Could this be better than sex?

Seen at a petrol garage on the M1.......lust lust lust!

The answer, I suspect, is a resounding Yes.

For one thing (and to quote and old British Bike magazine columnist)...The most contentious thing you'll have to put up with is oil in the morning coffee or cold fenders in bed. Ideal for those of us tired of fractious relationships (well that leaves me out!). You just tuck her up for the night in her own room (or outside in the cold) and ride her when you get the urge. Ok, I know this smacks of old world sexist impropriety, but if one can have a bike on the side that gets you to work much faster than anything else then you can honestly spend more value time with your flesh and blood partner in crime/lover/friend/companion/father/husband to your flesh and blood/girlfriend/partner/wife/lover/bumchum/travelling companion/housemate.

What made me consider these thoughts again was the purchase of a British Bike magazine. In the old days when the CNA was not a dyslexic political party and the 'West Street Willies' ruled the streets of Durban on their Trumps and Beezers, a small crew of avid bikers worshipped a demigod named 'Ogri'.
So blow me down, there I am in a Crouch End corner caff, reading the latest Ogri and Malcolm cartoon. SO, with little or no respect for copyright, I take the liberty of reproducing it for my good mates in SA.....for old time's sake.
Meantime I got another great idea...sparked by the smalls section in the Bike mag.


Perusing the prices of classic and veteran bikes here and have found the price of bikes generally MUCH cheaper here, especially bikes older than 20yrs, eg BMW R80s etc. If a bike is over 20yrs old then the insurance is MUCH lower which is significant as insurance and reg is very high.

So, if I were to buy a good second hand bike in good nick set up for touring and leave it here, I could have really good holidays by just getting here and getting on the bike...Europe etc etc.

Nuff sed and remember that you never go into the unknown for what you know beforehand.

The High Road to Heaven

Kan jy dit glo! Hier is ek weer Engeland se kant. En ons is geskok om the vind dat die blerrie Engelse nog steed in beheer is!

SO, just when I thought that Durbs to Nairobi was a commute, I slip my mobile bum into a restaurant on wings and fly Virgin to Heathrow.
Reason? Well, I needed some well-earned restitution after spending 4 weeks on my Stevie film. For those of you not up to date, see 'you-tube'...

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGmn5jOFdc4) for part 1 of 3.

Denise (Steve's wife) picked us at the airport (that's Kenyan for 'picked up') and by the morning of the 15th we had reconnected as any good Jewish/gentile family can.
My first moment was arriving at 127 Stapleton Hall rd to find a front entrance devoid of any large yellow/red motorcycles. Happily we were to find them later..
When Steve died he gave his trusty Triumph (which served me well on a few occasions) to Callum, a living late 40s legend. The yellow Aprillia was bought by, Ashley, another good old friend and the much adored Honda Firestorm is waiting for son Joe to get the required adrenalin rush to fire her up again.
En route to the Waltham Abbey Jewish cemetery we stopped off at Steve's favourite Sunday Joll - High Beach, home of Battenberg cakes and tea. My blood temperature raised a notch and my fingers curled around an imaginary throttle as leather embossed biker after biker arrived as only the British biker can. Yet it transcends the English identity as a museum of modern technology. Buell's, which are Harleys on steroids and Harleys, which are Buells on Diazapam lean seductively against their owners, whose bodies are all clad strong and beautiful. (make mental note to find my copy of 'The Leather Boys' and show it to the lads back home).

Then off around the bend to where Steve is now making an impression on all those around him in the form of a bright red tombstone.

The story goes that Denise had an on-the-money Bruce Springsteen quote but it was frowned upon by the powers that be.....anyway, there are other ways...

Then back to leefy-laned Haringay for a feast of biblical magnitude and....my film.

Judging by the audience response this could be the second best movie I have made after my Sarah flick....so, with that in mind I decided to pay myself for the job and so I am now eagerly awaiting several boxes of Flight Simulation Hardware to arrive at the front door.
At the end of the day, Life for most of us starts to creep back to a tick-tock normality. For Steve's family, we hope the healing grows and the sadness turns in time, to an inward smile. Around us the world goes back to its eternal cycling of events as a new generation of two wheelers hit the horizon........and a young Joe Sack catches my eye for a moment as a reflection of the Steve I knew so long ago in Durban.....days of 50s and long hippy hair.
Meanwhile, Ida is hard at work at her Internews responsibilities while I am coming to terms with the true meaning of Broadband Internet. (i.e. what takes me 2 hours to download in Nairobi comes in at 3 minutes here.

Nuff sed! Now let's hit little Turkey for some local flavour. Green Lane, here we come!