You could say motorcycling and Brit Iron are in my blood. My granddad lived in London, never owned a car, but rode British motorbikes. My dad was a Rocker in the late 50s and early 60s and frequented the Ace Caf�. He said the place was so dirty you could lube your chain with the grease on the tables!

I’ve been riding since 1982, occasionally stopping to eat, sleep, and immigrate to the U.S., raise a family, and work. Thankfully since 2000 I’ve worked in the motorcycle industry, so even when I’m a working stiff I still get my motorcycle fix.

Every motorcyclist, even those who seem mild-mannered and conservative, has a hint of the rebel in them. Let’s face it, motorcycling has inherent risks, it’s not for the faint of heart, and you need a certain amount of the-devil-may-care attitude, so just by riding you’re a rebel against mainstream conceptions social propriety and self preservation.

There are lots of great motorcycles out there and I’ve owned and ridden quite a few of them. A motorcycle is my primary mode of transportation, ergo I’m a motorcycle rebel, but foremost I’m a Brit Iron Rebel.

Never trust a person without a vice. Mine is motorcycling, trust me!

Cheers,

Blighty.