"BMW R100 CAFE RACER - 1979" . . . . 'CAFE RACER' . . . . HMMMM . . . . YET ANOTHER TERM THAT HAS BECOME THE VICTIM OF DEROGATORY COMMENTARY IN RECENT TIMES . . . . WITH THE RISE OF THE EVER MORE COMMON 'STREET TRACKER' THE HUMBLE COFFEE ROCKET HAS TAKEN A TUMBLE IN CRED . . . . WELL, LET ME GET IT OUT IN THE OPEN, A LOT OF THE STREET TRACKERS I SEE ARE FUCKING UGLY, ANGULAR, COBBLED TOGETHER, DORK MACHINES !!!

"BEAUTY OF FORM SHOULD NEVER GO OUT OF STYLE . . . . ALL GREAT BUILDERS RECOGNISE IT"

When did ugly bikes become cool, when did putting together something with the aesthetic rewards of a seven year old's Lego experiment become beautiful, which influential fuckwit decided that broken lines, knobbly tires, 'breadbox' tanks and black everything was a concept to be lauded, I can't answer any of those questions but I clearly missed the brief . . . . I guess some crew, in a desperate attempt to stay one step ahead in the fashion stakes, will pick up anything just to remain hip and happening in their own shallow, stagnant little pond, news flash, penis breath, you're just a sad, tragic hiccough in the larynx of life, exactly like boxy, lumpy, hideous, overhyped street trackers are, check out the guys who do it well then take a squiz at your stuff, see the difference, no, I thought not . . . . I had a point to all this however it's now moot, just relax and enjoy a pretty decent vid featuring a downright stylish R100 cafe racer, a wee bit wanky with the short black reference perhaps, but the overall concept of the footage, storyboard and bike itself are a much more desirable, enjoyable and enduring package than the uglier-than-a-hat-full-of-arseholes, two wheeled monstrosities masquerading as street trackers will ever be, save some bucks and my eyesight, buy a dirtbike . . . . somebody had to say it.

MUDHONEY - "I LIKE IT SMALL" [OFFICIAL VIDEO APPARENTLY] . . . . MR ARM SOUNDING AS THOUGH HE'S CHANNELING MR OSTERBERG IN THIS CHEERFUL LITTLE DITTY CELEBRATING LACK OF SIZE . . . . QUALIFIED LEGENDS OF THE GRUNGE FAMILY CIRCUS AND SEATTLE, SUB-POP SUPERSTARS, MUDHONEY JUST KEEP ON ROLLIN . . . . MUSTA SEEN THEM FIVE OR SIX TIMES OVER THE YEARS AND NEVER DISAPPOINTED, GROWING OLD DISGRACEFULLY, FUCK YEAH !!!

'TOUCH ME, I'M SICK' CAME OUT IN '89 OR THEREABOUTS AND EVER SINCE, THE OFFSHOOT OF SEMINAL SEATTLE OUTFIT, 'GREEN RIVER' [GOTTA LOVE THE BACKGROUND BEHIND THE NAME, AND IT WASN'T CREDENCE] HAS BEEN CHUGGIN ALONG HAPPILY DOING THEIR OWN TRIP, THAT TRIP IS PROTOTYPICAL PUNK INFUSED BLUES ROCK, GRUNGE IF YOU MUST . . . . I ALWAYS PUT EM IN WITH SONIC YOUTH AND DINOSAUR JUNIOR AS MY OWN LITTLE TRIUMVIRATE OF TRES COOL TRASH, IF YOU'VE NEVER SEEN THEM, FIX THAT SHIT AT THE EARLIEST POSSIBLE CONVENIENCE, IF YOU AIN'T NEVER HEARD EM, PAY ATTENTION THEN GO AND BUY SOME OF THEIR STUFF.

"GAMES YOU CAN PLAY WHEN IT'S RAINING" . . . . READ A BOOK, EAT A DELICIOUS DINNER WITH THE MOST ERGONOMICALLY BRILLIANT CUTLERY, DRINK LOTS OF BEER AND WINE . . . . THE LOST BOYS, SNOOZING, LOSING AND SYNCHRONIZED SLEEPING . . . . BACK IN '73 LIBERACE WAS A PUGILIST, HE STOLE OUR JAMIE AWAY, THEN BEAT HIM AROUND THE RING . . . . EARLY TO RISE AND HIT THE FROG AND TOAD . . . . WOULDA BEEN A BITCHIN MORNING FOR THE SCOOT.

DEVO "GUT FEELING" LIVE 1977 . . . . A SAD FUCKING DAY . . . . ALLAN MYERS, ORIGINAL DRUMMER AND TIMEKEEPER WITH THIS HUGELY INFLUENTIAL BAND DIES AT 58 OF BRAIN CANCER . . . . FROM 77 UNTIL THE MID 80's MYERS KEPT ALL KINDS OF RADICAL TIME BEHIND THE KIT FOR THE BOYS FROM AKRON . . . . A NATURAL AND INTUITIVE DRUMMER, NOBODY ELSE COULD'VE BROUGHT WHAT HE DID TO THEIR TABLE OF TWISTED, QUIRKY ELECTRO PUNK.

FOR THOSE WHO WERE ACTUALLY DIGGING THEIR STUFF THROUGH THE YEARS OF '78, '79 AND '80 YOU'LL KNOW JUST HOW TOTALLY RAD THESE GUYS WERE, LIKE NOTHING ELSE ANYWHERE, IF YOU WERE INTO IT, MOST OF YOUR FRIENDS THOUGHT YOU WERE A COMPLETE RETARD . . . . THEN, BY THE RELEASE OF 'FREEDOM OF CHOICE' ALL THE JOCKO HOMOS WERE RAVING EM UP . . . . FUCK IT, NO POINT GETTING BITTER NOW . . . . REST IN PEACE ALLAN MYERS, YOU WERE A MAJOR PART OF SOMETHING NEW, WONDERFUL AND UNIQUE, THANK YOU . . . . ARE WE NOT MEN, WE ARE DEVO.

"POWERPLANT CHOPPERS - BORN FREE 5" . . . . SAW THIS SOMEWHERE LAST WEEK, DESERVES MORE AIRTIME SO HERE GOES, WHAT DO WE HAVE . . . . ONE SHIT HOT BIKE BUILDER, ONE SKATER/ARTIST/MUSO/WRITER/NON-CONFORMIST, SOME PARTIALLY NEKKID CHICKS, SEVERAL COOL SCOOTS, COUPLE OF TOUGH CARS . . . . SOME STRANGE SMOKING OBJECTS BEING PASSED AROUND, BULKY'S EYES BECOMING GLAZED, FUCK ALL CONTENT . . . . IT'S CALLED PERFECTION.

A few months ago I was musing and mumbling about the possible whereabouts and what-has-become-of Yaniv Evan from Poweplant, then he turns up at the Mooneyes gig in Yokohama and now he's here in one of the Builder Profiles for BF5, being interviewed by none other than multi media superstar and long time outsider, Steve Olson . . . . I love it, nothing particularly new or adventurous but it's certainly a breath of fresh air as far as the run of the mill builder vids go, a decent slice of pisstaking, a nice dollop of scrumptious, workshop fluff, some cool rides of both two and four wheeled persuasion and not a lot achieved in the end. I figure there musta been some pretty gnarly avgas fumes wafting about at the time because Olson's eyes appear pretty well toast by the end of the shoot . . . . not too much being taken seriously here folks . . . . thank fuck for a bit of levity !!!

"BORN FREE 5 DUAL CARB 1952 PANHEAD BUILD" . . . . KEVIN 'TEACH' BAAS AND A PREVIEW OF HIS BF5 CONCOCTION, TWO OF ANYTHING IS ALWAYS GONNA BE MORE RAD THAN ONE . . . . THE WORLD'S BIGGEST GIG IN CONTEMPORARY, INDEPENDENT, CUSTOM BIKE BUILDING IS ONLY A FEW DAYS AWAY . . . . AND YET AGAIN, I'M NOT WITHIN COOEE OF THE THING, THERE WAS NO POINT GETTING PSYCHED TO BE THERE THIS YEAR . . . . BUT MY TIME WILL COME.

Like many of you who have never been to what has always looked to be a gathering of many of the coolest custom bikes in the 'real world', I've been eagerly 'following' the shebang since it first came to light as a small, indy operation five years ago. Now it's become a gargantuan indy operation that still appears to maintain the integrity and spirit that Grant Peterson and Mike Davis envisioned when they first put it together. I had hoped to actually make the flight across the Pacific last year but it was not to be, this year went the same way, only I chose to recognize the reality of the omens early on rather than play it out in blissful ignorance when all along I knew deep down all was folly.

So, here I sit once again, having read the latest updates, checked out any new vids being posted on PooTube and drooling over highlights from the BF1 through 4. And I still find myself drawn to this single event like a moth with a heavy masochistic streak, my love of all things two wheeled is pretty fucking diverse and entrenched, yet there is something about the Born Free caper that captures my passion every single year and it doesn't subside, rather it intensifies and continues to grow . . . . hopefully Mike and Grant will still feel inclined to do it again next year, hopefully everyone will have a fat time at BF5 this year, and hopefully, by the time I get my shit together the Born Free flag will still be flying over some patch of dirt in Southern California . . . . so much to see, so little time.

AIRBOURNE - "LIVE IT UP" . . . . LET THERE BE NO MISTAKIN IT FOLKS, AUSSIE HAS A HUGE HISTORY OF HARD-ROCKIN, KICK ARSE BANDS . . . . THESE DUDES PROUDLY WEAR THEIR INFLUENCES ON THEIR MUSICAL SLEEVES, ACCA DACCA, THE TATTS AND THE ANGELS, LOUD AND PROUD . . . . GOING OFF LIKE A FROG IN A SOCK, FOOT TO THE FLOOR, PEDAL TO THE METAL ROCK AND FUCKING ROLL . . . . PLUS SOME UBER COOL TYRE SMOKIN ACTION TO BOOT

Skinny white boys growing beards, wearing Pendleton's, riding choppers and being real OG cool should love this shit, super basic, 4/4 beat, straight ahead, brain bangin tuneage that doesn't test your total inability to dance to something with more of a groove to it, music you can maintain your image to under pressure . . . . damn, there I go again Lovey, turning all septic, oh well . . . . fuck it.

"CONFESSIONS OF A WATCH GEEK" OR "EVERYBODY'S GOT A DORK SIDE" . . . . I MENTIONED ABOUT A YEAR AGO THAT I'VE ALWAYS BEEN INTO SEIKO DIVER'S WATCHES . . . . WELL, OVER THE LAST TEN MONTHS OR SO IT'S BECOME SOMETHING OF AN ADDICTION . . . . SCOURING THE NET, LOOKING FOR GOOD EXAMPLES OF THIRTY AND FORTY YEAR OLD CLASSIC SEIKOS . . . . I'VE ALSO ENTERED INTO 'MODDING' THE LITTLE FUCKERS . . . . TOLD YOU I WAS A GEEK !!!

Both of the watches below started life as bog stock Seiko SKX007's, the typical, timeless and classic diver's piece that is still in production now, thirty plus years after it's introduction, after having worn nothing but Quartz examples since 1980, I never thought I'd be wearing and loving automatic watches again, but I am, and loving it, I used to have four watches in total and only one that I wore 24/7/365, now I'm 'rotating' over a dozen out of 33 I've collected, what the fuck is that . . . . in many ways the auto is akin to the relationship between a panhead or knuckle and a current series twin cam, the latter is the state of the art extension of the former, all tricked up with all the modern internals, still looks incredibly similar but in the final analysis, they lack the feeling and the soul of the original, just watching the smooth, fluid sweep of the automatic's second hand is a real trip for me.

While I haven't actually built them, the design concepts for both are all mine, the twenty year old dials, the handsets from four different watches, the bezel inserts, the chapter rings with the minute markings outside the dial, the custom made anti-reflective coating, double domed crystals and the selection of bracelets and bands all came from my purdy li'l hayed . . . . there ain't another watch in the world remotely like either of these, not one, entirely and completely individual, while my bikes mightn't be anything radically different from the rest, these little jiggers are indeed a couple of primo examples of one off original customs. Remember, I ain't no millionaire, these are fairly cheap Jappy watches, but they're bulletproof and utterly reliable. Like I said, I'm a geek and always have been . . . . too much shit to love and not enough time to do it all in, model soldiers to motorcycles, life's a box of chocolates

ABOVE, THE BOG STANDARD, OUT OF THE BOX SEIKO SKX007 AUTO DIVER.

MY FIRST MODDED EXAMPLE . . . . 'THE FISH BOWL'

NUMBER TWO, ARRIVED FROM MY WATCHSMITH THIS MORNING . . . . 'THE ORANGE WHIP'

"BREAKFAST IN BRUNSWICK HEADS" . . . . IT'S BECOME A TRADITION ON THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE . . . . FRESH BACON AND EGG ROLLS, MY SKIM CHOCOLATE MILKSHAKE WITH AN EXTRA SQUIRT OF CHOCOLATE, WAY TO GO . . . . . ALWAYS USED TO TOTE AN OLD SURPLUS CANVAS BAG, I'VE GONE ALL NUOVO MONDO AND AM DOING THE KNOG . . . . SHE'S A BIG MOTHER BUT FULLY WATERPROOF AND EASY ON THE SHOULDER CARE OF THE FAT STRAP.

BRUNS IS A TYPICAL AUSSIE SEASIDE TOWN, STILL A BIT LIKE A TIME WARP BACK TO DAYS OF YORE, A SENSE OF INNOCENCE, OF BEING NOT PART OF ALL THAT IS WRONG WITH THE BIG, BLAND, SPRAWLING SUBURBAN CENTRES THAT SO DOMINATE THE NEWS AND PERCEPTIONS OF THE MASSES . . . . BY-PASSED BY THE NEW MOTORWAY AND LEFT TO FEND FOR ITSELF, TOWNS LIKE BRUNS CONTINUE TO GROW AT THEIR OWN, SLOWER PACE, A MORE ORGANIC, NATURAL WAY OF THINGS, DESPITE THE INFLUX OF THOSE ESCAPING THE CLAMOUR AND CRUSH OF THE BIG SMOKE.

"ANOTHER NIGHT WITH THE MAGIC LANTERN" . . . . I SPENT THE NIGHT AT THE HOUSE ON THE HILL ONCE MORE WITH GREAT PEOPLE, GOOD FOOD, GOOD WINE, GOOD TUNES AND GOOD TIMES . . . . A NICE RELAXING RIDE DOWN IN THE PERFECT SUNSHINE OF A WINTER'S DAY LATE AFTERNOON . . . . RUNNING IN TANDEM WITH A DECENT DRIVER IN FRONT OF ME, WITH THE PAIR OF US SITTING ON A 130 KPH ALL THE WAY . . . . EVEN THE SKIRTSTER GOBBLES THE GAS.

It was my fifty second birthday yesterday, so to get a good bit of distance under my wheels, spend some time with my friends having a fantastic, relaxed night, not getting too badly mulched, waking up to a cracker of a day in the Godzone, was a brilliant way to let another year slide by . . . . still feel the same as I did over thirty years ago . . . . I wonder what I'll become when I grow up ???

GRACE POTTER AND THE NOCTURNALS "RAGGED COMPANY" - FEATURING WILLIE NELSON . . . . WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I BEEN MISSING ??? GOT TURNED ONTO THIS AMAZING LADY ONLY LAST NIGHT IN THE STUDIO BY MY MAN, TEZ . . . . SUCH AN INSANE DEPTH OF SONGWRITING TALENT, MUSICAL VARIATION AND MUSICIANSHIP . . . . THIS IS REAL MUSIC FOR A MODERN WORLD OBSESSED WITH SURFACE LEVEL, TRANSIENT, SUPERFICIAL DROSS . . . . THIS IS LEGIT.

CLEARLY INSPIRED BY THE TIMELESS SONGS AND PERFORMERS OF YESTERDAY AND DRIVEN BY HER OWN UNIQUE SENSE OF SELF, THEN THROW ONE OF HER OBVIOUS PERSONAL HEROES INTO THE MIX AND YOU GET THIS STANDOUT TRACK . . . . THIS GIRLY AND HER MAJORLY TALENTED BAND REALLY MOVES ME, AND TO THINK UP UNTIL LAST NIGHT I WAS BLISSFULLY IGNORANT OF HER EXISTENCE, I DON'T KNOW HOW THAT SHIT HAPPENED BUT I'M STOKED THE SITUATION HAS BEEN REMEDIED !!!

KVELERTAK - "KVELERTAK" . . . . A FULLY WICKED BAND FROM NORWAY, KINDA LIKE '70's ROCK MEETS HAEMORRHAGING FROM THE LARYNX 'GWAAAAAR' METAL . . . . INTRODUCED TO ME BY A YOUNG CHICK CALLED STEVIE ABOUT THREE YEARS AGO . . . . I'M NOT NORMALLY A LOVER OF THE NORDIC METAL THANG BUT THIS IS JUST PLAIN OLD ROCK+ROLL WITH A SHOT OF ADRENALIN IN THE NECK . . . . CRANK THE NOISE UP OR CRANK UP THE BIKE, JUST CRANK IT !!!!

A FEW QUICK SHOTS OF A COUPLE OF MATES MOTORSICKLES, THEY'RE NOT MY BAG AS FAR AS BEING ANYTHING I'D EVER OWN BUT IT'D BE A DULL-AS-PISS WORLD IF EVERYONE WAS ME . . . . I'VE ALWAYS DONE MY BEST TO SEE THE GOOD IN THINGS OUTSIDE MY REALM OF PERSONAL PREFERENCE . . . . MAYBE THAT'S WHY I'VE GOT SO LITTLE TIME AND RESPECT FOR HATERS AND BLINKERED, CLOSED MINDED FOOLS . . . . YOU DON'T HAVE TO LOVE IT, JUST APPRECIATE IT.

I OBVIOUSLY DO QUITE A BIT OF HATING MYSELF, ANYONE WHO'S READ THIS ONGOING PALAVER WILL KNOW THAT, SO I'M NOT GUILT FREE, BUT I RECKON ON THE WHOLE I DON'T ALIENATE EVERYDAY CREW AND WHAT THEY'RE INTO SIMPLY BECAUSE THEIR TASTES DON'T RUN PARALLEL TO MINE . . . . LIVE AND LET LIVE, BRING THE LOVE, NOT THE HATRED, VARIETY REALLY IS THE SPICE OF LIFE AND TWO WHEELS IS ALWAYS TWO LESS THAN FOUR, THE WIND IN YOUR FACE FEELS THE SAME WHETHER YOU'RE ON A HARLEY OR A HODAKA, A VELOCETTE OR A VESPA . . . . FTW FOLKS, NO COPYRIGHT, NO PATENT, NO LIES . . . . AND I'M NOT TALKIN ABOUT FUCK THE WORLD . . . . OPEN YOUR MIND, IT WON'T HURT.

THE HITMEN - "DON'T HIT GIRLS" . . . . OR CHOKE EM, OR SMACK EM, OR TOUCH EM UP WHEN THEY SAY NO . . . . PERSONALLY, I RECKON NIGELLA'S A STUCK UP LITTLE RICH GIRL, BUT THAT SHIT IS BESIDE THE POINT . . . . THE COCKHEAD SHE'S MARRIED TO IS CLEARLY AN OLD AGE, SERIAL CHAUVENIST PIG AND MISOGYNIST . . . . "BUT THERE WAS NO GRIP" HE SAID IN HIS DEFENCE . . . . SURE MOTHERFUCKER, LIKE BILL CLINTON NEVER INHALED . . . . DON'T HIT GIRLS.

THE LIME SPIDERS - "SLAVE GIRL" . . . . FROM THE PRIMORDIAL MISTS OF THE EARLY EIGHTIES GARAGE/SWAMP/GRUNGE/POST PUNK ROCK COMES THIS BALLTEARING, ARSE KICKING AUSSIE CLASSIC . . . . MICK BLOOD SPITTING CHUNKS OFF HIS VOCAL CHORDS WHILE THE BAND EXPLODES ALL AROUND . . . . DEFINITIVE AND DIRTY, GUITAR DRIVEN, HONEST ROCK+ROLL AT ITS PRE-EMINENT BEST . . . . CRANK IT UP TO 'DEAFEN THE NEIGHBOURS', RATTLE SOME CHAINS.

"BON RUN 2013 PART 2 AND 6 " ['GONZADEATH' POOTUBE] . . . . MORE SUPER LEGIT COOL SHIT FROM GONZADEATH-SAN IN THE LAND OF THE RISING SUN . . . . FOR NEARLY EIGHT YEARS THIS DUDE HAS BEEN UPLOADING TASTY STUFF ON POOTUBE . . . . THE 'BON RUN' SEEMS TO ALWAYS ATTRACT HUGE NUMBERS AND AWESOME BIKES, SOME YOU MIGHT HAVE SEEN BEFORE, OTHERS NOT . . . . THE JAPPY DUDES ROCK THIS SHIT AS WELL AS ANYONE THE WORLD OVER, BANZAI !!!

Don't be a hater, don't buy into the moronic, racist argument that they have no business being into this thing, it's absolute bullshit and the product of tiny minded needledicks with a raging jealousy complex, Japan has had such an immersion in American culture since the end of WWII it's as much in their blood as anyone from the middle of Milwaukee, furthermore, they appear to have a bunch more honest fun being involved in it than many from the States, UK or Aussie who are frequently much more concerned with others perception of themselves . . . . despite all the period perfection, the hip gear, the constant tipping of their hats to the iconography and reference points associated with the bikes and the lifestyle, they do it because they love it and are mental about it, that in itself is worthy of utmost respect . . . . fuck the attitude, let's ride !!!!

**** CHECK OUT THE REST OF G-DEATH'S VID PORTFOLIO ON POOTUBE . . . . FREE YOUR MIND AND THE REST WILL FOLLOW, BE COLOURBLIND, DON'T BE SO SHALLOW.

THE PURPLE PENIS IN A DIFFERENT LIGHT . . . . I WAS ORIGINALLY GONNA BIN THIS SHOT FROM YESTERDAY'S MOUNTAIN MOMENTS BUT I'VE NEVER SEEN THE TANK DISPLAY THIS PARTICULAR HUE . . . . WITH THE WINTER SUN SINKING IN THE WEST, THE ENTIRE RIDGE I WAS ON WAS BATHED IN THE PINK GLOW THAT IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE SHIFT IN COLOUR . . . . AND TODAY IS LOOKING LIKE A CARBON COPY . . . . DEFINITELY DOING MY CALLS ON THE BIKE !!!

THE BRAND NEW HEAVIES - "NEVER STOP" . . . . TRYING TO MAINTAIN THE UP-VIBE IN THE MOMENTS BEFORE HITTING THE SACK . . . . THESE GUYS WERE THE BIZ IN THE DAYS OF THE ACID JAZZ THANG . . . . THEN, WOULDN'T YOU JUST KNOW IT, USURPED BY A BUNCH OF MARAUDING MARKETING SHYSTERS AND CLEVER DICK A+R DUDES CHASING A QUICK BUCK WITH B-GRADE ACTS AND NO TALENT . . . . KILLER GROOVES, PURE SILK VOCALS . . . . YEAH, NICE.

ANYONE WHO TELLS ME THEY CAN GET SERIOUSLY JIGGY WITH SOMEONE WHILE ANTHRAX OR OZZIE SCREAMS AWAY IN THE BOUDOIR HAS GOT TO BE LYING . . . . OR SHIT SCARED OF INTIMACY.

A PRETTY MUCH CRAP WEEK ENDS ON A NATURAL HIGH COURTESY OF MOTHER NATURE AND A HANG GLIDER . . . . EVERYONE HAS TIMES WHEN THE SHIT IN LIFE BECOMES OPPRESSIVE, THE JOYS OF LIVING GET TRAMPLED UNDER THE FEET OF THINGS BEYOND YOUR CONTROL . . . . THAT'S BEEN THE LAST HALF OF MY WEEK IN A NUTSHELL . . . . AND THEN IN THE SPACE OF ONE HOUR THIS ARVO, IT ALL TURNED AROUND . . . . IN THE CHILL WIND ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP.

I hadn't ridden much this week, despite my best laid plans and intentions, yesterday's brilliant blue skies and crisp winter air were completely unsullied by mine and the Purple Penis's presence, as was much of today, but delivering my darling daughter to her mother's slightly earlier than anticipated was all the leeway that was needed to have me and the skirtster heading for the hinterland at half four of the p.m to suck in the last hour or so of a stunning winter's day . . . . moving in the opposite direction to the end of Sunday traffic heading back to the Coast, we got clear of the sprawl and I gave the Penis Mosheen the gas and it felt brilliant, the cool air pricking at my exposed face and at the same time lavishing the motor and its fresh Lucas life blood with the perfect temperature for maximum performance, well, for a Harley, as we throbbed up the twisties to the top of Mount Tamborine.

And there we were greeted with a picture perfect sunset as the golden orb at the centre of our pissy little puniverse ebbed slowly but surely into the west behind the distant and ancient volcanic mountains to the far side of neighboring Beaudesert, thirty miles from where I stood. There was a crowd of daytrippers and Jappy tourists standing about as a lone hang glider hove into view and it was simply spectacular, one of the most beautiful sights I've clapped eyes on in quite some time . . . . and suddenly, the last vestiges of what had been a fairly ordinary and frustrating week slipped silently away with the vanishing sun, I'd chosen my time with precision and the reward was this stellar display from Mother Nature and her giant, invisible hands that operate and guide this most amazing cosmic machine on a daily basis. My sense of joy and contentment was restored and replenished . . . . I had dinner at the local pub, collected my thoughts, donned my new wax jacket, my gloves and my lid, thumbed the go button and headed for home, one happy bloke on board his happy little scoot.

 

"BMW MOTORCYCLE RACING - ISLE OF MAN TT 1939" . . . . AN AUSGEZEICHNET MINI-DOC ON ONE OF THE GREATEST WINS IN THE HISTORY OF THE IOM TT . . . . GEORGIE MEIER FROM ZE FARZERLAND ASTRIDE HIS SUPERCHARGED REICH ROCKET BUZZ BOMBED THE COURSE AND TOOK HOME THE TROPHY TO ADOLF . . . . WHO PROMPTLY LOST IT TO AVID BIKE ENTHUSIAST, HEINRICH HIMMLER, IN A GAME OF NUDE POKER JUST PRIOR TO THE INVASION OF POLAND.

I'VE ALWAYS BEEN A FAN OF THE FACTORY SUPERCHARGED BEEMER PRE-WAR RACER, IT WAS ONE AWESOME BIT OF KIT AND LOOKED THE ABSOLUTE TITTIES, THE FACT IT WENT ON TO WIN THE TT WAS CERTAINLY EVIDENCE OF THAT, IT WAS I BELIEVE, THE FIRST TIME A NON BRITISH BIKE HAD TAKEN OUT THE HONOURS . . . . SO CHUFFED WERE THE POMS THAT THEY IMMEDIATELY BANNED ANYTHING WITH A HAIRDRYER ATTACHED TO THE DONK TO ENSURE A REPEAT PERFORMANCE NEVER EVENTUATED, AS IT TRANSPIRED, A LITTLE SCUFFLE CALLED WWII BROKE OUT AND RACING WAS CANCELLED . . . . AS WE KNOW, ZE FARZERLAND AND THE THOUSAND YEAR REICH CAME SECOND IN THAT SKIRMISH AND THE LAST THING ON THE MIND OF THE KRAUTS IN 1946 WAS ENTERING A SCOOT IN THE TT, THEY WERE FLAT OUT WORKING ON THE SOON TO BE RELEASED, FULL RACE PURPOSED, ISETTA, ODDLY ENOUGH, POWERED BY AN ACTUAL HAIRDRYER . . . . SERIOUSLY, WOULD I LIE TO YOU ??

TOM WAITS "LIE TO ME" . . . . GARGLING GRAVEL, SIPPING WHISKEY AND SMOKING LUCKY'S HAVE BEEN GOOD TO MR WAITS OVER THE YEARS . . . . NOT ONLY THAT, HIS STEADFAST COMMITMENT TO NOT SELLING HIMSELF DOWN THE COMMERCIAL SEWER CAN ONLY BE FURTHER RESPECTED . . . . THE MAN'S A CERTIFIED LEGEND IN A WORLD WHERE SO MUCH PATHETIC, DISPOSABLE DROSS IS ACCORDED THAT MONIKER . . . . HOLD FAST, BE TRUE.

ALL THOSE CLASSIC BIKE RIDER LINES ABOUT 'IT'S ALWAYS THE CAR DRIVER'S FAULT', 'THEY DON'T LOOK PROPERLY', 'THEY DIDN'T SEE ME COMING' . . . . IT'S CERTAINLY CORRECT ON SOME OCCASIONS, MANY OF THOSE, REMOTE IN THEIR AIR-CONDITIONED, HI-FI COCOONS DON'T KNOW DIDDLY . . . . THEN THERE ARE DICKHEADS WHO RIDE LIKE THIS AND FULLY DESERVE EVERY BIT OF PAIN AND HASSLE THAT COMES THEIR WAY . . . . TOO FUNNY, IDIOT !!!!!

NO APOLOGIES FROM ME . . . . RIDE LIKE A WANKER AND YOU GET WHAT'S COMING TO YA, BAD STUFF HAPPENS EASILY ENOUGH EVEN WHEN YOU'RE IN THE RIGHT . . . . I'VE GOT NO SYMPATHY FOR KOOKS LIKE THIS DIPSHIT, ZIP . . . . JUST ENORMOUS BELLY LAUGHS . . . . AND I HOPE IT HURTS LIKE HELL.

THAT'S NOT TO SAY I'M DOWN ON POPPIN WHEELIES, DOING BURNOUTS, RIDING NUDE OR ANYTHING ELSE YOU'D CARE TO MENTION . . . . JUST USE YOUR FUCKING BRAIN AND SAVE YOURSELF THE PAIN.

"DEATH OF A RELATIONSHIP" . . . . THE FINAL BELL TOLLS FOR MY BELSTAFF 'TRIALMASTER', IT'S BEEN IN MY POSSESSION SINCE 1990 WHEN I WAS GIVEN IT AS A HAND-ME-DOWN BY A MUCH OLDER BUDDY . . . . GREASY, WAXY, DIRTY, SMELLY, FRAYED, BATTERED AND TOTALLY, ABSOLUTELY WATERPROOF, WINDPROOF AND FUNCTIONAL . . . . SO SAY WHAT YOU WILL, 'FLANNEL HARDCORE', THIS HAS FUCK ALL TO DO WITH WILL SMITH OR BRAD PITT !!!!

The old Trialmaster was bought new by Greg in 1975, so by the time he gave it to me it had been broken in and then some, by his own admission, it had never been re-waxed so it was a tad dried out, I spent eight hours reapplying beeswax one night with my mum's hairdryer about a week after he donated it to me and then had it done once more about five years ago by a professional . . . . apart from a couple of holes and tears which I had the same fella patch with waxed leather, it has proven an invaluable tool over the course of the nearly quarter of a century since it became mine, the only reason it's now been superceded by a new variation is I've become way too obese to fit something that was only ever an official size below my usual extra large requirements, but for twenty plus years it was the epitome of form and function being inextricably intertwined . . . . I don't want to wear some dayglo, Thinsulate lined, breathable, nylon microfibre, flash branded jumpsuit, I just want to wear a proven, long lasting, weatherproof jacket that does what it is supposed to, and that is simply to keep the fucking weather out.

Belstaff has now become a heavily fashion focused brand made in Italy, it's been seen on all the Hollywood elite over the last eight years and more and has also become the victim of being designated a hipster item along with Red Wings, Vans, CT's and a hundred other 'brands' that are now common as muck . . . . as for that, I don't give a shit, if something's inherently good and performs its designated task without fail, just because the Fashion Police, who have never actually owned one in most cases, deem it unhip and uncool ain't no reason not to own it . . . . however, when the price triples and the real purpose gets relegated to second level importance over style, then they can fuck off, and that's what's befallen the once brilliant Belstaff brand, it's not that Smith, Pitt, Cruise and McGregor are poncing about in them and every old Pommy bike owner is wearing one, even if it's an Asian rip-off, it's just they are now a shadow of their former self . . . . so, after much soul searching and equivocating over the last year, I've jumped ship for something else a little more honest and still made in the U.K and have consigned the dear old dirty friend to the closet which, after thousands of miles and megalitres of rain, dirt and foul weather is pretty bloody sad . . . . fare thee well old son, it's been a grand journey, you'll be gone but not forgotten.