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Written by Enzo "Del Fuego" Stoini
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| Dream Bikes
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Ok so there wasn't really too much going on newsworthy this week and a thread on a (car) forum I frequent got me thinking.. thanks Oldschool! I was thinking about your dream bike/s. If money and rarity were no object what bike or bikes would you ferret out and park in your garage to ride and to drool over. What would have you sitting in a comfy chair in the garage with a cuppa for a couple of hours just admiring it before taking it for a ride?
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Written by Enzo "Del Fuego" Stoini
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| Bones Heal! Track Time
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Somewhere, a Prius owner is crying into his soy latte; the pint sized track bike is finished, it runs, and it burns fossil fuels at a rate which causes a flow-on surge in oil supply and prices on the NASDAQ. It’s also quick. Not MotoGP quick, but quick enough to embarrass some very expensive Italian exotica (when they can get ‘em running).
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Written by Mad Bike Boy
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| The bucket list
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| The Bucket List
I mentioned in the 12 Step Programme that I have a bucket list. For those of you without cable access, or with your heads up your asses – a bucket list is a list of things that you need to do before you kick the bucket. (You know, pass on, croak, expire, feed the worms... die and decompose.)
I’ve done a lot of the stuff on my bucket list. I have been the subject of a police chase that involved a helicopter and roadblocks (dear mr plod, the motorcycle review has no idea who this man is, he has hacked our site and is randomly submitting articles... we don’t know how to delete them... honest! Ed.). Big tick there.
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| This is going to make no sense unless you read "The Liter High" (click here for that one). Well, there is no guarantee that it will make sense even if you read all my random, potentially steaming ramblings. My friends (if I can call my therapist and my parole officer friends) told me to apologise to you all for making you read such a load of shit.
Back to the point. Projects are an essential part of dreaming. They let you escape to that happy place, the dark recess of your mind that keeps you sane during the normal day to day grind that passes for semi-normality. Let’s face it, the only person who really loves his job is Ron Jeremy, and what’s the bet he gets home to his wife, and then instead of taking her to bed for some loving (he probably gets tired after a long day of pounding? Ed.), he heads out to his garage and grabs a beer while looking at his project bike.
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If reading stuff that is borderline racist makes you feel uncomfortable turn away before you wet your panty liners, perhaps you should reach for your copy of “how to be a man”.
The French are useless, cheese eating surrender monkeys. Their restaurants are shit, and reasonably expensive, unless you go somewhere where there are Michelin stars (not the same as the Michelin Man), then it’s fucking great, and stupidly expensive. They have only two redeeming features that I can see. One is the hot women. Hot, because they smoke the whole time (instead of eating),
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