And took it to work: 40 miles each way. First stop, petrol station. At the next pump, a massive geezer with a cut-off leather jacket, bald head, tattoos and wrap-around shades, is filling his car. His kids are in the back. He has "biker" written all over him. "Nice bike!" he calls. I grin and say: "Thanks. It took a lot of time to get it like like this." He smiles and waves. Thread my way south to the M25, and at least two other car drivers give the bike a good eyeful. Both drivers are old goits like me. Then the M25, and traffic is light, so I wind the thing up to an indicated 90, because this is what it was built for: having the tits caned off it. It's still smooth, sweet and despite being 30 years old, an utter ball to ride. I wonder what motorists think as this tiny bike screams past them and they then clock the old suffix 'R' plate. The front brake feels fine but wooden and has little bite. I bet it's the swinging pivot seized up - I haven't checked it for a couple of years. If you really heave on the lever, it stops, but I'm sure it used to be better than this. Home again after work, and I whip off the caliper and sure enough, the pivot has stuck solid. 1o minutes with cleaning kit and grease sorts it, and I clean around the caliper piston for good measure. Just as I'm finishing, next-door neighbour turns up on his new (to him) XT600E Supermotard, and throws me the keys. Boy, what fun. 600 Bandit wheels, sticky tyres, USD front end from a KLX650, a bicycle digital speedo cunning fitted in the original speedo housing (previous owner couldn't get the original speedo cable drive to work off the Bandit front wheel), and a loud carbon can. Back to start, refit the 400 brake, and take it round the block, Amazing difference. Two ice-cold 1664 beers to celebrate. Today has been a good day.
