Sunday, 2 August 2009
Old bike mags rule!
Sometimes, it's the little things that change a boring day to an enjoyable one. I had to work today, took the bike and halfway through the urgent (aren't they all) job I looked out the window and the sun was shining. This is quite an unusual event here in the North East so I left work and went for a ride, but be assured I will book the whole day!
A while later I was sitting outside a caff in the pleasant little town of Ballater drinking coffee and eating one of their delicious chocolate cakes watching the world go by and considerably cheered-up.
As I had finally fitted my new luggage (found that M6 x 60 bolt I needed in a bin in the local feed store - 20p, bargain!), I decided to browse the second-hand bookshop next door where I knew there were loads of bargains to be had; I usually can only buy one book at a time and stuff it inside my jacket but now I knew I could buy loads of worthless junk.
Anyway, there tucked away in a corner was a stash of old bike mags, result! I rode home post-haste to read through them and now I'm in heaven. Old bike mags and 'sounds of the seventies' on the local radio station, serendipity or what - colour pictures of an Ariel square four with the Stones singing 'you can't always get what you want'AND a Belgian chocolate brownie I got from the caff, it doesn't get much better.
I particularly like the sound of this film advertised in 'Road Rocket no.2' (I know I don't remember it either) 'My little sister rides a motorbike' by Anne Parisio a black and white homage to the rockers of the fifties - wonder if you can still get a copy? Oh and the letter pages are brilliant "If Road Rocket is meant to be a NEW motorcycle magazine, its PATHETIC. A couple of pictures of Vic Reeves and his mates, some poxy astronaut and a jerk wearing platforms doesn't make it new, it makes it PATHETIC. Give up, you wankers" - straight to the point, eh!
So now I'm torn between a fifties British bike fitted with one of those beautiful nose cones, a modified Harley chop with a semi-naked young lady draped over it, or a drag bike!
REALITY - those flimsy extended footpegs I bought only lasted one ride - I couldn't persuade my old arthritic knees to pivot enough to allow me to brake or change gear - the boss that screws to the footpeg mount forced my big feet outboard enough that I couldn't reach the padals. Oh well, back to the drawing board.