James Burleigh
Well-known member
Call me James Burleigh. Some hours ago--never mind how long precisely--having little or no chores at home, and nothing particular to interest me on TV, I thought I would ride about a little and see the twisty part of the world.
It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get on my bike just as soon as I can.
This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to my bike. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards motorcycles with me.
But before I got on the Feejer, I thought maybe I'd f**k with the front pre-load as recommended in this thread but never done. And so I did. I tightened it down (not the clicker, but the wrenching part) from four to two notches (washerlike thingies). Well, it seems my wobble's gone.
Now, if only I could find that White Whale! :lol:
Hg
It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get on my bike just as soon as I can.
This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to my bike. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards motorcycles with me.
But before I got on the Feejer, I thought maybe I'd f**k with the front pre-load as recommended in this thread but never done. And so I did. I tightened it down (not the clicker, but the wrenching part) from four to two notches (washerlike thingies). Well, it seems my wobble's gone.
Now, if only I could find that White Whale! :lol:
Hg