Talking of heroes (see post below), it's quite odd to now be in a position where I'm regularly rubbing shoulders with motorcycle people I have long admired.At Yokohama, there were plenty of characters whose work I have pored over in magazines through the years and who most people would jump at the chance of meeting: Cole Foster, Rico, Duane Ballard, Ian Barry etc etc. But I'm not an outgoing person and generally can't bring myself to do one of those dorky "I've loved your work for years, uh uh, I publish a magazine called..." intros.
Jeff Decker, of course, is one of those people I've admired as an artist and builder for many years. So when someone tapped me on the shoulder and asked about the Pendleton shirt I was wearing at the Mooneyes afterparty, I was more than surprised to discover it was Jeff. His tone was so familiar and friendly, and he was so smiley, I presumed he knew who I was and launched into a typically English ironic (and supposedly humorous) ramble about how I only wore Pendletons because he was my hero and I'd studied his own shirts for years.
His face fell slightly as I wittered on. Then he looked downright puzzled. He may even have stepped back away from me as my realisation that he had no idea who I was kicked in and made me talk even faster.
Finally, "What's your name?" he asked warily, from a safer distance away.
Apologies Jeff. I'd drunk a lot of beer and my heroes don't generally have a habit of admiring my shirts.
(For those of you who love a vintage shadow plaid shirt, the one he coveted is the top left shirt in this old ad, kindly supplied by Pat who witnessed the whole sorry incident.)
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