Bunch of stuff showed up this weekend while I was in PA putting my dad's stuff in a truck with him and my brother. Pretty boring picture-wise, though - brake line, clutch cable, a patch to sew on the jacket, starter plug from PJ, and a couple other things.
But I wanted to show this off.
While we were putting stuff in boxes, my brother and I paused every so often to tell my pop we were going to throw something in 'our piles'; a toolbox I made when I was six or seven, a diecast dump truck my son can play with now, my baseball mitt...that kind of stuff. I snagged my dad's old Belstaff oiled jacket with a promise that if I used it regularly I would grab a set of limb tubes to wear with it.
I have mentioned here a couple of times that my dad was a BMW mechanic when he was in his 20s; he and a couple of his friends opened up a shop outside Colorado Springs and used it as a spot to work on the racing hack and, to the best of my inference, make up crazy stories that none us completely believe, but love to listen to (like the Boeing engineer who showed up with everything he owned in a truck to learn how to turn a wrench for himself, or the guy who ran a Norton with a holed piston on a two-day diet of amphetamines until he got the bike to the shop, turned it off for the last time, and then took it out back and shot it with a 44).
One of the things he had left over from that part of his life - along with the crate of /5 and /6 parts and a flywheel with so many holes in it it's more air than steel - was a Malcom Smith Racing t-shirt that I have been trying to find a copy of for years. The guy I talked to at MSR told me that if I found one, to give him a call, because he was looking for one too.
Friday afternoon my brother dropped it on the table next to me because he figured it was my turn to wear it for a while, and I was surely glad to see it again. Looked better on my dad, but I'll grow in to it eventually.
But I wanted to show this off.
While we were putting stuff in boxes, my brother and I paused every so often to tell my pop we were going to throw something in 'our piles'; a toolbox I made when I was six or seven, a diecast dump truck my son can play with now, my baseball mitt...that kind of stuff. I snagged my dad's old Belstaff oiled jacket with a promise that if I used it regularly I would grab a set of limb tubes to wear with it.
I have mentioned here a couple of times that my dad was a BMW mechanic when he was in his 20s; he and a couple of his friends opened up a shop outside Colorado Springs and used it as a spot to work on the racing hack and, to the best of my inference, make up crazy stories that none us completely believe, but love to listen to (like the Boeing engineer who showed up with everything he owned in a truck to learn how to turn a wrench for himself, or the guy who ran a Norton with a holed piston on a two-day diet of amphetamines until he got the bike to the shop, turned it off for the last time, and then took it out back and shot it with a 44).
One of the things he had left over from that part of his life - along with the crate of /5 and /6 parts and a flywheel with so many holes in it it's more air than steel - was a Malcom Smith Racing t-shirt that I have been trying to find a copy of for years. The guy I talked to at MSR told me that if I found one, to give him a call, because he was looking for one too.
Friday afternoon my brother dropped it on the table next to me because he figured it was my turn to wear it for a while, and I was surely glad to see it again. Looked better on my dad, but I'll grow in to it eventually.
