Why do I do this?

Last week an old friend told me he’d always thought I had ADD and had just never had the guts to tell me.

I have often been called a little crazy and when I think about it he’s probably right. I’m in a frenzy about most things, especially motorbikes, work, my family, Josh Brookes, riding motorbikes and talking about motorbikes.

I’m also fascinated by human interaction, what makes people tick. A while ago, in fact many years, I bought the audio book ‘How to Win Friends and Influence People‘ by Dale Carnegie.

A lot has been said about this book – it’s almost become the generic brand name for ‘self help’ publications and unless you’ve actually read it or heard it, as in my case, it’s pretty easy to poke crap at. But that’s only until you’ve had a chance to listen to it.

It teaches a couple of incredibly simple rules about people. Such as: try and always see things from the other’s perspective, and never criticize others – it only gets their backs up.

The reason I am writing this, is today I had one of my profound moments. It doesn’t happen often, but it did today. The most often asked question about the c word I am asked, is ‘why do you do it?’

I never really had an answer, but today I worked it out thanks to HTWFAIP. You see, I have always said that we do it because it’s fun, and it makes us laugh – we never really thought or cared about the people who’d be watching it, it just happened to be something that resonated.

Did we try to be cool? No. Are we cool? Not for me to say. We could be really crap and some people may think we are, but we just do it because we like it. Or that’s what I always said until now.

The big change occurred when I began to see things from our ‘fans’ point of view. There aren’t a lot of them, but enough to convince us to carry on doing what we’re doing. Whatever they got out of what we were doing, it made them feel good, entertained, laugh and generally feel that they weren’t wasting their time watching us.

And my realization is this. We do actually care about what people think of us. More than I would have been prepared to admit. Why else would we be doing something that takes up our time and doesn’t really make any money at all?

I do give a shit about people who love bikes and cars. I do care that they have a laugh and I do care that they like us. Maybe not such a bombshell for you, but a pretty big one for me.

So going forward when I’m asked, I’ll say that, like us, hate us or indifferent, we give a shit about you, and hope that we give you stuff that make you say “those guys at the c word rock!”

Now, what crazy wak shit can we dream up for next year’s shows?

Barry Humphries.

When I was young, my Mum introduced me to the funniest book I have ever read. I suppose it should be no surprise that this book was written by the funniest and cleverest performer Australia has produced.

I refer, Your Honour, to ‘The Traveler’s Tool’ by Sir Les Patterson aka Barry Humphries. It’s a book that starkly portrays everything I love about Australians – and everything that makes me cringe.

Utterly piss funny, it’s about the most inappropriate book I have ever read – showcasing every taboo there is. Race, sex, porn, you name it – all from the words of Australia’s cultural attaché, Sir Les Patterson, formerly the ‘Minister of The Yartz’.

I can honestly say I still love it more than any book in my pathetic collection (which includes other classics such as The Goodies Disaster Movie and Asterix goes to the Olympics).

I have always wanted to meet Barry Humphries since the day Mum gave me that present.

It’s like the day I first saw the CB1100R. I was a young lad, walking to work up Elizabeth St in Melbourne and there was a CB1100R in the window of the Honda store. I wanted one. I needed one. Problem was, I had no money. In the ensuing years I saved up my cash and eventually bought the most beautiful 1100R you’ll ever see. And riding it is even better. Big, tough, no nonsense, brute of a bike.

So, back to Barry Humphries. A couple of years ago I was invited to a dress up party – ‘Australiana’ was the theme, so of course I went as Sir Les. False teeth, big guts, food all over me, huge knob in my pants. I was utterly disgusting to all the girls. Didn’t get a root, but won the prize for the best outfit.

Which brings me to last night. I took my Mum to see Barry Humphries in Melbourne for possibly his last show. A mate gave me the idea to get an autograph on the photo of me being Sir Les from the party. Long shot, stage door deal, but I thought I give it a whirl. So there I was, with the photo in an envelope, white marker pen, ready to go and whilst strolling along the riverfront to find a café – there he was, right in front of me! Barry Humphries.

So I went up to him, asked him to sign the photo very politely, and he was…delightful. He was kind. He was everything I imagined him to be. He signed my photo (as Sir Les). He laughed at the giant purple headed beast in my trousers and wished me well.

My dream was fulfilled. Just a moment of magic I’ll hold onto for the rest of my life. I may never meet him again, but at least I’ve got the 1100R in the garage. I think I’ll go for a spin. See, dreams do come true!

Nude Scootering.

The benefits of riding a scooter in the urban environs cannot be overstated. I’ll list the reasons I ride a scooter.

Firstly, I get where I want to go as fast as anyone could without breaking the speed limit. Sure, I lane split, use bike lanes where safe, sometimes even the footpath, but in general stay pretty much on the side of the law that is safe and reasonably respectful.

Secondly, I park anywhere. If I have an appointment in the city, I can usually park right outside the front door. I cannot tell you how cool this is. It saves heaps of money, time and headaches – and parking tickets.

Thirdly, they’re cheap to run, cheap to register, cheap to insure. So on the pros side, you’d probably agree they are the solution to living in the city and getting around.

Except for today. Today is one of those days here in Melbourne that we like to call an apricot boiler. It’s 39 degrees C outside, windy, and as hot a buggery.

I have just returned from a couple of appointments, my toilet area is sweaty, I am desperately uncomfortable in most of my other areas and I feel like a nap.

I have helmet hair, baked on, and smell slightly unnatural. So what’s the solution? Go nude. That’s what I say. Nude scootering is the new black.

Think about it. No more steamed Dim Sims down there, a great all over tan, and you’ll be guaranteed to part traffic. Sure, if you happen to hit anything hard it’s going to sting, and clients may have second thoughts about using your services, but in an overall sense, there are far more upsides than downsides.

In fact, like nude beaches, we could introduce nude roads. Only people on scooters who have tackle out can use ‘em. It’s bound to catch on.

The only issue I see to my grand new plan is if the temperature drops. It’s not that you’d get cold, it’s that your man-ness will shrink. And when you ride a scooter, you need all the help you can get.

So I have recently been trialing the new ‘scooter sausage’ accessory. It’s guaranteed to give a constant and reliable profile, regardless of the ambient temperature. So look out for me on those hot days.

And all you chicks out there, don’t get angry if you think it’s false advertising. You’ve been doing it with push up bras for years – it’s now our turn. Or at least those of us who ride a scooter in 38+ degree days, have no shame and no idea. Rock on!

Superbikes = Good. 20 to 1 = Shit.

After experiencing the rush of jumping on the back of Shawn Giles‘ Superbike last Friday, and then dicing around the track with Lincoln, who was riding shotgun with Kevin Curtain, I have got to say the ride home in the Volvo was about as interesting as just about anything on Channel 9.

For those of you from OS, channel 9 is a local TV station that pumps out the most mind numbingly crap TV known to man, or woman or even dog.

They serve up their ’20 to 1′ bullshit almost nightly, which is akin to taking your brain, putting it in a blender, then eating it.

What really hurts is that this crap must rate, or they wouldn’t bother. Or maybe people are just so mentally comatose by the utter garbage that they are forced to watch, they just don’t care anymore.

I think that instead of watching TV, for any reason except to view the latest Top Gear genius (the UK one, not the Aussie ‘oh, I will now try and be witty, natural and edgy, just like Jeremy’ shit) everyone should get on a motorbike and go for a ride.

Anywhere will do. Better if it’s an old bike. Something porno. Like a CBX1000 or a Katana 1100, chicks love guys that ride them.

At least you’re using your brain, even if it’s only to work out how to get the fucking thing going when you’re still 40 kilometres from home and it’s broken down.

And secondly, if you don’t own a bike, get an old TV, the older the better, then put it next to your other TV – the one that works. Turn on Channel 9. Then look at the old shitter, then Channel 9. Do this at least five times. I bet you end up watching the old one.

Why? Coz you’ll be thinking of your last great ride and dreaming of your next and not stewing your brain on the latest 20 to 1 ‘Hollywood celebs – whose done the most coke and crashed the most cars?’ special.

Or at worst, watch 20 to 1 whilst riding pillion on the couch. It’s even better than being on the back of an SBK bike. You can take that to the bank.

Collingwood Speed humps.

In days gone past, a speed hump was something I performed, then called as many mates as I could to boast. Once I was graced by three girls in two different states in 24 hours.

I am not telling you this to boast, although it’s pretty fucking cool I reckon, it’s to illustrate that I have a long standing relationship with speed humps – which is why I am pissed off.

The local area has just constructed speed humps right around c word central and fuck me – they’re big.

I’m talking escarpment big. I’m talking crazy base jumping shit off the other side – but with a car strapped to your arse.

What’s the deal? I mean, do they actually think about the speed they want a car to slow down to, and then make a bump that size? I say no. They just build the biggest fuck off hill they can, so that you feel like you’re driving in Monument Valley – straight over those big rocky bits, and then careen off the other side.

No shit, they ought to sell tickets – or the concept to New Zealand – they love all that kind of stuff. The really annoying thing is, this only makes you use more fuel, wear out brakes more quickly, have a greater chance of someone driving up your butt hole, and get extremely angry.

I did a test on my V70R AWD, which chews juice like Dorian Yates chews chicken breasts at the best of times. 25 litres per hundred Kms! Fuck me!

The local council is run by lefty, green, mung bean shelving agitators who constantly drone on about how they recycle this and greenify that.

And then they put in shit that makes you slow down to three kilometres per hour, then speed up to 40, then slow down to three, then to 40 – all in the space of 400 meters and therefore use 20 times more fuel than you would otherwise if you had just been cruising a 40kms minding your own business.

I’ll state this as clearly as I can. You are all DICKHEADS.

My solution? Make the humps negotiable at 20kms per hour for the average car, that way you’re only going to cruise, but you won’t speed up and down as greatly, thereby using ridiculous amounts of bang water.

My Volvo is now responsible for depleting more fossil fuels than the Saturn 5 rocket – and that shit was going to the moon!

No one wants to see kiddies being run over, and I’m all for driving at a reasonable pace in built up areas. But don’t treat us like idiots. Or I’ll come down to the council offices and insert a speed hump down the eye of your knob. That way you can have the sort of speed hump 24/7 you deserve.

Honda CBX1000 exhaust is back

I picked up the exhaust from the polishing dudes and I must admit, whilst it aint perfect – only a new one will have that effect, it looks a lot better. The dirty 31 year old stains from road grime have gone and it’s sparkling like a champion. i also picked up some new exhaust lug nuts, so it now looks bloody fantastic.

I also cleared the buggery out of the front of the engine with this stuff called Dobotex – it’s made by Shell and is a degreaser / cleaner that works like a charm – best thing I have found. The massive exposed engine on the CBX catches every piece of crap that the world can throw up at it, so this stuff has gone part of the way to clean it up like new. Another couple of goes and it’ll look like brand new. It’s quite corrosive when not mixed with water, so i painted it into the fins and made sure none has spattered on to the front mudguard paint. Waited 10 minutes, and then jerry rigged the hot water tap into the jet wash and blasted  it silly. You’ll see from the photo how pretty she is now.

Next, it’ll be down to looking at nuts and bolts, and little pieces like the centre stand and side stand that need a new coat.

Honda CBX1000 exhaust – polish time

The time has come to rip off the original 6 into 2 exhaust and get it polished. It’s pretty ratty, and with most of the other areas of the bike now looking the biz, the last few areas were really starting to shit me. The headers were pretty stained with road grime, baked on and immovable, the under regions (roughly were your balls would be if you’re a bloke) were rusty and crappy and the mufflers had spots of rust. Internally I think they are OK – time will tell, so Ive taken them off and dropped to Mr Sparkles polishing in Richmond. Give that the chrome may be damaged in some areas, I am not expecting too much, but they still beat repro pipes. Should have em back in a couple of weeks.

the mufflers are OK, but could be better

Honda CB1100R, CBX1000, CX500 Turbo on the road

To take us away some of the indoor work from the cosmetic restoration work on the RC30, The C Word crew got some of the fleet out for a spin. And what a day. 100kms through the beautiful Yarra Valley with 3 of the coolest beasts going around. All bikes performed flawlessly, the CB1100R drawing more than a few admiring glances, the CBX smacking all the new sportsbike riders upside da head – lots of – what the hell’s that! – and th CX500 Turbo reeling from turbo lag to crazy boost through the hills. The CB1100R felt as tight as a drum, showing its pedigree as a hand built racer, the CBX being a smooth as a rat pack crooner, but with the F16 howls screeming from the exhaust and the turbo chugging away in its top heavy, flawed but intriguing way. More on these bikes next time. But you cant beat a classic Honda!

And not to mention the Turbo

Honda RC30 front end reattached

After only 45 minutes, the triple clams, handlebars and forks have gone back into the RC30. And boy does it look the business. Everything went in without a hassle, the front end now looks brand new again. Next, the axle is coming back from the zinc platers and in will go the front wheel.

Honda RC30 alloy bits are back

After a few weeks at the house of Lincoln, The C word’s tech guru, the alloy bits and pieces from the RC30 have returned – and look amazing! Gone are the crappy pock marked corrosion stains. In their place, perfect new looking finishes on all. The top triple clamp is the bomb. You’ll see from the shot that it looks perfect. Angry Brian from Custom Colour has given them all a coat of clear to protect against future corrosion, so now I’ll put them on – starting with the triple clamps and forks – see my next blog for a shot of the progress.

The rear sets and various other bits also look perfect