Independent?...You're A Jackhole By Default

It's almost the 4th of July! (or already is for some of you.) Independence Day! I figured there were going to be a whole lotta folks sporting Red, White & Blue. This is all good and more power to those who shamelessly expose their patriotism today. Flash the world baby!



Hmmm...This gets me thinking. Whether you realize this or not, bikers are patriotic every day. Let me hip you to this best kept secret.

This country was born in rebellion. It was forged by those who did not want to go along with the current system. It was formed by those who wished to be free from those who would oppress them. They wanted to pursue freedom of religion. Freedom of speech. Freedom from tyranny. Freedom from taxation without representation. Freedom to do your own thing and pursue happiness. Freedom to expect fairness. They were the true rebels. They were the shit disturbers. They were the ones that the powers wanted squashed and silenced because it meant the end of their reign and corruption.

Hmmm...the biker. Why are bikers usually so damned patriotic? Because most of us, not all of us, understand that the only way to keep balance and freedom alive is to constantly keep an eye on what's going on and keep the threat of rebellion alive and well. We are not afraid to question authority to keep the peoples bestowed power honest. Oh yeah...this country needs a Jackhole. (Ok, ok...say asshole if you need to.)

I have come to the conclusion that the "true" biker will always and forever be viewed as an asshole. Why? Because anyone who defies the norm, the trend or the authority currently in place is considered to be an outcast, rebel or just a plain ole' jackhole. Maybe this would explain society's fascination with the whole outlaw mystique. Most people wish they could do something about whatever it is that is gettin' their panties up in a bunch...however they can't for one reason or another...or simply because they want to fit it. Bikers? heh, we don't give a crap about fitting in. (I'm a reformed conformist. We were all there until we woke up.)

"But V.D., I'm not an outlaw...I'm a good person!" you say.

Yes,...yes you are. But if you stand up against anything, even when it's just plain wrong or corrupt in the eyes of the masses, you are an outlaw or asshole to some other group of people. You are also a hero in the eyes of another. You don't have a choice about that and there is no avoiding it. A rebel is a patriot if he believes in the "Laws of Nature and Nature's God"...Yeah, it's right there in the "Declaration Of Independence". The founding fathers of this nation were considered outlaws. Only when they achieved the idea they fought for were they considered noble. Hmmm...

The founding fathers were not perfect...oh no. They liked to booze it up. George Washington had the largest whiskey distillery in the country during the 1800's. Old Ben Franklin loved women...more than most. Nope, they were no saints if you look at the factual history. Even though these guys were no dipshits, by todays standards, they would have been thrown out of office. "It was only a blow job...I swear!" But these guys have my respect because "THEY HAD THE BALLS TO PUT THEIR ASS ON THE LINE AND RISK IT ALL SO THAT I CAN SIT HERE AND SAY WHAT I'M SAYING RIGHT NOW."

Do you think the founding fathers broke any laws? You are damned right they did! Did everyone approve of their ideas? Hell no! It was the only way to secure freedom from persecution. The openly defied it and they stood directly in the path of conflict to make it happen.

Ride hard and ride free. Not all bikers have single cell grey matter. As a matter of fact, some of the most colorful, intelligent, passionate and interesting people I have ever met are the ones that the masses perceive as being the lowlife, motorcycle riding, daughter raping rebellious dirtbag. This simply isn't the truth. The fear of the biker is simply that...self inflicted fear. Sure there are some truly "bad guys" in that circle but don't you have them in all circles? (Enron?) I'm not going to stand amongst those who take advantage of others or who doesn't understand that respect and fear are completely two different things so don't get me wrong here. Bikers in general are more honest about who they are and what they stand for than any other group I know of.

Our government today doesn't control the country by oppression...they have managed to make us all so soft and comfy that we don't want to revolt because we want to maintain our current cushy lifestyle. Keep us chasing the dream and we won't have time to look into the keyhole. We don't want to give up "the good life" by speaking out. It's eroding our true freedom and making us into drones. Screw that.

Here is a tribute to my brothers and sisters. Thank you for standing out from the crowd. Thank you for being different. Thank you for stroking the pussy in the wrong direction at times. Thank you for speaking your mind even though it would be much easier and convenient to avoid conflict. Thank you for helping those who can't help themselves. Thank you for being generous. Thank you for donating to worthy causes. Thank you for kicking ass for those who have become victims. Even if I have never met you before, you will know which of you I am speaking of here. All you have to do it take a good look at yourself. What do you stand for? Are you who you appear to be. Yeah...it hurts sometimes doesn't it when you are honest with yourself.

Now don't go thinking that I am not for law and order but authority needs to be tested and questioned in order to keep it pure and uncorrupted. The so called "outlaws" are a different breed from the criminal. The outlaw retains respect and honor while the criminal is only out for himself and can only command respect from other criminals. There is a difference as far as I am concerned.

Who is the Patriot and who is the Outlaw? I guess it all depends on which idea you are going to support. Make sure the cause is for the good of everyone and not just for yourself. Someone is gonna spark the powder keg...who do you think is going to do it? Yup...an "outlaw" brothers and sisters. There is not other way it's going to get done. I'll stand with an outlaw who knows what is right before I'll stand with a king who is corrupt.......The key words to me are "The Laws of Nature and Nature's God".

Happy Independence Day all! "Live To Be Free, Be Free To Live"

The Pit Stop

As you read in the last post I think my son got bit by the road bug. Only time will tell. In some ways I relish the idea of riding with him later in life. On the other hand I fear this only because I am fully aware of the inherent risks and dangers out there.

He is gonna have to do what he thinks is best. I just have to put my two cents in and hope to get a return on that investment.

During the few days Trevor and I had together at my parents house we spent time goofing around. We also did do some traveling on four wheels. Forgive me! It's not what you think. Is this considered cheating on the double hubbed world?



I also was able to hang out with my brother MickyJ. He's a good man and a great father. You don't come across too many dudes like MickyJ anymore. I'm pretty proud of him and what he has done so far. I wish I could have spent just a bit more time with him but, being the responsible adult that he is, he had to work.

Squatch took us to Hill Air force Museum to check out some vintage aircraft. That was a great thrill. I was able to check out a couple of my all time favorite flying reapers. One at the top of the list was the A-10 Warthog....ooooooooohhhhhhh yeeeeeaaaaaahhh. If you are a Warplane buff and in Utah you need to check out this place. I forgot my camera so I don't have any shots. Squatch should have some lying around.

Squatch also held a BBQ at his place. (Thanks bro! It was awesome!) He also let me take his compound bow for a test run. Now, I'm all about firepower. I love the kick, the boom, the punch downrange and the smell of gunpowder and paraffin. I didn't think I would get all into the bow and arrow deal all that much but I can say I'm hooked. It's like a handgun or rifle on stealth mode. fffffftttttttttt...sproink! Love the sound it makes.

After a few beers we decided to hold our own competition. The first dude to hit a rubber ball, about the size of a softball, at 50 paces would be the victor. Well...how do I put this....hmmmm....let's just say it took awhile and the kid in the next yard decided it was much safer to go inside. Squatch came out the robin hood of the bunch and walked away with an extra 8 bucks in his pockets.

I had a good time with the family. It was needed.

As with all things it had to come to and end. Wednesday morning I loaded up the glide and prepared for the 950 miles sprint back to Salinas, CA. I had to make it in one day so that I could get ready for the Rumble On Route 66. I also figured I would have to get at least one good nights sleep if I was going to keep up with BigD, Ann and Arizona Harley Dude.

The road to my folks house is all dirt....which turns to mud when it gets wet. Not just mud mud, but a really snotty, slippery type of mud. I waived off the family and my nieces and nephews as I pulled out onto the mudslide. I was the bad-ass uncle who was ready to drift out onto the plains....until the front tire dropped into a rut that was buried under the mud. I can't even tell you exactly what happened. All I know is the two tires where ripped out from under me like a guy trying to pull a cloth off of a dinner table without disturbing the glasses and utensils. It happened so fast I don't remember anything except that I knew it was gonna hurt.

Somehow I managed to push myself off the bike and do the old tuck and roll bit. I thought I had it made but wasn't able to get my elbow underneath myself fast enough. The elbow found the only big rock on the driveway....pffftt, go figure. I finished the roll however and wound up on my feet. (Whoooooo! At least I kept my face clean!)

As I looked at my bike on it's side I realized that it had taken some damage. The crash bar (yes, crash bar...engine guards are for people who don't crash...I crash.) had sunk into the ground because it was so soft and my fairing and hard bags were scratched up. My elbow was chipped and I could feel a piece of bone loose in there.

My Father, son and I picked up Tramp. She was dirty and mud was packed in the cooling vents of her juggs. I was a little ticked but soon got over it. I was only ticked because I was fearing that something might have happened to the bike that would stop me from making it to Williams, AZ. I was covered in pasty, baby crap colored mud. All I could do was laugh. You have to admit it was funny. Once again I forgot to take a picture of the bike. Half the bike was buried in the mud. I'm still mad at myself for not thinking about the snap.

"Son, you better let me take you to the hospital to check out that elbow." my Dad said firmly to me.

I thought about it and decided that I was gonna be ok because I could still move it and that's all that mattered. They tried to talk me out of it but I needed to get on the road. I promised to call every few hours to let them know I was still alive. I have had it worse so I figured this was just a minor setback.

I started the bike and checked it over while scooping as much of the mud out of the controls as I could. It appeared to be ok except for the new aftermarket character add-ons that my parent's dirt road had so graciously provided free of charge.

Half covered in mud I waived again and was off. The rain I hit in Provo washed most of the crud off me. The engine dried up the rest and that signature Harley-Davidson vibration knocked loose whatever mud caked parasites that were left. My hog shakes itself off just like a wet dog does.

To shorten this post up I'll skip boring details. (Hey now! The stuff I just wrote wasn't boring so go suck and egg bro.) Here, I'll press the FF button for you all.

scrscrejfjfkdlsjksfdl...It was an awesome white line fever run. flbrtglbrtflbrt...I didn't see much I was riding too fast. bldjfhdljfjoejrieor...I made it home safe. bkfjdkff;dkjhkl;kfe;...Took a shower and put a bandaid on the Tramp's abrasions. flubbusubababababasskfdl;...I'm not going to fix the damage. It's all part of the history of the bike. sptsptsptfjdklahkfld...I did call Mom every few hours...just because it made her feel better. Sproinkledoinkledoo...Yes, I was too tired and sore for any kind of whoopee. (Can you believe that crap? Never thought I would see the day.)

Blackrock, AZ
Blackrock, AZ
This is the only building in Blackrock, AZ

Bob must be an intense dude. Check out his note under the Keep Out message.

Barstow, CA

Here is my fix for Tramp's battle wounds.

It was time to hook up with WillyD, Carol and B.B. for the Williams AZ Run. I was hurtin' but there was no way I was going to miss this meet up.

Run With The Son - Last Mile

The son and I woke up at 8am and I loaded up the bike. Drew's son whipped Trev and I up some waffles. (Thank you Drew and family for letting us shack up at the castle.)

We ripped through Vegas and screamed across the desert into Mesquite, NV. Trevor was getting the hang of the bike by now. He was learning that he was driving the hog just as much as I was. I started teaching him how to steer the bike from the back seat by shifting his weight.

As we rode through the Virgin Valley Gorge I let Trev negotiate the turns on his own. Yeah, I still had the reigns but let him guide the bike through the canyon. He mentioned that we had been through here many times but that it looked different than before. Something about the motorcycle making it all seem new again.

Trevor started to hint that he needed some grub...otherwise he was going to pass out and fall off the bike. I was pondering where to stop and realized that we were almost at the Zion Harley dealership.

"Hmmmm...it's Saturday...I wonder if..." I thought to myself as we pulled into the parking lot of the dealership.

As we dismounted and told my son, "Ok pal...membership has it's privileges. I'm going to introduce you to the $20,000 hot dog."

He got a good laugh out of it but he soon understood what I meant. We walked to the table out front and each of us scored a complimentary bag of chips, pepsi, hot dog AND a cheeseburger...not to mention a couple of donuts.

As we stuffed our faces I laughed and said, "Harley Davidson bike - $18,000, Fuel - $100, New tires - $350...being on the road with your son eating free hot dogs and burgers at the HD dealership?...priceless."

"Do they do this every Saturday? No wonder you bought a Harley!" Trev said with a mouthful of dog.

We had a good time basking in the generosity of the dealership and checked out some rides while we were at it. After about an hour we were back on the road towards Zion on 9.

By the time we made it to Zion it was raining pretty good. Trevor was wondering where the raingear was. I had to break it to him I didn't run with rain gear.

"Your skin is your raingear. After a few minutes you will just give into the fact you are wet. After that you don't care anymore. Just feel it and appreciate what we got going right now." I told him.

I have to admit. Most people would have been whining about finding some overhang to park it under, but Trev just accepted it for what it was and started holding his hands out to get as much of the experience as possible.

As we entered Zion the rain stopped and the sun came out. Within a 10 minutes we were dry once again. We rode through the red rocks on the red roadway. I would describe it but I guess a few pictures would keep this read down a bit.







In Zion there is a tunnel that is about 1 mile long that is drilled through the rockface. No lights except for the occasional hole. As we entered the tunnel I realized that I couldn't see jack. I quickly realized that my headlight was out.

After Zion we took 89 North. The temps started to drop down to the low 60's. I suggested that Trev put on some of my thermals and cold weather gear. He wanted to know where he was going to change. I pulled off the side of the road and said, "Right here."

Trev is a pretty modest lad...well, at least I thought so. He jumped off and started stripping off and putting on garb right there on the side of the road. He managed to score at least one honk of a horn from passing cagers. I was getting a good laugh out of it.



For the next hour we hooked up with a pack of bikes and roared through the countryside towards Bryce Canyon. Trev appeared to be enjoying the high speed, get the hell over, throttle romp with the pack.

Once we reached Bryce I managed to get a hold of a new headlamp at a gas station and we installed it in a few minutes. The attendant said, "Wow! I didn't know we carried Harley parts!" (Sometimes I wonder if the HD dealerships have the same revelations.)

It was 6pm. The sun was in the perfect position for the viewing of Bryce. I gave my son a choice. He had to decide this one on his own.

"Hey pal. It's getting late. Do you want to make Gramps house before it gets really cold? Or do you want to check out Bryce. I have never seen Bryce but it's ok if we don't make that. It's gonna be really cold if we do Bryce and I don't want to load too much suffering on you." I told him.

He sat and thought about it for awhile and then smiled and said, "Let's do this."

"Are you sure son. I don't think you realize how cold it's gonna get." I replied.

He once again said that he could handle that and we were off into Bryce.

I have never been to Bryce before. It was pretty amazing. I was at peace and being able to share this first with my son made it even more amazing. Once again, I'll just throw up a few picts to tell the story here.












After Bryce the sun was almost down. I told Trev that it was about to get miserable...he just laughed and said he could take it. Hell, I didn't even know if I was going to make it. I could smell the rain and the temps were dropping to the low 50's.

For the next few hours we rode through small town after small town just behind a storm. I could feel my son behind me starting to fade a bit and I could tell that he was getting just a little more than cold. I pulled over.

We stopped in some podunk town on Main street. The storm that had just passed through was still draining off down the gutters at a few inches deep. I gave Trev every bit of the cold weather gear I had. The kid was loaded with 8 layers of clothing and gear.

Just as he was almost finished getting his best imitation of a Walrus done, he knocked the helmet he was wearing into the rain gutter. Yup, it was now a fish bowl. I was going to let him wear my half helmet but the full face, wet or dry, would be better than my half helmet. I sopped as much of the water as I could out of the helmet and we were on our way again.

It rained off and on the rest of the run. The road was under construction 20% of the time and gravel, mud, sand and high winds were now what was on the menu. Trevor had all my cold weather gear on so I was starting to hurt a bit. The spuds was getting tired, cold and pretty much frozen like a fishstick. I was thinking about maybe aborting and finding a place to stay at this point. I was getting a bit worried about my pal.

I stopped a three hours away from our destination. I asked him if he was gonna make it. He didn't look to happy at this point. He just smiled at me and said, "Dad, this is what I wanted. I wanted to see if I could make this trip. You warned me it was going to be hard but I know I can do this."

We headed back out and it was pretty rough. I kept him occupied by having him keep watch for deer. About every mile or so we would see a deer carcass on the side of the road. This helped heighten our awareness.

Finally we made it to Gramps house at the top of the mountain. Another 600+ miles bit the dust and we arrived at our goal around 3am. Hot chocolate and a huge fireplace was waiting for us.

"Dad, I have never been so cold! That was just insane!" Trevor said as we sat by the fire trying to get the feeling back into our hands and feet.

"Well, maybe we pushed that one a little too hard. Maybe. It sort of makes you appreciate some of the things we take for granted now doesn't it? Sorry it was so rough the last few hours, but you know pal? I honestly don't know of too many guys who would have stuck that one out. As a matter of fact...I can't think of anyone who is stupid enough to try what we just did?" I said to my son in between the attempts to get my mug up to my lips without shaking it all over my lap.

Trevor smiled and said, "That was pretty cool Dad. The last few hours seemed to take forever but I would do it again, heh, well...maybe not for awhile...It's going to take awhile to warm up but it was the adventure. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be most of time...and much harder than I thought near the end. We did it!"

He gave me a high five to celebrate our victory as my Father sat on the couch shaking his head saying, "You boys just ain't gonna learn are you."