Riding to the Ace Cafe' gives you thinking time about the follies of perhaps riding a machine that was built over many decades, first of all; in 1942 you can only imagine what a WLC Harley Davidson might have gone through during those war years. Long gaps in its history meant that when I eventually saw it, the engine had been crudely mounted in a 1960 wide-line Norton Featherbed Frame using pieces of welded up old angle iron, nuts and bolts and bits of wire.

It was a far cry from what…

The Helium Mice

The helium mice,

they just ate my ceiling,

they floated around,

without any feeling,

they munched on the paper,

and plaster as well,

then when they were full,

on the floor they just fell,

unable to walk,

they just rolled around,

like great furry balls,

with a loud squeeking sound,

they rolled from the room,

out through the door,

then down the hall stairs,

they could eat little more,

I…

1967-ish; I must have been about ten or eleven, looking over the fence in our garden in the small english market town of Newton Abbot in Devon. A Royal Enfield motorcycle was being cleaned by its owner and I was watching with a bored expression, just waiting for the guy with the quiff in his leather jacket to start it and make that wonderful angry sound that barks at the world as only a big single can. He tucked the rag under the bikes seat then threw his leg over it rolling it off the…