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[activeliftingequipment]

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[thirtyisdirty]

Secrets We Keep - chapter 1

I did a thing and posted a new story. I hinestly havent written fanfiction actively since 2013/2014 or so and only wrote a one shot Harry Potter fic. The rest were written many moons ago about a now defunct soap opera called Passions. This story has been ruminating in my mind for about a decade. I hope I can do justice to what's in my brain. Totally Au.

Trigger Warning: mentions of infertility

Ron’s eyes scanned the window of the jewelry store in Muggle London. He’d been there before - plenty of times, actually. There was a jewelry store Hermione fancied.  Their designs were different and for some reason caught her eye more than the goblin made pieces he’d find in Diagon Alley. It had to be perfect.  They’d been through so much in the last few years.  The tears and heartache were so fresh in his mind.  The pavé rose pendant shone in the overhead lights – Ron knew this was exactly what he had been looking for.  In a few months, their little Rose would arrive and hopefully, heal so much of the pain they’d been through.

              With his hand on the buzzer to allow entrance to the store.  That was when he noticed it.  The signage on the shop was levitating.  Ron smile to himself and looked around to find the source.  Of course, there were other Wizards and Witches who frequented Muggle London but, he knew this magic was done by a child who had just discovered the things they could do.

              Ron smiled thinking of the trouble he and his siblings had gotten into as children. Interest piqued, he looked around the square to see if he could place the little witch or wizard in training. His eyes fell on a little girl with a mop of dark curls and brilliant emerald eyes that were full of delight as she ran from the woman desperately trying to keep up with her.

              “Maia,” she called frantically.

              Not looking back Ron watched as she made a beeline for the flowers, she’d set to change color.

Against his better judgement, he headed her off, his height and long gait made ten times the progress of her chubby little legs.  He sat on the bench in front of the girl, not wanting to alarm her.

              “Hullo there,” Ron said as he corralled her in the small benched area.  He swallowed hard when her lashes lifted and he was met with brilliant green eyes, the eyes of his best friend on a miniature version of his wife.

              “Ron?” the familiar voice called from behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. 

Ron gave his mother-in-law a crooked smile. “Hullo Thea,” he greeted.

“Won!”

Ron jerked his head back to the little girl with the impish grin.

“Won!” she called again and used his long legs to help her climb the bench beside him.  Her balance not quite perfect, Ron grabbed her before she could tumble backwards onto the concrete.  It’s an instinct he never knew he had.

She giggled and hugged his neck. “Won help My-my.” She planted a kiss on his cheek and Ron’s heart melted instantaneously. Before he knows it, chubby little arms are around his neck.

He’d been angry for so long he’d neglected to realize that there was someone else involved that was perhaps more innocent than any of them.

“Hug Won!” she demanded in a voice so much like her mother that Ron didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry but, as he did when it came to Hermione, he obliged.

Thea Granger seemed to sense her son-in-law’s internal turmoil and pried her granddaughter off him.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered gathering the little girl in her arms.

In an attempt to bring the attention away from the rambunctious girl in her arms, Thea asks “So, what brings you to this part of London?”

Ron’s eyes never leave Maia. “I wanted to buy Hermione something for when the baby is born,” he says absently.

“The baby?” Thea’s brows are furrowed when Ron looks back up at her.

“Her-Hermione didn’t tell you?” Ron frowned.  She seemed so excited

Thea sits beside him, clutching her granddaughter tighter. “Hermione hasn’t spoken to me since she dropped Maia at my door.

Ron pondered this a moment. “So, she’s never-“

Thea shook her head.  He tried his best to wrap his brain around the fact that his wife, the woman who had so desperately wanted children, hadn’t laid eyes on her own in the last year and a half. And now, he’d had more interaction with her little girl than Hermione had ever had. For Merlin’s sake, he’d even hugged the girl.

“How could she just leave her?” Ron asked. “And not tell you about the baby?”

Thea looked at her granddaughter sadly. “I wouldn’t presume to know what my daughter is thinking.  I’ve barely seen her since she was eleven anyway.”

In that moment, Ron realized Thea was right, Hermione had spent most of the holidays with his family since their second year at Hogwarts.  Then, there was the year she’d sent her parents to Australia.

“I haven’t tried to keep her away,” Ron sputtered running a hand through his hair.

“Dear,” Thea sighed taking Ron’s hand.  “Does anyone make Hermione do things she doesn’t want to do?”

“Won!” Maia shrieked “Ook!” with that, the colors of the flowers in the closest planter began changing color.  It was like she knew what she was doing, Ron mused.  Instantly, he realized the danger of exposure.

“Uh-Maia, let’s play a little game.” The girl freed herself from her grandmother and managed to stand on Ron’s legs.  “Let’s try to only play with the flowers at home,” he suggested. “What do you say?” he poked her belly making her laugh in the process.

“No!” the colors became brighter and far more noticeable.

“What if I gave you ice cream?” he asked.

“I cream! I cream! I cream!” she chanted jumping on his lap

“Really Ronald? Before lunch? Honestly,” Thea sighed.  Maia would be a sticky mess and wouldn’t eat anything she tried to give her in terms of real food. She very quickly felt bad for scolding her son-in-law. “Alright,” she said defeated.

“I was actually wondering if you would mind very much if I took her myself?”

Ron’s face looked so very hopeful, especially when he added, “Y’know, I’m going to need some practice.”

Thea laughed and gestured to the ice cream shoppe across the way. The truth was, she could use some time alone.  She wasn’t as young as when Hermione was a baby.

Forgetting about the gift for Hermione entirely, Ron grabbed the diaper bag and excited little girl and made his way to the shoppe. 

How was it, he wondered, he could think so far as bringing her to Diagon Alley, sending her to Hogwarts, teaching her to ride a broom, all within having met her not half an hour before. Where did this feeling come from?

*~*~*~*~*~*

Ron took his wife’s hand and led her toward their kitchen table where dinner was waiting.  He’d left a little rose in a bud vase in front of her place setting as he’d done at nearly every meal they’d shared since reconciling. 

His level of devotion overwhelmed Hermione.  Here she was, the one who, in her own eyes, didn’t even deserve forgiveness, and Ron was still fawning over her.

She lightly touched the velvety petals and looked up at her husband with a smile.  She held his hand tighter.  She wouldn’t take his love for granted again. Ever.

“’Mione?” Ron brought her hand to his lips and then dropped it to his chest. “If I tell you something could you promise to maybe try and stay calm?” He felt her hand tense and knew immediately what she could be thinking.  “It’s nothing like that,” he assured hurriedly.

Hermione stared at her husband pointedly. “Well?” her brows rose as she sipped the water at her place setting.

“I was in muggle London a couple of weeks ago.”

“O-Ok…” Confused, she wordlessly urged him on.

“I ran into your Mum.” He met her eyes to gauge her reaction, “and Maia.”

Her breath hitches.  “Ron,” she tests her voice and looks at his feet.

“Maia was with her,” he says softly. “I took her for ice cream.” He adds with a half-smile.

Hermione’s head shoots up and her eyes search his. “I think your mum was a tad put out because it was before lunch.” It was if she had forgotten to breathe.  Ron had taken her daughter for ice cream. The child she hadn’t seen since she was days old.

“I would like to bring her home, Hermione.”

“Ron,” she begins softly. “She’s not…” she looks away, ashamed.

“She can be.” He cups her chin in his thumb and forefinger and brings her gaze to meet his.

“How would this even work Ronald? How could we bring her here?” her throat is tight, but she continues. “Your Mum and Dad would hate her for starters.  Then there’s Ginny.  She’s barely speaking to me as it is.

“I’ll tell her it’s my idea.” He sits in the seat beside Hermione. “It is my idea.”

“No, she’s better off with my Mum.  We’re all better off that she’s with my Mum.”

“No, we’re not.” He says shaking his head.  “We’re doing her a disservice not raising her.”

“Really Ron,” Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes

“She’s showing abilities already.” With this, Hermione seemed intrigued, Ron continued. “Your mum said when you were a child, you were like her though she didn’t put it together until you were older and your abilities didn’t begin quite so young.”

Hermione let out a breath.  He’s speaking of her daughter with something akin to pride. “If we talk to the family – get their buy-in?” he asks.

Her eyes are wet.  When did she start crying?

“We talk to Harry and Gin first.” Her voice is barely audible as he gathered her in his arms and kissed her soundly.

“I don’t think this will be a problem.”

Hermione rests her head on her husband’s chest.  “You’ve clearly not spoken to your sister recently,” she muttered.

 

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione and Harry had barely been near one another since before Maia’s birth. They’d spent functions at the Burrow as far away from one another as possible. To say being at the same table together was uncomfortable was an understatement.

Not that the Burrow had been neutral territory, it most certainly wasn’t but, it was a far sight better than Harry and Ginny’s home.

 

Since the affair – could you deem a one night stand an affair? Maybe when a child was involved, she mused. Hermione had received quite the cold shoulder from Molly.  Not that she’d expected the woman to welcome her back with open arms but, she’d hoped for at least the same treatment Harry had received.  Silent treatment for a few weeks, followed by annoyed glances, a talking to, the likes he’d never seen before, even when doing something incredibly dangerous like bringing her youngest son along on a horcrux hunt. It had taken some time, but she’d returned to being his surrogate mother.

Was it that she, Hermione, should have known better? Her mother-in-law surely didn’t know the desperation and heartbreak of trying for years to have a baby only to be met month after month with failure. She didn’t know the way it ate at your soul until you were just a husk of a person. She didn’t know the way it felt to let your husband, your partner in everything down month after month as you were sure he was tired of reassuring you when you couldn’t reassure yourself that one day you would in fact have a child.

She didn’t know that the hormones you would ingest and shoot into your body just to have a fraction of the number of children she’d borne would give you hot flashes, mood swings, bouts of rage and frustration. She didn’t know the oceans of tears that had fallen from your eyes. Until one day when you watched your husband with his new nephew, your best friends son and while he doesn’t know you’re there, you hear him speak to the baby and wonder if he will ever get to hold someone so new that’s his.  Wonder if he will ever wake up in the middle of the night to change diapers or warm bottles. To hear his innermost doubts about their future.

And that’s when you finally crumble inside.  That’s when you pack just enough clothes and items to get by.  Your husband is too good of a man to leave you.  You feel completely broken inside.  These are things a woman should be able to do and do easily, are they not?  and find a flat near the ministry.  Your job is the only thing you have anyway.

After not taking any visitors for months, your best friend shows at your door with a bottle of firewhiskey.  It’s an expensive bottle.  He’s got the galleons.  His son hasn’t slept through the night in the last two months and he’s losing his mind. When you’ve had half a bottle of very expensive firewhiskey, your mind does very stupid things.  It reaches for comfort first of all – especially when you’ve devoid yourself of human contact for the better part of two months. She doesn’t know who reaches out to the other first, but she does remember tracing his scar with her index finger.  Very gently.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he says stupidly, green eyes never leaving hers. “It used to burn when he was trying to get into my mind. It sounds crazy but, it was lonely at first – after that connection was broken.”

She knows all about lonely and broken connections. His eyes settle on her mouth and then back up to her eyes.  Perhaps this is what Ron was afraid of when they were searching for Horcruxes.  Perhaps this is what she should have been afraid of when she let Harry in earlier in the evening. Perhaps firewhiskey and an empty stomach don’t mix.  His body moves over hers and before she her brain can catch up to what’s happening, their clothes are gone from their bodies and in a heap on the floor.

She knows she’s awake first because the sunlight streams into her eyes and Harry is beside her on the floor with nothing on but his glasses which are askew on his nose. She throws a pillow at him to cover up and he awakens with a start. Black hair standing on end, he tries to focus and realigns his glasses as she clutches a hand to her head.  They both realize very quickly that she is naked as well.  She grabs the blanket from the other side of the sofa and covers her bare body.

What had they done?

[hey--its--jess]

Summary: "If she had asked she would have learned that Aziraphale felt betrayed. He was angry. He was cursing Crowley, and the ineffable plan, and Above, and Below. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way." In which Azirphale finds a scorch mark and a puddle of...something...in Crowley's office and makes assumptions. Rating: G

Warnings: This is set primarily in book canon. Follow the link to read the reasoning behind that. Also, this is the first time in two years that I have written and posted a fanfiction. I am rusty.

Aziraphale was not having a particularly good day. Any other time he would have enjoyed the events that preceded his current situation. Visiting Australia and Haiti again was pleasant and then being on TV in America! Oh, Aziraphale could hardly believe that had happened. He was still a little flustered over the host claiming that he was being possessed by a demon. The nerve of that man! Aziraphale was far from a demon, the exact opposite if he’s being precise. Then, he really could have gone without being discorporated in the first place. No matter how nice seeing some of the world again had been. He hadn’t been able to finish telling Crowley about the airbase in Tadfield and the boy Adam Young because of all the losing his body business.

Finding a new body was always such a chore. Aziraphale never quite knew where he was until he found a compatible host and got them to answer him. There tended to be a lot of confusion and yelling before and answer came. Normally, he would have gone back to Heaven, filled out the mounds of paperwork, and wait until he was issued a new one. But today, that was out of the question. It was Saturday, the Very Last Day of the Rest of their Lives. The hosts of Heaven and Hell were currently waiting for the Antichrist to arrive at the designated area and the long prophesied war between the two parties would begin. It was the war that he and Crowley had been working on trying to prevent, mind you.

It took time, more time than he would have liked, but Aziraphale had managed to find a compatible body in England. In London even! Aziraphale’s current body, the lovely Madame Tracy, accompanied by the root cause of his problem, Sergeant Shadwell, were on their way to Mayfair as fast as Madame Tracy’s scooter would go. Which was approximately 5 miles per hour with the two physical bodies aboard. Aziraphale would have preferred to go straight to Tadfield but as soon as Madame Tracy started driving he knew they would not get there fast enough. Besides, he still had to tell Crowley about Adam Young, and once he told him they could take the Bentley. Azirphale knew Crowley’s driving well enough by now to know that they would get there with time to spare. His only hope was that Crowley would be home. The demon had been busy when he tried to call him earlier. Azirphale sensed trouble as soon as the demon has picked up the phone and uttered his first “ngk”. It had been bothering him since the phone call.

Madame Tracy’s scooter pulled up to the front of Crowley’s apartment complex with a soft putputputput.  Sergeant Shadwell all but fell off of the scooter in his haste to be on solid ground, face as grey as the concrete, while Madam Tracy carefully took off her pink helmet.

“We really must hurry my dear lady. Armageddon’s right around the corner and it won’t wait while we dither about," Aziraphale said as Madame Tracy primped her hair after putting the helmet on the seat of her scooter.

“And you’re sure your friend, will take us to Tadfield?” Asked Madame Tracy as her feet took her, quite quickly, towards the entrance of the complex.

“I assure you he will.”

“How will he get through the traffic? It is dreadfully jammed, as you saw on the way here. My scooter barely fit between the cars!”

"Oh, you needn’t worry about that. He has his…ways.”

“I don’t care what ‘e drives. Anythin’ is better than that blasted contraption we ‘ust rode ‘ere on,” Shadwell said following behind Madame Tracy.

Madame Tracy giggled while teasing Shadwell as the two of them entered the lift. She pushed the button to Crowley’s floor setting the elevator into motion. With a ding the lift came to a stop and Madame Tracy was making her way down the hall before the doors had the chance to finish opening. Shadwell tripped in his haste to keep up with the woman. He may not be the brightest, but he was quite sure it wasn’t Madame Tracy in control of the body. It had to be the Southern Pansy. He hadn’t seen the woman move this fast since she was first starting advertising for “Intimate Personal Relaxation and Stress Relief for the Discerning Gentleman” decades ago. Shadwell had been glad when her knees stopped being what they used to be. It meant fewer phone calls and a quieter hallway.

The two came to a stop in front of Crowley’s door. It was slightly ajar. Shadwell looked around waiting for something to happen. "Is this it?"

“Yes, this is it.”

“Why aren’t we going in? The door appears to be open," Madame Tracy asked.

“That would be the problem dear lady. You see, Crowley would never just leave his door open. He’s too private for that,” Aziraphale said, slowly pushing the door open the rest of the way and peeking inside.

“Maybe he was expecting you. You did say you called, correct?”

“Yes, but I didn’t say I was going to stop by,” Aziraphale answered, entering the flat.

Something was off. Aziraphale could feel it. There was a slight buzz in the back of his head the further into the flat he got. It was a familiar buzz. Similar to the buzzing he felt when he goes back to Heaven to give a report, but at a much smaller scale.

Aziraphale called out for Crowley, but only silence answered. Crowley’s flat wasn’t particularly large. It was larger than a standard flat, because that’s what Crowley expected of it, but even with the extra space, he would have heard Aziraphale calling for him.

Aziraphale entered the lounge after checking the kitchen, bedroom and toilet. Crowley only had five rooms in the flat. The buzzing in the back of his head was getting louder and harder to ignore. There was only one thing that the buzzing could be, Holiness.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Aziraphale muttered out loud. “Crowley wouldn’t have anything holy in his apartment except…”

Aziraphale’s eyes landed on the sketch of the Mona Lisa. The sketch was on the floor, leaning against the wall. In the place the sketch should have been was an open safe, an empty open safe that should have been holding an important item that Aziraphale had given to Crowley himself in back in 1967.

“It’s gone,” Aziraphale said, taking a step back.

“What’s gone?” Shadwell asked, squinting at the safe.

Aziraphale didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and rushed to the office, the last room he hadn’t checked. Madame Tracy’s poor heart was hammering in her chest at a speed that was most definitely not healthy for a woman of her age.

“Crowley! My dear, you better be in-“ Aziraphale started, but came to a sudden stop in the doorway, looking at the ground. A small gasp escaped his lips that could have been mistaken for the word ‘no’.

“An’ what are we lookin’ at exactly?” Shadwell asked, peering around Madame Tracy into the office. The office looked clean to Shadwell’s standards. There was a wet spot on the floor by the desk with the head of a plant mister on the floor next to it. Nothing else in the room looked out of place, so Shadwell turned his attention to what Madame Tracy or the Southern Pansy was looking at. Immediately, he scrunched up his nose. What lay before them in a scorch mark on the carpet was a glistening glob of mashed slug looking things with a bucket not too far away. Now that was definitely out of place in the otherwise spotless room.

He turned to Madame Tracy to comment on the disgusting puddle, but instead said, “What ye cryin’ ‘bout wumman? Is jus’ slugs.”

Madame Tracy jumped slightly. Touching her cheeks as if she didn’t know they were wet. She looked at Shadwell, but felt her eyes move back to stare wide-eyed at the mess on the carpet, then to the bucket. “I-I don’t really know Mr. Shadwell…I’m just…overwhelmed with a feeling of sorrow. L-like I just lost something…or someone...”

Shadwell balked as Madame Tracy moved a hand over her chest and clutched at the fabric there as it if was the only thing keeping her grounded. Slowly, she took as step over the scorch mark into the office and looked around as if to make sure the office was truly empty. Turning back to the scorch mark she crouched down and reached out with a shaking hand over the puddle. Her hand hovered over the goo before being pulled back as she quickly stood up.

“Come, there’s no time to waste,” Aziraphale said in a clipped tone, briskly leaving the room.

“What? I thought we came ‘ere to get yer friend,” Shadwell said.

“Unfortunately they are no longer…available,” Aziraphale said. If anyone noticed his voice crack on the last word nobody mentioned it.

“Available? He wasn’t even ‘ere to tell us he’s not. Why not jus' call ‘im again?” Shadwell asked as Madame Tracy ushered him into the elevator. The last thing Shadwell wanted to do was get back on the blasted contraption she called a vehicle.

“Mr. Shadwell!” Madame Tracy scolded. “You are going to listen to Mr. Aziraphale. If he says we’re leaving, we’re leaving. Come on now, we have an Armageddon to stop.”

The elevator reached the ground floor and the two hurried out to the scooter. Once they were situated, with the Thundergun in its place between Shadwell and Madame Tracy they were on their way. With a quick miracle, the scooter was soaring through the sky surrounded by a deep blue nimbus going no more than two hundred miles an hour.

Silence surrounded the small party as they flew. While Aziraphale was able to put himself together on the outside Madame Tracy could tell that something was still amiss. The tears may have stopped, but the pain in her chest was still there. It clamped around her heart and made it hard to breathe.

Underneath the pain, there was something else. If she had asked she would have discovered that Aziraphale felt betrayed. He was angry. He was cursing Crowley, and the ineffable plan, and Above, and Below. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. He had been assured that the holy water was just insurance, in the event that everything went pear-shaped, that it wouldn’t be used as a suicide pill. But the scorch mark in the office was hard to mistake. It was surrounded by holiness and then glistening glob in the middle was in fact not mashed slugs, but the remains of a demon. Aziraphale knew the scene well. He’d had to clean up his fair share of baptized demons back when the human churches were more active.

Crowley had promised him and he had been a fool of an angel who had decided to believe and trust a demon.

The anger was a mask though. Underneath the anger there was a little seed of fear, a thought, that Aziraphale was scared to entertain. Crowley had been talking as he answered the phone. He hadn’t been alone when Aziraphale had called. There was a chance that Crowley’s plan had gone terribly, horribly awry after Aziraphale hung up. That the insurance had backfired on him and whoever had been in the office with him had managed to use the holy water against him. That thought was more terrifying to Aziraphale than thinking Crowley had used it on himself. It was easier to be angry, to be mad that someone had betrayed your trust. It didn’t hurt as much. Knowing that the gift you had given to protect someone dear to you had inadvertently caused their death. Aziraphale couldn’t bear to think about it, so he refused too. There was an Armageddon he needed to stop after all.

Over the flaming ring that was the M25 and through the storm of raining fish they went, reaching Tadfield in record time. A kind gentleman directed them to the airfield and Adam Young, and there they were, arguing with the American guard about why they needed to enter the airbase.

"It really is vitally important that we are allowed to speak to whoever is in charge,”  said Aziraphale. “I really must ask that he’s right, you know, I’d be able to tell if he was lying yes, thank you, I think we’d really achieve something if you kindly allowed me to carry on all right thank you I was trying to put in a good word Yes! Er. You were asking him to yes, all right…now-“      

Shadwell decided, then, it was his turn to threaten the American guard with his finger, claiming that it would send the guard to meet the Maker. Aziraphale and Madame Tracy sighed. One of them put her head in a hand and slowly shook it. Now as not the time for one of Shadwell’s episodes, once he started there was no way of stopping him. The world was ending, the pain in Madame Tracy’s chest wouldn’t go away if anything it was stronger than before, and if Shadwell kept shoving his finger in the guard's face there was absolutely no way they’d be able to get into the airbase.

Pinging noises coming from behind her caused Madame Tracy to turn around and look at the car that just pulled up. The wheels were gone, along with the paintwork and it was billowing blue smoke. It looked as if it had smoked glass windows, but that was just an effect caused by it having ordinary glass windows but a smoke-filled interior.

The driver’s door opened and a cloud of choking fumes got out. Followed shortly by-

"Crowley?” Aziraphale breathed, so quietly that only Madame Tracy knew it had been said.

“Hi,” Crowley said. “How’s it going? Has the world ended yet?”

"He won’t let us in, Crowley.”

“Aziraphale? Is that you? Nice dress,” Crowley said, patting the Bentley.

While the conversation continued on about Armageddon and the car that apparently used to be a Bentley, Madame Tracy could feel a change in her. The tightness that had claimed her heart when they saw that puddle in the office in Mayfair and the anger that had taken hold on the flight to Tadfield had disappeared. It was replaced with relief and a stronger, lighter feeling directed towards the man that showed up in the burning car, the man that currently stared at her in fascination.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new body?” Crowley asked.

"Oh? Yes. Yes, of course. Madame Tracy, this is Crowley. Crowley, Madame Tracy.”

“Charmed I’m sure,” Madame Tracy said, she felt her heart quicken, but it wasn’t because of anything she was feeling.

“Let’s get on in,” Crowley said, turning towards the gates.

The guard had disappeared and the gates had opened during the time Madame Tracy was mulling about the changes in her chest. As she watched a Jeep pull up full of American soldiers and Crowley lift his arms into the air like Bruce Lee and smile Lee van Clef style, Madame Tracy felt the corner of her own lips quirk up in a fond smile.

Ah! She finally placed what the new overwhelming feeling was.

Love.

[somar78]

The Rising Sun Workshop x Young Henrys Custom Postie Bike Chopper – The Hopper

The Postie Bike is an Australian institution, they’re a lightly modified version of the Honda CT110 specifically built for Australia Post – an Australian government institution famous for its ability to find new and creative ways to not deliver your mail.

This custom Postie Bike chopper was built as a collaborative effort between the Rising Sun Workshop and Young Henrys, two iconic Sydney establishments that are very high on the must see list for visitors to the harbour city who have a soft spot for motorcycles, or beer, or motorcycles and beer.

The Rising Sun Workshop

The Rising Sun Workshop is a motorcycle workshop and award winning restaurant, with elements of both a bar and a cafe thrown in for good measure. Anyone can go visit for coffee, tea, beer, lunch or dinner. Locals can sign up and become members, allowing them to bring their motorcycle in and work on it using one of four hydraulics lifts, with fully appointed tool kits and workshop equipment.

Perhaps most importantly there’s also a resident master motorcycle mechanic on site named Brad Coles, who provides advice, guidance, and assistance to people who have limited experience working on engines. Brad is known for having the skill and patience levels of a Shaolin monk and he’s a talented off-road rider to boot.

Young Henrys

We’ve featured the work of Young Henrys on Silodrome previously, they’re a rapidly growing craft brewery in Sydney located just down the road from the Rising Sun Workshop in Newtown, not far south of the CBD. The brewery has been going from strength to strength since it was founded in 2012 by Richard Adamson and Oscar McMahon.

The team are known for their frequent releases of limited edition batches, and for their welcoming bar that operates right out of the brewery inside an old warehouse. One of these limited edition batches was called Motorcycle Oil after its rich dark color, and another was “Foo Town” lager, a special beer created in collaboration with the Foo Fighters to celebrate their ninth studio album and their “Concrete and Gold” tour down under.

The Hopper – A Custom Postie Bike Chopper

The familiar purr of the Postie Bike is immediately familiar to all Australians, it usually means the junk mail has arrived. Thousands of retired Postie Bikes have now been sold into private hands and they’re proven popular as cheap daily transport.

This Postie is unlike any other, it’s the result of a months long project at Rising Sun Workshop involving dozens of workshop regulars and staff, all captained by resident wrench Brad.

The primary goal was to turn the Postie into an eye-catching and entirely unique custom motorcycle that could be displayed at music festivals, be put into liquor stores, bars, and pubs that stock Young Henrys beer, and most importantly, the bike had to function as a draught beer dispenser including a tap, hoses, and cooling. You just park the bike next to a keg, hook it up, and you’ve got ice cold draught beer on tap.

Fitting all that equipment onto a CT110 with its 87 kilogram (192 pound) kerb weight was always going to be a challenge, the choice to make the bike into an Easy Rider-inspired chopper made it more challenging still.

At this point I’m going to turn it over to Brad to explain the fabrication-intensive build in his own words:

We had a meeting at RSW, threw out some ideas on what we wanted it to look like, and took a lot of influences from the 70’s Easy Rider chopper scene. The bike had to have the ability to pour beer from it somehow. It had to be a rideable and registed bike, and had to be over the top.

From that meeting, I drew up a sketch of the bike, and then it was all built from that original sketch.

The fabrication work was quite involved, from the hand bent sissy bar, and forklift tires that would allow the fitment of a custom made mini pallet that allowed a “magic box” to be mounted. The magic box is a special esky (an Australian beer cooler) that allows the beer to be chilled down through the lines as it comes from the keg.

A springer front end was fitted to the bike, and lengthened 150mm. We fitted different wheels to the original hubs, and went with a 19” front, and 16” rear. With the front end and wheels changed, we now needed the frame stretched, so that also got 150mm length added into it. We made up special jigs to allow the frame and front end to be welded back together and remain straight and true. All of that work has been reinforced correctly to maintain structural integrity of the bike.

We hand-bent and welded up the very narrow handlebars, as well as fitted a 5 litre mini keg onto the backbone to supply the fuel to the bike, that runs through a hand bent copper line, that resembles a line on a still. It also conveniently holds a beer can, for display purposes only of course.

The seat pan was made from alloy, hand bent, shaped and welded up, then had it custom trimmed in 70’s metal flake vinyl. The gold and white colours of the seat are meant to resemble the colour of a beer, and beer head. Naturally we also had to get custom length cables made to fit.

We used the original lower frame support, but modified it to fit the new frame length with some custom detail pieces, like the spanner shape that connects the frame to the support. It now has forward control foot pegs, with a custom-made brake linkage fitted. Being a centrifugal clutch meant we could also make a hand shifter, that incorporates the old brewery tasting bar counter top beer tap handle.

The bike also has a custom exhaust with a 70’s style kick up at the back.

We had some alloy plates cut and machined for branding, as well as allowing the beer decal to be placed when being used at events. We also fitted a set of twin rectangle “Dixie” headlights that came out of Japan. Purpose Built Moto blinkers, and a mini speedo. Almost everything else is the original equipment like footpegs, controls etc, or been custom made for the bike.

The biggest challenge on this build was time. We had members help on the build, and that was always going to be the case, but like everyone, life gets in the way, so building a custom bike takes a back seat. We had many delays with the bike, like motorcycle accidents, deadlines shifting, running a workshop, overseas holidays and as the collaboration was always about building an amazing bike on a small budget, the labor or build hours would just be put in whenever possible. It did mean a bunch of 16 hour days, but the end result speaks for itself.

I don’t know how many hours went into the build, but it is safe to say between everyone involved, with everything around the build, including filming social media short videos etc we would have hundreds and hundreds of hours in it.

If you’d like to visit Rising Sun Workshop you can click here.

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All images: Chris Corboy – Corboy Photography

The post The Rising Sun Workshop x Young Henrys Custom Postie Bike Chopper – The Hopper appeared first on Silodrome.

source https://silodrome.com/custom-postie-bike-chopper/

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Durable, robust, and easy to use, Active Lifting brings you the best and most long-lasting soft shackle in Australia. This can be an excellent replacement for the metal screw shackle. While using this product, you don’t need to worry about corrode or rust.

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Tips to Buy Right Forklift Extension Slippers for Application

While forklifts have become a crucial part of a factory, to ensure the safe lifting and movement of goods, you need to buy the right Forklift extension slippers in Australia.

Introduction

Forklifts can perform different tasks, and to make it a versatile machine, you can add the best Forklift extension slippers in Australia. These extensions are a type of sleeve that is attached to the forks to increase the length. While increasing the versatility of forklifts, with these extensions, you can make your forklift handle multiple tasks. These extensions are designed for bulky and light loads. But they are available in different sizes and shapes. So, how to pick the right for your application? Don't worry at all, as we have listed down some tips for you. Let's talk about those tips in detail.

Choosing the Best Forklift Extension Slippers

Installing the right extension slippers can lower the overall handling time, fuel consumption, and manpower, and you can also lower the risk of product damage. When buying forklift extension slippers, you can consider the following factors.

Load of the Weight that You Need to Lift

Understanding the total weight, the extension slippers can lift is very crucial to make sure the attachment can easily handle the weight. There is no value in buying an attachment that can't handle the loads' weight. If you lift that is heavier than the attachment's capacity, it can be very dangerous. So, check this factor properly.

How High Do You Need to Lift Your Load?

It is also vital to understand how high your loads need to be lifted using the slippers. This will help you to ensure that your attachment can be raised to the required height without any risk. Keep in mind that overloading the forklift attachment that is lifted high can cause instability and may also lead to serious injuries.

Hydraulic Function Required to Use the Attachment

In general, standard forklifts have 2 to 3 hydraulic functions, and they may already be utilized to move the existing slippers. If you add extra slippers, then you may need an additional hydraulic function to move the extension safely. So, before buying one, make sure that the forklift has sufficient hydraulic capabilities.

Permanent or Temporary Attachments

Understanding whether the extension will be for temporary or permanent use. This will help you to decide whether to buy an attachment for long-term purposes. If you are buying a permanent extension slipper, then you should prefer to invest in a quality forklift extension slipper.

Re-Rate Your Forklift

Remember that after the installation of forklift extension slippers, you may need to re-rate your forklift with updated information. In some regions, this is even mandatory to re-rate the machine. With this, you can remain compliant with the workplace regulations.

Train The Operator

It is crucial for you to train operators after the installation of the new attachment to make sure that they can use the machine safely. Besides, it will also help you to avoid unwanted accidents while operating the machine.

Final Words

Choosing the wrong Forklift extension slipper can lead to accidents in the workplace. So, follow the tips listed here and pick the best Forklift extension slippers in Australia to avoid possible accidents. If you are searching for a trusted platform to buy Forklift Extension slippers at the best price, then visit Active Lifting now. They offer extension slippers made of quality materials and have a zinc finish to last for years. Visit their site to get your free quote and place your order.