Images from the Isle of Man TT 2015

Some images from the Isle of Man TT fortnight 2015

The mighty Norton at Ramsey Hairpin

Dan Cooper givin' it beans off Ramsey Hairpin

Going for a tearoff at Ramsey Hairpin

Guillimot Towers at the Chasms

Wayne Lockey and Mark Sayers firing it out of Gooseneck

Guy Martin, Smiths Triumph, Gooseneck

TT legend John 'make mine a McPint' McGuiness

Sunset over Peel

Bruce in full concentration mode at Brandywell

Dan from hometown Stroud doin' his thang

Michael Dunlop having a bad week by his very high standards.

Jenny Tinmouth from BSB doing a panorama or her phone and yes I did wave!

Starting em young

David Johnson, Smiths Trumpet

Michael Rutter at Barragarrow or Gary Barlow as we call it.

John from Aussieland trying my SV for size

Glen Vine Massiff

Freight train arrives at Ballacrye

Klaus and Graham critiquing the racing lines

Gary Knight's beautifully prepared outfit

Evening practice at the start line

Views toward the Calf

Smiths Triumph negotiating Ballacraine with Dave Johnson onboard

Hutchy on his way to three wins in one week

Prescott Bike Festival 2015

On arrival at the Prescott Hill Climb venue the genteel splendour of an exclusive golf club is brought to mind. The events at the Prescott Bike Festival however were far from genteel when an invasion of greasy bikers invaded this hallowed spot. Ok I'm exaggerating, your average latter day rocker has much more in common with the golfing set than with the cafe inhabiting leatherbacks of the 60s. The Bugatti Owners Club (UK) have owned the hill climb site since 1937. At that time Bugattis were cutting edge technology. The current club president, Earl Howe, was active at the very beginning and is no doubt still running his Type 57 up the hill on occasions.

The attendant crop of motorsports enthusiasts on this day were running a huge variety of of machinery. Classics, homebuilds, modern exotica and bikes seemingly dragged from the back of a very dark shed. The combatants took to the line in turn and on a signal from the starter fired their chosen machine away and up the hill. I must say that the height of starting drama varied somewhat, there were those that given the signal to procede seemed reluctant to move. After proper consideration they lurched off the line at a pace more suited to a nice Sunday ride out. At one stage the occasionally expectant crowd became aware of the whine of what sounded suspiciously like a jet turbine. Seeing nothing skywards attention was refocused on a billowing cloud engulfing the start line. Emerging from the centre of this cloud was a jet powered bike.

Didn't yer mum say smokin's bad for you

The day meanered on, the peace of the cotswold countryside being interrupted by the wailing, thudding, chugging, popping and banging of machinery being coaxed up the hill. Some made it in style. some experienced the ignomy of defeat and many others had a grand day out. 

5 litre madness from Alan Millyard

None of the runs were timed, it was purely an opportunity to thrash your chosen steed along a short piece of obstacle free tarmac, just for the fun of it. A refreshingly rule free event enjoyed in pleasant like minded company and attended by warm, early spring sunshine.

Nervous anticipation in the collecting area

Cunning stunts from Dave Coates

Zef Eisenberg's turbine powered Madmax

My favourite Tony Hudson's replica RC163

Thoroughly recommended

Suzuki DR200

Noun djebel
(In the Middle East and North Africa) a mountain or hill or range of hills.

This is my hack about bike. I needed something that I could park in my front garden. This involves riding the bike up half a dozen steps as there is no normal vehicle access. I couldn't see any way of manhandling my quarter ton SV1000 over such an obstacle and the bonus is I don't have to clean it after every ride, just cover and forget.

The ownership of this little gem reminded me of my riding from an earlier age. Low power, forgiving nature and endless fun. I can flog this minibeast without the fear of endangering my license. As I said to a fellow biker mate, you would have to work really hard to get into any sort of difficulty with it.

I recently got back after a ride feeling the rear end was a little more lively than usual I gave the rear tyre a kick. The spongy reaction told me all I needed to know, the pressure barely registered on the air gauge.

If I wring every ounce of power from the little single I am rewarded with a max of 90 on the speedo. Now this sounds really impressive until I reveal that the speedo records km/h, this being a European import.

If you feel a little jaded and over stressed with your current biking try buying a cheap runabout and return to the thrill of riding a bike up to it's limitations rather riding one up to your limitations.

Different Strokes

2 strokes

There must be many bikers, these days, who have never ridden a 2 stroke powered machine. I pity those poor souls. I started my motorcycle life on a underpowered 2 stroke moped and I could not recommend that particular abomination to anyone. In later life however I did get my hands on many more exciting smokers. The thing about 2Ts is that they are extremely simple with only about three moving engine parts, when designed correctly they are excellent fun. The power delivery is unique requiring the rider to fully engage in order to extract the maximum from their ride.The powerband is small, impossibly tiny, covering a couple of thousand revs. You have to concentrate. Being in the wrong gear will deliver the performance of an asthmatic snail get it right and you will be rewarded with an exhilarating roller coaster ride. Select first, build the revs, drop the clutch and take off like the proverbial scolded cat. Don't relax, a nano second later you're grabbing another gear, no clutch, slight pressure on the gear lever, slam the throttle shut and immediately grab another handful as the gear snicks into place. Repeat this pattern until you run out of gears, road or talent.

Until relatively recently all GP bikes were 2 strokes, they were basically banned for being a polluting health hazard. They were a health hazard alright but mostly to their riders, this was due to the on/off nature of their power delivery. Get your timing wrong and the bike would viciously spit you off into the scenery with absolutely no warning. Most racers seemed to love them and hate them in equal measure. They were highly strung and so were the bikes.

So when you hear some ageing racer banging on about how difficult these beast were to ride don't take the piss out of the old fart. He's lucky to be alive.

Accidents

Collins Concise English Dictionary
 1. a happening that is not expected, forseen or intended
 2. unintended happining that results in injury, loss, etc
 3. chance meet by accident
 4. an attribute that is not essential


I believe that whilst motorcyclist do not actively seek physical encounters with other road users, roadside furniture or parts of the scenery they accept them, as integral part of the activity they choose. A close encounter with one of the above is, at some time, an inevitable part of the hobby. I would go further, pain is an intrinsic part of the bikers experience there seems to be a perverse enjoyment of adversity inherent in their activity. Even without an accident the average biker will experience some level of pain on most excursions. Surely then minimum one can expect following a ride is a sore arse. Therfore when an accident comes it is accepted as the motorcyclist's due, the ensuing scars a badge of honour.

Now I must admit that I have had a few unplanned dismounts in my time. I would like it on the record however that none of them, NONE of them, were my fault officer. I high proportion of them were as a pillion, some were due to blind or stupid motorists, others caused by poor road design or maintenance, mechanical failures, acts of god..........the list goes on. In an imperfect world the motorcyclist approaches the perfection of the gods themselves and is therefore blameless. I am not bragging when I say that I am probably the best road user there has ever been and by definition no accident could have ever been my fault.

Sorry got a bit carried away there but you take my point.

So next time you get punted off by some blind octogenarium or a Darwinium obsessed marsupial, or the wrong type of leaves on the road, rise serenely above it in the certain knowledge that your downfall was brought on by a lesser organism. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off an ride on (paramedics permitting).

Get yer kit off you pulled!

Knee sliders? Surely for most bikers a needless accessory. Of course in my youth the concept of getting your knee down didn't exist. Racers were beginning to hang off the bike but tyre technology wouldn't permit the lean angles achievable now. In those days if I got my knee down it was rapidly followed by my arse, head and other delicate parts of my anatomy. Which brings me to................


Clothing (biker fashion).
Ok hands up, who wore a waxed jacket back in the day? Did you consider yourself fashionable, trendy, atractive to women? If you thought any of those things I am here to tell you you are delusional. In fact all specialist clothing available to bikers was designed to render the wearer an outcast. Even the now chic leather jacket was subverted by the Hells Angel set, if it wasn't distressed, dirty and pungent it wasn't for the likes of us purist bikers. Most bikers of my vintage rode their bikes in all weathers. The roads were more polluted and infrequently cleaned. Bike maintenance was performed in a 'just in time', 'side of the road' way meaning the jacket performed as an oily rag in times of extremis. My waxed jacket was never, ever cleaned, there was no way of cleaning it that did not threaten to destroy it's meagre water repellant properties. The outcome of this low maintenance regime, resulted in a garment that would provide a very productive archeological dig, it would not however attract women.

Steve proving that even desirable men look shit in biking gear.

This is how it all began.

My first bike

Take a bycicle and add a new fangled internal combustion engine to it and the motorcycle is born. Fast forward about 100 years and behold the Philips Panda. The Panda being a close relative to that original concept was little more than a bicycle with a small wheezing 2 stroke engine attached. However unlike a real live panda it was neither cute nor cuddly. I rode this inadequate contraption, through all weathers, over the handful of miles between my home and my place of work. It had a habit of dismembering it's exhaust on route and I spent many a cold, dark winters morn scrabbling about trying to find some indespensible part of the silencers anatomy. A baffle here, wingnut over there, end cap in a hedge. Trying to reassemble the hot parts in the dark with my limited mechanical knowledge was a challenge one could happily exist without. It's hard to remember that, in these days of universal car ownership, a small motorcycle was seen as a viable means of everyday transport for several decades after the war.