FOAK: Brembo brake parts (Long & may contain rant)
in [UK Motorcycles]
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From: Champ on 6 May 2010 08:21 On Thu, 06 May 2010 13:02:09 +0100, Grimly Curmudgeon <grimly4REMOVE(a)REMOVEgmail.com> wrote: >Absolutely guaranteed there's a specialist stockist of rubber >boots/gaiters/thingies out there in Internetland. You know, the kind of >shop you used to find down a back street, where the bell above the >well-worn door went 'ding' and inside you were confronted by an array of >boxed wooden shelving reaching back to the end of the Universe and >several aforementioned Blokes in Brown Coats coming and going on >mysterious missions in and out the racking, clutching dockets of some >description. There was always a faint smell of rubber, chalk, grease and >Hylomar or some other sealing compound hanging around and if you were >lucky, and a regular, a free cup of coffee from the machine at the end >of the counter. I always imagined you working in such a place. Perhaps even living there. -- Champ We declare that the splendor of the world has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of speed. ZX10R | Hayabusa | GPz750turbo neal at champ dot org dot uk
From: The Older Gentleman on 6 May 2010 10:31 Grimly Curmudgeon <grimly4REMOVE(a)REMOVEgmail.com> wrote: > a free cup of coffee from the machine at the end > of the counter. Coffee? Machine? All these places I know have kettles and tea. I was in one such the other weekend, and to my surprise he son of a friend was in there, yacking to the staff. Turned out he lived above the shop. I was quite envious. There's a really good such emporium in Tunbridge Wells. Sells motor bulbs loose, in that the staff open a big drawer, and select one bulb from a big box of them, instead of you selecting from a rack of those horrible blister packs. But I know what you mean. The bell above the door has to be on one ofthose coiled spring things, and there's always one of those long grabbers-onna-stick to retrieve items from high shelves. There's usually a brand new factory manual for a Riley on the shelves somewhere, as well. -- BMW K1100LT Ducati 750SS Triumph Street Triple Honda CB400F Suzuki TS250 Suzuki GN250 chateaudotmurrayatidnetdotcom Nothing damages a machine more than an ignoramus with a manual, a can-do attitude and a set of cheap tools
From: Grimly Curmudgeon on 6 May 2010 11:04 We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold. I remember totallydeadmailbox(a)yahoo.co.uk (The Older Gentleman) saying something like: >But I know what you mean. The bell above the door has to be on one >ofthose coiled spring things, and there's always one of those long >grabbers-onna-stick to retrieve items from high shelves. The odd thing about those places is that when you drive past you'd never know they were there and mysteriously from outside you never, ever see anyone enter or leave - but the door is hard worn at the edge and bottom by thousands of greasy hands and boots over the years. Yet, when you walk in you're not the first, but always the second or third standing there and get served bloody quickly - unless your face is that of a stranger or simply doesn't fit and you'll stand there for hours. They can tell, you know - they know when an imposter ventures forth in his borrowed overalls to masquerade as a Rubber Fancier or Fiddler of Greasy Bits and aren't taken in by a pair of ovies or dirty boots. It's all about the body language, is that.
From: Hog on 6 May 2010 11:19 Grimly Curmudgeon wrote: > We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the > drugs began to take hold. I remember totallydeadmailbox(a)yahoo.co.uk > (The Older Gentleman) saying something like: > >> But I know what you mean. The bell above the door has to be on one >> ofthose coiled spring things, and there's always one of those long >> grabbers-onna-stick to retrieve items from high shelves. > > The odd thing about those places is that when you drive past you'd > never know they were there and mysteriously from outside you never, > ever see anyone enter or leave - but the door is hard worn at the > edge and bottom by thousands of greasy hands and boots over the > years. Yet, when you walk in you're not the first, but always the > second or third standing there and get served bloody quickly - unless > your face is that of a stranger or simply doesn't fit and you'll > stand there for hours. They can tell, you know - they know when an > imposter ventures forth in his borrowed overalls to masquerade as a > Rubber Fancier or Fiddler of Greasy Bits and aren't taken in by a > pair of ovies or dirty boots. It's all about the body language, is > that. There was an amazing Emporium in Glasgow for bike stuff. Set back from Gt Western Road. Old factory unit over 3 floors. forgotten the name now, but they had everything. You could walk in with a busted brake/clutch/throttle cable and they would make you up a replacement there and then. -- Hog
From: boxerboy on 6 May 2010 11:32
> > All I suggest is that you take the (remnants of) your rubber boot to a > good car spares and accessories place (men in brown coats are a good > sign) and see if they can match it. > Oh that it was that simple. I do not have the old boot or any of its remnants it went AWOL I know not where. Boxerboy |