A FEW MORE SHOTS I GOT IN AT WILLOWBANK BEFORE THE SUMMER SMELTER-SWELTER-MELTER SMACKED ME ON MY SUNBURNT ARSE . . . . THE POOR BLOKE PICTURED WAS CAMPAIGNING THIS MIGHTY TOUGH, QUICK [AT LEAST, POTENTIALLY] BIG INCH S&S SPORTY WEDGED INTO THE BUELL FRAME . . . . IT WAS NOT TO BE HIS DAY UNFORTUNATELY . . . . WHAT A DRAG.

To cut a long and frustrating story short, the bloke losing substantial amounts of weight and 'precious bodilyfluids' in the full leathers on a day that was the best part of forty degrees, has been persevering with this waycool, way long laddered, way tough lookin jigger for a couple of years . . . . big coin spent on the full tits S&S donk and box with all the goods, frame, forks, rubber, tuning, dyno, yada, yada, yada, but sadly for him on this day of reckoning, the whole operation turned to very runny, smelly poo and any chance of victory evaporated like race gas on the tarmac . . . .        

The thing was running like a very large sack of shite, his times were getting worse and worse and he was on the verge of heat stroke at one point, everything he and his sidekick/spannerman tried was not only in vain but retrograde by degrees, the epitome of the old chestnut 'oh well, that's racing' . . . . nonetheless, he kept going back for more time and time again when it would've been so easy to chuck it in and walk away, load the beast onto the trailer and fuck off home . . . . 

But, like all of you who race, in whatever form it may be, the reason he didn't was universal, he was getting his jollies, the rush, the adrenalin, the fix, even on a bike that was so letting him down . . . . the thrill of just being out there, that's what kept him humping his rapidly dehydrating bag of bones up to the Chrissy tree time after disappointing time, even on a bad day, it's the best thing going . . . . he'll be back at the next meeting doing exactly the same . . . . having a big fucking go !!!!