This book includes some of the greats of the scrambling world – Dave Bickers, John Banks, Rob Taylor – and others not, perhaps, quite so well known. From the hard-riding Devon farmer John Trible, Gloucester ace Tommy Barker, and Six Days trials star Eric Chilton, to the last ever interview with Olga Kevelos, a true star.
This is the first book to solely concentrate on the British-powered café racer motorcycle. Renewed interest in custom British café conversions is illustrated with stunning images of select sporting, racing, and ‘café’d’ British motorcycles. From single-cylinder to four-cylinder variants – see the ‘café’d’ side of British bikes!
Researched in incredible detail, this book explores the story of the timeless VW bus, from early origins through to the present day. This entirely new edition includes details of many of the different camper conversions, and examines the social history and the T2’s evolution. Including full specifications, production figures and buying advice, this is a must for any VW enthusiast.
Eighteen million Vespas have buzzed their way into the world since 1946. Stood end to end, they would form a line measuring 32,000 kilometres – 20,000 miles – in length. This is an almost inconceivable statistic, as with many things that transcend conventional measures and at some point achieve cult status. How did the little machine come so far? The answer is simple. The Vespa has always remained the Vespa, true to itself, and has what others lack: real character! This book tells the Vespa’s story via over 470 photos, corrects many misconceptions and lets the reader become immersed in the culture of Vespa and la bella vita.
British motorcycle racing in the golden age of the big single
Author: Bob Guntrip
Pubpsher: Veloce Publishing Ltd
Category: Sports & Recreation
Racing Line is the story of big-bike racing in Britain during the 1960s – when the British racing single reached its peak; when exciting racing unfolded at circuits across the land every summer; and when Britain took its last great generation of riding talent and engineering skill to the world.
Example in this ebook CHAPTER XXXII. Left to themselves, Millefleurs and Beaufort stood opposite to each other for a moment with some embarrassment. To have anything to do with a quarrel is always painful for the third person; and it was so entirely unexpected, out of the way of all his habits, that Beaufort felt himself exceptionally incapable of dealing with it. "Millefleurs," he said with hesitation, "I don't understand all this. That was a very strange tone to take in speaking to—a friend." He felt for the first time like a tutor discharging an uncomfortable office, knowing that it must be done, yet that he was not the man to do it, and that of all the youthful individuals in the world, the last person to be so lectured was Millefleurs. "Naturally you think so. The circumstances make all the difference, don't you know," said Millefleurs, with his ordinary composure. "And the situation. In 'Frisco it might not have been of any great consequence. Helping a bully out of the world is not much of a crime there. But then it's never hushed up. No one makes a secret of it: that is the thing that sets one's blood up, don't you know. Not for Torrance's sake—who, so far as I can make out, was a cad—or poor Lady Car's, to whom it's something like a deliverance——" "Torrance!" cried Beaufort, with a gasp. "Lady—Car! Do you mean to say——" "Then——" said Millefleurs, "he never told you? That is a curious piece of evidence. They do things straightforward in Denver City—not like that. He never spoke of an event which had made the country ring——" "Torrance!" repeated Beaufort, bewildered. The world seemed all to reel about him. He gazed at his companion with eyes wide opened but scarcely capable of vision. By-and-by he sat down abruptly on the nearest chair. He did not hear what Millefleurs was saying. Presently he turned to him, interrupting him unconsciously. "Torrance!" he repeated; "let there be no mistake. You mean the man—to whom Carry—Lady Caroline—was married?" Millefleurs fixed upon him his little keen black eyes. He recalled to himself tones and looks which had struck him at the moment, on which he had not been able to put any interpretation. He nodded his head without saying anything. He was as keen after any piece of human history as a hound on a scent. And now he was too much interested, too eager for new information, to speak. "And it happened," said Beaufort, "on Thursday—on the day I arrived?" He drew a long breath to relieve his breast, then waved his hand. "Yes; if that is all, Erskine told me of it," he said. "You have something to do with them also, old fellow," said Millefleurs, patting him on the shoulder. "I knew there was something. Come along and walk with me. I must see it out; but perhaps we had better not meet again just now—Erskine and I, don't you know. Perhaps I was rude. Come along; it is your duty to get me out of harm's way. Was there anything remarkable, by the way, in the fact that this happened just when you arrived?" To be continue in this ebook
Example in this ebook CHAPTER XXXVII. CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF WHAT PASSED BETWEEN MR. AND MRS. BUMBLE AND MONKS, AT THEIR NOCTURNAL INTERVIEW. It was a dull, close, overcast summer evening, when the clouds, which had been threatening all day, spread out in a dense and sluggish mass of vapour, already yielded large drops of rain, and seemed to presage a violent thunderstorm,—as Mr. and Mrs. Bumble, turning out of the main street of the town, directed their course towards a scattered little colony of ruinous houses, distant from it some mile and a-half, or thereabouts, and erected on a low unwholesome swamp, bordering upon the river. They were both wrapped in old and shabby outer garments, which might perhaps serve the double purpose of protecting their persons from the rain, and sheltering them from observation; the husband carried a lantern, from which, however, no light yet shone, and trudged on a few paces in front, as though—the way being dirty—to give his wife the benefit of treading in his heavy foot-prints. They went on in profound silence; every now and then Mr. Bumble relaxed his pace, and turned his head round, as if to make sure that his helpmate was following, and, discovering that she was close at his heels, mended his rate of walking, and proceeded at a considerable increase of speed towards their place of destination. This was far from being a place of doubtful character, for it had long been known as the residence of none but low and desperate ruffians, who, under various pretences of living by their labour, subsisted chiefly on plunder and crime. It was a collection of mere hovels, some hastily built with loose bricks, and others of old worm-eaten ship timber, jumbled together without any attempt at order or arrangement, and planted, for the most part, within a few feet of the river’s bank. A few leaky boats drawn up on the mud, and made fast to the dwarf wall which skirted it, and here and there an oar or coil of rope, appeared at first to indicate that the inhabitants of these miserable cottages pursued some avocation on the river; but a glance at the shattered and useless condition of the articles thus displayed would have led a passerby without much difficulty to the conjecture that they were disposed there, rather for the preservation of appearances than with any view to their being actually employed. In the heart of this cluster of huts, and skirting the river, which its upper stories overhung, stood a large building formerly used as a manufactory of some kind, and which had in its day probably furnished employment to the inhabitants of the surrounding tenements. But it had long since gone to ruin. The rat, the worm, and the action of the damp, had weakened and rotted the piles on which it stood, and a considerable portion of the building had already sunk down into the water beneath, while the remainder, tottering and bending over the dark stream, seemed to wait a favourable opportunity of following its old companion, and involving itself in the same fate. It was before this ruinous building that the worthy couple paused as the first peal of distant thunder reverberated in the air, and the rain commenced pouring violently down. “The place should be somewhere here,” said Bumble, consulting a scrap of paper he held in his hand. “Halloa there!” cried a voice from above. Following the sound, Bumble raised his head, and descried a man looking out of a door, breast-high, on the second story. “Stand still a minute,” cried the voice; “I’ll be with you directly.” With which the head disappeared, and the door closed. To be continue in this ebook
Vampire Hunter D takes on his greatest challenge yet! The ruthless vampire Noble General Gaskell commands the loyalty of some of the most infamous and deadly vampires in history, and Gaskell has no patience for D's interference, heroic or not! With the odds stacked against him, D must prevail — or perish * Features seven gorgeous black-and-white line illustrations by Yoshitaka Amano.
The war with the Zombie Priest heats up in the latest new edition of a classic Goon volume. Taking a cue from the great movie posters of the thirties and forties, this collection features a beautiful new cover by Eric Powell! The saga of Lonely Street takes turns both tragic and hilarious, as Goon and friends are forced to confront their tragic pasts, a tentacled creature from space and its mediocre Interdimensional-to-English Dictionary menace the docks, and Goon must withstand the coming of El Hombre del Lagarto! Plus, Mike Mignola cowrites and illustrates an appearance by Hellboy, in one of the strangest crossovers of all time. For those new to The Goon, these editions are a perfect place to start! • This volume collects The Goon #5-#8. • Featuring Mike Mignola and Hellboy! • New cover by Eric Powell!