Moto Guzzi V7 Cafe Classic for sale

 Moto Guzzi V7 Cafe Classic for sale 

- first registered on 1-11-09 on a 59 plate - I am the second owner - 9000 miles -recent full service at Moto Strada, a well respected Guzzi dealer in Shipley, Yorkshire - finished in Legnano green- recently the subject of an article in Real Classic magazine 103 -phone no. 0114 2662252 07889 345866  £3800.00

These are lovely daily rides - I rented a Classic from Agostini's (story's in Benzina #9)

Benzina #7 reappears

We've found a couple of boxes of Benzina #7 with another vendor, so can now offer single issues again. Amazing what some people have down the back of their sofa. You can buy online here

Phil Read and MV Agusta in perfect harmony

1974 French film; Phil Read at his finest. The title means "the iron horse". Best watched while listening to "Ace of Spades" by Motorhead. Or is that just me?

Mike (Michelle) Duff Film

Thanks to Davida for pointing out that this film has appeared on YouTube. Nine minutes of period racing with Mike (now Michelle) Duff and an insight into what it was like to be a privateer in the 1960s. Hugely under appreciated rider, and her book Make Haste, Slowly is a must read.

Kevin Ash

So within hours of posting an "at least they died doing what they love" blog, I was told Kevin Ash had died on the BMW GS1200 launch. What to say? His daughter's words are the most poignant, posted on his own website, Ash on bikes:


'The phrase “he died doing what he loved” sprang to mind but I would like to stamp that firmly out. He loved his family more and we love him. As his oldest daughter, I only recently started to fully realise just how much further his parenting went than most; on receiving a tearful phone call at Stanstead airport it was a natural response to immediately cancel his press launch and ride back home to teach trigonometry the night before exams. Everything he did was entirely for his children and his wife, and a little bit for his cat. My parents loved each other very much and I hope that one day we can learn to live without him.'

I Met Kevin very briefly at the Silverstone Ducati HQ opening and he was a personable, ego free zone unlike too many other motorcycling journalists. I wasn't surprised, because his writing style reflected this, and never descended to the "I'm a riding God" routine but instead gave useful insights and clear advice that made it obvious he wrote for the reader not his ego. He was also happy to embrace his inner geek , and Ill miss him for that. But then we shared many of the same thoughts, like the hopelessness of the BMW K100 and electric bikes; perhaps the greatest tribute to Kevin is Chris Hunter of BikeEXIF's interview: read it here.


When Ollie Bridewell died, I gave his parents a copy of one of my favourite poetry books with the following verses by Mary Frye picked out. They have become much repeated over the last decade, but still work for me.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
Rest in peace, Kevin Ash

Less is More. Plus some heresy...

Thanks to Benzina supporter Shaun Power Design for the first two pix; I'm no fan of obsessive adherence to originality, but sometimes it's better than trying too hard. The gold heat shield on the 900SS, the unexplained crotch chain, the... No, none of my business. But if you spot me looking like this take the humiliating snap and then throw rocks. Please.


And as for the Guzzi; at least it's just a V65 and the sheer effort is admirable... but is that a look? And no excuse for the lights. Look like he pinched them from a stairwell in a high rise car park. If you must there's more if you click here.
Surely less is nearly always more, and to stick my head further over the parapet, further heresy by suggesting the Honda at the bottom of this post proves the point. Bobbed mudguards, flat 'bars, and a truncated seat. Nice eye for detail and proportion: if you can achieve this on a Honda G5, what could the builder do with a better canvas? So I'll forgive the finned engine covers because I had some on a 400/4. It was the 1970s...

Giant Test: health & saftey vs. snow vs. Morini Corsarino

Snowmagedon, they're saying on the radio. Yet this is our lane, just after I'd pushed the milkman's float straight. Yet the police are saying don't travel; health and safety. You'll die, or worse. Our eldest is trapped in Salisbury because a lorry's jacknifed, and every hill (not that we have big hills in Wiltshire) is blocked by another stuck lorry. Yet the snow is maybe six inches deep, and certainly no worse than our school bus slithered through when I was a kid. Guess the lorries are just bigger, which also explains the potholes (even if the HGV industry talks about the pressure per square inch being similar to a family car; scarily that means HGV owners don't understand hydraulics. Hmmm)

You have to wonder how old time racers would view this. Researching the idea that Enzo Ferrari ran a motorcycle race team (hmmm again) I've been ploughing through old interviews. Not a word about bikes, even though he talks at length about the great Tazio Nuvolari who drove for him and of course raced a Bianchi 350 (see Benzina #4); this was Enzo's view on the pressures to make racing safer in 1977:

"Nuvolari lived a life of passionate risk, yet died, humiliated, in hospital; humiliated because he was unable to die in a race."
Not sure I'd want to run that line past grieving parents, but those I have known all said the same thing, and taken comfort from it; "he died doing what he loved." I hope I never have to wrestle with such demons, and am not entirely disappointed our kids have no interest in motorcycling. But when our daughter was offered the chance to skydive we didn't dream of talking her out of it. If we make the old folks' home, all that will be left are memories. Riding a Morini Corsarini with knackered frame bearings in deep snow will be one of mine.