The dark and damp corner of the web where those bike related matters that upset me are consigned to oblivion amid much ill informed, horribly biased, sarcasm and bigotry. (and a little humour hopefully...)

Now people, you have a choice, you can read down through the whole rogues gallery, or pick a topic from the list below for a short cut.

New to the dungeons are the Franklin Mint, French lavatory arrangements, (yes, really) and I've added the Suzuki Hayabusa to the world's ugliest bike list, just after my 'appreciation' of the R1200C. PLUS! A reader contribution at last!

Let the Charges Be Read....

Long overdue for a sentence to the bin, we have the Franklin Mint. Now, the bike models they've produced, such as the Easyrider bikes I can forgive, as they didn't look too bad. The Heritage looked a bit odd and the Police Glide looked like a kids plastic kit that had been assembled on Boxing day morning while the kid was wearing his other Christmas present, a pair of ill fitting boxing gloves. But, like I say, I can forgive all that, and if you bought one of the bike models, that's fine by me. But just recently things have got seriously naff and tacky with 'Biker Bobby the Righteous Biker Baby,' or something like that. That was pretty gruesome stuff, but now they've gone and added Mum to the family with the "Bold, Beautiful and Born to Ride Candy." This is a figure of a biker 'chick' and it is just too horrible to contemplate. Besides, most of the biking females I know look nothing like her. Oh no, most have to dress up in acres of waterproof nylon that features a saggy bum and no visible waist. Helmet hair (ie flattened) features prominently too and most look like the swamp monster from hell after a long ride in the rain. But it is the whole Franklin Mint thing that irritates me, as it is one big rip off. Take those delightful 'collectors' plates. They are generally limited to a 75 day production run. But just how many tacky plates can be made in 75 days? Millions probably, especially as they are probably made in some sweatshop that employs 14 year old kids working around the clock for beans. The pictures depicted on these priceless gems are not especially well done, (though I could not do better) and they are only transfers anyway. Now, I also happen to work in an auction room, and we do see these things in from time to time, and I can tell you that their resale value is zip. This is because most descerning people can only see them for what they really are. Junk. Tasteless, poorly executed, junk. 195 Dollars for a biker babe doll? No way. If I had that sort of wedge, I'd be looking to invest in a true collectable, like an old dealership sign, factory tools, etc. Much better.  Top of page. 

Harley Davidson What? Who? Surely not? Yup, the good old Motor Company deserves it's place in anyones bin for a variety of reasons.  But in fact it is their legal dept. who commit the most heinous crimes in bike world. They go off in search of anything they can trademark/copyright, including the sound of their engines at idle - the now famous, 'Potato-Potato' saga. By the way, what of Harleys in France, do their engines sound like 'Pomme de terre-Pomme de terre'? Do the Germans have bikes that make the sound 'die Kartoffel-die Kartoffel'? and the Spanish 'Patata-Patata'? (you know I reckon the Spanish version sounds alright).

You know, it's a darn good job that not all the manufacturers patented their engine noises, as we'd only ever have a handful of bikes to choose from. Had they done so though, I reckon Moto Guzzi could've patented their engine sound as 'Crobba ~ Crobba' while Ducati would've had 'Badoom ~ Badoom.' The Honda CX500 would've been 'Knock ~ Knock' and the BMW K series 'Wibble ~ Wibble.' The Triumph twins would have to be 'Vroom ~ Vroom' followed by 'Chink ~ Chink ~ Tinkle' as the headlight fell out, while the SR500 Yam would be '       ~      ' because no one could ever start them. The new Yam sportsbike, the R1, would be 'Wah ~ Wah ~ Kersmasshhh' followed a few days later by 'Thunk ~ Thunk' as the earth hits the coffin lid. Why stop there? Lets patent all the sounds you hear connected with bikes, such as at the Harley parts counter: 'Would sir like that with conchos or fringes?' and 'What's a Shovelhead?' or the Italian parts counter: 'Six weeks??' and the Japanese parts counter: 'How much??' Common sounds heard around the Suzuki Hayabusa would be 'Christ that's ugly' and 'Excuse me sir, but do you know your rear tyre is bald?'

All very silly. Not that this practice is peculiar to H-D of course, it is rife everywhere in the modern world, and even our very own Triumph are getting in on the act. They have taken shops who deal in the Meriden built twins to court for displaying the (old) Triumph logo prominently, despite the fact that the 'new' logo is subtly different, and these shops were in business long before the new factory even existed. Protecting your business is one thing, getting greedy is something else, particularly when you use your new found legal rights to reinvent your own history. How long before Triumph bring out an 'Ace Cafe' special, and then sue the owners of the cafe for the rights to the name. Wouldn't surprise me one bit.  Top of page. 

Volvo, Long term purveyors of battering rams to the masses. Many countries, individuals and corporations are justly villified for their policies on human rights, rain forest consumption, killing of dolphins etc. Yet Swedens silent army, intent on a world wide cull of two wheelers, continues to roll off the production lines unchecked. The consequences of a serious accident become a minor inconvenience to the driver, who knows he can walk away from an accident smiling to himself, just like the man in the tv ads of a few years ago. Therefore risk perception amongst Volvo drivers seems to be the lowest in the world, the safer they feel, the more risks they take, without even realising it. Or maybe it's just that Volvo drivers are arrogant snobs. Whatever, 'The worlds safest car' is without a doubt, the worlds most dangerous to those of us who have to share road space with these automotive killing machines. And now I see that the new series of 'ER' is produced 'in association with Volvo,' Huh!  Top of page.

When you get out and about, you see all types of bike and bikers with all sorts of different tastes,  which is a good thing, after all, if we all rode the same bikes and dressed the same, the bike world would be a very boring place indeed. But you know what really eats my lunch? The More is Better Brigade. This is a select band of people who obviously have large amounts of cash, but are also blessed with an astonishing ability to spend it unwisely. Usually found wherever you see a clutch of Yuppie owned Harleys or those Gold Wing Aspenshed things, you can easily spot their bikes by the huge whippy aerials and marker poles. Straying closer you find a poor unsuspecting bike laden with all sorts of dreadful tat. Small change holders, coke can holders, and the compulsory highway pegs mounted on front crash bars, for that cool riding position that any overworked gynaecologist will be familiar with. Then you get chrome grills and bumper rails all over the shop along with enough lights to illuminate the Golden Gate bridge this Christmas. Add a couple of novelty mudflaps depicting Yosemite Sam and the words "Back off,"  and a matching trailer,and you have something to be proud of.... No, no, no, no... NO! Get a life! How do people with such dreadful taste ever buy a bike in the first place? Well I reckon these are particularly sad types who judge people by their possessions, and see a bike as a rack to hang a shed load of expensive looking baubles on to impress the neighbours. Then they go out and meet similar sad types, so you end up with a convoy of the things obstructing the highway as they pootle along at 50 mph so every one can see 'em. Now I am being a tad unfair here, as some of these people rack up some huge mileages going to widget rallies and the like, but I just can't see why they do it. True genius is often displayed in simplicity of design and construction, emptying the contents of a chrome catalogue over your bike is not very clever and just shows how superficial you really are. 'If it is shiny, then it must be good' seems to be their mantra. I would hate to see these peoples houses, I bet their gardens are full of little gnomes, and the bridges over the fish pond would make you hurl over the plastic lillies in no time. Their record collections and soft furnishings would probably turn your hair grey too. However, I did once meet a belting chap who had a full dress Wing covered in tacky crap. But this guy was alright in my book 'cos he'd matt blacked the lot. As he explained, he wanted a comfortable long hauler and this bike was at a good price, he just couldn't be bothered to remove all the junk, let alone waste time cleaning it all, so he took a large brush to it and now other Wingers don't talk to him. Me.... I loved it.  Top of page. 

Certain items from the Howling Mess catalogue. Howling is justly famous for his custom building exploits, that he is skilled with the tin snips and pipe bender is beyond doubt. But, he has chosen to market some of his designs for Joe public to equip their bikes with. Some of these bits are of an unbelievable beauty and quality, a hub for a spoked front wheel is a work of art that I would never dream of fitting to a grubby old motorbike, and some of the front end assemblies are of a similar beauty. But, oh dear me, wander further through the catalogue and you find air boxes and some of the worst looking mirrors you will ever see. Old Howling must have been bored one day and went and rattled an ugly bush and these bits fell out. The air filter boxes are truly vulgar to look at and to me at least, bear few signs of design skills or thought. The same with the mirrors. The shape, all droopy and angular at the same time, is repulsive, yet, there are bikers out there who happily pay the (very) silly money being asked for these things. At least Dick Turpin wore a mask when he robbed honest folk of their money. These bikers have been sucked into the 'must have some billet' scam by the sight of all those show bikes in the glossy mags these days.  Top of page. 

Leather Chaps. These are ok if you plan to ride across Death Valley, or the Nullarbor plain, off road, and need protection, and a cooling breeze. But in England? I don't think so! Many bikers are now wearing them over here as they strive to copy American bikers, and that is surely the only reason an Englishman would wear 'em, we don't need them here! Is it cold out? Then wear leather jeans, if it's hot then a pair of Levi's does the job.  If it's raining, then nylon overtrousers are the solution. The worst thing for me about  getting caught in the rain is not having wet knees, but having a wet crotch. The rain hits my leather jacket, runs down to my jeans and soaks in. Result? Cold, wet, shrivelled, trouser furniture. Not nice, and not to mention the fact that I look like I've just wet myself, and walking around a warm service area with your crotch steaming away is very embarrassing. Chaps do nothing to prevent this. Nor do they keep 'Big Jim and the Twins' warm when the weather is cold. No, I can't see the point, and the bikers I've seen hereabouts wearing them, including a fringed pair with conchos, look just a tad ridiculous. Very Village People in fact. And as if all that wasn't enough, you can now get leather 'cod pieces' that cover up the bits that leather chaps miss out. If you need to buy one of these, you should've bought leather jeans in the first place.

Thinking about it, I don't even know why bikers wear chaps at all, cowboys used them to protect their legs from chafing from the horse and from contact with prickly bushes and the like. Bikers don't suffer from the first problem, and if you suffer from the second, you've crashed . Even the term 'leather chaps' is a source of embarrassment on this side of the Atlantic, as leather chaps  are usually burly rump jumpers with big moustaches who see a public convenience as a 24 hour, one stop singles bar. If I dropped my keys while wearing chaps, I'd kick 'em all the way home before bending down to pick them up I can tell you. Either that, or I'd buy one of those cod pieces and line  the back of it with a titanium bash plate, and check it regularly for dents. (not that I hang around with that sort you understand, I'm happily married - or so my wife tells me - thank you very much). Interestingly enough, there was a column in a British bike mag on the same subject recently, (after this appeared I might add, I don't rip off other peoples ideas). The writer of said column told of an amusing viewpoint on the subject. He reckoned he can't look at a biker wearing these things now without smiling, not since his girlfriend said that you just know that at some point, the wearer has stood bear assed naked in front of a mirror, wearing only his chaps to see how he looked with his marital tackle hanging out. I bet she was right too. Now, girls wearing chaps, especially when viewed from behind, now that is something entirely different.  Top of page.

A Few Accessories. Most deserving of a place in 'The Bin' is that awful creation of Craig Vetter. A handlebar screen..... with wings? Jeezuss is it gruesome. This thing looks like the result of a bird strike involving a large buzzard, God only knows who would actually fit one of these things to their bike. I don't know what Mr Vetter puts in his coffee, but it must be past it's sell by date.

Nice.......

Another 'must have' is the auxiliary fuel tank cunningly disguised as a tool roll. Yeah, really useful. And how about boot bras? What? Yup, boot bras, a leather wrap around thing that you put over your boot so the gearchange doesn't mark your Gucci loafers. Oh please.

Billet air cleaner covers, mirrors, choke knobs, footboards etc. Some of these items are truly despicable to look at, yet loads of bikers can't get their drinking vouchers out fast enough in the race to have something... anything... cool on their bike. More fool them. And to think I have not yet mentioned fake kickstart levers and fake hand changes. Not worth the effort really, as any one with a modicum of taste and common sense can see these as being particularly stupid items that only the terminally daft would stick on their bike. If I find any of these in my sock next Christmas, there will be the most dramatic murder in Lapland of a popular childrens character, and his merry elves, the world has ever seen.

And here's one for Virago owners, Shovel Head lookalike, bolt on rocker boxes and fake pushrod tubes! If you don't believe me, I'm afraid you missed the photographic evidence that appeared on this very page, a few months back. So, you will have to take my word for it. Is anyone really sad enough to fit these bits of cheap tin to their bike? I hope not, not even Sad Sandy McSad, the truly sad Scotsman, would be seen dead on a bike fitted with trash like this.  Top of page. 

Japanese Harley Clones. Yeah, lets have a pop at the Harley look a likes. If the Japs want to build cruisers as bikes in their own right then fine, and if you want one, that's fine too. But they shouldn't try and copy Harleys, especially when they reproduce the...er...duff parts of Milwaukee's finest. I'm sure most Harley riders would prefer better brakes for a start, some of the Softails couldn't outbrake a cross channel ferry, and I'm damn sure we don't want the ignition switch down by our left knee or right buttock. But that is Harley for you. So why do the Japs have to copy these dubious features? O.K, pin sharp brakes can be a handful with high bars and a raked front end, but fitting lousy brakes to a cruiser in the pursuit of copying Harleys is just daft. The same goes for the 'fake' airboxes, primary covers, horns etc that some of these Jap clones have. I'd feel very silly riding around on something with fake bits on it that are trying to convince me, or the rest of the world, that it is really a Harley. By all means buy one, if that is the kind of thing that sparks your plugs, just don't pretend that your cruiser is really a cheap Harley. The way I see it there is no substitute, only poor imitations. So buy a Jap cruiser that doesn't slavishly copy Harleys, and be happy that with your bike, what you see is what you get. One of these Harley clones has a 'Fat Bob' tank, complete with (false) fuel caps either side of the speedo. Trouble is, the (tiny) fuel tank is actually under the seat. It's under the seat, because the carb and airfilter live under what appears to be the fuel tank. Well, if they live under there, what's that round piece of chromed plastic doing sat on the right side of the engine? That's an empty, round, plastic box, put there to look like a Harley carb/airbox. It's all a pile of cheap, imitation, crap, that just makes a monkey out of the owner. Truly pathetic.  Top of page. 

A couple of contenders here for ugliest bike, including the newly launched superbike from Suzuki, but first the  BMW R1200C.  Now there is good ugly, and bad ugly. BMW's own R1100GS is ugly, but it is good ugly. The big trailster has real in your face looks, and how many bikes do you know that have two front mudguards? But the R1200C? now here we have a truly ugly bike. This is bad ugly. Not since the heady days of the CX500 and XZ550 has a bike made me choke on my Rice Krispies quite as violently as when I first saw a picture of BM's latest. (Yes, I owned a CX '5', I could forgive its looks too, as it was a great long distance bike). The colour picture showed some cool dude hanging out, hoping to pull, whilst sat astride a piece of beige bathroom furniture, or so it would appear. Fat chance I'd say. Most girlies would think his macho machine had just been in a seriously calamitous accident with a toilet ware delivery truck, it looks that odd. And surely James Bond wouldn't really choose one of these ugly objects when he could have a Triumph Speed Triple instead. Triumph.... your PR department is slacking, Mr Bond on a German bike? Ian Fleming would be spitting fire.

And now, hot on the heels/wheels of the ugly R1200C, comes the Suzuki Hayabusa.  Not content with having a tilt at the ugliest bike prize, they are going the whole nine yards by making it the World's fastest, ugliest bike, (restricted to 186 mph apparently....and that, like Monica Lewinsky in an Indy car, is high speed ugly), so if you get bored, you can ride off and spoil the view in someone elses town in half the time it'd take on the Bimmer. And further more, they've given it the World's daftest name. (Though the Harley 'Bad Boy' must've come close).  As if all that wasn't enough, I now read that if you do use the performance of this...thing, you can expect a rear tyre to last little more than 500 miles! Can you imagine the scene at your local tyre depot? "Hey fella, do ya have to keep parking that thing out front every week, it's scaring away my customers" or "Give me a rear tyre for the Hayabusa, hang on, better make that two, I might want to go out tonight." I can see bike thieves picketing Suzuki dealers, "Hey, we're trying to make a living here, you guys expect us to steal....that?" Lord help us, the Japanese have lost the plot big time on this one, (and so have I it seems, but wait 'til you see one ferchrissakes...) will there be room in the 'Guinness Book of Records' for this  festival of superlatives I ask myself. Dunno, but I hope none of the other manufacturers try to top that lot, really I do...

Now, sarcasm and silliness aside, the Uglybusa and Suzuki deserve their place in the Bin for a far more serious reason. Suzuki issued a recall a while ago to fix a cam chain problem. Good show. Now they've just issued another recall for the same problem again. Apparently the modified tensioner can allow the cam chain to jump the sprockets possibly causing the engine to seize. Nasty. So Suzuki have instructed riders not to rev it hard or suddenly accelerate or decelerate, and to stick below 5,000 revs until they can get to a dealer. But wait, there is worse news to come. There have been several instances of the rear sub frame collapsing onto the rear wheel, which given the telephone number speeds this thing is capable of, could be a little inconvenient. No, actually, it is bloody dangerous. Suzuki have said it is because owners have fitted hard bags to the bikes,  and the bike -a sports tourer don't forget - isn't designed to carry luggage (!), but one bike failed just through the weight of a pillion. Because Suzuki have decided to shift the blame elsewhere, they are at the current time, not issuing a recall for the frame. Instead they are making some heavy duty steel sub frames available for riders to fit, at the owners expense, if they wish. That's the cost of the rear frame plus about 5 hours labour to fit it. What a caring company they are eh? They issue recalls for a reliability problem, but when it comes to the safety of the riders aboard their products, they're not interested, despite the fact that by producing the replacement frame, (and surprisingly quickly too, could it be they were expecting this trouble?), they are surely acknowledging there is a problem. Now I think this stinks. They are happy to take your wedge but don't want to know when their product nearly kills you. Personally, I wouldn't give them the drips off my nose, let alone buy a bike from them.  Top of page. 

Now here is something that is surely the result of mind altering drugs, The Enfield Robin.  Take one Madras built Enfield and throw away the engine, after all, it is far too powerful. Then take a single cylinder, Japanese made, Robin, a diesel no less, and lob that in the unsuspecting frame instead. Result? A small bike that sounds like a London Taxi, but does inter galactic mileages to a tank full of fuel. Sound good? Oh, the performance. Ah yes, well, lets just say that the Enfield Robin makes the performance of a road roller seem frisky in comparison. Now I can't see the point here at all. I suppose if you live in the Outer Hebrides or some back water in Alaska, it may have it's uses. But on our overcrowded roads, you really need something with at least a hint of performance. Never mind that, what about the hassle at filling stations? "Oi, dickhead, you're putting diesel in your bike" etc. Some people are forever looking for answers to questions that no one in their right mind would think of asking. I don't know, they tell me that you can achieve wonders with a few tablets and a bit of therapy these days, then along comes someone who really is away with the pixies.  Top of page. 

Now the Enfield Diesel is pretty grim stuff, but my nomination for the World's worst motorcycle, ever, goes to the Neval Minsk 125. For those who have never heard of these first prize piles of junk,  they were Soviet built two strokes, imported into England in the late seventies/early eighties. The only good thing about these bikes was as cheap transport to the nearest landfill site, and then having something to throw in once you got there. Like all Russian vehicles, these things were of heavy duty construction and very robust. The owners manual advised owners to take their Neval to the nearest authorised blacksmith for servicing - probably. They weighed a ton, which didn't help the poor owner in his struggles to wring a decent cruising speed out of the thing. This damned machine vibrated like hell, controls were incredibly nasty to use, and incidental fixtures and fittings fell off with alarming regularity . Sitting at traffic lights with the wind behind you was not recommended as you became enveloped in a stinky blue haze that you could smell on your bike clothing for days afterwards. I first encountered one of these instruments of Satan when I worked in a Honda dealer. The incontinent Neval sat amongst the rows of gleaming Hondas in a puddle of petrol and oil from it's leaky petrol taps, as people visibly winced when casting an eye over it. "A turd in a bowl of strawberries" was one remark made by a customer. No one wanted it. We couldn't give it away, and if you ever see one of these things, you'll know why.  So we used the evil Neval as a shop runabout, but even a bicycle would have been more popular amongst the staff. It's one saving grace was novelty value, if you bump started the thing backwards, it ran backwards, something that provided, oh... at least half an hour's amusement. This despicable device remained unsold the whole time I was employed at this shop, and was still there when the place later went bankrupt. However, I can take solace in the fact that the wretched thing was probably turned into several drain covers, or lobbed down the nearest disused mineshaft long ago. Whatever it's fate, I just wish I could have been there to see it.  Top of page. 

The Harley Heritage Springer Good Old Boy....thing. Now there are a few bikers out there who like this concho fest on two wheels. Me, I hate it. It is gaudy in the extreme, from it's huge whitewalls to it's fringes and chrome doodads scattered about all over the damn place. This 'retro' kick that is sweeping the world is ok up to a point, but it is far better to own the real thing. Like the Springer? Well go and get yourself a Knuckle or Panhead with all the trimmings instead. Much classier. I love '55 Chevy's, ( Harrison Ford's in American Graffiti, or better yet, the grey '55 in Two lane Blacktop, now that is classy...), but if GM build a modern replica I shall save my pounds and pennies and buy the genuine article instead. The Heritage Springy Concho is just a bit over the top for my conservative tastes I'm afraid. It also smacks of marketing men rubbing their grubby mits in glee, as they have successfully produced a marketing entity instead of a motorcycle. All it needed was a little hype, and the showrooms are full of people waving large sums of money in the rush to buy this paragon of bad taste. As good a reason for the existence of matt black paint as you will ever find in my book. And, any owners of these things out there, be warned. My wife has taken to carrying a large pair of scissors around with her, so she can practice her hairdressing skills on all those fringes. Top of page. 

Old Duffers and the 'Classic' Brigade. You know the sort, you park up, only to see some old ruin hobbling over with a big grin on his face, and then you get the standard issue lecture along the lines of "Back in my day boy I used to do 200 miles each way, just to get to work. Used to strip my bike down at the roadside and rebuild it with whatever came to hand. My old Rudge Ruptured Rabbit was a great bike....100 miles to a gallon of swamp gas and bat droppings 'cos petrol were'nt invented in them days. Give your Harvey Dickinson a run for it's money it would". Oh good grief. They harp on about the good old days and how we youngsters have never had it so good, and of course they are right.......the gits. One such old duffer wrote into one of the magazines moaning on about how we all think modern bikes are so clever, and how his A10 BSA could challenge any modern bike on the road. Yeah right mate, your tablets are wearing off....an A10 against a Jap 600, or 1100 even? The only thing the ancient Beesa could challenge for would be the "Spreading the component parts of the engine across the road" contest. And woe betide the owner of a 'classic' bike if the damn thing is not 100% original. "Excuse me laddie, do you know your spokes are one third of a millimetre too thick for that year of Huffcombes Flying Penis" etc. However I do like the people who use old bikes as they were intended, and actually ride the things. And I like the 'mickey takers' even more. These are the people who, having joined the Vincent owners club or similar, announce their plans to chop an immaculate example of the breed on a packed club night. Yeah, get those hack saws out and watch the duffers turn blue with apoplexy.  Top of page. 

What next? Ah yes, Greenies.  I hate them. I hate 'em with a passion. These holier than thou, holier than me, sandal wearing, yoghurt eating, organic vegetable growing, urine drinking, natural child birthing, beard wearing,  tree hugging, 'modern parenting', non smoking, non drinking, non bonking, anti roads, anti building, anti technology, friends of the earth, friends of the planet, friends of the endangered plant, friends of the Polar Ice Cap, critics of the car, critics of the motorcycle,  critics of you, critics of me, critics of anything that results in fun....these people make me mad! AAAArrrgggghh....get me a gun... quick! If these self appointed saviours of the planet have their way there would be no cars or bikes, (except for a selected few). Using a motor vehicle for pleasure would be banned outright. We would all pedal cycle everywhere, smiling inanely at each other in our mutual happiness, as we live the healthy life that so obviously comes from wearing ill fitting jumpers and open toed sandals. And, after a hard days work hugging trees, we would all retreat to our respective communes, where our children would have happy names like Saphire Sunglow or Moon Harvest, yet suffer from Rickets, Scurvy and Ringworm. We would all sit round the communal fire eating dandelion and nettle soup, singing songs of peace whilst rubbing herbal remedies on our trenchfoot infections. Give me a break please! No....give me a missile launcher instead and I'll indulge in some constructive population pruning at the next Greenie conference. I may get life, but I'd rather eat prison food than a diet of lentils and poorly formed carrots. Mind you, I'm not entirely happy with the way things are going either, the 'open road' is a thing of the past here in the South of England these days. And it would be a shame if future generations grew up without being able to see a real live elephant or something, it's just that the solutions offered by the greenies are a little extreme to say the least. Oh, one other thing I should mention, I've got a beard, but that's because I'm a lazy git and I hate having a cold chin.  Top of page. 

The Mainstream Bike Press. Bike magazines these days are getting pretty repetitive and dull to say the least. Then again, I suppose that is down to the bikes they feature. Each month sees large photo spreads of the latest plastic projectile being thrashed and trashed in amongst a few lines of text on how the redesign of the air box gives 1.3257 extra bhp and therefore makes this bike the best in it's class. Ok, these bikes are popular, but there is an awful lot more to biking than getting your knee down or pulling a wheelie, something I grew out of when I sold my bicycle. By concentrating on the latest, fastest, tupperware, the magazines are mirroring the bikes they feature, shallow, characterless and instantly forgettable. There is one exception to the above however, and that is 'Bike'. Whilst still featuring the plastic fantastic, they still pack the mag with all sorts of features about bikes and biking, and are a welcome breath of fresh air amongst the other bland, glossy, bike mags on the shelves.

The mainstream Harley press is not much better either. Most of these magazines seem to be in the factory's back pocket, and some of the grovelling that goes on is stomach turning to say the least. The general articles are crap too, lots of photos and a little text on things like how to fit a pair of live to ride mirrors - "We took our bike to Dullsville H-D where their mechanic, Dale Dungweed Jnr was given the task of installing the new mirrors. Dale started by disconnecting the bikes battery....." Articles comparing exhaust systems or carbs, are usually just a collection of press releases cobbled together and some of the columns are pretty insipid too. Nothing controversial, no real points of view, just a few lines of rubbish written by someone obviously highly skilled at balancing on fences. Either that, or how a quick trip on his bike to the local burger joint turned into some monumental journey of self discovery and soul searching for the writer, because a pedestrian smiled at him, or something equally minor. (This sort of person is pure hell at parties, by the way. They examine and analyse, and go into deep and meaningful thought over trivial, every day happenings, like finding a dead mouse one morning, while life in the real world passes them by. Hey, chuck the bloody mouse over your neighbours wall, and get on with life you intellectual prat.) So what if someone smiled at the humbled columnist, he probably had his fly undone or was just grinning at his head to toe, factory authorised, attire. No need to get mystical about it. Just smile back, (or not, if you're feeling mean and moody), game over. End of story. Stimulating writing is one thing, boring everyone with how your life has been changed by some minor irrelevance, and how it should be a lesson to us all, is just pompous, self indulgent claptrap. The only lesson I learnt from all this, was not to read such sickly, romantic nonsense so soon after eating my breakfast. Hang on though, maybe this article worked after all, as it certainly provoked a reaction from me. Hmmm....

Lavatory arrangements in France. Now France is an amazing country to visit, and we, along with a lot of other English bikers, spend a lot of time touring there, and most agreeable it all is too. But the French have some peculiarities all of their own. Like allowing neighbouring countries to invade them on a regular basis for instance. You'd think they'd learnt after the first time wouldn't you. Nowadays a popular passtime for the French is burning the contents of English trucks, something they practice a lot these days. It must also take years of practice to cultivate the combined 'shoulder shrug and grunt' too, in fact I think they teach it in schools, along with  courses in 'Surliness for waiters and shop assistants,' and the all important 'How to dangle a lit cigarette vertically from your lips during conversation'. Grasping the basics regarding clothing seems beyond them too. Give them a sweater or sweatshirt, and they drape it over their shoulders, then tie the sleeves in a knot in front of them. Very odd. However this ignorance of the mechanics involved in wearing a simple article of clothing is not just confined to the French . A baseball cap has to be the simplest of garments made, yet half the teenagers round here fail to put them on the right way round. This leads to another interesting phenomenon, worn correctly a baseball cap is just that, a baseball cap. Worn backwards and it becomes an instant I.Q. diminisher, rendering the wearer incapable of coherent speech and logical thought, and with an intelligence level similar to that found in a puddle of stagnant ditch water. Back to the French though, and next we have personal hygiene and pride of appearance, or rather, the lack of it. Growing arm pit hair until you can tuck it into your waistband seems to be a national hobby amongst the women, while the men make do with cultivating fungus on the foodstains they gather on the front of their t-shirts. But it's the 'personal download' arrangements that concern me here.(At last!) When you are a bloke, the world is your urinal, you can go virtually anywhere, but we do at least usually go behind a tree or a bush or something. Not so the French male, who is often to be seen stood beside the roadside in a cloud of steam, one step from his car, just openly watering the scenery. The trick here of course, is to sound your horn as you pass, and shout "Bonjour" thus ensuring the hapless Frenchman will turn round in mid stream, and lubricate his boots, trousers, or car seat. But perhaps they do this because they don't like using their public toilets. And this is where we biking types come in, because sooner or later, we need to use the thunder jug, be it at a roadside pull in, or on a campsite, and the first visit to a French loo can catch you by surprise. You walk in and are confronted by a hole in the floor, with a nobbly bit of concrete either side. These nobbly bits are where you put your feet, just to avoid any confusion you understand. There is a flush of course, the button is mounted on the back wall a couple of feet beyond the hole. Now, this can be a challenge even to us blokes, even if we are only paying a short visit, you've got to be a good shot I can tell you. But the fun, if you can really call it that, starts when you wish to....stay a little longer shall we say. You have to supply your own paper materials, so don't take a roll in, there is nowhere to put it, and the floor is not nice. You need to find one of those boxes of flat paper, because you are going to have to grip it in your teeth. Then you have to arrange yourself over this small hole in the floor, without letting your lowered trousers contact said floor, which is not easy at all, and the back wall is too far away to lean against, which raises the most important point, how do old people cope? They must have to take a friend in with them to hang onto while they dangle their wobbly butts, hoping they don't miss. When you've achieved the impossible and completed the operation, don't forget to wipe your feet on something as you leave, like the grass verge, a picnickers blanket, or a locals dog. Not being awash with surplus cash, we biking types generally have to use these types of facilities often, we can't afford swanky hotels, and anyway, camping is, in every other way, much more fun. But these waste disposal systems have the capacity to really spoil your day, especially after you've indulged in a bottle or two of the local wine. Given that a litre of wine can be cheaper than a bottled beer, or even a can of coke, then you will do this, frequently. So, be warned, if you are planning a bike trip to France at any time, best get some practice in before you go, and if you have a bad back, take a very close friend.

I'm feeling saucy tonight, so let's get back to the good 'ol Motor Company again, and their range of smellies. Christmas used to be something to look forward to, now I dread it. Sooner or later, my dear old Gran is going to totter into the chemists and be confronted by a shelf load of 'Hot Road' after shave, and I'm going to find a load of Harley toiletries in my sock come Christmas morning. This, will be a bad day. Poncy, smelly, lotions and potions, are not my cup of tea anyway, but I'd hate this stuff. Anyway, the names do not apply to us British bikers surely. We need names that are more evocative of our brand of biking, so may I suggest 'Hanger Lane Diesel Spillage' for the after shave, and 'Wet Ring Road' shower gel and 'Greasy Helmet and Nicotine odour' shampoo? 'Despatch Rider' body lotion and 'Gravel Rash' shaving foam might be contenders, and 'Black Cab U-Turn' washing powder (for those sudden, stubborn, understains...) could be a good idea too. O.K., this isn't a moan, just a bit of mickey taking, but even I can't moan all the time.  Top of page. 

Other things that annoy me too. (I really ought to worry less about what other people do you know.)

People who fit mudflaps to the outside of the mudguard. Oh for heavens sake!

People who paint their blood group on their helmet. (Obviously this does not apply to racers) Here in England, paramedics ignore blood group info anyway, as they will do their own test, so why do some bikers do it?

People who never clean certain parts of their bike because it would appear they don't know how to, such as engines, leather panniers, and any bit you can see but can't reach with a grubby finger.

People who lube their chain on the outside run of the rear sprocket, and then go for a ride. Yeah right, really effective that.

Groups who can't organise themselves enough to keep together, usually led by a dedicated speedjunkie on the latest Anthrax 1100.

On the other hand, I don't particularly appreciate those that hold you up either. The ones that don't need to fill up when the rest do, but then want to stop and fill up 10 miles later.

Any middle aged bloke who buys a Harley for the rufty tufty image. Tragically sad people.

Anyone who thinks I ride a bike because I can't afford a car.

And finally I myself served time in 'The Bin', for failing to recognise the virtues of Italian bikes, in my rambling page describing why I like Harleys. Well I was happy to put things straight and I got out early, only to consign myself to another sentence for failing to notice cracks in my disc rotors. What a twerp!

And now we have a Contributions Dept!

Kicking off, we have Samantha from Australia, and a complaint I think we can all identify with:

"To your 'Bin of Shame', I would add: adults who allow their children to use motorcycles parked in public places as climbing equipment. Fair dinkum, this pisses me off sooooo much. It seems to be worst during school holidays. I wish I had ten cents for every time I've come out of a shopping centre and found up to three horrible sticky children crawling all over my GSX (yeah, orright, to you it's a Flying Teapot, to me she's my beautiful little baby) with parent standing by, smiling indulgently. Ask them to "get your offspring the hell of my bike", and they look at you as though you're mad - "It's all right, they're not doing any harm". Hells bells! It's usually impossible to get them to understand that there's anything wrong with this. (Once, I did follow a woman and her three sticky horrible children back to their car, whereupon I seated myself on the bonnet and put hand smears all over the windscreen. She got the message.) What's the bet, if one of the little shites ever pulled the bike over on top of itself, the parent would scream blue murder, and be trying to drag me into court and screw me for every cent I've got....."

Yup, this kind of thing obviously happens the World over. I've suffered it, as have most of my mates it seems. Sam's method of retaliation seems to be a good way of getting the message across too. Most car drivers are proud and protective of their vehicles,  however mundane, but a bikers relationship to his/her bike goes beyond mere pride, yet these idiots think it's ok to let their sticky fingered offspring climb all over your bike, twisting the throttle, flicking switches and smeering polish or drawing pretty pictures in the dust and dirt that may be on it. They never seem to do it when you've just parked up with a flesh sizzlingly hot engine and pipes ready to greet grubby juvenile digits either. So what can we do? Well, there was a photo in a magazine here recently which showed one bikers anti theft device which would also work well in this situation and that was a metal strap with a large chrome spike attached, padlocked around his seat. Yup, that'd work alright. You can also buy those little stickers with "If you value your life as much as I value my bike, don't f*ck with it" and if you don't mind displaying one or two of those, then the use of the 'f' word is often enough for a parent to steer their little horrors away sharpish. But, if they are not to your taste, then look around your neighbourhood for electrical sub stations and the like. In England they bear a rather nice line in "Danger of Death - Keep Off" stickers which look rather cool on a bike, as do "Tampering with this Equipment can result in Instant Death or Serious Injury." Not that I could possibly encourage anyone to break the law and steal any of these you understand, that'd be very irresponsible. Top of page. 

Right, enough ranting, I'm off to spin do-nuts in the Greenies organic veggie patch,

See Ya!   

E-mail me with your own nominations for a quick trip to The Bin: mickmjs@aol.com or

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