I went to Autoworld Brussels again today, to see the Ferrari 70 Years exhibition. I spent a lot of time on my knees before the F40. (Ever since I planned to see this exhibition, I was hoping there’d be an F40 there so I could quote Iain Banks as Kathryn on it in The Business: ‘Brutal.’)
‘I’d love a shot,’ I said between corners. ‘Would you let me drive? Just for a bit.’
‘Well, I don’t know. There’s the insurance …’ It was the most worried he’d sounded so far. ‘I’d love to, Kathryn, but—’
‘But, Kathryn, this is a Ferrari.’
‘I’ve driven Ferraris. Uncle Freddy used to lend me the Daytona when I was staying at Blysecrag sometimes.’
‘Oh? Well, yes, but that’s front-engined, you see, quite different handling characteristics. The 355 is mid-engined. Much trickier on the limit.’
‘He let me loose in the F40, too. And, of course, I wouldn’t be going anywhere near the limit.’
He glanced at me. ‘He let you drive the F40?’
‘A couple of times.’
‘I never drove the F40.’ He sounded like a disappointed schoolboy. ‘What’s it like?’
The Business, Iain Banks
5am off to Tegel for a morning flight to Brussels and a week with Gala in danceland.
We both simultaneously broke into Kraftwerk.
We visit museums to anthropomorphise engineering. “aiaiaiai! What are you doing? Nononono!!”
Dear Lei Zhang of Fujian Nan’an Boreway Machinery Co., Ltd. in Shuitou Town, Nan’an City, Fujian Province, China. We have never met. But you emailed me on my blog email this morning. Your email was beautiful. I sadly have no use for boring and grinding heads as I sadly have no boring or grinding equipment. I wish I did. I saw the attached photograph of bush hammer rollers and thought to myself, “This is good and useful spam. All spam should be this good and useful. Imagine if it was, I would buy things.” So, thank you, Lei Zhang, you have done the unique. In all my years of receiving spam, in all those tens or hundreds of thousands of impersonal and unwanted emails, yours is the first that’s made me say, “I wish I had a need for this, I would buy immediately.” It’s true, if I had spare cash, I’d buy some bush hammer rollers just because they look brilliant — and I’ve never even seen them before. Because of your email, I learned something new, which is what is best in life. You must think I’m being sarcastic and mocking you, but I’m not. Yours is genuinely the best unsolicited email I’ve ever received.
There was this moment, about 90 minutes in, when I’d unwound the bar tape, stripped out the old cables, trashed the old brakes, had a pile of new bits to install facing a gutted bike, and I thought to myself, “You know what you’re doing, right? ’Cos you can’t reverse out of this mess if you don’t, eh.”
“Nah, nah, nah, mate, she’ll be right.”
“Are you saying that for my benefit, or yours?”
”Also Frances, buy some fucking wire cutters, for fuck’s sake. You know how pliers butcher the shit out of cables.”
Lucky for me it turns out I more or less do, and it more or less did. If I don’t experience catastrophic improperly installed brake failure in the next few weeks, I reckon I’m good.
These are by far the easiest cantilever brakes to set the pads up on, and set the spring tension, and cable length, I swear, all that wasted time with shite cantis when I could have been using these. Enough time left after setup even to commit to drivetrain cleaning and swapping out the chain. Nice new Ultegra links to match Avid Shorty Ultimate braking mayhem. Finally I have cantis that I can skid the rear tyre on without doing a slight endo to de-weight the rear. Plus I swapped left and right levers, cos like driving on the left in the Empire’s former colonies, so too do we mash the rear brake by grabbing a handful with our left. I tried to be all proper German slash EU and swap to Rear is Right, but a lifetime of ingrained braking habits refused to change, and there’s nothing more confidence destroying than hammering a sketchy trail having to consciously think of which hand to squeeze.
Yay! Brakes! Yay! Still new wheels! Yay! awesome tyres! I took it for a shakedown ride this morning, plus fiddled with my saddle position. Well tasty. Gonna be putting some miles down on this in the coming weeks.
A late-afternoon, evening well mechanic-ed. And frankly, bike now has one well-sexy arse.
Once again, after some two hours of riding into Brandenburg, on country roads, cobblestone lanes, gravel farm tracks and single-track trails, just south of the new (and still unopened) airport, I reach the end of the road.
Magic end of road had a little hook through a copse, under a fallen tree, on the narrowest of barely-used paths, through a short spur of forest, spitting me out on the cleanest of new access roads around barbed wire airport fencing. Two more hours of gravel, cobblestone, track, trail, path, road, canalways, towns, fields, forests, to close the loop back in Kreuzberg.
“But were there Nazis, Frances?”
“Yes, Other Frances, there are always Nazis in Brandenburg. These ones rode crappy, old East German scooters with coal scuttle helmets through Zeuthen, and looked secretly ashamed and sad.”