Tis the season.....

.....For singing christmas songs.  Yes folks, it's time for parties and celebrations etc etc.  I hope you're all set, at Chez Croucher, the wife has been busy xmasfying the lounge, ck knows why, she's pagan, but I suppose it's because it looks cosy at night and the kids like it.  In fact, it almost warms my cold and cynical heart.

I've been playing the odd seasonal tune too, suffering the earworm that is Andy Williams' "it's the most wonderful of the year" for days on end, still, it's not a tat song and at least he could hold a note and has plenty more to his catalogue than that one song.  We'll also be watching Die Hard imminently too, as we do.
      While watching Arrow the other day, Oliver Queen was holding a christmas party and giving a mayoral speech.

Oliver: "one of my favourite christmas films ever, is Die Hard".

Leilei: "YEESSSSSSSSSS"

Right in my ear.


Racing, took the Sworkz S12-1m to Torch last week, the track was piss wet through and misty, I came last all morning, beating only the step son with his FTX edge in his third ever visit to the club, mind you, in my defense I was on Schumacher Yellow minispikes and driving a laydown gearbox car.  Also it was only the 2nd time I had driven that car, the 1st being in May, in the sunshine.  Best not hang on to that result methinks.

I was meant to be racing my truggy this past weekend at Clanfield, in a bid to avenge my DNF a few weeks previously, unfortunately, I woke up on saturday with a sore throat, and in the hours that followed, snot flowed freely from my nose and prevented me from sleeping properly.  However, I still got up to go racing but fell fowl of not having enough sleep and feeling a bit crap so once I woke up again for the 3rd time, I thought it best to put everything away again.  I see they had a good day, just wish I was well enough.  Oh well, there's always next time.


We went out for breakfast the other week.  Took the bike out on a bitter cold saturday morning and rode to a cafe called the Departure Lounge Cafe.  We had the large breakfast, which came with the most awesome fried eggs.  Nothing fancy about them as such except they were perfectly cooked, and piping hot, unlike ya 5 quid breakfast from wetherspoons.
       I highly recommend that cafe if you're of a motoring persuasion.  It is on the A339 (aka the death road) just north of Alton.


Anyway, I doubt I'll see you before Christmas, maybe I'll bump into on Boxing Day if you happen to be in Wickham Square in the morning.

Stay safe kids, and remember, even a chocolate teapot is of use, only once mind, and very briefly, but still of use.

Laterz

Back to track

Well, I've kept THE name change, I quite like it.  I can imagine there's a Mr Quagraine somewhere either feeling flattered or uttering "prick" under his breath, no matter, I shall continue.

After a brief hiatus from racing due to real life, I had to get back to it so popped up to round 2 of Clanfields winter series.  Now, my last time out was the Dirtmasters at the same circuit, and where I cooked my servos and put my back out, leaving me confined to the lounge floor for 3 days.  So I was hoping my day would be less painful than last time, both physically and financially.  

The Sworkz s350 T US edition was stripped and cleaned after the dirtmasters and was festooned with a pair of XPert HV Sefvos courtesy of Pete and Karl at Answer RC, so it was ready to rock, or so I thought.

I pull into the track and realize I've forgotten my spares cache.  I usually pack them first so I know it's done, only this time I was rejigging the packing of the car to fit the 80L really useful box which is full of sets of truggy wheels, thanks to Mr P S Taylor.  Anyway, what could go wrong?  Not broken anything before. So should be top banana all day.  Ha.

Massive truggy turnout at Clanfield but I was still the only Sworkz guy there, challenge accepted.  Unfortunately, when I forgot my spares I set in motion a series of events that would put me up against it for the rest of the day, like in one of those films that contain time travel and some bollocks about destiny and other tripe like that.

Throttle servo arm came off during Q1, but that's clearly down to ppp, I rejoined and finished.  In Q2, I had a massive get off and broke the rear toe block.  This wouldn't have been a problem had I remembered my spares.  It looked like my day was over, until I remembered the T-Pro chassis guard I run, it's labeled as sworkz/mugen, so maybe a Mugen toe in block.would fit.  Thanks to Steve Hamilton and his box of Mugen bits, I shoehorn the block on and if fits, just.

Out for Q4 as I missed Q3 due to spannering up my Mugen bodge, and this time, a rear shock shaft pulls free of its ball joint, sending the spring and its retaining cup in to yonder, thankfully this happens only half a lap from the end so I limp across the line to get 3rd.  Looks like I'm going home though as I can't find my spring or cup anywhere.

Matt Perry finds my spring at the other end of the track from where I was looking, no cup though, time to utilize bear grylls style skillz (but without the camera/lighting/sound/H&S/makeup/nutrition/diplomatic people)  I find a 6 armed servo horn and use that as a spring cup, looks well crap but needs must.  Minutes  before the final though another fellow finds the cup.  A mad rush ensues to swap it for my lash up.

I'm 4th on the grid despite destinys best attempts at doing me over and after a messy start and calming myself down over the first 2 laps,  I settle to a rhythm, then, myself and the car seem to click, almost on a zen like level, with soft focus and doves flying out from my transmitter in slo mo, and I'm banging in consistent laps.  Graham "Sloppy" Alsop is the only one in front of me but he clears off to another dimension, a bit like Doctor Strange.  Unfortunately, it wasn't to continue, something fails 10 laps in leaving the 350T to drag its arse back to pit lane, that something turns out to be the Mugen bodge.  Where the Sworkz inner hinge pins screw into the front block but are captured by the toe in block inserts, the Mugen pins just screw in, with open inserts and the heads outside of the block, meaning if they unscrew, they come out, which they did, which meant a dnf, but also a 6th place.  In hindsight, I could've run back to the paddock, grabbed an allen driver and screwed them back in, but I was chuffed I had got that far and how the car was going, so I let it be, letting destiny have it's way so it could fuck off and leave me alone.

Many thanks to Pete at Answer RC, with whom a quick phone call earlier today yielded an ali toe in block and latest spec shock ends.  Steve Hamilton for his Mugen bits, Tony Bolwell for making the track good once again (I still have anodizing on the bottom after 2 visits) and obviously the rest of the racers who turned up to make the day.

Stay safe kids, and remember, cyanoacrylate does not make a good eye cream.

Laterz

THE name change

Ok, by now you've noticed something different, yes, I've changed the name of my blog. It may ring a bell with some RC-ers and it's not because I'm taking the piss or want a slice of the action, oh no siree.

There's a guy, an international RC racer, by the name of Joseph Quagraine. I don't know him, I won't even pretend I do. He had the balls to develop, make and market his own RC car. He called this, THE Car, and subsequently, all the merchandise since then has THE preceding what the item is, ie: THE pit towel, THE car stand, etc etc, you get the idea.

Alas, here is a guy who voices his opinion via social media and of course his own website, called THE Quagraine, oddly enough. Anyway, I've read a few of his articles which I've enjoyed and seen a couple of vids on neobuggy. He tends to speak his mind, something I've been known for in the past. He tells it how he sees it, lets people have it with both barrels if need be. I like that. He doesn't give a monkeys who he pisses off but he seems passionate about his business, as well as the sport his business revolves around, as one would. A kind of Maverick, if you will. So the blogs name change is a nod, a tip of the hat, to this bloke.  He looks to have haters and followers in equal measure but he is always an interesting read.

In one of his posts a short while ago, he went on to say that everyone is sponsored these days and that it is killing the sport. If Mr Quagraine should ever happen upon this blog entry of mine, I'd say I have to disagree with him there. Now, we both race rc cars, that is where the similarities end. He is an international pro, and I'm just a club guy, we're on complete opposite ends of the spectrum, with him being as far beyond me in terms of the hobby/sport as modern atheist man is beyond narrow minded religious nutjobs living in caves, or trailer parks. Anyway, this year, I got my very first supported drive, call it what you like, being sponsored, supported drive, whatever. Prior to that, I was just doing the odd club round at just one club, upon being given a drive, I invested in a lot of new stuff, including cars, engines etc.  I have tried to promote the brand of which I drive and my sponsor and show them both in a positive light, which they well deserve. What I have also done since being gifted the drive is attend more races, and participate in a regional championship, which required travelling. Now, I doubt I would have done that before, but I can say the sponsorship helped go some way in making it more affordable to race at more clubs. How does this kill the sport Mr Q?  I think, and this is just my opinion of course, being at the top of tree, Mr Quagraine might have lost sight of the grass roots side of things, if he was ever involved at all.  

Anyhow, that's just my opinion, and like arseholes, everybody has one. If Mr Quagraine ever has time to waste on reading this column, I hope he has an opinion on it and lets me know, because he has his opinion, and I have mine. Now, what is THE opinion on the blogs name change? Keep it or change it back?

Answers below please or where ever I have posted this link.

Bikes, friends, and "45 people you may know"

On Sunday the 9th October, the wife and I attended Brightona, an event on Madiera Drive in Brighton in aid of charity and featuring some custom bikes and a few yank motors, stalls and of course a couple of stages where bands were playing, it was a good relaxing day out, aside from when I realized I hadn't turned the heated grips off after an hour of being there, and knowing the triple needs a decent amperage to get it turned over and fired, I powerwalk back to the bike and find it all roses, phew.

As we came up the on ramp to join the A27, were found ourselves on the tail end of maybe a couple of hundred bikes, riding en mass.  Whether they were all together or several little groups doesn't matter, it's moments like that I remember why I ride bikes, that and being waved at by other bikers who have stopped in laybys to wait for friends etc.  

There was one guy, riding a trike, with his family on the back.  He was of a back patch orientation, but he also only had one arm, and controlled the bike via joystick.  This guy has lost an arm and hasn't jacked it in.  This too makes me proud to be part of motorcycling, I don't need to copy and paste a facebook status to prove that.  I've been a motorcyclist all my adult life and I've been lucky to learn a few things and meet a few people and make a few friends in that time, but, like most scenes or hobbies, it has to be said, it can be quite cliquey and has it's fair share of pretenders.  I'm not saying that once you start biking you can't jack it in, or you can't start later on in life, but I've seen people come in to it all a bluster, talk the talk for a couple of years, then leave again, never to seen by anyone ever again, they are not bikers in my eyes, they are pretenders. I'd like to think that for most of us, once it's in there, inside of you, it isn't going away.

I spoke to an old friend about this some years ago, you find them all the time, they've probably got bored of squash or golf and need something new they can do with their office chums. "oh yeah that marquez is shit hot, I went to bobs bikes last night cos Leon Haslam was there opening signed envelopes and there was a (insert current exotic bike name here) in the carpark".  That's nice, ever heard of Mick Doohan? No? Then fuck off.  It's like they started watching a film halfway through and switched it off 20 minutes before the end, and not bothered to find out what happened at the start or the end. Then having the nerve to say it was a brilliant film.  I'm being harsh there as you don't have to follow racing to be in to bikes, I doubt back patch clubs give a toss if Hutchy wins the 2nd supersport race, t'was merely an example of how I see things sometimes.

I'm ranting now.

Which brings me nicely to the aforementioned social media site.  Some of you may know I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook.  It's handy as it genuinely helps with keeping in touch with people one may have lost contact with for whatever reason.  For example, we met a guy in Brighton I used to work with, we used to chat about bikes at work, and as it happens, we still do.  If it wasn't for fb, he wouldn't have messaged me his number, and we wouldn't have happily hung out together for a couple of hours and had lunch. That is what I'd consider a friend.  Saw a number of other people I knew, but they weren't much interested in hanging out or catching up, but that's exactly who they come across as, just people I know, with whom I share a common interest.  I might have met them at a local bike meeting place, or through another friend, or even through another hobby, there's no need to ignore them or be rude, that's not on, I'm always friendly and civil, but they're not actual friends, and that's what I hate about facebook. It misleads you into thinking you have more friends than you actually do. I see, on a personal basis, maybe about 5% of the people on my list, they have been to my house and drunk my tea and sat in my lounge or whatever. Some of them can't though whether it be distance, restraining orders, court injunctions or whatever, and that's fine. Some people are there because you might be in a group, or club, or there's an exchange of some capacity, or they're a fan (haha)

So too are friends who are far away but you still see them during your chosen hobby. One dude I race RC with lives nowhere near, but has been more then helpful during race days, and we've shared a laugh, I would consider him a friend. Sure, not everyone gets on with everyone else, life isn't like that, so someone you think could be a friend, just turns out to be someone you know instead.

You know what I'd like?  I'd like a text on my phone, like the old days: "working in garage, I need a hand, I'll get kettle on, can you spare an hour or so".  I'd be round there, helping a friend, having a laugh and inventing memories.  Much preferable to my phone going off with an fb notification: joe bloggs tagged you and 6 others in 4 photos.  Are they likely to come round for a brew and hang out in the workshop? Are they fuck, and am I likely to care or remember in 5 years time that I was tagged in 4 photos?  Frankly, there's more chance of an arm growing out of my arse. I mean, what would you rather hear? “Do you remember that time Jeremy did a wheelie, fell in the mud, got pissed, lost his keys in the sea and got stopped by the bill for kicking wing mirrors off cars while on the back wheel of his Virago while dressed as a chipmunk?” or: “did you see I tagged you in 65 pictures of your bike in a carpark on facebook?”

That song by Baz Luhrmann, Sunscreen. It's true you know, all of it. The line: “the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young” is spot on. Being 40 and a bit eccentric, you notice crap like that. I've been on a mission lately to see old friends, friends I had when I was young.......sorry, younger. I've caught up with a couple so far, with 2 or 3 more to go. Sure, it's not easy, people move on to different circles and adult stuff gets in the way, that's life but if the friendship is real. It doesn't take long to pick up where you left off and the good times come back.

It's easy to make excuses to not see people in todays society. “Can you pop over tomorrow?” “I can't, got band camp/wife or husband is angry/ working late/ got a cold/ decorating/ skint/ dog has a wet nose” etc, and it's too easy to not want to bother with them because they don't bother with you. Social media makes it OK though because they are on your friends list, but how long before they turn into just someone you know instead of a friend?

Anyway, now I've posted a link to this drivel on facebook, the kettle is on and I'm waiting for that text message while working on my bike. 

Still waiting..........

Oh well, better luck next time

So, I've just done the final round of the SRS, held yesterday, 18th September, at the Remote World Model Car Club, or simply Slough.

Since my engine let me down at Clanfield last time out, I was hoping for better things this time round with a new engine.

I'm up at 5am, Left the house at 6 and was on the M25 around 7.  No problems finding the track, even though I'd not been there before and I had no satnav on me, no sirree, just road numbers scrawled on a post it style note, like the puzzle that autistic kid managed to figure out in that Bruce Willis film......What was it called again?

What a top circuit, there's proper toilets, no portaloo rubbish, there's also two airlines and a water gun station for blowing/washing off your car.  the rostrum is quality too, if Guy Martin were to see it, he would say: "aye, that's proper aint it" shortly before drinking a cup of tea,

Round 1, a bit muddy out there, all cars came back weighing far heavier than when they went out, but not really a problem.  6 laps in 5 mins and 40-odd seconds.  a bit meh, but I wasn't last.

Round 2, drying out nicely and I manage 6 laps in 5:21 or something.  I improve in time but not lappage (is that even a word?)

I spend some time eating and gassing to another Sworkz driver about helicopters (sorry if you're reading this but I've forgotten your name) only to find that my throttle servo is dead and I don't have another.  A fellow South Coast RC racer saves the day and I get in the car and set just in time for...

Round 3.  Ok, but I had a funny 5 minutes in the middle of the race when I made several joey mistakes in succession and as such I end up with 6 laps in 5:dunno, slower than round 2 anyway.

The Final, I'm in the "pull start" final, which is a shame, but hey ho.  That stalwart of spannering, that perennial pitman himself, Paul Stumpy Taylor (I don't know how he got that name) was once again roped into pitting for me.  I'm off, I make it to a slow section of the track and the engine cuts, not even getting one lap in.  Stumpy has a nosey and at first proclaims the clutch is at fault.  I come down and further investigation from Stumpy and Sworkz guru Kevin Brunsden, reveal it's no doubt a broken conrod, in a new engine.  Bollox.

It's only toy cars though apparently, but aside from that, I challenge any man, woman or child to not feel even the slightest disheartened when one has vested enthusiasm, money and their time into their hobby only for it go a bit wrong.  Some people shout and bawl at marshals or other racers, some people throw their cars to the ground in disgust.  I'm beyond that, things go wrong in EVERY form of racing, no matter what level or what the thing is you're racing.  So better luck next year I suppose.  Not sure where I finished but before this round I was in 32nd, which is by no means last. but I'm probably a couple places lower now.

Many thanks to Answer RCs Peter and Karl for letting an aging, simple club racer be on board the Sworkz train, and also thanks to, Jason, Paul and Kevin for helping me out.  See you all again soon.



Ahhh, Mercury Rising. stupid title for film I think.

5 days on the road

I have a week off, that means it must be time for my now annual presenting gig.  I join my friend and co-presenter John on a show called the DFM Lateshow on Shout Radio.  It's a show that has a lot of history so to speak and it only goes out once a year.  So Tuesday 6th September, I'm on the road in my car, traversing the M27, M3, A34 (fucking dull), M40, M42, A42 then the A511 to Swadlincote. 

The show starts ok, with some good banter, good tunes and old clips from previous "shows", and pizza and chips of course, despite a few technical issues which come to a head in the second half.  The server which sends our show out, and indeed the whole station, goes down.  When we eventually get back on, I've lost my thing, I was in the groove before it went down, upon returning I found I wasn't and the last hour was hard, being tired doesn't help.  We nip to the pub for a drink and a game of pool before retiring.  Next morning and John loads the show online somewhere and we clear off for a spoons brekky.  We bid our fairwells and I make it home in a stonking 2 hours and 40 mins.  The rest of the day is spent relaxing and making sure the Tiger is all good to go in the morning.

I do feel my presenting has improved over last year, as I know what to expect and probably have a good face for radio.  Maybe next years show will all come together to be the best. 

So Lei does the school run and comes home.  The bike is parked up and ready to go with luggage on and packed.  We set off through Horndean, and through to east then west Meon.  The traffic lights at the garage by Loomies cause frustration so I ride through the garage forecourt to avoid waiting through a 2nd cycle of traffic lights, sneaky but justified.

the usual suspects cause hold ups, y'know, lorries, the odd coach and the usual no frills car with a blanket on the parcel shelf and a hat they stole off the man from Del Monte, driven by a person who may or may not be no longer fit to hold a license, and have you ever noticed that when you need to get by someone/thing, the oncoming traffic is solid on the straight bits but get into blind bends etc where no biker worth their salt would think of overtaking and no fucker comes the other way, grrr.

We stop in stockbridge for a wee and a bite to eat and carry on.  Along the way I see Stonehenge.  Never seen it before, and I'm quite underwhelmed.  Doesn't look much from the 303.  Somewhere along the 361, there's a layby with a food van called yum yums, which saw a welcome sausage and egg roll and cup of tea, from a bike friendly vendor too.  We continue on our way and Cheddar Gorge is found in no time.  We make a stop halfway down and take pics.  

We check in to the Arundel House b&b for our nights stay.  I was envisaging the turning up of noses from the hotelier et al that comes with riding motorbikes, but we were made to feel very welcome straight away and even conversed with the owners about our little trip.  We are both knackered so after an hours kip, we go out for dinner to the White Hart up in the gorge, It's a very local pub for local people but again we were made welcome and the food was nice and filling.  There was a folk music gig starting at 9pm, we avoided that as it's not our cup of tea.  If you're ever in Cheddar, I recommend the Arundel House b&b, it's friendly, welcoming, clean and run only by a new mother and her other half so deserve a good recommendation and well done for their sterling efforts.

Friday morning sees us leaving Cheddar and making our way to Exmoor.  Entering Exmoor national park, we rode some crazy bumpy roads with only a few feet width and grass in the middle of the road, not to mention mud n shit.  Lei asks if it's even a road.  We encounter Bryants Hill and its lake before stopping at the Bridge Inn in Dulverton for lunch.  Upon leaving I set the satnav to give us winding roads,  What we got was an unexpected physical workout and two hours of traveling many miles but going fucking nowhere.  We eventually find a way out on to the 303 and nip along to Ilminster where there is a Travelodge, only to find no room at the inn, thus rendering our plan of "fuck it lets just roll" slightly flawed.  Subsequent phone calls to various travelodges etc prove fruitless.  It's now 6pm and we have nowhere to sleep.  One last call to Premier Inn central reveals there is one room left at their Honiton location, reserved as best we can as it's 1st come 1st served, I wind on the gas back along the 303 for 15 miles the wrong way and make it just in time to cough up for the room before someone else walks in the door, phew.  

We have dinner there as neither of us are up to exploring at this time of day.  I watch MotoGP on the telly and go to sleep.

During the night it pisses down, I know because I could hear it and went to have a look.

Saturday and it's wet, we scoff our unlimited buffet breakfast and get ready to leave after watching an old Gladiators episode.  I've never actually watched it but I think Dianne Youdale aka Jet is my favourite.  I get petrol while Lei is finishing up and we're good to go.  It's stopped raining.....

Until we get to Crewkerne on the A30, it's drizzling, which was fine until we get halfway between Yeovil and Shaftsbury, at which point, it hammers down with proper rain,  We hit a puddle at the same time a van passes in the other direction, my boots fill with water as does one leg of my leathers and the crotch of my cacks, yuk.  By the time we reach Salisbury, I'm unable to judge the road satisfactorily as there is now water on the inside of my visor, and more on the right, so I'm riding mostly with my left eye.  Concentration levels at maximum.  Thank god for 2 decades of riding experience.

A36 then M27 to get home.  Everything is wet except what is in the Givi top box.  We eat chip shop for tea and watch 3 episodes of the walking dead which we're just  getting into.  

It was a great little adventure and the bike was truly faultless in all that we put it through, even if it is bloody heavy.

Luckily I have next week off too, gonna need the time off to get over the trip.  

The ups and downs of a minority hobby

RC racing again, and fresh out of movie references.  This installment of twaddle concerns round 5 of the SRS, held at The Clanfield RC track, which although is near Clanfield, I would say is more Hambleden, and has never moved sites in the 11 years it's been going.  Anyway, enough of that.

Nice and late start as I live only 8 miles away and booking in is open till half 9.  It  never used to be this late.  I later find out out by a reliable source that it's because of the locals and that racing can not start till 10am, but at the same time, there are perfectly audible barking arse dogs at 9am in the dog kennels up the road.  Bloody nimby bastards again.  As my wife would say: "I bet they all vote tory too", but that's soooooo another story left to be told never.

I roll in at half 8 and get set up.  Turns out my starter box isn't set, even though I set it up when I got it, so engine out at lots of twiddling of allen drivers ensue.  Tony Bolwell did do a toilet speech, but it wasn't his famous toilet speech, oh well, I guess you can't carry on with the same phrases forever, ok guys?

I've not been on this track since 2009, and it's changed a lot, for the better I may add.  Back then it was loose, dusty and pot holed, and easily broke up during a days racing.  Now, years later, it has been astro'd in some places, but still dirt everywhere else, but oiled now too, and as such, stayed consistent all day long.

Right, let's be quick and to the point here, Round 1 of Q:  6 crap laps, eyes watering on the rostrum, unable to judge the left to right and back again segment due to it narrowing, undulating, & bending.  Only 2 people I beat didn't actually start.
Round 2 saw me improve in time but not a place,  Fellow SWorkz guys Stumpy and Kevin Brunsden had been on hand for pitting and tuning respectively.
Round 3 saw advice from Stumpy turn out fruitful and I manage a 7 lapper, happy days.
The Final, I plum for new tyres and Tony RC is pitting for me.  I'm 11th in the C Final, not impressive in the slightest.  I make an ok start and a lap or so in I'm reeling people in after getting some kind of rhythm going.  7 minutes in and I'm pitting for fuel and up to 7th.  I leave pit lane,.......and cut, after Tony Scotts frantic effort to get me going again, it cuts again, we change the plug, it cuts.  Game over.  The new tyres were shit hot though.

Quite disappointed that the engine had let me down.  It's always ran as clockwork and been reliable as the day is long, however, now it has let me down, I've lost faith in it, time for a new one.  This is how I struggled years ago I think, I'd have a cheap engine, and struggle, and struggle more, and try and get round the problem.  Nowadays, I bought a better engine and had better days due to it's reliability, now that engine has stopped doing that, I'm not fucking about struggling with it like the old days

The track, I found it hard to judge a couple of bits but over all, fun to drive and like the Kent track, there's a learning curve.  I think everyone apart from Bolwell himself and maybe that forum guy Tortoise-ei8ht, has taken the piss out of Clanfield for one reason or another, or both, over the years.  However, having now been back after all these years, it's as good as I remember it ever has been.

(and not a hammer in sight)

Days like these......

....you realize everything is all in the balance, nowt is certain in life, except death of course, unless you're Ras Al Ghul or Connor McCloud of the Clan McCloud.  I'm once again talking RC car racing, so look away now if you're not interested.

Round number "Meh" of SCRCs summer series saw a woeful turnout of 11, which is still just more than the number of actual friends I have, but alas.  A bit of practicing saw my awesome SWorkz S350 evo2 have a funny 5 at the far side of the track, causing it to leave the track unannounced.  This was a continuing theme throughout the day.

In the 2nd round, The rear prop shaft came undone, giving me only fwd, which sucked.  So not a full distance there.  Round 3 saw more interference, much to my annoyance.

This saw us up to a lunch break, at which point I went to go out for practice, only to find my starter box seized,  I have a blue SMD box, they have that orange idler on the belt don't they!, mine had melted, and to the belt itself.  I cobbled something together using an assortment of wild berries, twigs and beetle shit and I was back in the game for the last round of Q (that's qualifying, not John de Lancies character from Star Trek: TNG)

This last round saw me break out the just as awesome 350T, this had no such interference issues, but the rear prop shaft did come loose, wtf, again?  Like John McClane, I was once again the wrong guy in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Final, I'm in the A, although that in part was down to numbers rather than my ability to dazzle people with my deft radio skills.  After I found a pit guy (cheers Bernie) as I thought the guy who I pitted for would return the favour but didn't, I was away and showing people that the SWorkz boyz "don't take no crap", except when once again, I was too gentlemanly and decided to let the leader through.  This made me wander off line and I caught a track marker, pulling a front shock shaft from it's ball joint, and thus collapsing the front end.

Thanks to Steve Hamilton though who had an allen wrench handy to put it back together again and Bernie who chucked some fuel in, I was back, like those two old blokes from Trading Places who end up as tramps, but make an appearance at the end of Coming To America.....

.....Once Steve figured out that my starter box is mounted the other way round that is.  My starter box is set so I have the exhaust facing away from me (wing to the left).  This was a common sense/ engineering decision.  After all, who in their right mind wants to be spurted with nitro fumes while stood next to the damn thing!

So I finish 4th (last was 5th, who was Steve, who retired through a mechanical) but take away some points, and as Valentino Rossi would say: "we taker away theee errrr.... points, which is velly guud for thee championship, no"

That's quite enough movie references too. Next stop: Clanfield SRS, not been there for a while, might dig my Monster Truck out.

Ciao

A week in the life (aka boring shit)

SOoooooo.
Had Monday and Tuesday off work, rode motorbikes, did diy on the house, drank tea, laid in the garden and unloaded car from Sundays race (see previous entry).
Back to work on Wednesday, proper sucky.  Really wasn't feeling it and made sure everyone in my vicinity knew about it too.  Perhaps not the best decision, but I'm 40 now so I think I'm allowed.

Wasn't feeling the rest of the week either, but Thursday saw me out on the bike again with Jason and Rik.  An evenings bimble to Alton for sausage and chip supper, then onto the roundabout for kneedown exploits.  Trip to the hill saw Jason stack his bike through a slow corner, no ones fault, it just let go on him at the rear.  After we saw him home, I was on my way home which saw me get pulled by the filth.

If you're ever in Cosham, at night, and intend on heading toward the hill, or Widley et al, watch out for Cliffdale Gardens.  The coppers hang out there with a Doppler radar gun and take money off you in exchange for endorsing your license with insurance unfriendly marks.  The fucker admitted they go there for revenue too....after he turned his camera off.

Friday saw another evening out, this time with the RC cars, at a local park, alongside me were Simon buggy man (not his birth name) and Sean (his birth name).  We had a few E eighths, and some 10th scale cars.  We broke stuff, I went home and ate chocolate while watching and episode of "the 100", which I'm just getting into.

Saturday was spent in the workshop working on the 350 Evo for next sundays club meet at SCRC, and then wifey and I went dancing in Wickham at the "Wickham with Rhythm" night.  Sunday hasn't been the best, but that's life.

Tomorrow is Monday, so in hindsight, Sunday should have been better.

TTFN or some crap like that

Musings of Mr C: Sunday at the Races

Musings of Mr C: Sunday at the Races: This sunday gone saw me partake in my second SRS meet (that

Sunday at the Races

This sunday gone saw me partake in my second SRS meet (that's Southern Regional Series, not Sexual Reassignment Surgery) at the scary at first looking KMRC circuit in Kent.

The wife and I roll up in the Octy at 07:16, having got up at 04:30 to leave at 05:30, winter coats loaded on board.  I get the gazebo up before coming to terms that because I made a flask of hot water for Lei, and she packed the food bag, it's still my fault she had no tea bags.  Ah well, moving on,

I book in and have correct money.  I bump in to some familiar faces including an ever growing assortment of SWorkz drivers.  I'm driving my new car today, the s350 evo2 LE, Once I swap shock oil, pistons (which I find I've mixed and matched front and rear) Thanks Kev for pointing that out, It starts to behave a little bit more and I can push it on the track.  Qualifying was woeful, or I was expecting too much.  Made the F final in 11th, which meant I wasn't anywhere near last, but not where I had hoped to be by the end of qualifying.  In my defense, I had crashed a couple of times but also had to wait to be marshaled, sometimes a bit longer than I'd hoped.  Not to mention my tyre (or lack thereof) situation.

My final was helped along by none other than the gargantuan figure of Paul Stumpy Taylor who politely accepted my request for him to pit for me.  It wasn't helped along by the sniveling nipper who refused to marshal, despite having raced there all day and had just done his final.  We waited while he was given words, then it kicked off.

Everytime race control announced the order, I was a place up.  After 20 fun (except the dick who took me out over the last double as I passed him) packed minutes, I finished 4th, just missing the bump up to the E. I took my time in packing up, said my goodbyes and thanks, and we trundled off home,

Saw 3 major incidents on the M25, thankfully (or not) all on the eastbound carriageway, they included a motorbike on fire,  some fire engines making the next one hard to see, and ambulances and central reservation making the 3rd also hard to spot.  Rolled in at 20:30.  Watched Arrow, went to bed.

Special thanks to Lei for making sarnies, Tony RC for taking the piss out of me cos Rossi fell off, Paul Taylor for helping with tyres, tips, and being shit hot in the pits and Kevin Brunsden for a couple of nuggets of information.

Next stop: Clanfield, bloody darn sight closer (8 miles) and I'll be making my return to the track I last raced on in '09.