Road Grits Cafe

Re-Commit

2012-01-09T16:57:00.000-08:00

Well...it's a new year. I have kicked ass on many things over this past year. I have had my ass kicked as many times as well. Regardless, you simply must move ahead and forward.

How do you measure success? I have no answer for that. I have my own ideas of what success is, but for as many people that I could rustle up who would agree with me regarding success, I could find just as many who would state that I failed miserably on every victory perceived.

This is going to be a great year...for all of us. Things are turning around and things are going to get better. Just keep in mind that it's all going to go to shit, once again, and you can bank that. Make good, while you can, over the next few years. By my predictions, you probably have eight to ten years to make good on this...after that, we'll be in the shitter again.

Whatever you do, don't sit and wait for all of this to happen. You need to make it happen and the opportunities are coming fast, so be ready to take the shots when they present themselves.

So, RoadGritsCafe is committing to this renewal as well. I have deleted all of my previous posts for many reasons; One reason is that I have a new target in my reticle and I'm hell bent on nailing this one between the eyes.

Some of you are "WTF!" Some of you understand exactly, and all too well. The rest of you will figure it out soon enough.

Let's do this!

Mann Christmas E-Card

2011-12-21T15:52:00.001-08:00

If you know someone who is a Mann Fan, or a Pan-Head...or Block-Head for that matter, then you might wanna' send them a FREE Christmas E-Card for the Holidays.

Click the pict and head over to EasyRider Magazine and start spreading.......errrr....Christmas Cheer!

V-Day For The First Time

2011-11-14T09:08:00.001-08:00

November 11th, 2011 was a Friday. It was Veterans Day. Normally the day is a solemn day. I usually head out to the local Veterans Memorial to ponder and remember all those who paid the debt and did the time for this great nation...I didn't make it this year because I had other plans.

November 11th was a grey and blustery day. The wind was whipping inbetween the buildings downtown and there was a biting cold that stung the face. The rain was coming down intermittently and heavy at times. I feared that it would be the last, before it was even the first.

Thousands of people gathered. They lined the sidewalks all along the Main Street. They were waiting for something that was long overdue. They were waiting for a homecoming of sorts. They were waiting to thank someone they had never met before and to put a face on the names they had read at one point or another during their busy lives.

Someone knew that people wanted to celebrate those who gave it all. They knew that it just wasn't enough to remember. They knew that the pain needed to be mitigated with joy and celebration. The faces needed to be seen, and those who still remained needed to be recognized for the sacrifices made on the behalf of the masses.

The wind and the rain could not stop it. The nay-sayers could not stop it. The traffic could not stop it. I feared that people would not show because of the weather, but I was wrong...

I watched people cheering as the parade marched down main street. I saw Veterans smiling with pride as they waved to the crowd. They came on military vehicles, on motorcycles, on floats and on foot. It was a day to remember...as it always has been.

It has been long over due. The only thing that is shameful to me about this is that it was the "First Annual"...This should have been done a long time ago.

Thank you Veterans. Thanks go out to the people who helped put this event together, and thanks to the folks who showed up to support and give thanks.

Motorbike Braking For Dummies (continued x2)

2011-11-08T15:12:00.001-08:00

So how do you practice your braking techniques? Well, uhmmmm...it's not all that easy, especially if you are a nervous or an overly cautious rider. (One thing I have learned is that being over cautious is just as dangerous as not being cautious enough. Seriously, I've seen it, lived it and I have learned to throw over-cautiousness to the wind. Get over it...this is where the whole "trust your machine" philosophy comes into play.)

Why practice? There are lots o' good reasons.

One blaring reason is because it will make you a better iron horse jockey; not to mention that it could easily save your life. (...or the life of your bike, just in case you happen to be one of those folks who isn't into personal safety.)

Another reason is simply confidence. Lack of confidence is just as harmful as over confidence. Both will kill you. Knowing how your bike will react in emergency braking situations will give you the ability to get it right,...right when it counts the most. It will endow you with the awesome confidence to let your motorbike do what it has been bred to do without your sorry ass getting in the way. Release the full potential of your bike by knowing exactly what it can, and can't do. The only way to make it happen is experience, experimentation and practice.

Another valid reason is because you need to know exactly how you will react in a crisis. Example...have you ever watched a tactical team storm a building? These dudes have no problem kicking in a door, knowing full well that there is most likely an armed psycho waiting for them as soon as they enter that room. They can do it with just the right dose of caution and confidence to get the job done because of their extensive training and rehearsal. If they didn't constantly practice, then analyze, then correct, then practice again...all of them go home in a body bag.

You need to have this tactical mentality when it comes to your bike. You never know what is going to happen or what's coming around the bend while you pony express across the landscape. You need to be ready, and the only way to do that is rehearse, analyze, correct, and then rehearse again. Do this whenever you can grab a deserted road or parking lot. Practice the braking religion often and I PROPHESIES that when some dumbass cager, or critter, tries to cut your glory run short, that you will be able to deal with it calmly...hell, you might even avoid the whole encounter completely unscathed.
When that horrific moment calls upon you, time will slow down, and you will do exactly what you rehearsed, without even realizing that you are doing it. Once the danger has passed...you will know that all the annoying brake play time was worth it's weight in HD accessories. If you rehearsed nothing, then all I can promise is that you will simply reap what you rehearsed...which is nothing. Nothing can take everything from you, when you ignore it long enough.

How to practice?

That's the easy gig here. Just try to stop your bike as quickly as you can without locking up the wheels or dumping your bike. Ok, ok...I'm pretty certain that wasn't what you were looking for, so I'll offer up some things I have done in the name of brake lever grab-ass.

(Practice-"Slow Drag") Yup, and you thought slow drag was only a lame ass ritual biker competition; Nope. If you are not down with the details of what a "slow drag" is, then I'll fill you in on that now. A "slow drag" basically is where two or more bikes drag race. Instead of racing to the finish line for first place, the riders try to be last across the finish line. This is a race where the tortoise always wins. The rules; You can't put your feet down. If a boot heel touches the asphalt, then you are disqualified. You must stay in your lane. This lane is usually two chalk lines that are only eighteen inches apart and at least 50 feet long. If a tire goes outside of this lane, then you are disqualified. Some riders will balance their bike at almost a complete stop. If you are really good at this, you realize that brakes play a huge roll in balancing your bike, along with clutch, steering and throttle work. The longer you can keep your bike upright at a dead stop, the better you will be at this competition.

How does this help you brake better?...One word; Balance. Your goal is to work towards being able to balance your bike, at a stand still, for at least 1.5 seconds or longer. How does balance help you in braking situations? A butt-load...allow me to clarify. Pretty much every hombre knows about the gyroscopic forces that are generated as a result of your wheels rolling along on the bike. The "slow drag" practice teaches you to balance your bike, without the helping hand of those gyroscopic forces, because your wheels are not spinning. Now think about it...if you lock up your brakes...then your wheels are not spinning, right?...which mean no gyroscopic forces...which means you are balancing the bike by your lonesome; it's all you baby. In most situations where you lock up your wheels, you only have about 1.5 seconds to correct. This "slow drag" will help you achieve this.

Let's say you have locked up your brakes. You now have 1.5 seconds to correct; If it's a front wheel lockup, then you have 1.5 secs to release before you are flat on your ass. If it's a rear brake lockup you have 1.5 seconds to get the rear tire back to trailing the front wheel, then release, or, leave the rear locked and tail slide to a stop. (ALERT! ALERT! Never release a locked rear wheel unless it is directly trailing the front wheel! Good balance will help you get that static rear wheel back behind the front. If you release the rear brake, in a rear tail slide before it is properly trailing the front wheel, then you will be telling all your bros about your recent tank slappin' experience...well, if you are still alive to tell the tale that is. If a locked rear wheel gets too far out, then it's a far better option to just stay in the slide with the locked rear wheel, as you steer into the same direction of the slide, until you come to a stop...or hit something.)

I once again put this to the test just before I wrote this deal. It's been raining here so I hit the wet roads. I managed to get the front wheel to lock up at 25 mph. (I don't recommend you try this until you can hit the 1.5 second balance trick down consistently.) I could balance the bike with the front wheel locked for almost a full second and a half...and only because I can balance my bike fairly well. The ability to instinctively balance the bike kicked in and I rode the front skid for a good distance. Right about the time I felt that the wheel was going to slide out from under my ass, I simply released the brake lever and all was golden again. (My poor tires...pfffttt, but it was a for a good cause.) Then I locked the rear at the same speed. The rear is much easier than the front to handle. It was fairly easy to keep the rear trailing behind the front wheel, simply by balancing the bike, and SLIGHTLY steering into the direction at which the rear end was trying to slide out. Once the rear wheel was trailing directly behind the front, I just release the rear brake...and all was good again.

See how this can help you out on your braking, as well as your balance? Kick ass!

(Ok, I lied...I need to continue this....so that means I'll be turning this into a foursome....or a pentasome series....whatever that is. I could blah blah blah all day long if you let me...but, you are all busy folks so I'll let you off for now. Have a good one.)

Motorbike Braking For Dummies (continued)

2011-10-31T14:35:00.001-07:00

So, last time I spouted off about that front brake being the mother of all brakes on a bike. I got a couple of "less that flattering" emails about it. All I got to say about that is "good for you!" (I prefer that nasty comments be posted on the blog though. There is no need for you not to be heard. I leave every comment as long as it's targeted to the topic.)

Anyhow, back to brakes. After I finished scripting out my first brake post, I hit the road and screwed around on the glide. I figured that if I was going to cram my experience with motorbike braking down your throats, then I should go out and practice this myself. It was about time to refresh my memory in regards to the handling of my FLHX Street Glide under heavy braking anyway.

As I was throwing my bike around, I was thinking about how other things affect braking.

Tires:

The first thing that came to mind was tires. Tires make a huge difference in your ability to stop. Softer tires offer better traction under all conditions but wear pretty damned fast. Harder tires offer better wear and higher mileage, but lack the real meat when it comes to cornering and stopping power.

I have tried all sorts of tires but I'll use a couple as an example for bloggin' purposes. The Metzler Marathons were great wearing tires for touring. I managed to get 16k out of the rear and almost 35k on the front, however, I did not like the traction or stopping ability of the tires at all. I drag floor boards and mufflers all the time because I like to lean in the corners. The Metzlers actually scared the shit out of me because they would cut loose often, where as the Dunlops rarely cut loose. The Dunlops wouldn't loose traction during hard braking, but the Metzlers would constantly skip and skid when faced with harder stops.

Asphalt:

The counter part to tires would naturally be road surface. Riding on silky smooth asphalt feels as sweet as caressing a centerfold's bare ass, but it's hard to stop...hard...once you get going and negotiating those curves are a little bit more dangerous also. A course road surface that's even is the best, overall, when it comes to grip and braking power. Roads that have have been traveled by eighteen wheelers constantly are the worst because of the unpredictable surface characteristics. All those compressed asphalt divots are murder under hard braking conditions and allow the tires to bounce off the surface...not to mention the "wagon ruts" that want to throw the bike sideways during braking. The road definitely has a say in whether you stop on a dime, or slide and whine.

Intersection stops are highly dangerous because those folks who don't maintain their vehicles dump all sorts of slippery fluids onto the roadways as they are stopped on the wait for the green light. Stay in the left or right side of your lane while stopping as you approach a light. The center is usually the greasy streak that will soil your shorts.

Environment:

Hot temps, cold temps, sun and shade affect your ability to stop. On hot days I can really crank down on the brake lever, but on cold days I have to be more cautious. The heat makes your tires softer as well as the road surface, thus giving you better stick and grip. Cold temps make the surface of the road, and your tires, harder and less sticky.

Heavily wooded roads provide stellar scenery and lots of pine scented nose candy, however, there will be spots of shade and sun all along the way. Some spots of the roadway in this case will almost never see sun because of the trees. Those shaded spots are just one of the many assassins that are on the payroll of the reaper. Moisture will not evaporate as fast in these shaded areas and will ambush you on a day that is warm and sunny. (No to mention pine needles, which are about as helpful as a patch of ice. Coming off a bike in heavily wooded areas is not a good thing...coming off your ride in the desert has much higher odds of survival than face planting into a tree trunk...not to mention that the forest has many more moving targets that dart in front of you. Yet, these are the roads that everyone wants to Moto GP on...go figure.)

The Pacific Coast beach roads are the best riding around, but sand blown on-shore creates quite challenge in corners and during braking...the worst part is that sand is the hardest thing for me to pick out on the road. The stronger the ocean breeze the slower I go along the way because it doesn't take much to blow beach sand up onto the roadway. Failure to take caution will result in just more than sand in the crack of your ass.

All of you understand what "Slippery When Wet" means. Wet roads should require you to double your estimated stopping distance. "Double the distance and half the pressure on the brakes" is a rule of thumb that works well for me in the rain. Here is one of those circumstances where I will lay off the front brake more and increase the use of the rear. A slide with the rear is controllable here...but a front wheel slide?...not good, but still can be controlled if you are quick about it. You must ride like you are sure something bad is about to happen here...plus it makes things more exciting when you are on an uneasy edge. (Like riding a hog isn't exciting enough, right?)

Snow? pffftttt....there are no standards for this weather type. A clear, dry day with dry roads means nothing in snow country. Try not to travel in this crap if you can help it. I have dumped bikes while stopping, starting, turning, leaning....pretty much all of it. There is just no way to predict snow country. A road that looks perfect and dry can turn out to be a horror flick of the black ice variety...you will be on your ass before you even know what the hell has happened. Here is another instance where the front brake basically gets fingered only...and very gently. Here, I reverse the braking power model and favor the rear.

Mechanical:

Brakes don't do a damned bit of good if you are not taking care of them. You absolutely must inspect your entire brake system often. I have run across things on my 08 Street Glide that would have resulted in brake failure. For example; While I was detailing Tramp I came across a portion of my clutch cable that was wearing away the outer wall of my rear brake tubing. The constant pressure from using the clutch cable and the constant vibration was enough that, if I had not caught it, it would have resulted in a hole in the brake line. No brake fluid, no brakes...it's that simple.

Don't assume that the designer, and engineer, of your bike got it right. Every vehicle will have some problem with it because it was envisioned, engineered and built by dudes and dudettes...and I have never met one person who is perfect or error free...ever. Your bike is going to have problems that might have been missed by the bike building gods. You owe it to yourself to do these checks yourself and learn about your bike. Fighter pilots do a walk around check before every take off...you should too.

Distance, Speed, Weight and Wheelbase:

The heavier your bike, the better grip you have on the road when stopping. I have also found that heavier bikes yields higher mileage from the tires...the downside is you need more distance to stop that bike. Keep distance, the weight of your ride and speed in mind. I don't need to say this but I will...the faster you go the more momentum you have so the greater distance you will need to come to a safe stop.

Here is the really interesting thing I have discovered. The greater the wheelbase, (the distance from the front axel to the rear axel), the less effective the front brake becomes, and the more stopping ability is transferred to the rear brake. So if you are running longer rakes, like a chopper, then your rear brake has more stopping power than a bike with less rake. Part of this is because the more rake a bike has, the less of the bikes weight is shifting to the front tire. (I think this is why most old school chopper riders argue the fact that the rear is better than the front. They are partially right, but the front still has more stopping power regarless. A chopper requires more rear brake than, let's say, a sport bike with less rake.)

Mental State and Stress:

So you don't think that stress and your mental state have anything to braking? pffftttt.....forget everything else I have just told you about braking then and park your ride. You are the most important component of your braking system. If you are tired, stressed, shivering or sweating with swass or swoobs, (sweaty ass or sweaty boobs) then you are going to make that flashing error in judgement that may end it all in a flash. Without you, nothing will work right so make sure you are on top of your game at all times by stopping when you are tired or physically overtaxed....trust me, I have had to severely curb my desire to do distance just for this one reason alone. My head has accepted the fact that my 1k+ days are for special occasions only.

Constantly think about the road surface, your speed and the weather conditions as you run free. Mentally rehearse what you are going to do if you need to make a hard, or emergency, stop at every mile marker...seriously. The road changes and the conditions change with every minute. I do it so often that it has become second nature. It has become automatic and subconscious now. That is exactly what you want.

whew...time to brake here...

As you can see, braking on a motorbike goes way beyond just the act of stomping on brake pedals and brake levers. You might have picked up on my efforts to get you to think beyond just braking techniques...but you can't argue that all of the above are vital to proper braking on the sled. If you do the same thing with the brakes every time you stop, under all the different circumstances you will encounter, without thinking about all of the other things that affect your braking then I'm already getting started on carving out your headstone on a slab of granite. (You're welcome.)

On the final bit of this threesome series on braking, I'll go over some real crap that has happened to me during braking. Maybe we will both get something out of it. It's always good to remember what you did wrong so that you don't do it again...there is only one thing better than that though....telling someone else about your mistakes so they don't have to go through same horrible shit....hopefully.

Motorbike Braking For Dummies

2011-10-24T16:14:00.001-07:00

So I'm running up on 60k + on the 08 Street Glide...which most of you know as "Tramp". New brake pads are calling my name here. Oddly enough, I have gone through 4 sets of pads on the rear but only two sets on the front. Help me figure this one out.

So you say you can explain this? Yeah yeah...You are about to tell me it's because I ride the rear brake and less favor the front brakes...right?

Nope. I pound on the front brakes way more aggressively than I do the rear. After all, a good majority of your stopping power lies in those front brakes. I have been told that the actual percentage is somewhere between 75 and 90 percent. I believe every bike is different depending on all sorts of variables. Some bikes brake different than others depending on suspension, tires and weight. Every bike I have owned is a different gal who requires a different touch. Do I know everything? Oh hell no...but I do know what I know. That's all I can offer up here.

I have endured the listen-in on heated debates regarding the proper way to stop a two wheeled doomsday machine. Most of what I hear is complete bullshit. I decided to put my two cents in and offer my experience to those of you who might be newer to the world of motorbikes.

Before I go off and start offering my experience with motorbike braking, I have to tell you that I have never taken any of the safety courses offered. I do have all written material provided for the courses and have studied them, but all I can do is offer what I have learned from old school coots, motorcycle racers and 30 + years of riding. Do anything long enough and you become a valuable resource for info. I don't give a shit about how much you have read, or what classes you have attended or how many videos you have absorbed through your peeps...if you don't actually hit the road and rehearse all that valuable information...then, you are about as well prepped as a dude in a martial arts competition, who's only training has been scavenged from late night viewings of old school kung-fu movies. He is going home looking like a bruised banana that's a couple of weeks old...no doubt.

The MSF course only introduces you to the concept of operating a motorbike. Some folks think they are experts after graduating from these courses. The truth is you get just enough to hopefully keep you alive until you have mastered the real skills that will make you an expert rider. (No! I'm not discouraging anyone from attending the safety courses available out there and don't even let the thought enter your melon that I think these courses are complete crap. Everyone should take the courses. I intend on taking the safety courses one day myself. I'm just being realistic here...the truth is simply the truth whether you like that or not.)

Alright...let's get into motorbike braking. Here is what essentially happens when you pull back on the chrome reigns of your iron horse.

The overall weight of the bike, tire condition and composition, environment, roadsurface and suspension all play a part in stopping your bike. As you apply the brakes, the weight of the bike transfers to the front wheel and front suspension. The front tire now has more ability to stop than the rear simply because there is more friction between the road surface and the front tire. This would also mean that there is less stopping power in the rear because of this weight transfer.

If you don't believe me then simply do this right now. Take the palm of your hand and gently rest it on the table top. Now slide your hand across the table. Easy. Now do that same thing except push down on the table with your palm as you try to slide it across the surface. How did that work out for yah?

All this crap about "it's safer to use the rear brake" is simply a load of shit folks...in MOST situations. (There are exceptions. I'll get to that later.) You just proved it to yourself, so here it is in a nutshell. While braking, your front wheel is the heavy palm and the rear wheel is the gentle palm. There is no way to argue this fact. Using the rear brake, or the front brake, results in less weight in the rear of the bike, so there is less friction to work with on that rear tire. So let's get this straight and never talk about it again since we now know better: The front brake has superior stopping power when compared to the rear brake. It's just a fact.

How do you think these crazy-ass riders pull of those front wheelies? It's that weight transfer we were just talking about. And you say you are afraid to lock-up the front wheel? Don't be afraid...it's actually more difficult than it looks to lock up your front wheel on a good asphalt that's dry. Yes...you can agrue that it's easier to lockup the wheels of a lighter bike than a heavier bike, but regardless, the front brake is always the winner under normal riding conditions no matter how light, or heavy, the motorbike is.

Under standard fair weather conditions, here is what I do when I want to stop my glide; I apply the rear brake first to load up the front suspension. In less than a second, I start to pull on the front brake lever and gradually increase pressure as I slow, at the same time releasing the rear. As I start to roll to a stop, I gradually decrease the pressure of the front brake lever. Just about the time I come to a complete stop, I apply the rear again and release the front brake while I check my rear view mirrors. As you just read here, I only use the rear brake breifly at the beginning and the end of the stop...the rest is a fist-full of front brake lever baby. (Keep in mind I'm downshifting this entire time. By the time I stop, I'm already in first gear and ready to punch out at the first sign of carnage. I also don't want my front brakes applied at the very tail end of the stop in case there is a oil patch lurking around. I like to have my throttle available and at least one car length between my bike the cage in front of me. This diligence has save me a few times. I had to dart out of my lane, at a stop years ago, only to then watch the cage that was coming up behind me smash into the cage that was in front of me just a couple of moments before. )

Well...does this whole using the front brake work in all situations? Oh hell no...I'll get to that next time, but it does work in ALMOST all situations. I know my braking method does work because I can out-stop any rider I know. (Do both of us a favor and challenge me on this one sometime. No matter who comes out on top, good will come from it...you will either humble me or realize that I just might not be as full of crap as you thought I was. If you go out to practice just so you can put me to shame, then I have done my job as well...right?)

Hello Strangers

2011-10-18T15:33:00.001-07:00

Wow...alot of shit has hit the rotors lately. It's all good but I had to focus my head on the tasks that ran up on me. Maybe I'll release the info but I'm not sure if that is going to happen. Two reasons: 1) I don't like sympathy from folks...unless someone has the barrel of a .40 cal jammed into my forehead...In that case, please feel sorry for me and put the hand cannon down already. 2) Nothing that I'm experiencing right now is anything that countless folks have not already gone through at one point or another, so, I can't complain. I still have my bike, family and kick ass ass, so it's all good.

That being said, I would like to thank all of you. Thanks for hanging around. In particular, I would like to thank Gary F, WillyD, K.T. and my lovely vixen wifey. None of these folks know exactly as to why I'm thanking them, except for maybe B.B., but each one showed up for a visit at a critical time without knowing it. It kept things in perspective for me.

I have taken care of the things that are most important to me...unfortunately, keeping RoadGrits updated was over-shadowed by those "other" things.

I'm back now with a spirit that has been overhauled. I have found out some things about myself that I don't like, as well as some things that make me a better man than the rest of the flock. Many trips on the bike between Sacramento and San Diego were manditory, offering some new stories to tell.

Glad to be back.

Houston...We Are A Go

2011-09-12T12:24:00.001-07:00

Testing....123.....Testing...123....Countdown commencing. LiftOff in T-minus....what the hell?!?...Do you see that!

Heh....just testing something. No need for alarm people. Gotta figure something out before I continue.

Biker Sermon: Selfishness

2011-08-19T23:00:00.001-07:00

Something happened to me. I'm almost certain it has happened to some of you also. Let me start...I had a friend. His name,... "Stew", short for Stewart. Stew was one of those guys who really cared about people. He was always positive and helping someone out. If you needed something, Stew was the dude to call. Everyone knew this. Some people even took advantage of this trait.

Stew was the kind of guy who always appeared to be pretty upbeat and happy for the most part, but for some reason, I sensed a dark spot in his personality. Nobody else could see it but I could. For a long time I tried to tell him that he needed to take some time for himself and do some things that he wanted to do rather than do what everyone else needed him to do.

His answer was this; "That's just plain selfish Dave. You should spend more time helping other people...besides, if I do anything for myself I feel guilty...or worse, someone else will accuse me of thinking only about myself. Helping others makes me happy."

I can see how this can happen...the whole feeling guilty because you can't help someone out for one reason or another. I have experienced this myself. You do something you would like to do and some ass-fucking-hole comes along and tells you that you are being a selfish bastard for doing something for yourself.

Selfishness is something I can't friggin' stand, but what I can't stand even more so are people who get all bent and accuse someone of being selfish simply because a person goes off and to do something for themselves, rather than do the bidding of a person who perceives themselves as needing help.

It's selfish not to think about other folks...period. On the flip side, it's extremely selfish to give someone the guilt trip for not helping you out. Just like everything else on this rock, you need to keep the balance in all things...including selfishness.

You need to go out and do things for yourself. You need to be selfish at times and you shouldn't give a rats ass about if other people will see it as a selfish act. Get the hell over it! Sure you need to take the time to help others, and honestly, I have seen no other group of people help more folks than the bikers that I know, but, the thing that gives the biker the appearance that they are care a free group, for the most part, is due to the fact that they do cut loose and have a good time without fear of being rebuked. They defy the demands that are made upon them when they need to be defied. They know how to stand up for what they know to be just and right at all costs. I think that is where the whole "outlaw" crap comes from. Sometimes we just will not go along with the program. It's a beautiful thing.

So go out and be selfish once in awhile. Tell some folks, "No, I'm sorry bro...I can't help you because I have plans." Go out and do something you really want to do.

How do I know what I'm saying is absolute truth? Well, my friend Stew just took himself out of this world. For some reason he couldn't say "No". For some reason he started to feel like a door mat. No matter how much he helped others. No matter what he did for others...it just wasn't enough and it started to mess with his melon. He got tired of it all and could find no peace anymore...simply because he wasn't selfish enough.

I implore you to be selfless, but also be equally selfish. Stew finally learned that and made up for it in one final act. The sad fact is I hear people now talking about how he was selfish by taking himself away from the rest of us. (Another selfish statement if you ask me. Makes me wanna' slap the crap outta' them.)

You can control this simply by keeping the balance once again. Just keep the balance Brothers and Sisters. Help yourself as often as you help others. You are definitely worth it and SCREW anyone else who gives you shit for it. As long as you take as much as you give then you are well grounded.

Selfishness isn't always such a bad thing. Stew's last act, and probably his only act of "selfishness" has taught me alot on the subject. "Peace my brother. You were a good man and cared about everyone you met. It's too bad that all those selfish bastards took everything from you. I promise that I won't let them do it to me. Thanks for everything."

Amen

Coffee & Indians

2011-08-17T16:12:00.001-07:00

I ran across this dumbass joke today and for some reason it made me laugh out loud....dunno why because most jokes are not all that funny to me. Maybe it's because I'm into coffee or something along those lines, or maybe it's because I can't fathom the absolute stupid crap that is going on in the hallowed halls of the Government...but anyhow...just thought I would throw this one out there;

Indian Wanting Coffee:

An Indian walks into a cafe with a shotgun
In one hand pulling a male buffalo with the other.
He says to the waiter:

"Want coffee."

The waiter says, "Sure, Chief. Coming right up."

He gets the Indian a tall mug of coffee.....
The Indian drinks the coffee down in one gulp,
Turns and blasts the buffalo with the shotgun,
Causing parts of the animal to splatter everywhere and then just walks out.

The next morning the Indian returns.
He has his shotgun in one hand, pulling
Another male buffalo with the other.
He walks up to the counter and says to
The waiter:

"Want coffee."

The waiter says, "Whoa, Tonto!
We're still cleaning up your mess from yesterday.
What was all that about, anyway?"

The Indian smiles and proudly says,

"Training for position in United States Congress:
Come in, drink coffee, shoot the bull,
Leave mess for others to clean up,
Disappear for rest of day."

Disclaimer: This was not intended to slant or steriotype any Native Americans. "As a matter of fact, some of my best friends are Native Americans...and African Americans....and Asian Americans...and..." (If hear another Caucasian American person say this crap one more time I'm going to crank a brake-stand on their nads.)....seriously...if this has offended you in some manner then...get the hell over it already and grow a pair. If you are a member of Congress and are offended...well, then go ahead and be offended...as well as embarrassed while you are at it.

WTF!!

2011-08-02T14:25:00.001-07:00

Taking a short break. Thank you to all of you who come here to read my crap. I have some stuff to do and take care of. I love writing on this deal and every one of you who takes the time to visit are truly good folks. I just need a week or so...and then I can start spouting more mindless crap. I love ya'll...seriously.

Whether you realize it or not, each of you has really helped me get through some very tough times. There are alot of really great people out there and every one has something bitchin' to offer. Thanks for helping me fill my pirate booty bag.

See you soon.

Taken Out

2011-07-18T13:39:00.001-07:00

I have been taken out by a virus...no, not a computer virus but the real frickin' deal. I have been as flat on my back as Flat Wooley. I even hallucinated that B.B. tied me up with an extension cord and was shoving fruit up my ass. (Not even joking.) Was it a hallucination?....one can only hope. Be back in action soon.

The Reception-Congrats!

2011-07-11T14:56:00.001-07:00

Our story begins in August 2009. Williams, Arizona. I wrote about this trip and it was a great time. I had never met AZHD, Harley Nana, Caveman or Boston as of yet. It was the beginning of whole lotta' great shit.

But sometimes you just know something good when you see. I remember meeting AZHD and Harley Nana for the first time. If I remember correctly, (which is a stretch for me) I don't think AZHD or Harley Nana really knew each other that long.

Long story short; I remember watching AZHD and Harley Nana at a club dancing and just hanging out. Anyone could tell that they really were into each other. It was an awesome thing to watch. B.B. and I looked at each other and grinned. I remember B.B. looking over at me and saying something like, "They make a great couple. I can see this getting serious."

Well...let's take a look at just how serious this turned out to be...

I recognize this look....seen it before a few years ago.

A family affair. The newly weds cuttin' up the rug with the G-Kids.

Well.....Hello ladies! My name is V.D. and I'm a Taurus...I can see you are all
taken back by my good looks and brilliant personality!

There are always really hot chicks at wedding receptions.

Only two dudes in this picture were drinking. Can you tell me which two were not?

AZHD likes to dance gang-banger style. Watch where you are pointing that thang!

Does this say it all or what! Makes me feel good. Congrats!!

Just wanted to thank AZHD and Harley Nana for inviting us to this very special occasion. I would also like to thank the both of them for setting us up while we were there. It's good to see such great folks find each other. To many miles of travel together and I wish the both of you every bit of success and love that this world has to offer. Congrats on the union! (Thanks for the use of the Hawaiian shirt. B.B. is still commenting on how nice I looked.)

The two are now one, but the one is still counted as two. Both support one goal. One can not achieve what the two of them can by working together. Keep kicking butt you crazy ass biker kids. It's a long road ahead but I get the feeling that you are going to cruise through it without too many hang-ups.

It was truly an honor to be a part of his deal. Thank you for the gift.

ATF - Assualt On The Primary Compound

2011-07-07T14:28:00.001-07:00

Dear Tramp;

   I love you my 08' FLHX Street Glide. You are the greatest motorbike I have ever owned. You might not be the fastest, or the sexiest, but you are the most well rounded machine I have ever saddled up with. We have burned up 50,000 miles together thus far. Sure we have had out ups and downs, but for the most part you are a real mechanical soul mate.

Lately though....I feel you have been getting a little bit bitchy with me. I know I'm hard on you and all that, but this mega clunk when I shift you into first on cold days is really starting to worry me. You used to be ready for anything on any day in any weather...you must be getting older now. You just bitch about our rides together until you realize that I am the friggin' master here and you are my evil minion and have no choice in the matter. What can we do about this? Help me understand what is going on here. Is it something I have done to you? Is it time for use to split up so I can get a younger bike to shack up with? Ahhhhh.....forget I ever said that. You and I are one and always will be. I'm just trying to understand why you have changed on me after all we have been through.

Your Loving Road Whore,
Dave (V.D.)

So...That clunking noise you hear when your Harley gets shifted into first is really a bitch and I hear alot of people concerned about this noise. It's referred to as the "Cold Clunk into First". Most of it in a misunderstanding about how the guts in your primary actually work. With the help of WillyD and many exploratory surgeries, I have been given intimate knowledge of the primary and it workings.

This clunk when shifting into first is pretty much normal on Harleys.  It's just the way it is people.

We have been exploring some remedies to minimize the "Cold Clunk". The first two things you need to check is the clutch lever adjustment, then the clutch pack adjustment. Usually, this will help calm down that clunk. Then check the tension on the primary chain itself. Most of the newer bikes have an automatic primary chain tensioner...in that case you don't have to worry about tension of the primary chain.

The next thing to check would be the inner primary bearing. I have gone through two of these deals. Once because it was just a bad bearing, the other time it was the HD mechanics fault for covering the oil feeder hole for the bearing.   The clunk was really bad just before I realized that this bearing was failing. Once the bearing was replaced the "clunk" was about normal....if a clunk can be considered normal.

Now this leads me to the most common cause of "Hairy Clunkage." Primary fluids. I have tried all sorts of oils in the primary. I have put HD-Syn3, AmsOil synthetic, Standard HD Primary Oil, Standard 50 Oil and ATF. (Automatic Transmission Fluid.)

HD-Syn3 - It made the primary noise noticeably louder. It helped with the "cold clunk" a bit, but not much. Good friction zone action from the clutch lever.

AmsOil 20-50 - Smooth shifting. More noise heard from the primary. Really squashed the "cold clunk" for the most part. Great friction zone action from the clutch lever.

Standard Primary Oil & 50w Oil - Really hairy "cold clunk". Quieter primary noise. Harder shifting. Great friction zone action from the clutch lever

ATF - Freakin' awesome shifting. Really killed the "cold clunk" for the most part. Alot of noise coming from the primary. Really shitty friction zone action from the clutch lever.

So I have two contenders as far as I'm concerned. ATF and AmsOil 20-50.

ATF- Wow! Really smooth shifting. The primary noise really isn't something to be concerned about because the ATF is thin. It doesn't muffle normal primary noise. The thicker fluids seem to quiet normal primary noise. The "cold clunk" was pretty much minimized to almost nothing. ATF was designed to handle high heat and constant friction. I have been reading alot on the whole ATF in the primary debate. No one really has had anything bad to say about using ATF in the primary. The benefits seem to out weigh the negatives...with one exception in my opinion. Some gear heads seem to think that ATF will cause the seals in the primary to fail sooner. I can't see that but honestly, I don't know. One aspect of ATF that I have never seen anyone else comment on would be the "friction zone" action.

The "friction zone" is the zone between the fully disengaged cluth and a fully engaged clutch. I'm pretty sure all of you understand the "friction zone" concept if you have ever taken a riders safety course...or have ever used first gear from a stop sign. (heh) This is where I have a problem with the ATF. No clunk and smooth shifting is a f'in great thing no doubt!....but all this is pretty much taken care of once the bike primary warms up with any oil or fluid. The loss of the "friction zone" is what really concerns me. The friction zone with ATF when it's cold feels like all the other fluids, but when it heats up there is relatively no friction zone anymore. When slowly releasing the clutch with hot ATF, you will feel it start to grab, but then the clutch grabs on like a toad zapping a fly with it's tongue. There is little very low speed control while feathering the clutch. As a matter of fact, I would almost hinge on saying this is dangerous from a operational viewpoint.

So...I have one winner in my opinion. AmsOil 20-50. It helps with shifting, the "cold clunk", and retains the "friction zone" on the clutch pack. I am now running AmsOil in all compartments. The engine oil, tranny and the primary. If it were not for the loss of the ability to expertly feather the clutch, I would definitely go with the ATF.

"So what else can I do to help solve the 'cold clunk' problem?" you ask.

You can see the clutch plates (discs...pfftttt...whatever) in this picture.

Here is something else I have discovered; Your clutch pack is made up of many thin discs that are pressed together by a spring mechanism. When you pull in the clutch lever, you are disengaging the spring on the clutch pack, and therefore allowing all those discs to separate from each other...thus allowing them to slide. The thicker oils won't allow those discs to separate quickly enough to fully disengage. That is why you have the wicked clunk.

Now when I crank over the bike on the cold start I make sure the bike is in neutral. I let it warm up for about a minute or two while I engage and release the clutch lever several times. After a couple of minutes of warm up, I pull in the clutch lever and hold it for about 30 seconds to a minute. This allows the clutch plates to fully separate from each other and lets the lubricant disperse throughout. 90 percent of the time, when I do this, there is almost no clunk at all when I kick into first gear. I'm sure I'm helping out the compensator and the crank shaft when I do this as well.

Need to keep learning all this stuff so when I hit the overhaul mark that I can do this stuff on my own. Otherwise I'll be without a bike.

Arizona...Another Epic Trail III

2011-06-20T16:19:00.001-07:00

Sunday May 29th

1000 hrs - After a couple of hours of decent sleep, WillyD and I were revived....somewhat. People started showing up for the Big Bash. Caveman, Boston, WillyD and I sat around and caught up on things. It was good to see the dynamic duo again. One thing I really appreciate about Caveman and Boston is you get it all up front...no holds barred. Now some folks might take offense to this "up front" style, however, in my opinion...if this style bothers you then you just don't like to hear the truth about yourself. Respect and be respected...a simple rule of the house. Man, how can you not admire this line of thought. Sure...in reality it's a little more complex than that, but if you keep yourself focused on that mission, well....then you realize it really is that simple.

Now...I have had the pleasure of seeing those who lack respect fall under the wrath of Boston's verbal hammer. There are not many people who can command compliance in this way so effortlessly. She is a big hearted and giving person who expects...no, demands all of this in return. Why not? There is not one who would even consider challenging her on this subject.  Even in the midst of the religious factions, who claim to practice the gift of giving, and sharing what you have with others, can not be matched against what I have personally witnessed at her hand. I appreciate this. I always feel like I'm at a second home for some damned reason. Nope, I'll never take it for granted, but it's nice to feel like you are not putting someone out by crashing at their place. If I actually was, then they never let on to it. Now Ann makes it look easy to be all to everyone, and she has a long, long list of friends. I know it ain't easy. It takes a certain type of person to pull this off. It's a beautiful thing.

Regarding Caveman...I have spent many hours and hours trying to navigate this dude's head. It's a vast sea with calmness and hurricanes. Here is a man that can be as raw, and as refined, as he cares to be at his discretion.  Most are one way or the other. He seems to be able to pull off both at will. I figure this comes from really paying attention to what people are doing, more so than what they are saying. Caveman freaks people out I think. You look at him and you just know there is something always going on behind the eyes...even when he is just screwing around. Caveman loves bikes. Bikes are his passion and I believe that people are as well. Good for him...good for him. He appreciates all aspects of the motorcycle world. The history, the mechanics, the riders and the mystic...now that is a true love. I can get behind that. Some just love bikes. Some just love the image. Some just love the chrome. Some just love to ride. Some just love the M/C. Some just love the legends and stories.... but Caveman? All the above. If you have ever read any of his writings...you quickly realize that there is alot of thought there. Most people can't ride on that plane. I think he is a great writer and some of my best reads have been from his mind. Sometimes I feel like I might be insulting him by laughing at some of the stuff that comes out of his pie-hole, but there is no way around it. Just no way.

Time to drift...

"I really like that guy. At first, he scared the shit out of me...but when I started talking to him I realized he is a really good guy." How many times have I heard this? Countless. "He is exactly what he appears to be. He is also exactly what he doesn't appear to be." Did that statement stump you somehow? Then you need to check yourself because you judge without merit...you are one of multitudes who are afraid to make judgements based on experience. If you truly believe that every person is a unique individual, then you need to give every individual the opportunity to prove you wrong or right. Even better...make no assumptions before hand as to right or wrong, good or bad. "If you truly hate being a sucker, then live that last sentence; It is truly the most cautious and wise approach to anything in this world."...just my simple opinion.

1600 hrs - We are tying to put together this huge ass sun tent. It's one of those expandable erection deals...but this thing is enormous. I dunno, 15 feet by 30 feet...something like that. There were some broken pieces that just would not cooperate so we abort the frame and proceed to demo it. I enjoyed that for some reason. So, Caveman proceeds to give lessons on McGuiverism. I accidentally insulted Caveman by asking him if he had any duct tape lying around. "What the hell Dave....I'm almost insulted. Do I look like the kinda' guy who would have duct tape?...." A few moments later he tosses a roll into my hands and grinning from ear to ear. As we secure the corners with rope, a gust of strong wind catches the canvas tarp and tries to parachute Caveman into the next zip code, as we hear, "Son of a bitch! Whoa!.. whoa!...can one of you lazy bastards help me before I get dragged off here!" I laugh my ass off as I watch Caveman almost get dragged across the back yard. I don't think he thought it was all that humorous. We take salvageable parts, screws and rope and erect a decent over hang for the ladies...right about the time the sun starts to set...pffftttttt.

1700 hrs - Monday, May 30th @ 0300 hrs;  Party...period. Whatever your idea of one is, well, it probably transpired here. Ass-Man was there. The hot tub was there. 6% to 95% was represented there. The food was there. The laughs were there. The convo was there. The subject matter ranged from extremely insightful crap to the absurdly bizarre. The bikes were there, as well as the bikers. I know some of you are going to get all pissy about the lack of detail in this paragraph, but you know what...it ain't nothing you haven't seen before...or was it? I will say that it was a good time and that's all I can say right now.

I wandered around doing the iron butterfly thing. There are two fronts on this battlefield and I did 50% front, 50% back. There are a couple of experiences in the life that I cherish the most, above all others. I love to see someone actually accomplish something they set out to do. The other is watching other people having a good time and laughing like there is no tomorrow. There is so much in this world that is deadly serious,....if I can steal a moment to balance all that out with a good time, laughter and joy....well, then I'm gonna' do it. I would be a complete fool not to. I was really having a great time just absorbing all of this. It really was a good for me...that's all I know. I heard one bro "Gunny" say "This is epic...just epic." I'd say that summed it up about right.

Later in the night, Caveman walks out into the shop/garage and cranks over his bike to demonstrate the ear splitting decibels of his exhaust set up, then Boston's, then another....I still can't hear anything and the ringing won't stop. I think I also shit myself because I wasn't expecting it.   All I heard was a "Brrraaaapppp!" and I found myself without a chair under my ass suddenly.

I'm looking for some food past midnight only to find it's all gone. I found some hot dog buns though. Hot dog buns dipped in old No. 7 ain't all that bad. Nope...not at all.

Monday, May 30th
0800 hrs - WillyD and I revive and pack up. It's a long 750 back to CA and we gotta' make some time. I have to be back at work at 9am Tuesday. WillyD? pffftttt.....he set himself up for two days of recovery....after all, those older dudes just can't get it on like they used to...either that or they just got smarter. We said our parting words. It's always a little difficult moving on...dunno why, but that is what makes times like this pieces of eight for me. I get to dig into the mental treasure chest and pull out shiny memories when life gets me down. (Yes...I'm not immune, even though it might not appear that way.) As I mounted up, I tossed another precious golden bit in my chest...it made a solid, perfectly pitched tone as it settled with the rest of the treasure.

We rode all day. There isn't much to say about it other than pure exhilaration. I lost my gloves at a gas depot...pfffttt....shit happens. I was tired. WillyD gave me a lecture on not leaving anything, anyplace, other than the bike. The temps were perfect and the wind was almost none existent. We travel at 80+ most the way...it's an awesome feeling. WillyD and I have always tried to figure out as to why we have not been jerked aside by the LEO's. We have theories on this but they just seem to watch us jet by. We each have been warned over the P.A., but have never been given the ticket punch. (Knocking on wood.)

I'm free to think about whatever I want to think about. There's no distractions, other than a watchful eye for the cager who isn't aware of what is going on around them. There is always one tune that stands out on every run. Every run has a theme song. Why?  It's simple. It helps me retrieve my pieces of eight. Every run has it's own. Years down the road, a song will come across the airwaves. Instantly one of my trips will come to mind. I will smell it, feel it and think about it in that moment. The association brings back precious memories that are stowed away and I get to live it all over again. You hardcore, oldschool dudes can laugh all you want about my Geezer Glide, with the radio on it, but my memory banks are well organized, and as random as whatever shows up on the airwaves. There is one indexed for this trip;

Nobody gonna' take my head
I got speed inside my brain
Nobody gonna' steal my head
Now that I'm on the road again
Oh, I'm in heaven again, I've got everything
Like moving ground, open road
and everything.

Highway Star - Deep Purple (Yeah..it's about a hot rod...so what.)

Mindless banter? Maybe. A precise description of my state of mind? No doubt.

The sun dropped below the horizon...200 miles left to go. It's past midnight and WillyD and I have thrown on every last article of clothing we have to fight the 37 degree chill...that feels like 0 when we are moving. Man...WillyD and I really sync on runs. It's an awesome thing to me. It makes the trip carefree. It makes freezing your ass off worth it.

The last couple of hundred miles are very lonely...always have been. It's the end...it's like knowing that a relationship has come to a barren place. You try to keep it going one way or another, but you know the finality of it all is imminent. You just move along, knowing that all the sensory, passion, noise and the steady thumping of the V-Twin is going to be silenced shortly. From then on out... all you can do is just keep an eye out for another road to love. It always happens when you least expect it.

0330 hrs on May 31st - It's all quiet now except for the ringing in my ears. I feel another one around the bend. There is always another one...just has to be.

A Road Tramping Friend

2011-06-13T11:20:00.001-07:00

What is a man's best friend? A dog right? Oh yeah, for sure!...maybe, but not mine. A good woman? Oh hell yes!...that goes without saying, but that would be too easy to guess. A motorbike? pfffttttt...please...you got me on that one. Ok, ok.

So you like all those as best friends...however, when all those leave you flat assed at one time, or another, there is one thing you can count on. If you like to road tramp then you are a straight up dumbass if you don't carry this best friend with you as far as I am concerned...I'm talking about a friend that should always be attached to your ass at the hip.

I'm talking about a good, trusty knife.

"Oh good lord V.D., here you go again with all your testosterone charged man crap again. I'm not a violent person so take your knife pitch here and shove it up your ass already" you say.

Ok then...I respect your opinion here at RGC...good for you man. I'm not really a violent person either, but, you live in a world that has trained you to be a victim, not just from thugs but from the natural world itself. If your down for that then have at it. I will not stand in your way...nope. Not me though, and I personally don't anticipate that my best friend will ever be used to defend my life, or the life of a brother or sister...but the chance is still always there and you simply must be ready to deal with it when it comes your way. My prayer is that you never face that situation...but that is simply a prayer.

But you are a damned fool if you simply look at a blade as a weapon. You have been brain washed into thinking that knifes and guns are evil weapons of destruction. Yeah....they can be used for that but fire can be used to sustain life or destroy it...the secret is in your use of it. Wish more people would get this through their pea-brains. Let's talk about our friend the knife as a tool, that can be used for good as well.

Here are real world examples of my best friend in action...things I have used my blade for; Cutting clothes from an accident victim, building shelter, removing ticks and stingers, cutting ropes on my friends tent as a joke, skinning game, cutting seat belts from trapped accident victims, cutting firewood, first aid uses, self surgery uses...(many times, heh), haircut...(that didn't come out so well.) motorbike repair, a long list of "other" repairs, a friendly game of "stabhand", lashing my friend to a stick as a spear to fish, bottle opener, can opener, dog opener (sorry dog lovers...didn't have a choice.) and the list goes on...but that is all that came to mind at the moment.

So, I'm selling my soul here for free. I have turned a whole bunch of ad offers, free swag in exchange for promotion offers and insurance offers because I just can't bring myself to make a buck on the crap I write up here. Stupid? maybe, but then again I need to be able to post whatever I want up here, and if I get a sponsor then they start telling me what I can, and can't post...Screw that. I'm not taking the fun out of this blogging deal....maybe someday I'll fold but I don't see it in the future.

What I am into is seeing other people realize their dreams. If I can help someone I know pitch something I think is worthy then I'm going to do it. Brother Hagred's creator has started up his own online pig-sticker store. Wish he was around earlier because the prices are REALLY GOOD. (Hagred's father is a long time biker, who has travelled all around...yes, even to Alaska, on a motorbike. I admire this dude and he's a good man to boot.)

Here is the link to a whole world of new friends: MY-ONLINE-KNIFE-STORE

Example: I spent $120 on this gem. My all time favorite must have friend.

You can pick up the bad-ass friend for $76.50 right here - KA1212 USA Fighting Knife

Every biker absolutely must have one of these:

You can pick this handy friend for $40.45 right here: G1471 Suspension Multi-Plier

As a great good Samaritan friend, this guy might serve as a good companion:

You can pick up this little life saver for $21.60 here: KA3082 K-2 Rescue Kit

And as my final choice for a backup friend, in the event that you can't call upon all your other friends, this guy might help in a pinch:

You can pick up this easily concealed backup friend for $14.85 here: C22B - Black Z-Frame

Sure you can pick up all this stuff other places, but good hunting. Now you can get it all in one place. How friggin' kick ass is that!

You like bikers? Then support the efforts of one. When you are in the market for a handy friend don't ride out to just anyplace. Support our brothers and sisters in their efforts to do just what they wanna' do. We are a family...besides...everyone could use a few more friends right? Especially ones that don't talk alot and simply get the job done.

Arizona...Another Epic Trail II

2011-06-07T17:16:00.001-07:00

Sunday, May 29th

0120 hrs - "Something doesn't feel right...better take a look" I roll over onto one knee and slowly peer over the saddle of my bike. My vision is blurry and I'm trying to focus on whatever it is I'm suppose to be looking at. I scan the darkness for something, but I have no idea as to what I'm looking for. I look over at the first R.V....nothing. I look at the other motorhome...quiet. I always strap on the K-Bar when I sleep anyplace unfamiliar, so I unsnap the retaining strap because I know something is close by...I just wish I knew what the hell it was. The sound of the strap release makes something move in my peripheral and my eyes dart over in that direction. At first I thought it was WillyD moving but then I realized that two blazing yellow eyes were staring me down. The lone pole light behind me was enough to make those eyes glow bright...something that resembled a hell hound that you may have seen in a horror movie. A chill shot up my spine for an instance....then I came to my senses. Whew!...Its a mid sized coyote...or a desert fox. I can't quite make it out but it's standing right behind WillyD's melon. A big grin crosses my face as I want to laugh out loud...but I really wanted WillyD to turn around and see this thing sniffing at his head.

"Willy!....Willy!....don't move." I whisper trying not to laugh.

"What the fuck...what do you want now...can't you sleep you stupid bastard." WillyD growls back.

"Shhhhhh....Behind you...you are about to be a main course brother...roll over slowly....you'll see exactly why I'm awake." I quietly whisper back.

Right about then a Arizona State Trooper pulls quietly to the side of the road a hundred feet from us. The critter jumps back from WillyD a safe distance and continues to eyeball him. WillyD rolls over and says, "You woke me up for a damned dog? wait...that's a coyote! No shit!"

"No shit....not only that, the man is watching us from over there." as I point to the patrol car.

"Can't anyone leave people alone...fuck.....why do people always gotta' be messing with other people...are we doing anything wrong? No.......I just wanna get a few minutes of shut eye...damn!" WillyD rants with sheer annoyance in his voice.

"I'm going to lay back down...if he has a problem he will come over here and let us know." I chuckle as I dropped back down onto the pavement and watched the coyote trot off into the brush.

A few minutes later the Trooper gets bored and head back out on the road. All is quiet now and I'm drifting once again.

0155 hrs. - I'm wide eyed once more. I hear footsteps nearby. K-Bar gets unsnapped again as I roll back up on one knee.

"What the hell is it now." I grumble to myself as I brush off a bug that was crawling on my face.

I peer back over the saddle to see an older gentleman talking on a cell phone. I can't make out everything he is saying but I did hear, "Well, I better get everyone ready then. It won't be much longer before they get here."

I'm watching this and thinking to myself, "Who? Out here? We are in the middle of nowhere...and I mean no where. Who in the hell is going to show up here at this time in the morning?"

Suddenly the generator on one of the motorhomes fires up and the lights turn on inside. Then I see the other R.V.'s inside light beam up. 15 or more folks start piling out of the two motorhomes like a fire alarm just went off in a fire station. People are running around getting ready for something that I am not privy to.

"Sheeeeaaaaattttt....what now!" I hear WillyD curse as he slowly stands up.

People are setting up flashers on the side of the roadway and hauling expensive $4000.00 bicycles off the rear racks of the motorhomes. I'm starting to laugh because this is exactly what I signed up for on this trip...the unexpected.

An older gentleman walks over to us and starts apologizing for waking us up. He explains that they are part of the "Relay Across America". It's a relay race, on bicycles, from San Diego to New York. Riders would peddle 50 to 100 miles at a time along checkpoints, were the race would continue with fresh riders taking over. WillyD and I just happened to stumble onto one of the checkpoints....pffftttt.

We talked to the folks for about 30 minutes as we watched the weary riders roll in. As the new riders headed out I whooped and hollered for them...after all, there wasn't a whole lot of fan far going on at 2am in the morning. It was the least I could do. They fed WillyD and I barbecued chicken on a stick. After we chowed down, Willy and I decided it was time to move on. We thanked the group and headed out.

0330 hrs - It's getting brisk as we rip through the desert. The moon finally showed up on the scene. A double sized, blood red, crescent moon just above the horizon made the night surreal. I was really digging the sensation of it all. We approached a small town and saw the lit sign for a quickie mart. As we roll into the lot, I see the female clerk quickly move to the front door, then disappear. As I walked up to the front door my suspicions were validated....yup, she locked us out. Oh well...par for the course I suppose. I went around to unload some liquid refreshment while WillyD started to put on his cold weather gear. The temps had dropped to 58. I burned one as I waited.

WillyD finally speaks, "Well...if they don't want me using their bathroom then I guess I'm going to have to piss outside."

WillyD heads to the side of the building in a well lighted area and commences to taking care of business. I, on the other hand, start laughing my ass off.

"What! What's so funny...haven't you ever seen anyone taking a piss? You act like it's the first time you have ever seen this." WillyD spouts out in his usual monotone drawl.

"No....I have seen it before alright,....,just haven't seen anyone do in front of a big ass video camera before!" I laugh out loud as I point to the gigantic camera up on the corner of the building, that just happend to be zeroed in on Willy's Willy.

"Whatever....it'll give 'em something to talk about...let 'em watch...besides, it serves them right for locking us out." Willy says as he finishes up his business. "But we probably should get moving on before the squad car shows up....here, drink this", as he throws me a 5 hour energy shot. (These things work really well. No crash and they make you feel like a million bucks...for a short time anyway.)

0445 hrs - The sky is turning light blue and the sun is started to make it's appearance. We roll into Wickenburg, AZ. My cell phone rings and it's Boston on the line. "Where the hell are you guys...hurry the hell up. I just woke up for a smoke but Caveman is going to be around. My ass is going back to bed...see you when get here. Love you guys and be careful."

It was a nice thing to hear right about that time. We were on the final stretch. We were both tired but not in the danger zone. The air was crisp and we sat around a Shell gas station drinking coffee for awhile. WillyD was going off on a full sermon about how great Dunkin' Donuts were. Donuts, Donuts and Donuts. I believe Willy....I believe.

0545 hrs - We headed out and after another hour or so, finally made it to Caveman's cave. The garage door was open and his impressive collection of bikes was gleaming in the morning sun. I don't remember his first words as we dismounted, but it was something sarcastically funny....that I do know. Boston was up and as cheery as she possibly could be at that time in the morning.

"You two are insane...good to see you guys made it. You've got a few hours before everyone shows up...my ass is going back to bed. Crash wherever." Boston said as she stumbled back to her room.

We did indeed crash for a couple of hours. We needed to be somewhat functional for whatever was going to happen next.

Arizona...Another Epic Trail

2011-06-06T19:14:00.001-07:00

The one thing I love about the motorbike is you can pick up and go just about anyplace without a whole bunch of money. Yup, that what I love about road whoredom....it's just a low cost way to escape from it all. If you find the right posse to ride along then it's even better. Most would say what you are about to read is a nightmare. I call it living a dream.

Plan? No plan really. The only plan was to make it 750 miles to Arizona by Sunday to attended a "Black Leather Tie" occassion at Caveman and Boston's Casa. Always a good time over there with good people who accept you for who you are. By what route? Dunno. Where to stop? Dunno. What was going to happen?...certainly don't know.

Let me wander just a bit here.

"Escape...yeah. Every man needs to be free for a short time. A good man knows responsibility, honor and hard work. A good man also is well familiar with balance. I have watched men walk the line their whole life, only to tell me, near the end, that they regret not doing certain things. That frightens the hell out of me. Not much makes me nervous...but not wavering from "the line" is really one of the great fears for me. Balance...yeah....you need to have it or you become bitter and apathetic. In my opinion, always walking a line that is put forth by other men is a horrible crime. You absolutely have to blaze your own way at times or you might as well be dead. If you are happy with just existing then good for you...but be advised...some of us just can't do that. This doesn't mean that you are allowed to hurt people along the way. You must always exercise respect and honor. Give what you get, and in turn, get what you give. A good man embraces all aspects of life. He knows why things are the way they are and the absolute necessity of it all. There is no black and white...he simply does the best he can. There is a time for compassion and there is a time for aggressive counter action. The real key to life is finding yourself knowing precisely when to stand down, and when to draw down. Once again....there is the true balance. Anyway...I think you get the point here."

My escape-Just the highlights;

Saturday, May 28th

0930 hrs - WillyD and I head out from the Central Coast of California. Normally the skies are fog ridden in the home town, but today the temps are in the mid 70's and the sky is blue. A rider could not ask for a better day no doubt. We hit the highway and I feel all my stress, anxiety and pisstivity melt through the bars, down through the frame and onto the blacktop. A trail of finely ground, coal tinted dust dissipates behind me as I leave it behind.

1400 hrs - Awesome weather...the best. Things are going way too good as WillyD and I roll into Bakersfield. A quick break at a Shell fuel dump and we head out with another rider we picked up along the way. Heading over the Tehachapi pass is always awesome. Off in the distance I can see the wind is really picking up. The hillside that is clustered with a hundred or more electric producing wind mills are hypnotizing. I'm in a trance watching them spin at a high rate of speed and I almost feel like I'm watching the world through a giant kaleidoscope...vertigo sets in so I start looking at the road ahead.

1300 hrs - We stop at the top of Tehachapi and give Rat a call. The wind is fierce and I'm watching my bike bounce around on the jiffy stand. We were trying to hook up with the infamous Rat, but he was extended at work. It looked like he wouldn't be available until 7pm..."Sorry we missed you Rat, another time maybe...we'z gotta' move on."

1800 hrs - WillyD and I are heading into Barstow. The wind is fierce...maybe one of the worst winds I have ever ridden in. Waves of sand and dirt blaze across the roadway. A huge dust devil is coming up onto the roadway on our left. A quick twist of the throttle accelerates us past it just in time to avoid certain pain. My concentration is deafening as my grey matter constantly monitors the gusts of wind and sends corrective measures down through my arms and into the bars. "Push towards the wind, lean...wait....wait....release and straighten up now!...next gust....push into it and lean....release!" It all goes down instinctively...thank God that my fairing forces that front wheel down on the asphalt. Sand is getting in my eyes and making it hard to see. The distance ahead dark and hazy...not from fog but from all the dust and dirt being blown into the atmosphere. We pull off to let the blood flow back into our arms and grab something to eat. I decide I'm gonna grab two patriot missile sized hot dogs. I have been trying to eat better recently so I grab a big, juicy green apple for desert...boy...was that a mistake.

1930 hrs - We are back out in the wind, but only for a few minutes. As soon as we connect with I-40, going east, the wind is to our backs. It's frickin' paradise now. Tearing across the desert at 80mph and it almost felt like we were standing still. The wind pushes us down the roadway..."This is what it's all about!" I think to myself. I check out the awesome scenery as we move on down the road.

2100 hrs - We just celebrated crossing into AZ. The brain buckets came off and we danced around in a Pilot parking lot in celebration. The police arrive just in time to calm us down. A squad car blocking our exit and another parked next to us. We sat down and waited for the lecture....which, for some reason didn't happen. They just left us alone and left. Yes!!! Then the revenge of that healthy green appled kicked in....yup, I sprinted to the head just in time to unload all of it. It wasn't pretty. Thank you Pilot truck stop...you are my best friend.

2230 hrs - Arrival in Parker, AZ. Lots of people running around in the festive party mood. The infamous green apple strikes again without warning...c'mon...what the hell!?! I barely make it to a Chevron...damn...that was close. WillyD and I sit out front for awhile watching a swarm of NightHawks doing their thing above us.

2300 hrs - We head out to nowhere. Running through the Arizona desert is peaceful. The temps are perfect and there is no moon so it's pitch black. The stars are bright and I can't think of much that is as peaceful as what I'm experiencing at the moment. I listen to the v-twin hum underneath me. I count the various critters running across the road in front of us while trying to identify what they were. WillyD won't vere for anything that isn't at least as high as the front wheel...no mercy there so watch your ass small critters. We pass an overturned melon toting big rig that had apparently run off the road. No assistance to offer there...looks like the authorities have it under control..."Hope there are no other drowsy melon jockeys coming our way."

0030 hrs - We find ourselves out in no man's land. An abandoned gas station and a recently closed cafe are at the crossroads. It looks like a fine place to get a couple of hours of sack time. We pull under the protection of the pump overhang. One lonely spot light is all there is around and there are two motorhomes parked in the area...most likely "weary" travelers just pulling over for the night. I roll up the jacket for a pillow and lay down on the cement slab. It's cool and feels good on my spine. Bugs I have never seen before scramble around on the ground next to me in the lighted portion of the slab. I watch them battle for survival...UFC has nothing on these little warriors. I look up at the sky and watch dozens of small brown bats dart about underneath the light, trying to score a meal. Some of them close enough to reach out and touch. I grin and think to myself how great this all is. WillyD is laying on the other side of the bike and already sawing logs. The generator, of one of the motorhomes, has just shut off giving way to silence. I can hear the moths, that are desperately trying to evade the bats, occasionally slam into the tin overhang we are under. The sound is interesting to me...it's the same sound I hear when one smashes into the fairing of my bike at high speed. "Those little bastards must be moving fast!" I think to myself as I drift off. I'm not sure if I'm asleep....I know I'm dreaming...but I can still hear everything that is going on around me. It's not real sleep but it will do for now. As safe as I feel...I can't afford to be out cold....no way.

Sunday, May 29th
0120 hrs - "Something doesn't feel right...better take a look" (continued)

Memorial Day

2011-05-28T00:42:00.001-07:00

A convo with my father years ago;

"Dad...what did you see there? Was it pretty kick-ass?"

- Watch your language son. Most of the time it was pretty boring. The rest of the time it was so intense that I didn't know if I would see another minute. All I knew is I had to survive and get my friends through it...that was the only thought in my head.

"What do you remember most about being over there."

- I remember the landscape. I remember the flowers and how beautiful the countryside was. The people...I remember the people. They are very generous and good folks. Always smiling. I could have done without the pungent mold smell all the time, but that's nothing.

"Really? That's kinda' odd hearing that...considering what was going on over there at the time."

- Son, you can dwell on the horrors of life, or you can dwell on the good things in life...I prefer to dwell on the good. There was a lifetime of bad over there. I would like to leave it there...that's all.

"I guess that's why you are still pretty level headed. That makes sense pops."

- Perspective...that's all it is. Don't dwell on things you can't change. Change the things you can. All I ask is that people do not forget....yeah, they just can't forget because it will happen all over again if they do. Don't call me pops...my name is Dad...don't forget it.

"So...when you came back...how did you feel?"

- I was happy to come home. I didn't care if people didn't like me. I can't expect them to understand...they were not there. I forgave them for I was a warrior and if I could handle staring the reaper man in the face daily...well, I figured a few un-informed people were not worth getting all upset about...after all, freedom to express yourself and pursue your opinion and dreams was what I was defending...it's all good. Actually...I was glad they were practicing the freedom THAT I GAVE THEM. It was my honor to give such an awesome gift to so many. You just can't get all mad about it. It won't change a darned thing.

"What changed when you came home. Did you feel different?"

- Oh yeah. I saw that I took what we have here for granted. This is a great country and we enjoy the best this world has to offer. Hmmm....I have more compassion for people and life....yeah life is the most precious gift. Sometimes I feel guilty I survived when some of my friends didn't. That hurt sometimes...but hey, what else can you do but honor that memory by living a good life and honor that by being good to people.

"What else bothered you about coming home?"

- Heh, I think it was the fact that you were 3, almost 4, years old and I missed those years with you. You didn't know who I was. You would stand between me and your mother for the first few weeks and tell me; "You're a bad man. Don't make my mommy cry anymore." That was heartbreaking.

"Sorry dad, but you know the story. All I knew about you was that once every couple of weeks Mom would get a package from a strange man I didn't really know. Sometimes it was the reel to reel tapes I would listen to with her. As she listened she would start to cry. All I knew was some man would make my mom cry with every letter, or every audio tape. I didn't like that. I didn't realize that it was tears of pride, joy and worry."

- It's ok pal...I got used to you jumping between us in the bed and telling me not to touch your mother. Thank you son. I knew that my little man was taking care of his mother while I was away. You done good.

"Thanks Dad...but you are a great man and a great father. I'll never be able to live up to you. You are bigger than life...if I even become half the man you are then I figure I've done good."

- I don't know about that. I don't feel like I was a great dad sometimes, but thanks for thinking so.

"Dad...you are a great man. I know this. Everyone knows this. Thank you for everything you have done for me. I want you to know that I'm going to do my best to make your proud. Thanks again dad. I love you."

- Man son...I love you too.

"Dad, I know you do...You have proven it more than most fathers can. I want to thank you....for everything."

Keep At It...Whatever It Is

2011-05-20T14:00:00.001-07:00

So it's been a year. Lots of stuff has changed in my life, but somehow I have managed to stay true to myself. That's a big deal considering there are a ton of people around who would do almost anything to change my thinking, as well as give me an extreme fashion makeover...pffftttt...good luck, ain't gonna' happen people! "You just better learn to live with me... for I have learned to live with you."

So....yeah...it's been a year. My new year was on the 6th. Some people do the New Years thing, but I do the Birthday thing. (Thanks for all the b-day wishes by the way!) I don't like to celebrate my birthday in the traditional method and actually don't like a big deal made of it. All I want to do on that day, is exactly what I feel like doing...that's it. I like use the day to think about what has gone right, as well as what has gone wrong, then I make some decisions on what to change...besides, making a New Years resolution really isn't such a hot idea after a late night of throwing back shots. (Yeah...how has that worked out for yah in the past? Bwhaaaaaaaaaaah!)

One of the things I came up with to change this year was, "Get to the friggin' point dude!", which is what I'm going to do right now.

Most people fail because they quit, or they get bored, or lack the self confidence to get it done. How do I know this? I have done all three at one time or another. I'm really familiar with failure. I'm almost as familiar with failure as I am with success...get the point?

Why are people so damned afraid of failure? Screw that...seriously! If you are not failing then you are not trying hard enough. If you are strong enough to accept failure, then you are well positioned for success. Believe it. Here is how it works....FAIL, FAIL, FAIL, FAIL, FAIL, FAIL, FAIL, FAIL...WHOLLY SHIT!...I DID IT!

Last year B.B. bought me a acoustic guitar. I struggled and struggled with it. It was different from the thrash metal on the electric guitar. I soon realized I really didn't know how to play so I just stuck with it, read some books and practiced. I thought about giving it up a few times...this is normal, but then I remembered my Birthday resolution. I owed it to myself to get this done...and I did.

I'm not posting this to tout how friggin' great I am. It's been my year in so many ways, and not my year in many others, but that is what makes this life so damned amazing! Whatever it is that you want to do. Whatever dreams you have. Whatever aspirations you set...YOU SIMPLY MUST PURSUE THEM...otherwise you might as well be dead. This video that I threw together was one of my dreams and now I'm living it.

Hey...Why don't you go out and do something you wanna' do? Why the hell not? Check out my year and what has made my life really bitchin'

(Sorry about the poor audio quality. I shot this with my dinky camera...and no, I'm no Eric Clapton, Zakk Wylde or Stevie Ray Vaughn so there are ALOT of mistakes...but I'm still working on it. Maybe someday I'll be good enough for myself...but that is a lofty goal...hmmm...which means it's a good one. They did it...why can't I? Better yet...why can't you? It's a start...jerk on the throttle dumbass!)

Cancelled? What The Hell!

2011-05-16T13:55:00.001-07:00

I hate to be the bearer of bad news...but the Vietnam Vets/Legacy Vets - Wounded Warrior Run has been cancelled. The promoter couldn't comment as to why, but just stated that it was for "Political" reasons.

Now, knowing the promoter and his crew, I know it isn't something that is easily resolved. If they won't let me in on the dirt, then I know it's serious. All I know is they can't talk about it. Fair enough...I'll accept that answer from you boys, but if it were anyone else, then "Hell no, I need an explanation."

So, if you were planning on showing up to this event....well, now you can make other plans. When "Politics" factor in as to whether you can hold an event to support those who helped secure your right to assemble, then we have a problem here. You are going to see it happen more and more in the future, just as you have seen it over and over in the past.

Now...here is the real difference, and the only difference, between what has happened in the past and the things that are happening now. I'll try to give it to you in one sentence; "The difference is simply the strength of the people's backbone and what they are willing to fight for." It's up to us folks. There isn't anyone else to do this. It's our time right now. Pretty soon you won't have a choice because of health, time, money....whatever. Let's think about what the future will see when they look back. Will they see a strong generation?

Are you willing to fight? Are you willing to stand up and say "Oh hell no! Now you have gone just too far!" What's really sad is folks will go ape shit over the cancellation of a boob-tube program. They will write letters, and make phone calls, and threaten to do all sorts of things. When it comes to things that really matter in this world, I don't see too many people really giving a shit. As long as their life is comfy and clean, then they won't lift a finger because they don't want to give up the cush...and you wanna' know how why we are all controlled by a few? It was right there...you just read it.

A whole bunch of young men and women did the whole backbone thing for you. Whether you believe it or not, they gave you a voice. Do I support every cause? No. Do I do enough? I don't think so. Do I do what I can?...that you can be assured of. Let's not leave all of this up to those who have put themselves in harm's way. I think it's time to put ourselves in at a minor inconvenience, just to thank those who REALLY HAVE PUT THEMSELVES IN HARMS WAY.

Ok, I'm bummed here. This was a great cause and a great event that actually meant something to me. Looks like I'll have to figure something else out. I think I'll start my own rally or something for this cause....what the hell!

Vietnam Vets/Legacy Vets M/C

2011-05-03T11:29:00.001-07:00

JUNE 11th, 2011 - Vietnam Vets/Legacy Vets M/C Poker Run. Keep this date open for a good time, to support a good cause.

There are alot of kick ass reasons to hit up this event. Firstly, you get to hang out with a whole bunch of really great people who share your passion for the bike. What? That's not enough!....ok, how about off setting all those schmucks out there who gave these boys a ration of shit when they came home and showing some support for some courageous human beings?

How about we throw in some live music, some great food and a few door prizes...do I have your attention now? How about we play a nasty game of poker together on the motorbikes!

You are a hard sell I see....ok...how about we do all this in a huge parking lot that is between "J & S Surplus" and "Eagle Iron Leather". "J & S" is a military surplus store that has just about anything you can think of that is survival or military related...well, about anything the state of CA will allow them to sell. "Eagle Iron Leather" is a great place to pick up all things biker.

Wow! WTF is wrong with you! This is gonna' be a hoot my friends. All my outlaw brothers and sisters are going to be there, along with my inlaw brothers and sisters...not to mention all the folks that I have not had the pleasure of meeting yet....still not sold yet huh?

How about cruising the beautiful Hwy 1 there and back? How about a great opportunity to snap some ocean side picts with sea lions, boats, pelicans and the sights of the Moss Landing harbor, that is only a minute or so away? Still not convinced that this is worth the effort?

I guess it's time to break out the big guns then...

The real reason for this "Band Of Brothers" is to support the "Wounded Warrior Project". I'm a member of this organization and what it does is gives veterans who have been wounded in combat or have lost limbs hope. I'll let them tell you what they do. Click here --> "Wounded Warrior Project"

What else are you going to do on that day?....mow the frickin' lawn? pfffttt...screw that! Treat yourself to a good time and meet some heroes and support those who are trying to make a difference. Opportunity knocks so answer the damned door and help make a difference somehow and have some fun while you are at it! Your ass is gonna' love you for this...as well as a bunch of deserving Veterans who took a hit for you and I.

Wounded Warrior Poker Run
June 11th, 2011
Freedom Chapter California

All this for only $20.00! Wholly shit...what a bargain....what a bargain for you!

Sign in from 9 - 11 A.M.
Hwy 1 & Struve Rd.
Moss Landing, CA 95039

Butt Head

2011-04-12T12:23:00.001-07:00

I might just think about this one...but I'm afraid I'll get rear-ended, or tail gated, or something like that...

Superman Is Serious Business

2011-04-04T17:45:00.001-07:00

Burning blacktop and having fun is what it's all about. I savor a good time like a fine wine. (Even though I don't know jack shit about wine and never will.)

The fun and screwing around is all good, but I have to take this time to remind all of us of some things that we tend to overlook. I guess I'm reminding myself more so than the rest of you...but I figured that if I could get something out of my own thoughts then maybe you could to. If you want to read the thoughts of a man just being honest wih

RIDING A MOTORBIKE IS SERIOUS BUSINESS.

Now, this might seem like a no brainer to most people and essentially it is, but how many times have you really sat around and thought about this in depth?

"I know I don't...because I'm so comfortable with my bike and my skill level."

Ahhhhhhhh....there lies the problem right there. I have lost all fear regarding my bike. All of the wipe outs and drops I have experienced as a rider have done something really horrible to me. They have not made me afraid of my machine, but have done exactly the opposite. They have given me a "Superman" complex. In other words I have no worry while riding. I know without a doubt that if I crash, or go down, that I will come out of it relatively unscathed. (My idea of unscathed may be completely different from yours.)

THIS IS HELLA' STUPID AND THE SUPERMAN COMPLEX SENDS MANY RIDERS TO THE ETERNAL DIRT NAP.

I have never wiped out at speeds above 55 mph...don't know what that's like. Everything below 55 mph? Yeah, I know all about that. I have had five major crack ups and a dozen or so minor crack ups. I have managed to walk away from all of them. Soreness and road rash was about all I suffered.

The one thing that has always flashed through my head, as I was flying through the air, was; "I'm going to come out of this ok. Just relax and take the hit." It has always turned out that way. Can you now understand as to why I'm so frickin' screwed? I suffer from a mental disorder...I don't know what it is, or what it's called, but this mental condition makes me feel that I can't be killed in an accident. It just can't happen to me because I have managed to dodge so many rounds that I can't even count the bullet holes on the wall behind me anymore. I just call it the what you read above, the Superman complex.

I'm setting some new rules for myself because it's just that time; more like re-committing to the old ones.

1) Getting K.I.A. on a bike can indeed happen to me. It's not something that just happens to other folks. I'm not immune to getting killed on a motorcycle. Dave...do not take this lightly anymore. It ain't no joke.

2) I am not as skilled at riding as I would like to think I am. There is always something to learn...but let's take the easy lessons from now on and not the hard ones.

3) I must assume that I am invisible at all times...even if the other driver is looking right at me.

4) I must assume that it is the job of other vehicles to try and take me out. I need to assume that I have been targeted for asphalt elimination.

5) I refuse to ride with others if they have been knocking back shots of booze. After the ride is done, that's all fine and good...but anytime before that just stay the hell away from me. If you screw up a good run for me because of this, well, I just might feel like beating your ass if you don't die first. I need to think about you...You need to think about me. Let's have a bitchin' time together and that can only happen if we are watching each others back.

6) I'll save my tricks for controlled conditions or when I ride solo...ok, ok,...even solo because other folks depend on me. Riders admire other riders for death defying stunts....right up until the point where they crash and burn...then it just sucks ass. I'm good...but not that good.

7) I will not take advantage of my small road footprint and weave in and out of traffic just because I can. I will make damned sure I do exactly what other drivers would expect me to do as if I was driving a cage.

8) I will make sure that my bike is maintained to specs in "analic" fashion. I will check my bike before every ride. I will replace parts before they decide to malfunction if I have any indication that they may fail on the road.

9) I will assume that I am going to have a catastrophic crack up at all times in order to keep myself vigilant in observing the previous 8 rules, in my best attempt to avoid it, even though I know there is no escaping it. I must assume it is going to happen.

10) (This is the hard one to observe.) I will always wear the minimum required safety gear. A helmet should always be a choice, but at the same time, I acknowledge that a helmet has UN-DEFINABLY saved my life on at least three occasions that I know of for sure. I hate helmet laws and it should be a choice. Yes, I will ride without one if I'm out in the middle of no-where, but anyplace else? If I'm worried about the way I look with a helmet on, then I'll just think about what I'll look like as vegetable on life support...

There...I have renewed my vows to Tramp.

Yah' know...I have had many friends killed on motorcycles over the years. I would love to blame someone else for their deaths...but honestly, I can't . I know what happened and every rule I just committed to above is an example of how each of them died. I can only think of maybe two, out of the dozen, that were a result of a careless cager. The rest?....hey...they knew the risks.

Oh yeah...everyone wants to blame it on the cagers, but DAMNIT! WE NEED TO DO OUR PART TO STOP THIS BULLSHIT AS WELL. ALOT OF YOU, INCLUDING MYSELF, ARE FUCKING UP HERE BY BEING A BUNCH OF IDIOTS, AND DOING SHIT THAT WE SHOULDN'T BE DOING.

I don't pretend to think that I'm telling any of you anything that you don't already know, but yet some of us are a breed that requires risk. I'm talking to those of you who fit this group, which I am included in, in hopes of keeping you around long enough for us to sit around and laugh about all the good times we have had.

Riding is serious business people. We already have enough cards stacked against us as it is, without adding to it. No, V.D. didn't grow up over the weekend. Yes, V.D. is still going to be just who he is...but he is not a complete moron and understands exactly what he is up against.

He needs to keep reminding himself of all of this in order to keep the Superman off his back. Is the motorcycle my Kryptonite? Maybe.....just maybe.

Tough Times

2011-03-30T18:32:00.001-07:00

So...yeah....uhmmm....just checking in. I beat my longest "no ride" streak in almost a decade. I have been off my ride for 11 days. Yup, been hoofin' it for over a week now. Actually the exercise was doing me some good.

Don't worry (not like you were really worried, but at least let me have the illusion that you might be), the bike is fine, but my wallet? yeah...big problem. I haven't been able to register it for months. Finally I hit the six month mark so I couldn't risk getting my bike impounded.

Today I finally scraped up enough to get it done. A brother hooked me up out of the blue and I want to just say, "Thank you my brother." (Yah know, this really is what the whole biker deal is about...taking care of your family. I'm good at helping people but I'm not good at accepting gifts, but this brother told me I would be insulting him if I didn't accept. Thanks again bro. What comes around goes around and you just helped prove that.) The total was almost $500 bucks....pffftttt. The thing that is really freaking me out is I must be losing my touch. I couldn't sweet talk the DMV employee into cutting me some slack this time around.

The good news is this, "Hang in there folks...we are almost out of this economic cemetary. I see things happening that are really going to get us moving again." The signs are there. I hear people talking more positive as of late. No one is telling me they have just been laid off...all I hear is people telling me they just found a job. Hell yeah!

Peace and love...peace and love. Wow...that first ride after the 11 day dry spell has really made things look up for me. Almost as good as the first time all over again. Seriously!

Good For You Kid

2011-03-17T16:09:00.001-07:00

Alright...Twitch asked me question on a comment. As it turns out alot of people have asked me the same thing. Why? I dunno...however, I figured it was worthy of ranting about. Yes...this is a rant, but it has a point. Whether you believe this or not, this video is all about so many things I can't even think of where to start. I'll try to keep it short. (pfffttt...good luck on that one...I'm gonna' try.)

Watch this first...I'm pretty sure almost all of you have seen this, but just in case.

"Bully Gets What He Asked For"

Ok, Here is my view on this;

1) What you just watched, was a condensed, thirty second history lesson of mankind. You just saw every world conflict, and the reason for it, right there. Self preservation is every person's responsibility. God gave you life, the most precious gift anyone has ever given you. You must defend that gift at all costs. If you have had kids, then you have added responsibility. Honestly, it is the only reason our civilization has survived to this modern time.

2) "...but what about peace, and love?"   What about it? It's a nice concept, but if you have two eyes, a brain, and have ever taken the time to watch how nature does it's thing, you realize that peace and love are the two driving forces behind conflict...even beyond money. You can't get nearly as many people behind you and your fight with just money, as you can command with a promise of peace and love. People will fight to the death for the promise of peace and love. Every apostle died in the name of non violence and love. I ain't no saint, and I'm not going out like that. Sorry. Until I'm given the title of Saint, well, I'm kicking your ass if you try to hurt me, or my family.

3) This video illustrates what is wrong here in this country, even though this didn't happen in the U.S.. What does a bully, a criminal or a greedy dickhead look for? Here is the answer: A victim, or someone who will not fight back. Our society, and legal system, is making victims of the American public. You have had your firearms stripped from you...the ultimate equalizer. You have been told that violence is completely unacceptable in modern society. If you do happen to defend yourself in righteousness, then you are going to have months, if not years, explaining it. Hell, I find it disturbing that a guy can threaten to punch my wife in the face and then only to be told that "There is nothing we can do until he actually makes physical contact." (which actually just happened) Sorry boys...I'm not letting it get that far. I would rather do time than let that happen.   The short of it is, that all these punks will continue to do this to people as long as you let them. Take a stand...even if you get your ass handed to you. You will see a dramatic drop in crime if more people stood up to face this type of thing.

4) You know what else I saw in that video? Something I have seen over, and over, and over again. I saw my brothers and sisters, who I consider, what folks label as the "biker." I can't count the number of times that I have seen the exact scenario played out, only in adult form. I have watched, time and time again, some jackass start shit with one of my friends, with exactly the same results, only to watch my brother take the hit for defending himself, simply because he was "a biker". I have never seen one of my brothers start an altercation...nope, not once.  I admire the patience I have seen. I have heard them say, "Brother, I have no problem with you. I'm just here to have a good time so leave me alone", come from the mouths of bikers so often it's ingrained in my grey matter, yet people seem to perceive this as weakness, when they really should have seen it as a warning. I saw every brother and sister I know do this exact thing in the video...they took care of it and then left when the threat was squashed.

So...here is where the real rant is. I heard a lawyer say this; "If you let Casey off, then you have given every kid that is being bullied the green light to hit the bully, instead of doing what they are told to do, which is to turn the other cheek and go to the office and report it."

Wholly shit! That statement alone is EXACTLY WHERE THE PROBLEM LIES. Here is a little personal story. I have been in hundreds of fights..almost all of them were work related. It was a job. In my personal life I have only had a few. Now that being said, I have only lost one. It was the most important lesson I have learned in my lifetime thus far. It was a moment that forever changed the way I think.

I was 14 and I had a major hard on for the 'bad-ass' of the neighborhood. I harassed this kid for days. One day I followed him home with some friends, much like what you saw in this video. I was going to hand this kids ass to him and nothing was going to stop me. He tried to talk me out of it over and over again. I would not have any of that. Finally he stopped and looked at me and said, "You are not going to stop now are you." I said that I wasn't until he was on the ground. Before I could get another word in, he upper-cut me in a flash and then followed through with a hook. All I remember after that was looking up at this kid, who had his hand extended, in an attempt to help me back up, telling me he was sorry. After that we were best friends.

The point to my little account is this.   On that day, I was taught a lesson that would last me and entire lifetime. I never bullied one person ever again. If I ever got into a altercation with someone, after that day, I had to be in the right. I promised myself that I would never "bully" another person from that day forth, and if I ever did, that it would be for a just and righteous cause, or in defense of someone else who could not defend themselves against the threat posed. I also think that is the reason I have survived, considering the number of confrontations I have encountered. I have a mental edge over the aggressor, because I exhausted all other avenues, in an attempt to avoid a fight. I'm in the right as far as the law, and in the right ethically.

Two great things came from this incident. One boy now understands that you can't intimidate others into doing what you want them to do. The other boy now knows that he doesn't have to live in fear, and that he can, in fact, defend himself. Both learned a very valuable life lesson here. It's a win, win situation in my eyes.

If this didn't happen who knows what the future would hold. One would become a major asshole, and the other possibly would commit suicide because he felt helpless and worthless. My son knows that fighting is a LAST RESORT, but, he also knows that he does not have to put up with physical abuse from others. "Son, if you have indeed tried all other options to diffuse the situation, and that doesn't work, then you destroy the aggressor. Do what you must until he stops the assault, then render assistance if safe to do so."

Finally, I know I'm going to hear this. "What would Christ have done?" Sorry, I'm not Christ, and if I said I was, then you would want to hang me on a cross. I'm sorry if that offends anyone, it's not my intention, but seriously, I would rather go down fighting for my gift than let you take it from me....for when it comes right down to it, my life is everything that I am. It is the only thing I really have on this earth that is mine, and only mine. My body is the only worldly possession that is mine, and only mine. You are not touching it without my consent...or without me putting up a hell of a fight.

"Good for you kid, good for you....Now, don't let it go to your head, stay humble and cherish peace my son, however, understand, that sometimes peace has to be fought for...history has proven time and time again. "

Order Of The Black

2011-03-14T14:59:00.001-07:00

Sex, Drugs and Rock N' Roll. Sex?...goes without saying. (don't tell me you haven't done it you liar!). Drugs?...Get that synthetic shit away from me or I'll dot your eye with five. I gots' no time for your stupid ass. Rock?...The artistic representation of freedom in my opinion. Motorbikes...another medium that includes all of the above...unfortunately. Can we change this to "Sex, Bikes and Rock & Roll?" No?..too bad, I just did...done.

Occasionally, you run into an album that just rips. Not just one song, but the whole damned thing. This is the first time, in years, that I have heard an album that knocked me on my earhole. Not everyone's poison, but if you are into Metal, I think you will dig this one.

"Black Label Society - Order of the Black"

Ok...if you have been reading my crap for very long, you have realized I'm not big on "hero worship". Sometimes I run across something that is indeed worthy of worship and it makes me mad, just because I'm one of those dudes who simply looks at every man, or woman, purely on their own merits. Wholly crap...I can't help it this time around. F'in Phenomenal fingering that could stomp the crap out of that "deaf, dumb and blind kid with the crazy flippin' fingers."...even at pinball.

Here is the guy, who inspired me to finally take up the guitar, along with "Dimebag". (Still working on the guitar thing though.)

So much for hero worship. Sorry Zakk, I don't worship you, but, I think you are a talented dude who deserves to reap the benefits of your talent and craft. You know what else I dig...here is another person who just went out and did it. That being said....I can respect this man for that and also thank him for being the kind of man who know what he wants, and who has the balls to go out and make it happen. Your an idiot if you can't admire that, just a bit...even if you despise this genre of music.

Now...don't we all need a little bit more of that in our life's? You know....balls?

Dead Man Riding 11 - The Final Mile

2011-03-07T22:41:00.001-08:00

Roy and Hagred accompanied Rebekah to wherever she was intending on taking them. Neither of the two men had ever trailed behind a woman rider before, but neither seemed to mind it at all. Once in awhile, the two men would look over and give each other a cheesy grin simply because the lady could certainly ride.

Hagred thought it was refreshing, and the view wasn't bad either. Rebekah looked damned sexy on her Dyna and watching her carve the twisties just made her curves that much more appealing. Both men couldn't help but acknowledge the simple fact that her delicate exterior could harness, and command, a healthy dose of bad ass.

Roy really started to feel that he was falling for the gal. Trailing behind her and watching the independence in motion was gritty poetry to him. He kept telling himself that he was not going to be another fool and that all this was just some visceral chemical reaction that would pass in time. He had to be honest with himself though regarding the truth of the matter. He knew that if the lady wanted to let him into her soul, that he was already a goner.

Eventually Rebekah led them to a pea gravel driveway that took them to a modest three bedroom house. The yard was vibrant with flowers and appeared to be very well kept. It was the kind of home that you might imagine seeing anyplace in small town U.S.A. A white picket fence surrounded the property and a Staffordshire Terrier ran across the luscious, green grass to meet Rebekah as she dismounted from the Harley.

A middle aged woman opened the screen door and walked out onto the porch. She waved at Rebekah and smiled. Roy instantly recognized the woman. He knew it was the vibrant young woman that he had seen in the riders log. He figured it must be Rebekah's mother Eva.

Hagred looked around as he hopped off his motorbike and loudly shouted, “We ain't in Kansas anymore ToTo! Wow...this place looks like something I would see in one of those Hallmark Specials.”

Roy just looked over at Hagred and gave him a scowl for being a dumbass.

Rebekah gave her hound a few good rubs, followed by a few sweet baby talk pitched atta-boys, and then started to walk up to the woman on the porch. The two dirty ones just stood in the driveway awaiting whatever was suppose to come next.

Roy and Hagred stood there and watched Rebekah and the woman talk. After what seemed like an eternity, the woman walked back inside. Rebekah came back down the stairs and told them that her mother would be back out in a few minutes and that they could sit down and relax on the white, wooden lawn furniture that was next to the garden.

“Wow Bec, this place is really a paradise. You have a regular Garden of Eden here.” Roy said to Rebekah in a calm and relaxed voice. It was a tone that even surprised him.

“Thank you Roy...it keeps my mama happy. I told my mother your twilight zone story...she didn't even seemed phased by it.” Rebekah smiled.

Hagred was over on the lawn doing some wrestling with the dog. All animals just loved Hagred. Roy could never come up with an explanation for that trait that Hagred possessed; He just figured that his good natured soul shined through and became apparent to the entire animal kingdom.

Roy continued to make small talk with Rebekah; “Sometimes I wonder if Hagred has ever grown up. Sometimes he is a man bigger than any man I have ever met. Then again, when I watch him right now, all I can see is a boy. It's a cool thing to watch. When we go out on road trips, we will be sitting by the campfire and critters just come right up to him begging for whatever he happens to be stuffing in his mouth.”

Rebekah giggled because she was thinking almost the same thing as she watched Hagred rolling around on the grass with her canine roommate.

Rebekah's mother reappeared with a pitcher of iced tea and a photo album. Roy suddenly shuddered because he knew he was going to be there for awhile. Moms was pulling out the big guns here and Roy was directly in the crossfire.

Hagred immediately conceded defeat to the sloppy tongued mutt the moment he saw the iced tea pitcher, that just happened to be complimented by glasses full of ice and lemon slices. Hagred also saw the photo-album, but figured he could endure a few hours of lamenting as long as that iced tea kept flowing.

Rebekah's mother, Eva, poured four perfect glasses for the ragged posse. She looked over at the VStar and said with a smile, “Somehow, I knew I was going to see that bike again.”

Eva continued; “Rebekah told me what you two boys were up to. I can't say I'm surprised because I was waiting for this day to come...I have been waiting a long time for this day.”

Rebekah's face look puzzled. This is not the response she expected from her mother. She was expecting some anger, or sorrow, or something...but she certainly was not expecting a smile that radiated a peace of sorts. She instantly realized that maybe her mother knew much more than she let on. She suddenly realized that her mom knew all about her dad, without knowing anything about where he was at or what he was doing.

Eva gave Roy the photo-album. He started to flip through the album as she started to tell about the man that was captured inside; “Daniel was a hell raiser for sure. He wasn't a bad person, but he sure loved to push things to the edge. I had a crazy crush on that man, with his bad boy image and all. He was full of color and life. The few years that I was fortunate to have him were enough to last me an entire lifetime. You bet your buttons that I was devasted when he took off, but honestly, I knew he couldn't stay after finding out about my health condition. I knew that man all too well and I came to accept it.”

Eva looked at Rebekah and put her hand in hers and continued where she had paused; “Baby, I need to tell you some things you didn't know. I didn't tell you, what I'm about to tell you, well, because I didn't want you taking off to look for him. I needed you here."

"I was angry that he wasn't here for support at first...but somehow, I knew what he had to do. I knew he would make good on his promises to me as a husband, and he did. The medical bills were piling up and we were drowning in debt. A few weeks after he took off I started getting money in the mail from different addresses all over the country. Some were a few hundred dollars and others were thousands. Then, one day, a gentleman came to the door asking for Daniel. I told him I didn't know where he was. The man handed me a check for $80,000 dollars, and said more would come every month depending on sales. I wouldn't take it at first, but then the stranger told me that Daniel had given him a second chance. He explained that he had met Daniel at a truck stop in Winnamucca Nevada. Apparently, this man tried to rob Daniel shortly afterwards. Daniel gave him a good attitude adjustment.”

Eva paused for a second and laughed, then continued the story; “That poor man. Daniel lived for justified conflict. I used to chastise him for his brawls, but secretly, deep inside, I loved it...it made me feel secure because I knew no man could possibly lay a hand on me. I was safe with Daniel. Anyway...I guess Daniel really gained the respect of this man and they became pretty good friends after that. Daniel gave him some money to get back on his feet, then disappeared a few weeks later. The man told me Daniel had left him an envelope with $15,000 dollars in it, along with a note that simply said, “Get your shit together bro.” The short of it is that this man took that money and bought into a machine shop, which turned into an on-line, after-market parts business. Are you boys familiar with “Rogue Custom Chrome?”

Rebekah gasped, “Uncle Daryl?” as she put both of her hands over her mouth.

Hagred's eye sockets bulged out like he had just gotten flattened by an eighteen wheeler.

“Are you fucking shitting me lady! Shit...I get all my parts and bike bling from those guys!” he bellowed out in disbelief.

Roy reached over and slapped Hag on the top the the head and said, “Dude! Don't you have any manners! There are ladies present here ya' dipshit!”

Rebekah and her mother laughed out loud.

“Roy, my mother and I own that bar you were at earlier...we have heard it all and we speak sailor ourselves, but it's always nice to have a gentleman around once in awhile.” Rebekah giggled with delight.

“Anyway...” Eva continued, “the man's name was Daryl, Daryl Neilson, or as Rebekah referred to him as Uncle Daryl. He would come around a couple of times a year asking for Daniel. He would make sure I and Rebekah were ok and would help us fix things around here. A couple of years ago he brought me some papers to sign. They were stock certificates in Daniel's name. I guess he owns twenty percent of the business. Daryl figured it was the least he could do for Daniel, since he was the guy that had turned his life around.

Once in awhile, I get letters from people thanking Daniel for helping them out. I have no idea as to who any of these people are, but they seem to know who I am, and who Rebekah is. I have the best medical care money can buy. My M.S. is a stretch to deal with, but considering I have a new lease on life, coupled with the knowledge that Daniel loved me above all others, well...my life is a dream now. I donate the money I get from “Rogue Custom Chrome” to various charities that help people with my affliction. It has given me a purpose and has helped me cope with the hand that has been dealt me.”

Rebekah was smiling from ear to ear. She wanted to reunite with this man that she thought she knew. He was much larger than life suddenly and she felt ridden with regret over her hazed and skewed view of the father that had left her. She reached into her jacket and pulled out her father's riding log.

“Mom...that's Dad's bike over there, but you already know that. These two found this log under the seat. I want you to have this.” Rebekah said as she handed it over to her mother.

Rebekah, Roy and Hagred sat there for almost fifteen minutes in silence as Eva studied the log. She smiled intently the entire time, until she came to the last entry. After she read that last entry she looked up at Rebekah with a smile. Tears of understanding, loss, love and joy trailed down her cheekbones all at the same time. Rebekah could swear that she saw a rainbow of sorts in those tears.

“That man loved us more than any man possibly could. He didn't know it, but he sacrificed a lot to get the two of us where we are at now. Sin is a good man's brother my daughter. You father was everything a man should be in my opinion. I still love him, and miss him, with every breath I take.”

“Do I need to leave now?” Hagred mumbled as he reached down and plucked a couple of blades of green grass from the lawn. “I'm not good at this emotional trauma crap.”

Roy interrupted the awkward moment and said, “We should look up this Joel guy, in Grand Junction. You need to get your Father back here pronto.”

Eva smiled at Roy and said, “It won't do you any good. Daniel has moved on. I felt it months ago. Suddenly, after all these years, he comes to me while I'm asleep and we talk. I thought I was going crazy at first, but then I put it all together. Do you really think that you, would have that bike, if he was still alive?”

Suddenly it all came together for Roy. Daniel was using him to settle his debt. Everything made sense now. Roy realized he had been riding bitch this whole time. Daniel was really in control of the Vstar. He had led Hagred and him to the bar, to his daughter and then finally to his wife Eva.

“See! I told you brother! Thank God I'm not crazy anymore....you better vouch for me from here on out Roy. No more 'Hagred is a psycho' crap.” Hagred perked up.

Roy pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed information. He got the operator to give him the number for the Wagon Wheel Motel in Grand Junction. He dialed the number and listened to the ring tone that was answered soon enough.

“Hello, I'm looking for Joel. Is he available?” Roy said.

“This is Joel...can I help you.” the voice on the other end said gruffly.

“I'm a friend of Daniel's. He told me to call you, in order to get a hold of him. Is he in?” Roy excitedly shot back.

“I'm sorry pal. I hate to break the bad news to you, but Danny cracked up in the Rocky Mountains. He didn't come out of it. A drunk driver pushed him off the road and, well....he just didn't make it. I'm sorry man. Danny was one in a million...a-lot of folks around here are gonna' miss that dude.” the man on the other end said with genuine regret in his voice.

“Oh” replied Roy, trying mask the shaky pitch that was taking over his vocal chords.

“If you want to pay your last respects, he is here. I'll put you up at no charge if you want to head out this way.” Joel said.

Roy was silent for a moment. He didn't know quite what to say. After a few seconds he finally was able to speak again. “I'm with his daughter and wife at the moment. They want him to come home. My name is Roy by the way.”

“I know you Roy...Danny talked about you. I also know all about Eva and Li'l Bec. That's all the dude talked about most of the time. Somehow he knew the reaper was coming for him. He never met you but he used to ramble on about how he needed to find a 'Dead Man Riding'...that dead man must be you. Danny finally made it home my brother, he finally made it home through you.” Joel said with shock and disbelief in his voice.

“Really.......I have his Vstar with me” Roy said slowly with equal shock and disbelief in his voice.

“I restored that bike as best as I could. It was my way of paying forward to a man that helped me buy this Motel. It was the only thing I thought I could do to repay him for his favor. I gave it to a broker, in some crazy ass hope, that Danny would find his dead man riding. I can't believe that this is for real man...just fucking crazy!” Joel said with renewed faith and vigor in his voice.

“Can I call you back Joel?” Roy said.

“Hell yeah brother...anytime. I wanna meet you.” Joel replied.

Roy hung up the phone and looked at Eva. She was sitting there smiling at Roy.

“I told you he moved on. He is here right now. I can feel him next to me.” she said with joy in her voice.

The four sat silent for almost half an hour as they thought about all the circumstances that had brought them together.

Eva finally broke the silence; “Are you boys on a road trip?”

Hagred answered, “Yes maa'm...but it looks like it's over now. We found what we were looking for.”

Eva looked at her daughter, then at the two men who sat in her garden. She smiled with renewed energy and spoke; “No boy...it's not over yet. I have at least one good run left in me. How about we all saddle up and meet Daniel...out there. How about we head out and meet these people who have helped me and Rebekah all these years.”

The four people looked at each other for a few minutes, and finally Rebekah smiled a smile that Eva had not seen in ages.

“I think it's about time us road whores, well... hit the road!” Rebekah smirked with a grin on her face.

“I'm in...hell yeah baby!” Hagred excitedly shouted.

Roy's brow was furrowed with concern. He looked over at the three bikes in the driveway. Someone was going to have to ride bitch.

His thoughts were interrupted by Eva, “Roy...I know what you are thinking. Follow me.” she said with an evil grin on her face.

Eva walked with Roy around to the back of the house, and to a shop shed. She unlocked the padlock on the door and opened it. Rebekah and Hagred trailed a safe distance behind.

Roy's heart dropped into his shorts as he looked inside. He could hear Hagred behind him whispering, “No way man....no way, no way....no way.”

Eva gave Roy a stern, serious look, then spoke with power and authority in her voice; “Now, that bike doesn't belong to you Roy...you know this by now. I want that bike back. I want Daniel with me always and forever. That is why I'm going to offer you fair trade. That is yours now. The Vstar is mine. Do we have an agreement here?”

Roy handed Eva the keys to the Vstar. Eva slipped Roy a new set of keys. Those keys were to a completely restored, 1942 Harley Davidson WLA. It looked like it just came off the factory floor.

Roy's voice shattered as he hugged Eva and said, “Thank you.”

Then he looked back at Hagred and Rebekah and said, “Well, Hag buddy....it's green, that's bad luck...however, since I'm officially the dead man riding, well...I guess it's safe for me to ride this bitch. This road whore is officially sanctioned”

Roy looked at his prize in silence. His joy was more than he could handle at the moment. He put his hand on the vintage bike and whispered, “Thanks Daniel...you are something else. Thank you for the reward, and the faith.”

Then he heard a voice that sounded like the sandy dust on the wind. It said to him, “No Son, thank you for the faith. Dead Man Riding, this is just the beginning. Carry on my work...the real reward is right behind you. Take care of it.”

Rico Is Back!...Sorta

2011-02-15T17:47:00.001-08:00

Some of you have been asking where the "Bike Blessing" post and video went. Well, it just wasn't good enough. No, no....I didn't take it down because I was afraid of offending some poor soul...c'mon...it's me we're talking about. I wanted to redo the video...so...yea...it will be back up but improved. I'm gonna make someone a star.

Next business....

It's been a few of months since Rico went down on his Kawaski Ninja. We were really stressin' about his condition. He didn't want anyone to see him and refused to take visitors so I wasn't sure what was going on. He finally came out of the closet and showed up in his wheelchair. He was doing wheelies...pfffftttt.

He is up now though. He broke his pelvis, two vertebrae (I9 and something), arm, collar bone....lots and lots o' stitches. They had to graft some skin from his ass and put it on his arm. Some of them look like some mutant grafts from Resident Evil. I think I'll call him "Strong Armed Ass" from now on.

Bad news though...the answer to the 'sorta'. Brother Rico will never ride again. He said he just can't take the risk anymore. If the accident was his fault, then he could have brought himself to ride high again, but since it wasn't his fault...well, he said he just can not accept that. He just can't accept the fact that someone else was in control of his destiny. Better news? The lady who hit him had Primo coverage. He is looking at close to...well, I can't tell you that, but his settlement will keep him comfortable for decades to come. She was texting when she pulled out and mowed him over...literally.

The funny thing though, and the bright side to all this is; After a couple of years he will be able compete in the cage fighting arena again. I wonder if all the metal in him will disqualify him? Who wants to jump into the ropes with an alloy frame surrounded by organic tissue?

"Rico! Rico! Rico!...love you my brother but sheeeeeaaattttt....you broke your spine...ride the bike and give up the ass kicking! Seriously!...but, I understand. Stick with your decision...until you change your mind at least... heh.

Just glad you are still around. You get my vote for bike survivor of the year. See you around after you get that titanium rod installed on the pelvis...You got coffee coming since you are going to be in the wheelie-chair for a few months more. Best wishes on the next volley of surgeries!

Dead Man Riding 10

2011-02-11T15:17:00.001-08:00

"How did you find me?" Rebekah said to Roy with a relieved look on her face.

She had been waiting for years to unload her emotional distress. She had finally come to terms with the idea that she would never know what had happened to her father. All she knew was that he just rode off one day with a pack strapped on the back of the VStar. She was twelve years old and loved her Dad as much as she loved breathing air. She was very angry with the man that was larger than life. She wanted him dead at times, only to find herself wishing he was around the next.

"I have never met, or seen, your father...until I showed up here. I didn't even know I was looking for him until you kicked me in the face." Roy replied as he held a damp cloth against his bleeding lower lip.

Rebekah's mouth dropped open and she just sat there and stared at Roy. She didn't know what the hell was going on at the moment. She knew this was her father's bike. She knew that Roy was there for some reason looking for her, but what didn't add up was the "why?'"

"I'm confused here...are you some kind of con-man or something? Hahahahaha...boy, did you come to the wrong place if you were looking to score a quick pile of road dime road whore." Rebekah cynically blurted out.

Roy smiled, as he felt the split in his lower lip snap open again, as he began to speak; "I'm going to tell you everything that has happened to me over the past couple of days. Now, I gotta' warn you....it's gonna' sound really far out, and honestly?...I'm not even sure if I'm still sane because of all of it, but you need to hear it because obviously, I was guided here by something I don't understand at all."

Roy sat and told Rebekah about the purchase of the VStar, the off-ramp of doom, the garage light, along with the defiant, spectre forced feedback steering and handling characteristics. He told her all that had happened.

Rebekah became more and more uncomfortable with the story as it went along. She soon started to doubt her decision to get the two road dogs off the hook, and actually considered making another call out to the constable to get the two men the help that they so desperately needed. The only thing that kept her from getting up and walking into the bar, was the fact that her fathers VStar was sitting on the stand, only two feet in front of her.

"...so, that's about it. Oh! Hold on a second here...I also found this under the saddle." Roy finished as he reached inside the inside pocket of his leather jacket, and handed the riders log to Rebekah.

Rebekah's hand shook as the reached out to grasp the package. Rebekah slid the ratty journal out of the weathered and tattered plastic bag. She half expected it to be some kind of ransom letter...or maybe some devastating secret. She almost didn't want to look at it because she suddenly felt like all the years and tears were far less painful than what she was about to discover.

She carefully opened up the journal. There, scotch taped to the inside of the front cover, was an old photo of her sitting on the VStar, just before her dad had disappeared.  That was more than a decade ago. Joy flooded her thoughts and she tingled at every nerve ending. She started to read quickly through some of the cryptic numbers, names and addresses. She looked at road maps that were marked up in red and yellow scribbles. There were soul searching paragraphs about people he had met, and all the things he was seeing as he tramped across the United States.

There were pictures of Rebekah's mother throughout the journal. Most of them were pictures taken before Rebekah had shown up on the scene. Some of the pictures she had never seen before and she smiled at the knowledge that her parents were young people at one time as she looked at a snap of her father, dressed up like a renegade hippy, proudly perched upon an old school chopper. Standing next to him was her mother, who was sporting tight, bell bottom jeans and a red and white striped halter top, blowing kisses to whoever was fortunate enough to take the picture. Her mind was racing and she had never been so confused in her life. All her anger, and her emotional defenses crumbled right at that moment. She could feel all of the painful, emotional sludge, that had been building up inside, ooze down her body and dissipate into the ground beneath her. She was almost free. She could feel it, but there was still the burning question; "Why Papa?...why. Did you not love mom and I enough to weather the hard times you knew was coming? Where you that shallow to run instead of stand up for us like a husband or a father should?"

Rebekah sat there for almost half an hour. Roy was smart enough to just sit there silent and flick pebbles, with his index finger, across the ground. He knew his charge was almost finished. All he had to do was to look at Rebekah's face. It told the whole story to him. He didn't have to hear it, or read it. He could see it as well as feel it. As callous and as hard core as Roy appeared to be, he was finely tuned to the souls of the people he was around.

The silence was finally broken by Rebekah; "Can I have this? Please...I need this. Do you understand? I will pay you whatever you want for it, but this is the single most important thing to me right now and I don't think I could bear to lose him again."

Roy looked at Rebekah. He could now see clearly past the tough, sexy "once in a lifetime" bombshell that was close enough to touch. All he could see now was the little girl. A little girl that had a father once, only to lose him along the way and left with only parts, that she didn't know how to put together. As annoying as all this appeared to be, he realized that he was simply the part that would make it all work together again.

"Roy...would you let me have this?" Rebekah interrupted with a look of despair on her face.

Roy looked over at her and grinned out of the corner of his mouth, then followed it with a confident wink and a nod of his head, then said; "I bought this bike, and it has been a real treasure, and a curse at the same time. When I found the journal I knew this bike didn't belong to me. Like I said, something guided me here and I can't even pretend to understand it, however, I know why all of this went down now. Your old man is trying to tell you something. As far as that journal there? Well, it's yours and always has been. The bike is yours too, even though I'm gonna' take it in the shorts. I've done alot wrong in this life and maybe it's about time that I stopped thinking about myself. In a way, maybe both of us have been helped out in some way or another through all of this."

Rebakah giggled slightly and let go a deep sigh. She appreciated that the hard core, somewhat good looking, neanderthal had a good soul buried deep down there somewhere. As a matter of fact, the man reminder her of her father slightly.

"Roy...I don't know how to thank you for showing up today...turning my world upside down, then right side up again. The bike is yours because I believe somehow, you were the one that was suppose to have it. All this is freaking the shit out of me." Rebekah laughed.

Roy's face suddenly went solemn again. Rebekah didn't look through the journal close enough, but for some reason, he felt he needed to direct her attention to the last entry in the journal. It was the one part that Hagred and he had read earlier. He wasn't going to leave this alone until she read it because it was the piece that made them start the search for answers.

"Bec, do me, and yourself, a favor. Read the last entry in the journal for me." Roy said as he reached over and flipped the book to the back cover with his index finger. Rebekah sat quietly as she read the final entry;

"Hey Eva...it's been a long time;

     I don't expect you to understand, but there is something coming for me and it's as black as night. I feel it tearing at me around every bend. I think my work is finished and I know there is no way for me to make up for what I've done. I know you and lil' Bec must not think much of me, and honestly, I don't think too much of myself but I didn't know what else to do. Since you were diagnosed with M.S., or at least what they think is multiple sclerosis, I have been at a loss at what to do. I couldn't stand the fact that, a hard headed man such as myself, could do nothing to help you. It really messed with my head.
    After I was laid off at the assembly plant, and couldn't even pay for the medical bills, I felt like the weakest stiff on the planet. I started drinking, and carrying on, because I wasn't strong enough to accept the fact that I was going to lose you. I was pissed off at the world. I was also being selfish and only thinking about how your disease was fucking up my perfect world, and screwing with us as a family. It was killing me. The only thing I could think about was running away to start over. I'm sorry girl, but that is exactly what I set out to do when I left...just run.
    A couple of months out on the road made me realize what a mistake I had made, but I was too proud, and stupid, to turn my ass around and head back home. I realized that I had to make this all up to you, somehow. I met some folks who run with a tough crowd. I had nothing left at that point. Somehow in my run for freedom I found that I had imprisoned myself in the bars of self pity. I didn't even care what happened to me because in my own mind, I was dead anyway. I fixed their bikes for them in exchange for road dime in the beginning, then I started running courier for these people who slowly became a family to me. I didn't know what I was hauling ass with in the saddlebags...didn't care. All I knew was there was big money in it. Then it hit me...I needed to make up for all the wrongs. I started to help people with the money as I traveled, the rest of it I sent to you. People would ask me how they could repay me....I would just give them the address to the house and tell them to pay me back by sending it there. I don't think too many of them will be able to ever repay the money but that is not what matters. At least I was doing something in the light, in order to balance out all the black that surrounded me.
    I have been a fool. I'm ready to come home and I have wasted too much time running from myself and my responsibilities. I have never stopped loving you and Rebekah...I don't blame either of you if you hate me and can never forgive me for what I have done. It was a cowardly act and I have a hard time looking into the mirror...as a matter of fact, I don't even know what I look like anymore honestly. I have accepted the reality that I just might spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the suffering, uncertainty and anger I have inflicted upon you, but at least know this; There has never been anyone else for me...never will be.
    I'm going to mail this to you when I reach Grand Junction. Call the Wagon Wheel Motel there and ask for Joel. All you have to do is tell him to send me home...I'll wait there until you decide. If you never call, well, that is where I will be until it's time to hang it up.
    One thing is for sure. I love you more than myself...I know that sounds stupid considering what I have just told you, but I know it to be the truth. I may have gone and done things ass backwards, but it's the only way I knew of to try and fix things. Hope I'm not too late. Tell Rebekah she is the sunshine that keeps me going. Tell her I'm so sorry for ripping her off of the years.
    Hopefully it's not too late for us, and if it is, well...then I blew it. If you never respond, well, I understand that too. If I could do it all over again I would do it different, but unfortunately, there is no rewind button in this life. All we can do is move forward from here. I miss you. I miss our daughter....I miss us.

Your Loving Road Whore;
Daniel"

Rebekah sat there and cried for a couple of minutes. Roy just sat there feeling like he should leave. He rolled up on one knee and started to stand.

As he got up, Rebakah smiled at him through the tears and said, "Don't leave...it's ok...I'm finally free because at least I know now....I'm very happy right now. Just knowing is enough and it explains everything to me. I'm still angry with him...can't deny that, but I also knew, somehow, he loved me."

Roy just smiled as he felt his chest soar free. It was the same feeling he got on the on the down hill side, of the first drop, on a roller coaster. He could coast from here on out, or at least, until the next uphill climb.

"Roy...would you and your friend come with me to my house? I want you to meet someone." Rebekah said as she wiped her eyes with the back of her weathered, yet feminine, hands.

Roy just smiled with every bit of sincerity he could muster; "Not a problem...you got a brain bucket?"

Rebekah just laughed out loud and sniffled a couple of times; "I better have one...that Dyna over there is mine. I might be a bitch, but I'm not into riding bitch Roy."

Bike Blessings?...Pfffttt

2011-02-01T14:00:00.001-08:00

I had just finished wrapping my pipes with that doo-dad tape when WillyD showed up. I sprayed the sealant on the wrap and fired up the bike to make sure that there were no leaks coming from either of the heads. Within seconds the bike started smoking and WillyD started the video rolling.

So, WillyD and I were sitting around laughing at the video because the bike looks possessed...BINGO!

So...You have seen Bike Blessing after Bike Blessing...but, have you ever seen a Bike Exorcism? Yup...you saw it here first. I'm going to start charging a couple of bucks for this service. Any takers? Only $15 bucks! STUPID IS BACK MAN! (did it ever leave?) BigD, WillyD and I are now in business. If you need a bike exorcism done....well, Who you gonna' call!

Thanks in advance for not kicking my ass BigD and WillyD...Yeah, I said thanks...which mean neither of you can do crap about it now!

Dead Man Riding 9

2011-01-29T20:46:00.001-08:00

Hagred, Roy and "Bulldog" stood up against the wall behind the building. Hagred stood there with his thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his jeans. He had a big ole' grin from ear to ear, and if you didn't know what had just transpired inside, you would have thought he had just scored an oral interview in the bathroom with one of the female patrons of the bar.

Roy was leaning against the wall on one leg on the ground and the other on the wall behind him. He was dying for a cigarette but the constable of the township would not have any of that while he was conducting his investigation. Roy's eye was almost closed shut, due to swelling, and his bottom lip felt like a over cooked pasta noodle. The bump on the back of his head didn't help his mental state all the much either. Roy would think about his head, then divert his thoughts to his lip, then he would start thinking about his eye. This cycle was done over and over every minute or so. Thinking about one pain cancelled out the other two temporarily. Once he couldn't take that one pain, he would switch his thoughts to one of the others. That pain would go numb while the next injury's throbbing would come into focus.

"Ooooohhh...I almost forgot about the back....I'm a mess....guess I better add that to the cycle", Roy laughed to himself.

"Bulldog" was pacing back and forth in front of Hagred and Roy like a caged animal, while the waitress told the constable what had happened just out of the earshot of the three undesirables. "Bulldog" stopped for a second and then turned to Hagred. Hagred had to look away because he didn't want to hurt the guys pride anymore than necessary by laughing out loud.

"Bulldog" then said to Hagred, with a strange admiration in his tone, "I wouldn't think a guy like you would have tampons in his damned jacket...but this works man, I feel like a pussy right now, but I'll be damned....it works!"

Roy and Hagred started to laugh out loud at the statement. "Bulldog" laughed as well, but he would have been roaring alot louder if he had a mirror in front of him at the time. It would have been almost impossible not to laugh at the sight of a himself with a tampon, that was cut in half, stuffed in each nostril...complete with string for easy removal.

"A trick I learned in the military...and to boot, if the ladies know you have these things handy, well...you become the go to man. The ladies love a man who thinks about their needs yah' know!" Hagred chuckled.

Roy had to interject as he motioned his head towards his brother, "And that's about all the ladies go to Hagred for."

"Bulldog" was finally able to take the lead on the speedway of laughs, while Hagred started to fall behind in third place.

After what seemed like an eternity, the peace officer and the waitress walked back to the bleeding wall flowers.

"If it wasn't for Rebekah here, I would have all three of you as guests for at least 72 hours, but for some reason she seems to think that you boys can redeem yourselves somehow...I don't think there is much hope for any of the three of you idiots...but then again, I have been wrong before. Don't even think about trying anything like this again in my jurisdiction or I'll have you bags of shit hanging from the welcome sign at the edge of town." the constable said in a jocular manner.

Roy and the "Bulldog" didn't smile at all and just nodded their heads in Thanksgiving fashion. Hagred just stood there with the same arrogant, self satisfied grin on his face. Roy was becoming worried that Hagreds grin was going to be a permanent accessory for the next few months. Roy was already over it all and just wanted to move forward.

The constable tipped his over sized Stetson to Rebekah and started walking back to his squad car. Halfway to the car he stopped in mid step and turned around to address the "Bulldog", "Larry, I have told you time and time again...get off those damned steroids you dumbass. You were an asshole before, but those roids have pushed beyond that classification...I don't even recognize you anymore. If they don't kill you somebody else will...I'm suprised the hairy one over there didn't do the rest of us a favor today."

Hagred's grin went sour for a second and his jaw opened up in preparation for the drop of a verbal warhead, but Roy gave him a sharp punch to the elbow before any ill will launched out of his pie silo.

"Your partner seems to have his head together hairy one...have a nice day." the constable said as he turned and finished his swagger towards the black and white.

Hagred mumbled to Roy quietly, "Screw him...I bet he is as bald as "bulldog" under that hat. That son of a bitch will never get me to donate a single pubic hair to his cause...and I don't even care if the hair club is paying top dollar."

"Heh, shit brother...shut the hell up...we got off easy. Why do you gotta' stir up crap all the time?" Roy replied as best as he could without having to move his lips.

Rebekah waved off the peace officer and walked back to the three men.

"I worked some magic just now...Roy huh. Well Roy boy...let's go check out this bike of yours. Larry, you probably should go home. Tykus is coming in to finish your shift. No hanging around tonight...got that?" Rebekah said sternly.

"What about me maa'm?" Hagred boyishly threw out there.

"Well hairy one...you are with him, and I have never bought just one shoe so I guess I have to buy the pair now don't I...and since this is officially our second date, the name is not "maa'm", it's Rebekah." the waitress matter of factly answered.

"Yes maa'm!" Hagred shouted back.

"Bulldog" went back inside and the remaining three walked down the service alley to the front of the bar. Rebekah stopped in her tracks for a moment when she saw the VStar. She smiled a mile for a second, then her face just went cold and pale.

"Rebekah...you said you could tell if this was the bike or not." Roy said quickly. He was trying distract her because he could sense there was a hurricane of conflict raging behind her dark brown eyes.

Rebekah stood with her arms folded across her mid section and studied the bike. Roy stood there in silence as he kicked a couple of small rocks across the gravel parking lot. Hagred's face was facing the bike, but his eyes were cranked hard to the right, in a clandestine attempt to stare at Rebekah's voluptuous assets, that were being held hostage in a tight t-shirt and smartly resting on her forearms.

"This looks like the bike but it's all scratched up." Rebekah finally said.

"Uhhh....yea...my bad", Roy offered.

Rebekah reached into pocket of her apron and pulled out butterfly knife and then quickly stuffed it back in. After a second or two of rummaged around she pulled out a leatherman and rotated out the flathead screwdriver of the multitool. She kneeled next to the bike, then stopped for a moment to look up at Roy. He had seen that look before and it tore at him. He could tell that there was a catch-22 behind this story and no one was a winner and no happy ending was going to be running up on them.

Rebekah removed a screw from the mid-frame cover below the seat and carefully pulled it off. She looked at it for a minute and took a deep breath, and then turned it over to look at the inside of the plastic cosmetic piece. Roy looked over at Hagred, who was now looking down at his feet. Rebekah sighed loudly and started to weep. She pulled the cover against her bosom and cried tears. The tears were neither tears of joy, nor of sadness; they were made up of a mixture of both emotions.

Hagred walked away from the scene. He was always very emotionally tuned to folks and was always there to give support, but he knew that this was a time he couldn't help out. He simply couldn't stand around a watch the situation go down, and if he couldn't help, then he couldn't allow himself to get involved at the moment. He was smart enough to know he couldn't take this on because he already had enough emotional baggage to check in himself.

Roy didn't know what to do for the lady. He didn't know if he was suppose to cry with her, or take a knee and give her a consoling hug. He didn't know if he was required to shut the hell up or say a kind word, so he just stood there and waited for some sign that would steer him in the right response.

The two sat silently next to the bike for several minutes before Rebekah could clear her throat enough to get the words out. Her vocal chords felt like they were stretched tight as guitar strings that were two octaves too high.

As she handed the cover to Roy, she was able to get three words out, "Love you papa."

Roy took a close look at the inside of the cover. His eyes welled up and his lips tightened up as he fought the confusing battle to retain his facade as a man's man. He desperately blinked his eyes in an attempt to fight back the flood as he made out the message that was scratched into the inside of the cover, that read, "Papa and Becki's Wishing Star - 2001"

Dead Man Riding 8

2011-01-27T16:22:00.001-08:00

Roy turned to head back to the table when he felt a huge, meaty palm firmly grab him by the shoulder.

"Where do you think you are going with that photo cowboy." a deep, monotone voice said behind him.

Roy stopped for just a millisecond to assess the situation and came to the conclusion he was in the wrong at the moment. He aborted his instinctual reaction. An action that was certain to land him, and a whole bunch of other folks, in the pen for the night, if not longer.

Roy turned around to see a 5'12" bald pitbull, in human form, staring at him with tightly clenched lips and flared nostrils.

"You would look a bit more friendly without the "Clint Squint" pal." Roy smiled at the bouncer in hopes of retaining his teeth.

"Well...hand me back that photo, get your ass out of here, and I'll go back to my three stooges look if that will ease your mind a bit." The 260 pound, steroid pumped brick wall replied with a confident smirk on his lips.

Roy looked down at the photo he had in his hand. He knew it was just a photo. A piece of paper that simply stopped time. A square shaped paper that, amazingly enough, could capture the fastest running ray of light and bring it to a stand still. He couldn't hand it over until he figured out why he had this paper in his grasp. It just didn't seem right.

"Well...could you help me with this picture friend?" Roy cautiously asked the bouncer.

"Sure! I'll help you with that picture...I'll help your stupid ass pin it back up there where it belongs, and after that, I'll help carry your hurtin' for certain carcass out of here." The bouncer shot back in a booming voice, that even shook up Roy just a bit, as he clamped down on Roys wrist with his other fleshy, vice grip like hand.

Roy's head went someplace he didn't expect it to and found himself sharply thrusting his palm into the underside of the bouncers chin as he pushed the bald head back and towards the floor. A split second later Roy found himself with his index and middle fingers jammed deep into the nostrils of the bouncer...right up to the middle knuckle.

"If you make another move, I'll twist these two fingers and break that nose right off your frickin' face!" Roy shouted at the watery eyed man who was lying on his back with his hands open, as if to signify that he was flying the white flag of truce.

Suddenly, everything went snowy white like a television station that just went off air. Roy felt a warm sensation on the back of his head, that was followed by a flash of light in the left eye. Roy knew this fight was over. He also knew that he had just taken a howitzer round in the eye socket...compliments of the bulldog that was now shoving a knee into his neck.

Roy was now on his back, looking up at the pretty little brunette bar maid that had helped them earlier. He knew, in that instant, that her busing tray was what had just walloped him in the back of the head. Drops of blood were flowing freely from the bouncers nose and dripping on Roys face, only to find refuge in his right ear hole. Roy now held up his hands and signaled his truce.

"Oh no you bastard...there's more payback coming your way. Here is the interest on the loan." the angry bulldog said through his clenched teeth as he cocked back for a good slam square into Roy's face.

"Damn...not again...maybe I can get the doc to set my nose straight this time around...this could be a good thing for me..." Roy flashed in his mind as he waited for the impending impact.

Roy closed his eyes because he didn't want to see this one coming. It was going to be one of those shots heard around Roy's world. He was certain this was going to be a "remember when" moment that he would never forget.

Roy drifted in his dazed and confused state. He heard the rhythm of train wheels crossing the gap between rail ends. He could feel the combination of adrenalin and fear he used to get as a kid, while laying on the ground, only a few feet away from the train tracks as the locomotives bulldozed by at high speed. He savored that thrill, but this time around he was laying right on the tracks and that bulldog express wasn't going to stop for anybody or anything.

Roy waited, but nothing happened. His senses started to come back and he realized that the train, he though he was hearing, was actually Hagred moving across the wood floor at flank speed. Hagred had mowed down the bulldog like a mack truck hitting a wooden road barrier at 70 miles per hour. Hagred was famous for taking out people from across the room. Sometimes he did it just for fun but, once the brother started the sprint, well, there wasn't much that could stop him. He just pushed threw folks like a big ass bowling ball that had been thrown down the alley by the great god Thor himself. Hagred didn't need to fight, he just threw his weight around...that was usually enough.

Roy rolled over on his side and could see Hagred sitting on top of the Bulldog, that apparently, wasn't moving all that much at the moment. Hagred was laughing hysterically and ranting something about how it was a really bad idea to pick on his friends.

Roy suddenly came to his senses right about the time he felt the picture getting snatched out of his hands. He rolled back over to see the waitress desperately trying to wipe off the blood that was on the picture before it soaked into the paper, causing permanent damage.

"What's wrong with you! This is the only picture of my father I have left and you almost destroyed it you moron!" the teary eyed waitress screamed at Roy.

Before Roy could get out another word, the petite little lady gave him a quick and sharp kick in the mouth with her riding boots.

"Maa'm! Maa'm! Stop! I'm looking for your dad...I think his bike is out front...Stop for Christ's sake...please!" Roy moaned, hoping that his words were understood by the angry woman. His bottom lip was completely numb and he wasn't sure if it was cooperating in his efforts to communicate.

"Outside? His bike?" she said excitedly as she tried to look through the walls of the bar in search of the bike.

"Well, it might be...could you somehow be able to tell?" Roy said as he slowly sat up and against the wall behind him. He still wasn't a hundred percent yet but at least he wasn't taking the blows anymore. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"You better not be screwin' with me...I swear I'll finish this, and if I can't...everyone else in this joint will help me...trust me on that one." the waitress said to Roy as she pointed a defiant index finger at him.

As she ran to the back, Roy looked over at Hagred. Hagred was sitting next to the bouncer and tapping him in the face in an attempt to wake him up. Roy could hear sirens coming from blocks away. He was just going to have to suck it up and take this one...."pfffftttt, whatever."

Back From The Ashes

2011-01-19T12:55:00.001-08:00

I was kinda' bummed about wrecking the heck out of Tramp a few weeks ago...but you know what? I have to say it's the best thing that has happened to me in a long time.

Why? I dunno, I just really enjoyed the crap out of tearing her down, then building her back up. (Some people like doing this to other people...we don't do that so that's why I have a bike.) I had a good time dealing with the carnage...even though it really wasn't all that bad in some aspects and worse than I thought in others. No real mechanical damage was done and the frame appears to be ok...Good news.

I quickly threw together some picts I took during the whole deal. Sorry, no accident picts...for some screwed up reason I didn't even think about it until I had the bike patched together for the ride home.

Well, it took a few days to get mounting brackets, crash bars, saddle bag supports, inner fairing and bars back to specs. I was actually able to make some improvements while I was at it. I love the ABS plastic and was able to scrub out most of the scratches. It also took a good hit without cracking or breaking...minus the inner fairing. With a little help from my friends and some dedicated effort on my part, I managed to do 4k+ of repair work for about $50 bucks.

While I was at it I serviced the forks and get my bars exactly where I wanted them. The only thing I had to buy was a left rear view mirror. I was able to delicately bend the clutch lever back without it breaking it. I returned the new clutch lever I bought. The bag supports that were ripped out were replaced from parts off another bike. The Harley Davidson emblem on the tank took a hit and broke...but it save my tank from getting dented or scratched.

The really cool part is...now I'm on my quest to murder out the bike. I hammered out the muffler tips back into shape and coated them with CAT exhaust stack paint. I'll let you know how that worked out. Yeah...there are a few scratches around but BFD. She looks good for an 08 with 50k on her. The brothers can't believe that it was ever in a wreck when they look at it now. Yeah, I'll say it..."I'm damned proud of myself."

If I wasn't bonded to this bike as of yet, I sure as hell am now. I'm happy to be alive and as thankful as a prospector who got a freebee at a cathouse. Riding a bike is SERIOUS BUSINESS folks...don't let anyone else tell you otherwise. Now, I have been here time and time again, in my 25+ years riding, and been laid up a-lot worse. Getting out of this without a scratch (minus pissing brown for a couple of days, which I thought might be kidney damage from getting thrown onto the concrete barrier like a spaghetti noodle...which cleared up on the third day.) has really made me realize how fortunate and blessed I am.

Thank you to all who offered their help and best thoughts. Thank you WillyD for being a true brother and helping with advice, parts and tools...I love you my brother. Thank you B.B. for understanding when I sat and worked on the bike most of the day on Christmas...not many women would understand that. I love you because you let me be just who I am...that was the best Christmas gift ever.

But...most of all; "Thank you God for giving me another day...I knew when I got bucked from the bike, just before I hit that wall, that I was going to be ok,...you made good on your promise and I take a knee before you. I don't know who, or what you are, and I don't believe what men or religions think they know about you, but this man has faith. I know I might not be the best man in most men's eyes, but I know you see my soul and my heart...that is why you keep me around. Thank you for that."

Oh yeah...I'll give you guys a hint if you ever have this happen to you....don't fix your inner fairing on your wife's best table cloth...yeah...heh.

I Cried Today

2011-01-18T14:14:00.001-08:00

I have been so happy about gettin' myself back up and running that I have not really been paying too much attention to the other bike bloggers out there. I missed something very important to me and I'm mad at myself.

Allen Madding put up a post regarding "Electra-Glide In Blue". If you have been following his blog hole you already know he has been scraping with cancer. He has lost that fight. I never met Jeff personally, but we had some stuff in common. He helped me earn my wings with info, emails and posts.

I would like to thank Allen for staying up on this...I had no idea. I went up to see his last post and after reading it I started to well up in the eyes. Yeah...I cried....doesn't happen often. Then it hit me that Jeff had impacted my life in some profound way. Jeff never served but he was a true patriot none the less. More of a patriot than most I know. More of a patriot than I.

This stuff happens but it certainly doesn't mean that you can dismiss it as such. I'm happy for Jeff because he has completed his mission...I weep for those he has left behind to complete theirs. As long as his blog hole is still up on the server, it will remain on my role.

Gone but not forgotten Jeff, "Ride In Peace Brother." - R.I.P.B. Your name has made the leather. Anyone who sees me is gonna' see you.

Dead Man Riding 7

2011-01-17T13:14:00.001-08:00

"Oh hell yeah! Now this is my kinda' place!" Hagred said in a satisfied tone.

Roy could definitely ditto Hagred's statement. Out of habit, the two surveyed the scene carefully. There are bars, and then there are heavenly havens. This place definitely fell into the haven catagory. It was a pretty big place for a hole in the wall joint. There was a ten by fifteen foot foyer with pictures plastered all over the walls. The pictures adorning the walls were of bikes, bikers and motomania related events.

Roy looked at some of the photographs. There were loads of smiles, leather, patches and bear hugs going on. Some of the pictures had comments scribbled on them about where and when they were snapped, while others had dates scribed that indicated the brother, or sister, had graduated from asphalt roads to ride the streets of gold.

"Roy! What the hell? let's go...this place is hoppin', you can look at all that shit later!" Hagred mumbled as he grabbed Roy's jacket sleeve and dragged him into the bar area.

"If you ever sell that bike Roy I'm gonna' kick your ass my brother. It knows how to pick a good run stop no doubt" Hagred said with a huge grin on his mug.

The bar looked like something that would be featured in some envy fueled cable show named "Lifestyles of the Barely makin' it and the Infamous." Everything was made of wood and the years of hard use could not be covered by the thick, golden spar shellac that obviously was applied at least once every year. Every table was unique because each had a history you could read. All the graffiti, hammered in bottle caps and stickers were preserved underneath the heavy coating of spar. A large back room had four pool tables and there were two bar areas on each side of the large dance floor that was in the main room. There was sawdust all over the floor to soak up whatever liquid happen to drop below pie-hole level. Off to the right was a jukebox and 6 electronic dart boards. There were a couple of big screens showing short movie and TV clips of motorcycle related propaganda and nostalgia.

There were all sorts of people in the place. Cowboys, bikers, regular joes and military personel...and lots of pretty ladies laughing it up and cashing in on free drinks that kept coming their way.

The place could easily support over a hundred and a half patrons. Above one bar was the Harley Davidson "Grey Fellow" and the other was crowned with an old Aerial, but what really had Hagred and Roy standing flat footed was the crown jewel of this fine establishment. They couldn't help but stand there in awe and slack jawed as the two beheld an eighteen foot Wonder Woman statue from the DC comic book character.

"I'm in love" Hagred said quietly with his mouth hanging wide open.

"Wonder Woman" stood there with her hands on her hips in a powerful stance and sporting a seductive smile. Hagred walked in between her legs and looked up.

"Bro...you were talking about entering the twilight zone earlier...now I can say I'm right there with yah' at the moment. Wholly cow....look at the size of her headlights!" Hagred panted.

Roy reached over that lightly slapped Hagred in the back of the head and said, "Damn Hag, don't you think of anything else?"

"Have you seen anything like this before? Cut me some slack...I wonder how much they would sell this for?" Hagred said with a serious look on his face.

Roy was trying to come up with a smart assed comment, but he was interrupted by "I can tell your friend likes the scenery from down here."

Roy turned his head and looked over his shoulder to see the bar waitress smiling at him.

"Can I get you boys a something to wet your whistle today?" she smiled.

Roy's pupils expanded quickly. This usually happened to him when he saw something he liked.

"Damn...the scenery just keeps getting better." Roy thought to himself.

"Yes maa'm! Two jack and cokes would really go down well right about now...what is your name pretty lady?" Hagred interrupted with pupils as big as Roy's were at the moment.

The pretty thirty-something brunette winked at Hagred as she turned around started to pick up some empty glasses on the table next to them and placed them smartly on her busing tray. Then she started walking towards the bar, but only after she looked over her shoulder and said to Hagred, "Continue to call me maa'm for now...if you want my name, you'll have to hang around for awhile. No one gets my name on the first date sweetie."

The two men sat at the table that the 'breath of fresh air' had just cleared.

For over an hour they sat and nursed a couple of 5150's. There was alot going on and one of Roy's favorite past times was to sit and people watch. Hagred hated this about Roy because Roy would just sit there quietly and observe. Hagred enjoyed talking but Roy, he enjoyed picking apart the mannerisms of people and loved to sit and try to figure out what their story was. If he felt like he had nailed someone's story, he would strike up a conversation with them just to find out if he was right. Eighty percent of the time he would be pretty damned close. Roy had many, many friends all over because of his annoying bar habits.

Roy and Hagred were feeling pretty good at the moment. Roy couldn't really feel any of the aches and pains from the accident anymore. His blood was warm and his scalp was tingling from the buzz Mr. Jack Daniels had graced him with. He was intrigued by this place. Roy always had a dream of owning his own bar and this place was as close to what he had envisioned as you could get.

Roy got up from the table and told Hagred he was going to look around some more. Hagred headed over to the dart boards. He figured that a game of darts might just make him some road dime.

Roy found himself back in the Foyer looking at all the pictures. It was like looking back in history. He even managed to find a couple of friends amongst the collage.

"Those bastards have been holding out on me...he'h...I need to get my pict posted up here so they can feel like crap for keeping this place a secret." Roy thought to himself.

Suddenly something profound caught Roy's eye. He just caught a brief glance so he shot his eyes over to the area of the wall to take a good look.

"Man, I must be getting old as dirt...I know I saw something but I just don't know what I'm looking for...where is it...how am I suppose to find it if I don't even know what I was looking at for shits sake! I hate it when I do this..." Roy cussed under his breath.

Then he saw it. His face flushed with excitement and he heard "Wholly crap" spill from his lips without even thinking about it.

Roy stood there dumb founded as he looked at the picture, that was almost buried, underneath all the others that were tacked over it. He stood there as he closely examined the picture of a stranger sitting on a VStar. A VStar that was almost identical to the one Roy had hitched out front.

"Son of a bitch! I'm feeling like I have lost my sanity now. I guess I'm not playing along anymore because I actually believe all of this without a any reservations now." Roy defeatedly admitted to himself.

He had finally come to terms with his involuntary charge. Roy carefully took down the picture as he looked around cautiously for whistle blowers. He figured no one would miss it and he just couldn't leave it there. He would return it after he figured out what to do with it.

Dead Man Riding 6

2011-01-09T19:44:00.001-08:00

Hagred drifted back to the house before Roy had finished packing his gear. He looked much more content than he did just a short 30 minutes before.

"Are you ready you sorry bastard?" Hagred shouted out with all teeth showing as he smiled.

"Yup!...that was no time at all...are you sure you didn't forget anything?" Roy said as he cinched up his last tie strap.

"Pffftttttt....what do I really need. I have gas money and this is all I need." Hagred answered back as he proudly held up a carton of cigarettes and a can of instant coffee.

"Brother, I wonder if your elevator goes to the top, but alright...I worry about you sometimes." Roy smirked as he slowly shook his head.

The two men mounted up and gave each other a satisfied glance. They were really stoked about getting back out on the road. Neither one had any idea as to the what, where and who they were heading off too, but that is why the both of them were so jazzed about this run. It was what every hardcore motorhead longed for.  A longing for the unexpected, and the uncertainty, that drives this breed to hang around for another day.

"You are taking the lead...I'm not having your god forsaken ass riding behind me." Hagred yelled over the deep rumble of the two v-twins.

Roy just chuckled and then nodded at Hagred, as he slowly dropped the pressure plate on the clutch discs and engaged the VStar power plant to the transmission.

Everything was going as smooth as could be for the two as they entered the freeway. The sun was out and the temps were in the 70's. The wind was running it's wispy fingers through the riders hair and caressing the grizzled face of two. It was almost like poor man's plastic surgery because all the worry lines and cuts made by a harder life appeared to just disappear.

Although both men were on high alert, as a result of Roy's crack up, they could not resist putting on a show as they ripped down the freeway in bar to bar formation. You wouldn't think much of either of these two men as you passed them on a street sidewalk, but witnessing the two on their motorbikes riding side by side in outlaw formation somehow transformed them into a romantic, defiant symbol of freedom. Roy and Hagred knew they were getting laughed at, and could almost hear the nasty comments that must be bouncing off the insides of the four wheeled cages, as they flew by like two F-18 fighter jets, but that didn't matter to them. They were just doing what they were meant to do.  Roy and Hagred knew that deep down, most men would fork over a good sum of money just to taste the life they had going for them. The price of a new Harley was enough proof to support that theory. Roy and Hagred didn't really give a shit about posers because in thier book, no dude on two wheels was a poser, besides...It gave them a chance to pick up barely used bikes that only had a couple of thousand miles on them for a steal.

Roy thought about how he became obsessed with the motorbike culture as they approached the spot where he had just dumped the VStar earlier. He lamented as he remembered childhood memories of his best friend Nick. Roy used to love to go over to Nick's house, and in particular, Nick's dad's garage. He always was working on a bike and Roy used to love to sit there and watch. He enjoyed listening as Nick's dad cussed out bad wrenches and parts that were "not made like they used to make 'em."  Most treasured where the stories they were told of the good old days of riding a motorbike and all the wild parties. The old wooden garage walls were plastered with maps of roads, photos of the brothers and posters of topless women. Roy was fond of a topless brunette, who was wearing tube socks, cut off jean shorts with rainbow suspenders. She had grease on her face and breasts, along with sweet drops of sweat, as a result of her working on a Crocker, that was there in the background somewhere. It was his favorite memory of that garage and his all time favorite centerfold. Nick's dad was always forward and always spoke the truth to Nick and Roy. Roy admired Nick's dad. Sure Nick's dad had a bad reputation in the neighborhood because he just told it just the way it was, nothing less and nothing more, and that somehow made people uneasy around him. However, whenever the shit came down, Nick's dad was the man that everyone went to. Roy wanted to be that man when he grew up.

Then it hit Roy, "I am that man...it sure isn't at all as glamorous as I thought it would be, but it has been damned satisfying. Thank you Nick's dad for being a straight shooter...you weren't blowing smoke and thank you for the greasy brunette...you have no idea as to how many times I've rubbed one out thinking about her."

Roy was interrupted as he saw Hagred point to the off ramp of doom. Roy dropped the throttle and coasted to the side of the road. Hagred pulled in behind him and then rolled slowly up next to the VStar.

"What are we doing now?" Roy yelled over at Hagred.

"I thought you knew yah dillweed!....take that off ramp again and see what happens!" Hagred shouted back.

"I hate you brother...you have some really screwed up ideas of how to solve a problem but what the hell....I'll just take it really slow this time. Tell my lady I love her if I don't make it." Roy laughed back.

"Shut up dickhead...you are gonna be fine." Hagred said as he pointed to the off ramp.

Roy waited for a half mile gap in the traffic, then popped the clutch and headed towards the off ramp. He slowly took it at 15 mph. As he came to the curve the bike did exactly the same thing as it did earlier. Roy could feel the bike fighting him.

"Ok! I'm officially in the fucking twilight zone! This is too much supernatural for me and I'm a realist...so I'm now officially punked out. I don't know whether to shit or go blind." Roy thought to himself as he let off the throttle and slowly coasted off the road and to a stop.

Hagred rolled up and stopped beside him then said, "I saw that whole deal! You're a dumbass bro! That took balls....I wouldn't have done that again in a million years and not for a million bucks! I can't believe you actually went through with it. I was just pulling your leg man!"

Roy just dropped his head because he was pissed off now. He could feel the heat radiating off his face and all he wanted to do was fire off one round, with his knuckles, right into Hagred's face. Roy clenched up a fist but then laughed out loud. He dropped all the anger because Hagred was just being Hagred, and that is exactly why Roy loved the dude.

Roy looked back up at Hagred and calmly said, "What now?"

Hagred got off his old, dark plum, Shovel-Head and said, "Turn it around. Wez' is getting back on the freeway."

Roy scratched his head and said, "Yeah, you're right. I'm gonna' let this bike take me to wherever it is that we are suppose to go."

Roy and Hagred pushed the bike back towards the freeway. They didn't want to take any chances because they had both just been given the proof they needed that something bigger than the both of them was in charge at the moment. There was no sense in killin' a good run with another accident.

Soon enough they were on the freeway again and heading away from the off ramp of doom. Roy motioned Hagred to break off and stay well behind him because he didn't know exactly what the bike was going to do. As they rode along Roy was scared straight and victoriously thrilled at the same time. It was almost as exciting as seeing how far you would ride on reserve, without running out of fuel, before the next petrol dump. Roy loved pushing things. It might be stupid in someone else's eyes but everything Roy did in his life was some sort of challenge. If something wasn't a challenge in his life, then he would come up with some creative way to make it a challenge. There was something wrong if everything went as planned in Roy's mind.

They rode down the black top for an hour. Roy was very light on the bars and the bike let him have control the entire way. As they came to the 101/680 interchange Roy felt the bike slightly lean to the right. Roy would probably not have even noticed the subtle hint by the VStar if he wasn't paying close attention to the feel of the bike. He was razor sharp right now and anything the bike did, Roy sure as hell was going to notice.

Fear struck Roy when he realized that he was going to have to take this off ramp. There were cagers everywhere and if the VStar didn't go along with the program this time, well, it was going to be the last off ramp of Roy's life.

"Trust the bike....trust the bike Roy, just trust the damned bike!" Roy said over and over in his head as he let his mechanical partner lead the dance on the floor of asphalt.

As the two riders took the off ramp, Roy noticed that Hagred had backed way off.

"I don't blame you brother...not one bit." Roy laughed in his head.

As Roy leaned the bike to take the curve of the off ramp his hairs stood on end and he got an excited itch all down the back of his neck. As he pushed on the right grip and leaned the bike, it suddenly,.... did exactly what he wanted it to do. All the build up, anticipation and fear melted like snow under a blowtorch. Roy knew he could now trust the bike, as long as the bike trusted him, then he was going to be alright. The bond was made and two separate entities became one.

Roy looked back in the rear view mirror and could see Hagred throwing a victorious fist in the air. He was just as thrilled and relieved that Roy had made the off ramp. Now the two could really get into the spirit of the run.

They rode for another hour and the VStar coaxed the two to a bar named "Whiskey Creek Bar and Grill."

"Uhhhh...I love your bike Roy! Now that is my kind of bike!" Hagred boisterously yelled out as they shut down in front of the bar.

"Figures Hag...Now is this stop for us or for the bike?" Roy said as he hopped off the VStar.

"Who cares brother! Maybe it was for all of us...shit, I wish my Shovel Head would talk to me like that VStar talks to you...well, I mean Sadie does talk to me but I can shut her up anytime I want. That VStar is a real bitch and you are "V-Whipped" for sure!" Hagred blurted out as they walked into the front door of the bar.

"V-Whipped? Hagred, you are one screwed up dude...where do you come up with this shit?" Roy smiled back at Hagred.

"I dunno....but it only happens when I'm around you. You give me lots of material to work with because you live a disastrously charmed life my friend. Being around you is never boring...but you know what?"

"What." Roy replied with a smirk on his face.

"You are boring the shit out of me right now though...let's get a good spot at the bar and then maybe I'll find you exciting again." Hagred laughed as he grabbed Roy by the back of the neck and pushed him into the packed watering hole.

Dead Man Riding 5

2010-12-28T17:45:00.001-08:00

Just about the time Roy had finished cleaning himself up, he heard the VStar fire up outside. He stopped and listened carefully to the idle.

"Yup...Hagred has done his magic again." Roy thought to himself as he walked back out to the garage.

Hagred was standing next to the bike, with one ear pointed towards the vtwin power plant, cranking on the throttle.

"Good throttle response!" Hagred yelled over the whining engine.

"What was the deal bro?" Roy asked

"What do you mean what's the deal Einstien...you wrecked the bike jackass!" Hagred laughed out loud.

Hagred had a natural ability to recognize the obvious. It was a trait that Roy appreciated because he tended to analyze things to the extreme. Hagred offset this and between the two of them they could resolve any situation or conflict.

"Alright, alright Roy...the airbox was blocked with mud and the battery terminal came loose. I just stripped the positive battery wire and cinched it down. It will work for now but.........what the hell is that?" Hagred said as he looked down at the seat which was lying on the driveway.

Roy and Hagred looked down at the saddle. There was a brown envelope, wrapped in plastic, taped to the underside of the seat. Roy reached down and tore the package away from it's hiding place.

"Open it! Open it! Hell, there could be a million dollar check, or a wad of cash in there!" Hagred excited panted.

Roy looked carefully at the package. From the dust and road grime on it, it must have been there a long time. Small pin-holes were in the plastic as a result of long time vibrations and small water spots were on the envelope.

"Probably the owner's manual you turd. Who hides cash under the seat of a bike." Roy smirked as he winked at Hagred.

Roy carefully peeled the duct tape from the worn, plastic coffin and pulled out the brown envelope. It felt like a pamphlet of some sort was inside as he opened up the end. Roy shook the contents free from the open end and a handwritten journal slid into his palm.

"Fuck!....figures there would be no joy called out on this discovery! If there was any money in there it probably was going to be a damned credit card." Hagred mumbled.

Roy opened the journal. There were detailed accounts of roads, adventures, thoughts and dollar amounts scribed within. Roy flipped through the pages and soon realized that the guy who had written the journal wasn't going to make a career as an artist, but he was a great writer and had an eye for details. Near the end of the journal there was a yellow post-it used as a book mark. Roy flipped to the book marked section and read the entry.

After reading the entry Roy was silent. He stood there looking down at his boots while he itched his bottom lip with his top row of teeth. Roy's straight, shoulder length, sandy brown hair was blocking Hagred's view of Roy's face so he couldn't tell what the deal was, or what Roy was thinking at the moment.

After a few minutes Roy looked up at Hagred and said the following as he handed the journal to Hagred; "You are spot on brother...this bike needs to go someplace, but I have no idea as to where, or to whom."

After Hagred read the entry in the journal, he shook his head and then nodded as he looked at Roy.

"Well...this has not changed my plans for you at all. All it did was validate what I was thinkin' here. Let's get on this road trip and find out what the hell we are suppose to find out. I'll follow you in the Jeep with the trailer just in case the damned road gremlins get us."

"Right now!" Roy spoke loudly with concern.

"Yeah brother...what the hell else are you doing right now? You don't have work until next week and I don't even have a official job at the moment. Why not? Look at it as an opportunity to get that roadtrip in that we have been plotting for a couple of months now." Hagred cheerfully spoke.

"You know what?" Hagred interrupted himself, "Fuck that!...I'm going to the crib and I'm going to saddle up Sadie. She has been itching to get out. The gremlins can kiss my ass right now. I wanna' ride this one...besides...I'll just be pissed the whole way if you are tearin' it up on two while I'm stuck on four."

Roy tossed Hagred's keys back to him and told him to hurry up. Roy's gut hurt and it felt like he had been kicked by a mule, but he knew he had to do this. He was certain he had somehow been chosen for whatever it was that he was suppose to complete for whoever, or whatever.

Hagred moved almost in a skipping shuffle as he hopped into the Jeep.

"Hurry up and get whatever you need for the run. Hopefully we will be gone awhile!" Hagred shouted as he backed out of the driveway.

"What da' fuck ever. I'm insane or have been hanging around that dude way too long....but, I guess this is the kind of thing a guy like me lives for. Yup, unfortunately...this is what a guy like me lives for and it's damned annoying sometimes. I hope it's worth the effort." Roy thought to himself as he shut down the still running VStar.

Roy walked back into the house and started packing his minimal configuration for road whoredome. He was actually terrified and exhilarated. It was a combination that Roy savored. It was the pinch that told him he was indeed still alive.

Tramp Down, Dumbass Up

2010-12-21T19:22:00.001-08:00

My sons birthday was this last weekend. He turned 17 and I really wanted to hang out with him on his special day. I promised him I would make the 400 mile trip to Southern CA and I was hellbent on keeping that promise. The forecast for CA has been tropical storm status since Thursday of last week. I knew it was going to be a wet ride, and since I don't have a car to drive right now, there wasn't much choice in my mind. I have weathered snow, hail, rain, sandstorms and dirt devils. Rain isn't a ride stopper and it doesn't really bother me.

Friday I geared up and headed out. The first 30 minutes was cloudy and 58 degrees, but after that it rained almost every minute the rest of the 350 miles to southern CA via 101. It was a good ride and even though I have no rain gear, the leather kept me pretty comfortable. I even stopped to help a young couple, who were stranded on the side of the freeway, get their car running. The trip down was cold and wet but satisfying.

I had a great couple of days with my Son. It was something I personally needed and it was worth the wet ride down. Even though it rained the entire time I was there, we managed to have a rippin' time together.

Monday came too soon and it was time to leave. I always dread that saying goodbye thing. It leaves a empty hole that takes a long time to get over. It was pouring in San Diego County. I figured that ride back to Monterey County was going to be just as wet as the ride down so I geared up. I threw on layers of crap and I even threw the chaps on. I don't like chaps and very rarely will put them on, but I did this time around.

I took off and rode through very heavy rain. Even I was thinking that this was a stupid thing to be doing but regardless, I did it. I have never seen rain like this, ever, in Southern CA. It was coming down so hard that cars on the other side of the freeway were throwing water over the center divide and into my face. Every few minutes I would catch a brisk wave and giggle. (Yes, I actually was having a good time. Why make yourself miserable by thinking about how miserable you are. It does nothing and once you wrap your head around it you actually enjoy it.)

I was doing fine once I reached the 405. The 405 was flooding so things slowed down to 30 mph. Two kids, in the back of an SUV, were laughing at me because there was so much water on the roadway that I would put my feet down and pretend I was water skiing. The Dad stayed just behind me so the kids could watch. I was splashing up so much water that it was hitting the SUV in the windshield.

I jumped onto North 101. Then it really started pouring. (I honestly didn't think that it could get any worse.) I decided to pull over because it was too dangerous now...even for my taste. Trying to be responsible I took the Ventura Blvd./ Calabasas Parkway off ramp, around Malibu, to rest and wait until the heavy rain had passed. I'm not a complete dumbass people.

The off ramp has a long straight section then makes a 90 degree right-hand bend. I slowed down to a slower speed than I thought I needed, which was around 30 mph. As I leaned the bike the rear slid out, so I instantly straighten the bike to regain traction and made damned sure that I didn't touch the brakes. I regained traction and slightly leaned again in a second attempt. The bike once again slid out. So I straightened up to regain traction. At this point there were no other cars around except for a compact cager, about 8 car lengths, behind me. On my third attempt I realized that I was going to hit the cement retaining wall and that there was no chance of coming out of this. All I could think was "This is it...I'm going down....shit."

Rather than let the bike hit three-quarter and risk getting pinned between the wall and the 900 pound bike, I locked up the rear and let it slide parallel to the wall, then tried to low side the bike. I did this just a little too well because as I was going to slide off the bike the rear wheel caught the wall first and the bike catapulted me over the top. I flew through the air upside down and hit the concrete retaining wall flat on my back. The back of my head whip lashed into the man made rock. The bike tank slapped on the left side as I slid off the wall and back into the roadway. The next thing I know, I'm on my knees next to my bike laying on it. The guy in the cage behind me is already standing over me asking me if I'm ok and yelling about how he can't believe what he had just seen and how he couldn't believe I hung on and kept the bike up for so long. (I appreciated that he noticed my efforts!) He told me he thought I was going to make it initially, but then said he knew I was goner for sure as I hit the wall.

Here is what he said later to the paramedics; "I thought this guy was dead. When it hit the wall, the bike flipped him like a slingshot into the cement, upside down and I saw his head bounce. Then he looked like a rag doll as he slid down the roadway. I got out of the car and started to run to him. By the time I got halfway to him, he stood up and walked to his bike and knelt down next to it and passed out for a few more seconds. Then he looked up at me and asked if he was ok."

I came up with my cheesy diagram of the actual off ramp I swooped off of Mapquest. The green lines show traction and the red lines show loss of traction. The little stick figure is me rag-dollin' it.

Now, I don't remember standing up, or kneeling next to my injured steel pony but I do remember asking the guy if I was ok and I remember trying to get air because I had had the wind knocked right out of me. After that I remembered everything. The dude that was behind me helped me pick up the bike and we pushed it on the inside of the curve, just in case anyone else slid out of control. He had already called for emergency help and I could hear the sirens coming down the road. Once they arrived they tried to put me on a stretcher but I wouldn't have any of that. The CHP called a tow truck...I wasn't going to have any of that either and told him to cancel the call. He told me that I couldn't ride the bike because it looked jacked. Yup', you guessed it...I wasn't going to have any of that either so I kicked it into neutral and it started. Another CHP that had arrived told the younger CHP to let me get ride the bike to the gas station on the corner of Ventura and Calabasas. They blocked the road so I didn't have to worry about getting hit and I managed to get the bike to the Chevron.

Everyone wished me luck and took off. The Older CHP rider stuck around and talked about his Harley for awhile as I chain smoked. We swapped some good stories and actually had a good time talking. He then told me that twice, earlier that day, two cars had hit the cement barrier. Somehow this put me at ease and I wasn't so mad at myself. I had to thank this Chippee because he got everyone else off my back. After he had left, I limped over to where I had hit the wall and started collecting parts.

I was still running off the adrenaline I guess because I didn't feel much pain at that point. The inside fairing was broken, the outside batwing fairing was half hanging off and tore up, the clutch lever was now a half circle, the left saddle bag was broken off and the bag support bent, both mufflers had taken some damage, the left mirror was gone and ripped right out of the fairing mounts, the bars were bent on the left side, the rear peg and the crash bar had saved the engine and tank. (If you don't have a crash bar go get one. Screw not liking the way it looks...get over it.)

I had spare hardware from mods and stuff I keep with the bike, along with some epoxy paste, bailing wire and other odds and ends because somehow, I knew this day would come. I spent the next two hours taking Tramp apart and looking at the damage. I borrowed a mop handle from the clerk inside the station and bent stuff back into place. I managed to get everything rigged good enough to make Tramp road worthy again and headed back out on the road.

The heavy rain had stopped by then and I have to admit that I was feeling really good about getting back on the road. I can't explain to all of you as to exactly why I was happy being back on the road. I felt like I had somehow beat fate once again. I was so high and stoked about riding, after all that had happened to me earlier and honestly, I needed to get right back on for some reason.

I rode out the remaining 300 miles stopping frequently and the closer I got to home, the more I realized how badly I was hurting. I stopped at a 76 station outside of Santa Barbara and talked to a dude named Ken. I stop to see him every time I take this route back. As soon as I walked in he said, "What the hell happened to you!" I just laughed and asked him it was that obvious. He said it was pretty obvious and pointed to my jacket. My leather jacket had road rash all down the left shoulder and sleeve. All I could do is laugh because I didn't even realize that my leather jacket was another casualty that needed to be added to the list. Thank God for leather...a biker's best friend.

Around midnight I rolled into home. B.B. heard the bike and had the garage door already open for me. As I pulled into the garage she just shook her head and then ran up to give me a hug. Then she yelled at me and told me how pissed off she was at me and how if I ever did this again, that she would kill me herself if I survived. Right about then I noticed the screw that was sticking out of my rear tire...no shit.

Now here is the thing that is freaking me out a bit. You know that story I have been writing? Uh, yeah...Read the part 2 again, that I wrote a couple of weeks ago, and tell me there are not striking similarities. It is really messing with my head. Some of the brothers are telling me that I wrote my own destiny of sorts. I don't know about that but I'm not sure if I want to finish the story now! WillyD thinks I should finish the story with the insurance company paying for everything with no deductible. Even though they might cover most of the damage I don't think I'm going that route. I think I'm going to just patch tramp to functional health and leave the battle scars.

I live a truly charmed life even though some of you might not see it that way. Life is what you make of it and I love my life. I thought about something as I rode home. Alot of people cry and say "Why me?" I thought about that and decided that I would live the "Why Not Me" philosophy. I came to the conclusion that we all have horrible things happen to us and our loved ones. None of us are immune. The whole "Why Not Me" can also be applied to the good things that happen in life as well. From now on, there is no "Why Me?" ever again.

Good or bad, it's always going to be a "Why Not Me?" attitude from this day forth. It's a good way to look at the world in my opinion. Deal with what comes and you will always be victorious. Take your chances and you will never regret it. The "Why Not Me" attitude says; "I'm no better than anyone else so bad things are expected. It also says that no one else is better than I, so good things are expected as well."

You know what? I'm pretty satisfied with my reaction. I didn't panic and right up until I was thrown from the bike I kept my head. I think I did everything I could and usually I'm not that easy on myself. I usually play arm chair quarterback afterwards and analyze...just don't feel the need to do that this time though. Hmmm......

Rat? You are so right brother...walking away is always good. I thought about that comment moments after I realized that I was ok. You must have seen it too.

Dead Man Riding 4

2010-12-14T15:26:00.001-08:00

No matter how bad things could possibly go on any given day, a can of suds and a fat, juicy burger somehow could always set things right. It was the magical remedy for all things gone haywire.

Hagred piped up, "Why do we eat this crap! This is like playing Russian roulette or something. I never know if I'm going wind up with a bad case of 'Rocky Mountain Quick-Step'. Do you remember the last time we ate a bad burger?."

"Why dude! Why? You are gonna' hex my tastebud trip!... heh, that was a bad day alright. I tensed my ass cheeks up so tight, trying to make the next gas station, that I pulled my back and ass muscles. I was sore for almost a week. There's something about the combo of onion rings a a Super Star that always gives me explosive gut rot, not to mention the shits...but it tastes so damned good going down!. " Roy laughed .

Roy and Hagred slammed their beer cans together in a toast. This toast was customary between the two. It was the pact made, and the agreement, that they both would do what they felt like doing, when they felt like doing it. It was true that both men fully knew that there were other controlling forces in the world, but whenever there was a remote possibility to pull off a good escape, they both agreed to run for the fence.

"Let's get that sick bike into the garage so we can get her running again", Hagred said, as he wiped his hands on his jeans and swallowed the last bit of his edible roulette wheel.

Hagred had cleaned up the VStar well enough to start working on whatever was keeping the bike from waking up from it's mechanical comma.

Roy opened the garage door and flipped on the light switch. He looked up at the 150 watt bulb that was burning right into his retina. He walked over to the VStar and kicked the shift lever into neutral as he pushed the bike into the garage.

"I thought you fixed that bulb you dumbass." Hagred said in passing.

Roy looked up at the bulb and it was now asleep again.

"What the fuck is going on here...I swear that light was on when I pushed the bike in." Roy quietly said as he looked up at the frosted bulb.

Hagred walked over to the bike and sat down in the saddle as he began to push the bike back out of the garage. Roy watched him as he tried to figure out the purpose of his friends indecisiveness. Hagred stopped backing out the bike six feet away from the garage door, then pointed to the bulb on the ceiling of the garage.

Roy looked up in amazement as he witnessed the bulb burning full bore. Hagred quickly got off the bike and frantically searched his pockets for a smoke. Roy slowly reached into his front pocket and pulled out a cigarette and handed to Hagred. Hagred lit up the cigarette and then handed the lighter to Roy, who lit up the other smoke he had retrieved from the pack.

As Roy handed back Hagred his lighter, he could tell that Hagred was spooked. Now, Roy had seen his brother cry, scream, laugh, vomit, along with a whole bunch of other tell tale signs of emotional distress, but he had never seen the wild-eyed, curious fear that he was seeing in Hagred's face.

"Push the bike back into the garage...just do it Roy." Hagred said, as if he was a mad scientist on the verge of making some horrific discovery.

As Roy pushed the bike into the garage the bulb on the ceiling went black again. Wicked chills ran like wildfire up and down Roy's spine.

Hagred started jumping up and down in the driveway like some kid who had just found an electric guitar underneath his Christmas tree.

"Holy shit Roy! You guys all give me a ration of shit because of the crap I talk about. I told you! I told you! And all of you just thought my brain was tweaked from droppin' black meds. Nope! I've been clean for years and I know I'm seeing this. You are seeing this! You are seeing this Roy....right!" Hagred shouted excitedly as he quickly paced around Roy and the bike.

"Dude! Your freakin' me out! Shut the hell up...there has to be an explanation for this." Roy said nervously.

Hagred ran over to the bulb and attempted to tighten it. It was as tight as it could be set. Then he unscrewed the bulb and looked it over. There was no sign of defect from what he could tell. Excitedly he screwed the bulb back into the socket and pushed Roy out of the way as he pushed the bike back out of the garage. Sure enough, the phantom light lit up, destroying the shadows of the garage once more.

"This can't be happening....there is just no way. This screws with everything I know to be true Hagred, this screws with everything." Roy said in disbelief.

Hagred grinned with a crazy look in his eyes and shouted excitedly, "I have been seeing shit like this my whole life. I'm just glad someone else can see it with me. This is amazing because I know I'm not fucking crazy! This is awesome bro! Either that or you are just as cracked as I am....it don't matter though because I'm not alone anymore!"

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up! I need to sort all this out...you are freaking me out as usual and if you are fucking with me Hagred, I swear......what the hell are you doing now?" Roy shouted at his friend.

Hagred was already on his back checking out every inch of the VStar. He was looking for something. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew he was suppose to be looking for something. Roy just stood there watching his friend act like a bloodhound that was on the trail of a name taken from the FBI's most wanted list.

"This bike has been rebuilt! It was a total Roy and look, the VIN number don't match. This is a different engine....c'mon over here and look at this." Hagred said excitedly.

Roy walked over and aimed down on the spot where Hagred's meaty index finger was pointing to. There was large area of the frame that was chewed up by the teeth of the merciless asphalt at one time or another. Whoever fixed the bike back up must have figured that no one would find these clues as to the bike's past.

Hagred lit up another smoke and leaned both of his elbows on the top rail of his trailer. He looked over at Roy and then back down at the cigarette that was perched between his fingers. He took a deep breath and exhaled as he turned to Roy again.

Hagred began to speak to Roy in a serious tone, a tone that had never been heard from him, not by any of his friends anyway. Suddenly the goofy, comical, superficial man became a dead serious prophet of sorts. Roy suddenly would take everything that Hagred said as law and commandment.

"Roy. I'm going to tell you some crazy ass shit that is going to make your head spin. I know you are going to think I'm nuts, and I might well be, but hear me out on this one. You need to take this bike back." Hagred said in a serious tone, as serious as if he had pushed a .44 in Roy's face.

"The shop won't take the bike back now you frickin' idiot!" Roy shouted out.

"The damned shop is not where you need to return it. You need to take it back to the rightful owner Roy. The DMV and the registration says you are the rightful owner right now but that just ain't the case. This bike belong's to someone else. Tell me what happened before you cracked up earlier today." Hagred calmly said to Roy.

"Hagred, you are so full of shit that your eyes are turning brown. I can't believe I'm going to do this but ok..here is what happened..." Roy spoke as he surrendered.

Roy told Hagred of the happenings surrounding the bike. Hagred sat and listened wide eyed like an eighteen year old virgin who was hearing his first round of sensual trash talk from the mouth of a high school cheerleader. After Roy was done telling the story Hagred knew what had to be done, and he knew his brother wasn't going to like it one bit either.

Hagred looked at Roy and spoke; "Brother Roy...you have to get back on that bike. The bike is trying to talk to you and you are not listening. This is why people don't see what I see most of the time. They are always looking for a way to explain away. Do you remember riding to Sturgis in 07? Remember all the untraveled backroads we took and all the shit that we saw along the way? We took the road less traveled to see what most people will never see, and in our own way we blazed our own trail, but there were times that we needed to get on the interstate just long enough to find another road less traveled because it was the only way to do just what we wanted to do. Trust me on this one."

"Hagred...you are talking nonsense here. I don't get what you are saying right now, and it's just damned annoying because you just can't seem to keep things lined up properly sometimes. What the fuck are you talking about?" Roy sneered.

"What I'm saying here is that no matter how independent, no matter how free spirited you are, no matter how bad-ass you think you are...there are times when you need to follow the path of least resistance to get what you want out of life. Just like those side roads we traveled. No matter how hard we tried to avoid the busy highways, in order to get where we wanted to go, we had to hit the interstates sometimes. We had to give up our own desires and go with the flow until we could find that off ramp that would let you and I continue on our adventure. Was that clear enough for you asshole?" Hagred smiled as he started to take off the seat of the VStar.

"So you are telling me I'm going to have to put my faith in something I don't even understand. What you are really telling me is I'm going to have to give up control here and just roll with it." Roy sighed.

Hagred laughed out loud and slapped his friend on the shoulder, "That's right buddy. You better go inside and patch up some of that gravel dig in your hide. You are bleeding through your clothes. You are gonna have to get back on this bike if you want to break it's spirit."

Roy walked into the bathroom of the house. As he washed out the dirt from his wounds he started singing an old song that always made him feel better when he was upset or nervous about something.

"I don't wanna pickle, jus' wanna' ride my motor-sickle. I don't wanna' tickle, jus' wanna' ride on my motor-sickle. I don't wanna' die, just wanna ride my motorcyc...le"

Dead Man Riding 3

2010-12-08T21:50:00.001-08:00

"This isn't my idea of a good time. I hope no one sees me riding with you like this." Roy laughed nervously as he looked over at Hagred, who was trying hold back fits of laughter, as he drove.

Hagred was a big, jolly kind of guy. Roy was 5'10 and Hagred's eyeballs could look over the top of Roy's head while he was standing flat footed. Hagred had a big, full bushy beard and shoulder length black hair. He looked like a 70's rockstar without all the money. People constantly mistook him for Daryll "Dimebag" Abbot of Pantera. Hagred must have weighed in at 290 but he didn't look fat. He was just a big dude that had the heart of a child, but could tear shit up like a hurricane if made angry. Hagred was one of the last true friends left around. His full time job was helping folks out and he was loved by more people than Oprah.

"Shit Roy, I've seen you in much worse condition. Just because you are sitting next to me, in just your boxers, doesn't reflect on me at all...I'm not the crazy son of a bitch in this cage right now. I'm not the one who looks like they shit themselves!" Hagred roared with laughter over the loud engine of the vintage CJ5 that was towing the trailer with the crippled VStar riding bitch behind.

"Fuck you Hagred....seriously....that's mud that soaked through my jeans and it's not shit stains. If you weren't such a twat about getting mud on your new sheepskin seat covers, that you got at the Goodwill, then I wouldn't have had to strip my damned clothes off! This jeep is filthy! I don't get it...since when did you become a clean freak?" Roy barked over the rumbling road noise.

"Bwahahahahahaha! You know what Roy? I could give two shits about these seat covers. I just wanted to see you strip down on the side of the freeway so I could get a good laugh yah' dipshit! Whewwwwwww! I know I owe you one after this!" Hagred hysterically laughed as he wiped the tears of uncontrolled chuckles from his eyes.

Roy started to punch Hagred in the arm as he laughed along with his brother. The two laughed for the next ten miles. Every few minutes they would stop long enough to breath and gain composure, but it would give way, like a weak levee, and the good time would flood the cage all over again.

The two men finally made it to Roy's house. They hopped out of the Jeep and walked around to the trailer. The VStar was caked with mud and grass. There didn't seem to be any major damage to the bike. The crash bars appeared to take most of the damage and saved the casing on the engine nicely.

Roy carried his muddy boots and clothes into the garage as Hagred grabbed the hose and started to spray off the muddy carnage from the VStar. Roy re-appeared soon enough wearing a "Grand Funk Railroad" T-shirt and rumpled jeans.

"Whoa! Roy,...I could have sworn the damage to this pony was going to be way more extensive than what I'm looking at right now!" Hagred said as if he couldn't believe his own peeps.

Roy took a look for himself and agreed with Hagred instantly. There were a few superficial scratches on the front forks and the saddle bags, but other than the bent crash bars and saddle bag guards, the bike looked almost new.

"This bike is freaking me out bro. You are more superstitious that I am, but I'm starting to see some things your way right now." Roy said quietly to his friend Hagred.

Hagred jumped up on the trailer and tried to bump the starter. Nothing happened.

"Well, I knew it was too good to be true. No worries my brotha'! I'll have this bitch purring before night fall...but I can't work on an empty stomach yah' know." Hagred said proudly.

"Alright Hagred. You got a case of PBR and a super star with cheese coming. I'll be back in a few minutes with your atta-boys." Roy smiled as he unhooked the trailer from the Jeep.

Hagred tossed his keys into Roy's hand. Roy stood there and stared at Hagred for a few seconds. It was an ackward, yet golden silence for the two men. They knew what it was, so there wasn't much that needed to be said.

"Roy...get the hell out of here. I'm thirsty and hungry already. I'll get that bike off the trailer while you are gone bro." Hagred gruffly mumbled.

Roy backed out of the driveway but stopped at the end for a moment. Hagred raised his hands up in the air as if to motion, "What now dude!"

"I love you my brotha! Thanks for being there for me...You have no idea as to how much I appreciate what you are doing for me right now. You have always been there!" Roy shouted as he stuck his head out the window of the Jeep.

Hagred looked down at his feet, almost embarrassed, and nodded his head a couple of times. Then he looked back up and gave Roy the bird with his middle finger.

Roy looked over his shoulder as he backed out into the street. As he put the Jeep into first gear, he looked over at Hagred again, then smiled like a chessire cat and returned the gesture with his middle finger as he drove off.

"Heh, I love that guy. He is a good friend....Anything he needs from me, well, he's got it. I would do anything for the dude." Roy thought to himself as he hooked a right onto main street.

Dead Man Riding 2

2010-12-03T21:39:00.001-08:00

First light pried open Roy's eyes as the rolled over on his side to look at the beat up alarm clock on the night stand.

"Oh good...that damned thing hasn't started squealing yet." he thought to himself.

The day was already starting out good for him just for the fact that he didn't have to wrestle with the snooze bar on the electro-mechanical time keeper. Roy remembered a better time when the snooze button used to work pretty good, but now it was in critical condition and on life support with the help of a tattered piece of electrical tape. Every morning was an epic battle between Roy and the stubborn snooze bar. By the time he was able to claim victory he was fully awake and annoyed as all hell.

"Go figure...I'll wake up to go on a good run without the alarm clock, but I'll be damned if I will get up on my own power for anything else. Somethin' is wrong with that." Roy chuckled as he pulled up his jeans for a third day wearing. He figured he was going to have monkey butt by the end of the day anyway so there was no use burning up a clean pair of jeans. Besides, he really wasn't in the mood, nor did he have time for a sniff check to verify that he had clean jeans lying around someplace.

Roy opened the door from the kitchen to the garage slowly. His brain was still foggy and he feared that the VStar, that should be sitting in the garage, might turn out to only be a satisfying dream. As the door swung open, there sat the VStar just as he had left it. It appeared just as handsome to Roy as it had at the local bike shop on the prior day. Roy walked over to the garage door and heaved it open as the morning light flooded in. He could instantly feel the radiant heat of the sun warming his toes through the steel toed boots he was wearing.

Roy walked back and swung a leg over the saddle of his new bike and backed it out of the garage. He reached over and banged on the starter switch which made the VStar come to life. It growled sufficiently for Roy and he was as pleased as a priest in a confessional booth with what he was hearing at the moment. This bike spoke to Roy and he knew he may have found the one for him after all the time he had spent searching.

As Roy swung back off his ride, and walked to the garage door to pull it down, he noticed there was something that wasn't the way he had left it the night before. The light in the garage was beaming like the north star. He stood there for a moment confused but figured that it was just one of those weird things that had a simple enough explanation. He would deal with it when he got back from the run.

Roy gave the bike the once over before he mounted up again and rode down the street towards the freeway. He had a good twenty miles to ride. A good twenty miles was nothing to him when it came to seeing a bunch of old friends. If he was lucky enough, and humble enough, he figured he just might make some new ones while he was at it.

"I'm fucking back man! Man...this feels good...nothing feels this good no doubt!" Roy thought to himself as he throttled up to a quarter of a ton upon entering the freeway. The wind was blowing in his hair again. The void was filled and he was whole once more. It was like the first time all over again. I was like his first rocking horse, his first bicycle and his first mini-bike all over again. It was nice to feel the unique thrill once again. There was nothing like it to Roy, except for maybe the company of a good woman.

Roy's thoughts were suddenly imposed on by the fact that his new ride appeared to be heavy on the right side. The only way he could keep the bike running true was to put slight and constant pressure on the left grip. He figured that the rear tire wasn't tracking true with the front. There was nothing in the saddle bags so it couldn't be an unbalanced cargo weight issue. Roy knew how the sloped crown of a road would affect steering, but this didn't feel like that either. He decided it was just a different lady and that he just needed to become familiar with her. He continued on his trail and didn't give this annoying problem a second thought.

As Roy approached his exit and he leaned his bike as he had done thousands, if not millions, of times before. The VStar leaned to the right as Roy had anticipated it would, however, it wouldn't take the off ramp and continued to rail straight. Roy's vision went paramedic strobe red as he started to push harder on the bars trying to get the machine to pitch enough to take the turn. The VStar wasn't going to have any of that at all and continued a defiantly straight course towards a large grove of eucalyptus trees at the apex of the long off ramp.

The rider had been in this situation many times in his life, for one reason or another, but for some reason he was panicked this time around because he had never experienced a control problem that he was slammed with at the moment. Everything slowed down and he could feel a desperate pounding in his head with every heartbeat. Every beat was almost deafening as he pushed harder on the right grip in an attempt to impose his will on the machine. Roy slid off the right side of the seat, so that his knee was almost skipping off the asphalt, in a hail-Mary attempt to give him the lean angle he would need to get his ass out of the situation he was facing. About that time the VStar suddenly went into a speed wobble. Roy instantly parked his ass back in the saddle as the rear of the bike bucked violently left and right, forcing his legs off the floorboards. Roy instinctively pulled in on the clutch hard and pushed both arms forward on the bars as he endured the pain of the bike bucking against the insides of his now freely loose rag doll like legs. Roy had never been on a bucking bronc before, but he certainly could relate to the experience suddenly and prayed that he could get off long before the eight seconds. He felt the right rear passenger pegs smash the inside of his ankle and all he could see was blinding swirl of static light before his eyes as the pain reached his already overtaxed brain.

Roy watched the trees fast approaching and his will had almost been completely broken. He knew he was no longer in control and would just have to ride this one out.

"Wholly shit! This one is gonna' hurt Roy....this one is gonna' hurt real bad! You are gonna' make it through just like you always do. It's gonna' be ok." he thought to himself as he laughed.

Roy gave in and accepted whatever was going to happen at that point. If he was going to cross the river here and now, well, he wasn't going to do it screaming. He was going to go out with all the glory he could muster. It was going to be something people would talk about for a long time to come...well, for at least a week or so anyway.

Roy quickly stomped his way to a lower gear, popped out the clutch and cranked hard on the throttle. This was going to be at his own hands and not some screwed up mechanical malfunction. Suddenly the engine cut out and the violent speed wobble instantly corrected itself, jarring Roy's neck with a snapping motion.

"Lean! Lean! Lean! Oh shit!...Oh shit!..." Roy screamed out figuring he might have a shot at another day suddenly.

The bike left the roadway and Roy only had less than 40 feet between his bike and the trees. The shoulder of the off ramp was a mixture of packed gravel, grass and mud. Roy locked up his rear and let the bike power slide sideways through the muck as he kept the front tire pointed towards the trees. The bike skipped over a rut, that must have been caused by a big rig at one time or another, and the jolt was so violent and spine jarring that Roy thought his head had popped right off the top of his neck.

Roy decided that it was time to punch out of this mission as he laid the bike down on it's side. The crash bar and pegs dug deep into slop as the bike threw clumps of grass, rocks and chunks of muddy clay into the air like a meteor plowing into the planet. Roy clawed for whatever was available trying to slow himself down as he slid behind the bike feet first. His leather jacket acted like a bulldozer as it bunched up around his rib cage, collecting mucky debris as he scraped the ground. The noise was deafening for what seemed like an eternity, then silenced suddenly.

All Roy could hear was cagers whizzing by at 80 miles per hour and his heavy, panicked breathing. He knew he was still alive but the first thing that came to his thoughts was to take look at his newly used motorbike. He rolled over on his side and saw the VStar buried in mud and knee high grass. Roy rolled on his back again and wiped the shit out of his eyes as he spit gritty chunks of mud from his piehole. He then rolled over on his stomach and pushed himself up to his knees right about the time the adrenalin, that was coursing through his body, had called it quitting time.

"Mutha' Fuck! Wholly shit! Whooooooooooooooooooo! I made it again...I made it again! Son of a bitch that was a rush!" Roy shouted at the top of his lungs like a lunatic as he clenched his fists tight and raised them up to the sky.

Right about then Roy found himself face first in the mud again. He was hurting for sure but he was given another chance and another day. Roy wondered if he had burnt up number 9 of his lives this time around as he rolled over on his back again. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. His shaking index finger punched in the number that would help him get out of this mess. Roy waited for the first ring tone on the other end as he thought about how his decision, regarding the wearing of his jeans for the third day in a row, must have been a prophecy of sorts.

Brother Hagred picked up on the other end of the line just about the time Roy was making the move to call in a second string savior.

Hagred would set things right. He was always the first call when anything like this happened.

Dead Man Riding

2010-11-24T14:32:00.001-08:00

Happy T-Day! Hope you all get stuffed proper. It's been awhile and I'm busy just trying to survive at the moment. While I was at work an old school biker came into the shop and we got to talking about brothers and sister who had passed on as a result of riding. This dude Roy told me a story while we were sitting there and I thought it would make a great read. Now, the human mind can really screw with a man and obviously it had screwed with Roy's, because the story you are about to read is what he told me. Sure I'm taking creative liberty here but the core of the story is what Roy told me. Roy swears it's true and when I told him it sounded a bit far fetched he got cross with me. After he calmed down he admitted it was crazy but swore it was true. I'll do my best to give justice to his story.

Part 1;

Roy slowly walked around the Yamaha V-Star as his scratched his chin contemplatively. The scratching was his only way of keeping his true lust for the bike he was currently eyeballing clandestine.  Even though he was having a religious experience at the moment, he had to keep his true intentions pushed as far back as he could. Roy knew he had a sweet hand right now and didn't want to blow the royal flush that was going to put him back in the saddle again. Many late night poker games had taught him well. He knew he was about to score the deal of a lifetime in just a few moments. It was a rare afternoon and he knew he was gonna' win this one. All he had to do was keep the poker face rolling.

"So...what do you think? It's a sweet ride no doubt." said a young and eager sales rep.

This simple question split the ear popping silence between the two men. Both wanted to win this power struggle. Both wanted to claim a victory.

Roy replied; "I dunno. It's a beautiful bike for sure, but I can't figure out what is bothering me about this bike. The damned thing has over 50k on it yet it looks as if it just came off the showroom floor. Something just ain't jiving here...besides, I'm not much for jap bikes."

The youngster leaned on the handlebars of the bike and replied; "You are a Harley guy huh? Well, let me clue you into something. There ain't nothing made in America anymore...c'mon...you know that! The Harley front forks are 'Showa' and made in Japan. The brakes are 'Brembo' and manufactured in Italy.  Let's not even talk about the performance of the Harley compared to a modern bike. Do I need to go any further?"

Roy got red in the face and he felt he had lost the upper hand on the deal suddenly. The youngster had pressed a button and opened up a wound in Roy's soul that he thought had healed over.

Roy spoke back as if his lips and tongue were laced with poison; "Look here kid...I'm not a bike snob and I have owned all sorts of bikes, but bikes are just like women, there is only one, and once you find her you stay with her because there will never be another like it. You stay until death do you part. The best bike I have ever owned was a Harley. Not because it has horsepower or went fast. There is a history behind a Harley and it's the only hunk of machinery that had a soul. It might sound stupid to someone like you but I know it to be truth. Here is some more truth for yah'. I would rather buy a basket case Harley than pay what you are asking for this piece of shit 'Yamadog'."

Roy started to head towards the door. He somehow felt that he had just saved himself from making a huge mistake. He wasn't quite sure as to why he felt this way about the wheeling and dealing because he was just about to score a good deal on a good bike. Sure it wasn't a hog but he was just about willing to ride anything at this point. He had finally finished his period of grieving and it was time to find a new love. He couldn't afford a new Harley...or even an old one at this point. The yuppies had sealed that deal for him. Roy appreciated the fact that people with money kept his beloved HD motor company alive, but there was a price to pay. The price was the stripping of one of the last legendary souls left around in this free economy. It was shame. The soul of the HD was sold so that the name could stay alive.

Roy heard a voice behind him as he pushed on the plate glass door. "I'll knock off five hundred dollars sir if you take it off our hands today..."

An hour later Roy was sitting on his new ride. His new love was simply beautiful to him. The VStar was truly a sight to behold.  Even if he couldn't get the soul thing right, he sure as shit got the sexy thing right. This machine was just pure sex. The dark metallic azul color had rich depth. The chrome on this machine was pristine and Roy couldn't find any signs of polish swirl anywhere on the damned thing. Yeah...it wasn't his old lady but he figured it was time to change some things up. The VStar line was proven to be reliable and the ride was unequaled on long runs. If Roy couldn't hook back up with his lost love then this new lady would surely take the pain away. Maybe the 1300 VStar would prove to have a soul. Roy could only hope, but he couldn't shake the cheatin' blues as he rode his new mistress to his house. The sun had done it's job for the day and had to transfer it's responsibilities as the night set in.

Roy pulled into his driveway after a quickie with his new found mistress. The headlight illuminated the garage door as he kicked the stand down and dismounted. He figured it was best to check her out completely before he took her out on a real date. Experience had taught him that any bike, well used or never used, needed a thorough inspection before taking it out on the blacktop. Roy watched the shadow he cast shrink smaller and smaller as he walked towards the garage door. His hand managed to grip the garage door handle at exactly the same moment that the hand of his shadow did. Roy had seen this hundreds, if not thousands of times in his life but his shadow always found a way to amuse him.

Roy thrust the door up with one good heave and walked back to the idling bike.  He leaned over and hit the kills switch, which silenced the vtwin abruptly giving way to the silence of the night. He pushed his newly acquired bride into the garage and laid her down on the stand as he listened to the exhaust pop and creak as it cooled.

Roy lit up a cigarette as he sat on a stool. He studied the new bike from front to back. There wasn't a scratch on it from what he could see. He began to wonder if the cycle shop had made some kind of mistake. To give himself a mental pinch, he reached over and turned the ignition to the run position, then pushed on the odometer button. The mileage read 50567. Roy now knew he wasn't dreaming. Right about then the garage light burnt out.

"What the hell! I just replaced that damned light. With all this technology, you would think they could build a better light bulb...pffftttt. I'll fix it in the morning." Roy said under his breath as he opened the door into the house.

He turned around just one last time to look at the VStar before hitting sack time. The kitchen light was enough to illuminate the new lady in the garage.  She looked like a million bucks to Roy. The empty spot in the garage was no more and it felt good to him. Roy felt whole again.  He knew that having such a passion for a hunk of steel almost fell into the freak category, but it was his one vice. He gave up everything else. This was his one thing and he knew he deserved it and it was the one thing he allowed himself to indulge in.

Tomorrow was going to kick ass. Roy couldn't wait to introduce his new trophy to everyone at the memorial run. He didn't have to borrow one of the brother's bikes this time around because he had his own. It was a rare and exciting moment for him because time and life had robbed him of all means of magic and celebration. He felt eight years old again and was just thrilled to be excited about something. It had been way too long time since Roy was excited about anything.

As Roy drifted off he reminded himself that he had to get up early so that he could give the VStar a good once over before heading out. It was going to be a glorious day and a new beginning. Maybe his luck had finally changed. Maybe this talisman was the evidence of good things to come.

Give Thanks For Your Lifestyle

2010-11-11T14:48:00.001-08:00

It doesn't matter what you think, or what you believe, or what religious views you have.

THE REAL TRUTH IS YOUR VETERANS GAVE YOU A CHOICE TO DO ALL THREE.

SOMETIMES YOU JUST HAVE TO ACCEPT THE FACTS...LIKE IT OR NOT.

THANK YOU VETERANS!

The Man Who Is Living My Dream

2010-11-04T16:44:00.001-07:00

One of the things I really want to do before I leave this rock is tour the U.S. on my bike. As a matter of fact, if there was only one trip I could take before I go, it would be to do what Gary has been doing for 130+ days.

If you have not been following Gary's adventures in the U.S., you can find it here. "USA Tour on a Harley-Davidson"

Gary has been full-on tramping across the United States for months. I have been following his story from day one. I was hoping that he would at least stop by for a cup o' joe while he was out West, but I really didn't expect him to go out of his way to stop.

A couple of days ago I was sitting out front of the coffee shop on Tramp, talking to another brother named Doug. I heard a bike but I didn't recognize the growl so I turned around to take a look and there was the Trail Blazing Brit, escorted by the "Leading Ladies" that I have been following on his blog.

Poor Gary was greeted with a loud "Get the hell outta' here!....no bikers allowed!" as I walked across the street towards him. I'm not sure if he recognized me at the time but he took it well regardless.

As you can see his Road King was a big hit. You fully can not appreciate the detail of the paint job via picts. You have to see it first hand because there is so much subtle artwork on the bike that it's pretty amazing.

As I was checking out his two wheeled rolling art piece I found something that looked sorta' like a sex toy.

If I had all those leading ladies painted on my bike, I guess my ride would have a hard-on too. Gary explained that the reg tags are so damned ugly and big that he keeps them in the clear, sex-toy lookin' thing so that he doesn't have to defile the lovely look of his bike. As long as the "Bobbies" can see the tags he's good.

Gary is just who you would expect him to be. He is just a down to earth dude who is out having the time of his life. I got to sit a talk with him for awhile and all I can say is that I wish we had more time. I won't spill the details of what he does or his past, but I can tell you he is one good soul. He has worked for what he has and he certainly has been blessed for his efforts. Anyone can like this guy. He is just who he is and I totally respect that.

Gary said that he has met so many good people and has seen so much that it's even hard for him to explain it. This makes me feel a bit better about us as people and as a country. He even got invited to see a car collection......I'll let him spill the wine on that one but I think it's going to blow all your minds. It blew mine.

"Gary, May the great road gods smile upon you for the remainder of your journey. Thanks for taking us along on your ride-about. Most of all, thank you for just being a real genuine dude. One of these days I'm going to be re-tracing what you have already done. Maybe you can re-live your dream as I reveal mine on my bloghole. Cheers!.....oh yeah, I almost forgot....you got alot of road grime on that bike....you might have to change the name of her to "The dirty ladies", at least until you give her a good bubble bath. Wow! Who gets the opportunity to give the "Leading Ladies" a bubble bath! Gary does! The pleasure was all ours mate!" - Dave

Hmmm....Maybe I should think about the "U.K. Tour on a Harley-Davidson". Whaddaya think of that!

The Ugly Is Back

2010-10-26T13:27:00.001-07:00

I was out this weekend with a brother who has just taken the plunge into the bike scene. We have been working on his 99 Sportster for a few months. He went through the rider's safety course with no problems.

Over the weekend we went out for a ride. WillyD and I were following him to observe so we could let him know what his weak areas were. Well, we found one. He came to a stop light and grabbed a fistfull of front brake doing 15 mph. The front wheel locked up like my brain does when I see "double owls". The bike came out from underneath him. WillyD and I sat and watching him struggle to get the bike back up...which he did. (We figured he was alright for the most part and he needed to know that he could lift the bike back up on his own. We weren't trying to be dicks or anything like that.)

The short of it is he has a knee brace now and will be off the bike for awhile. It dislocated his patella or something like that. Good luck brother "J"! We will be waiting for you when you are ready to head out again...oh...no ass kicking either for awhile...at least not with your left leg.

Next up...I just found out our friend "Rico" is in surgery. Yesterday he got creamed by a cager while riding his bike. He is alive but his spine, arm and pelvis are broken. We don't know if he is going to be paralyzed. Brother "Rico" is a a cage fighter. I don't want to be around this dude when he finds out he can't compete anymore. Maybe I'll have to let him slap me around some just to make him feel better...well, as long as he gives me the pads...I'm not a total moron. The real tragedy is he came by yesterday to show me his engagement ring...life is a real bitch sometimes. It all happened right after he left me at the shop.

Well, "Rico"...you are a fighter my brother so fight your ass off and get it back with the rest of us. You have all our prayers and thoughts. We will figure out how to get some help to your fiance.

Brother "J"...you have a good story to tell and you have got your one out of the way...it's all good from here on out if you keep your shit clean.

You ride long enough you get used to this. Shit just happens no matter how careful you are. You never want it to happen but...it just does. And to think that people wonder why biker are such a close knit group. We understand it without even having to think about it.

Love it or leave it.

Another Gold Nugget Found

2010-10-24T13:08:00.001-07:00

So...I'm sittin' downing coffee today. I'm trying to catch up on what's going on in the two wheeled world. I get bored sometimes even though my idea of a kickass time is extremely boring to most of the planet.

I tell people about my road trips and hobo runs. They seem to be really into hearing about the adventure and it's intriguing to them. But when it comes down to it...they are intrigued by the idea, and that is about as far as it goes. When it comes to actually living it?...well, screw that!

I have to admit. It's rough out there sometimes. All sorts of stuff happens....stuff that would make the average person freak out and say "Fuck this shit...I'm going home!" How do I know this? I have watched 'em do it over and over again.

Why do I love hobo-runs? Because it's actually a hardship most of the time. How can someone have such an awesome time and be so miserable at the exact same time? Beats me...I can't explain it...all I know is I love the crap out of it. It's pretty much what I dream about doing most of the time.

I found something on Wooley's blog that just made my jaw drop. I really dig this video that got posted on SpeedAndGlory

All I can say is "Kick Ass!" I love this video...why?, hell, I don't really know except it is just what I love to do...somebody actually captured what I think, live and dream about....just the way I see it. It actually freaked me out.

Thanks Speed and Glory for the cool vid. Thanks Wooley for finding it. I'm almost in love with the damned thing.

120 Miles To Return A Sweatshirt?

2010-10-21T21:02:00.001-07:00

"Hey Dave! Do you want to ride out to Lathrop with me? I have to return a sweatshirt and I know you are always up for a good ride. Wanna' go?"

"Let me get this straight....you want me to get up early on Saturday....ride 120 to Lathrop, so you can return a crummy sweatshirt, then ride 120 back....are you insane?"

"Are you saying no?"

"Eerrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...oh shit....OK! I"m in...I'm a sucker for a good ride....what the hell!"

Even I thought I was insane for awhile there when we started. We rode 120 miles out to "The Eagles Nest" Harley shop in Lathrop CA.

This dealership is huge! Check out this link to see some picts. I tried to take some but they all came out crappy. "Eagles Nest Harley Davidson"

But this place had some surprises for us. One was Pat Travers was playing in the parking lot! No friggin' way...wish I would have known that sooner! I would have stayed longer.

Then I got to see this!

Then I got to see this.!

Then...I met Super Dave Osbourne!

Then I saw these creepy looking manikins that they use there...it freaked me out 'cause it looks like some anime chick having an orgasm.

Then I'm walking around and checking out all the bikes on the showroom floor when I see a group of 'murdered out' bikes in the front. I dig blacked out bikes so I went over to check them out. As I got closer I realized that they were not for sale and that I had see these bikes someplace before;

I didn't know that the Eagles Nest Harley Davidson in Lathrop built all the bikes for the "Sons Of Anarchy" so it was a kick ass surprise.

Thanks Dave, Candice, Bryan and Nicole for a great day! You folks are good people.

And here I was thinking that I was only going on a ride to help a buddy return some crummy sweatshirt. Next time a brother just wants to hang out with you...don't say no. You never know what you are gonna' run into.

911...Sorry, I Got This.

2010-10-18T19:18:00.001-07:00

So,...I get alot of emails as a result of this blog...otherwise known as the armpit of the internet, if that's a better fit for your description of my e-hole here. Here is one email;

"Dave...I love reading your stuff but is Salinas really as bad as you make it out to be? I love checking in to your blog and I enjoy your writing, but sometimes I wonder if you sensationalize or spice up your stories just to make them more interesting. Did this really happen? I'll keep it on the downlow but I just gotta' know. You seem to attract alot of confrontation."

The bit you just read is the general gist of a number of emails I have received, or conversations I have had, with folks over the past year or so.

I thought about it for awhile and I came up with an explanation!

I'm going to give you the secret ingredients for attracting confrontation....which is....get a lobotomy and start a business where I did!; Firstly, unemployment here is 12% compared to a national average of 5.9%. The average annual income is $31,000 a year. (Funny...anything under $31,000 is considered below the poverty level according to the IRS.) The homicide rate is 21 per 100,000 people. The national average is 5 per 100,000 people.......Whoa! That enough to make things interesting enough already, but what does this have to do with me?

Once again...my business...that is what it has to do with me. Soledad prison is just down the road. Monterey County Jail is just down the road. The probation department is across the street. Inmates are dropped off at the bus station behind my shop...literally at my back door. "ChinaTown", which is the slums of Monterey, the place where all the drug addicts and the homeless hang out is a block away. The economy has put the shelters in a pinch so most of the people have to hit the streets more now than ever. All this leads to an interesting mix. I pretty much meet and greet all these people.

So, are you starting to get the picture now? It always blows my mind when someone can't believe that people get shot, people get ripped off, people get robbed, people get the shit kicked out of 'em....and so on, and so on. This stuff really happens folks...what world have you been in?

So...the answer to all the convos and emails I get..."Yes. If I said it happened then it happened."

What else do you want me to tell you?...heh!

Ok...Now allow me to stick my foot up the ass of the "I wonder if you sensationalize or spice up your stories just to make them more interesting?"

I got this so do me a favor and read the sentence that follows; "A man tried to throw a steel chair at me yesterday. I got pissed off and ran after him. He out ran me because I was fat and slow." (Another true story that happened a couple of weeks ago.)

How did that grab yah! I know I know..."hohummmmmm. Yeah...whatever Dave." Now read the following;

"This crackhead picked up a steel chair with a wild stare in his eyes. He held it over his head and made a b-line straight towards me. In my minds eye, I could already feel the chair impacting my face as I thought to myself, 'Shit...this one is gonna' hurt.'" Fortunately, I was able to dodge the chair, and he beat feat across the street. I chased that punk into the next zip code but his ass out ran mine. Oh well...maybe another day."

See! Wasn't that hella' better!?! Hell yeah I spiced it up a bit, but it's all true. It did happen, just the way I wrote it. He was crazy looking, he swung the chair, I actually thought it was going to hurt, I dodged it, he ran. I ran too.

This isn't the newscast. This isn't an encyclopedia...this is simply my life in as much color as I can paint in between the lines.

You know what? I don't think I would change much in my life at all...except for maybe more road dime in my pocket. I get to help people out all the time. I get all sorts of perspective from all different types of folks. I get the risk and adrenaline I need to stay happy and out of trouble. (Some of you are going to understand that and others will be like, "WTF?)

I might move away from here someday...when I get tired or too old to deal with it, but for now, it's my home and I'll make the best of it. I'm gonna' make things better around here and I'll make a difference somehow...even if it is only one person at a time.

Did that answer the questions? You folks can trust me....seriously! bwahahahahahah! (Now I got you thinkin' huh? It's all good...anyone who has met me knows the real truth. Just ask 'em.)

We Can Make A Difference

2010-10-08T14:09:00.001-07:00

These are hard times. Alot of people are out of jobs and hurtin' for some of the basics nowadays. I run into these people on a daily basis and I do what I can to help out, but there is only so much I can do and keep myself above water.

As hard as things are right now, I'm never without necessities, and even our perception of the minimal things necessary to survive in this country, is seen as outright, godlike wealth to a whole shit load of people in other parts of the world.

We still have it good. I don't care what anyone says. In the U.S. we still live like kings. Sorry, I know it sounds ridiculous but it's just a truth folks. I have never seen, or heard of, anything that has changed my viewpoint on that subject.

I try to stay away from doing causes and all that here on my bloghole because it's my place to unload, goof off and share my passion for bikers and motorcycles .

There are some things that you can't afford to ignore. No...I don't know these people. No...I don't know if what I give will go to the intended purpose with 100% certainty...but you know what? I have a gut feeling about this one so I'm going to do it. It's grassroots and I'm going to take the risk. I have nothing to lose by helping out, absolutely nothing. What do I have to gain? Everything man! Seriously...think about it. I have a chance to completely change someone's life.

We need to help each other, even if it's simply moral support and prayers. If you can part with a couple of bucks then that's even better.

Chris, over at "Ol' Lady Biker" shot me the email. You can find more information at "1000 Miles For His Little Girl". I am going to be looking into it some more myself.

I'm going to throw a few clams towards this. It might not be as much as I would like to put into the pot, but at least it will be something. If this were my kid I would be out robbing banks as well as doin' 1k in 24. Don't make this Dad go out and rob banks or knock over Quickie Marts people!

One More Trick

2010-10-05T21:11:00.001-07:00

From the Book of Jesse;

"Knees in the breeze...pfftttttt, hardly. This ain't no breeze. Moving at a ton plus makes for more like a damned hurricane." I thought to myself as the firestorm burned through my veins. The same fire that's smouldering and choking out my senses dull with a warm, hazy smoke. A smoke which is blurring my vision at the moment.

The single headlight parts the blackness; It's luminance desperately trying to stay ahead of the road fast approaching my front tire. My entire existence is currently at the mercy of a furious spinning ring of moulded rubber. It's the only thing that is between me and that damned chip-rock cheese grater blasting by below my oil pan. It is the only thing giving me a purpose and direction at the moment.

"Yeah, this is just the way it's suppose to be. This is exactly what it feels like to be alive! This is what it feels like to be truly free."

I'm pushing the rift between my fantasy and true reality. Once again I'm flirting with the reaper's mistress in hopes that her man is out harvesting another poor bastard's soul. My soul is soaring right now...not even that wicked bastard in swirling shrouds of black ink can touch it at the moment. Nope...this man's soul is way out there and untouchable. I can't even touch it because I have stripped it from my own grasp...with a little help from an old friend.

"Man...I'm open throttle and all the ponies are out of the gate. Can't this bitch move any faster? I need to make it back home before it's too late. My old lady will nail my balls to the fence post if I don't make it back in before...errr....before, O'dark thirty...whatever time that is. Jesse, you are a fool sometimes....just a damned fool."

My thoughts wain and I wonder if can pull off another magic trick. I wonder if my story is going to hold up under the pressure of the stare down. I wince my eyes shut trying shake the vision because it's killin' my buzz. It's a look like no other. The recipe for this look is simple. Mix the following ingredients together; lies, love, pain, insecurity, loneliness, admiration, uncertainty, suspicion, betrayal and compassion into one expression. Some have seen this look; others have only yet to see it, but once you have seen it there is no forgetting it. It will haunt you until the end of days. The lady wants to trust me, but deep down inside she senses I'm doin' her wrong. She just wants so desperately to be wrong about me, but sadly, she's not. The worst of it is the knowledge that she is not even sure simply because I'm the only one who knows what really happens in my world. She wants to trust me...but my word, my honor and my sword of truth has been broken many times over in selfish battle. Fleeting personal glory that has no long term spoils. I'm just another rock star in life who is putting all my hopes in one last come back tour.

"I can avoid the stare if I just keep riding until day break. I could just start a new chapter in my book of life and head out. It would be easy. I have enough fuel and enough in my pocket to just keep riding...at least until Las Vegas. I don't think I can bear to see the heartbreaking look that will be piercing me. Daggers of despair from her angelic eyes."

I back off on the throttle a bit and bring my V-Twin down to a saner insanity. 10 more miles until the judgement. I think about how I must face this beast within one more time. I know the the right words to say and know the right touch to convince her this is the last time things are going to go down like this. She will give in one more time in hopes that I am telling the truth this go round. She has a good soul. I'm going to be a man for once in my life. I'm going to make good on my promises for once. I'm going to take all of the pain away and make this story end in fairy tale fashion.

"Comfortably numb...yeah...that's what this is right now. The biting wind would normally be trying to tear the leather and denim off my hide, but right now, it's just caressing me gently. It's almost like it's telling me all is right...everything is going to be alright. My bike is running true right now...that's odd. Screw those jackasses who think they know what's best. I do my own thing....screw those pricks! I'm pony express right now and doing just fine. What the hell do they know anyway! I'm gonna' give Vic a piece of my mind next time we hook up. He should know better than to divert my destiny."

My mind rewinds to a few hours before; Blurred visions of laughter, loving shoves and shot after shot going down is replaying in my head. I see the faces of all my brothers.

"Man...now that's a love. Those boys love the crap out of me and I love them...whatever they need, well...it's already done. I kicked ass on the dart board tonight and the wad in my pocket is all the proof needed to justify the arrogance. Did I actually get up and belt out "In a Gadda' Da Vida" tonight? Hell, I think I did. Did I make out with that smokin' hot brunette? Hell yeah I did...I can still smell her on my breath. I can still taste her salty sweetness on my lips. Did I actually poke that dickhead in the chest, knocking his ass back into his seat, when he was giving the little blond a hard time? Yeah...I guess things did go to far, but it wasn't my fault...it was the booze. Pfffftttt...ok, get real Jess,....it was my f'in fault for putting myself there. Who the hell am I trying to kid? Shit, I'm even trying to lie to myself now...I really am out of touch,...it's confirmed."

Confused now I ride. I think about how my life is a series of good times and heartaches. All lessons learned at the expense of others who are on the same quest as I. I ponder about how my life might have been different if I had listened to those who were older and wiser than I. Tears stream out of the corner of my eyes as the wind forces them to trail horizontally along my face and behind my ears. I try to convince myself they are not tears, but simply my peeps in a futile attempt to stop the drying effect of the wind, which is trying to pry the goggles off from my face.

"Hey...at least I know what they were trying to tell me is truth. There is no doubt in my mind now. I'm a fool but at least I know true wisdom comes from getting plowed in the face by life a few times. Others can recite wisdom but do they really know it? Can they really feel it? Can they really touch it and understand it?...nope, but sure as shit....I can. Now...how can I teach others what I have learned. Will they listen? Heh, hell no...not if they are made up of the same stuff I am. I'm gonna' try anyway...what the hell."

So there I am, only five miles from home. I'm in full effect right now. I'm so focused on controlling my machine that there isn't much else I can ponder. I feel so good. I feel so alive now. Everything has come to me and I know what I have to do now. I'm going to make this one last lie. I'm going to get my tit out of this wringer one more time and then I'll follow the iron rod home. I crank the throttle back up in anticipation of my new life. The twisties are coming at me fast and hard. I'm a bad ass...I got this no problem. The thrill of the lean revives my soul to whole again. We are full tilt on the board now.

I finally make it home. I kiss the saddle of my hog and kneel at it's side in thanks for the awesome journey. Her and I have been through alot together. She is my second love. I turn to face my last lie, and face my first love, in hopes that I can pull this off one more time. It will be the last time for all time.

My lady comes into sight as I walk up the driveway. She is sitting on the porch with her face buried in her hands. I can hear her sobbing and crying like someone has torn her heart right out of her chest. I don't think I'm gonna' be able to say the right thing this time...I'm pretty sure of this for some reason and I don't even know why. I was too late this time...just too little too late once again. It's my story and has been since I can remember.

I drop to my knees and I can hear her desperate sobbing as if I was stone cold sober now; "Fuck you Jesse! Fuck you! I hate you!...I hate you and I don't even know why I give a fuck anymore! Why did you leave me....why? It was my fault wasn't it. I wasn't good enough for you was I Jess. Why? Wasn't I good enough Jess? I did everything for you. I let you have your own life even though it was killing me. Just when I thought you had changed your ways and that things were going to be different...you go fucking it up for good now. I hate you so much right now. I hate you....I hate you....I hate...."

I'm paralyzed now. I'm stone dead inside. I can't feel anything. I have single handedly killed something so precious and pure. I put a stranglehold on her love and squeezed it until I choked the very life and magic out of it. I'm a murderer even though I have never killed anyone. I'm a killer of a good, loyal and precious heart. I deserve what ever happens to me now. It's time to take the blows. It's time to pay up.

"Nadine, I'm so sorry girl...I'm so very sorry. It's my fault...I should have done something more." I thought I heard myself say; only it wasn't my voice.

I look up again and there is brother Vic sitting next to my lady. He has his arm around her and his shoulder is soaked in her tears. It was then I realized it wasn't me saying the words. It was my brother Vic that was saying the words I thought were coming from my own mouth.

"How the fuck did Vic get here before I did? There is no way....no way at all. I was haulin' balls. He was with me at the bar and the last thing I said to him was, 'Give me the keys to my bike shithead before you piss me off and I have to put the hurt on your sorry ass.' I'm confused as shit right now."

I remember him throwing up his hands and saying; "This ain't on me brother...I'm not going to start a fight over this. It's all on you now bro. I love you but you are just out of control....I'm done with your shit...you are out of control brother."

I turned to look at my bike. My heart dropped because my old trusty trail companion was as new and as pristine as the day I had bought her. She was flawless. I turned back to Nadine and Vic. I noticed Vic was clutching my vest in his hands as he cried next to my first love. My brother was covered from head to boot heel with blood...my blood.

I finally figured out what was up. I was too late. Nadine tried to tell me things. She tried to make me an honest man and loved me above all others...I just took it for granted. Vic tried to tell me things. He tried to take my keys from me at the bar. I was three sheets to the wind and he knew I wasn't suppose to be on the road. He must have found my wrecked hog and my carcass in progress while he was chasing me down. He must have been in pursuit, in hopes of salvaging whatever life I had left. The both of them just wanted me to have the best life possible. Both did their best to make me happy. I should have been thinking about them a bit more. Now they are only left with guilt; A burden of guilt that I am wholly responsible for. I am the bastard that strapped it to their backside. I could have relieved them of that burden with a few loving words and a deviation from my path on the highway to hell.

I have no more magic tricks and I have run out of my nine lives. The reapers mistress ratted me out to the old man. He had dealt with me accordingly.

I straddle my bike. It starts up alright but I can't feel anything. I ride it out to the edge of town. I feel no breeze. I feel no wind in my hair. The bike makes no sound and I can't feel a hint of vibration in the bars. There is no thrill in taking the corners now. All the sensory feedback has been stripped away because I have no need for them anymore. I don't feel a damned thing.

I'm free again. Free again to ride where ever I want to roam. The range is wide open for me now. The only problem is I have no place to go. I have seen the world a thousand times and nothing can even bring a smirk to my lips.

"Vic...you should have kicked the shit out of me brother...you should have knocked my ass out cold and taken my keys. Oh well, you tried my brother...you tried. Nadine, I should have given you what you deserved...you didn't ask for much. I pray I didn't teach you any of my tricks...you are better than that. "

"I love you babe. I Wish I had one more trick up my sleeve,...yeah,...just one more trick."

Fist Full Of Bearings

2010-10-01T13:35:00.001-07:00

Ok...uhmmmm...Well, we got Tramp back up and running in one day! Schweeet! So I took some vids and picts for you pleasure. My bike is running like new...it kicks ass once again and I'm damned happy about that. Tramp got a new; Inner Primary Bearing, IDS bearing, Rear pads, A couple of welds and a complete fluid change and lube. She's a happy bike!

WARNING; If grown men playing with dolls, cussing and naked bikes offend you then you should pass on this video...seriously. If tearing apart bike bores the snot out of you...then you also might want to pass.

NOTE; This is a big one. It will take a minute for the video to load. Press the PLAY BUTTON below in the bottom left had corner of the video window. It will buffer, indicated by a cool lookin' green barber pole looking thing, and then start to play.

I'm Not The Boss

2010-09-24T16:14:00.001-07:00

"Hey Dave, can I talk to you for a minute when you have a spare moment?"

"Sure...what's on your mind?"

"Those bikes and guys outside are scaring our customers away. On top of it they verbally assaulted a young lady who was walking by. I was afraid that they were going to do something to her. All the smoking is bothering us too. We are trying to create a friendly environment here."

"Did you hear the lady getting a hard time?"

"No, but that is what it looked like."

"Hmmmm...what does this have to do with me? I don't control any of these people you are talking about. Some of them are indeed my friends but I have never seen any of them be disrespectful of anyone. All I have ever seen is them helping people out. Yeah, maybe when some crack head goes off on them they tend to get a little aggressive, but I don't see what you see going on here. I'll see if anyone knows about the lady getting any nasty comments. I promise you, if that did in fact happen, then I will fix that problem no doubt. We don't need that around here. I can't see any of those boys out there doing that."

"Those bikes are loud and parking on the sidewalks are illegal. You know how those people are."

"No, no I don't. Do you think I'm one of those people?"

"Well....no...you might look like them but you have always been a perfect gentleman."

"Thank you, but I am one of them. The only difference is you only know me. You should really get to know those guys out there. One is a Pastor. Another one is a construction foreman. See that guy over there...he's a retired cop. That guy at the end, well he's a retired Navy Seal. Now...that dude with the S.O.A. T-shirt....yeah, I agree...he's an asshole."

"Hahahahahah! Seriously, you always make me laugh Dave. Is he really an asshole?"

"Yeah...I don't really care for him much because he's always full of shit. I can't believe anything he says, but the rest of 'em...they are the best people I have ever met."

"Well...I doubt that but if you say so then maybe, but none of this changes the fact that they scare people."

"Well, that ain't my problem now is it. That is all on them for being sheeple. They bought into the hype and propaganda. I want you to think about this for a minute. Name a few mass murderers or serious sex offenders you know. I'll show you a listing of all the convicted sexual assault offenders in this county. I can pretty much assure you that none of them are bikers and certainly none of those faces are standing outside your business. Have you thought of one famous killer biker yet?"

"I guess you have a point....I can't think of any."

"You really want to know what is hurting your business? It's the crackheads, methheads and junkies that are roaming all over this down town bothering people for money...especially the aggressive ones. Those are the folks you need to be worried about."

"I see your point but none of this really helps solve our little problem. Parking on the sidewalk is illegal!"

"Well...how many times a day do cars park right there? How many times a day do you use it as a loading zone? How many times do you and your customers actually impede traffic because they are halfway out into the street while you are doing all of this? I know because I watch you do it."

"That's different! I don't see your point! We are not harassing or scaring people around here! Either you do something about it or we will find other ways to solve the problem! You just wait and see. I'm going to have the police out here!"

"Why are you getting your panties in a bunch...I was just stating facts. What makes you think I control any of these guys? I can't tell them what to do. Just because I have a bike and park out there doesn't mean I can control any of them. They are free men...unlike some other folks around here."

"If you can't fix this I'm calling the cops right now!"

"Hey, if you feel the need to call the cops go right ahead. You pay for 'em. Oh...come to think of it, how come you don't come out and ream out the S.P.D. or the C.H.P. for parking their bikes out there all the time?"

"Because they are the police! I'm not stupid."

"I never said, or thought, you were stupid....until today. Hope you don't take that personal but it's the truth. You need to focus on the real problems here. Those boys outside are not it and you can trust me on that. Believe it or not, they probably would risk serious injury to help you out if you were in a pinch."

"They would probably rape my dead body! That's what they would do."

"Hahahahah.......you are kidding here right? Seriously?"

"Yeah...I was kidding. I'm just frustrated with everything down here lately. It's hard doing business. I'm tired."

"I hear yah on that one. I'm at the end of my rope......here, I'll tell you what I will do. I'll park across the street and I'll ask my friends to do the same. Maybe that will help out a little. That way they are not right in front."

"That's not good enough! They need to be off the street! They need to be out of OldTown. You better take care of this Dave!"

"Sorry...I tried to meet you on this. I have about as much control of what happens out there as Salinas P.D. does. I'm not going to do what you ask."

"You can. Those people respect you. They will listen to you."

"Do you realize why they respect me? Because I respect them. I respect their individual freedom and rights as a human being. If I go telling any of them they need to do something that goes against what I know is fair and right....then none of them will respect me. Hell, I wouldn't respect myself either. I'm not going to do this. I'll still park my bike across the street because I still respect you...even after this conversation, but don't expect those boys out there to. I have no control over them. If they want to park across the street too then they will but it won't be me to tell them they should. I'll be honest with you....I'm a little dissappointed....I thought you had your head together better than this."

"What about my rights! You better take care of this or I will!!!!"

"That's exactly why I'm going to park across the street out of courtesy. However, if you push me further than that you will have a good fight on your hands. We actually park where we are at out of courtesy to you! It allows more people to park downtown! More customers for you. Now here you are complaining about it....You are wrong here. I'm sorry...you are just wrong. If those guys were parked in the parking spaces on the street......half the block would be just bikes."

"Hmmmm....I never thought about that."

"Hmmmmmm....that would be a good idea. I could call up all my brothers and sisters and just spend a couple of days swapping parking spaces. We could have the whole damned block to ourselves! The cars would have to park a couple of blocks away! I dig that idea! It would be like a protest or a Little Hollister! heck, I would pony up coffee!"

"You wouldn't.....no, you wouldn't"

"You know what? If I hear anymore of this non-sense...yes, I just might."

(It just never ends does it. Another sad but true story. Glad it occurred on a Friday...'cause I have all weekend to get over it.)

Listen To Your Baby

2010-09-21T18:46:00.001-07:00

Well, I must love Tramp (2008 FLHX Street Glide) because I have blown away 50,000 miles of asphalt on her. By now I would have sold or traded for a new ride, so I know I'm lovin' this bike. I have never owned a bike that has made me want to keep it for the long haul. This bike is the one. I'm almost certain I'll never get rid of it.

As much as I love this bike, just as in relationships, it has really pissed me off right good at times....like RIGHT NOW! You dirty @#*! beeeeootch!

I'm losing my inner primary bearing and my IDS bearing again! What the hell is going on here! I figure I only have a couple of hundred miles left before some serious damage is done.

My bike talks to me. I listen to my bike all the time when I ride. If something don't sound right then I look into it. People tell me I'm paranoid but I have never been wrong about my suspicions regarding a noise. Mechanics can't hear these problems and they look at me like I'm smoking crack when I say "See! Do you hear that?" None of them, except for my brother WillyD, has ever been able to diagnose the problems. I have a pretty good idea of what's going wrong just by listening and talking to other bikers about it. The Brothers and Sisters give me good insight and often help me decide what the issue is long before I even take a wrench to Tramp.

There are times when you need to tell your bike to shut the hell up. If you travel to a different altitude, a climate that is drier or that has different humidity than your home 20, then you can pretty much ignore a subtle noise without too much worry. If you change helmets or add a windshield to the bike, then you can be certain your ride is going to sound like a stranger to you. I'm not talking about the obvious, "OH Shit!" noises of grinding metal, or those that resemble the sounds that Ironman would make if he were having an epileptic seizure. You need to get those checked out no matter where you are. I'm talking about subtle noises that just sound off...the ones you are not sure about.

If you hear the subtle noises while you are around your own stomping grounds you really need to at least investigate them.

You wanna know what is really a crime? Dudes who won't ask anyone what the problem might be for fear of looking like a dumbass in front of the guys. Oh yeah people... because we all know everything there is to know about motorbikes now don't we! I got over this a long time ago because there is no way I can look any more of a dumbass than I already do...problem solved for me! Seriously...the only way to learn about your bike is to find someone who knows bikes. Yeah you will get ribbed a bit but soon enough you will know enough to do just about anything if you pay f'in attention to what that knowledge is telling you. I know how to work on bikes but honestly, the Harley is a different animal for me. I'll admit it by saying it was almost intimidating even though the HD's are pretty straight forward and simple. I think I just psyched myself out initially. I spent a good chunk of change on this bike...I didn't want to go f'in it up.

Anyway...Tramp is going to the hospital. I have lined up the best there is around here to help with the surgery. Saturday is the day and Tramp and I will be spending it at "BS-Performance". (WillyD's Garage) I'm gonna' have to pull off the rear IDS and the entire primary guts to replace the inner primary bearing. The funny thing is WillyD's neighbor has an 08 FLHX suffering from exactly the same problem at 30,000k. They are probably working on it as we speak...or read...or whatever it is we are doing right now.

Listen to your ride man! It's trying to tell you something. Don't ignore it because you literally put your life in your bikes han....errrrr...seat, every time you head out. If the two of you are one, then both of you go down if you ignore the simple signs and sounds that could literally save your life...and the life of your bike. Do not accept some dealer wrench-monkey's explanation that it's "Just the characteristics of a Harley" or "Well, it still runs so there must not be too much wrong with it." or "Maybe you are being too hard on it." (I despise that last one and I have heard it many times. No you jackasses...I just ride it...alot!) I'm seriously going to slap the crap out of the next mech who tells me any of these dumbass statements...seriously.

"Inner primary bearing-$20, IDS bearing-$50, Inner primary race-$15....having friends who like you enough to help you out and save you $700 bucks! Flippin' priceless!.....just flippin' priceless."

I think I'm going to document this repair with some video or something...just in case anyone is interested in seeing Tramp naked!

Fall Is Coming

2010-09-17T11:27:00.001-07:00

Yup...the riding season is coming to a close. Better get 'em in while you can. The picture?...Heck, it's fall looking isn't it? But what I really like about this picture is it is sorta' a visual snap of the duality of men. It's all about the changing seasons; The seasons of the world and the seasons within.

I figure it's time for some re-runs so I picked out a few of my favorite brain farts from the past. Those of you who have been here have already seen this mindless crap are excused if you feel the need. For those of you who are new, well...you might get a kick out of 'em. I had a good time wrenching them together so enjoy peeping a toke.

(I think I'm heading towards a major creative binge here and I'm stoked about it! It's about f'in time! I think I got too serious about things for awhile there....yech.)

"One To Make M.A.D.D. See Red"

"Run With The Son"

"One Man's Dream"

"Drastic Measures"

"Biker Love Story"

"Cruisers Just Might Make Better Lovers"

Have a kick ass weekend y'all!

Ass-imilation - A True Story

2010-09-15T16:56:00.001-07:00

It was late in the evening as he took a long drag from his cigarette. He smiled at his daughter as she laughed at another one of his stupid jokes.

"How do you put up with my Dad?" the daughter said to the fiancee of the man.

"I don't know but he makes me happy...I can overlook all the other stuff for that reason alone!" the attractive woman said to her future stepdaughter.

As the three sat there on a planter box in front of a small coffee shop, a stranger approached smelling of alcohol. The prison tats that adorned the stranger set the daughter on edge. The man sitting with the two women normally wouldn't take too much stock in the facade, but for some reason this stranger was different. He told the two women with him to stay sharp. There was something he didn't like about this dude.

"Give me a light! I need a light now!" the stranger demanded from the woman sitting next to the man and his daughter.

The man looked up at the stranger from his stoop on the planter box and said, "No...Don't give this man a damned thing until he shows some respect. I don't know where you came from but if you want something then a little civility goes a long way friend."

The stranger's face went wild with fury as he yelled, "I did fucking ask politely you fucking asshole! Who the fuck are you! You are nothing but a punk! I'll knock the shit out of you! You're a punk! You're nothing but a punk!"

The two women stood up and moved away as the man still sat looking up at the stranger.

"Look...you demanded a light. That isn't asking friend. You need to back off and think a minute. All you need to do is ask...not demand." the still sitting man said to the stranger calmly.

The stranger stepped forward and loomed over man on the planter. The stranger was a few inches taller and a few pounds heavier. He started to point his shaking index finger as he continued to rage on; "Fuck you! You are nothing but a pussy punk! You are nothing but a fucking punk!"

The fiancee of the man sitting, boldly stepped up and said to the stranger; "No one talks to my man like that!"

The man waived off his fiancee trying not to be distracted by her boldness in his defense. He knew she was a keeper and would stick with him no matter what, but he didn't think she would go this far. She surprised him once again. He pushed his admiration aside for he was focused on the stranger now because he knew that things had taken a turn for the worse.

"What the hell are you smiling at punkass?" the stranger continued as he pulled his shoulders back and clenched his fists in a rage" He continued to yell as he started to lean over the man sitting; "Who do you think you are man! I should teach you a valuable life lesson here you fucking punk ass bitch! You are nothin' man! nothin'......."

The man sitting can't hear any of the stranger's words anymore. He has tuned him out. He isn't even looking into the stranger's face any longer. He is staring at the strangers shoulders and for the green light. He can't really hear anything except his own heartbeat in his ears and things are slowing down as he feels adrenalin surge through is veins. He thinks now because it's what he must do. He needs to make sure he has done all he can do to avoid the fight, because his actions must be seen as a last resort. He can't stand up now because he has already planned out his counter.

Here are his thoughts as he remembers them; -- "Are you the one? I have been waiting for you all my life. I knew you would come for me but not in front of my future wife and not in front of my daughter. If it were just you and I it would have been over by now but I need to be a good man. I need to demonstrate restraint and give your drunk ass the benefit of a doubt. I got folks who depend on me and I need to be there for them...you are not making it easy by standing over me, getting more and more agitated as I continue to smile. I think that is what is really pissing you off isn't it? You have no idea as to what I'm thinking right now do you? I know you missed the blade under my crossed arms and it's already locked in on your pulsing jugular. Your anger and stupidity is making me uneasy and I have already rehearsed how it's going down at least 3 times over the past 5 seconds. You know nothing about me but I know everything I need to know about you. I'm more alive right now than I have been for awhile...there is a part of me which savors this, and another that is in fear. Not the fear you think may be going on in my head. Fear of what happens after it goes down. How will the rest of my life be once this is over? Will I spend the rest of my days in prison? I can accept that I guess. There is only one way to find out. I have given you every opportunity to walk away but you won't. I have warned you to back off but you won't. I pray some sense comes to your head before it's too late. I can't afford to let you get back up. There is no way in hell that my daughter and my wife is going to see me go down at your hands...just know this with all certainty for there is no doubt in my mind that I'll be the one walking away from this...I'm that sure of myself. Why, because I have already been right here a thousand times in my head. I have trained for this one moment for a long, long time. What happens next is all on you. You are the one who is calling the shots here...have no doubt of that friend. Nothing that happens here is on me at all, except maybe the fact that I was not going to let you disrespect my wife or my daughter and called you out on it.........I'm at peace now. I can do what needs to be done without restraint. Damn! I dunno why but I like being here...why?--"

His thoughts are interrupted by another woman who has just shown up on the scene. She is the old lady of the stranger.

She starts to franticly speak; "No! I'm so sorry! We had a fight and he is just drunk. I apologize for him. He doesn't know what he is doing. Please, I'm sorry...."

The woman takes the arm of the stranger and leads him down the street. He is still yelling at this point, but at least he is on his way. In the morning he won't even remember that he was literally only a few seconds away a serious hurt...or even worse.

The man, still sitting, looks up at his daughter and future wife and says; "I'm sorry you had to see that. I feel like a pussy right now for putting up with all that but I didn't want anything to happen to either of you. I also didn't want you to see me at my worst unless there is no other option."

The frightened daughter says; "Dad, you did the right thing...I'm proud of you. I think I was more scared for that asshole than I was for myself or you."

As the man looks down at his feet and takes a deep breath, his fiancee strokes his hair with her fingers and says; "This is why I love you. I'm not afraid when I'm with you. You are a good man. You did the right thing honey."

He finally stands up. He is not sure what to feel. He is confused.

"Ok...I think it's time to leave. Let's go home." the man says as he smiles at the two women. They give each other a hug and start the walk home.

The man has once again dodged another bullet, but not sure if he is happy about it...that is the only confusing thing about the whole encounter to him, yup...the only thing.

_________________________________________________________________

Well folks...the man in the story was me a several weeks ago. I wasn't going to share this but it's still bothering me. 50% of me is humiliated. The other 50% knows I did right. Part of me wanted to stick him in the neck...it was only seconds away. The same part of me really wanted to bash his face into the pavement, over and over and over. The other part of me figured he wasn't worth it and that I should save "the one moment" for someone more worthy.

I have to admit. I lost something that night, but...I guess I also gained something...I'm just not sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Sometimes I feel like I pussed out. Sometimes I feel like I kicked ass for good folks. Seriously this whole deal messes with my head. I guess it's just the constant struggle of good and evil in every man. I have been mad at myself for not popping off on the dude. Then I feel like I did the right thing. Then I feel like I would have been mad at myself for not maintaining control of myself. Can't a brother win in this damned world? ahhhh...I guess that is what makes being alive so exciting.

All I know is it hurts sometimes doing the right thing...yeah, sometimes it just hurts. I guess I dodged being Ass-imilated. I suppose that's a good thing right?

p.s. (Hagrid in AZ has that knife now. Don't worry bro...it's clean, heh.)

In Case You Didn't Know Yet

2010-09-14T12:04:00.001-07:00

BigD (Caveman) has gone into surgery on his spine as of yesterday. Apparently he came out of it ok and is in recovery. I am a believer in the healing power of the mind so all of you need to put your mental two cents into the collection plate to make sure he get back out on the asphalt.

I figured a naked nymph would make him feel better, but there just were not too many around at work, so I had to share our "Wrench Wench" until he is in a state where he can partake in the lovely "Boston" experience again.

Every time we work on the bikes we bring out the "Wrench Wench"...she's sorta' a good luck charm that keeps "extra" bolts and nuts from showing up. We figured she would work great as a proxy for BigD in this case.

Check it out D! WillyD is getting her all ready for yah when you are up and kickin' again! (I know, I know...just something wrong with this, but did you really expect anything less from us?)

Best wishes Brother. Don't know what we can do but I'll do what I can. Get to full strength soon 'cause we have more ass-phalt to kick...lots of it.

No More Ass?

2010-09-10T12:27:00.001-07:00

So I'm sitting here writing about my honeymoon run and the "Micro-Sturgis" run, but something else has come to the front of my mind, well, what I have left of it anyway.

I decided to hold off long enough to get something out here. That something is a comment that I have been hearing over and over since I got hitched; "Just wait Dave...you'll see...sex is over man! Once you tie the knot your johnson gets a knot tied in it as well."

I have more than a few friends. Two thirds of 'em are always complaining about how they are not getting laid enough. Interestingly enough, the two thirds that are getting agro about this subject are not bikers. I don't hear any of my two wheeled brothers complaining about this. It got me thinkin'. (brrrrffffttt...don't be shocked! Hell yeah I actually think sometimes!...especially when it comes to important things like sex.)

So I figured I would just blurt out what I have been thinking about regarding this crap. NO, there is no trouble in paradise and this has nothing to do with me with the exception that I have way too much time to think about crap like this. Here are my worthless thoughts on the matter;

For the Brothers; I know all of you have a friend who only blows into town when he needs something. You never see this dude unless there is something wrong or he wants something from you. When you could use a hand this same guy is never around or available. Doesn't that just chap your f'in hide!?! When you see this "friend" swaggering down the pavement all you can do it think; "Oh shit...I wonder what happened now. I know he's gonna' hit me up for something here." After awhile you realize that you ain't gonna' help him out anymore because the whole damned universe is all about him. You might help him out once in awhile but even when you do it's half assed because you are feelin' like a sucker.

Ok, here it comes...

How do you think your woman feels when you swagger into town expecting her to lay down and spread'em. Are you making the connection here? Remember when you first met the lady? Hell, you were doing all sorts of things to make her feel beautiful, special and sexy. You were taking her places just because. (ok, ok...the because had something to do with gettin' in her pants, but whatever, you fell in love regardless.) You tried to impress her with little surprises. What the fuck happened? I dunno...only you do. Keep in mind that your lady is a mom, a sister, a daughter. She is still a little girl at heart who has only gone pro. Try and see the girl and you will get all the woman you can handle man!!! You want your woman to be all she can be? Then cater to all the facets of your diamond and she'll sparkle and blow your mind...as well as some other things. Oh yeah...going down on your lady goes a long way too...Just sayin'. Why should a dude expect head if he isn't going to return the favor. I just don't get that.

For The Sisters; Guys want ass. Simple right? Nope...at least that is not what I have peeped out for the last 43 years. Guys are like little bitches and need to be coddled and stroked. I don't care how bad-ass they are. A man wants to feel like a man and wants to take control, but sometimes he just wants to relax and enjoy the ride. If he feels like he always has to initiate sex he is gonna start looking for some other chick who "really wants him bad!"

"Oh, I suppose he has been nice...maybe I'll put out tonight?"

WRONG! WRONG! WRONG! Stop using sex as a tool to get what you want...it takes all the joy out of it. Fuck the reward system because you are gonna' lose him eventually. No man likes to feel like a damned dog and that is what you are making him. If you ladies get your damned head out of the reward system and focus on showing your man what turns you out...then you both are gonna' be satisfied. You are gonna' want to rip his clothes off and get down and dirty! Do whatever if takes to get out of the pavlov's dog deal.

Show your man what you want. If he is a man then he won't get all butt hurt about the pointers. Uhh....dudes like fantasy. You're man knows you aren't a slutty whore...he just wants you to be for him. Damn! it's easy man!

For Both; Bec and I talk about this. She tries to stay in shape for three reasons; 1) She wants to feel good about herself. 2) She wants to stay smokin' hot as long as she can and stay in good health . 3) She wants me to feel good about showing her off. (What's wrong with that?) If she is going to do that then I know sure as shit that she appreciates it when I do the same. A dude who lets himself go has no right to bitch about his woman letting herself go. If both of you are happy letting yourself go then you have no problem now do you. I'm not saying physical appearance is where it's at but why not try to be the best you possibly can at any age or disability, seriously...why not? I guess what I'm trying to really point out is "What's good for the gander is good for the goose."...which brings me to my next thought.

In my almost humble opinion, the biggest thing is DO NOT mistake sex for love. They are two completely different deals. I'll love my woman whether she can put out or not. I love who she is and how she treats me. I love how she cares for me and how she looks at me. I love the sacrifices she makes for me. I make damn sure that she knows all of this with words and then back it up with action. She, just knowing that I feel this way about her, has the SECURITY of knowing that I'm gonna' be as true as she needs me to be...It also makes her WANT to rock my world!

Well, I hate to be the "Martha Stewart" of motorcycles but it's just my opinion here. Everybody is different and that's all I really know...I'm not a complete idiot, but put all the other bullshit aside and you find this crap I mouthed at the core of most of it.

People just need to stop thinking about their own damned self so much...that would solve alot of the issues. Make a woman, or a man, feel good about themselves and they will make you feel good...in more ways than one.

So, don't ask what this has to do with bikes, bikers or whatever. I don't give a shit what anyone says; Bikers are just people and they have the same problems as everyone else running around here. We just tend to deal with it all differently. Maybe we are close knit bunch because we know we need to help each other solve our own problems without asking for anyone else's help. (Whoa! That last sentance confused me as well. Kinda' makes sense when you get over being confused.)

I Went To Church At Micro-Sturgis!

2010-09-07T19:42:00.001-07:00

As some of you have read here, I have been bummed that I was not able to make my dream Sturgis run this year. Yeah, I know another one of my dreams, getting hitched to B.B., was realized but our dreams of making Sturgis fell through for a few good reasons. Can't have it all I guess...

Well...I'm pleased to inform all of you I made my Sturgis trip this year! Hell yeah I did! Well, not really Sturgis but just as good.

I got to sleep out on the road! I got to see some awesome sights! I ran wild for 1500 miles in temps from 42 to 115. I got wet, stuffed, fluffed, blazed, petted, snapped, baked, verbally assaulted and assaulted verbally. Hell, I even shit a smurf one day on the trip.

My ride season is complete. (Even though there really isn't a ride season for me.) I'll be satisfied for at least a few weeks here...no doubt.

"Dave...what the hell are you ranting about?" you are wondering?

Wonder no more! I finally made it to the Wizards house and he indeed did give me a peace of mind! Man...I'm so relaxed that I feel like my balls are going to drop off and roll out the pant leg of my ratty jeans. I guess what I'm trying to get at here is I made it to Boston's B-Day bash! (Thank you great road Gods...thank you!)

Sometime here in the next week you will get the run story. I'm gonna' leave the B-Day bash out of it. That's Boston's day. If she wants to talk about it she will.

Church? I'm a believer. Why? Because CaveMan and Boston love their brothers and sisters. Don't worry if you are confused, it will all make sense after I'm done scribing. It's a pure love. They take care of each other and I dig that.

Micro-Sturgis? That is my new name for Caveman's and Boston's home-20. Hell, I hope I can make it to "Micro-Sturgis" every year. There ain't nothing at Sturgis that I didn't experience at Micro-Sturgis...nothin'.

Now...if they could only move the Black Hills over to AZ...then I could say, "Screw Sturgis! I'm on my way to Micro-Sturgis suckers! Why?...because Mama said!"

Random Shots

2010-09-01T19:41:00.001-07:00

I'll just let the snaps do the talk'in.

AZ Rain Forest

2010-08-29T12:42:00.002-07:00

A chunk of my Havasu-Parker 8 post.

"An hour or two later I was awakened; "Son of a bitch! I'm gonna blow that f'in tree right out of the ground and stomp every one of those little bastards if they don't shut the hell up!"

I don't know who out there in the camp said that, but I was in full agreement. First off, I can sleep anyplace, and I do mean anyplace. I'm immune to most noise and even the sound of eighteen wheelers thundering by won't bother me. As a matter of fact, I'm kinda sweet on the sound of trucks...it all stems back to fond childhood memories and a certain Wagon Wheel Motel. However, the sounds that I was subjected to at that moment, I can honestly say, I have not experienced in my lifetime thus far.

Remember that tree I was talking about earlier in the story? Well, it seems that every damned bird in the entire state of AZ decided to roost in that tree...the tree that was right over my head. This tree will be forever etched in my mind as the "Arizona Rain Forest". It was so loud, and so obnoxious that even a die hard Ornithologist would be ready to 12-gauge these little bastards. The worst part is that it never stopped...not even for a second, for the remainder of the time we were there. Now that I think about it...I wonder if the management just routed a recording of the Amazon Jungle through a loudspeaker they had rigged in that tree. It was just simply that unreal. It would be an awesome way to get unruly campers to pack it in and leave."

So...I took this vid as I was laying on my backside, in my sleeping bag...aka "Bird Shit Forcefield", just so all of you could experience this natural wonder.

HEY! Make sure your sound volume is up...and no, there was not editing done to this vid...it's pure and untouched. Halfway through is the best (most annoying) part of the vid. I have been able to identify 3 of the culprits, but I have no idea as to how many different types of feathered little bastards were up there...Maybe someone out there who is into feathered bastards can figure out what types were up there in that tree.

So...if you and I ever get to road trip together...don't let WillyD or I pick the camping spot...If you don't believe me just ask BigD or Boston.