Yet More Proof ........

.....if it were needed, that A: less is more, and B: the world throws up delights where cynics would have you doubt it. New crash helmet arrived in the post this morning. Ever since my vintage '60s Everoak got run over by a truck I've been without a satisfactory open-face helmet. Modern-spec gear leaves a protective layer so thick (almost 2 inches !!)that a size 59 helmet will have an o/c of around 860mm or 34 inches !!!!. Several problems here - you end up looking like some weird Disney character with an over-size bonce, goggles don't fit, fuel consumption goes haywire and you're in grave danger of being taken for more brainy than you really are by the cops when they pull you over (that's not good if you're trying to play dumb). I run a sweet pair of Bolle Chrokadesi goggles as preferred by special forces and other tough people, these simply won't sit with your average euro-spec lid. Having spotted a "slim-line" open-facer in the motosickle press I set about trying to establish where it came from. The marvelous e-bay turned up the goods, £39.99 and 10 days later a brand new lid arrived at my door. Considerably less: less weight, less than an inch thick, less protection, less drag. Even more: more comfort, more goggle friendly, more normal, more gas-mileage. This thing is perfect, it accommodates my Chrokadesi bins and appeases my vanity. Quite how useful as a spill deflector is questionable, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. MORE SENSE !

Going Underground

Diplo Jnr's Easter holiday project was to start the well. Every garden should have one. 6' o/d and 4'6" i/d currently 6' deep. The last 4 feet are in solid rock. Sinking the brick liner is a thrill, as you pick away to under-mine the raft the steel cutting edge does its job and the whole chimney sinks gently into the ground. Nice and cool down there. MORE COMMON SENSE !

Post Script

Speechless. MORE FAT !

Easter Beef

As usual, very little to say about the meat. This is a chunk of the fore-rib from one of the top secret Short Horns. I'm not saying it's impossible to buy beef like this, of course you'll find something if you know where to look. The sense of well-being and satisfaction derived from the dainty slices I had last night is priceless, very few words were spoken at the table but discernible whimpers and sighs were detected.
It is very difficult to avoid having a slice too many and a brisk stroll round the block after supper has to be a good idea - more reflection time. The much heralded change in the weather was evident early evening and the sky was demonstrating its "no-sunshine-for-you-tomorrow" look. There was an atmosphere of resigned depression drifting from the gardens of Diploville as sunbeds were being folded, paddling pools emptied and the all-too-shiny gaz barbies were being driven to safety. The capacity of our particular climate to bring us such changes should be embraced and we could save ourselves a lot of bother by not cluttering up our lives with all the accoutrements to turn our gardens into holiday camps. How about - when the sun shines light a fire on the lawn to cook the steaks, lie on the grass in the sun and when it gets a bit hot nip inside to roll around in a cold bath or move under a tree for a minute. When the weather turns in a few days simply move back into the house and shut the door to the garden. MORE WEATHER !

Size Matters. No 2

The local Shit-Bike Club is developing at a gentle, relaxed pace. The ZZR featured here is a member and only eligible because it comes from an earlier time ('91) and is cosmetically challenged. Mechanically it is far from shit and has been lovingly cared for and neglected in equal measure by its previous custodians for many years. Like most bikes it has provided joy and disappointment, excitement and frustration (again in equal measure) over its life. As can be seen it is considerably larger than the CB Special and produces somewhere in the region of ten times the power - that's development for you because it's only five and half times the displacement. Simply put - size does matter. I went to the coast last weekend, two up, in great comfort, at a reasonable pace and was just as happy to get my leg over for the return journey - I can honestly say I'd struggle to be so enthusiastic about the same trip on the CB Special. The Diplo bike collection is an orphanage by the way, the CB was almost free, Diplo Jnrs XT was free and the ZZR is adopted, it still belongs to a fellow member of the SBC but he simply doesn't have room in his garage (or his heart ?) for this '90s behemoth. MORE FOSTER CARE !

Job Done......

.........sort of ! Two major issues - "occupation" !!!! response probably more aspirational than actual. Secondly the envelope won't fit in the Diploville post box, I had to fold it in half and there was a lot of tearing going on as we negotiated some crafty GPO (sic) anti-theft rat-trap device installed in the jaws. I would like to take this opportunity to wish the statisticians the very best of luck in their attempts to make any useful sense of the whole sorry business. MORE PRIVACY !

Paint Job Profile

The CB Special is one of the founder members of my local Shit-Bike Club, it meets all the criteria for membership, being both shit and a bike. I have mentioned in earlier posts on the CB that it has endeared itself to me in a sort of misfit, ugly duckling kind of way. Now that it is running properly and getting used regularly for local commutes and short-range expeditions it has found itself a bigger audience. It seems that wherever it is parked it draws a crowd of sympathetic observers - maybe they are merely kind-hearted souls plotting a way to put it out of its misery. I have determined that the bike's pulling power is in its patina, most appealingly demonstrated in the original '72 paintwork of the gas tank. It came to my attention caught in the sunlight the other day, emphasised by the fact that the sloppy side-stand allows the parked machine to settle almost horizontal at the kerb showing off its best side to passing pedestrians. MORE WEAR & TEAR !