The big Appul

Thurs.13.03.08. The jury remains hung regarding Rimmers appeal against ‘life in the fuck off’ bin. Their acquittal still hangs in the balance. They can provide a 15mm by 48mm (54mm with domed locking nuts) K and N pancake filter for £34.00 but not the stub stack (ram pipe) which negates the entire point of fitting them. The upgraded front springs to suit the Spax adjustable platforms are slightly less in free length than conventional ones but the poundage is unknown, but it is possibly much harder. I suppose that I was unlucky, yet again, to speak to someone on the trade counter who knows less than I do about motor car engineering. Considering that they profess to be the ultimate supplier of Triumph parts throughout the world their sales team leave a lot to be desired. In their defence I always recall John of Paddocks owning up every time when a particular part is not conventional: “Oh, we don’t get involved with that side”. But never giving up I have pursued the matter further, the ‘pancakes’ sent by Europa have been returned with a cover note to Andy requesting an off the shelf front spring with 10.5 inch free length with ID of 2.65 inches and a small 25mm ram pipe to fit K and N filters. 

The templates for the upper edge of the boot and the handbrake cover have been fashioned from 10mm ply and daler board. A second fitting will be necessary before the remaining precious piece of French timber is butchered and the cover is bound in equally illusive sage leather.

The success of the day has been the discovery of two indicator and lighting stalk shrouds in a grubby discarded box in my lockup. The two original number plate lights together with a horn and a pair of battered pancakes were also rescued but whether any of these items will be usable is an unknown. But, I have previously refurbished items in a worse state than these, so anything is possible? 

The Bowling Green still attracts the usual suspects. The Doc, David, Captain Salty, Jimmy the Axe, Andy Lewis, Mad John, Warbling Wilf, Doctor Dave, Carlos and Sleepy Steve. Everyone is marking time until the grand re-opening of the Oak. It wasn’t long before the Doc proudly announced that the deadline would likely to be Wednesday 19^th. March when he would host a dry run for selected invited guests. He was singing the praises of Mick who had been grafting all week finishing the bar top followed by laying the last of the slate tiles in the entrance hall. One of the finer achievements of the mini refurb was to upturn the lamp shades so that the light was actually reflecting downwards. “You can in fact see where you are going now, you can actually find your way to the bog, if that’s your inclination, or even see which side your breads buttered yet at the same moment inquire as to whether or not your pot is half full or half empty” not quite pertinent, he did manage to pull back from the brink, nevertheless the immediate future was another matter. Rembrandt and Mick arrived late after hastily finishing their packing for their trip to the ‘big appul’ to celebrate St. Patrick’s weekend. “I can’t fackin’ wait to see awl mi old mates, especially Silicone Gloria, I’ve not been foa free fackin’years. I’m goina get shit faced on Guinness”.

Rembrandt is travelling as a guest of Mick so for someone who has not been out of the country for firty years it will be quite an adventure. Sure to form Mick plans to introduce him to his Brooklyn mates, loud, proud, laarge an’ smokin’ cigars. Rather than being the best weekend in the world I suspect that suffering the torturous American Irish music for a solid four days sounds more to me like incessant purgatory rather than consummate pleasure. Everyone in their own way wished them ‘bon voyage’ but secretly we know that it will end in tears.