Monday, 19 January 2015
Thursday, 2 January 2014
Sunday, 22 December 2013
Sunday, 3 March 2013
Gavs word.
A good friend wrote this to me. He's a Smooth mother fucker.
Tim it's morning here! 7am outside is bleak and windy, the trees dance outside my windows like Russian jesters obeying a master. It's been ten years and maybe more since I first left the shores of Britain to seek a different path! It's difficult to know if we are ever making the right choice? It's hard to predict the future or to see what could have been or what still might be! Just as long as we stay friends, no matter the distance, then that's good enough for me! Just thought I'd let you know. X have a cool night! Love the one you're with! X
Tim it's morning here! 7am outside is bleak and windy, the trees dance outside my windows like Russian jesters obeying a master. It's been ten years and maybe more since I first left the shores of Britain to seek a different path! It's difficult to know if we are ever making the right choice? It's hard to predict the future or to see what could have been or what still might be! Just as long as we stay friends, no matter the distance, then that's good enough for me! Just thought I'd let you know. X have a cool night! Love the one you're with! X
Friday, 22 February 2013
Monday, 17 December 2012
Thursday, 11 October 2012
Friday, 5 October 2012
Thursday, 26 July 2012
Wednesday, 25 July 2012
From this to this? The SR250 saga begins.
First ride tonight runs like a hot bag of spanners and noticed some oily spots on entire engine. number plate fell off and smashed and front brake would not stop a mouse on a roller skate. That all said... I rather enjoyed myself!
Sunday, 22 July 2012
Latest assignment. Yamaha 250 SR
Picking up the 1981 black panther this week it's going to get stripped. 
Monday, 9 July 2012
Friday, 6 July 2012
Poem from a hero a legend of our time.
Collect Telegram from a Mad Dog
by Hunter S. Thompson
Not being a poet, and drunk as well,
leaning into the diner and dawn
and hearing a juke box mockery of some better
human sound
I wanted rhetoric
but could only howl the rotten truth
Norman Luboff
should have his nuts ripped off with a plastic fork.
Then howled around like a man with the
final angst,
not knowing what I wanted there
Probably the waitress, bend her double
like a safety pin,
Deposit the mad seed before they
tie off my tubes
. . .
Suddenly a man with wild eyes rushed
out from the wooden toilet
Foam on his face and waving a razor
like a flag, shouting
. . .
We'll take our vengeance now!
. . .
We rang for Luboff
on the pay phone, but there was
no contact
. . .
Get a Lawyer, I said. These swine have gone
far enough.
Now is the time to
lay a writ on them,
Cease and Desist
. . .
The legal man agreed
We had a case and indeed a duty to
Right these Wrongs, as it were
The Price would be four thousand in front and
ten for the nut.
I wrote him a check on the Sawtooth
National Bank,
but he hooted at it
While rubbing a special oil on
his palms
To keep the chancres from itching
beyond endurance
On this Sabbath.
. . .
Later, from jail
I sent a brace of telegrams
to the right people,
explaining my position.
October 13, 1965
by Hunter S. Thompson
Not being a poet, and drunk as well,
leaning into the diner and dawn
and hearing a juke box mockery of some better
human sound
I wanted rhetoric
but could only howl the rotten truth
Norman Luboff
should have his nuts ripped off with a plastic fork.
Then howled around like a man with the
final angst,
not knowing what I wanted there
Probably the waitress, bend her double
like a safety pin,
Deposit the mad seed before they
tie off my tubes
. . .
Suddenly a man with wild eyes rushed
out from the wooden toilet
Foam on his face and waving a razor
like a flag, shouting
. . .
We'll take our vengeance now!
. . .
We rang for Luboff
on the pay phone, but there was
no contact
. . .
Get a Lawyer, I said. These swine have gone
far enough.
Now is the time to
lay a writ on them,
Cease and Desist
. . .
The legal man agreed
We had a case and indeed a duty to
Right these Wrongs, as it were
The Price would be four thousand in front and
ten for the nut.
I wrote him a check on the Sawtooth
National Bank,
but he hooted at it
While rubbing a special oil on
his palms
To keep the chancres from itching
beyond endurance
On this Sabbath.
. . .
Later, from jail
I sent a brace of telegrams
to the right people,
explaining my position.
October 13, 1965
Wednesday, 27 June 2012
Tuesday, 26 June 2012
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