Author: Buck

I’m using that as a metaphor, btw. I find it fascinating that one cannot remember pain. You remember the sweats, the swearing, thinking death would be a mercy, but you can’t remember what the pain felt like. So it was with crashing my lovely, lovely motorcycle. Not the pain (metaphor remember? Pay attention at the back.) but the feeling of being fully alive. I’d forgotten. Or rather remembered as one remembers pain. I took it as a truism, that while “the prospect of being hanged focuses the mind wonderfully” it is nothing like as focusing as the reality of imminent pain and possibly sudden, violent death. And then, your front end is skipping around at stupid speeds and you are heading into a roundabout at stupid speeds unable to break. Suddenly it all comes back to you. However briefly. I can see why in my feckless youth I pursued that experience. There is nothing quite like it. You either live or die, but you are 100% alive until then. I can’t say I’m as fond now, in my later years. The pain and damage to my bike don’t seem worth it. But it is a hell of a rush. In case you’re wondering what the hell I’m on about, I’ll start from the beginning. I was riding to work on Friday night. It was 23.20, no traffic, bone dry roads, ideal conditions in other words. I was chugging along in a 40 zone, I saw the traffic lights were on green so I blipped the throttle to get to them before they changed. I was focused on the lights, no traffic, no worries. I saw I was going to make it through the lights so I went to jam on the brakes, only to find some utter bastard of a lorry driver had shed half of his load of sand on the road. It was 2 inches thick, loose dry sand. The front end started skipping about like crazy so I had to let the brakes off or crash. I hung on as I skipped over the sand, miraculously staying upright but by the time I had regained control I was still going too fast with the width of one lane between me and the roundabout. I had time to think “this is going to hurt”, *island amnesia* over the handlebars landed on my head, thought “dead”, *island amnesia* put head up looked around, on roundabout, put head back down *pain* “how’s my bike?” Odd. The calm “this is going to hurt”, the equally calm “dead” when I thought I was going to snap my neck, then no continuity like “ooh, not dead” Or “my that smarts” just; aware of the pain, “how’s my bike?” Anyway, the good new is I just bent my brake pedal and bent my handlebars a bit, and snapped something off my helmet. And grazed one engine casing. Nothing too serious. Buggered both my wrists and bashed my groin badly. And battered my ribs. And […]

Still loving my bike. It is bloody lovely. After I’d blogged last time I thought of a few things I should have added. For one thing I do seem to have learned restraint. In the past I’d tootle along until someone was in my way then I’d blast past them. And the one in front of them. I was a Pringle overtaker, once I’d popped I just couldn’t stop. Until Mr Plod had a word or I was picking the remains of my bike up. It was great fun, but not conducive to long periods of safe motorcycling. Anyway, I said about finding the torque-y part of the rev range on the same ride as I came off the motorway a BMW tried to pass me on the inside. I was feeling a bit sporty so I held him off. Then we came up behind an artic (bastard lorry drivers!) and I thought “let’s see you do this, sunshine”, I could have blasted down the separation zone, the foot or so wide bit painted down the middle to keep the traffic apart. This would have left me with millimetres to spare if a lorry had turned up the other way. This would not have even been a consideration before, I would have shot past and any potential oncoming traffic would have to make way or kill me. I di the unthinkable; I dropped off the revs and sat behind the lorry! Nothing came the other way, so I could have done it, but strangely I didn’t care. I’m still not too concerned about crashing and dying horribly, I’m just terrified of smashing up my lovely bike. So that’s good. I spotted some groovy gauntlets on ebay. My gloves are mad hot and not gauntlets. I’m of the old school. Gauntlets are what you wear on a motorcycle. Check that out for groovy! Half way to my elbow, thick but pliant leather with wool lining. When I convert it to a cafe racer I’m going to go the whole hog and get an open face helmet and goggles. And a white scarf. And boots with buckles. I’m drawing the line at turned up blue jeans though. Just looking and I am tempted by a modern take on the open face helmet. You know those pilot’s helmets with the slide down darkened visor/ sunglasses thing? That. Look I don’t know. I think the goggles and helmet look wins out if you can get it to work. The last time I had it the goggles were too big, wouldn’t fit in the helmet open face, so were totally useless. Try before I buy next time. If the goggles don’t work the above is an option.   You know the ongoing saga of my shin injury? I thought it might be related to my over-pronation, ie rolling my foot outwards as I run. Obviously this puts undue strain on things. And I had that massive injury when I tried to rush the conversion to […]

Just a quick one to say all is well and better than. Last week I was on the verge of quitting my super-duper job and going back to a mass stress, treated like shit one that provided regular hours. I’d had three shifts the week before, one shift that week. I was giving it until the end of this week then applying. Then I had five days on the trot working. This week, the last three days, have been long hours. I’m on for a £600- £700 week this week. I was looking at £800 plus but they stood me down yesterday. Apparently the Southern depot start doing the spud runs to Cornwall from now so they are maxed-out doing that, meaning loads of work for everyone else. And then it’s the holiday season, so the driver I was talking to reckons there will be work aplenty for the next three months. That will do nicely. I love this job but I needed more work. And here it is. Yay!   Then there’s the running. Following my training plan I’m now half way through week 5, (of 16 to marathon) I did a 15 mile run for my end of week ‘big’ run, and my injuries are no worse. My shins still hurt a bit. Enough to make me nervous they are about to go again, but so far they are holding out. 19 runs in 4½ weeks and still not broken.  Fingers crossed.   Wendy is doing the last day of her phased return to work tomorrow, after that she’s back to her regular hours next week. This is good. She has been freaking out as they’ve upgraded the system so instead of hand writing everything then inputting it into the PC later they just do it straight into the computer as they client tells them. She’s not best clever with computers. ‘Crap’ springs to mind, unbidden. So it’s been freaking her, but I think she’s sussed it now. And they are having her refresh her specialist skills in benefits as well as debt, she’s going to be doing two days a week Specialist Debt Advisor, two as a Specialist Benefits Advisor. Benefits are not her favourite, but in these uncertain times hers is the most most secure job there now. Even if they lay off all the paid staff and go back to being a volunteer only branch (because they lose all the government funding, could well happen) she is then the most qualified for a job in other sectors, such as housing trusts.   But all this is a sideline, a mere added bonus to the win-fest that is the bike! (Wendy still doesn’t thinks so.) It’s beyond lovely. I’ve already tensioned the chain, changed the plugs, cleaned the air filter, downloaded a digital workshop manual and looked up other stuff. Today I was off so I took some parts I’d ordered (two tiny washers and a new air filter) and did an internet fix. Apparently Kawasaki […]

OK, my maturity and delayed gratification ethos may have had a bit of a blip. I was obsessing over that Kwak W650, but delaying buying one until we’d paid our debts. I was doing lots of window shopping though. Lot’s of 1999 or 2000 bikes for sale, about £3,500- £4000. Then I found out in 2003 they upgraded the front brake and put lower handlebars on. Obviously I then wanted the newer version. Less time to rust, better spec. I also realised I had enough credit on my credit card to buy one. Once I’d realised that the die was cast, really. Then someone advertised a 2004 bike, 17,000 miles, lovely condition, for a smidge under £3K. I cracked like an egg. After the kids vandalising my car I’m scared to leave it around the front, but I’ll try and get some better quality pictures soon. I’ve started tinkering a bit. Changed the plugs, ordered a new air filter, adjusted the tickover, adjusted the chain tension. It felt like it was gasping a bit. Then it cut out on me twice. After worrying about that for two days I finally solved the problem. I put petrol in the tank. Who knew? It’s hard to convey what a difference it is. In a car you sit there, bored and frustrated and at best get from A to B without too much hassle. On a bike you enjoy the ride and are gutted to arrive. First ride in the rain today, and even though I was tip-toeing around it was still great. Over the last few days I’ve remembered what biking is about. All that horrible stuff you hate about car driving, queues, arseholes in BMW’s screaming from the lights, it’s all fun on a bike. Nip to the front of the queue grinning the whole time. Beemer boy smokes it from the lights, twist of the wrist and you are monstering him. It’s pure joy. I’m managing to stick to sensible speeds and ride fairly safely. I tried to reassure Wendy, who thinks I’m going to kill myself that it’s such a lovely bike, and I’m so happy with it, I just want to keep it upright and in one piece. I said “I really think this will be the last bike I ever buy.” Wendy replied “That’s what I’m worried about.” Got a new bike jacket as well. Tons of armour. All kevlar and such. Not that I intend to crash, but I want to be fit enough to seriously pound anyone who crashes into me. I’ve got the bike, now I just need lots and lots of work to pay for it. As things wear out and when I’ve paid everything off, I’ll start converting it into a cafe racer. For now though, it a beautiful bike as it is. Oh, I also got a bunch of kit with it. A screen, a back rack and topbox, and engine crash bars. And it has heated grips for winter. So […]

Been a while since I blogged, it’s just been same ol’, same ol’. Things are changing now though. Wendy has been off work for about 9 months with that gall bladder thing. Since the operation, and the post surgery infection, she was getting a lot better but last week she had some bad pains again. Not the agony of the previous condition, but painful enough to force her to go back to the doctors. They suspect that some of the gall stones were missed when they removed the gall bladder. They’ve booked her in for another ultrasound scan to see if that is the case. If so she’ll have to have more surgery down the road. For now though, they have provisionally signed her as fit for work from a week on Monday. She’s itching to get back. The longer it’s dragged on the more she’s been worried they would sack her. This is good news for our bank account as well. Bloody SSP is a pittance. Normally that would not be a concern, my wages, although up and down, have been keeping us going (and actually paying off some of our debts! This job ROCKS!)  but I now have an exciting new obsession; the Kawasaki W650 motorcycle. I need us to get out of debt so I can put us back in to get one. Hence Wendy’s return to work is good all round! I’ve had my sights set on a Harley Davidson Sportser, just the ‘baby’, the 883 CC one. As you can see, very pretty. It was to be a stepping stone then in a few years move up to the Harley I really want, the big Heritage Softail. Obviously the last word in practicality and knee-down performance with that ground clearance. Surprisingly cheap, starting at around £6- 7K. Well, it surprised me, I thought they were over £10K even old. But I digress. I have had my head turned, again, by that Kawasaki W650. A retro bike in the style of it’s 60’s predecessor, the styling of which was in turn ‘influenced’ (stolen wholesale) from the Brit twins of the time. Look at this:   Just zoom in and marvel at it’s beauty. The peashooter exhausts, the kick-start (kick-start! Ha!) The faux pushrod covers (silver tubes up the side of the engine) the fork gaiters, the finned, air cooled engine, the tank knee pads, the drum rear brake, the absence of plastic. It is a work of art. The negative part of reviews can only say that it isn’t a screaming race bike. The engine is ‘soft tuned’. Bah and meh! Missing the point. If you want a plastic fantastic 200mph street screamer go and buy a Hayabusa, they are made for the job: They are not without their own charm, just not what I’m after. They may look as ugly as sin, but ridden right no-one will ever know.   However,the W650 is what I want. ‘Only’ good for 110 mph, looks drop-dead gorgeous, and […]