The sunny side of the classic world, with the VJMC’S Steve Cooper
There are times when we could all do with a bit of help and if we are brutally honest such occasions are more frequent that we’d like to admit. If we make the leap of faith that a lot of stuff, but not everything, on the classic scene is done by blokes then there’s also very often an intrinsically huge impediment to what we try to achieve. This oft ignored elephant in the room is called ego. It’s something us chaps are rather good at but very often it’s not the posturing, bathed-in-your-own-reflected-glory, willy-waving sort; oh no. It’s that nagging, shoulder-riding, whispering in your ear ego that tells you the job has to be sussed out and sussed out now. Most of us know the scenario – it’s an apparently simple task that you’ve undertaken numerous times before so it ought to be easy. However, when it comes to it the reality is at odds with the expectation. The more you try the harder the undertaking becomes, expected outcomes are not what should be happening and then the frustration levels begin to rise. Inextricably linked to these ever increasing echelons of angst comes the supposedly attention focussing adrenaline rush which is about as helpful as dry rot in a pirate’s wooden leg. Common sense says walk away, the enormity of potentially disastrous failure should make you stop. Logic says this will only end in heartache etc. If you’ve been there before hopefully you will desist, put down the tools, walk away, turn your back on the job, shut the shed door or similar. Because if you don’t and just like your old mum would tell you – there’ll be tears! Having chased the seat of the Yamaha RD350 around the table for what seemed like hours with a rapidly increasing pulse rate offset by a precipitously lower level of concentration, the light bulb of logic finally glowed. There was no way I could get the seat cover to fit and stay in place under the clips. Yes I’d done seat re-covering before and with good results; the difference was that previous covers could be held down by the seat base’s spikes. Attempting the same with bend-over clips was akin to trying to persuade a family of liberally buttered sea otters into an old Wellington boot. The nice UPS man collected the box of seat parts ready to deliver to P&K Seating. As proprietor Phil Turner commented: “Sometimes they can be right swines!” Don’t beat yourself up about the stuff you can’t do; farm it out to those that can and get on with the stuff you can do. Turns out I’d been sold a duff foam on ebay – which just goes to show sometimes stuff goes wrong for the right reasons!