Identity parade

Yes, I like Stone Temple Pilots. No, this is not their merchandise. Yes, it is the engine treatment product. No, I don't actually use it.

It's been a long time since I retired a t-shirt. That's how long it takes. I've just had a massive t-shirt folding session to get them off the floor and came across this old favourite... again. Every time we meet I know I will never wear it again. It's completely yellow and not in a good way. Looks really grimy. Be brave fella, take it out to the shed and consign it to the t-shirt graveyard.

ISDT

I didn't sign up for the ISDT Centenary ride in the end, I just didn't have the spare cash at the time. I had visions of riding my Harley off-road for a good distance but I think, in the end, it was only the enduro bikes that did that. All others went on tarmac swathed in cloaks of hi-visibility. Information was a bit sketchy both before and during the event; even the riders didn't seem to know any information beyond their own class. But they all looked like they were having a hoot.

We got to the Filling Station at around noon, expecting the first riders to turn up shortly but, as always with older machines, time is a relative thing. As you would expect from the ISDT a fairly steady stream of mostly enduro machine arrived and settled in to a pasty and chip lunch. Once lunch had settled they were quickly off again to go around Lorton and Buttermere. Fortunately I had the pleasure of riding that loop two weeks ago albeit with a stinking hang-over after the Iron Ore Rally. On the way home we had our own little ISDT; taking the long route through the Caldbeck and Mungrisedale commons. Andy flings his little AJS around like its an RD250.

I was down at the sun-drenched Ace Cafe the week previously for a classics day and I have to say that we had more classics at the Filling Station and we weren't far adrift of the total amount of bikes present. The food is still of the highest standard and the crack is always good. It is a source of great pleasure to me to have such a great biker specific cafe on my doorstep and to know that it is not only surviving but thriving. Keep up the good work.

Stolen bike in a small world.

The old Harley world is a very small world so this is likely to turn up sooner or later. Direct repost from Benny Boneshaker:

Some scumbag has just stolen my mates ironhead chopper, It was taken some time today from Port Dundas in Glasgow, Scotland, it's a 79 sporty with a weld on hardtail, repop springers, please can you repost this where ever you are, even if you are not in the U.K people here still read your blogs, if you get offered this bike or any part of it please contact me on 07913325297. We want it back

Midnight

Summer streets at night,
After the haze of a band,
My shit is perfect.

Songs in the key of beer

Last night as we played some excellent old-timey music my Closedmondays bottle opener had its first use as I'd forgotten my bottle opener comb and Leatherman micro multi-tool. I thought I had too many bottle openers til I saw my mates flip-flip bottle opener- I kid you not, flip-flops with a bottle opener in the middle of the sole. It's a neat gimmick but I prefer mine attached to my keys for hygiene reasons. I'm looking forward to my new wallet once I've saved up enough pocket money. Get stitching Gav.

Cake

I don't generally 'bro' people easily so when I say these people are family it means that they are some of the best people I know, not just ride with. So much so that I scraped myself off my sick-bed and drove 5 hours to London, endured the cheery banter of the multicultural Underground system to go to Jake and Dixies joint birthday. Joint with Ian who it was a pleasure to meet for the first time. The hugs turned to chatter which turned to drinking which turned to dancing which ended in lunacy.

It was nice that they personalised the toilet doors for the Mean Fuckers. Either that or it was a vague reference to gender.

The cake was amazing and the beer was copious- even at Camden prices. I didn't feel too bad til the next day, sat in the Ace Cafe feeling woozy. I took a very abstract photo of the shadow of the back wheel of a lovely Indian. Lets face it, in a shit way, it's quite good.

Japanese

Today's puzzle: how to make a vacuum petrol tap work from its constituent parts. It's been a long time since I've had to think in Japanese but I think I did it.

Killing in the name of...

Song 2, Gay Bar, War Pigs- slowly I got hooked and reeled in by the band. The Iron Ore Rally crack was good, meeting old pals and new. I won a prize for my bike being over 25 years old which I would have probably given to the CBX which is also well over that age. I heard from several sources that Johnnys chop has landed in safe hands and is getting the care it deserves. (Johnny won that prize last time we were here and he is still remembered fondly)

What I'll never understand is how you can meet someone when you're sober and yet still doubt that you remember the name correctly- Kev with the brown 'flake shovel forgive me if I've got your name wrong. And yet every sordid details of a Scotsmans wild drug fuelled sex romp told to me while I could barely stand will be burned into my mind forever.