Death of a Queen

Shocking news indeed, I'm so grief stricken and incensed that these few lines may well appear rambling and distracted - I make no apology for this. My local, and possibly one of the finest public houses in the country, has bitten the dust. What makes me so angry is that this disaster was avoidable (and yet inevitable - somewhat like a train crash viewed in slow motion). Unfortunately the sentiments expressed here are coming from the same "less is more" mantra that my regular readers will recognise. I have reviewed the pub in question many times on these pages - a slightly grumpy landlord who was passionate about beer, he provided his own game for the table, butchered his own meat - as evidenced by the sprinkling of sawdust often found to be soaking up blood outside the kitchen door. All this was going on in an atmosphere of dimly lit, relaxed gastronomic indulgence. Look - I could go on about how good the pub was for ages but poor Geoff was exhausted after seven or eight years and ended up having to pass the baton to a new runner - what an effing disaster. I am siting the pub in question (some of you will know where I mean) as the most spectacular example of how to completely ruin a good thing. My gut feeling is the new leaseholder has seen an opportunity and thought he could do with a bit of the action. Instead of leaving well alone he's tried something new !!! I was taken for dinner a few weeks ago by some friends from The States - breathtakingly embarrassing experience - it actually makes me want to cry to think of it - the bloody fire wasn't even lit and we had to take the "energy saving" light bulbs out of their fittings to reduce the glare. I'll tell you just how bad this is - on Saturday some blind, stupid and uncaring car driver pulled out in front of me whilst out on the XT, I hit him pretty hard and took a trip over the roof, smacking the tarmac on all fours on the other side. Removing my helmet, calmly clutching a fast swelling wrist whilst dripping blood all over the place I told him how it really is: " that's nothing - you should see what they've done to my bloody local !". Actually I'm incapable of writing any more just now and will continue in a calmer frame of mind another day. Sorry. MORE DISASTER !

Trials & Tribulations

Sadly this TY (my son's bike) was stolen a few months ago, demonstrating that motorcycle ownership has it's bad moments. I started riding bikes when I was about 11 - my first expedition being a helmet-less trip on a step-thru C90 along the Fosse in the Cotswolds, brought to a swift end by the intervention of the law ( Morris Minor panda I recall). My own son started at the age of four with a QR 50 and then progressed onto the TY above. I'm sure the TY must have been a killer for Yamaha because it was so beautifully made, and although it sold in huge quantities from '74 to '84 can't have made them a lot of money. Since my introduction to the joys of two wheeled motorised transport I have ridden, owned, borrowed, crashed, been frightened by and enjoyed a vast range of machines (more to appear on these pages). I have, for many years, been under the mistaken impression that, for motorcycling heaven to be complete, one would need at-least three machines: 1. For crashing about in the fields, woods, quarries and occasional blats on the tarmac ( this bike to remain covered in mud and to be, cosmetically, a disaster but kept in tip-top mechanical fettle. ) 2. An excessively powerful, exquisitely handling, massively braked, howlingly exhausted all-out sports bike for pure adrenalin filled, knife-edge weekend riding and track days (probably Italian). 3. Big fat comfy, torquey, lazy slob machine for taking in the scenery, long jaunts around Europe and short trips to the news agents to pick up motorcycle comics. Well then - imagine my shock when I suddenly realised that all this was complete bollox. I've been without a bike for over three years now and suffer badly as a result. I've come to the conclusion that the thing holding me back has been the search for the ideal compromise machine ! Disaster, what folly - fortunately I hang out with some people who make sense and I have had it spelled out to me quite clearly that "any bike is better than none " - well of course it is - and how the bloody hell did I miss that one ? By lowering my sights, expectations, vanity threshold, bike snobbery visor and budget I have settled on the perfect solution - a hundred quid's worth of bits that may even yield two complete bikes at a push, conveniently located at the far end of the country in a shed. I'll let you know how it all goes on these pages. MORE PROBLEMS !