A loud shout for Mikeyboy - Motor Cycle Engineer

Transglobalundies

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As the new season is upon us etc.... Just a loud shout for Mikeyboy.:clap

For anyone who doesn't already know Mikeyboy, he is a motor cycle engineer who looks after, services, maintains & repairs your beloved 2 wheeled machine.

He has excellent facilities, is very knowlegeable and keeps the kettle near permanently on.

Reason for the shout, he was recommended on this forum when BumW could even be bothered to hold out a hand and take my money.

At short notice he stepped in and serviced my bike. He serviced it again last year as well as other open heart engine surgery and replacements thus saving me a disaster on a long awaited Alps & Garmisch trip.

a very satisfied customer :thumb2
 
Yep, he's a top guy and I don't let anyone else touch my bikes. As you say, he's a proper engineer and not just a fitter.
 
His location and contact details might help others find him...
 
Thanks for the reminder,must contact him to book mine in for its annual service, top bloke indeed.
 
What's this season thing? When does it start? Have I missed it?

Not missed anything yet mate but here is what you do:

Around Easter, or after the first MotoGP whichever comes first. go into your garage and dig out your R1 from under all those warm blankets. Polish the shit out of it but don't bother checking tyre pressures, oil or any other boring shit like that.

Go to the wardrobe and make sure you choose the latest leathers, with a hump of course, and a matching Arai helmet with 46 scrawled all over it.

Call your biker mates and arrange to meet at the local cafe at around 1pm. Put your leathers on, shuffle towards your bike looking like an Orang Utan dying for a shit. Start the old girl up for the first time in 6 months and warm it up by bouncing it off the rev limiter a few times to make sure your neighbours know you are a real biker.

Engage 1st, drop the clutch as the engine redlines and lurch down the road thinking you are pulling an impressive power wheelie whilst systematically wrecking your head bearings.

Ride the 15 miles down to the cafe non stop, grab a coffee and lean on the railings admiring your steed and wait for your biker mates. When they turn up, laugh and chat about all the polish you've got, how you are going to do some real riding that season and reach the hallowed 2000 mile limit and chat about how you scared the shit out of that old couple in their Morris Minor whilst overtaking on a blind bend across double whites. They were going too slow the idiots.

Finally spend 10 minutes taking the piss out of the Adventure bike rider who can't even be arsed to clean his bike with witty quips like "who do you think you are, Ewan Fucking McGregor?", "Fuck me mate, that thing will be worthless with 15k on the clock", "you look a right c*nt in that peaked lid and goretex stuff" and "I bet you got those stickers on fleabay" whilst laughing that you can't ride all the way to Italy on a bike because your mate said there is no fuel on sundays.

You then ride 15 miles home and spend the next 3 hours detailing the bike with your wifes toothbrush before relaxing in front of the TV watching the GP and calling Casey Stoner a useless c*nt and you could do what he does because you got your knee down on the Tesco roundabout.


Repeat weekly until the temps drop below 12 degrees c and declare the season over.

You should be OK Harry:thumb
 
He is a bloody decent chap and I'm sure a very competent engineer / technician .......

........ Doesn't stop him being a fecking Mill stealing bastid though! :D

(No Mike, I'm never going to let you live it down! :upyou)
 
Not missed anything yet mate but here is what you do:

Around Easter, or after the first MotoGP whichever comes first. go into your garage and dig out your R1 from under all those warm blankets. Polish the shit out of it but don't bother checking tyre pressures, oil or any other boring shit like that.

Go to the wardrobe and make sure you choose the latest leathers, with a hump of course, and a matching Arai helmet with 46 scrawled all over it.

Call your biker mates and arrange to meet at the local cafe at around 1pm. Put your leathers on, shuffle towards your bike looking like an Orang Utan dying for a shit. Start the old girl up for the first time in 6 months and warm it up by bouncing it off the rev limiter a few times to make sure your neighbours know you are a real biker.

Engage 1st, drop the clutch as the engine redlines and lurch down the road thinking you are pulling an impressive power wheelie whilst systematically wrecking your head bearings.

Ride the 15 miles down to the cafe non stop, grab a coffee and lean on the railings admiring your steed and wait for your biker mates. When they turn up, laugh and chat about all the polish you've got, how you are going to do some real riding that season and reach the hallowed 2000 mile limit and chat about how you scared the shit out of that old couple in their Morris Minor whilst overtaking on a blind bend across double whites. They were going too slow the idiots.

Finally spend 10 minutes taking the piss out of the Adventure bike rider who can't even be arsed to clean his bike with witty quips like "who do you think you are, Ewan Fucking McGregor?", "Fuck me mate, that thing will be worthless with 15k on the clock", "you look a right c*nt in that peaked lid and goretex stuff" and "I bet you got those stickers on fleabay" whilst laughing that you can't ride all the way to Italy on a bike because your mate said there is no fuel on sundays.

You then ride 15 miles home and spend the next 3 hours detailing the bike with your wifes toothbrush before relaxing in front of the TV watching the GP and calling Casey Stoner a useless c*nt and you could do what he does because you got your knee down on the Tesco roundabout.


Repeat weekly until the temps drop below 12 degrees c and declare the season over.

You should be OK Harry:thumb

Excellent post! 10/10.
 
Excellent post! 10/10.

Made me smile there Sgt Bilco. :thumb

Sometimes I get thoughts like that in my head.....but then when its actually written down by someone else I think WTF, you cynical, grumpy, intolerant, narrow minded, blinkered old cnut.:D

I really am a shallow fickle fekka aren't I !

:augie
 
Mikey sorted out my final drive, Paralever bearings and new disc when they all came due. He even posted the casing back to me so I could have it powder coated to match the other stuff I was having done. Top service at a great price. Thanks Mike.
 
...........whilst laughing that you can't ride all the way to Italy on a bike because your mate said there is no fuel on sundays.

..................

You're kidding me!?! I thought it was just France.

Ah well, that's another country off the list of places I can visit :(

Andres
 
Now where can I put this?

Pouring-RotopaX-4-Gallon-1.jpg


Don't go cornering too hard. But its chain drive so clearly rubbish.

large_2048_3871341319_fc6392a21b.jpg
 
Not missed anything yet mate but here is what you do:

Around Easter, or after the first MotoGP whichever comes first. go into your garage and dig out your R1 from under all those warm blankets. Polish the shit out of it but don't bother checking tyre pressures, oil or any other boring shit like that.

Go to the wardrobe and make sure you choose the latest leathers, with a hump of course, and a matching Arai helmet with 46 scrawled all over it.

Call your biker mates and arrange to meet at the local cafe at around 1pm. Put your leathers on, shuffle towards your bike looking like an Orang Utan dying for a shit. Start the old girl up for the first time in 6 months and warm it up by bouncing it off the rev limiter a few times to make sure your neighbours know you are a real biker.

Engage 1st, drop the clutch as the engine redlines and lurch down the road thinking you are pulling an impressive power wheelie whilst systematically wrecking your head bearings.

Ride the 15 miles down to the cafe non stop, grab a coffee and lean on the railings admiring your steed and wait for your biker mates. When they turn up, laugh and chat about all the polish you've got, how you are going to do some real riding that season and reach the hallowed 2000 mile limit and chat about how you scared the shit out of that old couple in their Morris Minor whilst overtaking on a blind bend across double whites. They were going too slow the idiots.

Finally spend 10 minutes taking the piss out of the Adventure bike rider who can't even be arsed to clean his bike with witty quips like "who do you think you are, Ewan Fucking McGregor?", "Fuck me mate, that thing will be worthless with 15k on the clock", "you look a right c*nt in that peaked lid and goretex stuff" and "I bet you got those stickers on fleabay" whilst laughing that you can't ride all the way to Italy on a bike because your mate said there is no fuel on sundays.

You then ride 15 miles home and spend the next 3 hours detailing the bike with your wifes toothbrush before relaxing in front of the TV watching the GP and calling Casey Stoner a useless c*nt and you could do what he does because you got your knee down on the Tesco roundabout.


Repeat weekly until the temps drop below 12 degrees c and declare the season over.

You should be OK Harry:thumb

:blast i'll get my coat, though i hav'nt got a hump
 


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