Monday, November 30, 2009
This was originally listed as an ex Ivan Mauger bike, and in a way it is. Seems that Jawa used to pay Ivan in parts – tons of parts.
This bike was never campaigned by Ivan and was apparently sourced from his mechanic. In recent times Ivan has discredited bikes like this - and understandably so.
A recent sale of a bike he did campaign went for $82K in the US. Regardless of whether the legend ever actually rode
this bike it is undoubtedly insanely cool. 60 horsepower single speed 4 valve blue metal flake speed bitch! Still available for sale from what I hear.
Now this is sensible recycling. Why in God’s name would you drink a beer, send the empty can all the way to the dump to be sorted, recycled and turned back into raw product, shipped overseas, remanufactured into a shitty table, imported back into the country, driven around on a truck, stuck in a shitty retail store, sold by this year’s chaps in last year’s slacks, bought back by you, driven home and then sweated over while you try to interpret the nonsensical instructions when you could turn the empty straight into useable outdoor furniture. Besides, what better excuse can you think of to drink 420 beers?
This gave me a stiffy – a Birmingham Small Arm holding an orange. A 1956 BSA Gold Star 500, one of the fastest machines of the 50’s. These were hand built and supplied from the factory with documented dyno details for each bike. The Goldstar won every Isle of Man Clubmans TT from 1949 to 1956 when the series was discontinued. In that last year in the 500 race, Gold Stars took all the first six places. Incredible to think that by the mid seventies BSA, Norton and Triumph would all be gone.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
If you didn’t get a chance to check out the auction of old bikes that were on display at Deus - don’t sweat it. We’re going to feature some of the machines we dug over the next little while. This 1914 was a mind blower – check out the gas head light. This model is the last Triumph of the veteran era and originally belonged to Phil Aubert Bedard's father. It’s a three speed 550 and was built in Coventry, which just happens to be the farthest from the coast of any city in Britain.
What kind of madness is the Sloth? Easy to dismiss as a woebegone carny-dog with only comedic value to modern society.Take a moment though and consider this. In a world obsessed with going faster (often in reverse) and filling each minute with
more useless information and bull-shittery, the Sloth has a different approach. When it got shitty on the ground, they got the fuck off it and headed for the trees.
They’ve adopted a “browsing” lifestyle, preferring to keep decisions to a minimum and keeping things EASY. They move only when they really have to, climbing down from the trees once a week to take a crap and have a piss. Man that appeals to me.
Fashion means nothing to them and rather than standing out, a Sloth is happier to blend in and avoid attraction, concentrating more on the important stuff - like eating. Remember friends, as much as two thirds of a well fed Sloth’s body weight consists of the contents of its stomach. Then, from the departure lounge they deliver the biggest FUCK-YOU to the rest of the world and remain hanging from branches after death. Slacker Mausoleum - brilliant. So when it all gets too much, when you want to kick the TV screen in because you’ve just taken the last thirty second advertising ass-fuck you can bare, when you’re sick to your tits of rushing for the bus, working for the boss and listening to the cock-knocker who’s explaining how you should/could be living, sit back good friends and ask yourself “what would a Sloth do?” You’ll be feeling better in no time!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Winston Churchill once said "Although personally I am quite content with existing explosives, I feel we must not stand in the path of improvement" and it's with no relevance to this quote that we welcome you to OnePercent. The first printed issue will be out early February and hot dang it's looking good. In the meantime come in, put your feet up, have a drink, rummage throuh our undie draws and take our women for a burn. Our place is your place, (except for when we say fuck off and get out of our place) - it's great to have you along for the ride. So this is not the end, it is the beginning. But it is, perhaps, also the beginning of the end. Boom!