The [URL="http://www.baritaliasoho.co.uk/"]Bar Italia[/URL] scooter club were having an event on saturday. Meet at the london eye, then ride to Greenwich naval museum where all the scooters would be parked up and on display. Anyone welcome.
Sounded promising, as did the weather forecast for the day.
So, with an italian theme in mind off i rode for an authentic italian coffee from the fabled Mirko, an italian who serves coffee from his Type 2 volkswagon van on the portabello road .
I should have taken my old Guzzi, but it's sat asleep in the back of the garage since last november and unsurprisingly the battery had gone flat. So i compromised and made do with a bmw but wearing an open faced italian Momo crash helmet and a pair of hand made italian loafers and an italian button down collar shirt.
First stop portabello road under the westway, where i bumped into an old mate charlie ( ukgser user name CharlieB).
Charlie likes to fly low under the radar on ukgser, but when he's not filming on the latest bond movie or other blockbusters he sells old tat in portabello market, and keeps an old airhead in his Buenos aires drum. And has a scary tale to tell of moroccan dentists...
Excellent coffee, fresh from the back of a camper van. Paid for with a dodgy tenner. A good start.
Next on todays Italian list is food.
Just off portabello is an old favourite italian restaurant that specialises in fish.
I get a window seat so i can ogle the women (an italian tradition) and ask the waitress, Raffina the red head, for some of that "italian tapas" they do so well..
Harry the ersatz italian chef knocks me up some dishes of Octopus with baby baked potatoes, squid with wild rice and chopped prawns with potato and pesto.
Mama mia issa da time to make a da move to the london eye(tie).
Quick blat across town overtaking a few late scooteristas in a hurry and pulled up just in time.
The hordes of scooters were just about to leave. I couldn't help noticing that scooteristas seem to have the same problems with over enthusiastic pie arms as GS owners..
i'd forgotten the evocative smell of two stroke exhaust fumes. And how blinding, especially with hundreds of the noisy feckers ring-dinging merrily away.
I took the short route to greenwich as didn't fancy riding in a haze of toxic exhaust gases.
It was good to see some jurassic mods and well turned out riders.
No longer fresh faced and with the young "I hope I die before I get old, why don't you f f f f ade away"" look, more a case of " hello mrs jones, how's your Berts lumbago" scenerio nowadys. And not a twat suit in sight.
.
TBC
Sounded promising, as did the weather forecast for the day.
So, with an italian theme in mind off i rode for an authentic italian coffee from the fabled Mirko, an italian who serves coffee from his Type 2 volkswagon van on the portabello road .
I should have taken my old Guzzi, but it's sat asleep in the back of the garage since last november and unsurprisingly the battery had gone flat. So i compromised and made do with a bmw but wearing an open faced italian Momo crash helmet and a pair of hand made italian loafers and an italian button down collar shirt.
First stop portabello road under the westway, where i bumped into an old mate charlie ( ukgser user name CharlieB).
Charlie likes to fly low under the radar on ukgser, but when he's not filming on the latest bond movie or other blockbusters he sells old tat in portabello market, and keeps an old airhead in his Buenos aires drum. And has a scary tale to tell of moroccan dentists...
Excellent coffee, fresh from the back of a camper van. Paid for with a dodgy tenner. A good start.
Next on todays Italian list is food.
Just off portabello is an old favourite italian restaurant that specialises in fish.
I get a window seat so i can ogle the women (an italian tradition) and ask the waitress, Raffina the red head, for some of that "italian tapas" they do so well..
Harry the ersatz italian chef knocks me up some dishes of Octopus with baby baked potatoes, squid with wild rice and chopped prawns with potato and pesto.
Mama mia issa da time to make a da move to the london eye(tie).
Quick blat across town overtaking a few late scooteristas in a hurry and pulled up just in time.
The hordes of scooters were just about to leave. I couldn't help noticing that scooteristas seem to have the same problems with over enthusiastic pie arms as GS owners..
i'd forgotten the evocative smell of two stroke exhaust fumes. And how blinding, especially with hundreds of the noisy feckers ring-dinging merrily away.
I took the short route to greenwich as didn't fancy riding in a haze of toxic exhaust gases.
It was good to see some jurassic mods and well turned out riders.
No longer fresh faced and with the young "I hope I die before I get old, why don't you f f f f ade away"" look, more a case of " hello mrs jones, how's your Berts lumbago" scenerio nowadys. And not a twat suit in sight.
TBC
