So… unfortunately I’m working today and tomorrow. I leave home on the bike at my usual time, 06:30, and head towards Junction 11 of the M4.

As I take the on-ramp I notice that traffic is very light. So light in fact, that there are no other cars around. I indicate as usual, and move into lane 1, glancing over my shoulder (again as usual). No cars around at all.

Within seconds I’m at motorway speed. And the black car that appeared from nowhere in lane 2 suddenly remembered to put his lights on.

Then, going home, I’m approaching the Buckingham Palace intersection (the traffic light was green for me) when I see an obstacle in the road. It’s a man crossing the road (not even at the pedestrian crossing!) with two white Highland terriers in tow. I flicked my headlights to high beam to more clearly see what he was doing, AND HE STOPPED. I didn’t have time to find the horn button as I was too busy braking. He put his hand out palm forward to indicate I should stop. I pulled up a couple of metres from him and he calmly continued crossing the road. Amazing. I was too astounded to do anything else (by this time the traffic light had turned red).

With apologies to Robert Pirsig.

So, after work on Friday I went out for a drink with some of my work colleagues, to meet up with two former members of staff who had left the company’s employ. Not voluntarily you understand. The place we went to was only two stops away on the Circle & District Underground line. As I normally commute into London by motorcycle it had been ages since I last took the Tube. So there I was at the ticket window. “Return to Embankment, please”. The ticket was issued with my change. That’s when I thought something was wrong. Five Pounds Ten!! For travelling just two stops on the Tube?? Daylight Robbery! And the powers that be want more people to use Public Transport? I can see why!

Anyway, I didn’t stay long (I was driving after all). Got back to the office, got kitted up, and climbed on the bike. It didn’t start. Checked the fuses and fiddled with the wiring – managed to get it going. Of course it was raining heavily all the way down the M4. The bike coughed and died twice, but then immediately sprang into life again. Turned out it was a short in the starter relay:

So I’ve ordered a new one. Unfortunately it will only be available next week, so for the time being I’ve had to bodge things. Here’s the bodge:

Hey, it worked!

By the way, the gear lever arrived, so that has now been fitted and works fine.

I read on an Internet forum that it is advisable to once in a while check the gear lever mechanism of the Pan European motorcycle. Underneath the vehicle, it is exposed to road salt and spray, and if not looked after can cause clunky gear changes.

So last weekend I took it off. First of all one has to remove the belly pan in order to get access to the gear lever. Belly pan removed, I took the gear lever off. At least, that was the plan. As I undid the bolt holding the gear lever to the gearbox shaft, it sheared off. After some drilling, hammering, and swearing, I finally got the gear lever off the bike. Drilling the sheared bolt out of course damaged some of the threads, so I re-tapped them. During the re-tapping, the clamp mechanism broke in two. Some swift welding later, I had a usable gear lever again.

Apart from that, it was in pretty good condition anyway! I put it back on the bike and re-attached the belly pan.

However, this morning on my commute in to work, I needed to change down a gear. Pushing down on the lever with my left foot, I was surprised to find the lever gently subsiding underneath the bike. Still in 5th gear, I managed to take the next exit which happened to be a motorway service station. In the carpark I removed the belly pan and had a look at the gear lever. The bolt was missing, with the result that the clamp mechanism was just rotating around the gear shaft. Not carrying a stock of bolts with me, I called the AA.

An hour or so later the AA man arrived and from his toolbox produced an M6 bolt which he proceeded to fit. I was soon on my way again. The problem I then had was that the gear lever had been reattached at the wrong angle and was actually too high; to change gear I had to completely lift my foot off the footpeg to reach the lever!

So when I got home this evening I once again removed the belly pan and the gear lever. Reattaching it in the correct position, I tightened the bolt. Unfortunately this had the effect of splitting the clamp mechanism again.

I’ve ordered a replacement gear lever (found one on Ebay) but as a temporary fix I’ve solved the split clamp mechanism by using a radiator hose clamp.

It just shows, that old adage is quite true. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!

Well, I’ve spent the morning smelting and casting lead. Here I’m melting the lead in my £3 saucepan.

And here I’m pouring the melted lead into the moulds.

Now I just need to wait for the new fishing rod to arrive!

In all my years of shaving, there’s one aftershave which I particularly like. Safari by Ralph Loren. Very apt name too; on my previous visit to South Africa we visited one private game farm which had a tame young giraffe. This giraffe took a particular liking to me, so much so that I had to retreat to the safety of the bungalow whenever it was around.

But I digress. I ran out of aftershave and went to get some more. No luck. Every department store I visited had none in stock. Even looking on the Internet did not yield results; apart from a couple of half-empty bottles up for auction on Ebay. I eventually went on to Ralph Loren’s main website. Nope, not even available on there.

So I emailed their customer services asking them why they had stopped manufacturing it. I received a fairly prompt reply saying they still stocked it – all I had to do was visit one of their main stores (link to website containing their addresses provided).

So today I went into the Mayfair shop at No. 1 New Bond Street. After wandering around the shop for a bit I asked one of the senior sales staff. “Oooh, no, sir. We haven’t stocked that for ages. I think it’s been discontinued. Try a department store.”

Back at my desk I emailed Ralph Loren customer services, pointing out that either they had been misinformed, or the salesman’s information was incorrect. I asked if there was any way I could order the stuff from one of their stores in the States as I can’t buy it in this country and it’s not available from their website. Will have to see if they respond.

I may have to put a post on a US forum to which I belong asking if someone would buy it for me and post it over…

Update:
Customer Services did respond. No, it’s not discontinued. Please contact our Madison Avenue store in New York and they’ll be able to help.

So I called both stores in New York. Both of them informed me that they no longer manufactured this aftershave. Oh well, I’ll just have to find something else.

Growing up in Namibia (South West Africa as it was then), I did quite a bit of fishing. Every school holidays we’d head to the Skeleton Coast for a week. Aptly named; there were always skeletons on the beach. Seals, whales… by the way, there’s nothing quite like the whiff of a dead seal to make you hurriedly change from your preferred fishing spot.

We always caught quite a few fish – either what my Dad called “Salmon” (generic name Kabeljou, Argyrosomus coronus) or Steenbras (Lithognathus lithognathus). The occasional Galjoen (Coracinus capensis) made an appearance on the menu as well.

So I thought it was time I started fishing again. An exploratory trip to Selsey Bill revealed that I needed a better rod (the one I have is more suited to freshwater fishing) as well as more lead weights or sinkers. I attempted to mail-order a rod from www.aandifishingtackle.co.uk but after waiting nearly a month I cancelled the order. Their customer service leaves much to be desired. If you are thinking about buying from these people, don’t.

I eventually successfully ordered a new rod from www.fishingtackle.co.za – at least their customer service was excellent (and the rod worked out cheaper even with the postage! The sinkers proved to be a bit more difficult. I can’t find my favourite type anywhere. They’re sort of pear-shaped but with a flat bottom; ideal for fishing where there is a load of weed. So I’ll just have to make my own!

After a bit of research (I couldn’t find a ready-made mould either) I came across the website www.tomps.com and a quick email to them confirmed that for pouring lead, their high temperature RTV Silicone would do the job. I’ve just finished casting the first moulds; I’m making 4 oz and 5 oz sinkers, the 5 oz for me and the 4 oz for the Mrs! (she’s keen on fishing as well, one of the reasons I married her!)

The moulds have just set, and I’m now tempering the silicone by baking it in the oven. An hour at 50 degrees, then an hour at 100, then an hour at 150, then a final hour at 200. Once that’s done I’ll be ready to melt some lead! I have a portable Coleman stove (left over from my University camping days) which should do the trick – I purchased a £3 stainless steel milk saucepan in which to melt the lead.

I think once I’ve cast a few sinkers I will make a couple of triple moulds so I can cast 3 sinkers at once. I just need to wait for the post to arrive on Monday – I ordered a cast-iron pouring ladle off an Ebay seller.

(Update: I later managed to find the exact mould I wanted from www.fishingtackle.co.za).

Buckingham Place is a fairly quiet London street approximately 50 metres long. It is normally only used by through traffic when a brewer’s delivery lorry is making a delivery in Wilfred Street, preventing vehicles from taking their normal route into Westminster. The terraced houses have probably all been converted into offices, although it is possible that people still live on their uppermost storey. There are parking bays on the western side of the street. Even with parked cars, there is still room for two-way traffic. Just.

Four tall plane trees grace the street, one at the southern end. At 7.15 every morning they bear witness to a slightly unusual event. An oriental man, possibly Chinese, crosses Palace Street, heading towards Buckingham Place. He is in his late twenties, dressed in a T-shirt and beige baggy shorts. He has brown sandals on his feet and a dull orange carrier bag over his right shoulder, from which a tuft of some fur-like material protrudes. He stops in the centre of the southern end of the road, where he is bound to be run over by any vehicle turning into this narrow street. He lights a cigarette and then carefully, slowly, places the shoulder bag on the floor.

He dips his right hand into the shoulder bag, and carefully extracts a dog. About the size of a fox terrier, it is some sort of cross between a Pekingese and another indeterminate breed. Pointy snout, fairly long hair, and frankly looking rather unsure of itself. He attaches a blue lead to its collar and drags the unwilling animal forward. Slowly they walk the length of the street, still in the centre of the road. The dog stops to relieve itself once, twice. It’s a female.

Reaching the end of the street, the man stops and the dog gratefully sits down. Carefully the man picks her up with his right hand and cradles her under his arm. Turning around, he slowly strolls back to his starting point, thoughtfully puffing on his cigarette. He reaches the southern end of the street again and stops. Gently he places the dog on the road surface again, turns around, and once again drags the reluctant animal northwards.

Upon reaching the northern end of the street again, the dog again sinks to its haunches. Carefully he picks it up again in his right hand and cradles it under his arm. Again he turns around and strolls slowly back to his starting point, still carefully maintaining an equal distance from either pavement. He reaches the southern end of the street and puts the dog down once more. He then lowers the carrier bag and again conceals the animal within its depths, only the ears being visible. Walking briskly away he crosses Palace Street and returns from whence he came.

(Update: I think this is known as “Fang Shui”)

Anybody every wondered what those flashing signs on gantries over motorways mean? They certainly can’t have anything to do with speed limits.

A case in point. Last Thursday I was beetling down the M4 on my way home. The signs overhead started flashing “50”. So I slowed down a bit to around 65. All the other traffic was whizzing past. “Still, there must be a reason for this”, I thought to myself. The next lot of signs were flashing “40”. Not wanting to be rear-ended by approaching traffic, I stayed at 65. All the other traffic was still whizzing past. A few miles down the road the signs were once again flashing “50”. Still nobody took any notice. I sped up a bit. That was the end of the flashing speed limits (if that’s what they are – I think the Highway Code must have it wrong).

I think the controller in charge of the M4 traffic regulation switched them on the night before and went home.

The other fun thing that the traffic controllers do is set the signs flashing to, say, “50”. Everybody still drives at 70. A few miles down the road the signs will flash “40”. Everybody still drives at 70. Then you’ll see the sign flashing “END”. Everybody screeches to a halt.

Bizarre.

I wonder if mechanics have a problem when they go to parties or other social gatherings?

“Ooh you’re a mechanic! Could you just have a quick look at my car, it’s outside and needs an oil change.” I don’t think so.

So what is it about working in IT that makes every Tom Deakon Harry want you to fix their laptop/home pc? They start off by describing in minute detail just what it is that doesn’t work. Listening carefully, you pick up little nuggets of information here and there which, although intriguing, don’t actually point out what the problem is. Carefully worded questions then reveal that they’ve tried to install a friends’ copy of an operating system on a pc which should be in a museum. This sort of thing has led me to classify people from an IT perspective.

The Opportunist
“Oh, you work in IT? Whilst you’re here, I’ve been having a problem with my laptop. It won’t switch on. Can you have a look at it?” (Sure, working with computers 8 hours a day is just not enough, I’d like nothing better)

The Sidler
Generally you bump into this person at work; they come up to you and say very quietly “I’ve got a problem with my computer.” “Have you logged it with the helpdesk?” I normally ask.

“No, my computer at home. Every time I switch it on it takes ages looking for a network boot. How do I fix it?” So you try telling them how to disable network boot in the bios. You can see their eyes glazing over. You carefully explain how to enter the bios settings, pointing out that most pc manufacturers have different ways of doing this; pressing F10 or the delete key being just two of them. Then over the next week or so you find yourself trying to avoid the person, because every time you meet they say things like “I pressed F10 but nothing happened.”

The Blunt
“I’ve got a problem with my network at home. I’ve got my pc’s connected to my router but I can’t see the files on my wife’s computer from mine. Can you come around and have a look? I’ll pay you for your time.” (Gee thanks, I really enjoy earning £40 for what turns out to be two weekends’ work. Never again.)

The Good Samaritan
“My friend’s laptop just stopped playing sounds, any idea what could be wrong with it?”
Thinks: “Hah! I’ll get away with this one.”
Aloud: “Gosh, could be anything. I’d really need to see the laptop to be able to troubleshoot the problem.”
“Great, I have it in my car, I’ll just get it.”
Thinks: “Bugger!”
Turns out the friend had decided to have a tidy-up and used Add/Remove programs to get rid of unnecessary stuff. Like the Realtek sound drivers. “Realtek, what’s that? I’ve never used that program, so it can’t be any good. I’ll get rid of it.”
(Tell your “friend” to stop messing with stuff they don’t understand. That will be £100 please. Kerching.)

The Guilt-Ridden
“How do you do (insert very easy question here)”
Repeat at random intervals over a week or so with different questions. Then donate a bottle of whiskey as a thank-you for all the help. And very nice it was too, many thanks.

Now I just try to sidestep this sort of situation. “I’m sorry, I’ve no idea. You’ll need to take it back where you bought it.”

Use your mirrors, people. It’s what they’re there for. The M4 had a problem again on Friday evening with a couple of accidents and broken down vehicles, so there were long tailbacks. One of the advantages of being on a motorcycle is that at least you can filter between the lanes of queuing traffic.

It’s amazing though. Even with 220 Watts of driving lights on the front of my bike (240 Watts on high beam), vehicles don’t see me approaching. Either that or they DO see me approaching and decide that “because I’m stuck in traffic, I don’t see why I should let anyone else get past me.”
Fortunately I was only doing about 25 mph at the time.

So to the driver of the red car(no idea what make or model it was, I didn’t have time to identify it) whose vehicle is now missing a left-hand wing mirror, don’t worry about it. Seeing as you weren’t using it anyway you’re not going to miss it.

To all those other drivers who DO use their mirrors, and move their vehicles slightly away from the lane lines when stuck in a tailback, “Thank you.” We bikers aren’t asking you to leap out of the way, just stay in the middle of your lane so there’s room for us.

A week or so ago I was going down the M4 bus lane (For those of you not familiar with the M4, this is the right-hand lane of 3 lanes and runs for several miles going into London. Buses, Taxis and bikes are allowed to use this lane.) when I came up behind a small bus. It was obvious that he was not using his mirrors. Most taxis (and even some buses) will move over slightly to allow a bike to get past. Not this chap. (It’s not an issue when they’re keeping to the speed limit – I don’t mind staying behind them then. When they’re driving at 40mph in the 60mph zone is when I want to get past.)

Now I do frequently check MY mirrors, and as luck would have it, I spotted a vehicle approaching some way away with alternately flashing headlights and a blue flashing light on top. Not a problem, I indicated left and moved out of the bus lane. There were a few gaps in the traffic; it was not bumper-to-bumper. The otherwise unmarked police vehicle rapidly came up behind the bus. Where it stayed. Right until the end of the bus lane several miles later when it was finally able to get past the bus on the left. I think the bus driver was asleep.

My other pet hate is drivers not using their indicators. I think I’ll start carrying a screwdriver with me, and when a driver doesn’t use his indicators I’ll follow him. Once he’s stopped I’ll remove his indicator bulb. Hey, it’s not being used so there’s no reason for it to be there!