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Discussion in 'Airheads' started by planktonnn, Aug 25, 2009.
Bol d'Or ran this weekend...
Wondering how to build a Cafe Racer? Just follow the step by step guide!?!
Zo, the insurance dox finally arrived after having been posted out on the 13th. This means they've now been submitted (pics of schedule & cert) to the parking permit site, and I can take them to the post office to renew the tax/MOT historic exemption, which is due the end of the month.
Edit: Historic (zero £) tax just done with V112 MOT exemption form.
Edit: Oooh, residents parking permit just came thru/ough as validated.
But it also means I have a physical copy of the insurance in hand, as being somewhat limited by my low level PAYG mobile setup I can't really function with electronic versions. I guess, mainly, I'm just a stick in the mud...
Looks like a GO then.
Ooh, really rather cheezy. The 1st one's ok, but the one with the Invisible Horse... Oh dear.
This short vid of Ralph Waldmann making the most of the right tyre/ires is always worth the time, if it'll play in ur region...
That's almost as bright as your suit
The DMW in drag?
Did the Dmw survive the night???
Well, yes. It's all a bit embarrassing really, but the idea is that the utility of visibility, in this case, trumps taste
Yuh huh. The stats seem to point towards a cover discouraging the tamperers. But really I'm using it because I can hide under it & jump out on peeple, which won't at all get me shot, no, never, nuh-uh.
It's ok. I hid in the tree all night & played a recording of an angry mountain lion at anyone coming within twenty metres...
Zo, the task started with a cab (i.e. easier when in riding kit with bags) from The Mayfair Mansion to the mainline train, during which I was fed the almost caricatured opinions of the driver. Apparently the Polis are 'snowflakes' for not dragging the M25 protestors into the path of lorries, and they can't because of H&S; the biggest threat to post Brexit Grate Brittun is communism (tho/ough he couldn't define what that word meant); his mate has a Hardly Drivensome which he won in a prize draw or whatever (I wasn't listening), and plentee other dumb babbles.
The train journey was nothing to speak of, zo fast forward to arriving at 'The Martha Farquar Pjcr12 Memorial Storage Facility', where I seemed to arrive just as The Caretaker was only just settling in to having got home from work. Delving into the storage shed he grabbed the DMW and hauled it up the incline to the drive like structure before I noticed what was going on. Not that I'd be a lot of assistance anywah.
Pulling out the contents of my rucksack I dug into fitting the 'new' mirrors. Not something I'd wanted as such, but a good addition given Ldn Driving. I thought I'd tightened them sufficiently, tho/ough later that proved not to be the case. Other tasks were completed, including checking the oil level, and I eventually set off on a short refresher-ride, and to top up the tank. Mindful that I'd not ridden a Motosickle in near 18 months I razzed it as soon as I got on the road. Not really. Yes I did. No I didn't.
The seemingly impending national peterol crisis had yet to kick in and on my first visit to a station in beyond ages I was pleased to note the Superfuel option (or whatever it was called) is still only E5. As I left a blokey-me-fella pulled 4 army surplus fuel cans from his boot & I think some bickering broke out. Anywah, the Motosickle behaved after such a period in storage so I was back off to base to sort my bags & make a break for the horizon, as if such a grande concept could be applied.
The things I'd dug out of my packing cases still at DBD's were crammed into rucksack & tankbag, and I made a move onto my modest 41 odd mile journey. Adjusting the mirrors as I went it soon became clear the right mirror stalk wasn't tight enough. 10 miles in I pulled over & dug a 13mm open end spanner (original BMW OEM toolkit item, £722 quid pounds on the Vintage market) from the tanktop storage & nipped it up. So far, so good. I wasn't dead & neither was the Motosickle.
Eventually & uneventfully I joined the A40 Westway on the inland edge of town & began to notice familiar tropes of multi-lane road riding. Middle lane hoggers, zoomy under-takers, variant speed limits, inattentive lane swappers. The usual stuff. Still, all pretty smooth so far. But it was at this point I nearly got taken out by a dumbass filtering scooter, careering up by me & wobbling over as if I weren't there. I stuck my leg out & they fekked off at which point I noted they were wearing flip flops...
Anywah, as I progressed into the metropolis along a main feed artery I'd driven a thousand times but not for maybe 15 years, I noticed the major proliferation of high rises that've sprouted up. It's all got a bit 'Megacity ½'. Once I'd got close to Baker Street tube traffic choked up and I swung a right down Baker St, all the way down across Oxfraud St, along the top of Grosvenor Sq just by the ole 'Murican embassy and into 'My Road'. The one thing I noticed, just as I'd expected to, was the dingburries just wandering out into the road & then looking offended as they were sworn at. Being dressed as a dayglo imbecile didn't seem to help much on the pedestrian front.
So there was a parking space out front. It wasn't ideal but it was there. I got the two chains rigged to the Motosickle, only setting the alarm off twice before I sorted out my ignition/chainkey arrangements to make things easier, and pondered the universe a short while whilst the engine cooled, before I got the cover on it. A couple of naybores came and poked their noses in, to which I gently pointed out that I have a permit, and they retired grumbling. Then I retired for a pint at the bar on the corner.
And so this long & desperately uninteresting saga concludes. But good grief do my riding muscles ache...
I'm informed I have a haemoglobin count of around 80 g/l against a healthy level of 140+ g/l. I can't say I'm bothered.
I was invited for a 'colonorectal' cam-exam, which I declined. I asked if it was VHS or Betamax...
In other 'news' the Motosickle alarm just went off. I was leaning out the window watching a bulky Jag squeezing out of the 'too small' space it'd squeezed its way into 5 minutes before, and after tapping the car behind him he went forward & touched the DMW. I reached to my right into the cabinet marked 'Kaboom', pulled out a bazooka & blasted him to his deserved destiny.
Motorworks as listed on eBay.
I can't say I can disagree at all with a commercial organisation responding to apparent market values, however it goes to demonstrate inflation: When I bought the donor for the DMW I paid £60 quid pounds inc. delivery. It could have been £50 (qp) but I gave a tenner over asking to say thanks for bothering.
The shatta-big-end block was handed off (I think to DBD maybe?) as it was simpler & cheaper at the time to stick in another, which cost £20 (qp). The R80 barrels/pistons/heads were donated to Pjcr12, as was the seat (which I kinda regret, but ho hum), and the rear light, mudfenderguard & rack, along with the front end (to be replaced with a K unit), + bars & clocks. We always got plentee back from each other in these swapsies. The gearbox & bevel (and I think the starter?) didn't come in the sale as they were desired/retained by Dave Spahn-Ermann & Ian-Dave Spahn-Ermann for their own extras pile. I got replacements/upgrades from Jake at South Coast Boxers (unfortunately now defunkt) along with top end/pistons, carbs and exhaust. I don't remember the numbers (qp) but it wasn't a lot to put it all together.
The point is that the donor came to me at a cost that was much more about a shared affection for the ole Beemers 'n' spannering, and much less about pretend aspirational monetarism as a measure of self worth. These peeple weren't looking to climb up over me by ripping me off, they were looking to set me running.
It's not about Motorworks. They're a commercial organisation. So maybe it's about the utha fekkas asking premium prices, like £1,600 quid pounds (+ 40 nikka for post) for an NOS R80 G/S Paris Dakar Heat Guard. I won't link to the specific seller of that little delight as, to be fair, I can't really judge that individuals circumstance or choices against my own value set. But you get the idea, huh? The more you look the more you find silly pricing...