Returning to normal. Slowly.

Things are getting there. Wendy tried to go back to work last week, but with the two bank holidays, and her being lethally contagious an’ all, they said leave it until this week.

She went back on Tuesday. She suffered a bout of the horrible weakness in the afternoon, but made it through the day. She was OK today. I’m more or less back to normal (it’s a relative benchmark). I had a dire headache all day yesterday, but that’s par for the course. I went back to work on the 1st of April, I walked across the yard, up a few steps, and was panting. A week later I did two short runs, both panting badly, but I did them. I was worried I might have got the lung damage associated with the plague, but today I ran again and my lungs were no more panty than you’d expect for an unfit, fat bloke.

The bug was the perfect storm. I was too poorly ill to run, or move much, and so weak I was constantly eating to try and give myself some energy. Today I pulled on my lycra running shorts and they squashed all my blubber up into a big tyre. That was my wake up call. No more sweet stuff, back to the running.

I decided to do a 10 mile run. Actually that was really stupid, they say to increase by a maximum of 10% per week, and I was utterly exhausted doing 6 miles last week. I was mortified by the blubber though. Also I was a little miffed at the self-appointed Twitter Police who monitor people’s activities through their exercise apps and get shouty about anyone exceeding the (advisory) hour per day of exercise. So I wanted to annoy them.

On the bright side, I managed to do the full 10 miles, I held my pace in under 9m/m (all in the 8s) even though it was hard work, and my lungs were fine, so no damage, hoorah!

Not so good is that as soon as I stopped it hit me like a train. But still, good effort, I’ve started on my weight loss and fitness revival, and hopefully incensed a few self-righteous sorts.


The supermarkets are returning to normal as well. They’ve still got the maximum occupancy thing going on, but if you pick the right time of day you can often get in without queuing. Once inside you can get virtually everything again.

As an aside, I saw some New Zealand store manger on the news (on Twitter) saying he’d just had his first hoarder trying to get a refund on 150 packs of 32 roll toilet papers and 100, 1 litre bottles of hand sanitiser. He was a bit miffed as they are the morons who have caused the empty supermarkets. He told the guy (I assume it was a bloke) where to go.


Something else that is looking to return to normal is my hours. I’ve been asking to go back to full time for about 6 weeks or so. This shift I’m on isn’t 4 on/ 4 off as I’d been lead to believe, and since we became swamped with drivers (absorbing our other companies who are basically dead due to lockdown shutting their customer’s businesses) I am struggling to get extra shifts as overtime. Anyway, inexplicably they’ve just advertised for 6 new drivers. I whinged to my manager, saying that if they’ve got work to employ new drivers they should give me my hours back first. She’s got back to me and said they were going to offer me full time again. Yay!

It’s not a done deal. It’s not until June, and I don’t know what rota or start time they are going to offer me, but at least I know they aren’t just snubbing me outright.


Things outside of our bubble, and control, are still awful.

The government’s “herd immunity”, “take it on the chin”, “loved ones will die” policy has lead to them releasing figures of about 1,000 dead per day, but the Office for National Statistics has been saying the figures are likely 80% higher.

Then there’s the economy. I read that lockdown is costing £2 billion a day and the IMF are stunned, they’ve never seen a recession so savage and there’s no clear way out of it. The thinking now is that the Tories are desperately looking for a way to change the narrative to get everyone back to work, and let the surplus population dying be the price we pay to restart the economy. They are already hinting that it’s going to be Austerity with a vengeance afterwards. The NHS privatisation is going on even through it’s hour of greatest need.

And don’t get me started on Bozo going into ICU for 3 days then, over Easter, miraculously walking out, doing a 5 minute speech without a gasp or a cough, then going to see his pregnant girlfriend at his second home.


So, nothing to look forward to in the wider field, but for us life goes on as normal. It is very odd.


Another thing, while I was off today I had another crack at fitting my new, lower, handlebars. I ordered a cheap second headlight fairing and I was going to cut it into shape, so they handlebars wouldn’t hit it.

Luckily I started the job by getting at the fairing that’s on it now (rather than fitting new handlebars first. It must be a fairing for a later model. It didn’t fit! I didn’t even know they were different.

So that was three screws out, take off the outer fairing, compare the old and new inner fairings, swear a bit, three screws in.

I’m going to do it if it kills me.


Other than that it’s just gardening. This is the year of the garden. Lockdown is forcing us to garden out of boredom, if nothing else.


My running Twitter account, apart from the self righteous crew, has been keeping spirits up. The exact opposite of my politics account. Let’s not go there.


Queeny made the rookie mistake of wearing a green-screen-able frock for some address in which she didn’t offer her £20 million a year to the NHS.


So Twitter went for it







Other cat news


There was news that cats could catch Covid-19


I was sad that it was all bad news on my politics account.


In animal related fun



The police got threaten-ey with more overreach.



People not happy about lockdown.





And after the morons burning down 5G masts because a radio wave “causes Covid-19”, someone helpfully explained the science.


And, of course, the Tango Hitler


Right, I’m off.

Stay safe people.

Recovery Phase

We are stubbornly refusing to die. I went back to work after 7 days off, following the ‘herd immunity’ government policy. I’m still not 100%, but nothing to write home about. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m still contagious though. The W.H.O. say to isolate for 14 days *after* ending symptoms. UK say 7 days from exhibiting. Who’s right? Ask Boris Johnson.


The better news is that Wendy has turned the corner and is getting better. I was worried as it hit her harder and went straight onto her lungs, which is where the bug gets serious. Now she’s got through that phase and is just feeling weak. She’s trying to get back to work next week.


My plan for today was to fit my new handlebars (lower to make for a better, racier riding position) on my motorbike, go to the shop, then go for a run to test my recovery.

I struggled for ages getting one grip off the handlebars. I thought it was glued on, but eventually realised it was just the rubber was gripping the handlebar so tightly. I pushed a screwdriver inside to open it up a bit, sprayed oil inside, and it pulled off easily. Annoyingly easily after the time and effort I’d put in to it before realising. Once that was off it was a simple job to strip the rest. I put the new handlebars in place,… and what do you know? The won’t fit as they’d smack into the headlight fairing.

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I put my old handlebars back on.

I’m thinking of buying a cheap, second hand, headlight fairing and butchering it so the handlebars will fit.

So that was a bust. Again.

While I had the bike out I thought I’d give it a wash, and Wendy’s car, and the house windows.

By the time I’d finished I was breathless, hands on my knees, panting like a dog. Even the really mild mild version of the bug that I had batters your lungs.

I had to go to Sainsbury’s, by which time my headache had kicked in pretty bad as well so I didn’t even attempt the run. I’ll give it a go first thing in the morning, before the day has a chance to exhaust me.

Having the bug for a week, (feeling so, so weak and doing no exercise) coupled with my innate gluttony means I’ve put on a stone. I think a lot of muscle has turned to fat so it’s not a true indication of just how much I’ve put on. I don’t need to scavenge for food now,I just open my mouth as it gets drawn into my gravitational field. I heard that a lot of beached whales die because without the buoyancy of the sea their lungs collapse under their bodyweight. This is probably what’s happening with my lungs.

I’ll try and shuffle my girth into a waddle in the morning. I’ve serious doubts I’ll make a mile, but unless I try I’ll never know.


Everything is odd at the moment. The roads are great, but we’re banned from driving. The weather has turned really nice and sunny but we’re semi-banned from going out, soon to be totally banned. And work has died. When I went off for a week they were desperate for drivers as the panic buying was driving demand through the roof. Then phase 2 of the lockdown shut all the pubs and restaurants and basically killed one of the company’s smaller companies (that primarily delivers to pubs and restaurants). Their drivers with an artic licence have been moved over to our bit, some without have been trained to do order picking in the warehouse.  Wendy and I are really lucky to both have jobs (so far) with all this going on. So many have just been sacked off, zero money for 5 weeks while they put in a claim. It’s scary times.


But in the face of the apocalypse, Twitter keeps on making me laugh.

There was a feel-good story of someone embracing the social distancing/ self isolation thing with a conversation by window signs to their neighbour.







Which was cheering for the situation.

So Twitter got in on the act.


Home schooling was popular.





Some random home tales:




The police accused of “overreach” as they implement Bozo’s lockdown suggestions as if they were law:




Life tips:



A story of a bunch of wild goats taking over a locked-down Welsh town:



And the Scottish version:


Some insightful observations:








(There has been a campaign for everyone to go outside and clap at 20.00 on a Thursday to show appreciation for the NHS. And 5G is the next generation of mobile ‘phone signal, which has some tinfoil hatters incensed).

Just to show however bad things are, there’s always one barking loon trying to make it worse:


After that post went viral, two 5G masts were burned down!


Stay safe people.




There’s only one subject of conversation at the moment; the Coronovirus/ Covid-19.

Because we are dedicated followers of fashion, indeed, bleeding edge fashion setters, we chose early adoption. We’ve been off work for a week with it now. We both thought they were being stupid at work, sending us home to self-isolate, then it hit us hard.

The thinking is that 80% of cases will just be mild. Which sounds nice until you look at the definition of ‘mild’. Anything not requiring “machine assisted breathing” is mild. Cases developing into pneumonia can still be mild.

The other thing I read is that bad cases usually require hospitalisation within 7 days. We are approaching that with no serious issues. Hopefully ours is right at the mildest end of the scale.

For us it has been a horrible weakness that comes upon you mostly in the afternoons. You can still do stuff if you really wanted to, but all you want to do is flop. It’s nasty.

The other thing, as it’s a virus that attacks your lungs, is an odd pain deep in your chest, and the cough.

Wendy’s had that for days, but thankfully it’s not getting any worse, I started properly with it last night. The coughing is just little patches every now and then, nothing constant or irritating. The lung pain is pretty constant. It’s a very mild pain, but it is really unsettling.

The worst thing, which is totally unexpected, is it messes with your head. I noticed a week ago that I was feeling a bit rough, then suddenly I felt like I was having a panic attack.

In the same way “depression” is confused in common usage with “a bit sad”, panic attack has come to mean “a bit flustered”.

I don’t mean that. I mean sudden, irrational, thought blocking fear. It only lasted a few seconds but it was terrifying. I was actually hoping it was just that I’d caught the potentially lethal bug rather than that I was going insane again.

And now the lung thing has kicked in it is provoking more of the same. Wendy’s had bouts of it, so it’s not just me.

I am particularly miffed as, in normal life, due to my condition, I don’t really suffer from fear. I’m not boasting, or pretending I’m brave. I used to think I was, but it’s not true, it’s just that BPD makes you take risks without caring about the consequences. It’s not bravery, it’s a mental health issue.

When they said covid-19 has a 7% mortality rate, my first thought was to lick the first person I met with it. I like those odds and I hate waiting.

Wendy was wildly opposed, by the way.

So you can see just how much of a nasty shock having panic attacks is to me.

At least I’m not going insane.


Also, because we live in an arbitrary yet vindictive universe, as soon as the government were finally pressured into a lockdown (by the French threatening to close their border as a health risk) the rain stopped and it was lovely and sunny. We’re stuck in the house, bored and a bit poorly, just as it’s getting to motorcycling weather. Super.


Selling my Honda is pretty much off the table for the foreseeable future. The economy is tanking, all non-essential businesses have been ordered to close, the workers are getting furloughed or sacked, and even if someone had the money to buy it they aren’t allowed to travel to pick it up.


I’ve got to ring my work tomorrow. That’s the end of my 7 day isolation. I can’t see me going back just yet. The afternoon malaise hasn’t struck yet, but the lung pain (more of a discomfort) has started already.

Even if I could tough out the weakness I’m fair sure they don’t want me to kill all the fat old drivers.


There have been a few, ironic, political laughs.

Basically every policy St Jezza was slagged off for, as being too expensive and/ or impossible is coming to pass.

They’ve nationalised the railways, after a decade of the poor starving to death because there was no magic money tree they’ve suddenly found and spent more than Jezza’s planned budget, and at the drop of a hat they’ve ended homelessness. As someone on Twitter observed, thousands of poor kids starve to death every day all around the world but nothing is done because the rich can’t catch that. The Murdoch owned, Tory agenda, Financial Times ran an article saying this is the end of the Johnson project. People will not stand for a cash starved, threadbare NHS after this. I hope so. Another irony is a headline yesterday in the Torygraph saying that Britain will starve unless we fly in 90,000 Eastern European skivvies to pick the crops.

Brexit. Biting the hand the feeds it since inception.


Twitter has been providing some light relief in these worrying times.














Stay safe out there.




Everything is going a bit mad here due to the fear of the Covid-19/ Cornona virus.

We’ve got idiots fighting in the aisles over toilet paper. We’ve got selfish, greedy, morons stripping the supermarkets bare of anything they can lay their hands on. People are actually stockpiling water! There is a tap in every house. I went into a spring water bottling plant yesterday, usually I’m in and out. I was there 3 hours queuing behind lorries. The guy said they usually send out about 40 loads, yesterday they were sending out 120.

The last time I saw a toilet roll on a shelf was a week ago. There were 3 packs of 4. Because I’m not a selfish, greedy, moron I took one of them.


On the plus side, it means we can get overtime again at work.


As we are now owned by Tesco, they’ve introduced a new policy. Staff can go and get their shopping from Tesco on a Sunday morning an hour before the store opens to the public. I’m going to try it out in the morning.  Other good news from work today is someone has just left so a full time vacancy has become available. I’ve reminded them I want to go back to full time, so hopefully I’ll get that. It’s Tuesday- Saturday,06.00hrs start. A bit earlier than I would have liked, but I’ll take it if they offer it to me.


More good news is that I dug out two partial packs of very early tomatoes that I bought a year ago and the year before that. I thought I’d give them a go. So far 24 out of the 25 have germinated! Yay! I’ve just moved them to the cold frame. I’ll just have to keep an eye out for frosts, but they should be OK.


After my Tesco’s shop tomorrow I’m going to give my VFR750 a wash and relist it. The temperature is rising, (slowly) and it’s stopped raining every single day, so maybe I’ll be able to sell it. I’m going to take a picture with a toilet roll on the bike to drive sales.

Talking of bikes, I got the other tail tidy so I could fit the top box. Then I realised I would have to butcher parts of the brand new plastics on the tail tidy to feed the arms of the rack through. Nothing is ever easy. It was a huge faff, and I had to keep undoing bits I’d already done to do the next bit, but I got it done.


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OK, so the box is ugly, but it’s very practical. And the tail tidy has removed all that ugly plate holder frame thing.

The box doesn’t look too bad from other angles. And I can’t see it when I’m on it.


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The final thing I’m doing to it is swapping the handlebars to clubman bars. Which is to say, drop down handlebars so I’m not sat upright catching all the wind on the motorway.

It does everything I wanted. It handles great (and it should feel even better at cornering with proper bars) it feels fast and it slows me down. Perfect.

What I mean by that is some bikes you can be cruising along at 160mph and you just don’t feel like you’re going fast. You’re in the smooth air from the fairings, the bike isn’t straining, it is just a number on the clock. One that will get you very banned.

On this one you feel all the wind smashing into you, the engine is screaming (not in strained way, it just has a lovely howl) and you feel like you are going really, really fast. Then you look at the clock and you’re not even doing a ton. (Allegedly. So I’ve heard.)


I’ve not managed to run for a week. I’ve come down with some bug that leaves you feeling weak and tired. Meh. It’s not such a concern, as all three of my marathons have postponed until the autumn due to the plague.

There’s a strange duality about life at the moment. Hysterical panic buying, hoarding, people going into self isolation, versus mine and Wendy’s unchanged lives. Well, actually Wendy has had to endure trauma. Her hairdresser has self isolated for 3 months. I said I’d cut it, but she’s still not happy. And her church are stopping meetings.

Happily I’ve been practicing “social distancing” for many years and am so far ahead of the curve on the “avoiding physical contact” thing that I’m basically virus proof.

So that’s where I’m up to .

As Bob Dylan said “the only thing I knew how to do was to keep on keeping on”

Stay safe, people.



Striple, Latest.

I’ve had a few minor developments.

The back brake binding issue was just the anti-chatter spring thing fouling. Since I’ve taken it off all is well. My new spring arrived today. I’ve bought some specialist grease as well, so when I strip the calliper to fit it I’ll give it another clean and a grease.

I was having issues with the ugly bar muffs. They worked great on bikes with a fairing, but on my naked bike they were being forced onto my handlebar levers by the wind pressure.That was not good. I adjusted them as best I could, as they do work great at stopping your hands from freezing.

Then I was riding to work, I pulled off the motorway on to the slip road and the bike totally died. I was left freewheeling with nothing. Luckily it was stupid o’clock on a Saturday morning so there was nothing behind me. I was fumbling about in the muffs trying to pull the clutch in and hit the start button. Still nothing.

I pulled on to the pavement and had a look. The bar muffs had knocked the kill switch, which cuts all the electrics to the engine. I wasn’t best pleased, but at least my new bike hadn’t died. I put it back on and set off. A mile later it did the same thing. The bar muffs came off before I rode home. Enough is enough. I’m not getting killed by a killed switch. It would be too ironic. That might sound melodramatic, it only turned my engine off, but if I’d have been in the outside lane of the motorway at the time, or accelerating out of a dangerous situation, it could have got very messy, very quickly.

On the bright side, the bike looks loads better for it. The sun was out today for the first time in forever, and it wasn’t raining, so I took the opportunity to wash the road muck off and take some pictures.




I have been struggling with the wind blast on the motorway. I know, that’s why I got a naked, to slow me down, but I still want to be quite nippy. Also I don’t like the riding position with the high handlebars for cornering.

The solution to both is simple; a new set of handlebars.

You can spend an absolute fortune getting a single headlight conversion and clip-on handlebars ($500- $1000 just for the headlight kit- that you need before you can fit the clip-on handlebars-.)

It is the best look

dear do!

But I’ve done this before, thought “it doesn’t matter how much it costs, it’s my forever bike so it will be worth it in the long run”, then a year later wanted a change and took a kicking on the price.

As Wendy said, “Buy the bike you want. Don’t buy it and convert it into a different bike.”

There is a workable compromise though. Clubman/ Ace bars. You don’t have to modify the bike in any way, you just take the standard handlebars off (and keep them for refitting if you decide to sell) and stick in the new handlebars.

Like this



As you can see, it’s not the full-on look of clip-on handlebars, or quite the drop, but it’s a cheap and easy way to lower the riding position. It will let me feel more confident to throw it into corners, and let me lie over the tank at motorway speeds.

Then it will be the full package.

I’m still struggling with the top box dilemma.

Do I get the other tail tidy and fit the top box to make it practical for everyday use, or keep it pretty?

top box

Looking at it, it’s not *that* bad.

OK, get over my superficial self.

Right, that’s the way to go.

On the bright side, this Triumph seems to be faultless. I’ve put 2 weeks and about 3 hundred miles on it, and it’s not missed a beat. Splendid.




After the debacle with the Triumph Sprint (Triumph leaving a known weak part to fail, and the previous owner selling it on, as it was about to fail) I bit the bullet, bought the part, fixed it, and sold the bike. I say that like it was a doddle. The sale was a nightmare. It was the same noob who broke it. I don’t want to go through it all as it’s boring and infuriating, but after he’s asked me to take the advert off eBay (ie, he’d agreed to buy it) he came around to look at the bike. I had to take him for a test ride, then he wanted his mate to come around and take it for a test ride, then, after several hours of messing us about and winding me up, he finally agreed he was going to have it.

I had already spotted about the cheapest bike going, so I was desperate to sell to be able to buy it before anyone else snapped it up. Happily we’ve had nothing but rain and gales for months, so nobody was stupid enough to buy a naked bike. Except me.

I was in a rush, so once the pushy noob had bought my bike I arranged to go and view/ buy it as soon as possible. I usually start at ungodly o’clock on a Saturday, with an early-ish finish,usually, so I said I’d go down late in the afternoon.

That meant on Saturday I got up a 03.50 hours, went to work, home for 14.00, on the train for 15.30, arrive at 18.10. Then view and get home. Long day.

On the bright side, the train picked up in Warrington, next stop London. So that was good. Then I had to negotiate the tube, easy as it turns out, but worrisome beforehand. Another train and I was in St Albans right on time.

The guy seemed genuine enough and a nice bloke. And he picked me up from the station. As everyone does in these situations, apart from the rip-off copper who sold me the broken bike. Should have known.


The bike has an alarm, starts on the button, sounds lovely and is in great condition. And, surprisingly, is so small I can actually put me feet more or less flat on the floor! Usually I’m on tip toes, which is less than ideal if you’ve got slippy boots or it’s blowing a gale, but it’s just always been the case so I never thought about it.

So I bought it. I’ve not taken any pictures yet, but it does look just like in the advert.


I took a bulging sports holdall stuffed with clothes, waterproofs, and my bar mitts (they are ugly but keep your hands from freezing). I put the lot on and waddled on to the bike. It turns out, with the route I took to avoid all the roadworks, it was a 188 mile ride back.  That was bracing. And it poured down the last 50 miles. Of course it did. A good test ride for the bike though. It didn’t miss a beat. The guy who sold it to me said “good luck riding that far” saying it would kill my arse. I don’t know if it was all the layers, but I thought it was quite comfy. After 120 miles I started getting wriggly, but nothing extreme. I’ve had bikes (2 spring to mind) that after 70 miles you were stood on the pedals because you couldn’t bear any more. The wind smashing into you is a bit of a pain, but that was the plan. And it does slow you down.

I’m still getting used to it, and it’s been nothing but rain and gales for forever now, but it seems a hoot of a bike. On Sunday, coming home from work, I had a VW Golf right on my back wheel. I shot off from the lights to teach him a lesson in humility, (it’s what I do, you’re welcome car drivers) and the front end came up. Just on the throttle. Which is to say I wasn’t forcing a wheelie by throwing the clutch out, it was already out, but as I accelerated the bike began to lift. They said it is a “hooligan bike” but I thought I’d at least have to try. The front end has remained planted since, but that’s something new and exciting.

I had the bike nearly 24 hours before I started on maintenance. It’s a bit stiff to back up, and the back brake disc and one front disc were getting warm, so I took the brake callipers off and cleaned the pistons. They were lovely. Slightest bit of muck on them. I cleaned them anyway and greased them. The discs are cool now, but the bike still feels a bit stiff to push. Not sure what that means.

Tomorrow I’m going to make it a lot prettier by fitting a tail tidy. It’s a custom number plate holder. I’ve been told it’s the law that the back tyre cannot be the furthest thing on the back of a bike. If you look at the picture the number plate is held out on an ugly arm to be behind the wheel. The tail tidy puts the ‘plate right underneath the rear light.

(I’ll take pictures tomorrow to better demonstrate.)

Then, after making it too pretty to bear, I’m going to ugly-fy it with a top box. That way I can stash my lid at work and don’t have to keep knocking on the door of security to stash and retrieve it. Top boxes are really practical, but really, really ugly. And in no way keeping with the look of the bike. Sorry, Striple.

So that’s where I am. I’ve finished obsessing. I’ve got my bike. It seems to be all as advertised and lovely. And it does exactly what I wanted of it. It goes like stink, handles well (I think, the riding position takes some getting used to and it’s not been dry yet) and there is no chance of you accidentally slipping into automatic ban (100mph) territory by accident. And if you get there, you certainly don’t want to hold that speed.

Oh, I forgot to say. Wendy was going on about my ‘forever bike’ dream. “You always say this, then a few months later you don’t like it and want something else. It’s never ending!”

I finally got home from the 188 mile ride back at 22.30 ish, after a very long day. When I got back Wendy said  “What do you think of it?”

I replied “Nah, it’s not for me, that.”




My VFR750 hasn’t sold. I had 34 people watching it on eBay, but no-one pressed ‘buy it now’.

I’ve got options. Some guy is coming to look at it tomorrow. I’ve had offers for less than my asking price. Or I could just wait until the temperature is warm enough to lure the Fair Weather’s out of their Volvos, and try again.




The guy came around to view and was just nit picking trying to get me to give it away. I was in the middle of a frustrating job on the Triumph so I was utterly uninterested. Buy it or go away. He’s gone “to think about it”. Think about putting your hand in your pocket, mate.

I fitted the tail tidy. It was a bit of an ordeal, as the instructions were at best partial. And I had to improvise, adapt and overcome. I ended up having to saw some off the old plastics to make the new one fit.

I got there in the end and it looks loads better.


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The number plate is a bit off kilter, but I can adjust that.

Once that job was done I set to fitting the top box.


Once again the universe proves arbitrary yet vindictive.

The frame for the top box runs inside the exhaust pipes then flattens off just above the seat height. Which means, because I bought the cheap design of tail tidy, it won’t fit.


The frame wants to come up just about where the arrow is.  I thought about taking an angle grinder to my brand new tail tidy, but as I’d have to strip everything off again to do that, thought I’d better do some research first.

I was in the middle of trying half a dozen adaptations and workarounds when the guy came to view the bike.

I went to look for bikes that had a top box and a tail tidy. I found they’d relisted the ugly, but local, bike I was going to get.

tidy box

Indicators coming out of the side of the light. I tracked that down.

tail tidy 2

So, I’m going to have to buy the dearer tail tidy, that gives the top box frame room to pass.


Then sell mine on eBay.

Then I braved the freezing cold and hail showers to wash the road salt off.

Looking good.

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Apart from the pug ugly bar handmuff things. I’ll be so glad when it warms up so I can take them off.

The back brake was a bit sticky so I’ve stripped and cleaned that again. The anti chatter spring was fouling the piston, so I’ve ordered a new one. Hopefully that will be the end of that.

So, that’s where I’m up to on my latest obsession.


I’ve learnt some valuable lessons in the last week.

For a start, my plans are useless in the face of reality. I had planned to sell the Honda VFR750 and part-exchange my Triumph Sprint for a Triumph Street Triple (Striple) at a bike shop. I thought they’d be able to give me a good price for mine as they’d already inflated the price of the Striple. Ha! They offered me £1,700 for my bike. Not even.

So, change of plan, sell both bikes privately and buy a Striple.

I tarted them up, got them listed, thinking one would sell then, buy the Striple, sell the other.

Suddenly I had two people interested in the bikes. Typical, but I could always push-bike for a few days.

A guy came around to see my Triumph while I was at work. I left it chained to the house and left the key with Wendy so he could start it up and see there was nothing wrong with it.

Apparently he did. Then stopped it. Then started it again. After a few goes it wouldn’t start again. I  got home to a dead bike. I thought he’d drained the battery, my initial google said that it’s a big ol’ engine and it drains batteries. Fair enough, I ordered a new battery, while I put the current one on charge. The next day it still wouldn’t run. And it was making a horrible noise. Like something was rattling around in the engine.

I did a lot more google research and found the early 1050cc engines were known to have a flaw, this disc that only allows the starter motor assembly to spin one way. Called the sprag clutch. I found a video of a 1050 with sprag clutch issues and it was the exact sound. The guy who sold it to me knew the sprag was going and sold it on quick. I’d never even heard of a sprag clutch so he got me good.

I had to tell the guy who wanted it that it wasn’t for sale, then text the guy who wanted the Honda and tell him the same as I needed it for work.

I found a video on replacing the sprag clutch, which helpfully listed the parts you’d need and their numbers so I could order them off the Triumph site.

£385 for the parts.

£16 for a workshop manual.

£40 for a battery.

Oh yes, the pain keeps coming.

Today was my day off so I thought I’d strip the bike down. Then I got an email saying my battery and bits were arriving today. Bonus.

It was fiddly getting the fairing off, and a royal pain trying to prize the engine covers off without using any force, but the job itself was suspiciously straight forward.


Stripped it down to there, and didn’t need to go any further.

As the guy on the video said, Triumph have never stated that the replacement is and upgrade, or recalled and refitted what they knew was a faulty part, but look at how beefed up the “not upgraded” part is:

20200218_124345 (2)

I should have taken a picture from the other side. There are roller bearings lining the sprag clutches. Presumably it’s for that you are paying the extortionate fee.

Anyway, I was ripped off by Triumph and the guy who sold me the bike, but we are where we are. The job had to be done. The good news is it all went back together and started first time.

This was me starting it up, very nervously:

I turned it off and on a few times to test it, no horrible noise, all working fine.


While I was freezing my arse off and filthy anyway, I had a look at the Honda as well. One of the pipes was cool on tickover. I’d stripped and cleaned, then changed, the slow jets about 3 times. Awful job, you have to strip loads off just to get at the carbs. Today I checked the plugs. Which made no sense, but I thought I’d rule it out. I put new spark plugs in, fired it up and the other pipe was cold. Huh? I screwed the HT leads more firmly into the the spark plug caps, and… Bob’s your uncle. Hot pipes. The amount of work I did on the carbs… Ah well. Working now.

So I’ve relisted the bikes tonight.


I have seen the bike I want. I was getting my head turned by the newer models with ABS. And the upgraded suspension and brakes of the R models. But you start adding thousands of pounds to the price. And the thing is these are naked bikes. The engine is going to take a battering from salt and grit over winter. They won’t stay pristine for long if you use them. And with my riding skills, am I really going to benefit from fancy pants suspension and sharper brakes?

I took a step back from licking the window of the latest and dearest Striples and looked for a “cheap” one I can still enjoy.

Look at this:

Striple 1


2009, 16K miles, I’ve been through all it’s MOTs online, it’s never failed one, and only had two advisories on one of them a few years ago. The current owner has had it for 3 years, doing 2K a year!  It’s had the valves done (a big and expensive job) and has an alarm fitted.

And the 675 Striples don’t have the sprag clutch issue.

The only downside is it’s not red. It’s already been proven that red ones are faster. Basic science.

It’s 173 miles away. Obviously. They are never local. It’s the law. And Wendy can’t drive me. Again.

I’m thinking of trading her in for a car with a tow hook and bike trailer.

If someone would just buy mine before this one sells it would be happy days.


In other, non obsessing-over-Triumphs news, I’ve taken a week off running to try and rest the tendons on the top of my foot. They are a lot better but the still won’t heal. I can tell as soon as I start moving they are going to flare up again.

There. 3 non-bike sentences. Variety is the spice of blogs.



Zen And The Art Of Lorry Driving.

There is a book called Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance. It’s supposed to be expressing spiritual enlightenment through observation of ordinary life with a motorbike. It’s twee, home spun, anecdotal, badly written rubbish.

So, a perfect template for this blog.

It’s just I’ve been trying to make small, but fundamental, changes to my driving attitude. Which has made me reflect on what is wrong in the first place.

The mistakes:

Do not try and impose your will on the universe.

Accept the situation as it is, do not say “should/ shouldn’t”. They should be doing 50mph/ indicate, they shouldn’t get in front of me then brake…

We probably all know someone who spends their life perpetually angry and/or upset because the arbitrary rules they impose on life aren’t respected by people or events. This is bad.



It’s not about me. Remove self from the equation.  When someone dives into the minimum safe gap you’ve left to the vehicle in front, don’t take it as an insult. Don’t risk crashing thinking “you’re not pushing in in front of ME.”

If you remove self, it’s not a personal challenge or a slight, it’s just the gap has been decreased so you need to roll off the throttle for a few seconds until it opens again. Over the course of a whole day it’s unlikely you’re going to lose more than a minute or two but everyone gets home alive and keeps their job. Also, if you accept, and expect, people pushing in you don’t get yourself into a state about it.

You can either spend the whole day angry and tense or relaxed.

The external situation remains virtually the same, but you can choose how you react to it. Instead of being a victim of external forces you are a passive observer of them. Taking control of the situation by not trying to take control.


It’s a work in progress, but it’s definitely the way to go.

Of course none of this applies to motorbikes. I swear, I didn’t even know what road rage was until I got a car licence. On a bike slow traffic is just a mobile chicane. Traffic jams are a stationary chicane. No-one cuts me up or holds me up. They may try to kill me with oblivious U turns in front of me, or pulling out without looking, or changing lanes as I’m overtaking, but that doesn’t give me rage, just wakes me up.

You see what you’ve done now? You’ve got me on to motorbikes.

After my initial reservations, I now concede the Triumph is the better bike. ABS brakes, bigger engine, and now I’m getting used to the gearbox, oodles of ‘go’ on tap. I think I was shifting up too quickly. It has a huge spread of speed for each gear. If you want to accelerate, on the slip road joining the motorway for instance, leave it in each gear longer and it will fly. And although I’ve only had it a few days, it has out-cornered my lovely VFR. I set a new PB through a really tight turn and my foot touched down (still on the footpeg). That pretty impressive. Not for my lack lustre riding skills, but that it could instil that much confidence in the grip and handling in such a short time.

When I rode it home I was thinking I was going to have to spend another £260 on a set of tyres. Nope. These will do just fine.

The Triumph is just better.

My reservation now is that it’s too good. There’s too much top end. It’s good for 160mph, but anything over 100 is an automatic ban. 

I was messing with the VFR today. One jet is still blocked, I’ve ordered a new jet. I’ve got to spend a day stripping it down again, but at least then I know it’s in perfect working order. My thinking at the moment is to sell the VFR when I’ve sorted it.

I spent a few hours cleaning the road muck and accumulated cleggy oil of it (from the chain) with a rag and a toothbrush. Then gave it a good wash and polish.

20200202_132021 (2)

Looking too nice to sell.

But the Triumph looks pretty too.

20200201_145509 (2)

Hmm, looking at them together I see the similarities. Red, (obvs) single sided swing arm, high level exhaust.

Anyway, my vague plan is sell the VFR, then, later on, trade the Triumph Sprint ST for a Triumph Street Triple. It’s a 675cc, naked (no fairing) triple instead of the 1050cc, faired, triple.

That way it’s a lot less top end and you feel every mph because you are being blasted by the wind with no protection from the fairing. That should totally slow me down. It’s a Triumph triple and it handles just as well, so I can still have all the fun, just without the licence shredding top end. This one hits the ton with two gears left. Allegedly.

Amazingly impressed with Triumph though. Who knew?



A Triumph?

I’ve been window shopping bikes for a while now. I know, I know. I love my VFR750 and it’s wonderful and will run for ever, etc, but the grass is always greener.

I was looking at bikes I’ve had before and for which I have a nostalgic fondness. In spite of the actual performance of some of the bikes. But they are all old, old bikes now. My VFR is 25 years old this year.

Then I was looking at the new (-ish) Triumphs. They do a rather nice naked (no fairings) 675cc triple. And the odd thing is, they are really up there on the reviews. Class leading, indeed.

Street triple 2

The downside being they are hugely popular and a premium marque, so expensive. That one is second hand and £4,800.

All the talk is of the distinctiveness of the triple engine. Not revvy like an inline 4, lumpy like a parallel twin, or thumpy like a V twin. Lots of torque, fast, and responsive. With a unique triple character.

I was very sceptical. I thought MotorCycle News (MCN) were just being jingoistic fanboys. The Triumphs I remember were basically semi-mobile teach-yourself-engineering devices. With additional muscle building from pushing it home. But every review, UK, US, Aus, all say the same.

That’s a hell of a turn up for the books.

So, I kept searching the ads, picking my ideal bike,then not buying it because it was too expensive. And I do love my VFR.

Then my lovely VFR spluttered a bit and wasn’t running on all cylinders. Just for a few hundred yards, but then you’re conscious of it. It’s been getting more tricky to start for a while but I put it off as getting at the carbs on a V4 is a bit of an ordeal. Once it’s got to not running on all four you have to do something.

I stripped it down on my day off. Fairings off, seat off, tank off, airbox off, disconnect the carbs then prise them out, take the bottoms off the carbs remove the jets, clean, poke and replace.

Put like that it sounds like a really easy job. So not.  Two of my jets were completely blocked and were really hard to clear. Then just pop it back together again. It took me over 5 hours sat outside in the freezing cold.

I was miffed.

All that faffing about to poke a bit of wire down four jets. Enough is enough.

I hit the internet again, thinking about getting a newer VFR, I love mine, so a newer one, with fuel injection and ABS would be brilliant.

I sourced several. A bit over budget but not by the vast margin of the Street Triple. Then I cross referenced them with MCN reviews. To my amazement they said the VFR800 was good, but the Triumph Sprint ST (Sports Tourer) was in every way better.

A Triumph.

Better. Than. A. Honda.

The VFR is legend. The Best Bike Ever Built. The yardstick. The class leader in ST.

And the Triumph is in every way better.


Then I saw it was a 1050cc triple. The magic word, “triple”. WANT! WANT! WANT!

I went on to that sultry temptress eBay, and had a look.

Someone selling a 2005 Triumph Sprint 1050 ST, fuel injection, ABS, 15,000 miles, for £2,500 or best offer.

This was all in the same day and evening as I’d been hassled by my carbs. In a rush of blood to the head I offered £2,300 for it. It looked such a good bike, so low miles, I wanted to click “buy it now” at full price, but I thought I’d try and haggle.

I got up in the morning, cooler head about to prevail, and got an email:  “offer accepted.”

Oh. Whoops.

So Wendy is now the proud co-owner of a Triumph.

She’s totally overjoyed.

Down inside.

Deep, deep, down inside.






Those are all pictures from the advert. I’ve not actually seen it in daylight yet. Picked it up at night, stupid o’clock start for work, late finish.

I had a massive ordeal going to pick it up yesterday. A bus, 3 trains, and a £21 taxi. Not even as far down as Brum. Wendy needs to get over her fear of motorways. To be fair, after I’d added another hour to my journey time by going to the wrong train station, she did offer to run me, but it would have been too much of a learning curve for her. The M6 is always a nightmare, then unlit country roads, and her longest drive…

Anyhow, I digress.

I picked it up, then followed the taxi driver’s (very bad) advice. What should have been a 80 odd mile journey was 120. And it was so bitterly cold. Several hours of pure frozen.

I’ll give it a while to accustom myself to a new bike and get used to this one for what it is, before I commit to a review of it. But first impressions are; the engine is smooth. So, so smooth. The power is there and it just builds. It doesn’t thump, or scream, or hit mad power bands. It’s like turning a dimmer switch. I’m not sure I like it. It might just be that I have to adjust my riding to how the bike works.

The reviews talk of 160mph top end, footpeg to footpeg cornering, and total comfort for touring. Hence Sports Tourer. I’ll give it a while to adjust to it.

If I don’t take to it, I just have to wait for some warmth and sunshine. When the fair weather bikers get out of their Volvos I can make a few bob on this one.

Rejoice! For the time being we are a two bike family again. Wendy is ordering pink leathers as we speak.



Happy Days!

I’ve completed day 26 of my run streak today. A minimum of 2 miles every day. I will accept 1 mile at a desperate push, but so far I’ve stuck to a minimum of 2.

The idea is that running every day is the quickest way to regain my fitness, stamina and, hopefully, strengthen my weak running muscles that caused the IBTS.

Before I got the IBTS I was trying to go for a sub 3 hour marathon, and I was fairly fit, so I was knocking out lots of PBs. More or less at will. I went for a 10 mile one and near killed myself. I got it, but when I checked back it was only a few seconds faster than when I was run streaking. So, I know it’s the way to go.

I’ve gone from 3 months of injury and a really gentle and tentative start on January the first, to making my ‘long’ run a half marathon (13.1 miles) last week. About 4 miles in to that run I was having self doubt. “Can’t do it! It’s too far!” Today I set out to do a 15 mile run and I felt so good I was going to do 18 miles. My knee started hurting though, so I settled for turning round at 8 miles. My knee held up on the way back, but it was lucky I turned when I did, as the wind was in my face on the way back and I flagged badly. The last 3 miles were tough. Another 2 miles would have been too much.

But the good news is I set out to do 15, did 16, and my knee held.

A nice easy 2 miles tomorrow.

Another positive is some people make it their running goal to do a thousand miles in a year, I’ve started off from tiny runs, there’s another 5 days of this month, and I’m currently on 133 miles. As always, everything is subject to injury, but so far, so good.

In other running news, I’ve been doing one run of hills. This involves running through the pitch black park, over several bridges with steps, one of which is unlit, and doing hill repetitions on a steep bridge that crossed the Mersey, but goes nowhere, so there’s no traffic on it. Also dark.

It turns out the Mersey bridge, running up one side, down the other, then back again, is .4 of a mile. 2½ miles (with 4 bridges) to get there, then hill reps. My second go at that route, this week, I got there then did 3 miles of hill reps.

I’m going to need one for the 24 hour run anyway, but I’ve got a head torch for the dark training.

Some loud!


I got a cheap, generic one from Decathlon, but it was rubbish. Hard plastic with no padding so it digs into your head. I asked my running chums on Twitter and everyone recommended this brand (LED Lenser). Also, if I don’t like the headband thing, it comes with a chest strap.

That’s my plan now. Hill runs, speed runs, long runs. With easy runs in between. Which reminds me, I started back at the running finding it tough to get under 8.30 m/m. On a 2 mile run this week I warmed up on the first mile then sprinted back. It was incredibly tough, but I got a 6.50. I only need to maintain 6.47 for a sub 3.

I’m not thinking sub 3 at the moment. I’m going to build everything, but aim to put 2 miles per week on my long run. Train more for the 24 hour race. Once I’ve got that out of the way my fitness should be able to cope with trying to go fast.

Yes, back to boring running blogs.