Death of a Little Black Flying Thing........... :o(

I was just sat here in the sunny garden, reading Jeremy Clarkson's book “For Crying Out Loud”, and a Little Black Flying Thing you could hardly see landed on the page. I brushed it off, and quite unintentionally killed it. It died quite horribly………… well, on its own scale, it was quite horrible, but at least it was quick I guess. The poor little blighter left a green smear about 15mm long and 2mm wide on page fifty-one, the only trace remaining that it had ever lived at all.

It got me thinking, partly out of respect, and partly from regret that I had carelessly snuffed the life from it………. I know not whether it was a he or a she, so have regrettably to refer to it as ‘it’.

The Thinking led to consideration of how little most of us leave behind as a trace that we ever were.

(Brace yourself, dear reader, we’re going in,………. As in ‘In Real Deep’)


That Little Black Flying Thing, (Which was black on the outside, and thus as far as the inverse insect world is concerned, not one of a minority group.), at least left a mark on page 51 of my book, which will forever remain as a reminder of its Last Day Flying.

I will, in all probability, remember the moment for at least Quite Some Time, and will hereafter refer to this book as the ‘Memorial Edition’. I’m like that; I remember the detail of life, commonly regarded by most successful people as unimportant. Pity about the Big Stuff, more commonly regarded as important, and which I pay little heed to then, isn’t it?

That nearly leads me down another track of tangled thought, so I’ll get back to the subject that was in mind…………. How little remains of us when we’re gone.

I guess the most long lasting evidence for most of us is perhaps a headstone in a churchyard. It may be something quirky enough, and perhaps with a similarly quirky inscription, to catch the eye of someone wandering through the graves. It may make them stop and wonder of the life that boiled down to those few words, before moving on to continue weaving their own life-tapestry, having soon forgotten what they saw there. Most likely it will be a small, comittee-designed, standard issue, Politically Correct marker in the grounds of a faceless crematorium, individuality being snuffed out by the controlling will of the faceless weenies. It may be a small and oh-so-tastefully-discrete-flat-on-the-ground marker of the life it represents, and also easily grown over until it can never be found again without a shovel.

Family photographs will maybe remain floating about for several generations, although diluted amongst it’s numbers of inherited keepers, and long since lost in dark boxes and drawers. The stories that accompanied them will soon be forgotten, as will the names and position in the family hierarchy. Inherited possessions too will wither as they are handed down or lost completely through loss, breakage, sale, .......... or worse, .......... simply thrown away.

Modern photographs, now taken digitally and mostly never printed, will last not even half a generation now, and those that do will be lost amongst thousands of others on hard drives, or discs, never to be looked at again. The boxes of photographs that many have, are already a passing tradition thanks to this digital medium which, quite ironically, has made recording the past easier and cheaper than it ever has been in history. Maybe that proves a theory, that the easier and cheaper anything is, the less permanent or valued it becomes?

Those lucky enough to have had the gist of their lives recorded in the written word will have their stories preserved perhaps for a thousand years or more, but they are the very fewest of us all.

Both my Father and Stepfather, both gone some eighteen years ago now, have little left already to mark their lives. My Stepfather’s laid-flat, tiny grave marker has long since grown over, much to my shame. Many living close by him, and one in particular, swore to keep his grave tended, and I for one never expected it to have gown over so quickly, nor how easily I could forget it’s exact position. I shouldn’t have trusted the word of those who promised they would keep it tended I guess.

I keep some mementos of both of them close by and always visible in the house in areas I sit or stand, and from time to time handle, use, or find one of the few of their tools I inherited. They were the diminishing generation of men who made, repaired and modified things in their garages and workshops, and the wear on those tools linger like an echo of their toil, skill and efforts. I think of them often, but when I’m gone so too will they be gone. No one else knows the stories they told me, my Father in particular, and I have been meaning to write their stories down. Those stories to at least hand on to my only niece in the hope it will mean something to her, but knowing it probably won’t.

We all, even the most mundane of us, have led complicated and different lives, and it all goes out like a light on our passing, just like my Little Black Flying Thing this morning. I guess, the scale of things being taken into account, its green smear of life’s juices spilt, and these thoughts, written and then sent out there in this blog, is the equivalent of a funeral with full military honours to accompany it.

Has anyone ever squidged something so small and most common, and yet thought of it so deeply? Probably very few in the history of the written word. :o)

So, dear Little Black Flying Thing, I salute you, your tiny life, and all it meant to those around you (sniff), and will remember that you remain forever, a green smear on page fifty-one……………

K.x :o)

Rambling on the beach.............. :o)

Well, I’m on the beach here at Axmouth………. Rattled down on the Harley, after starting to get some work done in the workshop, as The Harley’s due it’s Mot on Thursday and the damn belt-drive is scuffing the tyre somehow. I stood there looking at her, canted over on her stand in the sun, and she looked back at me and said, “Fuck it, run me down to the coast man!”

So here we are…….. she’s up there in the sun basking in the attentions of those who pass her, and I’m down here listening to the surf tirelessly rolling the pebbles around in it’s foamy caress. Poetic, that doncha think? I’ve been reading James May, the Top gear columnist, and he’s very good……. Right up my street………. Unafraid to fly in the face of convention and the barricades of bullshit everyone hides behind these days. A very funny man.

The beach is pretty well deserted, apart from a few people so far away it’s hard to make them out. The nearest to me is over a hundred yards away, and is a bit distracting in that she’s divested herself of all clothing except what may well be a tiny pair of knickers. Can’t quite see to be certain, given that I only have the luxury of a sidelong glance, but she sure whipped the top off quick enough.

I’m bleddy sure they do it on purpose y’know. Never mind, I’m pretending to nonchalantly be uninterested, as she’s pretending that I’m not too. It’s all a bleddy game isn’t it? Every single woman who gets her kit off within eye-shot of some poor bloke, knows full well she’s distracting the poor bastard from his reading matter. I don’t care who you are, or how much you say you’re not bothered….. you bleddy notice at the very least. you just tell yourself not to look, but it's a helluva job not to let the eyeballs swivel in their direction. :o)

Where was I……….. being poetic about the foamy surf, rolling ceaselessly up on the shore, turning the pebbles like a giant polishing machine, ...........like she just turned a moment ago, making sure she was looking over here as she did so, to make sure I was making sure I wasn't looking. Jees, what games we all play. Sweetheart, is it really necessary to fling you’re lovely long hair about like that, let alone your Items Of Distraction?

Bollocks, I’m not going to give her the satisfaction……… besides another one has beached herself to Starboard, and is at least keeping her kit on in consideration for the poor old bastard sat over here. :o)

Shit, lookout, ..........her friend is manoeuvring down the beach, a big lass, but very pretty, and has just smiled nicely, and so I smiled back. Nice and civilised it is too. Look at us all here……….. all on our own, and who knows what stage of life we’re all on, each with an entwined story, uniquely complicated and unimaginable, but nevertheless we're all separated by convention. Unwritten rules of separation, long since written in stone.

Yup those rules made for the obedience of fools and the guidance of wise men (Douglas Bader, Reach For The Sky), but what courage it takes to break them. A beach, is still a very private place. Only a very few would transgress, and sit nearby especially in such a wide empty space, and rightly so. How many would welcome the company though? Maybe more than you would think, our society being so high in numbers of unattached and single people. We are so wary of people these days too…….. strangers, and especially women wary of single men, weirdoes every one of us.

How did we ever get to be so afraid of each other unless reliably introduced?

I can remember, years ago, sitting on a beach with a girlfriend I had at the time, and a deaf bloke walked up, sat right down beside her on the far side from me, and started chatting to her. He could communicate quite well, and was soon sat down beside her nattering, and signing away. What pissed me off, was the bloody nerve of it. He was definitely blatantly ‘chatting’ her up, and there was I sat on the other side of her not included in the conversation one bit. It was exactly as if I wasn’t there…… he didn’t even say “Hello” to me in any way whatsoever, right from the start. The girlfriend said later that she didn’t like to be rude, especially since he was deaf, and maybe, she thought, lonely. I didn’t say anything either, as I didn’t want to seem petty. I was certain he was well used to using this as a chat-up technique, but, with hindsight kinda had to admire his balls……… (as in ‘courage’, you understand!) Courageous enough in approaching a single girl alone on a beach, but when her boyfriend is sat there right next to her, well, it was going to get him a slap one day.

Anyway, that’s kinda besides the point……….. it being, why not try to engage someone in conversation? What’s there to lose? If they don’t like it, it’s going to be obvious enough, and easy to just politely disengage and walk away. These constraints, especially seemingly the British rules of engagement, are soooooo powerful though. I would love to have someone’s company here, preferably female it has to be admitted, although not for the obvious reasons you, dear reader might think, but pretty well nothing would get me to approach anyone here to start a conversation. Not unless it was very easy to do.

Weird, huh?

Yup, pretty damn weird.

Hey, lookup, some chick approaches now with a dog in tow……….. nope……. I gave her a smile, said “He looks keen to get in the water”……… she smiled very slightly as if to say "You've got a bloody nerve", and looked the other way. Never said a word in reply. Shit, man, I must be a real bleddy ugly guy. I might as well have asked her to lose the dog, and come over and sit on my nob for the way she reacted. I guess "He looks keen to get in the water" sounds like "Fancy a shag".

Maybe it amounts to the same thing for a woman. I suppose you'd have to be one to experience being hit on all the time, and when you are, you hear words differently. Conversations take on a different slant. I think I could hack it though. I'd far rather have to turn opportunities down than have none at all.

Would ANY man ignore a woman who politely spoke to him? I think not, and if he did, what a rude pig he would be. Women sure do get licence to be as rude as they like. I guess it goes with an abundance of choice and opportunity. It’s as if speaking will get you raped. Maybe that’s what it’s all about. She knows getting into a conversation may well result in something she doesn’t want, so it’s simpler to just ignore a guy's approach. I guess I can see the logic, but some of us are decent enough not to push their luck beyond acceptability.

It really is all to do with looks, and don’t bother telling me otherwise……… boy am I ever sick of hearing that it’s all about personality. Take my buddy Mad Eddie in the States…………. Some three or four years younger than me, but waaaaay better looking……… man, he has women crawling all over him. Waitresses giving him their number, smiles galore on the street, the works. A few years ago, I had far less trouble engaging women in light conversation, getting eye contact, smiles etc. I’m not saying it was an everyday thing, but it certainly wasn’t difficult. Now…………. It’s got so bad that one single acknowledgement of the briefest duration is notable. Since I turned fifty it’s all gone tits up.

Not about looks?

I think it is all about looks.

Tha's not as bitter and twisted as it sounds......... I do undersatnd how it works, i just wish others would admit that looks do count hugely that's all. :o)

Hey ho, (half an hour later now) just had a nice chat to another woman walking her dog……… I’d walked down to the water’s edge here, and was kicking stones into the water as she came along……….. she had a watch, and I was wondering at what time it was, so I asked. Said her dog was nice, and had he been in the water yet, and we had a nice long chat. Nice. And guess what, I didn’t rape her, soon learned that she had a husband, partner, whatever, and that was fine. We chatted, and as soon as she seemed to want to move on, I went with it, and off she went. Just a nice chat. Proof, if you need it, that we’re not all monsters.

Yes, it would’ve been great had she been free and available, suddenly thought I was Mr Wonderful, and begged me to introduce The Ferret there and then, but she wasn’t, she didn’t, and I was just fine with it. Why wouldn’t I be. :o)

Maybe some women just don’t give you the time of day because it’s like doing you a favour, and I have to say, it's usually the good looking ones. Well, there’s a saying, that the mark of a man (woman) is how he (she) treats someone who is of no obvious use to them. By that standard, the woman I’ve just spoken to is a far nicer woman that the snooty one with her nose in the air. She may not have been as pretty, but sure was far nicer.

Mind you, I guess, too, it’s all a big skill, talking to strangers……….. so shyness could be the deal with Miss Snooty, so I guess I’ll cut her some slack. no, soddit, she didn't look very shy to me. you can kinda tell. :o)

Maybe I should make it a new hobby kinda thing, starting conversations with strangers, and not just women because, God knows, I could do with some more friends. (Sigh)

Never mind, its’ the way it goes I guess, and anyway, it’s a glorious day here.

It’s about 5.40pm now…….. wind’s getting a bit chilly, AND Topless over there has slipped her bra back on, so things must be getting real nippy.

When I win the lottery, I’m gonna do this every damn day! Cruise around, and sit on beaches. Well, not just on beaches, but I guess you know what I mean.

Ok, that’s it……… another ramble about bugger-all, and all raw straight-from-within thoughts too, so don’t judge me too harshly dear reader. Y’all think weird and politically incorrect thoughts too, (oh yes you do!!) I just openly express them, that's all. Bear that in mind when you’re sniffing haughtily at what’s written here in this blog. :o)

Topless is getting dressed, ……………….. and I guess I should be hustling the Harley home too.

Bye for now.............

K. :o)

Petrol Head stuff........... and a rant about bastard weenies (small 'w') :o)

Well, I’ve been neglecting my reader out there, and so I guess there’s no one out There reading this drivel now, which is fine, because this is just a waste gate for the excess boost I run from time to time. I guess that’s why it’s often a rant, negative and seemingly from a Dysfunctional Fuckwit With No Life.

Well, ok maybe there’s some truth in that, but No Life to me is just gazing into space, drinking yourself into oblivion every day, doing drugs until reality doesn’t exist even on a good day, or simply staring at a TV without any signs of life in the windows to the soul. Me, sure, I waste time, but I’m never bored……….. most of what I spend time doing at least involves some cerebral input. :o)

Anyway, I’m making plans as we speak to get outta this winter’s rut, ………and yes, I know it’s been spring for a while now, but you can’t rush these things y’know. Might even get the rut filled in a bit before next winter sinks hard won Summer enthusiasms.

I’ve been spending my money……… bought two MGB engines and gearboxes on Ebay, which had been sat in the grass in a field for five years without a cover of any sort, for a grand total of £11.50. I need to get the Marlin rebuilt, y’see, and one of the mental blocks stopping it kicking off, is the two litre fiat Twin-Cam engine it had fitted, because the damn thing drinks fuel. It’s a gorgeous engine, and the second most tuneable production engine to the Ford Cosworth, because Fiat designed it specifically to be able to modify and uprate for production racing.

When the Marlin was on the road, many moons ago now, I loved driving about in it so much, I’d take it out with any excuse whatsoever, rain or shine, and at around 22mpg, 29mpg driven like an old woman, it was costing a shedload in fuel. It was pretty quick too, having a higher power-to-weight ratio than a Porsche 911, and I’m not to be trusted with that much grunt in a car………. Being a lifelong bikes, I feel soooooo safe in a car. You can’t fall off them y’see?

My thinking is that a MGB unit won’t lead me astray, and I should be able to get 40mpg out of it in a light kit-car.

Anyway…….. bought the two MGB engine/gearbox lumps, (Each hitherto to be known as the ‘Field Units’) and only expecting to get some spares from them, and possibly only from the gearboxes too. Five years out in the rain is a bleddy long time, even for simple lumps of iron like MGB engines!

I took the heads off them both when I got them back here, and got one turning in the end, and found the bores were hardly worn, although one was quite rusted up, and so it would need to be rebored anyway. I think it is actually pretty rebuildable with some elbow grease and effort, But it’s prolly better to stick to Plan A and get another unit from a scrapped car, and one that has been stored in the dry.

I was hoping they’d be overdrive ‘boxes on the Field Units, but no luck…….. they’re not. I was going to strip the crank and heavy stuff out of one of the engine/gearbox lumps and use it for a template to build the car around, and then look for a good engine and overdrive ’box at my leisure. Probably one out of a scrapped MGB complete with all the ancillaries (Carbs, manifolds, alternator, starter motor, ignition cables etc etc.).

Lo and behold, someone at work knows a MGB nut who had such a unit, but for a whole lot more than I was going to spend. It’s supposed to be a very, VERY good unit, and has been reconditioned as the bloke with the car was going to do it up, but gave up after too much time had passed without getting the body finished. He wants a LOT more than I was hoping to spend, BUT if it’s as good as he says, and I have no reason to doubt it, then I guess it’ll be worth it. By the time I end up rebuilding a

better second-hand engine that either of the ‘field’ units, and maybe having to source a lot of the ancillaries, I could spend even more.

The £400 MGB unit in the donor car

Boring ramble tonight eh?

Well, I guess that’s what you get from a Petrol-Head. What are we all going to do when the weenies (small ‘w’) finally get their way and outlaw all that we love? As it is you can go to prison now just for a high speed. I doesn’t matter that it’s on an empty road………. Locked up with the scum and vermin. The police can drive like lunatics……… and yes, I’ve seen some very bad driving from that lot too over the years, and it’s worse now than it used to be, believe it or not. The craziest overtaking I ever saw on a bike was a copper on a bike. I couldn’t believe what I saw at the time. He was relying on the fact that oncoming traffic would commit suicide rather than hit a copper. Before anyone gets fired up, yes MOST are top notch……… but not all I’m afraid. Like everything, there are exceptions. I’ve seen some pretty stupid stuff by ambulances, and especially fire trucks, considering the weight they must be fully laden.

These weenie bastards in charge of everything cannot understand how we like to play around with all this old stuff, bikes or cars, and I’ve heard that the day will come when you’ll be forced to scrap anything over a certain age. They’ve pretty well stopped us crawling over scrapyards in search of that elusive part, and I think I’m right that Brussels would like to scrap the whole scrap yard industry. You need a part………. Buy new. If you can’t get new, then you’re forced to scrap it. We should be making things to be repairable, and these days with computers to design it in, it would be real easy to do……… the reason ‘we’ don’t, is to keep selling us more crap. Mechanics are just fitters these days………… no one fixes anything any more……. Rip the whole thing off, and bolt on a new bit. Bend a few valves on a cylinder head, and you’ll be charged for a complete new head. It’s gone way beyond fucking crazy.

All the politicians feathering their own nests. Fucking control freaks every single one, from jumped up little local councillors to those slimy weenie bastards crawling around Parliament. That fat bastard Prescott for one. I particularly object to that two-faced bully-boy. Face like a Bulldog licking piss off a thistle doesn’t help a whole lot either.

(There, that’s better.) :o)

Still, when has it ever been different.

Mustn’t grumble.

It’s not the British way is it.

I’m wittering again, so I’ll quit. :o)

Y’all take care out there, ………..and remember; never miss an opportunity to fuck up a weenie’s day if you possibly can. .......... It’s always worth the effort

They fuck enough of yours days up.
K. :o)

Life, losing it........and on getting it back.

Just a few lines to at least add something to this blog. Completely blank mind, as per usual, but sometimes if I just start writing, something will happen across the synapses. Trouble is, not much has been happening to me lately, as per the usual, so that doesn’t help a whole lot. I’m someone who really needs to Get A Life, although I have to say it’s harder to do than most people seem to think. The trouble with a Life is that, once you’ve lost it, finding it again, or getting a new one isn't so easy, because they seem to be in damn short supply.

Like everything in life, Reality doesn’t hit until it hits you. Most bad things happen to someone else, and if you're anything like me, when they happen to you, you're always kinda surprised and so, like I said; ....Reality doesn’t hit until it hits you

If you've actually got a Life……… hey, what’s the problem, man?

If you haven’t got a life, you’ll soon be able to tell the asshole/smug bastard/sonofabitch/lucky blighter with a Life, what the problem is! ............. Once you get to be able to figure it out, that is.

Funny thing, life. Maybe it’s the Universal Law applying, that says it takes a lot or energy, power, whatever you want to call it, to move something when it’s stopped, and maybe that ‘law’ applies even to something as unambiguous as ‘Life’.

Yup, anything which is stopped takes far more of that precious energy to get it rolling again, than it takes to keep it rolling once it’s moving. What's more, you’d better have some momentum on board to allow the energy to overcome the bumps, slopes and hills, or you’ll grind to a halt when you hit them, which will need more of that energy, and so on and so on.

Pretty much most of my adult life, once I’d finally learnt some of life’s basic lessons as a late teenager/ early twenties, I’ve always kept a mind to that momentum and had some in reserve to cope with the hills. You have plenty of that energy to overcome the obstacles anyway when you’re young, unless you hit too many cliffs and sheer mountain faces.

I’d always take care of the smallish ho-de-hum daily stuff that can cause problems, or big trouble if enough stacks up on top of the other. Taking care of the money, keys, credit/charge cards, maintenance of my bikes and cars, paying the bills on time, keeping out of debt no matter what I had to go without, maintaining good(ish) health and fitness, keeping in work despite hating what I did most of the time; ………. y’know, standing on my own two feet, and doing all the stuff most people do to avoid their Life grinding to a halt. Or worse…….. breaking down, or crashing into bits.

If you keep on top of it all, it’s not so bad, or so hard to do, BUT if something knocks you off your perch, and if you don’t have the momentum or backup to lever yourself back up to speed, THEN it all becomes a whole new can of worms.

I hit depression as a result of pressures of work………. mostly the result of weenies (small 'w'), Bullshit and Political Correctness, and all the ammunition it gives people with no experience, talent or ability to step all over those who do have these things. With hindsight I realise I’d suffered from depression on and off since late childhood, but it didn’t last long; usually a day or so at the most and not especially debilitating even then. When it did hit me for a good solid length of time, grinding me down no matter how hard I tried to keep going until I finally just couldn’t crawl into work one day, it was a surprise. It wasn’t as bad as it can get by any means, but bad enough that I lost the energy to keep this life moving as smoothly(ish) as it was.

When I was off sick with it, and doped up on those fucking pills that seemed to help only by way of doping me up, then it was all I could do was keep Life going at a slowest crawl. I was on my own with it, and so only the very barest essentials were maintained. Sometimes I wouldn’t even wash for days on end, let alone bath or shower, and as for everything else, .........well forget it.

Although much better now, and back to work now for some three years part time, I have lost all that Vim I once had. Everything’s too much damn trouble home here. I'm doing ok, but only just in the eyes of many 'normal' people. I don't eat well, hardly ever clean the place, although that means as in dusting and hoovering. Nothing's rotting in a corner, or going mouldy in the kitchen. I go to work, and work hard there, but I come home and just grind to a halt as soon as I walk though the door. Like I said........ it's better than it was, and even then not as bad as it CAN get ........... I'm not by any means just sat here looking into space and crying into my beer (I don't drink anyway), …….. I read a lot, and spend time on the computer and Internet, not games and things, but as regards writing the blogs and reading about all the things I’m interested in.

Living alone with no Chick doesn’t help one bit, because if I’m prepared to put up with whatever needs to be done, eat bugger-all food, (as in a good diet), housework, etc etc, then I don’t have to do it. There’s only me here………. although there was Lomax, my kitten, here too, but he disappeared a month ago at seven months old, and I sure do miss the little chap. He was great company, and we were glued to the hip, me and him.

So, with not bothering with this, and not bothering with that, and having few friends who want to do much that involves me, slowly Life erodes and deteriorates until it’s as stripped-down a life as you can have and still resemble someone ‘normal’ with a life.

Don’t misunderstand me here……….. It could be far worse, but it could also be a fuck’s sake better too. ........ it's just bad enough that skies are never as blue, the rain and the cold feels that bit worse, and There is just never enough energy and inspiration to fire you up for much at all.
And, yes, thanks all you smug bastards out there,........... but I do realise it’s my fault, and that only I can get it all going again……… (and I WILL …..soon(ish)),.......... so bugger off back to your Ikea kitchen and your perfect life and do us all a favour.

(Hey! Don't get so pissed......... I was just (kinda) joking around, ok?) :o)

All it would take is the impetus, energy inspiration and initiative to make about 500% more effort, and I’d be back up there bouncing along with the best of them. I can’t explain it, but the nearest I can get to explaining it is by saying that it’s like an invisible wall you just can’t get over, under, around or through, and you just can’t see why not either.

Bit like a housefly on a hot day, hammering against a glass window and trying to get out. I often watch them and feel sorry for the little blighters. .............. (That'd be just before I kill them spectacularly dead with a Ikea magazine then!)

(Did you see what I did there, eh???) :o)

Still, what keeps me going, and moving towards cracking it, is the fact that you never know what’s around the corner, …….. as my dear old Daddy used to say.

That little hedgehog didn’t know someone was going to find him, did he? ………he’s one very lucky hedgehog, because she’s going to be the backup that gets him back up to speed again. I sure hope so anyway.

OK, that’s gotta be it, or I’ll be here all day……… I finally got the Muse, and got going, y’see?

If you’ve got a life, and especially if it’s a Good One, (Complete with that Ikea kitchen and the perfect kids) then take real good care of it.

The worst thing you can do is think it can never happen to you…………. falling off your Last Twig, that is. One minute you're surrounded by thick leafy branches, and the next all you can hear is that last twig breaking.................. and the echo of a sudden yell on the long way down.

If you're real lucky, the most precious thing you have is your Woman or your Man……….. Take THAT for granted at your peril.

I know……….. because I once did.

Bye, bye y'all

K.xxx :o)

A meal and then clubbing with My Girls, a few inspirational quotes, and some Rube Goldberg gadgets. :o)

Went out for a meal last night with a load of staff ('My Girls') I used to work with last year, and then to a big pub, which is pretty much a night club in all but name……. the same one I went to a couple of weeks ago or so, with the bunch of staff I work with now.

It was a great night out, and we had a great laugh. They are a good bunch, and the humour is terrific when we are all together. I was in ‘Entertain’ mode, and the restaurant owner said they were all welcome back, excepting myself. He was smiling though.

(Thankyou God for a great night out.)

I got back home, and it’s silence had the usual ‘flattening’ effect. Another rare night out in the company of people with full lives, and another return alone to a quiet house. Jeees, how many times have I come back to a quiet house? Still, at least I don’t have to put up with someone else’s shit I guess. Some would gladly swap places with me in a heartbeat, eh? :o)

(Thankyou God I don’t have to put up with someone else’s shit!) :o)

Had a bad night………. bad dreams which kept me wakening up through the night. Stood outside for a while pondering on it all, and calling for Lomax, as I do every time I happen to get up at night. Made a cuppa, had a read, and back to sleep at four-ish. Slept on and off then until nine.

Exciting life, innit? :oI

(Thankyou God for waking to another day)

This blog isn’t kicking off today……… no inspiration.

Give up for today, eh? Sometimes you’ve just got to let it go.

Instead,……….. here’s some quotes I found whilst browsing around the ‘net this morning. I just might inspire someone else today. :o)

"I never knew I was going to get to the result until I got there." -- Pablo Pardo

"The perfect state of creative bliss is having power (you are 50) and knowing nothing (you are 9). This assures an interesting and successful outcome."
-- Tibor Kalman

The good news is that you can become more innovative just by taking some action, however small, today. My favorite book on this subject is The Knowing-Doing Gap. In one section of the book, 49ers coach Steve Mariucci explains how he stamps out inaction by not sporting a watch:
"Always know what time it is. It is always NOW. And NOW is when you should do it."

"The best measure of a blog is not how many people it reaches, it’s how much it changes what you do. Changes your posture, your writing, your transparency, your humility. What blogging has done for me is made me think. I get to think about how the outside world will understand something I’m trying to do, for example."- Seth Godin

Exhilaration is the Breeze
That lifts us from the Ground
And leaves us in another place
Whose statement is not found
-Emily Dickinson

................ And here's some U-Tube links:-

This wooden marble 'adding machine' would be fun to make........... maybe a lot bigger with more adding slots to calculate a far bigger number.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDshWmhF4A&feature=channel

Here's a link to a music machine........... whether you think it sounds good or not is immaterial really.............. just think of the work to put it together, eh????
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_Ajg1G3vik

That got me looking at Automata........... something that's always fascinated me, and which I'd love to get around to making someday. I'd love to make something that is complicated, and goes all around the woods to do bugger-all in the end.

I love the setups where, like a row of falling dominoes, a whole series of events results in something trivial happening at the end. There's a name for these chain- reaction mechanisms but it escapes me right now.............

Ah, yes............ Rube Goldberg Mechanisms.

There's several on U-Tube........... Honda did one, which was an advert called "Cog", and was quite brilliant in itself, using nothing but Honda car parts!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYabfifhEPE

The best one though is absolutely fantastic, called 'The way Things Go'. It used many more spectacular chain reactions, fire and fireworks being amongst them, and although it's a little more amateurish and less 'slick' than the Honda one, it's actually far better, at over a hundred feet long, and lasting for 30 minutes in the full version

Here's a U-Tube link to a shorter version...........
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U82eWptFxSs

There's bloke called Theo Jansen who designs and builds the fantastic Strandbeests:-

"Since 1990 I have been occupied creating new forms of life.
Not pollen or seeds but plastic yellow tubes are used as the basic material of this new nature. I make skeletons that are able to walk on the wind, so they don’t have to eat.
Over time, these skeletons have become increasingly better at surviving the elements such as storms and water and eventually I want to put these animals out in herds on the beaches, so they will live their own lives."

have a look at his website........... fascinating, it really is. No electronics whatsoever, which means absolutely no computers of any size at all.

here's a link to them working.........
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_eY22R0TWE&NR=1

........... and here's a U-Tube link to a lecture of his..........

http://www.strandbeest.com/

There's a BMW advert on the end, and a bit at the beginning, but ignore that. I guess he needs sponsorship, and I won't knock this absolutely genius guy for that! :o)

Ok, y’all have a good day out there,…. well, what’s left of it anyway .............. it's pretty much over here, as it's just gone 5.30pm.

Another day without Lomax bites the dust. I sure hope he's ok, wherever he is. :o(

K.

Back-Patch Biker Club party, and Other Thoughts that get sparked off............. as they do. :o)

Not a lot been happening. Had a couple of good days at work, despite them being very busy. Good-humoured, and hard working staff makes all the difference in this job, same as in most I would think, and I feel very sorry for those who have to do without it around them as they work. Most times it’s the only thing that makes it bearable.

No-Problem-Pete dragged me off on our bikes to a Back-Patch Club party at their clubhouse a few miles away on Saturday night. It was real good, largely because, as I was talking about the other day here, these are the Real Thing, and it showed in the genuinely friendly, and unpretentious atmosphere. Many who are outside of the biking world would be amazed at how unintimidating it was too.

Motorcycling in this country is traditionally a dirty word, for many reasons, not the least of which it being the traditional interest (at one time!) of the young, and the lower classes, and traditionally perceived as being so 'dangerous' as well. I'ts more acceptable now our wealthier middle class forty-something’s are embracing it as a lifestyle accessory, although it certainly still retains that second-class citizen feel . If you ever want to feel your life is worth nothing more than dried spit on the pavement, look into the eyes of a motorist as they access your worth, and risk to themselves, just before they look away and pull right out in front of you. It happens often; pretty much daily, if you ride a lot.

It’s more often not a case of “I didn’t see you mate” than a case, of “I did, but I couldn’t care less if you live or die” You don’t believe me? Let me take you for a spin and open your eyes a bit.

In fact we as a group cause very little of the perceived trouble to any community. There were some troubles back in the sixties and early seventies, but that was a result of having those upstart weirdo mods, and skinheads about the place, who insisted on using poxy little scooters to display their ‘masculinity’. I mean, who, if they were of any genetically sound ancestry worthy of preservation, would ever use a scooter, an excellent vehicle to shop and commute locally on, as something with which to attract the Chicks? I ask you, I mean, c’mon?

Anyway, I digress……… we’re all friends now, so they tell me. :o)

No, get any amount of us together and you won’t find any trouble……… unlike some other more socially acceptable pastimes, like football f’rinstance. Ask yourself………. If biking events cost a fraction of what football costs to police, and has such a history of violence at their venues, would it not be banned pretty quickly? I rather think so!

Y’all may not be aware of this, but in 2008 there were several traditional biking rallies and activities effectively banned by some pretty sly police and ‘establishment’ goings-on. This was despite there having never been any trouble in years gone by.

It's evidence of the creeping cancer in our society of the weenies (small ‘w’) at work. They are, cold wet slimy drip, by cold wet slimy drip, destroying out country, and they are sneakily doing it by effectvely trying to outlaw the minority interests first. By the time the majority take notice it will be too late. It actually already is

If you want evidence that we bikers, as a group, cause little trouble to the society we live in, just go to the Isle of Man during TT race week (Fortnight if you include Practice Week, and you should really). There, something like 35,000 bikers land on this tiny little island for a week of pure speed, and love of two wheeled (And a few three wheeled) machinery. Ask any of the police over there just how much trouble they have to deal with, and you’ll find they will say none at all. Any night that week there are just a relatively few coppers patrolling Douglas (The capital of the I.O.M.), despite the streets and pubs absolutely CRAMMED with thousands of bikers, and the main drag three-deep with thousands of bikes parked up in rows as far as you can see. I really is quite a sight.

I was talking to a copper over there one year, and he said that the reason bikers were no trouble is because we are what we are from our love of the bikes. We don’t need to kick somebody’s head in to get our kicks (Did you see what I did there?), because we get those kicks from the bikes. That’s right on the button.

Yup, and so take it from me, the I.O.M., during TT week anyway, would be the safest place you could wander alone at night. Ask any I.O.M resident too……….. they absolutely love us. The ones who don’t are the few super-rich who don’t like their little tax-haven boat rocked, but they aren’t the indigenous people, not by a long chalk. However, their influence is slowly (cold wet slimy drip, by cold wet slimy drip) diluting the event, and I fear for it’s future once my generation has slipped it’s mooring from this mortal coil.

Anyway……. yup, it was a great party, and the bikes outside were a good mix of styles and modifications. It was good to be amongst a group where not one was a bullshitter. These boys were all time served troops. :o)

As an aside……….. someone told me that the locality used to get swamped every year with a certain travelling fraternity, but after this back-patch club moved in and sorted out their clubhouse, they strangely visited just the once. There was no intimidation, it was only the knowledge that there were a group of hard-core bikers established there, and so this particular group of ‘travelling people’ suddenly chose to make a mess, and plant themselves for free, somewhere else.

Funny that, don’t you think?

Makes me wonder what would happen if other people got together and refused to stand for any shit from those who think they can do as they please. Maybe one day we will all get so pissed-off with being the victims being trampled on, and the scum openly laughing at the majority, that we will get our shit together, but I fear the opportunity is fast diminishing.

We pay the police to do it for us, but they are so roped in by political correctness, bullshit, and self-serving politicians, that they can’t be effective any more. I fear their numbers are also weakened by an infiltration of weenies in their ranks. They’d be the ones fast-tracked for promotion then.

If we don’t watch it, fascism will take a hold……… history should warn us of that. I for one get tempted to vote for the BNP quite often……… not because I’m racist, nor because I want them in power for one second, but because our thieving, skiving, dishonest two-faced weenie politicians need a big wake-up call!

Sooner the better!

Sorry……….. ranting again. :oI

How’d I get to that point?

It’s The Rambling that does it y’know. :o)

Y’all have a good day out there, wherever you are……… and thank God for at least one thing today, and every day. I’m into my sixth (I think?) “Thankyou God” day, and am still hanging in there.

Mind you, I started to ship some water yesterday morning, but managed to bale it dry by the afternoon :o)

Remember what Churchill said………. “Never, EVER, give up!” :o)

Thankyou God, that I haven’t.

K. x :o)

Happier than God................. one day, hopefully :o)

I've been reading “Happier Than God” by Neale Donald Walsh………… it’s kinda a cross between another of his books “Conversations With God”, and “The Secret” by Rhonda Byrne.

It makes a lot of sense, despite being quite fantastic (As in ‘unbelievable’), but no more fantastic than any of the conventional religions. It sure supports what I know is happening to me right now…………. I’m in a deep web of negativity right now, and have been for a while to a greater of lesser degree, and I know it’s self-perpetuating, in that it is drawing in more negativity to feed on. ‘Things’ aren’t working out with pretty much anything at all, and I’m bringing it in on myself, but even knowing that, I seem (Please note……..mustn’t say ‘can’t’) to be unable to break out of it………. at the moment. When my father died back in ’91, I went through a extremely positive phase for something like six months or so, and was absolutely invincible, and I knew, and expected everything to go right, and you know what?

IT DID!!!! It was brilliant!

My Dad had just died, all hell broke loose in as much as my world was turned over…….. my five year relationship with my girlfriend fell apart from the strain of it all, my sister decided I was her enemy, because I then fell in love with her best friend along the way, I’d been busted for speeding by the police on the way down to comfort my Sister in Cornwall the evening I’d heard he had died, and was going to get a definite driving ban when it came to court.

Ok, you’re wondering………Two busts by two separate pursuit cars in different places along the dual carriageway, 120 on a curve, and 140mph up a steep hill, a police pursuit by two fast Rovers for eighteen miles and a road block in Lifton to catch me……. I didn’t know they were pursuing they were so far behind. Four minutes behind me, …I counted. Drive a fast car skilfully, with blue lights clearing the way, as hard as you can for four minutes, ands see how far you travel. That’s a LONG way behind. They were not happy bunnies! To top it all, 140mph was the fasted speed ever dealt with when it eventually came to court in Okehampton. The court was packed when my case came up, and it made the front page of the Western Morning News in two counties, Devon and Cornwall.

The bike, if you’re wondering, was a beautiful, and much loved, silver and red Kawasaki 900R.

The day My Father died was a terrible, terrible day, made all the worse by being busted in such a huge way.

So, y’see……….all sorts of stuff going on which should’ve had the depressive, opposite, effect on me, ………and yet I was flying high as a kite despite it all…….. not immediately, but very soon. Everything was all of a sudden working for me to make things happen, and to help me achieve what I was having to do.

Right down the line………. Everything I did went bang on the button, and it wasn’t as if it was an easy time either……… my sister was incapacitated with grief, everyone was supporting her, and I had to sort out my Father’s affairs completely alone, travelling to and fro from Taunton to Cornwall on all my days off for months. It was as hard as hell to do, and pretty much no one to advise me, let alone help. Clearing his big garage and workshop was a mammoth task alone, both emotionally and physically, but I was largely buoyed up by this strange positivism, and it was something I’ve never forgotten. Never forgotten, but equally I’ve never been able to replicate it again to anything like as much, or for so long a time.

I could move mountains, and I did too. :o)

Was that something to do with my Father ‘helping’ me from the afterlife?

Was it God working in my life?

Was it that I’d somehow tapped into positivity, and was reaping the rewards of a generous and benevolent Universe?

Dunno………. I kinda think the latter, but who knows? Maybe it all three????????

Anyway…….. back to the present.

“Happier Than God”, “Conversations With God”, and “The Secret” all enthuse about the laws of attraction, and a kind of cosmic ordering. What you focus on and what your heart desires, will come about. HTG and CWG teach that God is Life……. He is always with us, because he IS us. “The Secret” is more about cosmic ordering.

You need to read he books really, as I haven’t grasped it completely, nor finished the books, but I can say this………… I’ve had a week off on annual leave this week, and having started HTG this morning, and applied some of it by thanking God all day, on and off, but mostly on, I have had the best day so far. I even thanked god for the leak on the Harley cylinder head, because it will give me a chance to get out into the workshop again in order to repair it, and to feel the joy of having done so when I do. See, HTG says that things that seem to get worse, are a sigh that it’s working, because it lets you feel the upside when that eventually follows. An example he gives……… if you desired to be The Light, and there was no darkness, you wouldn’t know you were The Light, because you would be in the light anyway, so darkness would have to surround you first in order that you be aware that you had become The Light.

Gettit??? :o)))

Ok, but I did say it was ‘fantastic’, didn’t I? Cutting edge science is starting to nibble at fantastic concepts that are so far considered too whacky to even listen to. If you believe in any of the conventional religions, they are no less whacky. People are blowing themselves up. believing that seventy-two virgins are waiting to reward each and every one of them. Whacky as hell, BUT, whatever IS going on Out There is way beyond whacky. There is a concept that the whole universe as we know it is in fact a huge hologram, and nothing is any more real than a dream.

An illustration….. You dream you offer someone a cup of tea, and in the dream you give them one, and at the same time imagine to yourself that they enjoy it. So, in the dream, you actually give them the tea, and in your mind imagine them enjoying it, BUT……… it’s a dream, …………so the cup of tea is as imaginary as you imagining them enjoying it, but in the dream it was ‘real’.

So maybe everything we know is a dream, a fantasy, a hologram, whatever. Science has learned that nothing is in contact with anything else, because if you go small enough to sub-atomic level, there are huge gaps between all the particles making up anything, just as there are huge gaps between the planets………. Nothing touches anything else. Solids aren’t solid at all, they just manifest themselves as solid in our physical experience. If you touch something, you actually don’t tough it…….. not really, because if you could see to a fine enough degree, you would see a gap there. It’s all a matter of scale. We are trying to discover things way beyond our physical capability to prove, but is only the half of it is right, it is pretty fantastic……… all of it.

So, I do believe, and have done for a while now, that what we think, HOW we think, determines out lives completely. The trick is, is to manage your mind to the degree that you can turn things around from a negative perspective to a positive one. For some people it’s easy……….. they do that naturally, and I’ll bet my bottom dollar they are the ‘winners’ in life……… I as much that they are generally ‘happy’.

Me, I’m gonna turn this ship around if it kills me. I’ve been trying for a long time, but………. (No, Eddie says I mustn’t say ‘but’………. not in connection to negativity…….. I must say however)………… HOWEVER, it’s gonna change! :o)

If you’re having a shit time of things………. Read HTG, and CWG, with an open mind, a very open mind, and you don’t have to go to church every Sunday to make it work either if you’re not a religious person. If you are religious, I don’t think it will necessarily clash with what you already believe. I think it will reinforce what you believe.

It’s a win-win, yes? :o))))))

One last thing………… don’t for one second think I’m preaching here, or trying to sound like I have the answers. Couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m just reading some books, and some things are making a bit of sense, and I’m passing it on in the hope it might help someone else, that’s all.

And some things are changing my mood, so that has to be a good thing, and some proof that some techniques do work. Try saying ‘thank-you’ all day to ‘God’ whether you believe ‘he’ exists of not. Give thanks for even the bad stuff…..use your imagination as to how to do that, and see if it doesn’t brighten your day at least a little bit. I laughed to myself when I thought up a way of being thankful for the Harley cylinder-head oil leak.

Beat THAT for a turn around!!!!! :o))))))))))))))

And you know what? I dragged the old girl out, and had a good look at it, and it wasn’t as bad a leak as I thought. It leaks when you park it leaning over on the stand………. The oil ‘pools’ in the rear corner of the head, and drips through the gasket until it levels out. When you’re upright and riding it, it leaks very, very little. It still needs fixing fairly soon, and it’s still a pain to fix by the looks of it, ………….but not quite as bad as I thought.

Was that because I said “Thank-you”???

Who knows. :o)

K.xxx (x’s are for all you gurls out there!) :o)

Foaming at the mouth, and well overdue his medication......... NURSE!!!!!

Took the Harley down to Cornwall and back to see my 85-year-old Aunty Ruth on Tuesday (17th). She is a lovely woman, and it’s always a pleasure to sit and natter with her. Bright as a button, despite having suffered ill health for a good number of years now, and getting frailer every year. She is someone who really listens to you, loves everyone around her, and is always genuinely concerned about us all. I love her to bits, and she’s always my first port of call before seeing my cousin, and good friend John (her son) and his family. I left late at mid-day, and returned home by 7.45pm, without calling in on John, which is a first. Not feeling my brightest by a long way again, and just didn’t fancy hustling the Tractor (Harley) back along the ‘B’ roads late and in the cold. Being pissed-off kinda makes you feel like that.

God is that thing ever slow, and real hard work to push along at anything like a half decent pace. It has a charm, pretty much purely around it’s torquey, old fashioned long stroke engine, and is ideal for a leisurely cruise around the ‘B’ roads at between fifty and seventy, but anything more than that and it’s stressed and flustered. If you want to go a good distance in any hurry whatsoever……. forget it.

Took it for a short spin yesterday, and found it’s leaking oil from the back of the rocker-box………. A drip-drip leak. It looks to be a pain to fix too, if just tightening it down doesn’t work, which I suspect it won’t. Have to take the rocker box, complete with rockers off, and it is made of a three-part sandwich. Looks like a right lash-up of a design, but I’ll reserve judgement until I’ve got the spanners out, and had a good look at it. Actually, it's not that big a deal, ............more to do with me having trouble doing anything these days which involves the least bit of effort.

It’s like new…….. just under 9,000 miles. No excuse for it really, and prolly just because it has a bit of a mild thrashing the day before. There’s a fair bit of detail that is nothing short of cheap ‘n’ nasty on this Sportster, which is inexcusable from the oldest bike manufacturer in the world, and from one who sell their bikes on ‘Hand Built Craftsmanship’.

Hand Built Craftsmanship, my ass!

Now THIS is hand built! .....................Purty aint it? :o))))

....... And only God could've hand built her. (Thankyou God, etc, etc.......)

These things rust like anchors if you show them rain, and I know……… I’ve had two of them. The design is archaic, and the accuracy of manufacture, if the swinging arm is anything to go by, is poor………. When you do up the back wheel spindle, you pinch the swinging arm tube. I wouldn't expect that on a Chinese made moped. The handling is a joke, and the performance, for 1200cc is truly laughable, although I grant you that cruisers aren't meant to be thrown around.......... HOWEVER Harley do market this bike on it's handling and 'sportiness'.

Having no centre stand is always a real pain in the ass, and so the back wheel a pain to get out, which is way more awkward to get out than it ever should be anyway. This isn’t a sports bike, and so there’s no excuse not to fit a centre stand, or make the wheel such a pain to get out. It's pure penny-pinching, and sure wouldn't fill me with confidence that moving up to a Big twin would be a good thing. The clearance between the rear belt drive (Instead of a chain, which is a good idea) is way too small too to make allowance for variations between tyre manufacturers sizing. I fitted a pair of Continentals, and the back tyre is just being scuffed by the drive belt.

So why have I bought another one, having found all this with the last, back in 1990 or so? Well, that’s kinda hard to explain.

It’s a bit to do with trying to slow myself down………. Hoover (My 1200S Suzuki Bandit) is like a real bad gurl, who leads you to do things you really didn’t ought to be doing.

It’s a bit that appeals to the old fashioned greaser in me, who cut his teeth on old-fashioned British bikes, and this is an old fashioned bike.

It’s the bit in me that’s still strangely naive and optimistic, in that I can’t help thinking that maybe this time it’ll be different.

And it’s the bit in me that gets taken in by the Harley Mystique, even though I know full well it’s 75% U.S. Prime, Hand Scooped And Fed, Bullshit. Even now I wonder if a Big Twin would be any better…….. surely it would etc etc…….. :o)

Harleys make two types of basic bike…… the lighter, “smaller” Sportsters, and the bigger Big Twins…….. Sportsters aren’t considered to be ‘real’ Harleys by the ‘elite’. They are, of course, and a better engine in many ways, but it’s all a part of the Harley Bullshit. Sportsters are marked down as kinda ‘loss leaders’ to get you hooked on the Harley Thing, and then you sell your soul to be a ‘Real’ Harley Man and buy a Big Twin, which are extortionate prices……… up to over £20,000 a time. That’s a whole lotta money for something that’s not even really well made, not to a level that the price would lead you to expect.

Still, once Harley have hooked you with the Sporty, you have to sell your soul for a big Twin to really be with the 'in' crowd you now want to emulate. A real neat bit of marketing.

(It’s a Man Thang, hunny!) :o)

Yup, it’s real easy to be dragged into it all,…….. like I said, I’ve been around the block way more times than is ever good for a chap, but even I get drawn into buying another one, after swearing “Never Again!”

Strains of Born To Be Wild kinda echo through the barking exhaust note, as you feed her a big handful of beef outta the corner, and point the tiny Sportster headlight down a long straight.

Booooorn to be wiiiiild……………………………. Get outta my fuckin’ way! (Because, like, I don’t have enough steam to overtake ya, man!) :o)

Now, should there be any good ol’ Harley boys out there sharpening their knives, let me just add a bit more insult to injury to help you get up a head of steam. ( :o)…… for God’s sake lighten up chaps! )

There are two distinct types of Harley rider. There’s the Real Thing, and there’s The Rest. Of The Rest, a whole lot (But not all) are wannabes of the highest order. Most emulate the Real Thing. They have pulled out the fat wallets of the Forty-something’s, and have bought the Real Thing’s genuinely bad-ass reputation……….. largely that of the genuine back-patch bike clubs. (Hells Angels, Reapers, Satan’s slaves, Chopper club etc.) They emulate the back-patch dress code, lifestyle, and look real mean ‘n’ moody, and yes, some do look the part…… big and beefy, but that’s not quite the same thing as hard.

Hard is when you fall, break bones, nearly lose your life, but still climb back on a bike as soon as you can. Sometimes several times, if there's enough of you left working to still be able to ride somehow.

(NABD, (National Association for Bikers with a Disability) is a great organisation to get disbled bikers back on the road, and anyone can join)

Hard is when you work on the bloody things all night outside in the freezing cold, because you had no garage when you started out, and spend your last quid to keep it on the road.

Hard is when you ride in all weathers, day or night, for more years than you can remember.

Hard is going against the flow of the general scheme of things, and keep right on loving mo'sickles way beyond your youth, no matter what anyone says.

Hard is doing the time, and the pain.

Hard is definitely not just getting your wallet out because you fancy the lifestyle and image. I saw a t-shirt slogan the other day, which sums it up nicely, ..........

"Spending twenty-five grand, and riding twenty-five yards, does not make you a Biker"

How true. :o)

No matter what you might think of The Real Thing, these bikers and their ilk are genuinely tough, love bikes, have been around them all their lives, ...........and most importantly, ............can ride them. I can ride better than most (Note:- I didn’t say better than anybody), and I’ve caught and passed very nimble sports bikes on the Harley, on twisty ‘B’ roads where it's skill and not performance that shows up the difference. Believe me, that should be impossible to do on a Harley, ................and yes, they certainly were trying to get away from me.

You can kinda tell. :o)

The wannabes swagger around in similar attire, to the Real Thing, albeit pretty much brand spanking new, and over the top sometimes, and certainly revel in the Bad Boy image. The time served riders amongst them are pretty much obvious, but they seem to be in a relative minority from those I’ve seen. Talking the talk is easy these days, but walking the walk is another thing altogether. Harley Davidson themselves promote the whole lifestyle thing to go with their bikes……… they sell everything from Harley cute ‘n’ dinky little ornaments that wifey will approve of, to…….. hell,……… I dunno……… I’ll bet you can even get Genuine Harley Davidson Soap-On-A-Rope, to save losing it………. y’know, ………..for when you slip in the shower, boys, …………as you do. :o)

Harley delicately market the Hard Man, Hard Riding, Prime U.S. Male Bad Boy image, but at the same time distance themselves from those who really are tough and hard riding. Those who built that image they make millions by selling.

An example………I know a bloke here in Taunton……. Old School Biker……… Hard as bleddy nails, BSA tattooed on his earlobes and who’s been riding since he could walk. I used to see him a lot on the way to work, and used to call in and have a good old natter. Mad as a coot, and rode a road going CBR kneeler. That’s a pure racing sidecar outfit registered for the road…….. you need balls to ride that on the road! About two foot high……. Bit like a three-wheeled skateboard, with a big engine. Anyway, he ran out of fuel near a certain Harley Davidson main dealer, and pushed the kneeler along with his foot, as is the practice with these things, into their forecourt to get a few pints of fuel to get to a garage down the road.

Would they help the guy, a real dirt-under-the-fingernails biker?

Nope, they wouldn’t.

Said they didn’t have any juice.

Bollocks they didn’t.

He was just too rough looking, and they weren’t going to make any money out of him. (Although he wasn’t asking for the fuel for free)

NO dealer, big or small would’ve turned him away like that at one time. See what I mean?

Harley do seminars for industry on marketing, and so they should. What they pull off is nothing short of miraculous, it really is. Even I’ve gotten pulled into the “Things are different on a Harley” thing, and it’s true, things are different…… it’s an old fashioned bike, but that’s no excuse for not making it as good as it should be. As good as you portray it too. That’s dishonest in my book.

Do you want to know what the other neat trick is? You will find it real hard, and I mean really, really hard, to find anyone who rides, and certainly sells them, to tell you one single thing that isn’t good about these bikes. Nothings perfect, but evidently Harleys are (Sir). And when someone like me does point out what's not so good, well, blimey! It's as if I rub shit on the bald head of their fathers. :o) Unbelievable really.

Now, it’s not all bad. A Harley is the only old fashioned bike still made in any real volume, and that certainly is their charm. It's the reason I blow hot and cold over the bleddy thing on almost a daily basis. It's an antedote to the blandness of super-eficient modern bikes, and you prolly wouldn't understand that if you'd never ridden anything else but the modern bikes.

I had two Norton Commandoes back when i was young; a red 750 Fastback and later a 850 Interstate. To this day I've only got to see one, and I'm in an embarrasingy nostalgic state. I was always working on them, because i thrashed them two up all the time, and the only way to keep them reliable was to keep right on top of the maintainance. I know if I had another I'd soon be cussing it, but sometimes you can't help, nor explain what you love.

So I can understand those who swear a harley is the finest of motorcycles, and wouldn't be seen dead on anything else, but don't really understand why they have to be declared faultless. Nothing is........ not even me! :o)

Despite all the rambling on here, I have to say that when I open the garage door the sight of my little burgundy Sportster waiting there, lazily canted over on her stand, always makes me smile. I guess that's a pretty significant thing. The right weather, the right road, and the right Chick on he back, in no hurry, and you can have a real nice day. I've done it, and it's real nice; takes some beating as a pleasurable experiance on a good day too, but there certainly is a lot of bullshit sold with these bikes, and a lot of bullshitters riding them too, ........and if there's one thing I HATE, it's bullshit.

The HOG (Harley Owners Group), for example, is a big social thing, promoted and supported by HD themselves……… and that’s no bad thing………. but it seems to me that they do style themselves heavily on the Outlaw Back-Patch clubs, and a whole lotta swaggering goes on. Ok, I know full well that here are a lot of genuinely time-served bikers in HOG, and anyone who's put the years in has my respect, whatever they ride, BUT there are some real bullshitters in there too.

It's not really that I've got a beef with anyone taking up biking at whatever age......... it's the way some think they're the Dogs Bollocks in ten minutes.......... THAT'S what does it!

The dealerships support HOG, and pump them up no end, and they sure spend their money with them too....... all to look the part, and buy the lifestyle. It's real slick marketing. There are some things in life you should have to earn, and not be able to just buy into, and biking is one of them. It’s that which gets up my nose……… it’s the fake, (and not so fake too) male-ego bullshit that does it for me.

Exactly the same as all the sports bike riders who dress up like G.P. riders, and can’t ride the damn things they buy. Don't they realise they're not fooling those who know their stuff?

I guess it all boils down to me not changing enough to keep pace with the was our society is going as the years go by. Maybe it's me that's got it all wrong?

One thing is for sure-certain though......... quite apart from anything else, it's not getting any easier to survive on the roads. You need to have a well developed sixth sense, be experienced to be able to do exactly the right thing in a split second......... actually, do several things exactly right ,to get out of trouble that will most definitely hit you sooner or later, and repeatedly so too.

You need to learn fast, and to do that you need start this thing young. No question about it.

I hate the way biking has changed. There was a time when you had to be the Real Thing to ride a big bike, and especially to be any age worth the name and still doing it, because few took it up in their (comparatively) old age; those over forty had worked their way up over many years. Being an Old Biker was a kinda badge of office in itself, because you couldn’t get there without putting the time in. A respect went with it. If you were full of shit, you stood out like a sore thumb.

The weenies and bean counters have changed it all, and our government in this country have played a big part too, in cutting off the traditional life-blood of motorcycling with endless legislation designed to make it a shard as it can be to stick with biking if you’re young. The constant renewal of our numbers by youngsters is gone. It’s an Old man’s game now.

Sanitised.

Respectable.

Relatively tasteless too.

A lot of biking has the same flavour as all the Bullshit and PC that prevails all around us these days. Bland and with no spirit. There’s no refuge from it any more.

Don't even get me started on how sanitised and 'family friendly' a lot of bike shows are these days. More arrive in cars than on bikes, and you get CAR!!! demonstrations, stunts etc. It's enough to make you throw up, it really is.

It’s all bollocks, ……….and I bleddy hate it!

Bollocks is everywhere! (And, yes, I know that should be ‘are everywhere’!)

(Ooooh......... he's getting steam up! He needs a cold rub-down with a bit of hessian, he does, the poor dear) :oI

Still, there’s no changing any of it, and me being an Angry Young Man won’t do it either. (sigh), so, if you’re reading this, and have got mad at what I’ve said……… , then just read it again and get what I mean here, ok? If you're still all bristling and fierce, then, good, because it was aimed at a bullshitting limp prick like you! (And we all know a limp prick’s no use to anyone, don’t we?)

Some will be confused. You're the prolly the ones who haven't ever ridden on a Big Tool, and will die wondering. That's gonna be a real shame. :o)

The rest of you still standing will get what I mean. :o)

Last thought, after pondering a photo of her................

I say all that mean stuff about her, then I take a good long look at her and how she somehow represents the way things used to be, and I think to myself............ awwwww, she aint so bad really, ........... and, besides, it is bleddy good fun going after the Sports bikes on her.

I gotta give it to her, ............she sure gives it her best shot, and I can't fault her enthusiasm.

She frightens the shit outa them, (me too sometimes!!) .............. and that's gotta be a good thing :o)

K. :o)

Serving time......... and learning to walk first

Sunday, and the sun is shining. The day stretches before me, and what will I do with it? Something good…….. something useful, or will I ‘waste’ it like I seem to do so many these days. I dunno. Maybe I’ll take the Harley for a gallop. (I use the word ‘gallop’ very loosely……… in much the same way you would with a tractor.) :o)

Too nice a day not to I guess, but the trouble is I just don’t have the inspiration to point it anywhere in particular these days. A woman would help, one who likes to ride pillion on these machines. I’ve known four who loved it……….. two for years, and two for a shorter time, but it made all the difference. Doing things on your own all the time sure leaves the paint of life looking faded and dull.

Still no sign of Lomax. I dreamt he came back last night. I was in the lounge (in the dream), and he came out of one of the polythene shopping bags he used to play with as a kitten, and that still lie on the floor. He was thin, bedraggled, could hardly stand, and was beside himself to see me. It felt so good to have him rubbing up against me, butting heads, feel his warm little body on my chest, and hear his purr. I knew it was a dream as I was dreaming it, and tried to keep with it, but woke before I wanted to. I woke up pretty upset

God, I miss that little chap. He was quite something, and really got under my skin. I guess it’s the result of living alone, having very, very few friends to do things with, and especially no woman.

One minute women were no problem, the next it’s all over, and I’m reduced to loving a little pussy cat. How’d that ever happen without me noticing the shift?

Some hard biker, eh?

Some Sad Old Greaser, more like.

One thing’s for sure-certain……….. no woman’s going to want to rub up against me, unless I get my Shit Together a good bit better than this. Mind you, at fifty-four-and-a-bleddy-half they don’t want to know, Shit Together or not. It’s real hard to get my head around the fact that the party’s over. Sooner I do that, the better, but I guess it takes a while to make the transitions through the stages of your life. Hell, I never made the jump to ‘adult’, let alone ‘old’. Maybe that’s the whole problem. The friends my age all seem to be just fine with gracefully accepting the counsel of the years, ………..but not me, ……….oh no, ……….I gotta do it the hard way.

Always have, and always will. (Sigh)

I took the Harley into town to feed my magazine habit, and then followed a couple of newby bikers on sports bikes out of town. God it’s frightening to see them trying to run before they can walk, it really is. Even more so, because there are soooooo many of them. For pity’s sake, pass your test, and don’t buy something that’s always going to be trying to get away from you. Get a modestly performing bike, and when you can throw that about and are bored with it’s limitations, then get something a bit hotter, and work your way up. That way you won’t always be way ’behind’ a bike that’s always getting away from you, and leading you into situations you can’t handle. Being afraid of what you’re riding, for more than a short time, is a real bad thing. You’ll also do it more like the rest of us did in the old days. Oh yes we did………. Most of us were young and broke, and anyway, the quickest and fastest (There is a difference!) thing you could get back then was like a bicycle compared to what is so easily available nowadays.

Why does no-one want to serve any apprenticeship in anything these days???? The trouble with bikes, running before you can walk is a killer. Worse still, wifey/ partner/ girlfriend/ whoever, so often believes all the bullshit from her big brave man, gets matching leathers and helmet, and faithfully climbs on the back. Oh dear.

Gives me a nice ass to look at whilst I’m lining up for the optimally demoralising overtaking manoeuvre though. Sometimes, though, she looks so good I’m happy to plod along behind for a good few miles. Sometimes it’s kinda restful and therapeutic to ease up for a bit. :o)

I once advised a couple I met in a big dealership looking at bikes, and just day dreaming. It was mostly wifey actually……. Hubby came along to hear the advice, way too late to steer her away from listening to the Old Greaser, and he was quietly bloody furious. I had started to chat to her, as she was wandering about on her own, and she, on the other hand, was very interested in what someone with thirty-odd years in the saddle had to say. They had big plans to take their two kids around Europe on the back of their brand new two big Triumph Tiger bikes. (Big trail bikes, but tall and ungainly, and plenty fast enough to get you into trouble at the same time) They had passed their tests together two months ago, after some sort of quick access training, and certainly hadn’t been riding long at all. It was obvious hubby had convinced her all would be well.

Yeah, right.

I said, ok, great idea, ………….but definitely not with the kids on the back. Told them they weren’t anything like good enough yet, and there was a fair to even chance they’d live to regret it. They had money, looked very confident and successful, him in particular, and boy did he hate being told he wasn’t good at something, especially from what he obviously regarded as a low-life. Why do men in particular have soooooo much trouble hearing they’re not up to something, especially when it should be bloody obvious???? Their ego has killed a whole lot of them.

I believe in starting at the bottom and working your way upwards in life. Our generation was brought up that way, so it’s no surprise that I look at life that way. Ok, I’m not saying I don’t ever try to run before I can walk, because that’s one of my faults in life……… overreaching myself. BUT, because I was brought up to respect my elders, which goes hand in hand to respecting those who know more than me, whether older or younger, I will take advice, and criticism, and try and learn from it. It’s the fastest way I know of being able to run. I also know there are no short cuts around time too, and sometimes you just have to serve the apprenticeship.

An example………….

I took up scuba diving back in about ’85 or so, did the diving course here in Taunton, and soon got the basic Sport Diver qualification. Right after qualifying as safe to dive, I was encouraged,……… pushed actually, along with Alan, another ‘newby’ diver I used to buddy up with a lot, to go straight on to taking the Dive Leader qualification. It meant you would be qualified to organise, and take responsibility for, a group of qualified divers on a dive of any sort, anywhere,……. beach, boat, wreck or whatever.

I pretty much refused at first, because as far as I was concerned, I had only about a year’s experience, and no way was I good enough for others to put, effectively, their lives in my hands. I did it in the end, but purely to snub a couple of real wankers who only had six months more experience than Alan and I following in the training group behind them. They swaggered around, and bullshitted like they were Jacques Cousteau. Worse, actually…….. I doubt he swaggered and bullshitted around a whole lot. He wouldn’t feel the need to do that, for sure-certain. They always got right up my nose.

Anyway, Alan and I both did the course, and, because I wanted to beat these two twats, for once in my life I really swotted up on it all. I passed the examination with something like 98%.

Blimey!!!!

Waaaaay better than Le Wankeurs, which was the whole point of the exercise. Alan got a slightly lower mark, but easily beat them too……… they had only just scraped through, and were both a good bit quieter afterwards when we were around. Although Alan got a lower mark, he was actually a better diver than me, if only at the very least because he was a whole lot fitter than I ever was.

The purpose of telling you this isn’t to illustrate how brilliant I am, but, by saying that I never used the qualification to lead any dives, nor ‘lorded’ it over anyone else, that I believe in being time-served, and doing the miles so to speak, before walking the walk.

You only look stoopid when you try to walk the walk too early, and you rarely fool those who can.

As my dear old daddy used to say, quite often to me when I was trying to fool him with my youthful I-Know-It-All blab……….

“You can fool some of the people some of the time, but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time.”

How true.

K.

Thought For The Day

It's hard to get the perspective on it all, and I know I keep banging on about it (Those of you who know me), but browsing the net I'm often 'grabbed' by the sheer unimaginable enormity of it all.

I'm also convinced that God is some sort of residual effect surrounding us all, rather than a central intelligence. A collective 'intelligence', an effect of ,yet undiscovered, dimensions to the universe. Perhaps something that happens to us all as a result of out individual thoughts and actions, every bit as much as water rippling when you move your hand in it.

God surely just can't be a central Man-Like intelligence, watching, judging and guiding us............ and I'm fucking sure there are no 72 virgins awaiting the screwball religious zealots, as a reward for their sacrifice to bend us to their will, either!

And if he is.............. WHERE'S MY FUCKING PUSSY-CAT???????

(You can tell I'm a good bit pissed-off as usual, can't you? :o(


Highlighted are the mind-blowing details............ link them together.
What you've got is the ultimate truth that size matters! (Sigh)

Messier 51, The Whirlpool Galaxy. The SDSS image of this famous spiral galaxy (interacting with a smaller neighbour at the lower left) occupies about three one-millionths of the total sky area imaged by the SDSS. [SDSS = Sloan Digital Sky Survey (digital imaging telescope)]The SDSS imaging survey detected about 100 million galaxies, most of them much more distant, and thus much smaller and fainter in appearance, than M51. Some of these distant galaxies can be seen as small extended sources on this image, while the sharper, point-like sources are mostly foreground stars in our own Milky Way galaxy. The diameter of M51 is roughly 75,000 light years. (Credit: The Sloan Digital Sky Survey)

So, please forgive me, but I like to spell things out to myself.............. and not just because I know some of you out there are a good bit on the 'thick' side. (No. Please. No really........ it's no trouble........... I'm just a nice helpful kinda guy.) :o)

Get your mind around it. Focus, and really screw yourself up doing it too, like wot I do.................

A galaxy, 75,000 light years across, occupying about three one-millionths of the total area surveyed, and was one of about 100 million galaxies observed.

One galaxy holds billions of stars 'Suns', and one light year equals 5,878,499,814,186.5 miles (We won't get into the leap year thing, ok???)

It really, really blows me away Man!

You too????

So, with the Enormity Of It All in mind, what is my Thought For The Day?..................

Is all the Politically Correct bollocks in life, and especially at work, really so very important?

..............I rather think not.

The trouble is, we have given power to most people around us, particularly at work, and so it feels like it is.

Do something for me........... tell at least one weenie out there to Go Fuck Themselves! Most of you will come across at least one today.

Prolly best to just smile, and say it telepathically, though, ..........because the bastards usually do have power over your destiny here on Earth.

You never know............ it might make the leap. I did it yesterday to a visiting weenie, and she kinda looked over at me 'funny' as she left the building. I hadn't interacted with her at all....... was busy and had my back to her the whole time she was there, in fact.

Yup, ..............I think it had made the leap. :o)

K. :o)