Blists Hill Victorian Town which is well worth a visit.





The town was quiet yesterday, but at weekends, especially during the summer months it can get packed solid. It's a popular destination for bikers, the meeting point being right at the end of the bridge in the centre of town.

You absolutely cannot go to Ironbridge without eating a pork pie from Eley's, apparently a world famous pork pie at that! They're definitely up there with the best of them.



Changing the subject a bit, a couple of years ago Loz, Gaz, Neil and myself entered the Ironbridge to Bridgnorth Raft Regatta. The annual event is to raise money for charities and it's organised by the Bridgnorth Lions. You can find some good photos here. Most people take a lot of time and trouble building elaborate rafts. Not us. We basically got four empty blue oil drums, cut holes into them, made four seats, bolted everything together with planks of wood and Bob's your uncle.



Needless to say, our contraption came under a fair bit of criticism and piss take. Jealous people? Me thinks so!

The day consisted of a large amount of swimming, an even larger amount of fights with water and flour bombs and an heroic act of piracy from Loz whereby he permanently borrowed some beer from another raft. Oh and I mustn't forget to mention a pit stop at a river side pub for a beer and a burger off the barbecue.

Right, I'll get to the point. Along the way down the river we were overtaking this raft of titanic proportion, except to my knowledge it didn't sink. There was a house on this raft! It had a foredeck where there was a barbecue on the go and a large aft deck with garden furniture! For some reason best known to the designers of the raft, the aft deck also doubled up as the toilet.

As we were half way through our overtaking manoeuvre, this guy on the aft deck who was taking a pee over the stern decided to have a dig at our humble raft.

"You call that a raft?" he pipes up.

Loz, not one for being outdone retaliates with the question...... "You call THAT a penis?"

I've Been for A Ride!

As mentioned in the last post, there was hopefully going to be some photos of a jangle this week. Well there's not. I did however go into work on my bike yesterday. With a lovely, almost summer like day, I couldn't resist taking half a day off to go for a blast. For people who know me, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking half a day, isn't that what you normally do?. Well screw you... up the ass... with a big long piece of wood... rough cut for added splinter effect.

Anyway, a great ride it was too, all the way up to Ashbourne and back along the A515 (A favourite road of mine). With not much traffic about, things were flowing well, like the beer on a Friday night. And just like the Saturday morning after a Friday night session, I nearly shit myself on several occasions.

My bike's become twitchy on bumpy bends. It never used to do it. Either the tyres need some air in them, the tyres need replacing, which to be fair, they do as they have a squareness about them our friend Dean Tackleberry would probably masturbate over, or the poor suspension is struggling to cope with my ever increasing waste line.

Which ever, it's a worry.

The Tossers Guide To Hand Gestures

I'm greeted at the traffic lights by a man with his window down. He's informing me I'm a wanker!

I'm impressed. This guy knows his shit. Ok, maybe not as much shit as Albert Einstein, but shit none the less.

To reinforce what he's telling me, he's also making a hand gesture. It's a BIG hand gesture. It looks like he's wrapping his hand around a can of beer and he's making LONG slow deliberate up and down motions.

Now I really am impressed. He's informing me of the magnitude of my fire power!

I ponder this information for a few seconds. There are discrepancies. I come to the conclusion that maybe he's not as clever as first thought. He's certainly no clairvoyant and he sure as hell doesn't have x-ray vision.

To be honest, the guy doesn't appear to be in a very good mood. I put this down to the fact that he thinks I have a bigger hairy hot dog down my pants than he does.

I bide my time.

I wait for the traffic lights to start changing from red to green.

This is my big chance. This is my chance to kick him when he's down.

With my thumb and forefinger pinched together, I look across and make the very slightest of gestures. Imagine if you will, somebody pretending to stroke a matchstick.

I don't know which shocked him more, the accuracy of my gesture, or the speed at which I fekked off at.

I Blame It On The Useless Mirrors

Here is another little video of Nick's from a good many years ago. It's not likely to be of much excitement or interest to anybody else other than the people that remembered it, or people that are interested in Land Rovers, or people that are interested in old Land Rovers that refuse to steer in a straight line, or people who look upon the Land Rover as the ideal vehicle to give an invalid carriage a run for its money.

Don't get me wrong, it was very good at doing what it was designed to do; go up and down hills, carry man and beast across country, rattle your teeth until they all dropped out, fill your lungs with exhaust fumes, make you deaf, outrun a snail down a drag strip.... In fairness, the design team clearly thought things out carefully.

Let me tell you this, anybody who dares to take that Land Rover where no man has boldly taken it before, i.e. sixty miles per hour (assuming there's a steep enough downhill stretch of road), would be an international hero who'd then go on to become one of the greatest legends of all time.

Anyway I seem to be digressing. The point here is, I remember it very well.... Oh yes.... But I don't have very fond memories of it.

For some reason I can't remember, I borrowed Nick's Landy to go to work in one day. Quite early on I encountered a problem and thought best to notify Nick.

Ring ring, ring ring.

Nick answered the phone in his usual chirpy voice, "Helloooooo."

"Hi Nick, I've had a bit of an accident in your Landy."

Nick in not quite so chirpy voice (actually it was one of those voices that made you feel like a naughty school boy), "Why, what have you gone and done?"

"Well there isn't really much damage to yours mate." (Notice the mate thing? Well you've got to butter people up a bit when you announce you've crashed their car!).

I quickly continue explaining the events.

"It's like this, I woke up this morning, got dressed, then set about going to work. I reversed my car off my driveway and parked it in the road. I then jumped out my car, walked back up the driveway, opened the garage door and reversed the Landy onto the driveway. I then got out, closed the garage door, jumped back in the Landy and reversed it off the driveway."

(Pause for dramatic effect)

"Unfortunately I managed to reverse it straight into my own car!"

All I'm going to say about the incident is, if there's a fight between a Land Rover and a Toyota Celica, I know which one I'd be betting my money on to win!

My neighbour seemed to find it hilarious.

Bastard.