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Blog about Nothing

It has been a little while since I have written on the blog so thought I’d make a quick contribution. It’s now far too wintery to be riding around on C90’s but Bon has managed to buy 2 anyway. Thats right...2! He found some dude online, once again based in Southampton who has a shed full of old shit relating to scooters. He bought 1 MOT’d and intact replica of Maurice and 1 knackered old streak of piss with bits dangling off it. Chucked in were what seemed like 30 or 40 engines that had various parts missing and stuff, but I think its Bon’s idea of a good time so thats alright by me.

Either way things are looking a bit C90 again. I re-upholstered my seat and have had Red C90 MOT’d, even bought him some new white legshields. I am hoping that we will be able to plan some escape for next year.

There shall be no stupid philosophical musings because I just don’t have the energy. I’m thinking of starting another blog related to that kind of thing alone anyway because it seems a bit weird that every time I want to express some thought or theory I have to relate it to C90’s to fit it on this blog. One day I’ll get a brain and structure all this nonsense anyway, release a book around christmas time with a ridiculous cartoony cover depicting like maybe Socrates or Aristotle kaning a C90 around a Greek Island in a toga. I imagine it’ll be called something like ‘Moped’s and Minds: Enlightened Thinking for the Nathan Barley Generation’, bleaurgh.

The more disenfranchised I get with the world without the daily task of bum-aching, whinge inducing, snail-paced scooter riding the more I wonder what is wrong with the world that it honestly seems like a viable alternative.

Over and out! What a caffeine fueled load of old bollocks

Theft

Two blogs in a very short space of time. I hope the few people who are reading this don’t have heart attacks. That morning I wrote the previous one, I was having other thoughts that I just thought I would like to share.

The topic is theft. We will leave aside for the sake of simplicity the theft conducted by organised bodies, legal or illegal, and focus more on random acts of petty theft (although much well thought out ‘white collar’ theft is indeed petty). Since C90 Dreams was a gurgling baby of an idea the three of us have collectively suffered roughly 4 or 5 attempted thefts (the simple attempt to cut locks with bolt cutters or hacksaws), 1 theft and recovery (Bon’s Maurice ended up in a graveyard with bits missing last year), 1 actual theft (Jamie’s first C90 stolen from outside our place of work) and most recently 1 brutal torching.

The most tangible impact of this is that 2 C90’s have been permanently lost. Jamie’s stolen one was never to be seen again, anyone that reads the Oxford Mail or Oxford Star may already know this. It was front page news on one of them (I forget which). Bon’s faithful Maurice however, was burnt to cinders the night we got back from our trip to the New Forest (September 2009).

The implications of Jamie’s lost one were fairly minimal apart from in monetary terms. It was a week before we were due to set off for Greece but Jamie admirably took the bull by the horns and bought another one by scouring ebay the day after the theft. In the end no disruption was caused other than to Jamie's bank account. Maurice being burned to bits however, is a pretty significant event. That bike hadn’t been taxed since the 80’s when Bon acquired it in the Spring of 2008. He restored it to MOT standard and rode the fucker all the way to Greece and back at 40mph since it wouldn’t go any faster. When we got back he continued to work on the bike on and off for a year (never going more than 40mph, sorry Bon). Then, for absolutely no apparent reason that night after the New Forest, while we were all still on massive natural highs the bike was placed in the centre of the road and set on fire. He now has no bike. It wasn’t just a bike but an embodiment of the original idea, a signifier for everything that C90 Dreams has been about. All those who go inter-railing on gap years or around the world on planes rarely have that vehicle to shower love and meaning upon whenever one feels like it. It is a true shame, and it is massively massively shit.

The battle rages on. I went to pick my C90 up from Jamie’s a couple of weeks ago to take for a service and low and behold, the lock and chain was half severed by some bolt cutters, another failed attempt that next time could be a ‘success’. C90’s appear to be massively desirable trophies to fucking oiks who long to ride them around a field and set them on fire. It makes my blood boil. People leave their keys in the ignition in Greece and don’t fear this kind of treatment.

Get the fuck off my C90, get the fuck off Jamie’s C90 and when he has another one, get the fuck off Bon’s C90. Why do these little pricks want them so much? Do they know what they mean to this whole thing? Of course not. They don’t know anything because their brains are made of chips.

Bon with Maurice & my Red C90 having happier times at the foot of the Acropolis:

RIP Maurice

Ends in themselves

I have spent a reasonable amount of time lying in bed this morning doing a bit of musing on stuff and generally feeling a bit sorry for myself. This situation can sometimes call for an ipod exploration. Is there anything I can listen to that will sooth my aching bones? What I ended up with was a test video of one of the days just getting into the alps during our trip. I began to feel that sensation that I often get when my mental energy is truly focused on the trip. Now, I’m fully aware of the amount of time I’ve spent going on and on about the significance of the trip to me, but the feeling I had was immediate and very powerful. I proceeded to watch a little trailer I made around a year ago. I don’t mind admitting to whoever is reading this that I was welling up at this point. It may seem a little pathetic but really thinking about that stuff sends me somewhere else, somewhere where I truly value things for what they are.

Treating people as a means to an end happens all the time in ‘real life’. Our jobs depend on those kinds of relationships to allow us to flourish both emotionally and financially. Much of the philosophy of ethics makes an attempt to teach us the exact opposite, which is admirable of course but ultimately impossible much of the time. Using people is something that has just become part of our daily lives.

That ‘exercise in the ridiculous’ that occurred last summer however, was a shining beacon of an example for treating people simply as ends in themselves. During that trip I really did feel that much closer to friends and strangers alike. It honestly felt as though nothing was a given, everything was a bonus and that made me very happy. Our inane chit chat, petty arguments and acceptance of the fact that what we were doing was essentially meaningless brought us closer together and formed a kind of relationship where it felt as though nothing could go wrong. As a result, nothing did. I do hope that my fellow road dogs had a similar experience.

The general public played a huge part in my experience too. A freebie bolt fitting from a kindly frenchman in a motorbike garage, a community of four households in rural Italy on a Sunday afternoon asking around for the correct fuse for a bike almost 30 years old or a simple toot of the horn from a Greek guy warning us that the corner we’re about to hit is full of pot holes. Not to mention the woops and hollers of every nationality, race and gender in support of these three idiotic brits on pizza bikes. These things make me insanely happy. If nothing more significant happens in my life I may start to regale this blog with these stories, because they make me love things.

What a stupid and life affirming thing.

The weekend is almost upon us

This weekend...

The time is nearer...the weekend is almost upon us...MOT’s can wait and just because we haven’t had an outing together beyond 1 or 2 miles since last October it doesn’t mean we can’t make it a few miles more to the south coast (or there abouts) of our country with a tent and pair of pants attached. Eating as cheap as poss, drinking booze to numb the pain, talking in sleep and most importantly the sort of camaraderie that only happens once in a while. Personally I can’t wait. 

The weather could well be a bit bleak and the task at hand is strangely a little daunting considering the success of such a much more mammoth journey in 2008. Obviously the other thing is that we’ve no idea where we are going to go yet. I think probably the best idea is to get a few beers in Friday night and get a map out. Its not like we haven’t done it before.

For 3 days at least....Street Hawk, Teen Wolf and The Guy From The Sweeny shall be free again.

For C90!!!!

The Wrath Of Poseidon C90 Dreams

The Wrath Of Poseidon.

General ramblings

Its a beautiful summers day and I am on the Oxford Tube heading to see my brother in Brixton. This should be a great thing really, but it has only just dawned on me that it would be the most perfect day possible to ride C90, and I am in a constant state of regret right now, just wishing I had taken this opportunity to cruise my way there. I know I had a bad experience last time but it really shouldn’t put me off having another lone trip to the capital and I feel a bit of a loser, a bit ashamed. What would my C90 think? He’s probably not going to be speaking to me when I get back since it was such a perfect chance to stretch his legs, he is a hardcore tourer after all and must be ridden great distances and for as long as possible.

I can only hope that Bon, Jamie and I finally get round to doing this reunion trip that we’ve been talking about. I think we are planning a little weekend away to the coast very soon. It will be an honour to ride with my C90 brethren again and I do long for it.

Editing the movie is going pretty well. It has taken a long time to get used to editing with Final Cut and the best techniques to using it but I am becoming more adept at it daily and have tried to let it consume me. The results so far however, are a little worrying. The entire production now weighs in at a mammoth 4 or 5 hours, and there must be some severe culling of boring clips involving riding, eating lunch or winging. We will probably keep a ‘directors cut’ for ourselves just so that we have a record of our adventure and can still relive the moments that we find hilarious even though nobody else would get it. Saying that, we are humans, and humans have a lot of things in common with each other even if they pretend not to. I suppose people might like listening to Jamie moan about how chocolate in France isn’t chocolate its always Nutella, or watch Bon fiddle with the arrangement of his bags, or witness my birds nest hairdo mumble incoherently from exhaustion atop a ferry.

Bring on the Cannes Film Festival!!!