Once a year there is a Brit Bike night at The Worlds End pub near Taunton/
Last year it blew me away with the diverse bikes and the unusually very cool and friendly people ,It was full of folks that had come strait from there sheds and where still wearing overalls or oily, greasy ripped jeans, no gortex dessert, Charley Boarman style bollox in sight.
So this year i lept astride my trusty Trumpet and met Steve, on his Bantam.
We had a lovely ride up there then Steve broke down,. We pulled over on the side of the road and after figureing out that it was fuel starvation we started stripping the fuel line and carb down . but all we had was a 13mm spanner and a screwdriver.
Luckily a load of bods on Matchlesses and suchlike stopped to give us help, then a fella in acar stopped then a nice police lady stopped to tell us that we were causing a dangeros Danger type thing , and that we should move as we were being stoopid twats.
Luckily we got Steve sorted and made it to the pub.
Unfortunatly it didnt have the same hardcore group of grungy bike builders that were there last year. Infact at about 8pm, 3 drops of rain fell from the sky. All of a sudden 75% of the people there jumped on there bikes and rode home scared that a bit of water may damage their old bikes (i'm sure that it used to rain back in the day when these bikes were the only thing that a bloke had to ride to work all week then put on a side car take the Mr's for a picknick on Saturday then race on Sunday, didnt mind a bit of water)
I got home at 12.30 worked all the next day then drove to Bristol to help out at the grand opening of an art gallery till late. Fuck i was so knackerd.
Me and Steve had agreat night at the bike doo though, it reminded me of being 16 the way he was bent over his tank trying desperatly to reach 50MPH i was grinning like an idiot all the way there.