Big Daddy's Idle Thoughts

Pack Riding.

2012-01-15T11:18:00.002-07:00

I just got back from a huge run for a local dealership with 'Celebrities' Dan Hagertey, Barry Carroway...Etc
It was the 'Rub' Crowd.
Scary as hell....3/4's of the jackasses riding couldn't hold their own.
Wobbling, weaving, slow speed near misses..redlight slides..almost hitting parked bikes..[Mine] I'd could go on but since your reading this I imagine you've seen plenty of what I'm describing.
We have all heard the rants about cagers 'Not respecting our right of way'
This is True.
But just as many go down due to their own stupidity or inexperience.
I have never been one to 'claim' riding expertise.
I let others speak to my abilities.
BUT....
This time I gotta speak up.

So you bought a bike....Good for you.
You overcame the fear and grew a pair and learned to ride.
Got your license and leathers..and are gonna be part of this 'Biker community'
Welcome aboard!!
Life just got infinitely more exciting for you.
However there's plenty of excitement in this life to go around.
Barely making it because of shitty riders shouldn't be part of it.

You know that new hire at your work...who thinks he knows everything and don't know shit??
Guess what?
That's you.
Ohh that's right, Not you.....you obviously are smarter than the average bear.
Nope, You ain't.
All of us 'Roadtramps' paid our dues to earn that name.
It didn't happen overnight.
The best ones took the advice of Scootertrash and observed...and observed and emulated...and still do.
Day in day out....still watching and learning.

I personally have worn bikes out with many many miles.
Many at an excessive rate of speed.
Not safe?
Probably not...Yet I have had many a rider along side wheel to wheel hauling ass.
And both of us felt safer than sitting in our living room chair.
When it's done right....It's artistry, synchronicity almost religious in feeling.

Want to ride like that??
Perhaps not. And that's fine.
But you should try to ride good enough to be able to.
You will end up at some point riding pack...it's damn near inevitable.
Small or large, doesn't matter.

The building blocks of a good rider are surprisingly simple.
They really are.

Try this.
When riding always ride like you're in a pack...always.
I don't care if your in Death Valley and are the only bike for a hundred miles.
Always, always ride pack style.
How?

One foot from the line.
Simple,that's it.
One foot.
One foot left if you ride right side.
One foot right if you ride lead left.
That's your line...period.
Always ride that fine line.
ALWAYS.
Get used to it so it becomes habit.
And in doing so, you have taught yourself not to wobble.
When turning...stay in that line.
Left side turns tight into that line.
And right side stays out in theirs.
Right doesn't cut in font of the lefts line and always swings wide enough for left to clear.
Left does not swing wide and push right out of his/her lane.
Simple no?
You'd be amazed at how often this simple rule gets ignored.
Always expect it to happen...even with experienced riders.
Nobody's perfect.
Always watch your partner.
Riding 'Outlaw'
Stay wheel to wheel.
Not just a little behind or ahead.
There is a blind spot.
If your front wheel is even with my engine, you have vanished.
I look left and no bike....I look in my mirror..no bike.
Your gone....Now I'm looking everywhere for you...WTF where the hell did he go?
He was just here a sec ago.
I roll off throttle and lo and behold there you are.
This is seriously bad.
While my attention is momentarily diverted looking for you and not focusing on my 'line'
Remember...one foot.
It takes constant vigilance to maintain.
As it should be.
It keeps you alert and aware at all times.

Note.
"I don't ride Outlaw I ride staggered because my Hog riding book says so"
Bullshit.
If this is how you feel comfortable riding, Then ride there far enough back so I can see you in my Mirror.
However...
It's a false security.
At the average speed of 60 you're only milliseconds behind and that old chestnut of 'Room to maneuver' is deadly.
You didn't see what made me swerve right as I am most likely blocking your view of the obstruction anyway.
Following behind at a 'respectable distance still ain't gonna give you enough reaction time.
Seen it happen time and time again.
Outlaw?
We both see the Object at the same time and both instinctively swerve right in unison.
Perfect...No.
But better than the other way and if you wanted safe...buy a Segway.
Also how many times have you been in a hurry in your car to turn left...wait for the car in the left lane to pass and gun it across lanes to get in.
We have all done it..Don't even try denying it.
And after the car went by...oops there is a car/Bike just behind in the right lane.
Luckily you were paying attention... could have been a helluva wreck..Whew!!
This is actually where a lot of left turn cagers meet bikes
They didn't see you..they couldn't.
Try this.
Go to your hallway,stand on the right.
Have your spouse stand a few feet down the hall facing you on the left near the middle.
Have someone else stand just behind them closer to the wall.
Can't see them can you?
Your spouse is blocking your view.
Always try to match the traffic going through an intersection, don't be just behind them.
Following traffic.
If your partner is riding a few feet back...Throttle off and stay along side.
Don't ride ahead even just a few feet.
Kinda gives you pause on the whole staggered thing don't it?
And in a pack... staggered spreads the line out so far you have idiots racing to catch up..and as you'll note the novice riders tend to congregate back there...recipe for disaster.
I have seen too many riders overtrust the braking ability of themselves and the bike.
Happens more than you think.
A excellent riding Buddy of mine was guilty of this from time to time.
He finally tagged a car and went down.
He was almost stopped when he hit so no damage of consequence..except his pride.
Yet just three little feet back.....never would have happened. 3 feet.
Your table that you're sitting at probably ain't that wide.

Is this all? No, not by a long shot.
But do these things and practice braking, downshifting, situation awareness,tight turning.
Watch the "Scootertramps" around you and learn.
Ask them for advice.
I'll have far more respect for you than if you try to fake it.
You can't..Trust me.
We can tell.
But if you do these Simple things,Perhaps you'll someday overhear.....
Man, That fucker can RIDE!
Trust me...ain't no sweeter words ever uttered than that.

TAINT JUST PAINT!

2011-07-04T02:19:00.003-07:00

Here it is....First "real paint" Job in thirty years.
Hugger Orange base,
Airbrushed candy tangerine and pagan gold scallops,
Another set overlaid and past the lines 'Ghost Scallops',,,in gold prismatic clear.
Shot over with three coats clear.
The back fender is done the same with the exception of the prism gold sprayed on all the fender,
Hand sanded to a high gloss and no ridges between coats felt.
Smooth as Glass.

The flash kept changing the reflection.
Think the OL'Man's still got it???

Arizona...Another Epic Trail III....THE REBUTTAL

2011-06-23T02:13:00.003-07:00

I don't know why I feel the need to post this, Since no one is reading this drivel anyway.
My fault entirely....I haven't been writing as much as I should be.
I got tales of Jolly ol'England and the motorcycle museum there.
Tales of Mayan temples and travels to ice cold Cenotes.
I got road tales aplenty...and reasons for the recent leave of absence from B.A.C.A.
But first I must address the post of Viking Dave on his Blog.

Lies,Lies and sheer fabrications almost too many to list.
But...I'll try.

Here's the true tale as it happened.......

My wife and I planned a nice little happening at our humble residence.
Good chat, sweet teas and healthy food choices.
It was to be truly grand!!

We set up the chairs around our wicker-esque lawn table.
The sun was a bit bright to our sensitive eyes.
I proceeded to gain a lovely parasol to shield my demure wife and companions.

When from the street arose quite a ruckus..

Two evil heathens astride their rip-snortin iron stallions arrived.
We thought the final horsemen had arrived...[minus two...but anyhoo on with the story]

Pulling into my driveway the almost knocked over several of the quaint Vespas my homies and I toodle around on.
[The evil ones were heard to say nice Bike's... obviously sarcastically]

Distressed to near faint...Danny and the boys ran to the safety of our women.
Laughing aloud the Salina's devils dismounted.
I grabbed that parosol right quick and attempted to put the fear of our lord into those jackals.

Unfortunately it opened and a gust of wind nearly tossed me to the netherworld.
[Now here is another fable told by that Evil Dave...it wasn't a "big canopy of 15 by thirty]
Quickly yelling for help my pally Gunther..[Gunny?....how vile a name...fabler]
He quickly bounded over to rescue me.
In the process we lost the nice lace around the edges of my Parosol...I was visibly distressed.
However using the neckerchief from my pet duck Afflac I was able to tie it to the table to be of some purpose still. [This that unfeeling callous man from edges of purgatory insulted my valued pet and it's trimmings by calling it "duct tape" tsk ,tsk,,imagine]

Well, you can sure imagine our consternation at this point.
Kevin,our deacon-like nieghbor tried to calm us down by leading us all in song around the table.
Attempting to get us in a sweet chorus of spiffy Pat Boone songs.....[Yes I know it's racy stuff but it's a party afterall and our usual rendition of Bing Crosby classics didn't seem to fit the venue]

But...It wasn't to be.
Those henchman from fogtown cranked up a stereo with Un-seemingly "music" from devil bands like AC/DC ,Zepplin,Allman bros and the like.

I was shaken to the core. I had to put my feet in my 1 gallon footbath with jasmine and salts. {described in the nasty ones post as a Hot Tub...hmmph! how obtuse!...next thing you know he'll try to claim I was in with naked women partaking of spirits! I say again...FABLER]

Later I attempted to go for help from the local parish.
I grabbed my trusty moped and revved it up.
Alas, it was to no avail.
The evil one Dave passed a noxious cloud of stench and sound emanating from his buttocks region that it blew the chair clear across my shop and thereby choking my hapless engine off....[The chair which was a lovely shade of off-white is now irrevocably stained a brownish bright orange...look above or come on by, I'll show you the proof]

Then grabbing a funnel and tubing from my workbench they poured devil's brew down my unsuspecting guest's throats.

This Vile ,Vile Vulgar display of heathen-ness went on well into the night.
My poor demure wife was chagrined to no end.
[again over there...he described her as "forceful" and other things]

The next day..We thought arrmeggedon had truly come to pass...there were bodies scattered everywhere.

I think Pastor Hagrid will no longer allow us at the hymnals.
Tis' truly a shame as it was no fault of our own.

So now you know the true tale....But,,,,,keep aware.

The Evil ones say they are returning.....[Shudder!]

Choices

2011-06-21T14:27:00.001-07:00

Slipping his boot under the primary and kicking out the side stand. Beowulf leaned back and let his head rest on the sissy bar pad. stretching his dusty boots over the handlebars he reached into his vest for a lighter and a smoke. A momentary flame flashed in the darkness and settled into a glowing ember. Folding his arms across his chest he gazed out over the valley below.

The flickering lights in the darkness were covering the entire horizon. looking up to the night sky the stars reflected the scene below almost seamlessly.

The last time Beowulf sat on this overlook the amber glow of streetlights and few ranch house lights could be counted in the fingers of one hand.

Flicking his smoke out over the cliffs edge.
Beowulf announced quietly to the crisp air
" It's time"

Kicking the old 56 panhead to life and letting it settle to rhythmic idle, he pulled the clutch lever, snicked into gear and rode down the long twisting road down into town

Beowulf brought the pan to a stop in front of the old town square. Turning the key brought an abrupt silence that echoed the solitude.

Feeling a little like he had stepped into old Twilight Zone episode Beowulf half expected Rod Serling to appear and start narrating the scene. Walking over to the memorial of the fallen war dead he thought about the many people he 'd known over the years who had passed. No monument on the square remembered them. all those lives had faded to infinity except in the Psyche of those who once knew them.

Many had held out for so long doing the 'Right thing' and most often they would rebel later in life having what most termed a midlife crisis. Beowulf saw that when they did..it was almost always the same. people try to get back to where they once had been, full of adventure and taking chances the straights never could. They always said the same cliche. 'I'm getting my life back'

Often with disastrous results, family's torn apart, lives work ruined.But in rare cases freedom of soul had been reborn and a life becomes more then the sum of it's parts. Many follow the path that had been their first love. Get a bike a join a brotherhood that really does care for it's own.

Others too constrained to change end up broken and dejected.
And end up shuffling through life waiting for the end. This ,still is considered being honorable. fall in line and the rewards will soon follow, just discard those silly childhood notions of freedom. They don't get you ahead in life.

From where Beowulf stood he didn't see much living going on, just a lot of folks being slowly crushed to obscurity.

None of what he saw in town was "Life', just motions.

Getting back on the pan he fired her life and rolled to long overdue meeting he had arrived in town for.

Rolling up the old homestead Beowulf saw his father sitting on the same porch chair he had been in thirty years ago when He'd had the fight with his old man and left for good.

' Hello son' spoke the grizzled old man. 'I'm glad you decided to come when I called, you were not a easy man to find'

'I got the message Pop. All you had to do was call the right people, they always know where I am. They always have my back'

The old man just stared at Beowulf as if to peel away the years. 'I called you here to apologize'

'For what? replied Beowulf.

'For misjudging you all those years ago.' I looked back over my life and re-assessed my priority's, and I see that they were misguided.

I wasn't living a well lived life, I was going through the motions and I finally understand the child can teach the father. You had it right all along. Be true to yourself before you can be true to others.

'What brought about this sudden change of Heart?'

'I have witnessed a crime. One I have seen all my life and yet never really saw. I find I am guilty of it also'

'What the hell are you rambling on about? Beowulf responded while thinking maybe the old man had finally lost his senses.

'I'm talking about the theft if innocence,wonder and imagination. Too many young ones lose theirs far too early. Some to abuse mental and pyhsical. others lose to crushed dreams. I never understood till now in my autumn years why you fought so hard to resist conformity. I finally understand.

Is it too late to repair the damage I've done in our relationship Son?

Beowulf studied the old man for a while. he found he could read the honest simple sincerity in the worn weather beaten furrows of his face.

Mounting the steps to the porch Beowulf reached for the adjioning chair and responded

'Dad, Pop open a couple of cold ones, We got some years to get back'.

Happy Fathers Day Lief H Nelson.
Glad we were finally able to get those memories back.

Big Daddy Caveman.

Bikes Update

2011-04-25T20:52:00.008-07:00

It's been a while since I've posted...Been Busy,Busy,Busy.

Mama's white police bike?

Sold it to a Brother named Kevin.

Worked it over from axle to axle and had it painted..

Can you even tell it was a cop bike at one time?

How about my old triumph chopper from back in the day...

Sold that to Luigi.{Weege].

Just buttoning that build up now.

Ain't crazy about the paint scheme,,,But She's a badass looking Chop ain't it.

The Duoglide?

Well she got a new S&S oil pump and some rewiring....Sanded the tins they are in primer getting ready for paint

Mama's new bike? The tins were sent out for new paint.

Pictures when it's done.

My 64 triumph..I'm polishing the motor and rebuilding whats needed before stripping it for paint.

The Shovel...Engines out and the rods were shot..needs a rebuild

The cases on this...I'm gonna try a different approach..if it works,,,,,It'll blow your mind when done...and of course I have to paint that also.

With the Exception of Mama's bike...I will be dusting off my 30 year old paint skills and see if I can still pull it off....Stay tuned.

Wanted, Extraction team!!

2011-04-04T22:59:00.002-07:00

This year has so far been berry berry good to the Caveman.

I recently was able to double my motorcycle library ....[If you ever saw it originally,you'd know what a job that was].

I got books on Harleys,Triumphs, Vincents..etc.

Books on painting,metal shaping,garages,tools etc....

Stories on factory workers,Cross continent riders,Biker tales...Etc.

Also a signed Easyrider photo, By Fonda and Hopper...in a frame.

Then theres the shop...

I got a 64 Bonneville bobber with magneto ignition,,was a show bike in 68 or so, rough but completely salvageable...for a grand!

Momma,[Boston] got a Kickass 97 road king.

I got a 63 duo-glide... After-market frame...FXE 4 speed kicker and electric,Sturgis beltdrive primary,awesome chrome and new tires........Oh yea..it's got a 95 Evo motor stuffed in there that has for all appearances never been run.......For 3 grand!!!

Now this is enough to require a professional extraction team to remove Willy D from my shop once he gets here and see's it all.

He'll never leave..We'll have to send his family letters concerning his sudden absence.

Letters from Caveman Camp..

Dear Wifey.

I've retired in Azhole performances Garage....

You get the Idea.

It Gets worse....

A 72 FlH with......

A Popup Bike camping trailer..With Title.

A Box of brand new NOS dual plug heads and rocker boxes,4 sets of valves and keepers etc.

010 over barrels with the stock Crank and rods.

Why the extra parts?...Well........

The motor is a....wait for it.........

93 cubic inch S&S stroker with sidewinder barrels, STD stage 4 heads with compression releases.[needed]

Edelbrock quicksilver carb.

Crane ignition.

5 bolt clutch with rivera discs.

6 gallon fatbobs.

All for ,,,,,,,,,,,2500 with Title.

You now understand..

He'll never leave here again.

Brothers

2010-06-23T12:57:00.013-07:00

Insistent chiming stirred Roach to semiconsciousness. Reaching out to stop the annoying sound, he felt a pair of legs wrapped around his torso. Still half asleep he tossed last nights fender bunny off his leg while reaching for the damn phone on the nightstand, knocking his whiskey bottle to the floor, finally grabbing hold of the offending item. He pulled it to his ear, and grouchily mumbled, "What?" After listening for a few minutes, Roach growled, "No problem Bro."

He slammed the phone back on the receiver while exiting the bed. He turned and shook the perky little redhead awake, "You gotta get up and scoot on home. I got things to do." The tone of his voice told her it wasn't a request. She jumped out of the bed and grabbed her things while dressing on the run and exited the house without saying a word.

Groggily he stepped into the bathroom and fumbled around the sink, bottles fell and clattered to the floor. A large powder container dislodged itself in a semi-arc hitting Roach squarely in his crotch, nearly causing Roach to double over holding his jewels. "Son of a bitch!"

Slapping the faucet handle to wash the resulting white cake off his hands, he bent the silver ring on his finger. He pulled his hand toward his face to see what was pinching his finger and stepped back onto a stray bottle on the floor, launching him into the nearby tub. The resulting pressure on the shower curtain caused the plastic holders to snap one by one until the whole rod and curtain crashed down on his head. Roach ripped the ring off his finger and threw it out in anger. The bathroom mirror shattered.

Extricating himself out of the tub Roach reached the door jamb and exited. Staggering down the hallway while pulling his jeans on, Roach bumped his shoulder in the door jamb muttering to himself, "Goddammit!" He pulled his boot on while hopping one-legged and smacked his other shoulder on the kitchen counter, "Fuuucck!" Yanking his vest off the kitchen chair caused it to fall over and crash to the floor.

Thoroughly agitated Roach kicked open the door to the garage, embedding the handle in the wall. Slapping the garage door button caused the overhead lights to flash on, illuminating the well-worn knucklehead marking its spot on the floor. The screeching chain overhead dragged the garage door open. Roach threw a leg over and shoved the kick-start down twice before turning the ignition switch on. Another kick resulted in a loud bang resounding through the shop knocking tools and cans off the shelf before the knuckle settled into its familiar loping idle. Kicking it into gear, releasing the clutch while twisting the throttle stood the bike up on its rear wheel while the engine bellowed out to the night air. Leaning hard to the right at the end of his driveway the rear tire broke loose for an instant, skipping sideways and grabbing traction the old knuckle squatted down and shot forward slamming Roach back and he found himself digging his clenched fingers into the grips to stay on the bike.

Kicking up the gears brought the speed to well over a hundred within a thousand feet of his house. Turning onto Main Street Roach hunkered down on the tank, rolled the throttle over to wide open and shot past the local gendarme patrolling the bakery parking lot. Looking in his rear view mirror Roach could see the cop toss his coffee and donut and race toward his cruiser.

"Aw, shit...here it comes." mumbled Roach.

Blue lights bounced off the storefronts gaining in intensity as Roach braked, sliding into a hard left turn onto Central Street. Another set of blues coming from the side street ahead told Roach his evening just got a whole lot more interesting. Turning a hard left down the next alley, Roach no sooner straightened upright when the front wheel struck an overturned garbage can. Trash flew up, struck his face and nearly knocked him off the bike.

Pawing the slop off his glasses while avoiding more obstacles, Roach aimed for narrow gap between the brick wall and an overfilled dumpster. Grinding the end caps off his hand grips the bars bent slightly inward as the knuckle shot loose. The screeching and clanging sounds from behind told him at least one cruiser was out of the nights festivities.

Down-shifting and throttling up Roach headed for the relative sanctuary of the nearby industrial park. Bubblegum blues gaining in intensity told the story, the boys in blue were still on his trail.

Aiming for the forklift ramp into the warehouse, Roach went airborne onto the loading dock, riding along knocking stacked pallets loose as the dockworkers scrambled to get out of his way. One worker in his haste ran in front of Roach for nearly thirty feet before tossing the box he had been carrying and diving headlong into a half empty trailer. Roach saw his longtime bro Shakey pointing in his direction and doubling over in laughter. Throwing a one-fingered salute Roach shouted, "You still owe me a beer, Fucker!" Shakey, too flustered from trying regain his breath, just smiled then responded with a single digit wave of his own, using the finger to activate the loading ramp ahead into the upright position. Roach went skyward off the ramp, clearing the chain-link fence into an open field.

Landing hard, Roach's legs flailed behind the knuckle as it bounced along trying to stay upright.

Distant fading blues signaled the fence had done it's job. Rapidly putting miles between himself and town, Roach settled in for the remaining ride to his destination.

Kicking through the gears, Roach became aware of a burning sensation from his seat, briefly pondering the cause. Roach's mind flashed back to the earlier bathroom fiasco, "The fucking bottle was Blue!" Realizing the significance of the bottle's color he suddenly stood on the bike's binders and brought the knuckle to a screeching halt alongside the nearby canal. He dropped the bike and jumped feet-first into the waters screaming, "God-damned medicated foot powder!" Waving water into his crotch to wash off the offending burning sensation only amplified the unpleasantness before finally providing cool relief.

Lying along-side the canal Roach loudly cursed the night air, "Un-fucking-believable!" Slowly getting up and uprighting the knuckle on it's side stand, Roach struggled to throw a water-soaked leg over the bike. After successfully smacking his leg on the sissy bar several times the deed was done. Kicking the knuckle to life, he tore out along the gravel heading for pavement arriving at his intended rendezvous point several miles later. The knuckle was silenced and Roach dragged a wind-dried stiff leg off his mount and shuffled along the pavement to a brother sitting nearby next to his scoot.

Reaching into his pocket, Roach procured a shiny new masterlink, handing it over. His Bro asked, "Any trouble?"

"No problem, Bro. No problem at all."

Blinding Illumination

2010-04-30T00:46:00.007-07:00

Schrade felt the gentle yet insistent tugging on his sleeve, instinctively glancing down he could discern the faint fuzzy outlines of a small child standing next to his hospital bed.

'Mister, would you like a piece of candy?'

Smiling gently Schrade answered 'No , But thank you very much for asking'

The young boy replied 'Your welcome. I hope you feel better soon'

The nurse standing nearby spoke up. 'you need to get back to your bed. Jimmy'

Another voice in the background apologized for her son's behavior.

Schrade could only reply 'No problem' and laid back onto his pillow.

Semi-blinded when a brick was tossed of an highway overpass, The shards of glass had pierced both eyes upon impact of the trucks windshield.

The emergency room doctor had flushed the blood and debris from his eyes and applied a topical solution. 'Your very fortunate, the retina and corneas have sustained minor lacerations, you won't be able to see very well if at all for the next few days...but there should be no lasting effects beyond that'.

Arrangements to stay at a local hotel to recover for a few days had been made and Schrade was discharged via cab to the location.

Rarely leaving the confines of his darkened room Schrade only ventured outside in the evenings low light to sit and relax outside his door for a smoke.

Avoiding any sort of brightness had been prescribed, considering the stakes of permanent loss of eyesight Schrade thought it prudent to follow the rules at least just in this instance.

Shapes and shadows had slowly began to coalesce and vision was returning, although hazy around the edges, he could at least ascertain familiar shapes.

Hearing several pairs of boots crossing the walkway in front of his room Schrade looked up and saw a group of bikers walking toward their motorcycles parked nearby. among the group a small voice spoke up, 'I hope your feeling better, Mister'

Recognizing the voice to be that of the little boy from the emergency room. Schrade answered 'I'm just fine Jimmy, thank you'

Schrade noticed that the group had instantly closed around the boy and quickened their step away from him.

One member stopped and giving Schrade a thorough look walked back toward where Schrade was sitting.

Standing silently keeping an eye on Schrade he waited till all the Bikers had mounted, fired up and rode off with the child safely perched on the back of one.

Pointing a meaty black gloved finger at Schrade he said in statement more so than question 'Your a Biker?'

Schrade looking up from his sitting position towards the hulking man gesturing at him.

glanced back own at his chest to see if with his fuzzy eyesight he had put on a Harley shirt that day. he just shrugged and replied 'Well, I've been called worse'

'How is it you know Jimmy?' the tone the man used told Schrade that his usual smart assed quip would likely not serve him well today.

'I don't really, he said hi to me when I was brought to the emergency room. I heard someone call him Jimmy when they administered to him.'

Softening his stance the biker motioned as if to ask to sit down in the chair nearby.

'Sorry Brother,I had to ask'

Waving him over to sit down Schrade asked 'What the hell's me being a biker got to do with anything..and why the inquisition?.

Pointing to a circular patch on his vest's backside he replied 'Read it. I'm a member of B.A.C.A.

Bikers against Child abuse, They call me Pirate'

Looking it over Schrade replied 'Who isn't against abuse..and what the hell's that got to do with me?'

'That boy who you just saw is one of our kids. were here to protect him, and yes most are against it...but few ever really try to do anything about it'. replied Pirate.

Schrade pondered the man's words for a moment drawing a slow careful breath he responded 'I'm not really sure why you think I needed to know this?'

Pirate looked over at Schrade and asked 'Do you have any kid's?'

'Yes I have four,back home with their grandparents

'I see your a long distance trucker' motioning to the rig parked at the rear of the motel parking lot.

'Yes'

Are they safe?

Schrade didn't like the tone this conversation seemed to be taking, leaned forward in his chair and fixing a hard stare at Pirate replied 'Yes, very much so'

'How very fortunate for them and you....not all children are that lucky'...But what if you could help the ones that are not?.

Schrade giving Pirate an incredulous look simply stated 'I'm one man..what the hell can I do to even begin to prevent abuse.

Pirate reached into his inner-vest pocket, retrieved a pamphlet. handing it to Schrade replied 'Alone...probably not a whole lot...but together with other like minded people, You can make a hell of a difference.'

'Like the boy I just saw? What happened to him?

'I could never discuss details of a particular child with you, only to say he is safe to tell his story now without fear.

'How so?'

We have therapist's on hand and we work with local CPS agent's to verify that's a legitimate case.

We will escort him to court safely and protect him from any reprisals for the suspected perp or his family'

'His family?...why would they want to hurt him?'

Pirate took a slow drag of his smoke leaned back and stated.' a lot of families feel betrayed when this is discovered within their family... sometimes even without realizing it, they tend to ostracize the child. We in effect, become the child's family.We don't pass judgement.That's for the courts to decide..we simply empower the child to speak his/her piece.'

What about divorces,marital custody battles,jealous spouse's how do you know your no just being called in to settle someones vendetta? Are you trying to tell people how to raise their kids?'

'No, we believe in discipline, but a stern caring parent and a abuser are two very different things.

That's why we only take documented case that are already in the system. We get our cases from CPS to help prevent such scenarios'.

Shrade looked at Pirate for a few silent minutes and reach over and shook his hand.

Thanks for the info...I'll look into it.

Pirate stood up smiled 'I have been always a fairly good judge of the measure of a man...I'll be seeing you around'.

Schrade Awakened the next morning with a mental clarity..some way, some how it was time to give up the long haul trucking and get back to a local route, He had a mission in mind. He was going to find a chapter of B.A.C.A nearby his hometown and get involved.

Opening the front door into the sunlight he could again see crystal clear...near and distant.

His minds eye had been clearly illuminated .

Blink of an Eye

2010-03-26T01:12:00.006-07:00

A local club of riding Friends woke up today to a gorgeous riding day.
Temperatures in the low eighties, slight breeze blowing,air crisp and clean.
Gathering at the designated meeting point proudly wearing their 'cuts' sporting Kruzers AZ upon their backs.
Brotherhood and camaraderie is their stated creed. Having a good day together is the mission.
Laughing, joking someone no doubt chided another for being a little late. another chimed in 'He can't help it...he had to get his wife's permission'.
Rolling out along Cave Creek road it felt good to be riding.....This is what it's all about.

Across town A man arrived at work..Just another day at the ol' grindstone.
Gotta make a living. bills to pay and all.
Awesome spring day, shame to be having to work today.
Perhaps this weekend a barbecue or a day just lounging around with family or Friends.
Just one more day till Friday and...

The riders rode leisurely up Cave Creek road as the leader goosed his engine just a little. smiling back at his Brother, challenging him just a little.
Further back in the pack a riders wife was making silly gestures causing the biker alongside to loose his composure and break out in audible fits of laughter.
Even further back in the pack another brothers chest swelled just a little with pride as he watched his close-knit group enjoying the hell out of this day....A few more miles and he'll buy them all a round at the Hideaway.
Rolling up to the stop sign behind a car, the packs energy was ready for some partying.
Great food and a cold one, this is gonna be a day for the books.

The worker fired up his truck. headed out of the yard to his destination.
Driving along his thoughts wandered just a little.
Routes, schedules and maybe a little thought to the upcoming weekend.
A slight bump in the road shook the log/manifest papers loose from his clipboard.
Reaching down to the right to retrieve the fallen papers,
His eyes looked to the floor for just an instant.

Somewhere in the this Valley tonight.
A group of close Friends will never laugh together again.
Three families are mourning the loss of their loved one.
Six more are desperately praying that the loved ones still in ICU will still be alive in the morning. Many strangers are sleeping fitfully..trying to not replay the days horrific sights in their minds eye.
And One man..sits with the knowledge that his life as he knew it has ended.
The years of nightmares, His probable multiple convictions for manslaugther.

How did all this happen so quickly?
Afterall,,,It was for just an instant...Right?
http://www.kpho.com/news/22956828/detail.html

Please, keep your eyes on the road and pay attention to your driving.

Where You Been?

2010-02-03T12:56:00.004-07:00

This is a question I have been getting a lot lately.

I'm still here.

I'm about a quarter of the way thru a new story......just can't seem to tell it like I want to yet.

I'll get there.

I have been working on bikes, Yard, House, etc..Doesn't leave much time for writing.

I just got a Shovelhead for Ann..It's a barn bike.

It has been sitting in various 'sheds' since 1987 or so..

From NY to AZ

It will be gone completely thru..axle to axle.

It is 85 percent there....everything is in various stages of dis assembly.

Since it's for Ann..I'm opting for closer to stock.

I might switch it over to Evo valves and lifters..and a better S%S oil pump.

However...

Depending on budget..

I might go whole "hog' with a four pounds lighter Evo crank.....tighter 40 over Flat-top pistons with a narrowed Squish band,.thunder cams, Redirected ports. and lowered barrels. 2 into 1 thunderheader. new ratio 1,2,and 3 gears. Perhaps an overdrive. Etc.

This would be in response to the challenge posted by Willy D on Ann's site..:]

Money allowing..This would be stone stock reliable...and eat Evos and Twin cams for lunch.

Decisions,Decisions Decisions....

Charitable Intentions

2009-12-17T10:31:00.003-07:00

I have a question and I hope one of my more knowledgeable readers can perhaps explain this to me.

If you have a business whatever it may be, the standard wisdom for all types is take your profits and reinvest them back into your inventory.
Buy more product to sell, or invest in new equipment for said purpose. Do not take those profits and use them for anything other than increasing business.

This is standard business 101, taught in any good class from Harvard to community college.

All in agreement so far?.

Here's my quandary.

A business here in AZ. [Which by all involved vehemently deny it is one] but let's go with our all knowing governments version and say it is. I personally don't agree with that...but let's for the sake of this argument say it's true.
According to the same government it is a "criminal organization" that deals in nefarious purposes.
Now this said organization took some of it's profits and bought a truckload of toys to give to children.
When they arrived to deliver the toys...They were denied access to giving the toys away.
????? WTF?
Well it seems the local law enforcement in it's wisdom decided to tell the charity 'Don't accept these toys..they are bought with criminal profits'.
Who loses out in this scenario?
The innocent children lose out on Christmas.
The 'Bad guys' will correctly now decide that since spending money on charity is a waste if time, put it back in inventory.
The 'product' they sell will not be diminished one fucking Iota by this denial.
They are not gonna close up shop and go away because....[Awww, they won't let us give stuff away]
The 'customers' don't buy from them because 'hey..they help kids'. They could give a shit less one way or the other.
OK...So far the kids lost...the 'criminals' kept more of their profits to buy more product and equipment..[being criminals...that would naturally mean more guns and such].
So who came out ahead here?
Law enforcement?
Most see it as making innocents pay for the wages of crime. The organization they are fighting actually gains in strength because they now have more money to continue their 'nefarious efforts' and actually close ranks among themselves , becoming a tighter group.
The LEO's now face a better equipped army against them, the public perception of them is diminished because they just made innocent children who are already down on their luck pay the price.
These kids will not remember why....Only that a 'Cop' prevented Christmas.
And will most likely in the future look on 'Cops' as assholes.
Showing LESS respect for the law,,not more.
So my question is......Just who the hell came out ahead in this scenario?

Finally..Pictures

2009-12-03T00:58:00.003-07:00

All three bikes are repaired and up and running.

And I finally found the damn camera cord. ;]

Modern 'Bike in Barn' story

2009-11-13T00:08:00.002-07:00

We've all heard the proverbial 'Bike in a barn ' story.
Bikers sit up and Pay rapt attention when one is told.
Hell, If it's a real good one we'll even push the chatty naked pole dancer outta the way just to hear it.
You might as well tell her right now...go back to the dressing room....Cos' your gonna love this one.

A 96 FLH in perfect condition found in a 'Barn'..Ok, it was a garage..who cares.
The owners manual and video had not even been opened yet.
Impressive, No?
OK, not really that impressive......You can find low mileage examples if you look hard enough.
Under 3000 miles..is that impressive? Quite rare...but not really unheard of.
So how about.......300 miles? Got your attention now don't I?
That's rare for a 13 year old bike....I don't care who you ask.

That's a cool fucking story period.

But...Wait!!!! There's more.

How about...a 96 S&S motored American eagle softail chopper with all the chrome and fancy color shifting paint job done by 5150 Paint and kustoms. [Around a 3500 dollar paint job]
And just for good measure..New Revtech heads and Barrels.
Kustom rims etc.
OH!! Before I forget.....275 actual miles. Yep, you read that right...275.

Now finding these two bikes with a combined mileage of 575...In the same 'barn'
The odds of hearing a story like this is pretty damn rare, Wouldn't you say?

I'll bet your saying 'Holy shit' , Now that's a great goddamn story.

Whoop's...I ain't done yet...;]

How about a 97 Honda Valkrie......The first year edition with the most horsepower.
In showroom condition.....which isn't that amazing....Since it also has only........325 miles.

All three from the same 'Barn' and all three are sitting happily in my shop as I write.
I need to clean the tanks and carb's ...fuel injectors,,oil changes, tires etc...

The current owner wants to ride the FLH and sell the other two
The original owner bought them as 'Investments' back in the day.
Then decided to give them to his son-in-law.
He then contacted a Friend of mine.
I 'm making green to fix em...and I get to ride them.
And I gotta cool post for my readers outta the deal.
Ain't life just grand...;]

PS...I will post pics when I find the damn camera cable to download,

Cane

2009-09-18T21:03:00.000-07:00

Cane's ears slowly stirred his consciousness into focus. The close quiet hum he was hearing to was alien to him. Slowly opening his eyes and peering into the subdued light. The blinking green numbers flashing on the monitor above his head brought the hazy memory of recent events to clarity.

'Aww, Shit...It wasn't a dream'.

Quiet laughter echoed from the room’s far corner, ’No, It was definitely real'

Cane strained his eyes to focus on the source.

The man speaking from the corner of the room stepped forward into view.

Cane looked to see a weather-beaten face shrouded in long flowing white hair and beard.

It took a few seconds for Cane to realize the vest and leathers the man wore were white.

'Who the hell are you?' Cane asked.

Again the old man laughed, leaning closer to Cane replied softly ’wrong place'

'What do you mean by that?

'I don't come from there'

Confused, Cane stared at the man quizzically and then mumbled 'Oh Shit'

Laughing even louder the old man quipped 'No, I ain't who your thinking' Waving his hands in the air, no robe and no scythe here'

'Then who are you?'

'Lets just say I'm a fan and have been for sometime.'

A Fan? Of what?

'Of you and what you do.'

'I'm not sure I understand'

'You are a good hearted man who strives to live each day honorably and care for your family and friends. Also what you do for kids....Well, let's put it this way, many talk about helping, you actually put yourself out there. For that, I try to keep an extra eye out for you'

Looking down at his body wrapped in bandages Cane muttered 'Good Job'

Smiling the Old man replied 'Yes, I think so'

'I was being sarcastic' If you were watching out for me...you kinda messed up' replied Cane

'I was a little busy at the time, so I did what I could

'Busy?

'Yes, busy. What you didn't see on your little flight was our friend with the scythe waiting in the street. He was so excited at having potential clients he didn't see me coming. I drop kicked his ass' and then barely had time to catch you and your wife in time for a softer landing. You try catching two at a time...let me know how well you do' chortled the old man.

'You did all that?' asked Cane.

'That and more, I have sent people with good hearts and advice to your side, though you don't always listen, I have even helped you out of a few close calls.....You haven't exactly helped make my job any easier.'

'Sorry'

'No need to apologize, I really didn't expect you too'.

'Now you’re confusing me'

'I don't have any hold on your free will. The same ability that sometimes hinders, also allows you to take the risk you do for children. They kind of go hand in hand..so to speak.'

'Why me?'

'Because I need you'

'You need me? How?'

I can't be everywhere at once; I need people like you to protect the little ones.

'I'm still not sure I understand...aren't you everywhere?

The old man responded laughing 'No, I'm not that guy either'

'Then who are you?'

'Lets just say I'm the "Bikers" aide and leave it at that.'

'Now I'm really confused, if you’re a "Bikers" aide what's that have to do with kids?'

'Since the entire world has free will, there are those who will abuse that privilege. You help to make sure that the little ones don't have theirs taken away. Some lead by your example will also become "Bikers" someday.

By looking out for you, I'm also looking out for them.'

'I won't be able to do much from here' said Cane gesturing at the room.

'As I stated before, you have good people surrounding you. They will keep the flame burning in your absence. Think of it this way, the best steel is forged slowly over fire. In time you will emerge from this stronger, sharper and more focused. When you wake tomorrow, you won't remember this talk we are having...But your soul will.

Cane noticed the old man was slowly receding back into the darkness of the room. Feeling the effects of the medication again he started to drift off to sleep. Before consciousness lost hold he heard the old man whisper.

'Rest up Bro', you still have a Lot to do'

Mystery Bike

2009-08-18T18:42:00.004-07:00

The Bike I was crying about..[because I thought he 'blew it up']
Is an EXTREMELY RARE......
1941 Indian Military Model 841.
Only a thousand were made...And all but one was shipped to CA for testing by the armed forces.

The 841 also came with several other new features, including shaft drive, a foot shift, hand clutch, hydraulic girder spring fork, rubber-mounted handlebars, a sprung rear hub and 8-inch drum brakes, all of which made it onto postwar Chiefs.E. Paul duPont, who controlled Indian, had so much faith in the 841 design that he got one for his own use. He rode it around the country, stopping to show dealers and friends, and had grand plans for turning the military 841 into a civilian tourer.But none of that was to be.Although Indian built more than 1,000 examples of the bike and put it through extensive testing in the desert of California, the military never adopted the machine for wartime use. The same was true of Harley’s BMW-like XA. Instead, the primary motorcycle used by American forces was the 750cc V-twin Harley WLA, augmented by Indian’s 500cc V-twin 741 and the 750cc 640B, basically a military version.

Most were deystoyed in testing or scrapped...Never intended for civilian use...As such very few examples exist today...and nearly all that are...are in museums.

When I saw the photo of a civilian owning one...I just about fell off my chair.

CRYING

2009-08-17T16:57:00.008-07:00

I know I haven't posted in a while. Just been busy with bikes and BACA events.
I really didn't have anything new to post since most of our day to day happenings are told on Ann's/Boston's blog...but whoo boy I got a doozy for ya today.....

I stopped by our BACA prez's house this morn to catch up and chat awhile.
He just retuned from a week long trip up in Utah visiting friends and family.
He found some old photos of his grandfather on his bikes just after WW2.

He tells me, "These are pic's of my gramps bikes; one he rode for years....and the other a Triumph.......THAT I BLEW UP."

The first pic was of a 1946 FL, quite rare today....But if you look hard enough you can still find em.....This pic with the windshield and accessories is no doubt the 'Road-going' bike as described.

The other...well, do your reasearch. Hint: American Wartime (it ain't no Triumph!)

I hope this isn't the bike he 'Blew up'........I'll cry for a month.

Postscript.......I had mis-heard....He 'blew up' the picture.......fate of the bike?....lost to time.

New Pinstripe

2009-07-27T12:52:00.003-07:00

At Too broke for Sturgis.
'Marie' Got some pretty new stripes.

Giving the finger

2009-07-22T01:59:00.008-07:00

OK, I have been asked to tell this true story more than once.
I usually cloak the truth in analogy's and writers privilege.
I was gonna do that with this one.....Screw it, you get the unaltered version today.
Because if I wrote as a story....You probably would think I was tweaking the details. The things that happened and were said.....Every line is true.
Even when you wouldn't think that people would be Asshole enough to say that.

One hot frigging summer day here in AZ. I pulled into the parking lot of my work and brought the 10 wheeler with a farmers yoke trailer to halt.
Why do I drive this Rig? Because of the double wishbone on the yoke.[picture a flatbed trailer with a y yoke in front of it. The front has a steel ring that goes into a farmers clip. like a ball hitch but less able to guide. The back of the yoke is also able to pivot the front wheels. So when backing up, they want to go in opposite directions] I'm the only one in the yard who can back the sucker up.
Which can come in real handy at some of the blind alleys and hollowed out construction jobs we do.

My good Friend who owns the 88 sporty you all know about..[I'm keeping his name private. From here on out we'll just call him 88]
Rolls up on his forklift and tells me we need the trailer down in the back lot.
I was already out and into my vest getting ready to leave on my bike [This is important later in the story]
OK no problem.
I swing it around and back down the alley in back and down the little hill next to the fence.
Every time I did this in the yard, someone would comment that it was amazing that I could do that. [25 years driving teaches you things ,,Go figure]
So this time it was 88 saying this as he was starting to unhook my trailer for me.
The tension of being on a downward angle from the truck had jammed the front yoke too tight to release.
Just as I said 'Don't put your hand near it' He did.
When two highly sprung blocks of steel slam together and your fingers are in the way?
Somebody is going to be minus a finger...and 88 was.
With a look of pure shock and pain He calmly said I just lost my finger.
Walkimg quickly but steady back to his forklift, wrapped his hand in a rag and drove to the office. So they could take him to the hospital.

Back at the truck, I manage to pry the jaws open on the trailer and retrieve the finger.
Drove my [now] disconnected truck like hell up to the office.
I run inside and tell the receptionist at the front desk. I need ice and a couple of bags.
She looks at me like it's the funniest thing she'd ever seen, and doesn't move an inch.
Placing my boot firmly against her desk and kicking it over a few feet fixed the humor problem...I had a bag of ice and another to cover the finger in less than thirty seconds.
As I was running out the front door she replied 'I'll get you fired for this'
I shot back a look that made it clear to her that right now, silence would be her best course of action.
She quickly shut the fuck up.
So jumping on 'Annabelle and firing her to duty, I placed the bag in my saddlebag and pulled a 20 foot wheelie down the street.
I get out on the highway still pissed at our dipshit desk bunny and hauling ass to the hospital.
I pass a Maricopa police car doing well over the speed limit.
I see him and he doesn't do shit.
So I slow down beside him and motion for him to pull over.
No response other than a incredulous look.
So I start kicking the drivers door [put a nice dent in that sucker]
He swerves into the gravel on the side of the road and stops. I stop just in front of him.
I grabbed the bag out of my saddlebag and run toward the police car.
He's getting ready to draw his weapon.
I yelled 'you gotta get this man's finger to the hospital now!!'
Quickly explaining how I come to be carrying such a thing.
The Dumb ass cop looks at me and says 'We don't do that'
I start yelling.
Are you fucking kidding me! You assholes can't find any stolen items unless the crooks bring them to you and can hardly solve shit. Except give out bullshit tickets? To serve and Protect is just a fucking motto?
At this the Sargent in the passenger seat got out and berated the dumb ass.
'Take the damn finger and let's get it to the hospital, Jackass.'
So off they go, siren's blaring.
I catch up a few minutes later as they are walking back outta the hospital.
The sargent pulls me aside and say's
'The next time you give a cop a finger...Smile.

Postscript...It was all for naught...they couldn't reattach the finger.
As I stepped into the bathroon I saw what the dumbass cop saw.
A long wild haired, grey beard with a bowie knife strapped to his leg. a patch of a maltese cross with skull and bomes on my back. and blood on the front of my shirt.
Riding a obnoxious sounding harley covered in dust...And kicking his door.
I wonder why he didn't want to pull over?

WTF?

2009-07-19T23:30:00.004-07:00

There's an old joke about a man in a flood sitting on his roof.
First a man on a raft comes by and ask 'Do you need a ride?'
The old man replies 'no ,God will save me'
The rafter leaves.
Then he is followed in secession with a boat ,helicopter etc...
Same question, same answer.
Finally the water rises and the old man dies.
Gets up to St Peter and says What happened, I thought you'd save me?
Peter replies 'What do you want from me? I sent a raft, a boat, a helicopter.....

Why the joke?
Because I was wondering if I wasn't getting the joke being played by the universe.
only in reverse......

There was a open bike night planned for this past Saturday night at the dominant three piece 'Patch' here in the valley. [It's AZ . you figure it out]
My President of B.A.C.A says 'we have to be there'
'OK. no problem'
My bike 'Marie' the Dyna is in the shop getting a gear drive and some bigger cams.
Be ready Thursday night......No sweat.
Thursday comes.....Nope wrong cams...next week earliest.
OK....I'll just go out and finish up 'Annabelle' my trusty sporty.
Friday night starting to button it up.....Aww shit, I need two lousy O-rings
Which I don't have. too late to get them in time for tomorrow night and finish up the build and break her in properly.
My Bro Mike says 'take my sporty'
It has a charging issue...But I'm hoping that I have enough time to fix....If not I'll just bring jumper cables as we are not going to far from here anyway.
OK...Good to go.......
He gets the bike over here, I replaced the regulator and it's charging.
Now it's time to go.
Get two miles from the house and the coil or points and condenser start crapping out.
Shit!!
OK, I limp it home.
Fuck it...Take the cage.
Flat tire sitting the driveway....Are you frigging kidding me?
OK pump up the tire... Seems fine
Get two miles from home it goes flat again.......ffffffuckk!!!
Dig out the doughnut spare, seems fine,
One mile...IT goes flat!!
AAggghhh! Screw it, buy a can o fix a flat.
Finally get going.
At this point the joke mentioned earlier keeps popping thru my head...
Except in this case...something goes horribly wrong and I arrived at St Pete's and ask WTF?
And he replies
What'd you want?...I broke everything I could to stop ya..

Contemplating this scenario...I rolled down the window of the cage and flipped the bird to the universe....Fuck you, I'm going.

I went.
Had a great time.

In my Life

2009-07-15T23:23:00.001-07:00

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Huh?

2009-07-08T01:35:00.003-07:00

I thought that Mama loved me.
She bought me boots and a bike and all kinds of neat shit.
Now, I ain't so sure.
We went out for dinner the other night on the way to Walmart.
On the menu they had 'Chicken fried steak'
I had a question...
Since there is no 'Chicken' in the damn steak......I don't count the egg used for the batter...It's an egg...not a chicken yet....[No I ain't interested in a roe-v -wade debate]
where the fuck did the chicken fried part come from?
Is there a chicken in the kitchen frying the damn thing?
But I digress..
Anyhow we ended up at Wallys mart and she bought me a pair of shorts for the party.
I was thankful.
Till now.
Here I sit with a bursting bladder.
The shorts she bought are camouflage..
So,Now I can't find the Fucking zipper.......

Cryogenic Rapture

2009-06-25T23:34:00.002-07:00

Friday started one second after midnight of Thursdays eve.
Apparently this happens on weekly basis.
It's been going on since time began...or at least since we have had Friday's following Thursday's.
What's this have to do with this post?
Absolutely nothing.
At the time I was sleeping and don't know what the hell was going on.
What's this all have to do with the Williams AZ trip everyone is waiting to hear about?
Not a damn thing.
Hell, even the title of this post has nothing to do with this day's story..it actually applies to Saturday.
{I'm a regular friggin' suspence writer}
In case you missed it....At midnight..I was sleeping.
Pay attention!

I awoke at the crack of Nine-ish and headed out to my big two wheeler.
[OK so it's a sporty and most don't consider it big.....and it's not really mine...belongs to a Friend]
Abruptly I came to a halt.
I forgot to open the door.
Twisting the doorknob like a panheads twistgrip attached to a super E fuel mixer...[Poetic, Ain't it?]
I opened the door.
I walked over to the scoot and threw a leg over.
Flipped the switch and reached for the starter button.
Only to be interrupted by a loud yelling coming from the doorway.
'You need to get dressed first'
Ann had noticed I had no clothes on.
Damn! She's picky today.
So I had to start all over again...
Finally getting my shit together, We headed off to the wild blue....ummm
Asphalt?
After a long drive..[5000 feet] We stopped at a house five streets up from ours and looked at a Black Cherry 99 Dyna.
Ann bought it and said Happy Fathers day!
Which I thought was strange...As Fathers day was on the upcoming Sunday.
But being graciously humble I didn't point that out to her.
{Yes I know..I'm wonderful like that}
Getting down the highway going up to get low in the AZ high country.
Like two Frito's diving into salsa con queso, we were a tasty pair..
{Try singing that one ,Dylan}
Stopping at the local HD dealer on the way, we bought the Harley museum archives book.
[Highly recommended]
Rumbling along [we were hungry] we opted to stop at the casino along the way.
After a hardy meal we cropdusted the casino isles.
Relived of the gastro-intestinal issues and recieving nasty looks from the patrons at the slot-machines, We got while the going was good.
Near Flagstaff it started to rain.
I had no jacket.
[if you weren't paying attention...I had some fabric related issues earlier in the day]
Bought a sweater-jacket at the Big 5 sports store.
I was toasty.......The rain stopped.
Finally arriving in Williams AZ.
The assistant police chief greeted us as we dismounted.
Apparently he hadn't ever heard a sporty with a nasty big block Chevy cackle.
He was impressed.
Registering for the Rumble. [I'm smart like that]
We proceeded towards our hotel.
Stopping at a stop sign because that's what your supposed to do.
[That's why it's called a stop sign..Dipshit]
I looked over and saw AZ Harley Dude and Linda stopped at the other stop sign.
{Why?.... you paying attention here?...I ain't explaining it again}
Saying Hello....Because that's what you do when you meet people.
We had a quiet talk on the sidewalk. It would have been ridiculous to yell loudly as we were just a couple feet from each other.
We agreed to meet later at the local watering hole.
I think it was misnamed because I didn't really see anybody drinking water.

I partook in some of Lynchburg Tennessee's finest liquid libation.

[Partook and libation in the same sentence...50 points..Yee-hah!]

Fuzzily watching Ann molest all the wooden animals in town and even seeing her attempt to give a pine cowboy statue a blow job.
Guessing wisely that she must need some wood.
I headed her off to the hotel.
Then came Saturday........

My Favorite Word

2009-06-14T10:50:00.002-07:00

A Short Post.

2009-06-08T23:10:00.000-07:00

What????

Road Therapy.

2009-05-11T00:34:00.004-07:00

Mounting up and firing the iron horse called 88 to life, the walls of the surrounding concrete canyon echoed with a sinister roar of a snarling stallion.
Two more steel steeds announced their displeasure at sitting idle.
Snapping the darkness away with white light and blue flame, the dirt rose in protest as the three snicked into gear in unison and painted the asphalt a darker shade of black.
Unleashed and full of fury, earlier today these chariots had given full measure of compassion for a child treated wrongly. Proudly carrying safely the newest young member of B.A.C.A. They had spent all the empathy allotted them for the day.
Rage was all that was left. This valley was gonna hear the bellowing angry scream.
As if to haunt the sleep of an abuser, the steeds wound up and casting showers of orange sparks they tore down the off ramp leading to the highway. The heat generated from the friction of steel on pavement gave the floorboard of the first iron horse an eerie glow, if only for an instant.
Just under a hundred and still gaining momentum the three riders held the steel reins of the chrome,war painted palominos racing to outrun the horror of child abuse.
The wind, rumble and speed would be the therapy needed.
The stench of evil would be lost in the dust, passed from view just for the duration.
Cool desert air was breathed to capacity in iron and flesh lungs. White and red streaks galloped clear.
The cloak of night swallowed the tragedies and injustices of days recent.

Tomorrow the world will still turn and the the destiny of souls will still follow.
But tonight....just briefly....nine broke free, three of steel and six of flesh.

Living Bike

2009-05-03T23:28:00.004-07:00

There are certain points in your life that you know will always stick in your grey matter like Harley oil on your new jeans.
Most of the memories you retain in life are the good ones or the embarrassingly funny...the bad ones usually lose impact over time.
This weekend was about as close to being perfect as it gets.
To set the scene let me first tell you about the weather.
Living in AZ we always have sun and decent weather, sometimes the evenings are a bit cold in the winter and the summers just a bit toasty day or night.
But days like this weekend... warm sun, gentle cool breezes that beckon you to breathe deep and hang your arms in the wind. Comfortable nights where the air is just crisp enough that the V-Twin your reining is straining to gallop.
And the faster you ride.....The more your iron steed wants to run.
You can feel the bikes soul. This isn't wishful thinking or romanticizing....this ride is alive. Faith my ass....you have unequivocal proof
Whether it came alive in the factory or the day you bled on her changing the oil.
None of us who ride are ever really sure when it occurred and it doesn't happen to all iron horses. Conversely all riders don't become 'Bikers' either.

We just instinctively know when it has. And I've yet to see a 'Biker' who wasn't still in awe every time he comes upon such a living entity, with it you can spot the true blood 'Bro' from the 'Enthusiast'
I saw two iron-souls this weekend...and the awakening of a 'Biker'
First was the sister 88 Sporty to 'Annabelle'. This Bike has been redone and maintained by me since its owner bought some years ago, Raw, unrestrained power describes this ride, it literally shakes the ground.
When he first got it..It was a sweet ride. nimble and quick, but devoid of any 'apparent' real soul.
Sometime in the intervening times the bike sat near 'Annabelle' this one came awake.
How it happened I haven't a clue. I sometimes swap parts back on forth between the two of them to optimize both for the intended purpose of the rider.
Did "Annabelle' give part of her soul or was it just lying dormant in that engines crank?
Awaiting someone who could unleash it?
Then there's the bike Sticks bought this week. The moment it rolled up into my driveway...I could see it/feel it.
Sticks from the looks he was giving it knew too.
Too be sure there was a bond being forged. I don't think at the time he even really knew how strong it was gonna be.
Before the earth was able to do a full revolution the forge will have struck and the bond permanent.
This bike is etching it's permanent niche in that old grey matter of Sticks.
We gathered up the pack of B.A.C.A members for a child ride. approx 20 riders in attendance. Riding in formation to the scheduled meeting.
Both the bikes that Sticks and I were riding seemed to be straining at their reins to get there. They apparently knew something we didn't.
Arriving to the meet, the child we are there for comes out and sees the sea of bikes there just for the pleasure of being able to spend time with the kid.
placing a B.A.C.A vest on this child was deeply felt by both the givers and the recipient. We pointed to the sea of bikes and said 'pick one' your going riding.
Picking the bike of choice helmet,gloves and Glasses provided...off they went on the first of many rides that day around the neighborhood.
The 88 Sporty wasn't able to give a ride as the backrest is too short for safety.
After all the rides the child kept rubbing the back of Stick's bike. Out of all the bikes there, seems that one called to the kid. Walking down the line the child stopped at the sporty and asked if it was OK to sit on it.
Of course it is!
Climbing aboard I was asked if the bike could be started? Flipping the switch and pulling the clucth handle, I pointed to the starter button.
Little fingers pushed that bike to life. A look came into that kids eyes that was unmistakable....reaching for the throttle with a reverent look, it was twisted gently and held for a instant. then rolled off and twisted again. All those in attendance went silent. We could literally see the lights go on in the back of this childs head.
All the trappings of chrome and paint didn't faze the kid..This bike reached out to the child and it's soul was recognized then and there.
This kids a 'Biker'
Mark this date....10 years from now this kids rolling. No question.
Next installment.......therapy at 120 mph [for us ..not the kid]

Luckier than anyone has a right to be.

2009-04-27T22:45:00.010-07:00

I sit here at my computer trying to process the last few weeks.
I have a lot of conflicting thoughts running through this cranium.
The highs and lows that have occurred lately have virtually knocked my
sensibility's for a loop.
By the time you all read this there will be a title header up above....
right now I can't seem to conjure up any.
Hell, I can't even begin to guess where to start.
So taking Mama's advice.....Just type...The words will come.
So.....

Let's start where We left off.....The ending to mission bay.
The strange knocking coming from "Annabelle" was the crank sprocket nut had loosened and banged the hell out my crankshaft splines.
I re-torqued the nut and thought the problem fixed.
No such luck....as I write this she sits forlorn in the shop completely disassembled. She needs a new crank half, and funds are nil.
As most of you already know since almost all of my readers here are bikers.....When the shit starts to hit the fan... You go riding and sort it all out.
Well the fan went on high....and no bike.
Ok, plan B.
Pull out Mama's half assembled 84 sporty and finish it up. It also needs the crank done.
But I have [I think] a temporary solution to that problem.
I call my Good friends Mike and Sarah with a plan.
{calling them Good friends doesn't do them justice..I just can't seem to find the proper adjective...calling them family fits better...but still not good enough a term.]
The 66 sporty I wrote about some months back is getting a new motor.
So... I'll just take the crank,pistons,rods and cylinders out of that one and transplant them to Mama's motor.
[that loud yelling you probably hear right about now....Don't worry...it's just
Willy D and Fasthair yelling at their monitors saying it won't work....as I said no ride, no think straight.]
I digress.
I get the motor and proceed to tear it apart. Then the addled grey matter starts working again...Shit! I forgot they went to six spline pinion shafts in 77. The 66 has four. No go.
Right at this time Ann gets the call that her mother is falling ill Quickly and she needs to fly home.
I take her to the airport.
I have two bikes scattered around the shop and mixed in with the other three.
none run, Mama's gone and going through one of the toughest times in her life.
I'm sitting in the garage on the floor wondering what the hell to do.
My Bro's and Sis's know I need 4 things to make it through the day. Mama, Bike, diet coke and smokes...and not a lot of time without any of them to think too much.
They started arriving in force. Mama and the bike they couldn't fix...But I damn sure wasn't getting lonely, hungry or going without my other two essentials.
Stick's the Maracopia B.A.C.A president made damn sure I was gonna be at the child ride and meeting on Saturday even if he had to stuff my ass into his saddlebag.
He's a big man and can get real persuasive. So,I went.
Helping a child like B.A.C.A does make you understand that your problems are trivial in comparison. And the look from the kid when you arrive makes any day worthwhile.
We bikers have our saying about why we ride "if you don't ride..you can't understand"
If you have never been to a child ride like this...no words can adequately describe it. Shakespeare would be at a loss for words.
At the monthly meeting held afterwards. I got a strange feeling down the back of my neck....Then Stick's phone rang. I already knew. Ann's mom had passed.
I wanted to be at Ann's side right there and then...but it wasn't possible.
I wanted to go home. For what I don't know as I couldn't do anything there either.
I felt weird being out and about with friends while Ann was dealing with this.
That was my mistake.....I wasn't among friends...I was with a stronger family than anyone could ever hope for.
A virtual blanket was thrown over me and in spirit Ann too.
Before anyone in B.A.C.A could even begin to think of how to get me to Ann.
Joker from the Harley Mystique left me a message that he was paying for the plane ticket back to Mass.
Mike and Sarah told me they would take care of our daughter Vicki, watch the house and feed the dogs while I was gone.
They even drove me to the airport.
Joker picked me up, handed me a couple of hundred dollars, the keys to his pristine sporty and said I'm taking you to Ann.
The next few days were tough for Ann and myself. And Joker was there right by our side the whole way, attending the wake and funeral along with my 'Sis' Savina.
The next day the four of us went riding. Savina on my bike and Ann on Jokers.
We went to the infamous 'Boneyard' bar.
After lunch we rode around a bit and then went home to shower and change for round two back at the Boneyard.
Ann and I believe a life should be celebrated and partied in honor of.
Her Mom was well honored.
During the evening I was especial honored when Blackstone Bill pulled of the Boneyard shirt off of his back and gave it to me. It really hits home when you realize it's 40 degrees outside and this man gives you his warm sweatshirt.
And the girls at the Boneyard? lets just say I was a happy S.O.B.
Later in the eve I caused a little excitement in the sleepy little town outside the bar.
Stick's and I have a lot in common, and one of them is screwing around with the local gendarme.
A townie cop pulled up just outside the bar.
I yelled out...Taxis here!
A few seconds later another cop showed up and in their haste almost ran into each other. The keystone cops are alive and well.
Both of the officers get out and make a beeline for me.
I was sitting with Joker and a few others.
From the cruisers sitting out on the street there's no way they could have known who yelled. So why'd they go straight for me? I don't know.
I'm just cute I guess.
The officer following the other pulled out his baton and was holding it against his palm looking like Barney Fife. If he had cleared his throat I'd have been arrested on the spot.
The lead bluetop did clear his throat and using his best 'authority voice' started to tell me about all the noise complaints that they had all night.
I interrupted him to say "I don't own the joint..go tell him"
Looking visibly perturbed for being interrupted he gave me a hard look and continued telling me about the noise problem. Carry on Sheriff Roscoe.
After stating his piece they turned and left. I asked if anyone had any Depends handy as I feared I was gonna wet myself....Alas no one did, So I had to hold it in.
A half an hour later when it was closing time 6 cruisers were surrounding the bar.
They came to the door to see we all got out safely. What a swell bunch!.
I hope there wasn't any real crime happening elsewhere in town as they were all here
We got home without any further incident.

I went to see my Dad at the nursing home where he lives. Joker went with me.
My father put on my leather jacket and road vest and I took a picture.
Those who know of my history with my Dad will know that global warming has ended. Hell has frozen over.
To put it simply , He is as straitlaced as they come and in his mind in order from bad to worse is drunks, druggies, hotrodders and bikers, being in the top two and for a time three out of four, for him to think highly enough of the B.A.C.A patch Well, Shit. I was floored.
Now while all this was taking place, Or
Meanwhile back in AZ.....
I was supposed to fix a friends bike before I Had to leave. He was gonna let me use it in the Yuma run that was coming up the day after I got back.
Me no fix..Bike no go.
Arod my bro went and did the work I was supposed to do so I could leave on time.
And kickstand went by the house every night to turn on the AC so the dogs wouldn't sweat to death being in the house.
I landed thurs and Ann and I left on Friday.
Actually made it twenty miles.
Hit a huge bump in the highway...bottomed out.
And split the tire clean right down the center. a bolt on the fender had cut it like a machete.
Stopping from 70 with a split flat tire loaded bike and with a passenger to boot on deeply grooved pavement.
Who needs video games? I had all the excitement anyone would ever need.I really was gonna need Depends after that stunt.
Called Mike and Sarah. 20 minutes later the bike was on a trailer headed home and Ann and I were headed to Yuma in the Car.
Made it in time to Par-Tay and damn we did.
During the festivities Ann ,Ice ,Nytro and Kickstand became full fledged 'patched' members of B.A.C.A.
Had a kickass weekend.
Oh yeah....They 'patched' in some old ugly fucker named 'Caveman' too.

Pic's from San diego trip.

2009-03-29T22:48:00.002-07:00

Make an on-line slideshow at www.OneTrueMedia.com

I'm Famous!

2009-03-27T22:27:00.001-07:00

I'm famous! I had no idea that I inspired a beer commercial! And I don't even drink beer!

Mission Bay....Accomplished

2009-03-24T21:37:00.019-07:00

Grab a beer ,Coke, coffee or swamp water and some beef jerky, crackers or a side of beef.

Turn off your phone, lock the door and tranquilize the pets. Settle in, 'cause this is gonna be a loooooonnnng post. Life is getting hectic around here with bikes backing up for work, family medical issues, etc. I'm gonna write the four day weekend in one shot.......I don't know when I will get to post again.

Wednesday....The night before.

Sticks, our chapter president showed up around 6 pm on the Indian with a fork seal rebuild kit.

2 hours tops right?...........Not at my house it ain't. That would just be too damn easy. After getting the fork loose from the bike we needed to get a fork seal tool. This we knew, and had planned ahead...Mice and Men and all that jazz.

Arod, my brother with the tool gets out of work at 7 and is home by 7.30 , eats dinner, kisses the wife and heads on up with the tool. Will be at the garage by 8.30. No problem.......Yeah, that'll work as expected.

Due to situations at work, Arod didn't end up even leaving till almost 8 then got home and had some pressing work to do in his own shop.....So he calls and apologizes that he can't make it up, but we are welcome to come on down and get the tool. It's going on nine when we head down. Arod lives 20 to 30 minutes away. When we arrive, bikers being bikers, we shot the shit for a while, loaded up the tools and got back at 10.30..... no problem, its only an hour needed to finish. Except....

Thinking that Arod was going to help do the job and bring all his tools I forgot I needed a long Allen tool to reach the bottom fork bolt...And it needed to be a hardened impact type socket. All my tools [2 full stand up tool boxes] I don't have one. Off to Walmart we go....They don't have it either.....now it's midnight.

I'm not called B.A.C.A's MacGuyver for nothing.

So I improvise. Take a long Allen tool place it in the vise and proceed to dremel saw it in half.....[It's a L shaped tool , I needed it straight] The tool just laughed at my dremel. no effect. Now I'm pissed. So I get my 20 pound mighty Thor hammer and whack the bastard. Hardened steel fractures when this happens and it did. I am 70% percent deaf in both ears and I heard the sucker shatter, fly off and bounce clear down the driveway.

Cool! Success!.....Except, now we can't find the damn thing in the dark. flashlights, drop lights even going so far as to finally breaking out my Uber-expensive metal detector. Beeping loudly at 1 am probably didn't endear me to the neighbors. Never did locate the damn thing. Did find a nice shiny penny though.

So I made another , this time watching closely where the hell it went.

So now I got the tool as follows......A extremely powerful 1/2 inch impact gun..with a 1/2 to 3/8ths adapter.......attached to a 3/8ths to 1/4 inch adapter....attached to a 1/4 inch deep socket with a fractured Allen tool on the end. This ain't looking too good...or safe.

I put the tool in...fire up the gun......The world rattled and shook.......and the damn bolt came out nice and clean. I have a saying that's well known by anyone who has seen me work. Don't fucking tell me no.. sum bitch. At this, Sticks laughing, lost his beer in a pretty impressive plume..

Disassemble, slide the new seals and rubbers , put in the circlip. Easy as pie.

Nope, the damn clip won't seat properly. It's 2 am and I tell Sticks, who looks like he's ready to fall over from being exhausted to go home. We'll finish this in the morning.

Now to show you how wiped out he was.......He bought that story...and went home.

You, as my loyal readers already know me better than that. I went in the house, had a soda and a smoke. Then went out and finished the job. 4:45 am: I went to bed.

Thursday 10 am.

Sticks arrives back at the house, comes in and finds me sleeping. He's very polite but I can see he's more than a little agitated. A six foot plus 280 pounder standing slightly pissed at the foot of your bed ain't exactly something to wake up to. He's got a lot to do today just getting the run started and rolling.

Thinking his bike's still broken doesn't help matters any. Me on the other hand am still a devious little shit and proceed down the hall in a leisurely fashion to get some morning coffee. Hell, I'm still in my BVD's. Sticks, deciding that pissing off your mechanic wouldn't help his situation any, didn't say a word. I asked him if he had a light for my smoke....he didn't, so I said there's one in the shop on the toolbox. Would you get it for me? as I am barefooted.

He goes out...leans over his bike and brings the lighter in.

I waited.....around 5 minutes later and the lights came on in his brain and Sticks went back out to the shop realizing that his bike had been complete when he leaned over it.

That was one happy-ass president. I was scared as hell that he was gonna break out in song. I'm thinking, it's still way too fucking early for that kind of shit.

I went back to bed. Passed gas to make sure no one would want to come back in the room...and fell asleep.

Noon-ish, I woke up, went in the bathroom, looked in the mirror and saw my frazzled hair. Proof that something noxious had been released in that bedroom. Rascal, my faithful dog was giving me the stink eye...literally. That was one helluva pissed off mutt.

I called Sticks, he had some last minute details to go settle and then would be right over. 2 hours later he shows up and we got ready to roll out.

I looked at my watch and mentally cursed Masshole Joker......It was exactly 3:10 and we were on our way to Yuma for the night.

The ride to Yuma was pretty uneventful other than Sticks' air cleaner bolts rattling out. I took some off my bike's side cover all the while giving him some good natured shit about cannibalizing my beloved 'Annabelle' for a bright piss-yellow Indian. But, being a genuine Sportster Harley-Davidson bolt his bike would probably run faster.

With a crumbling foundation of an old building nearby, I quipped this looks like a good desolate spot to hide a body if we ever needed to.

After we rolled back onto the highway......looking at the other side of the overpass we had been parked next to.............there was about forty border and customs agents set up in a checkpoint. Criminal genius I ain't.

Arrived at the clubhouse in Yuma and the other members from Maricopa arrived an hour later. Partied way too late into the night. (Yes I know..I was surprised as hell that bikers would raise hell that late too).

Friday....sometime in the morning.....my watch hadn't woke up yet and was being fuzzy about showing its dials.

Now this would be a good time to tell you a little bit about Yuma's chapter of B.A.C.A

They don't read my blog..So I can speak freely without seeming like I'm saying this to get in their good graces.

Although there are many members I'm gonna tell you about four.

The AZ state president is 'Guy' This dude is laid back and serves hospitality second to none.
This man is a Biker in every sense of the word. He will open his doors..feed you and lend you clothes if need be (as I'm sure you already heard over at Joker's post.)

I needed a quick weld done on my bike that I had been meaning to get to. In 2 minutes flat he had the welder out and did a fantastic job. His place is known in Yuma for his and Bambi's hospitality. However, he didn't make state pres for being nice-nice. Commit a crime against a child and being born will long be considered the worst move you ever did. I've no doubt that if the situation was warranted he'd have no problem at all in serving you a divine recall notice.

Then there's Bambi...Guy's wife. She is a beautiful soft spoken lady who goes out of her way to make sure every thing you need is available. The looks between Guy and Bambi.....is the same look Ann and I give each other. And any fool who tries to step inside that union., sweet little Bambi will cut his damn nuts off ever so politely, and shove them clear up his ass. Same for pedophiles and abusers. The best honor I could say about her is she looks and acts just like my daughter Samantha........would you really want to be on the receiving end of Big D's kids anger? I taught them well.......As I've no doubt did Bambi's father. I told Guy he is a lucky man.....and she a lucky woman. To have what Ann and I have is priceless.

Then there's Bear. Ex-cop/border officer, pure biker, great guy and the skills to ruin your entire month if you get on his bad side. Don't get on that side of him and you'll have a standup solid brother at your side.

Shotgun the young buck. He also will go out of his way to make you welcome. Shotgun got his name in part because of his explosive temper and the damage he will do. But....have him on your side, no less than a crack commando team would have to pass him to get to you. I know the fire in his eyes.....I had it myself when I was his age. Ironically , one of my closest and most valued brothers is also named Shotgun.

This is who the Maricopa chapter rode proudly with to San Diego. President Barack Obama wishes he had this kind of security. Or even the fools at AIG.

After a hearty breakfast at a local diner. We tacked on the commie republics mandatory helmet
and headed across the state line. Wearing a parachute that chokes you ain't exactly the best way to start a run. Not being accustomed to the useless thing...it wasn't helping anybody.

Due to the fairly strong breeze. Joker from AZ was just about getting ready to throw up from the pressure on his throat, mine tied a little looser kept sliding down the back of my head. Because my very fine hair is slippery as hell. The mounds of it wasn't letting the helmet sit tight on my cranium. I had a revelation...The bikers long hair style didn't go out because of society changing....It went out because of helmet laws. So I tightened the damn thing....now I wanna hurl. The flap from the chin strap every few miles or so would break loose and proceed to slap the hell out of my ear. Also I noticed that when wearing it, one was less likely to fully turn their heads to look around you. Relying on your mirrors more. I noticed this even on native CA riders. While the effect is mostly psychological...nevertheless it's there. A biker's best defense is being aware of your surroundings. I truly believe that they limit that skill. Even full faced riders tend to stare straight ahead to avoid the wind shear effect. Gradually we got used to it.

But not one AZ rider liked the damn things. We all agreed that if we wanted to feel 'caged', we would have driven one.

So..We kept rolling.

Later in the day we stopped for fuel around 60 miles from our destination at a local circle K. The view from the back of the place overlooked the highway and covered in purple blossoms the sight was stunning. Definitely a group photo was needed here.....and it was done.

Getting back out and heading over the mountain pass the three front riders [including myself] opened the bikes up and hauled ass. What a rush!

Rolling into a customs checkpoint, the officer looked at us and waved the group over for further scrutiny. A young and obviously green customs agent hesitantly came over to inspect us. Bear running lead and being a ex customs agent himself, looked at the kid and said, "We are American citizens," pointing to the flags emblazoned on our vests.

Looking like he was gonna shit himself on the spot the kid asked, "Do you have any weapons?"
Bear pulled back his vest and pointed to his knife (termed loosely......most countries consider a blade that fucking big a sword). Visibly shaken but unable to do anything about it, because not being covered it was legal, he proceeded down the line asking all of us the same question.

When he got to me, I pointed to my buck knife and replied, "Just this and my intellect." I thought the poor kid was gonna throw up on the spot.

After this another customs agent found a baggie full of white powder a few cars back. We could hear the driver pleading with the agent. Visibly relieved the young agent hurriedly waved us through.

Riding in a pack requires a healthy set of skills. None of which any of us possessed anymore as we were laughing too hard to see. Somehow we straightened out and made it into El Cajon safely.

In town Sticks, Bear, Shotgun and myself split from the pack and headed over to the local HD dealer for new set of air cleaner bolts for Sticks. I needed a cold shower after going in there.
Bikes on display...an XlCR Cafe Sportster, a topper scooter, and a sweet servicar. For sale was a V-Rod chopper for 15 grand that looked sweet. I'm not a fan of the V-rod look....but I would have bought that sucker on the spot if I could have.

Heading over to the campground, Joker saw the El Cajon chapter clubhouse of the HA. Pointing to it so we could all see it. Getting up on the highway a blacked out Harley came roaring out of nowhere to read the patch on Sticks' vest. Seeing all was in order the HA prospect peeled off back toward the clubhouse.

I wasn't surprised. An unidentified pack of bikers pointing toward our clubhouse would have brought us out to see who the hell you are, too.

Giggling like little school kids we were splitting lanes tearing up the highway through traffic. Euphoria.

After arriving and setting up shop on the other side of the campground from all the other B.A.C.A members, we all headed over to the festivities. I should tell you I expected a fairly large event. What I saw blew me away.

The tent was twice the size of my house and a sea of over 200 B.A.C.A patches were waiting on our arrival. Various MC's were also in attendance. This was gonna be a huge party. Upon hearing that almost half the people coming hadn't even arrived yet.....Well, Holy Shit!

Dimples, a Maricopa board member and Sticks' wife came over and gave me the standing orders as dictated to her by Boston/Ann. No going in the water and no one sits on Mama's seat. Period.

I replied, "Any woman could sit on her husband but not her seat? Nice to know I come second to a piece of cowhide." Dimples quipped, "Those are your orders...deal with it."

At this point Shotgun grabbed my arm and led me into the fray. He was gonna introduce me to every patch in attendance, I was gonna know them...and he was gonna make damn sure they knew me.

Great food and company made for a incredible night.

Later I went down to the beach alone to sit in the sand. Watching the boats in the bay reflecting lights across the water was just making me miss the hell out of Ann.

It was at this point I had my fist run-in with the Feathers MC.

They were demanding protection tax to sit on their beach. I told them to go pound sand and went back to camp.

The party was in full swing. Campfire roaring, music blasting and booze flowing. Another late night of partying was taking place. Expecting that all the good little bikers would be in bed by 9, to say I was shocked would be an understatement. But, being a enthusiastic supporter...I persevered.

Saturday..Time.....who cares?

We all broke out the food and although there was a poker run scheduled we opted to just stay at camp.

Now a supporter does not dictate terms to the club president.......but......me being who I am...I did. I said if and when I 'Patch' in....if there isn't a bowl of Dimples's chili available..I ain't having it.

A little bold you might think? Then obviously you ain't had her chili! Kickass doesn't even begin to describe. Especially if you cut open a beer can with a little beer residue on the bottom, put the chili in and place it in the campfire. (I think I need to pause here and go take another cold shower.)

It was at this point I made a heartfelt confession. I only became a biker because I heard they had kickass chili. I begrudgingly bought a motorcycle and learned to ride just so I could get 'Biker chili.' In fact Sticks and Dimples being as astute as they are...realized to get me to storm an abusers house..all they would have to do is throw a bowl of chili through the front door. I'll steamroll over the sucker's ass!

I told Joker that some sumbitch was sneaking around the trailer to get more chili, and if I saw him I would...... Joker quipped, "Eat his chili?"

Later in the afternoon went all headed over to the tent. I got introduced to Chief...BACA'S founder. That was a helluva honor.

Producing three copies of my story 'Little Jimmy' I asked him to sign mine and gave him a glossy printed copy. After all, this is the man who inspired it in the first place. The other copy got passed around the campsite. I heard that a couple of chapters were gonna read it aloud to the their members at the next local meeting. Some 'patch-holders' got blurry eyed. Also, I heard they are planning to make a BACA film based on it. I'm struck speechless.

The food was excellent and the party continued.

Later back at our campsite......

Sticks and Dimples may dispute this version of events........But this is my story and I'm sticking to it!

A member of the Feathers MC snuck into camp and stole a bag of Dimple's Ritz crackers. I chased him all the way to the beach. The gang lied in wait. I fought as hard as I could, but they overpowered me and made off with the ill-gotten booty. The Feathers....Mallard Club had seized victory. Leaving me crackerless in the sand. Those are some tough, mean-assed Ducks! I'm not sure but I think the leader was named 'Howard'.

I returned to camp a broken man.

At this point I was really missing Ann or even my bro Kickstand. Shotgun not having really spent a lot of time with me, didn't know that when the lights went low, I'm virtually struck blind and deaf. Meaning I can't read lips in the dark. (Ok, some pairs I can but that's a whole 'nother story;)) So not knowing this, wasn't available to translate.

Sticks, had I pointed out that fact, would have translated for me...But he has a soft rumble in his voice that I have a hard time hearing. I also figured that I had taken way more of my fair share of time with him over the weekend and left him alone to interact with the people he hadn't seen in a while.

I can only wonder what the other members from other chapters thought was going through my head as I didn't speak once around the campfire all night.

After we all retired to bed. Shotgun sat by the campfire and kept watch over the camp all night.
(I'm not really sure...but, hearing of my battle with the Feathers......I think he was keeping watch to see they didn't return).

Then came Sunday.......

Packing up and rolling out of camp. we stopped at Denny's for breakfast. Meanwhile the sky opened up and started to pour. We left Denny's in driving, wind-swept, biting rain. We got drenched in less than 500 feet.

Determined to out run the rain. We pressed on through. Made it all the way up to the beginnings of the mountain pass. This where it all went to hell.

Pulling over for someone in the pack to readjust his glasses. I stopped and waited idling. Water rushing down the road got under my boot and mixed with oil started to pull my foot out from under me. Hopping my leg to regain traction wasn't happening......Big D was going down.

Over 'Annabelle' went tossing me into the grass. The oil cap popped off and all my oil poured out of the tank. The right footpeg snapped on impact. I'm so waterlogged I can barely sit up and I struggled to get back to the bike to shut it off and stop the hemmoraging oil.

Lucky I always carry a fresh quart in my saddle bags. Filled it back up and would just have to live without a front peg for now.....we pressed on.

Riding into increasing gales was getting hairy...but if you keep the throttle into the wind you can maintain. Except when your light Sporty starts to hydroplane.....roll off the throttle to regain traction......and the wind picked up 'Annebelle' and pond-rock skipped out across the highway from the breakdown lane into the center median. Looking in my mirror I saw a truck coming up the highspeed lane........he saw what was happening and slowed to a crawl. We missed each other by inches. But hold on this shit ain't over yet.

Trying to come to a stop the slower I went the harder the wind pushed. I am a inch from a little ashpalt berm seperating the road from the center dropoff. Leaning almost completely on the side of the bike I managed to get stopped. I heard a train chuggin quickly in my ears before I realized it was my heartbeat.

Joker caught in the same conditions with his 'heavy' bike had the same problem though not as dramatic.

Fuck this!

Ann has one inviotale rule when I leave for a run. Having some woman on her seat will get my ass kicked...........Coming back dead would really really piss her off. As a result I try not to let that happen.

We crawled off the next offramp. Pulled into a hotel parking lot. Now this would be enough for any club to call it a day........You don't know B.A.C.A. They are nothing if not a stubborn bunch.

Sticks and Bear being ahead off the pack hadn't seen all this taking place and fighting to keep their own mounts upright had made it a few miles further up the mountian and had pulled into a gas station. The wind got up to 70 at this point...they can't come back. We have to get to them.

Finding a secondary road up to where they were, we rolled slowly toward them. At one point a rogue wind swept through and pushed Pop's bike and my bike sideways a couple of feet. We pressed on. Passing through Jacumba hot springs town we saw a wall of dust ahead that was a complete brownout, spreading out we passed through. The fine dust was annoying but tolerable.

We made it to the gas station.

The wind is now 90 miles an hour. The building is shaking on it's foundation. We need shelter quickly...where's there a hotel? 2 miles back in Jacumba. You have got to be shitting me.

Mount up..... options we ain't got.

Back through the wall of dust.......Except it ain't dust anymore. It's huge grains of sand and it's coming harder than a sandblaster. Blasted my shades right off my face...I caught them in midair.
I'm staring down a sandblast nozzle. Instantly blind.

One handed in the middle of the chaos I got the bike stopped.

Now, I know Shotgun is riding tailend charlie and he can't see shit either. I'm waitng for the Harley suppository. Blind sitting in the middle of the road waiting to get creamed is an activity I don't recommend. I hear an idling Harley. I scrape some of the sand from my eyes and put my glasses on. I look down to my right. There's a dust covered wheel two inches from my leg. Through the faceplate of his helmet I see a wide-eyed Shotgun.

A qaurter mile up the road we make the hotel. Ann got her wish...I did have sand in my ass. Being puckered up so tight was the only thing that prevented me from a sandblast colonoscopy.

The hotel had passed it's heyday...But hey, it's hotel California. The lady who runs this hotel could make hospiltality weekly seem rude. Hey ....you wet biker...here's some slippers get out of those boots. Jacket wet? Here's a fleece sweater. Drink? Coming right up. Shorts for the hot tub? Here ya go.

The chef if he isn't...should be world reknowned. Everything was cooked to absolute perfection.
And I mean absolute. The entire group was chattering about it for a hour after dinner, and we all had different food.

Bed came early that night. The next day was supremely uneventful. Two things made the day memorable. We stopped in an AZ at a rest area for a smoke, talking about the day previous I said 'Fucking wind!' We heard a small gasp. We looked down and a ten year old boy was standing among us from seemingly out of nowhere.

He smiled and asked, "Weren't you guys just in San Diego?" We replied, "Yes."

"You guys are awesome! We were there!"

As he walked back to his parents camper I said to Sticks, "Oh great...Now he's gonna tell mom and dad.....'I learned a new biker word'". Sticks smiled and shrugged his shoulders. We all laughed quietly, a little embarrassed.

A NOTE HERE.

Those of you who are my regular readers know I very rarely comment on things commented on another blog. Here's the exception:

Joker mentioned on his blog about LEO's following us. And Karl, although well meaning, implied otherwise. This is true and factual. It actually happens on a regular basis. Read the patch.

BIKERS...........First and foremost they are bikers. Dirty, cussin, drinking, hellraising, horney bunch of fuckers. Some with rap sheets that look like toilet paper rolls. Ex-cons, former MC's ad infinitum..

Not do-gooders, custody handlers, toy toters, or a social club.

AGAINST.........This is not a word bikers like, having been used to most of the world feeling that way about us. So if you see one wearing that word....Pay close attention to what it's saying.
They are giving you more than a fair warning.

CHILD........Emblazoned everywhere on the various patches worn. It wouldn't be there if it wasn't meant.

ABUSE.........NO.NO.NO don't even think it. In conjunction with the three words above. They Absolutely Fucking Positively Mean it. Members WILL go to jail if they have to. And many have. The screening process weeds out crimes against children. Truthfully they don't give a rat's ass if your the local crime kingpin...........If you've never hurt children and are willing to lay your ass on the line for them, you are considered for membership.

As for LEO's, well if it suits the purpose........they'll work with them. But truthfully most LEO's are extremely territorial. They don't even work among themselves unless forced to do so. Working with Bikers?......Most would rather eat their week-old shorts than do that. And knowing that it states plainly in the mission statement.......they will go beyound the law if necessary. And you don't think they get followed? Tell Alice I said, "Hi."

The Skull and Crossbones.....or Fist......It ain't there because they are all 'Capt Jack Sparrow ' fans, or even 'Rocky Balboa' fans. If it needs to be explained to you...........you are probably already in deep shit.

As for BACA'S reach........well consider this:

It's the only non-MC 'Patch' welcomed from coast to coast and around the world by most Outlaw MC's.......And the only cut that personally I know of to be worn BY INVATATION. In the White House .... from President and Mrs. Laura Bush.

The halls off congress...from the speaker of the house.

And the Justice Department.....from the head of the Justice department.

As you can see. They got LOOONNNG Arms.......Think they can't get you?

And last but not least running perfectly all weekend 10 miles from home 'Annabelle' started protesting............I still haven't had a chance to see what her complaint is.

As I am stuck here at the computer....serving my loyal readers.

Big D Caveman.................OUT!

San Diego Bound.

2009-03-15T22:16:00.002-07:00

I will be heading to San Diego this weekend for a B.A.C.A event.
I will be at a campgrond there called Campland on the bay.
To all those who asked about the weekend with Joker. I will post when I have a chance.
Right now I have too many things to take care of to give the story justice.
That weekend was Jokers turn to shine.....So keep track of the story on his blog.
He's earned the right to tell it first.

joker and Yuma

2009-03-11T02:22:00.002-07:00

Joker was here and Annebelle was running....We went to Yuma.

Had a fucking blast! Broke a few laws , pissed off a few cagers.

We home now and Joker gone bye bye back to Mass.

The things we did...I could type all night.

But I gotta go beddy bye...........Maybe tommorow or the next day...;]

Shadows

2009-02-16T02:36:00.004-07:00

'Happy Birthday son. Your eighteen today. how's it feel?'

'Thanks Dad, OK, I guess'

'You Guess? What the hell kinda answer is that?'

'It's just that I have been doing a lot of thinking'

'About what?'

'My future, and what my life will be like, where it's going to go'

'Son ,it will go where you take it. It's the choices that you make that will determine it's path.'

'Yes I know, But will it be as interesting as yours?'

'I'm not sure I follow'

'What I mean is, will it be as well traveled and respected as yours is?'

'Did I teach you to honor your family and friends through thick and thin. Also did I teach you to give a hard days work for a honest days pay? Always keep in touch over the years as time and distance intervene?

'Yes'

'Then I don't see the problem'

'Well it's just you cast a long shadow'

'I do? How so?

'Your bro's respect you. And ladies love what you represent. You have story's enough to carry a normal person's lifetime.'

'So , What I'm abnormal now?' Where's this line of talk coming from? Do you think my life's unusual? It just depends on your perception of it. Whats normal for me isn't necessarily be gonna be normal for you. Nor' would I want it to be, And neither should you.'

'You get along so well with most people. I don't think I have that skill.'

'Say's who?.

'Say's me. Even my brother talks more like you and even act's alot like you.'

'That's his skill, you have yours. Your brother is like me in some ways and in a lot of them he isn't. He is himself...And so are you. And you have more of me in you than you think. With additional skills I can never hope to have.' I wouldn't want a pair of "Mini Me's".'

'But Dad, the things you have seen and done. I could only hope to have even half of that kind of life. I'd die happy.

'That's funny I used to think the same thing about my father.

'You did?'

' Hell yes, He lived through the depression. Went to war in a B17 bomber in a belly turret. Shot down a Focke-Wolf. Received several medals for bravery. Got the DFC with 4 oak leaf clusters.

Went to Korea as a Infantryman. Saved 2 wounded GI's while dispatching the enemy with his sidearm. Traveled all over the world, was written about twice in the Stars and stripes.

Raised a family and started a new successful career after retiring from the service. I could go on and on.

'Now, That's a huge shadow to follow.'

'Do you think that anymore?'

'No I don't' I realized that his is just a different shadow. Thanks to Ann. I see that my life although vastly different...Is in a lot of ways very similar. Looking back I fought battles that took just as much courage to get pass. I didn't have bullets being shot at me from a 50 cal.

But I've had my own close calls with death. And dead is dead no matter how it arrives.

And travels? I saw things that grandpa could only imagine. same as me for him, and will be for you.'

'You really think so?'

'No I don't think......I know. You leave for active duty in the military tomorrow. Correct?

'Yes'

' Do you honestly believe your life's gonna be boring? After all....You are my son.

Your shadows gonna dwarf mine I'm sure.

'Since you put it that way. I think not.

'Happy birthday Son'

'Damn straight it is'

Tranny Blues.

2009-02-11T22:46:00.003-07:00

My Friend went to pick up a pile of scrap metal and found this engine. Brought it over to me and asked what the hell is it? There are no markings other than the serial # stamped on the case. 1 hour later I called him and said you found a 59 ST 165 cc 5.5hp Harley Davidson Hummer engine. Lucky Bastard! While not worth a huge hunk of change.....It's still a whole lotta 'F--kin A' factor. Certainly cooler than my Aermachi Italian HD moped motor.
At least this was cast here in the US. [Yes I know it was a German DKW design]

I finally got a '16 over Girder for my Trumpet......Also took in 2 500 cc triumph motors and a small stash of parts In trade for the BSA frame and motor.

Here's the Indian I was fitting for a different seat. Also added a sissy bar. This was interesting as the changes had to be made with no changes or modifications to the bike itself. Made custom mounts for the attachment points. Remove four stock bolts...slip the brackets out and put the original seat back on. No Irreversible changes made..

BTW...This is a 2003 Spirit Scout. Basically a S&S motor in a softail frame.
Not a 'Real ' Indian. Nice bike...But it ain't a Springfield MA. bike
[that's where the original Indians were produced]

And now the reason for the title of the post........Annabelle is still Down.

After assembling the clutch basket on the bike. There was too much play between the clutch hub splines and the clutch gear mainshaft. The intense vibration from the loose magnets had worn the splines loose. I have to locate a clutch hub and probably the clutch gear.

Only 85-90 parts will fit. I haven't even begun to figure where to look with my budget right now. [Zero] I'll figure something out. I always do.

P.S I think 'Annebelle is jealous of my previous ride. Eveytime I say the triumph is next on the list of work to do....She breaks down. Hmmm?

Desert Vengence 7

2009-01-15T00:45:00.008-07:00

"Pull up some stools, this is gonna take a while," said Animal.

The tavern fell silent as all gathered to hear Animal. Sitting silently for a spell it seemed as if he was looking for a place to start. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a dollar bill. "This is gonna be an audio-visual lesson. Everyone pull out a George Washington and hold it in your hands."

Watching the brothers surrounding him he waited until all had complied.

Taking a long swig from his mug he began, "On the back of the dollar bill you see two official seals, the eagle and the pyramid. Let's start with the eagle. It has 33 feathers on the right wing and 32 on the left. 33 is the number universally accepted as the number for the Freemasons. In fact the main headquarters of the organization is in Washington D.C known as the 33rd Council of Scottish Rite. The president that approved of the placing of the seals on the dollar was Franklin D. Roosevelt, the 32nd president. Also a known Freemason."

"It is considered by many conspiracy theorist that the Freemasons have a belief system that is vastly different than mainstream religions. It is also believed that they have a hidden agenda to abolish governments and religions. Are you with me so far?" All nodded in assent.

"OK, let's look at the other seal...It's generally believed that it represents an unfinished pyramid, and placed above it is the all seeing eye of God, also known as a symbol for the Egyptian sun god Amu-Ra. The script at the bottom'Novus Ordo Seclorum' translates to new order of the ages."

"What you need to know is that while close...it's not correct. The pyramid isn't unfinished. There is no peak missing. It's an amalgamation of an Egyptian tomb and a Mayan temple. The all seeing eye is a ship in the sky watching."

Oracle stood up and walked over to Animal's table and lifted his mug. He held it up to his nose, sniffed the contents and asked, "What the hell did they put in your drink? "

Animal replied, " You think I'm drunk now...wait until you hear all of the story."

Looking Animal over closely Oracle could see he was serious. He placed Animal's drink back in front of him and with a wave of his hand said, "Continue."

"Alright, beginning on a completely different note: You have all been to Sedona and felt the so called 'energy' of the place, correct?"

Nodding in agreement all the brothers waited for Animal to continue.

"The vortexes people speak of are comprised of Diamagnetic energy. With extreme amplification of this current you can defy gravity. But the aging process accelerates while you're in the anti-gravity field."

"In fact astronauts coming back from zero gravity environments show signs of rapid aging, and until now no one really knew why. Gravity helps to regulate time in anything biological, but it's a small effect. The real cause is that while never realizing it, those astronauts have been passing through a dimensional rift. Just enough passes through to affect them."

"But the side effect is like a stone thrown in a pond; the ripples fan out and dissipate, unless the ripples reach the vortexes in Sedona and other so-called energy spots around the world. The ripples tear the diamgnectic force fields between their dimension and ours."

"This happened over 10,000 years ago when those in the other dimension accidentaly broke through. They were known as a race by the name Amu-Ra. They weren't aliens they were time travelers from their dimension; a parallel. They had been conducting time travel experiments and had already 'watched' the birth of man."

"They left behind the story of man's origins placed at various points all over the globe, so no one tribe could claim all the knowledge. When the energy fields lined up correctly, they went back through the rift into their parallel."

"The next time the energies align is December 24, 2011. They said they will return to see how man has progressed. Everything the scribes left behind has been corrupted over the last 10 centuries; altered and rewritten to fit whatever agenda the local people had in mind to gain power."

"Except two. One buried in a Mayan temple and the copy that secret societies have passed through the years from the Celts to the Templar Knights onto the Priory of Sion and finally to the Freemasons. All these groups have worn the title 'Keepers of the Secret'."

"Now back to Franklin D Roosevelt. He put in motion various programs to prepare the world for the return of the Amu-Ra. All these years later in subtle and not so subtle ways, they have been raising the conciousness of the world."

"Lately for example, TV shows about aliens and other possible life in the universe, the decline in Christianity and other religions around the world, the increase of non-religous scientific thinking. Books in the mainstream like the Da Vinci code and movies like National Treasure; all of these are clues to slowly prepare mankind for the return."

"Now, all of this was pure conjecture with only the one known copy. The discovery by the scientist matched the Freemason's scribe word for word. They are coming back and the world isn't ready yet. If this gets out before they arrive and the world's population hasn't been acclimated, anarchy will reign."

"We need to stop Tank before he sets the world ablaze."

Desert Vengeance 6

2008-12-15T14:29:00.013-07:00

One hundred and forty one Harleys riding full bore down Interstate 17 was enough to make even the most stout hearted trucker pull his rig over onto the highways shoulder and stop.

The close formation and intense speed made it clear these riders had a purpose and they were pissed.

A rolling, rumbling mass of thunderous sound reverberated clear into the valley below.

Buildings shook, the occupants peered out windows and seeing the oncoming horde quickly closed the blinds and locked the doors.

Not understanding the purpose, no one wanted to be the reason for this groups arrival.

Pop, leading the pack, headed straight onto the off-ramp for Grand Avenue.

At speeds almost seeming to defy physics. The parade of angry snarling bikes rolled through town. Streets full of activity just moments before were devoid of any signs of life. Air raid sirens have never been known to be this effective.

Turning onto Camelback road from Grand Avenue The pack gained speed. Seeing the sign for the Panama Red bar. Pop raised his arm and made a circular motion. The military precision in which the bikers encircled the building would have made a West point drill team seem disorganized.

As one, the riders placed the bikes on their side stands, killed the ignitions and dismounted. The abrupt silence amplified the still reverberating echoes shuddering across the valley.

Local clergy hiding behind the doors of their churches hastily checked the big book's passages on the Apocalypse. Checking to see if perhaps they had misread it, just in case it was one hundred and forty, not four. Judgement day must have certainly arrived.

And for some. It had.

Animal heard a shot. Before his ears could tell him the direction of the sound, his eyes watched the gunman's upper body explode onto the walls of the tavern.

A second blast tossed the gunman's accomplice clear over the upturned table. The look of surprise frozen forever in his eyes.

Animal looked to the direction of the sound having regained his sense of direction. Oracle was standing at the bar with a shit eating grin, holding a duffel bag in one hand and a sawed-off shotgun in the other.

Oracle laughed and said, "They made a helluva motorcycle back in nineteen fifteen and they make some damn fine guns too." referring to the Iver Johnson shotgun.

Tossing the duffel bag over to Animal he continued, "Those two idiots were sent to take you out? They could have sent Abbot and Costello and they wouldn't have been as sloppy."

"Sloppy or not, had you not been here they might have succeeded," replied Animal.

"I doubt that dumb shit could've aimed well enough to hit you. Shit, he got Henderson in the leg. Not exactly a marksman."

"Still I owe you one."

"Yeah and for the times in ninety five and ninety eight. But then lest we forget the times in ninety one, two and four where you saved my ass. But who's counting?"

Looking over at Henderson, Animal wasn't really surprised to see him sitting upright in the doorway casually smoking a cigar. One hand holding a tablecloth over the bullet wound in his thigh.

"I don't know if I should even ask. You OK?" asked Animal

"Sure why wouldn't I be" replied Henderson.

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps the sudden ventilation of your leg?"

"This?" pointing to the hole in his pants leg. "I've gotten worse being bitten by a horsefly."

"Remind me never to go to your ranch." Chuckled Animal.

The tavern walls started to vibrate with a slow but steady capacony. The wooden floorboards creaked aganst each other spraying up dust plumes. Animal could hear the sound encircle the tavern and suddenly fall silent.

Oracle spoke up "The Cavalry's here, just in time, too" he laughed.

Animal, seeing Pop enter the doorway chimed in, "Hey Custer, too many Indians on the way here?"

Pop holding up a one fingered salute smiled and said. "Jack in the Box was having a lunch special today. We didn't feel the need to be in any real hurry. After all, it's just you three."

Henderson grinning replied, "Hey, don't bunch me in with this scooter trash. I'm a talented kinda guy, I'm worth saving. Can't say the same for this cretin," pointing a finger at Animal.

"Cretin? For a guy two barely evolutionary steps above primordial soup you should talk."

Marduk hearing the banter back and forth said, "Look if you idiots don't knock it off. I'll take your bikes and lock'em away for a week."

Oracle,Pop, Henderson and Animal replied almost as one "That's harsh Bro!"

"Hey I'll do what I gotta do and Henderson, stop bleeding all over the damn floor. This is a respectable joint."

Henderson lifted his leg saying "I've heard this place called many things...but respectable? I gotta look up the Websters meaning of that word because I must have got it wrong."

Oracle looked around the bar that was rapidly filling up with thirsty bikers and asked, "Before you get to tilting back the brew, anybody want to tell me if anyone figured out what that hell is going on yet?"

"Pop's got a theory." said Marduk, flipping his thumb back at him.

"Me? I wasn't the one who came up with it," waving is arm in a sweep, "it was those two. Digger and Springer."

"Well then out with it." said Oracle.

Springer proceeded to bring Animal, Henderson and Oracle up to date. Animal looked over at Digger, "All the possible outcomes and you still got that damn knack for getting close to the truth."

"You mean I was right?"

"Damn close. Since it's out among this brotherhood and I know it''ll never leave this group I'll tell you what I know."

"It all started with an ancient culture called the Toltec's. They wrote a codex that has yet to be completely deciphered. The scientists were able to gather this bit of information from them. Dec 24 2011 is believed to be universally accepted as the doomsday date in Mayan calenders. This is fairly common knowledge. But what the scientists figured out was, it's not an ending but a beginning. And if it comes to pass, shit's gonna hit the fan."

Desert Vengeance 5

2008-12-11T18:52:00.004-07:00

"Marduk! You old goat I see you brought some friends with you. You need 'em to hold your date steady? Those hiefer's sure can run." chuckled Pop.

"Goat?" Marduk laughed ."This from a man who grabs his dick to take a leak with three fingers...and pisses on two? Shit, I didn't bring' em. As soon as the news went out that Animal was a suspect in a federal treason case they all showed up here on their own. There's not a man here who would consider it even a possibility."

Pop glanced around the circle of men. Some faces he hadn't seen in years.
Others had lived under his roof at various points in their lives. Some had stood with Animal in dense jungles and foreboding forests fighting for their country with extreme honor. Animal had saved the lives of a few of these hardened men. And several had saved his.

Seeing the respect earned of the son he raised left Pop at a rare loss for words.

Kathy aware this was a extraordinary event stood quietly watching.

"I still have contacts in the various agencies involved in this case. This is what I know so far. The stolen file has to do with the last mission Animal and and a few of us here today had worked together. It was called Mayan dawn. We were ordered to recover two professors and some crates from the ruins of a dilapidated warehouse near Peurto Penasco Mexico. We weren't allowed to inquire as to what was in the crates or even talk to the men. It was a straight forward in and out extraction," said Marduk.

"An entire team to recover two geeks and a copula crates..in Mexico? There's something wrong with that picture," replied Pop.

"All I know is that the crates were covered and the professors didn't say a word. The only thing out of the ordinary was the fact that Animal and Tank received orders to load the crates separately from the team."

"Tank? Didn't he muster out just after that mission?"

"Yes, when we reached the base stateside he kept to himself. He didn't re-enlist and never kept contact. A few of the guys tried reaching him but it was as if he dropped off the face of the earth. Nobody's seen or heard from Tank in years."

"I remember that mission. Animal wouldn't talk about it and seemed to get pissed off if it was even brought up. I could tell from the way he was acting when he got back, something shook the living shit out of him."

"We are never allowed to discuss missions even amongst ourselves. But even at that, this one was different. They didn't debrief us afterwards. No one ever even referred to that day after it was completed."

"Well, today that changes. We need to discuss that mission here and now. We've gotta piece together what the hell is going on."

Marduk gathered the four men who served with Animal on Mayan dawn. Walking to the rear of the clearing they stood in a circle. Each man fully aware of the consequences of breaking their solemn oath of silence.

Five men thought as one.

Not a word was spoken between them. None were needed. After years of serving together in all corners of the globe, each man knew the measure of the other. With a simple nod of assent they all walked back to the table and sat with Pop.

'Digger' having earned his moniker by always having the ability to quickly figure the bare bones of a mission, spoke first. His instincts were legend.
"Whatever it was that Animal and Tank saw that day had to be an abrupt change in a spiritual way or a relevant change in accepted history. I can't think of any other instance that would affect two battle hardened men like that. Both have seen greed and atrocities too numerous for them to be affected like they were. For the kind of life changing reaction they showed I'd put money that it was a combination of the two."

" I agree," said Springer, "but considering that Animal is less religious than Tank and the fact that Tank changed virtually overnight I'd also say it has to be something along the lines of rewriting accepted beliefs about our origins."

"What the hell could do that, in the middle of the Mexican desert?" asked Pop.

Weed stood up to his full six foot six height, looked around the men gathered around the table. Stroking his long pepper salt beard. He looked as if he considering how to say what it was that he knew. Taking a long deep pause he said, "Tank called me about a week after the mission. He sounded drunk and incoherent, all he kept saying was 'They knew...They always knew.' At the time I didn't give it much thought, I figured it was just the ramblings of a drunk...until today. Now I'm remembering a conversation we once had years ago about man's origin. Just idle campfire philosophy. Tank once made the statement that governments knew more than they were telling. He claimed he had collected many books researching it. Tank just needed to find the one missing book to prove it. The books content was supossedly written in ancient mayan pictographs. Which until just a few years ago no one could decipher. At the time I thought it was just conspiracy bullshit. But, now I'm not so sure. The one concept he kept harping on was that the true story had been fractured and that's why organized religions never seemed to get it just right. Think about it, if all the differrent 'bibles' telling the stories were right in general context..but not complete. If various religions each had just a part of the story and they found the one journal that tied them all together. Every religion would have to be rewritten. The implications would be staggering. churches and mosques would fall from power. Governments would collapse. Even being an agnostic, Animal would have to agree anarchy would reign. It was always Tank's belief that if it were true the information should be released immediately."

"Wait a minute, are you trying to tell us our beliefs are wrong?" yelled out Pope. Pope being ordained a christian minister looked visibly pissed.

"No, not at all...we are just speculating here. We have no proof of any of this. Just following a line of logic as to what could affect two men so deeply. What would it take to turn Tank against his brothers and distance himself and why our goverment is going to such great lengths to discredit Animal. Whatever it may be, it's huge. And simple espionage dosen't cut it. Homeland security my Ass!" replied Marduk

Silence fell among the canyon walls. Each man lost in thought. They all had heard rumors through the years of the existance of such a journal.
Secret societies throughout history had claimed to posess the knowledge.
But to date it had never surfaced. Belief that goverments and religious organizations weren't always truthful or forthcoming was part of what made them bikers. They stood outside societys conventions. Often paying the price of losing freedom and for some even their very lives.

They also understood that even if it was true, information like that would have to be released gradually to allow the worlds population time to grasp the changes. Releasing proof like that all at once would be devastating.

Many had held the private belief society was already being given clues to this very subject. But slowly to give it time to assimilate into mainstream thought.

Pop surveyed the men surrounding the granite table, stood up and said, "Well, we ain't gonna find out sitting here. Mount up!"

Canyon walls shook as every bike in the clearing fired up at once. Some bikes cold from sitting had popped and backfired echoeing sharp staccato shots. Sand filtered off of the mesa walls in mini avalanches. Pungent fumes of oil and fuel permeated the dry desert air.

Almost as one the riders kicked into gear and rode out single file. Heading into the Valley of the Sun.

Pain's Tyranny.

2008-12-11T15:53:00.008-07:00

Morning.

Aw, shit don't you ever let up?

Sorry just doing my job.

Sorry, did I just hear you apologize?

No. Just being funny.

Funny? You and humor have never been friends. And what's this shit about 'just doing your job?' To be this effective you have to love your work.

Oh , but I do very much. But thanks for the compliment.

Wasn't meant as one. It my way of sarcastically telling you to fuck off.

That's not very nice. If I did that I'd miss all the fun of my job.

This is your idea of a good time?

Hell yes, If I'm really effective today my buddies might show up.

Your buddies? I wouldn't think you had a friend in the world.

Friends? I have many. Some come around more than others.

In fact, at a lot of our parties, they all show up together in groups.

Des and Dep usually arrive together. Addy, Crim and Pov almost always hang tight. And I'm always the reason they show. Even if I'm there just in memory. In fact here we've had great times. You're just too stubborn to let Addy and Crim in. Pov doesn't even get all the way in the door. Can't say he hasn't tried. If we keep at it maybe even the honored guest Sui will come.

You, I can't stop. Sometimes Des and Dep sneak in. But Addy and Crim can kiss my ass. And Sui? That fucker is never getting in.

He almost did a few times.

I'm not saying I couldn't hear him. I'm just telling you, he'll never be welcome. Besides I only heard him because of what they gave me to get rid of you.

The fact that I'm never going away and in time I'll grow stronger; doesn't factor in? How about someday when I take your ability to ride?

Who says you can?

Being evasive won't change the facts. Don't forget I live here and I see and affect all.

Perhaps so. But then, I'm not exactly on my own against you either.

Oh please, who've you got? Hop can't stand against me, not for long anyway. Dig leaves every time I really start to push. And Res? He'll only stand by you for so long.

You forgot Prid and Luv. Also you forget I have outside help as well. They are certainly no lightweights.

If they were so strong, you wouldn't have accepted payment to beat me. And as a result Sui got stronger.

True, but when he raised his voice, I could barely hear him over the din of their support.

In the end though I will be your legacy.

Like hell! I'll never bow to you.

You sure? I already win against you everyday.

Small battles perhaps...but never the war. You came in wearing the cloak of another. Someday they will figure out how to unmask you. Then you'll be undone.

That sounds like Hop speaking. Not really your words.

I freely admit that he speaks for me sometimes. He's also backed by outside influences. I'll break free of your prision someday.

Those outside influences you speak of; how do you know they just won't get tired of it, and split?

Because I'm honest with them. They are well aware of what you're trying to do.

The one who lies beside you, how do you know she'll always take your side?

You have greatly underestimated her. She almost singlehandedly kicked Sui's ass. He won't come around again anytime soon. As for the rest of my supporters I don't always let them know you live here.

Why do I shame you?

No, you are a pain in the ass to everybody. Just some more than others. Everybody knows what you're all about.

Cute play on my name.

I call you what you are. Your the one who calls yourself Chronic Myofasciitis. You can muddle my thinking, make it hard to do what I love to do. You even try to destroy my body. I'll just use you to be better at my ability.

The best of my work is in spite of you. You may slow me down. But in the end I get it done. And according to Hop, I'll even kick your ass out someday. Try as you like, I'm still getting out of this bed today and holding my own against you.

I'll be back tomorrow.

Who are you kidding, you'll be here all day. You never leave my side.

We'll talk again tomorrow.

No shit.

But know this in advance. You will never win the war. You will never be my Legacy.

Cast in order of appearance:

Pain.. as Himself.

Me.. as myself

Des... played by Despair.

Dep ..played by Depression

Addy ..Played by Addiction.

Crim .. Played by criminal.

Pov .. Played by Poverty.

Sui .. played by Suicide.

Hop.. played by Hope.

Dig.. played by Dignity.

Res.. Played by Resolve.

Prid.. Played by Pride.

Luv.. Played by love.

And a very special guest star.

Her.. Played by Ann.

Along with a much appreciated supporting cast of Bro's/Sis's too numerous to list here.

Produced and directed by Big Daddy Caveman.

An AZHOLE PERFORMANCE production.

BSA blues

2008-11-21T23:48:00.006-07:00

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I just took in trade for some work a 65 BSA frame. 650 engine and wheels

I dug out some parts and threw them on.

A old triumph front ribbed fender for the back.

A maltese cross tail-light on a old sissy bar. placed at the top. instead of using it as a tailight I'm thinking a leather pad for a backrest.

A tank that was rusty and caved in but I couldn't bear not to restore so I cut it open and striaghtened.

I haven't decided what to do about the oil tank, I have several to pick from.

Apehangers of course.

short stack exhaust.....obnoxiusly loud...this a 10.5 compresson engine.

Bates headlight.....perhaps 2 staggered one over the other. How we ran them in the seventies.

I'd like a 8 over girder or twisted springer front forks.....

Pagan gold or big metal flake green......or perhaps pearl orange..[yes I know Ann you hate that color] but it's for me ...not for you
You already stole one of my bikes.;]

Maybe even a metalflake king and queen seat.

But then I discovered a dillema.

After measuring the engine, with a few mods this thing would fit in my old servicar frame.

Be a helluva lot cheaper than finding a harley flathead and tranny.

I have a spare triumph 650 that would bolt right into this chopper frame [BSA and Triumph used the same frame configuration]

But I already have a triumph chopper.

And a BSA chopper is kinda rare nowadays especially with a lightning rocket engine.... very rare.

On the other hand Rascal would get to ride.

I could also use the trike for B.AC.A rides for the kids.

Hmmmm............

Desert Vengeance cont 4

2008-11-11T22:38:00.015-07:00

Animal's legs were sending his brain mixed signals, the heat generated by the mighty twin was warming his calves and the cooling from the nitrous lines under the gas tank freezed his kneecaps. That is , if his gray matter had even a chance of listening. Preoccupied as it was with handling June at 180 miles an hour.

Animals senses already approached overload.

Hanging desert valley turns and twists. Busting free of mother earths gravity at every hill crest. The snarling Crocker was in her element.
Rapidly braking and downshifting, hanging his boot to the pavement. Animal broadsided around hairpin turns.

The ghosts of every ancient dirt tracker watched in pride.

Straightening out on long straightaways, Animal would tap the nitrous switch and send the spoked invader wheel reaching for altitude. The wheel's ceramic bearings allowed the rim to spin smoothly giving June the appearnce of clawing at the moon. Instinct was the driver. Animals conscious thoughts as always, centered around the mission at hand.

For a secretive agency like the N.S.A to release a surveillance video of the
'theft' of government property. Whatever was on those chips was definitely a national security issue. You don't screw with an American biker's family and brotherhood. You damn sure don't mess with his country.

Awakened from her peaceful slumber June seemed to be looking for payback. The supercharger's whine screamed a song of retribution.

Reaching the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona, Animal slowed June to a legal speed. Wanted by everyone and anyone who ever carried a badge and then some, it wouldn't do to announce his arrival with a dozen speed cops on his tail.

Turning onto Camelback Road from Grand Avenue, Animal cruised the three miles to his destination. pulling into the gravel lot and rolling up to the building's entrance.

Animal dismounted and walked to the bar's swinging doors. Looking up at the sign overhead spelling out Panama Red's, Animal smiled and entered. Whoever had been listening in on the phone call with Commissioner Henderson probably wouldn't enjoy the private joke.

The soft neon glow filtering through the haze of cigar smoke cast a pale light on the military bearing of the man seated at the booth tucked in the corner. Commissioner Henderson waved Animal over and motioned to the waitress.

Animal slid onto the bench facing across from Henderson. "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I would not have believed it possible."

Henderson looked at Animal quizzically and asked, "What wasn't possible?"

Animal replied, "The last time I saw you I said there's no way you could get any damn uglier....yet you pulled it off'."

Henderson laughed and responded, "This is the kind of response I'd expect from the poster child for outlawing relations to marry."

After the waitress had served their drinks. Henderson took on a serious tone and said, "We've got a lot to talk about."

Producing a folder from his briefcase Henderson pulled out a series of photos and placed them on the table. Pointing to the photo of the gate crashers he said, "This is the couple who stole the chips."

Animal, studying the photos, couldn't make out the face of the driver. The passengers helmet also hid her face. Barely visible in the picture you could see a few lines of a tattoo on the girl's leg. The chopper looked to be an old XS750 Yamaha. Looking over the bike he saw a custom made oil cooler prominently sculptured into the bike's front down tubes.

He suddenly realized he knew the bike and the girl on the back. With this realization came the knowledge of who the rider was. Animal asked, "Did you get anymore info on what was taken?"

Henderson nodded his head slowly and replied, "It's not quite clear yet but I did get some intel unofficially. It all has to do with a file named Mayan Dawn and a case from the late 80's."

Animal's heart skipped a note when Henderson mentioned the name of the file. Instantly aware of the magnitude of the case, Animal instinctively looked around the bar and saw two men entering with their guns drawn.

Both Henderson and Animal sized up the situation. Grabbing the table in unision they flipped it between them and the gunmen and both dove for the exit. Multiple shots rang out. Animal heard Henderson groan as he was hit in the leg. Henderson fell in the doorway blocking Animal's escape.
Never one to leave a friend behind, Animal reached down to aid Henderson and looked behind him to see one of the gunmen taking careful aim.

Pop and Kathy headed out of the bunker on Delores to rendezvous with Marduk at Devils Girdle.

Like all the bikes Animal and Pop had built, this old '62 panhead had a few tricks of her own on her duo glide frame.

Able to outrun and even out handle a race-prepped sporty. This ol' girl's suspension could take to off-roading like a luxury dirt scrambler. Crunching rocks, branches and cactus beneath her meaty tires, she rode like a cloud over the uneven desert terrain.

The twin peaks that signaled the entrance to Devils Girdle towered over the landscape. Rolling into the pass in second gear Delores shook the canyon walls with thunderous echoes.

Pop deftly throttled the panhead through the narrow gap that gave the hideaway its title. Rolling to a stop near the center, Pop set Delores on her side stand and felt his chest swell with pride as he surveyed the surroundings.

Parked neatly around the perimeter of the canyon walls sat one hundred and forty bikes. Standing in a semicircle near a granite table slab at the center, arms folded at their chests, the brothers who answered the call waited silently. From all points of the southwest, these men had all at one time had stood beside Animal and fought for their country in various situations. The most skilled fighters and riders wearing colors of various MC's and RA's had gathered to offer their assistance to a well respected brother of the road.

Pop switched off Delores and stepped off to embrace the men who had come to his son's call.

The '66 Sporty

2008-10-21T23:12:00.001-07:00

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Desert Venegence cont 3

2008-09-30T00:55:00.016-07:00

Animal and Pop winced at the high pitched yell reverberating along the long cavernous walls of the bunker. Kathy had started wailing as soon as the reinforced door had swung shut. The sounds of the barn collapsing overhead did not penetrate the reinforced walls. It also didn't let sound escape, giving no relief to the assault on their ears.

"Hey, quit your damn yelling, it's over for now, you're safe!" yelled Pop.

"Safe. What the hell are you talking about? We just got shot at by a jet plane, it destroyed your entire property. It's gonna come back and attack again." replied Kathy.

"The barn was shot to hell. Not many people know about this bunker, they'll think we were killed. This place could just about take a direct hit from a missle. It will buy us some time before they send someone to check for our bodies in all that wreckage." said Animal.

"We'd better come up with a plan damn fast. Whoever sent that plane knew you were here. I imagine it won't take them long to find about the bunker, too," said Pop.

"I agree, however with no official records of any of the extensive renovations you and I have made over the years to this place. They'll probably think it's still a dirt covered shack like it was when you first bought this place. No one will believe we could have survived," replied Animal.

Sweeping her arms out over the various motorcycles and vehicles that were parked neatly along the sides of the acre-sized cavern. Kathy asked, "Just what the hell is this place?"

Laughing, Pop replied, "This, my dear, is the ultimate man-cave. We built this when Animal was still undercover. It has all the toys a secret agent would ever need. James Bond would need a cold shower if he ever set foot in here."

Kathy stared at the two men like they had lost their minds.

Animal shot Pop a withering glare. It had always bugged the hell out of him when Pop would bust his chops about being a "secret agent man". When he was particularly liquored up he would even start singing it.

Pop saw the look and started laughing again. "Easy boy, your super agent wristwatch will get all funky and explode or something."

Animal took a step and started chasing Pop across the bunker. Pop was laughing at his own quip so hard he nearly fell to the floor. His words had produced the desired effect. The tension had been broken. Even Kathy began giggling at the scene unfolding before her. The weight of the days events gave way to outright laughter.

Animal looked at his two nearly hysterical companions. Shaking his head, he walked toward the office set along the back wall, and said, "I gotta check on some equipment. I'll leave you two clowns to your own devices."

Entering the office he grabbed the bottom of a life size portrait of Lee Marvin smiling evilly on his Harley from the movie The Wild One. Hinged at the top, it swung up and out from the wall. Behind the picture was a door with a combination lock. Spinning the code, he pulled the reinforced door open wide.

The walls of the room held different weapons that Animal had confiscated over the years in his career as a customs agent. Set on a pedestal in the center of the room, his black Desert Eagle pistol quietly awaited it's owner's return. Opening a door in the pedestal's side he pulled out a shoulder holster and put it on.

Replaying the days events in his mind, Animal couldn't shake the idea that this just wasn't adding up. His intuition was warning him with questions he didn't care for. The A10 attack was too quick in arriving. Kathy's behavior suggested a comfort with the situation that didn't jive with what he'd been told. Holstering his weapon, he walked to the rear of the room and took down a pair of sculptured carbon fiber saddlebags that were hanging on a steel pin. After he checked the contents, he headed back out to the motorcycles parked along the walls.

Kathy and Pop sat silent, reality had started to sink in.

Walking past the many bikes that he and Pop had built over the years, he thought of the choices before him. Custom Harleys, Triumphs and Indians.

There was only one real choice for a mission like this. One bike sat covered in the center of the floor. He pulled the softcover off. The lights overhead danced on the paint. Chrome sparkled.

The silence was broken by an audible gasp from Kathy. Even Pop stared reverently at the reveal of the legendary steed.

Famous in it's day for being a well built 'super bike' the 39 Crocker had been a hand assembled jewel of engineering. Extensively modified and upgraded well beyond anything the original designers could have ever dreamed possible, Animal and Pop had transformed her into modern sport bike killer.

Cut and bobbed chrome fenders swept over the carbon fiber invader rims shod in super sticky custom tread Pirelli tires. A black and gold painted aluminum coffin styled gas tank sat perched on the backbone. The bike's name, "June" lettered in 24-carat gold was flanked by twin nitrous bottles slung along the bike's light titanium frame. Double xenon headlights sat perched on the custom Ohlins super bike forks triple tree and a minuscule taillight was blended artfully into the bike's rear fender design. With no tach or speedometer, the prominent supercharger told anybody who cared to notice...this Huntress was out for blood.

Attaching the saddlebags, he opened one and pulled out a satellite phone. He placed a call to his long-time brothers in the wind. The voice that answered grunted, "Yep." Animal smiled and replied, "Classy way to answer a call as always, Marduk. I see that being named after an ancient god didn't impart you any manners."

''Animal! I was just thinking of you! I just saw a gawd-ugly old scooter bitch and figured you had to be close by."

"Hey, I haven't touched yer mama since you crawled out. I took one look at you and started humping Buffaloes. I figured the kids would be better looking," said Animal.

"No shit, really? I think I just ate your date," quipped Marduk.

"Why, did it have a creamy filling?" 'laughed Animal.

"What graces us with your annoying whiny-assed call?" asked Marduk.

Animal's voice took a serious tone as he described the events of the day.

Marduk didn't speak for a bit. Then he replied, "Whatever you need bro, I'll send Oracle to get the package left at the rest area and then round up the rest of the brothers. Meet at Devil's Girdle?" Animal agreed, snapped the receiver off and placed it back in the saddlebag. "Devil's Girdle," Animal whispered to Pop.

Pop nodded in assent. Devil's Girdle was a familiar location to him. It was a pass deep in the superstition mountains that narrowed to the width of one bike earning it's name whenever the club would race to the campsite. With only one way in or out it was an easily defensible position.

"You take Kathy and meet up there with Marduk. I gotta go see Chief Henderson," Animal said to Pop. Kathy looked around the bunker and asked "How? The door is buried under a ton of rubble!" Pop chuckled, "You think we only had one way out?" Pointing to the opposite end of the bunker, he continued, "There are three separate tunnels leading out through the mountains."

Animal stepped over June's frame, settled in and fired her to life. The reverberating twin echoed loudly off the walls. Stepping her into gear, the bike rolled smoothly out of the bunker, reaching the tunnel entrance. Animal twisted the throttle, and flipped the nitrous switch. June revved instantly, looking like a star ship reaching warp speed she tore out along the mountain shaft.

Pop looked over at Kathy. "Satan's gonna have to put up a no more vacancy sign when these guys are done."

Intermission

2008-09-29T21:11:00.002-07:00

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Anybody notice my new sissy bar?

Desert Vengeance continued...

2008-09-12T20:29:00.004-07:00

Kathy's parched and sun burnt skin seemed to sizzle as she lowered herself into the cool waters of the natural jacuzzi that nature had provided beneath the overhanging ledge of the rocks in Oak creek. Four hours of hard desert riding had taken its toll on Heather and her riders. Finding respite along the oaks and mesquite trees along the river, Animal had set up camp for the night. Listening to the rolling waters quiet rhythms and Heather's ticking and gurgling as the steel and aluminum cooled, Animal unpacked his saddle bag retrieving drinks and a glass mason jar of chili, packed carefully that very morning. Animal chuckled to himself, “At least I learned some skills in the service.” He was painfully aware the fact that anything surviving after today’s ride was something bordering on a near miracle. He set the jar atop a large sunlit boulder. He'd let the desert sun’s natural heat warm the contents.

Watching Kathy contentedly relaxing in the shade, his mind replayed the day’s events; eleven customers had paid the coroner’s son's tuition to college in the space of an hour. A scrap yard had received a recycler's bounty, the local constabulary’s paychecks just went into overtime, hell’s denizens were dancing the Macarena in celebration of its new arrivals and Heather’s tanks were almost empty of fuel. All for a bunch of computer chips that sat buried a hundred miles from here. What the hell was so damn important on those chips that killing was necessitated, who was looking to gain? And how far was the extent of the threat to Animal and Kathy? Knowing no answer would be forthcoming from the desert air; he got up, undressed and waded out to join Kathy.

Settling beside her Animal breathed a sigh of relief as the cool waters swept away the dust and heat from his dry wind burned skin. Watching with a sly smile Kathy stood up and washed the dirt and grime from his back and shoulders. Low setting rays of sunlight sparkled in the crystals of liquid rhinestones on her well toned form. Droplets ran down her breast and fell from her gold piercings. Her hair gently brushed his chest as she reached over his arms to splash water down his crimson burnt skin. Sliding over to sit beside him she softly said, “Thank you for saving me out there today. If you hadn't come along when you did...,” the expression on her face said it all.

Animal didn't reply with words he just smiled and brushed the hair from her face. Kathy placed her head on his arm as they watched as the sun made it's farewell to the day with a spectacular array of colors in varying shades of orange, reds and purples. The last fading rays reflected off the clouds giving the appearance of neon tipped brushstrokes seemingly applied by the unseen hand of Michelangelo. Animal gently gathered Kathy up in his arms and carried her over to the blanket. Setting her down, he grasped her hand and said, “I'll be right back.” He walked over to the nearby boulder, retrieving the sun cooked chili and reaching into his cooler procured two bottles of beer and some utensils, and then headed back to join Kathy on the blanket. "Hope you like chili and beer.”

“Right about now I could eat lizards raw, but it just so happens I love chili and beer!” smiled Kathy.

After lighting the pile of mesquite surrounded by rocks Animal had set up earlier, they ate in silence watching the stars coalesce into view.
“Tomorrow we will ride to a place a good friend of mine lives. Then we will decide who to contact and what to do about all this.” said Animal.
She nodded in ascent and lay on her back pressing in against his hip. Animal reclined beside her, pulled her in tight and wrapped a blanket around them.

Morning came with the harsh return of sunlight reflecting over the waters of the stream. After putting on the river washed clothes they had left drying on the branches of a greasewood bush, Animal and Kathy erased all traces of having been there, packed Heather for the ride out. Animal pointed out over the desert. “Pop lives about fifty miles past that mountain in the distance. Once we get there we'll be better able to decide what we need to do.”

Heather awakened from her slumber shook and rumbled to life. Animal stepped her into gear and rolled her onto the dirt road leading away from the river. Keeping Heather’s speed slow to conserve what little gas she still had. The miles to the nearby mountain seemed to grow with each passing minute.

Spotting a silvery flash out in the nearby wash Animal stopped Heather, shut her off and speaking to Kathy said, “Wait here.” He dismounted and walked toward the source. An abandoned four-wheel drive truck was resting partially covered by the sand of the dry river bottom. Animal, hoping against hope, twisted the gas cap off the fuel tank, leaned in close and sniffed the fumes emanating forth. Gas!

Looking inside the truck’s cab, he found a three gallon water jug behind the driver’s seat. Pulling it out, he placed it under the truck’s gas line. Opening his multi-tool, he sliced the line and golden liquid poured forth into the jug. Elated at his sudden good fortune, Animal didn't even notice his muscles’ painful protest in carrying the jug back to Heather. He topped off her twin fat bob tanks and tossed the jug back toward the wash.
Animal shoved Heather’s kick start and she responded with her characteristic roar. Not having to conserve fuel Animal twisted the throttle ran Heather up thru the gears and covered the miles ahead in just over an hour.

Arriving at the well isolated ranch, Heather was ridden into the barn and covered over with a hay tarp. Animal and Kathy headed towards the main house. Sitting at the picnic table on the long covered porch, Pop was waiting with three hearty breakfasts and a pitcher of hot fresh coffee.

Animal smiled and said, “You were expecting us?” Laughing, Pop replied, “That old shovel of yours is so damn loud you couldn't sneak up on a Stones concert and Heather's distinctive bellow makes her all the more identifiable. Besides, you two are all over the news this morning, something about espionage? I knew you'd be arriving soon, after all where the hell else were you gonna go?”

Animal sat down and motioned Kathy to join them. She walked over slowly and sat next to Animal across from Pop while he continued on, “I made some phone calls and it seems that you two are wanted for stealing top secret files from the Tucson NSA Agency. There's a million dollar bounty on your heads dead or alive.”

“Are you gonna turn us in?” asked Kathy.

Pop could hardly keep from falling of the bench in laughter at that question. “Animal is more than a brother and son to me...no one will be turning anybody in around here, I can assure you. I will make a few calls and we will have trusted brother bikers up here in no time flat.” Animal finishing off the last bit of corned beef hash on his plate, stood up and said, “I'll go make some calls myself and see if I can get a little more detail concerning the case.” He walked into the cabin and closed the door.

Pop and Kathy continued eating. Kathy looked up at Pop and asked, “How did he get the name Animal?”

“Well what did he tell you?”

“He never said, but I could guess,” she said suggestively.

“Well then, you'd be wrong,” chortled Pop. “I gave him that name myself when he was just a young lad. I found him being jumped by a gang of teenagers, he fought them all off like a caged Animal...the name stuck even after I adopted him as my son.”

“What about his parents?”

“They were killed in Mexico by a drug smuggler for refusing to help bring cocaine across the border.”

“What else can you tell me about him?”

“Nothing,” Pop replied, “If you have any questions about Animal, you’re better off asking him yourself.”

Animal was never known for wasting time when it came to finding the details of a case. Today certainly would be no exception. Picking up the old style rotary phone he allowed himself a momentary smile. Things never change around this house, he thought. Pop was as stubborn and predictable as triple digit temperatures in a Sonoran desert summer. Animal remembered asking as a teenager why they couldn't have a new phone with touch tone dialing and Pop's gruff reply, “Why spend money for new-fangled phone when it could be better spent on our bikes?” Back then, Animal couldn't argue against the logic, thinking to himself, “Still can't.”

Placing a call to a direct line of the head of U.S Border Protection Service using his old undercover alias, the call was placed straight through.

“Commissioner Henderson speaking.”

“George it's me, Animal. I need to know what the hell all these espionage charges are all about. Who is claiming I had any part in this?”

“All I can tell you is they are showing footage around the agency of a biker and his female passenger busting through the gate at N.S.A I checked the footage myself and the chopper’s three exhaust pipes exiting from the front of the engine told me clearly it wasn't you. Commissioner Henderson was a longtime collector of rare vintage American bikes and knew exactly what to look for. “Somebody is setting you up. And they're doing a damn good job of it.”

“What is it they are saying was stolen?”

“N.S.A is being tight-lipped about the details. Our division of Homeland Security is being kept in the dark. Even the White House is keeping silent about this. None of my contacts there will mention anything about it. Whatever it was you stepped in, I hope you have a long snorkel because this is some deep shit. I'll keep looking to see what I can dig up. How can I get hold of you?”

Animal replied, “I still have the satellite phone from the Panama mission around here someplace, call me on that, I doubt anybody will still be monitoring that old frequency. Even if they are, the built in encryption should still hold them off for a while.”

Pop's sudden yell to “Run” was followed by a sudden rain of ordinance that tore half the house to splinters in a fraction of an instant. A growling sound and a sudden boom of a jet engine passing overhead told Animal what was happening: an A10 gunship was firing on the house.

Jumping through an open window he sprinted toward the barn following Pop and Kathy. Once inside they ran to an old horse stall and swept away the hay covering a door. Grasping the clasp and swinging the door ajar, they jumped down the steps to an underground bunker. The bunker had been part of the property when Pop had purchased it in a government auction back in the early seventies. It had been used as an underground hydroponics lab for growing marijuana.

The A10's gun shredded the barn just as they reached the bottom steps leading into the interior. Pop looked at Animal, pointed to the ceiling and said, “I don't know what the hell you got yourself into son, but I can guarantee you there's gonna be some serious payback for this.”

Desert Vengeance

2008-09-05T19:38:00.003-07:00

85 miles per hour was the sweet spot on Heather, cresting the long rise and peering down the miles long straight stretch of deserted highway.

Animal was kicking back and enjoying life just for the sake of it. Boots on the forward controls, his left hand splayed across the bottom of his 'king tank', right hand palming the throttle, twin cylinders singing a note of contentment.

‘Life is good’ was the mantra repeating itself over and over in his head.

The air was so crisp, clear and cool. Animal's bike had an extra helping of torque and horsepower today...Heather was loving the extra charge of oxygen.

A momentary blip of the throttle and Heather jumped to over a 100 in an instant. Rolling off the throttle brought the iron mare back to 85. Animal yelled out over the bike's sound an earsplitting, "Yeaaaah!"

Having no demands on his time, a pocket full of cash and no particular destination in mind, it was the ultimate taste of freedom.
Reaching the end of the long straightaway he saw a rest area up on his right, smoothly downshifting, he slowed and rolled up to a shaded picnic table, shifted into neutral, switched the bike off and kicked out the side-stand. Stepping off the bike, he allowed himself a long slow stretch.

Pulling a pack of smokes and a tall cool drink from the cooler in his saddlebag, he proceeded over to the table. Instead of sitting he lay on his back across the table and watched the eagles soaring overhead. 'Yep, life is good." he whispered aloud to the majestic gliding birds. He thought to himself, "This day would be absolutely perfect if I had a lady to share it with." Another voice in his head replied, "Still, it's a damn great day.

In his relaxed state of mind he started to drift of to sleep. "Mister?" a voice from the nearby sagebrush called out to him. Thinking for a moment that he was dreaming Animal almost didn't respond. "Hey Mister." came the voice again. Animal rolled over off of the table and walked toward the sound.

'Hello?" answered Animal questioningly. A young woman emerged from the bushes and asked, "Can you spare a drink?" Animal looked around the park and saw no vehicle other than his bike and asked, "Where the hell did you come from?"

“My boyfriend kicked me out of the car yesterday and left me here,” she replied.

“You've been here overnight?” Animal replied as he walked over to the bush and peered under it,”With no blanket or anything?”

Standing back and taking stock of what the girl was wearing; Animal couldn't believe the girl was still alive. The desert can get damn cold at night, all she had on was a pair of Daisy Duke shorts and a halter top with knee high boots. It wasn't exactly the sort of clothing that fostered overnight survival.

“If that's the case, this is one tough chick,” Animal chuckled to himself. Still he found it odd that she was looking no worse for wear.

“Do you need a ride into town?” Animal asked. “Yes I do,” replied the girl, “but I don't think I want to ride on a motorcycle. I have never been on one and they look very scary. I'm afraid I'll fall off.”

Animal smiled and thought to himself, I've heard this a few times. ”You don't need to worry; there is a sissy bar on the back to keep that from happening. All you gotta do is keep yourself centered on the seat and hold onto me if you need to.”

The girl looked at Animal and over at his bike and seemed to be contemplating whether to take the ride or face the prospect of another night in the desert. It didn't take long to make a decision. Cautiously she replied, “I guess it would be okay to ride into town...If you ride slow and easy.”

Animal laughed and said, “Don't worry; I'll get you there safe and sound.” He pointed to the picnic table and continued, “But first lets get you something to drink and I have a couple of sandwiches in my saddlebags. You'll feel better after you have had something in your stomach. By the way what's your name?”

At first she didn't respond. She looked as if she was wrestling with the idea of giving this stranger her name. Finally she half whispered, “Kathy.” Sensing her discomfort at being asked, Animal didn't pursue the subject any further.

As the two just sat and ate quietly, Animal had a recurring thought that all wasn't as it appeared...but couldn't see any evidence to the contrary. Dismissing it as old habits from his former career as an undercover customs agent, he relegated the idea to the back of his mind.

“Would you mind if I had one of your smokes?” she asked. “Help yourself,” said Animal. Drawing a long drag from her cigarette, Animal could see that Kathy relaxed a bit. Finishing it and stubbing it out on the concrete slab she looked over at Animal and said, “I'm ready whenever you are.”

Animal packed up the contents of his saddlebags and threw a leg over the bike, motioning for her to get on the back. “Just place your foot here on this peg and swing your leg over.” She did as he asked. Animal wondered if she did it just a little too easily for a novice.

Bringing Heather to life, he waited for the knee-squeeze that always accompanied a new girl’s first reaction to the shaking and loud rumble. When she didn’t respond at all it struck him as more than a little odd. The thought nagged at him as he shifted into gear and pulled out from the rest area.

After he got up to a cruising speed of 70 mph, Kathy leaned back against the sissy bar and Animal could feel her settle in for the ride. 20 minutes later, as they were approaching town, her casual posture almost made Animal wonder if she had fallen asleep.

Rolling down the town's main drag, Animal saw a group of bikes parked in front of a local tavern. He slowed and started to turn into a parking spot. Kathy suddenly seemed to come to life, and now he felt the familiar knee-squeeze, extremely tight, and she grabbed his shoulders and pleaded into his ear, "Don't stop here, keep going, get out of town!" Animal twisted the throttle and took off.

Reaching a few miles outside of town, Animal pulled over to the side of the road, shut off the bike and turned on his seat and said, “OK, what gives? What the hell was that all about?”

“I haven't exactly been truthful with you.” she replied.
“No shit. But now would be the time to come clean,” said Animal.
Tears were welling up in her eyes as she looked at Animal and mumbled, “Those bikes you saw in town....they are looking for me.”

“What the hell for?” Animal yelled. He was getting a sinking feeling in his gut as he waited for her response. This 'good day' was looking like it was going to hell pretty damn quickly. Suddenly, Kathy jumped to a standing position on Heather’s foot pegs and screamed, “They’re heading this way!”

Glancing over his shoulder, Animal witnessed ten sport bikes screaming out of town and heading in their direction. Animal figured an explanation was gonna have to wait. Waiting on what sounded like a pack of angry diuretic mosquitoes didn't look to be a healthy pastime. Animal started Heather; her angry, deep-throated bellow spurred into action with a twist of the throttle. He shifted into gear and laying rubber for 20 feet, hurdled out on the asphalt. Knowing that even on her best day, Heather couldn't outrun the pursuing multicolored wraith that was rapidly approaching.

Looking for a means of escape, Animal saw a Cadillac heading into town towards them. Figuring to at least have a witness to what, at this point, wasn’t looking good, Animal aimed to close in on the vehicle.
The oncoming Caddy driver was less than a quarter mile away and closing quickly. Animal looked into his rear view mirror to see the pursuing bikes no less than a hundred feet behind him and one was almost abreast of Heather.

“Damn.” thought Animal, “they caught up quick.” The lead rider pulled almost even alongside Heather. Looking forward, Animal saw the Caddy driver stick his hand out and before he had time to react, he saw a flash and heard a loud pop. Instinctively swerving, the bullet ricocheted off the triple clamp of his front forks. Adrenaline caused his eyes to follow the path of the bullet, and then he watched as the rider next to him flipped backwards off of his mount as his face plate imploded. The now rider-less bike continued on following a straight line, narrowly missing the oncoming Caddy.

“One down,” flashed in Animals consciousness. Not wanting to be in line for another shot from the Caddy driver, he swerved sharply to the left across the path of the Caddy. The driver, reacting to the sudden move, yanked his wheel left and in doing so, had turned into the headlights of the onrushing bikes. Two bikes became a mangled twisted decoration of the Caddy’s grill. The helmeted riders flew along the hood and into the windshield. Before the Caddy driver could get the fabled image of life flashing before his eyes...it was game over.

Animal witnessed the melee in his mirrors just before Heather decided she was a trail bike, taking to the air across a drain gully, barely clearing with the front tire. The rear tire landed partially on the ledge and forward momentum pushed Heather out into the desert.

Animal turned to see three more sport bikes go down; one high siding and sliding into the roadside ditch, two others didn't make the leap, impacting straight into the side. The resulting effect looked as if some lunatic farmer was planting wheels. Animal's innate sense of wit popped the question, “I wonder if that counts as a bumper crop?” Before his subconscious could respond with a retort, Animal rolled the throttle open wide and hauled ass over the barren desert.

The harsh terrain was giving Animal a fighting chance of escape. Heather’s rugged frame, born from decades of dirt and board-track racing was sufficient enough to handle the strain; the factory had built her well. The pursuing plastic-covered rice-rockets could not hold up to that kind of abuse. Animal noted that the remaining four riders didn't even attempt it. They headed down the road looking for a pathway leading in his direction.

Animal saw a trail heading up between the mountains ahead and steered Heather toward it. Downshifting and letting Heather’s ample torque pull them up the mountainside, he spotted an old mine entrance. Rolling in just enough to be out of sight, he shut off the bike and set her on her kickstand.
Turning to his ashen-faced passenger, he could see the fear in Kathy’s eyes. He realized growling at her wasn't gonna help. After taking a minute to breathe and give her a chance to regain some composure Animal calmly asked, "Are you ready to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Kathy wailed, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, so, so sorry! I didn't mean to get you mixed-up in all this."

"Just what is all this?" questioned Animal as he pointed outside. "Why are all those people after you?"

"The riders you saw are computer chip smugglers. I was catching a ride from a guy I knew, and we were just supposed to be going on a long cruise. When we stopped at that rest area you met me at, I had opened his backpack to get a drink when I saw computer chips stamped 'Classified - Government Property'. The leader of the group saw me and pulled a gun. I ran into the bushes to get away. They all started running after me, so I jumped down a rocky ledge and found a hiding spot. That's when I realized that I still had the backpack in my hand. Two of the group passed by almost on top of me and I heard them screaming that they needed to find the bag because they were supposed to meet the buyer today. They searched all morning, then I heard them arguing that I must have doubled back and could have gotten a ride into town. At that point, they all ran to their bikes and took off toward town. Later when you pulled in, I wasn't sure if you were the buyer they had been waiting for. That's why I lied to you."

For a very brief moment Animal thought back over the day and wondered if somehow he had accidentally ingested some peyote for breakfast and this was just a bad trip. The pain in his aching back from the gut-busting ride told him that no, this was real.

Animal had dealt with smugglers when he was still a customs agent; he knew too well the lengths they would go to avoid being caught. This was a dangerous game of cat and mouse he had stumbled into. Animal got a mischievous gleam in his eye and thought too bad for kitty because this particular mouse had a nasty bite.

Looking over at Kathy he tossed her pack of smokes and calmly asked her to stay put while he went out to assess the surroundings. Stepping out of the mine into the exposed mountainside he looked over the desert below, two separate dust plumes below told him the four riders had paired off and took different paths. He could see that at least one pair had found the old mining road and would soon be heading up his way.

Animal decided that it would be rude of him not to be a gracious host and prepare a welcome. Heading back into the mine he opened his saddlebag and pulled out a leather pouch. Untying the knotted string the contents unrolled to reveal a silver gilded pommel of a custom made bowie knife. Animal reflected for an instant that it had been 5 years since the blade had seen daylight. The custom hilted knife had been a gift from a grateful family that had been threatened by drug-runners. Animal had saved the mother and daughter from being shot in a firefight. Shot in the thigh he had still managed to kill two attackers with his bare hands. The resulting wound from the firefight forced him to early retirement. Extreme cold or humidity always gave a noticeable limp in his gait. Still, he'd gladly pay the price again anytime to save a woman or child. Unsheathing the blade Animal heard Kathy gasp in shock. Attaching the scabbard to his belt he walked over to her and spoke in a soft tone, “Don’t worry, I will get us through this”.

Kathy looked and saw the Machiavellian twinkle in his eyes and his quiet confidence. She somehow knew the pursuing killers had just picked a fight they had no clue how to win.

Animal retrieved a 50 foot roll of stainless steel multi-strand cable, ten times as strong as the best test fishing line ever devised and just as thin. He pulled out a custom purpose built multi-tool and it's nylon-leather constructed sheath and attached it to the inside of his vest. The last item from the collection was a telescoping nightstick, which, when collapsed fit into his left boot’s sewn in holster. Animal carried no gun; he stopped carrying when he retired. Too many mothers’ sons had met their (deserved) express ticket to hell at the end of his desert eagle. Remembering that it had been his job didn't always make it easier to sleep at night. Animal didn't particularly like killing, but had no compunctions when it was necessary for survival. Then there was days like today...when they came out shooting first.

Animal was making reservations for the sport riders. Lucifer was gonna gain few more arrivals today. Hope he's got his furnace warmed up, thought Animal.

Stepping out from the entrance once again, Animal headed down the trail away from the mine. 1500 feet down the mountain he found the place to spring his trap. Towering saguaro cactuses flanked both sides of the mining path. Tying the steel filament across the roadway just above handle bar height would certainly do the trick. Animal walked 100 feet back up the road, paused to light a smoke and waited for his guests.

The yapping cylinders of the oncoming riders gained in intensity as they saw Animal standing in the road casually smoking a cigarette. Furious at his audacity, both riders downshifted and poured on the fuel. Twin helmets went sailing out over the desert air as the headless bikers and their whining mounts flew forward and exploded on impact with the boulders along the trail.

Animal surveyed the carnage and knew the smoke and flames would be seen for miles. He knew he had gotten off easy with the first pursuers. He wouldn't be so lucky with the remaining two. He knew they would be aggressive in their approach. Heading back into the mine, Animal told Kathy it was time to go.

Rolling in second gear, taking advantage of the engine’s braking power, they headed down the opposite side of the mountain. From this vantage point on the trail, Animal and Kathy could see police cars arriving at the highway wreckage.

A sudden flash of yellow off to his right warned Animal that the remaining two riders had found them. He leaped onto the highway from the dirt road that paralleled the highway. The sport bikes rapidly closed the gap. Flanking Animal on both sides, the rider to his left reached for his holster and started to pull out his gun. The one on his right pulled in close and tried to grab Animal’s forearm. Before Animal could react, Kathy pulled his knife from its sheath, swung the blade wide and brought it down on the grabby biker’s neck. The bike veered off crashing in a whirl of dust and gravel. The left side rider pulled out to the left and thinking they had no weapons opened his faceplate to better sight his nine millimeter. He leaned in closer to look Animal in the eyes before he killed him. Lining up the shot, he was shocked to see Animal look back at him and smile deviously. Before he could pull the trigger, Animal reached and pulled the nightstick out of his boot and shoved it into the front wheel, sending a flaming yellow comet cart wheeling end over end down Main Street.

Animal downshifted and brought Heather to a sliding stop. A lone rider was sitting on his bike in the middle of the street. A sheriff’s car was parked next to it. While revving his engine and taking a long hard look at Animal, the rider spun his mount around and headed away out of town. The sheriff turned on his blues and started heading in Animal’s direction.
Animal looked over his shoulder and quietly said to Kathy "This goes higher up and deeper than we thought, and it isn’t over yet." Spurring Heather into gear they headed out across the desert.

Little Jimmy

2008-08-10T12:41:00.016-07:00

Batman folded the leather vest and placed it carefully over the package in his dusty, well-worn saddlebag, pulling the leather straps tight and clasping the buckle. Lost in thought, he was not aware of the time spent just staring at the dirty shop floor. It was going to be a bittersweet day. The events that were to take place in a couple of hours made his chest feel heavy, for while proud to do so, he wished the need would never arise.

Grasping a faded vest down from the hanger he carefully checked it over. The memories this particular vest brought forward were tangible in his hands. Only worn for occasions such as today's, the names embroidered were all crisp and perfectly stitched and stood in stark contrast to the weathered patch on the back. Names forever etched in his psyche. Today a new name will be added to this roster. A place of dubious honor. The price of admission to this "roll of honor" always came at too steep a price. The scars and nightmares that paid the cost of membership would last a lifetime for the inductee.

Putting on the vest Batman allowed himself a moments respite to gather his courage. Glancing at his bike, giving it a once-over look, satisfied that all was in order, he swung a leg over and brought it to life. Today this chariot of chrome and steel would announce to all the world: a new member is part of this international organization. He rolled out onto the street, settled back on the seat and headed toward the designated meeting place.

A hundred riders waited for his arrival. Some were members long before the existence of the patch, some were relatives or friends of inductees and some were there as patch holders on the premise of never having to add another member.

This organization had the distinction of never wanting to exist, and all who belonged would gladly burn their patch if the club's charter would no more have relevance.

Arriving at the staging area Batman watched as the members all gathered in formation for the upcoming ride. Pride filled his stature as he heard the thunderous roar of iron horses come to life. The ground trembled. A sound that would soon announce to the inductee: you are safe now.

And to the one who caused the price of admission.......Beware!

Jimmy stood on the lawn next to his mother, clutching a torn and tattered teddy bear stained with far too many tears and quietly holding sorrowful guard. This Bear's six-year mission of being the only defense in the world for the boy would soon be joined in force a thousandfold.

In the stillness of morning a rumble grew in power and proximity. Jimmy's mother gently squeezed her son's hand and whispered in his ear, "This is all just for you," and pointed in the distance.

Jimmy's eyes grew wide as the road filled with motorcycles as far as he could see. Waving to him and parking in a circle around his yard the riders dismounted, smiling, and all gathered in front of Jimmy and his mother.

Batman stepped forward with the contents of his saddlebag. Jimmy opened the brightly wrapped package to reveal a helmet custom-painted with his name on the front and a painting of the patch that all the riders in front of him wore. Custom-fitted just for him, he eagerly placed it on his head, his hair falling over his forehead. Batman gently brushed his leathered hand across the boy's face and tucked it under.

Batman unfolded the small vest in his hands and placing it on Jimmy's shoulders, said to him, "You are one of us now. You no longer have anything to fear. We will always be here for you."

Seeing this interaction between the giant bear of a man that is Batman and little Jimmy, who barely grew taller than his kneecap brought those in attendance to near tears.

Jimmy could barely contain his glee when asked if he was ready for his first ride. Proudly sporting his Bikers Against Child Abuse (BACA) patch, Jimmy rode with Batman, leading the formation towards his brighter, new destiny.

Midnight Flight

2008-07-28T21:38:00.016-07:00

"Oh shit! Hubby's home!" yelled the sweet young nymph that Spider had met at the local watering hole.

Spider glanced out the window and saw the headlights of the white 4 door sedan pulling into the driveway. The realization that it had a box of lights on the roof didn't exactly make him want to stay around for a chat. "What the hell, you're married, to a patrol cop?" exclaimed Spider.

"No, he's the Chief," replied Dawn.

Jumping into his boots and pulling up his pants which had been left fireman-style just for these kind of unforeseen situations, Spider stumbled for the back door, knocking loose all the knick-knacks and memorabilia that had been set on the shelf in the hallway entrance. His hyperactive brain briefly made note of the fact that they were all awards for marksmanship. "Shit!" thought Spider, "What a way to make a bad situation worse."

Jumping on his chopper from the last step out the back door, he landed square on the seat, a lot harder than he intended. "Talk about getting blue balls," he winced to himself.

Jamming his leg down on the kick start the bike roared to life. In his haste, his foot slipped off and the lever came smashing up with a sudden crack to his shin. Screaming in rage and pain he twisted the throttle and popped the clutch. Popping an unintended wheelie, his tall custom-made sissy bar hit the ground and dragged the whole length of the driveway out on to the street. Rolling off the throttle brought the Avon back to the pavement.

Spider snapped the shifter into the next gear while glancing behind him to see the "Chief" hauling ass out the front door with a shotgun. A loud blast solidified his urgency. Knowing that if caught, his bike would certainly be impounded and if he made it to jail, his long-kept secret would be known. His deception would break their hearts.

Spider had once made a promise to his folks that he wouldn't ride anymore. The long history of his old escapades on bikes doing jumps and many a month spent in the hospital made the old folks jittery whenever they heard a burbling twin. For years he still rode but kept the bike out of site in a 'Bro's' garage.

Cresting the top of what the locals call Jacob's Ladder, the bike sailed airborne. When it landed, the tires howled in protest, and the next step in the ladder launched the screaming mechanized comet skyward again.

The seven hills started to take their toll on 'Liz's' hardtail frame.

At the base of the hill Spider downshifted and stood on the rear binder. The 12 inch over girder flexed and twisted as Spider slid a wide left to shoot down a narrow alley. The fat rear tire made a staccato beat as it rubbed along a wooden fence. Shooting upright as the bike straightened out, he repeated the trick each time at every intersection. Gaining distance with every turn, Spider looked for the quickest way out of town.

Spider felt rather than heard the bikes backbone bend as he leveled out on the straightaway leading towards the salvation of a bridge crossing the river in the distance. The city's skyline was in view. "Come on, baby hold together for me," he exhorted his wailing mount. Doing well over the posted double nickle, the last hurdle to his escape was in sight. The siren's scream fading away amplified 'Liz's' howling anguish. Reaching the last obstacle to his freedom, Spider twisted the bike's throttle hard enough to bend the handle bars.

Had they been standing on the bridge that night, the Wright brothers would've thought that flight had already been mastered seeing the black banshee leap from the summit.

Landing in a screeching shower of protesting drag pipes, Spider's knees, which had formed a vice grip on the bike's frame, smacked the bottom on the coffin tank ripping the fabric of his jeans from his kneecaps and blood rapidly filled his old boots.

Bringing 'Liz' back to a slower pace, the rear tire chattered on the pavement telling Spider that 'completely round' was no longer one of the features of his rim. The chattering clutch rattled to him its tale of woe. The oil pressure light glared on as he made the last turn into the open door of Roach's shop. Making her final effort, the overstressed twin seized tight and abruptly fell silent.

Roach, standing at his workbench, raised an eyebrow and uttered, "What the hell is going on?"

Spider watched as 'Liz' broke apart to the shop floor and replied with a wink, "I'm just fulfilling a promise."

A Bad Day?

2008-07-19T00:38:00.011-07:00

"Watch your head," said the officer as I was being shoved into the back of the cruiser. Contemplating how I ended up in this mess was just making my headache even worse, and watching the hamfisted kid loading my bike on his truck wasn't helping.

How did I end up here? Well, that's gonna take some explaining. There really is something called the Harley Davidson Mystique; sometimes you just don't see it coming.

It started simple enough, taking a cross country trip to relax and get away from it all. Just me and my girl, a Harley named Stephanie. Cruising the back roads of Iowa, passing the cornfields and country lanes. When I spotted a little cafe just up the road, I pulled in for a good ol' hearty breakfast. A dozen bikes were parked in front, and a club prospect was motioning for me to park next to a nice custom FLH.

Dismounting and heading in to the cafe, the bike club's sergeant-at-arms opened the door and welcomed me in. "You in town for the poker championship?" he asked. "Didn't even know you had one, just passing through." I replied.

Seeing what he thought was an easy mark, the road captain of the club responded, "There's a grand prize of $500 with only a $10 buy-in. Simple five card stud with jokers wild". Musing that I was a fairly good player with a decent shot of winning some much needed green prompted me to abandon my good sense and agree to sit for a few hands.

I managed to win a quite a few hands and was up $200 when common sense returned and I elected to get out while I was ahead. As you would expect, this didn't sit well with the other players.

You would have thought the patch-holders looked like a horde of marines storming the beach on D-Day when they started after me. The waitress who was simply curious about all the ruckus came out of the kitchen; lucky for me the closest of my pursuers tripped over her and then his followers fell on him like dominoes, which gave me time to haul ass out the door.

The club's prospect was heading in as I was going out. I bowled him over with a right hook and jumped on "Stephanie". Spinning dirt and gravel, I hit the road doing about eighty.

Winding that V-twin for all she was worth put me well over a hundred and a few miles from the cafe in no time flat. In the rapidly approaching distance, I saw what appeared to be a dust storm blowing accross the road.

What felt like a million hot BB's stung me as I rode into it. Katydids swarming over the fields had soaked the bike and myself; a nasty, green, gooey mess covered everything.

The heat of the engine baked the slop hard and tight, clogging the air-cooling fins of the cylinders and oil filter. Overheating almost instantly, "Steph" siezed up and busted A-rod, scattering hot oil and fragments all over my jeans.

The rear tire screeched in protest of the sudden lockup of the grenading motor. Road grit filled my torn Levi's, branding my ass with the hot oil and metal as we slid along the dirt for nearly a thousand feet. When the entire mangled mess finally came to a stop in a cloud of smoke and dust, the bike and I looked like refugees from a tornadoed trailer park.

Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get any worse. An old biddy on a golf cart rode by smirking, and yelled over at me, "Nice job there, Mr Motorcycle!" cackling to herself and continued on down the road. The distant siren drawing closer told me this day wasn't gonna get better anytime soon.

A random thought occurred to me that if I would've just gone to Hollister or Salinas, I'd have been sitting on a stool drinking a cold beer right about now.

The brief pause inside my head was interuppted by the officer's voice. "How did you find yourself gliding along the gravel on this fine sunny day?" Before I could reply the officer held up a hand and contiued, "Connie called me from the cafe and told me all about what went down." pulling me upright the cuffs were applied instantly. "Let's go, hotshot".

The cruiser hit the highway and started to head away from town. "I thought the county cell was in town?" I grunbled. "Who said anything about jail? You do something I don't already know about?" Figuring discretion being the better part of valor, I kept my tongue in check and sat silently, wondering what the hell else today had in store for me.

It turns out, Officer Wendy is a biker chick who owns her own hog named LadyR, and rides a lot of miles with her sister Connie the waitress. So, here I am stuck in this hot tub with the two sisters drinking a cold one and getting "special" treatment of my road rash. Also, it turns out the hamfisted baby brother owns a bike shop and "Steph" is being rebuilt for free in time for the three of us to ride up to Farmington, MN for the Bottoms Up Rally.

On top of all that, I'm still ahead $200.

Idle thoughts flew through my brain...can I really call this a bad day?!

"Becca's" Last Ride

2008-07-10T15:08:00.013-07:00

Desert winds had gently unearthed the sand encrusted handlebars of "Becca", the worn chrome glistened in the early morning sun. Long buried and lost, "Becca" awakened from her dusty dreams. A voice carried over the boulders and scrub, the cadence of the sounds brought forth the long ago memories of how she came to be enshrined in a dry riverbed.
The day of Sept 2, 1972 is forever etched in her memory. It was the day that Art (Silver Fox) Valdez had first walked into the showroom of the Harley dealership in Glendale, AZ. The die had been cast, set in sweat, blood, leather and steel.

When friends were met and many adventures taken, Silver Fox's easy laugh and her contented rhythm were always paired. When attention was needed, he was always at her side, tending to her. Washing and waxing her, she always looked sharp.

When he met a lovely young woman at a social dance, she did not react in jealousy. It was understood his affection for her wouldn't change. The woman destined to be his wife would come to revere "Becca", as well. The honeymoon ride to the Bradshaw mountains was a testament to "Becca's" power and sure-footed ability. Silver Fox's riding abilities were legend. For the two week stay, many miles forged a bond for the (now) three.

Fast-moving storm clouds gathering over the horizon soon brought the need to return to "civilization". The delay in packing for the trip out gave the rain time to arrive. "Becca" labored mightily against the muddy slick trails down the mountains. Over ruts and gullies deeper and more treacherous by the minute; Silver Fox's skills, taxed to the limit, were not enough. Only "Becca's" pride and steadfast loyalty kept her upright.

The distant rumblings of rushing water rapidly closing in, she redoubled her efforts to gain traction and torque. At a quarter mile from the interstate, the race was lost. In the final moments she pitched over a gully and tossed her riders off to higher ground. The raging waters claimed her as a prize.

Silver Fox and his new bride had stumbled to the highway from the safety of higher ground. Both knew only a supernatural effort had made this possible. In the years to come the tale of "Becca's" herculean last ride was oft repeated to friends and family. Every anniversary the grateful couple would hike out to the last known spot and toast a drink to her honor. A long standing ritual of twenty-nine years.

On the thirtieth year, a family reunion was held at the spot. they regaled their grandchildren with the story of the family legend. Christian and Jayden, their oldest grandsons, walked to a small rise overlooking the wash. A flash of chrome winked in the dusty, dry wash below.

"Look Grandpa!"

The Rider - Chapter 6: Fables

2008-03-28T09:05:00.002-07:00

David walked up the counter and sat down on a well worn stool, looking around the diner. Noting that nothing in the diner was newer than the 1950's, even the calendars on the wall still said 1952 under an advertisement extolling the virtues of the new foot shifter and hand clutch option available for the Harley-Davidson Hydra-glide Panhead of ‘52.

As he reached for the menu clipped to a condiment tray, he realized that although the parking lot was full of cars and trucks, the diner was empty besides himself and the waitress. He briefly wondered to himself that maybe the other people were behind the diner and he just hadn't seen them…or perhaps they rode off in some tour bus to sightsee.

He glanced at the menu while motioning to the waitress who had retreated to the back of the counter near the rear entrance. She didn't even glance up and seemed to him that she was purposely ignoring him. He chuckled to himself at the absurdity of it as he was the only customer in the joint. He spoke up, “Excuse me, can I put an order in?” She didn't reply. David wasn't sure if she just hadn't heard him or he was just being ignored. He repeated himself in a louder tone…No response. He stood up and walked the length of the counter to where she was standing and tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention. As he did so he noticed that she seemed trancelike, her skin was cold as ice... still she gave no response. David smacked his hand forcefully on the counter yelling, “Hey! Do you hear me?” as he watched for a reply, she faded into smoke and disappeared. While at the same time the diner was reverting into its old state of disrepair.

Momentarily stunned by what he had just witnessed, he stood blankly staring at the surroundings. The cars and trucks in front of the diner faded away. He could see his bike leaning on its side stand out in the now otherwise empty parking lot. The storm was gathering strength over the diner; the clouds swirled into a vortex and created the resemblance of an ancient fortress. The sky above and around the diner then grew more ominous and black...the air inside fell still with a sudden abruptness. From the desert a single breeze had started to drift across the gravel and seemed to him to settle on his bike. Unbidden, the ridiculous thought came to him: It appears like it's checking out my bike. Then his ears heard what sounded like the wind howling franticly: “David?”

“Okay, I got it, I'm dreaming,” said David aloud. “I just gotta wake up. It's gotta be the stress from sleeping under that overpass last night. I gotta stop working so many hours. Maybe it's paint fumes from the garage attached to the house, I'll check the cans when I wake...I'm home in bed...just gotta wake up...” At the same time he knew...this was no dream. Bizarre as it may be, it was too real; the air was too crisp, the smells too clear,
the feel of his surroundings too solid to be a dream. Then there was the feeling of severe deja vue.

But still what he was seeing and hearing couldn’t possibly be real. He started to run towards the door and got no closer to the entrance, as hard as he ran it was as if he was on a treadmill going nowhere. He screamed out in frustration...the sound didn't travel, it just fell from his lips around him. “Is this what the beginning of insanity is like?” thought David. “No,” replied his subconscious, “you know what this is,” Long forgotten memories drifted to him slowly. His mind took him back in time to when he was young....He remembered his grandfather and his dad talking about old legends; the Riders. At the time he was hearing those stories he knew instinctively that they were not mere fables. How he knew that was never really clear to him, but as he listened he always seemed aware that he knew more details than the narrative was telling, almost as if the knowledge was hardwired into his psyche. It was if he had actually been there once. But, as the years passed since, he had begun to convince himself that he had heard the stories when he was much younger and was just remembering details from then. Now it became clear to him......they weren't fables.

Knowledge flooded back into his consciousness. He knew who he really was...and his true calling. Instinct took over and he whirled around to see what had been the back entrance....was now opening to another dimension. The sudden clarity of his mind forced David into action.

Yasuda! ...He can't be allowed into this plane. The only access for him is with a connection to a still-mortal Rider. “But,” he thought, “if I am not on this plane he can't break through.”

He dove into the portal...

The Rider - Chapter 5: Yasuda

2008-02-08T09:15:00.000-07:00

"What the hell do you mean David's disappeared?" exclaimed D pounding his fist on the table in emphasis.
A-rod jumped to his feet and yelled "How do you lose somebody...I thought you see all?"
The Boss replied "Look guys, you know how this works...I just oversee this Earth....I'm not in charge of the whole universe. I don't make the rules... I just make sure that 'natural' laws are followed and prevent undue influence by outside forces. My job is to make sure that free will is paramount and to let events here take their own course."
"I'd have to say you're doing a pretty shitty job of it, if you can't even keep track of one man." replied Kingpin.
"If this is the kind of overseeing you do...that sure explains a lot of this royally screwed up planet's history!" yelled A-rod.
"Apparently you can't even do that, as you somehow lost my grandson! Good job." said D sarcastically. "Can you even tell us what happened?"

The 'Breeze', after notifying the 'Boss', flew quickly to tell her Elemental friends what had just occurred. She found them gathered together at the base of a mountain. V, Julie and Shannon were tending to the south side. Earth would toss up various colored minerals and Fire would bake them onto the rock face. Then Water would cool them down to set. This was part of their day to day duties in the southwest, and was one of the most enjoyed, ensuring the various shades of color known as the Painted Desert would always be there for future generations to enjoy. "It's about time you arrived; we could have used your help getting the minerals blown higher up on the cliffs." said Julie. "We need to get up to the boss's place, there is an emergency...David is missing." replied Ann. Without questioning or delay the three elements joined with Breeze. To Air, Fire was added, then Water, and Earth. The combination produced a small but powerful tornado, which then lifted up into the sky. The whirlwind descended onto the boss's cloud and the dissipated back into its separate elements. "Let's go" said V.

The four Elements, called Breeze/Air (Ann), Fire (Julie), Water (V) and Earth (Shannon), entered the room. Ann went straight over to D and said, "What I saw was not natural to this world. It was like a hole in space had materialized in the sky over that diner. David's not on that plane of existence anymore. He has passed out of his space and time".
D jumped up, grabbed the table and flung it across the room. It tore through the walls and out to infinity. "How is that even possible?"
The rage in the three Riders eyes was clear enough to melt diamonds. Kingpin, who had stood up at the arrival of the women, was unconsciously squeezing the back of the heavy wooden chair he had just vacated. The wood shattered into powder.
A-rod stamped his foot in fury and splintered the entire marble floor into fragments.
"It's not supposed to be possible. Something or someone is altering the fabric of light and gravity, creating a doorway through dimensions. And we need to find out whom, how and more importantly... Why?" replied the Boss.
Julie spoke up and said, "Mortals are at least a century away from this kind of technology…and even then, not on this scale. That means someone from our side of the realm has to be doing it."
V said "Why David? Is it random or by design?"
"It can't be Random. There's too much work involved for it to be accidental. David had to have been the target." said Shannon.
Julie said, "If David is the target…why and for what? Who stands to gain from David's absence?"
"If we can figure out the answer to that question ...Then we'll know where to start." said Kingpin.
"David has no enemies on this side...there's no point. His life doesn't affect our realm". said V.
"Ah...but he does. His life is tied to everyone in this room. What concerns him affects us." replied Ann.
"Ok then…who would gain by our being affected or distracted?" said Julie.
"You can't affect the laws or power of the Elements. Their mandate is absolute and unchangeable. And any coercion would only affect the earthbound plane. And, since each one of the Elementals only controls the geographical area they are assigned...to affect a change you would have to gather the power of all the thousands of Elementals worldwide. And also, since you four are the only ones seemingly connected, that rules you out for being the target." said The Boss. "Which leaves you three," he said, referring to the Riders. And who would stand to gain by your absence? It can only be... Yasuda!"

Yasuda's name was well known by all in the room; he had been a legendary warrior at the beginning of history and upon his death in battle had become one of the first immortal Riders.
Choosing, instead of honor, to turn against his kind; he was banished from the realm, vowing one day to return and reign over all, and making all Riders his sworn enemies.

"He knows that as long we exist, our presence would prevent him from altering events to his own agenda, he could not succeed. But, if he stops David, it will break the succession of Riders who come after us. He also knows that we would pursue and stop him." said A-rod forcefully.
Kingpin responded by clenching his fists and exclaiming, "He's laying a trap for us!"

The Rider - Chapter 4: Storm Clouds

2008-02-05T10:11:00.000-07:00

As the rays from the rising sun pierced the dusty windowpanes of David's bedroom, the illuminating streaks made the shadows of the slats of the wood and caulk grow ever thinner and longer. The beams danced over the colorful, yet well-worn apache rug that surrounded David's bed. The light fell into his old boots lying haphazardly next to the old cedar chest that rested against the foot board. A few seconds passed, and to any observer it would have appeared that the light had jumped out of the boot directly onto the denim vest that hung on the bedpost. Then it slowly and surely crawled up along the down comforter and the still form atop the mattress, finally reaching its limits on the soundly sleeping man's face. The thin membranes of his eyelids could not prevent the assault, and abruptly he was stirred awake.

It had not been more than two hours since he had arrived home after finding himself sleeping under an old highway bridge. How he had found himself there and the strange dream he had experienced was still fresh in his mind. As he rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed he thought, "It must be due to overwork." After all, the extra hours he had been putting in at work to save for the upcoming trip to the Sturgis motorcycle rally had surely had begun to take their toll. But, despite having only spent two hours asleep, he found he was surprisingly refreshed.
He rose up and walked over to his bureau and shook the stuck drawer loose to slide it open over the protesting sounds of wood on wood. He reached in a pulled out a pair of raggedy old black jeans, a pair of holey socks and a pristine black t-shirt that showed a flaming skull silk-screened on the front and back with the letters AZ Bike Week Glendale…2045. He got dressed quickly; pulling on his old snakeskin boots, and headed out the backdoor to the still-warm sporty.

He sat astride the bike and lit up a smoke, enjoying the morning air. When he glanced at watch on his left arm and saw that it was still too early to head into work just yet, a plan came to mind of a long ride around some of the back roads not usually taken on his normal routes and hopefully finding a breakfast diner. It seemed like just the thing. Finishing his smoke, he stubbed it out with the heel of his boot, switched on the key and pushed the starter button firing "Annabelle" to life. With the toe of his boot he snapped the shifter into gear, released the clutch, twisted the throttle, spinning tires and gravel blasted out on to the pavement.

There is simply no better way of life than tooling down old country roads on a Harley in the warm, clear morning air of the Sonoran desert. As he took the long route through the old canyons and desert plains, David realized that this stretch of road was one he had ridden several years ago and he tried to recall if there were any diners along the way. The only one that came to mind was an old abandoned one from the 1950's that was about a mile ahead. "I guess I'll just have to wait til I get back into town," he thought. As he crested the small hill on the road, the old diner came into view. There were old cars and period trucks parked in front of it, and the old sign looked restored. "Must be a car show," he surmised as he pulled up to the front entrance.

The diner was open for business. The bike was leaned over onto its stand; he reached down turned the fuel off and switched the key back and out, and dismounted in one fluid motion. Briefly glancing skyward on his way into the diner, he noticed the sky had swiftly and suddenly gathered dark clouds. "Lucky I found this open. Looks like it's gonna rain like hell with those black thunder busters forming." The waitress didn't reply she just smiled and closed the door behind him.

The "Breeze" carried herself aloft the desert sky and surveyed her surroundings. In the distance she saw dark clouds forming and thought, "There were no storms scheduled for today in this area, "and drifted over to investigate. When she arrived, the remains of a long forgotten and crumbling building came into view just below the ominous clouds. The well-worn and barely legible sign out front read: Bob's Diner. Parked near what was the front entrance was a shiny old bike, which upon investigating she knew to be her namesake from her mortal life. It now belonged to her grandson. She knew that he would never leave his precious steed out in the desert, abandoned. The wind howled... David???

The Rider Chapter 3: Betcha Can't

2008-01-02T12:31:00.000-07:00

The three Riders headed across the highway to the rendezvous with the "Boss". A slight fog drifted along the road and began to envelop the path ahead. D twisted the throttle and smiled, surging ahead. Kingpin saw this and responded, "Betcha can't," and throttled up to pass. A-rod, watching all this from behind, just laughed and watched the two race toward the mist.

The two racing riders reached the summit of the road and left the pavement flying wheel to wheel and proceeded to race across the sky. A-rod watched as he also headed upwards to the heavens. Kingpin shifted down a gear and twisted the grip, pulling ahead and twisting his mount through the canyons. D slid sideways accross the sky and took the high path over the mountians. The two Riders exited the desert sky neck to neck leaving contrails in the air. Both Riders ran side by side into the white horizion. The clouds melted away to reveal a bridge leading up to a floating mesa. And on the plateau was a simple, yet large cabin. Kingpin and D screeched to a sliding stop in front of the doorway at exactly the same instant. A-rod arrived just moments later, parked alongside the two bikes and dismounted. A-Rod said, "That was impressive as always, but as usual it was a tie." Kingpin responded "I was taking it a little slow so as not to embarrass D and his sporty." "Yeah, right," D responded, "that rolling couch you ride belongs in a living room parked in front of a television!"

A-rod just laughed and said "You know, neither one of you can outrun my pan." D replied, "Your pan? I thought this was a race not a Sunday putt. I could outrun that thing in neutral!" Kingpin smiled and said "Betcha can't!"

Laughing, the three Riders entered the cabin. The "Boss" was sitting at the head of a large wooden dining table drinking from a large mug shaped like a panhead cylinder jug. He looked over at the three Riders who joined him at the table. He didn't speak for a few minutes. Then he looked over at D and said, "A snowstorm in June? I don't even want to hear the explanation for that one." Kingpin and A-rod laughed at that comment. The Boss looked over at those two and said, "What are you laughing at? You two are just as bad, with you, Kingpin, becoming visible to mortals and racing across the highway tormenting the radar officers who used to give you tickets back when you were a mortal. Then disappearing into the ether when they pull you over. And you, A-rod, you know you're not supposed to interfere with the lives of your mortal family; sneaking in and changing events to their advantage. Its noble and all, but we have guardians to do that." He continued, "And then the fact that all three of you keep pulling jokes on the four elementals Fire ,Wind ,Water and Earth just because they were your wives and friends in life! They have duties to perform and you clowns are just screwing around. You get them all riled up and then I get an earful about it. I'm not gonna stop them when they decide to fix your little hijinks! But I'll deal with those transgressions later. Right now, we have more serious concerns."

"David has disappeared."

The Biker

2007-12-13T22:47:00.000-07:00

Please read and then watch the video...Merry Christmas!

When you see us moving past you quickly: Don't take offense or think we're trying to "show off". Ninety five percent of the time, we're trying to get out of your blind spot or taking ourselves out of a potential dangerous situation that has evolved around us. Distancing ourselves from you does not mean we want to race, but that we're giving ourselves the edge we need at the moment.

When you hear our horn: Don't take offense or think we're trying to aggravate you. All we're doing is letting you know where we are in relation to you on the road, and we're more than likely aware of your inattentiveness to us while you're talking on a cell phone, eating, reading or involved in some other distracting aspect to your driving. It's important to us, and you, that you know we're there.

When you hear our loud pipes: Don't become angry and hostile toward us. Yes, some are quite loud, but for some, there's a purpose behind being loud. It's about letting you know we're close by and we're constantly hoping that our investment in this accessory will help save our lives. Our pipes are really not about our ego...it's a pride and personalization to our form of transportation.

When you see us in our clothes: Don't become fearful of us or think us weird. Our leather jackets, chaps, gloves and boots are the barriers between losing massive amounts of flesh should something cause us to go down...nothing more, nothing less. Safety gear is paramount to our riding. We wear patches on our jackets, and pins on our vests. These are symbols of pride and honor within our group(s), individuals giving back to those who gave. These things bond us as a brotherhood and sisterhood among bikers. Not that we're better than anyone else, but that we have the same kind of nobility and pride in our accomplishments as you may have in the various aspects of your life. I guess one could say; our patches and pins are the decals and the bumper stickers of our involvement with society and the general public, of which we are very pleased to be a part of in our own little way.

When you see us in a restaurant: You don't have to shield your child or feel intimidated. We have family, wives, husbands, children and loved ones too, just like you. We smile; we laugh and enjoy the moments we have. We are approachable, and would befriend you, if given the opportunity.

When you see us in a parking lot:Don't convince yourself that we're there to "get you". More than likely, we just finished a long ride and are taking a break. Or, we may be meeting up with other riders for a charity run for young children, or another very worthy cause. We may just be admiring one another's bikes, sharing our pride with other brothers and sisters, just like you do with your personal vehicle. It's what we do...it's a part of our lives, and we'd be more than welcome to share with you what riding a bike is all about...if you'd only ask.

When you see aggressive riding bikers: Don't put us all in the same stereotypical category as those whose behavior and actions would cause you to react in disgust and intolerance. Many of us do not agree with this style of riding either, and we know and understand that human nature tends to blend us all together as the "same group". Most of us don't want that title...and don't deserve it.

When you see a group of bikers on the roadways: Give us the courtesy of sharing the road with you. Please don't "move in" between several bikers in formation. This gets us very excited and nervous, especially when it's done with no due regard for our safety. Provide us with your awareness of the fact that we are much more vulnerable than you. We don't want to challenge you, for all of us are wise enough to know...we'd lose that battle.

When you are turning left or entering a roadway/highway: Look, then look again...and then one more time. For we can be easily hidden, and appear to be invisible by such things as a telephone pole, another vehicle, bright lights or the glare of the sun...or possibly, the beads hanging from your rearview mirror, among numerous other items that are displayed there. If you see us flashing our lights at you or blowing our horn, we're only trying to ensure that you will see us before tragedy changes both our lives.

When you are behind us: Please give us the room we need and don't tailgate us. If you hit us, we're going down...HARD! We don't want to play games with you, we just want to enjoy the ride and the fresh air, and experience that which many of you have never lived for. If we accelerate away from you, don't interpret this action as though we want to drag race you. We're only trying to take ourselves out of a bad situation if you insist on being too close.

When, and if, you experience road rage: Don't take it out on us just because we're smaller than you and more vulnerable. Think about what you're doing and the end result that may become a reality. The consequences of your actions and choices could be very detrimental to our well being, our families, our children and our loved ones.

Yes, there are those that can tend to piss you off, however, rage towards them will not solve the issues, but accentuate them. Nine out of ten bikers will do everything they can to take themselves out of that situation without causing you or them harm.

When you have an opportunity to talk to us: You'll discover, outside any influenced or stereotypical mindset you may have, that we are just as human as you are, just with different interests and toys. Many of us would give you the shirt off our back if it would tend to brighten your day or console you in some way.

We're really no different... and we drive cars, trucks and vans too. So, meet us and greet us...I think you'll be pleasantly surprised that you'll be met with open arms.Thank You for attempting to understand!

Note: I did not author this, I just borrowed from another source: BACA - Bikers Against Child Abuse. If you're interested in learning more, please click here.

And in the spirit of Christmas, please make a donation; this is a great and noble cause. Thank you - Big D.

The Rider chapter 2 Snowstorm

2007-11-30T21:05:00.000-07:00

"Damn it's cold. At least the bike's running great, as always." All the years David has owned his grandfather's bike, it had never missed a beat, David thought to himself as he rode along toward home. It almost seems like it's gonna snow. He chuckled under his breath and replied to himself, "as if it ever really snows here in the valley and certianly never in June." The wind seemed to have picked up quite a bit and David was having a hard time keeping the bike rolling in a straight line. Small snowflakes started to fall across his face. The weather had changed dramatically in the space of just a few miles. It was getting harder to see. He slowed almost to a crawl when the snow started really coming down. This almost looks like what my grandfather used to call a Nor'easter, he thought. The bike started to falter in it's smooth running cadence and then stalled. "You've got to be kidding me!" yelled David at the now silent bike. "All these years and now you pick to break down?" He quickly scanned his surroundings. He needed to find shelter and it had to be now. Off in the distance he could see a gully that ran under the highway bridge that was just up ahead.

As he pushed the bike toward the underpass, the lone figure of a young man sitting there, tending a small fire seemed to have appeared almost out of thin air. David swung the kickstand down and leaned the bike over on its mount. The man sitting at the fire motioned towards a small crate on the opposite side of the flames from where he sat. David nodded and thanked the man for this unexpected hospitality. "Hell of a sudden storm and damn unusual for these parts," said David. The man nodded in assent but didn't speak for some time. He just looked over at David and seemed to smile just a bit. After a good long while the man spoke. "Is that an old evo sporty?" he asked. "You don't see those much nowadays." David replied. "No, I guess you don't, it was a gift from my grandfather; he left it to me after he passed. Smoothest running bike I ever rode, until tonight." he joked.
"Maybe the bike is like it's former owner; it just doesn't like snow." replied the man.
David laughed and said, "How did you know he hated the snow?"
"Just a guess." said the man as he gently prodded the fire.
"How is it you come to be under here?" asked David.
"Just waiting on a old friend," the man said. "He's gone to check up on his loved one and should be back before dawn."
"Well, I hope he doesn't try riding back in this weather," said David.
"I wouldn't worry about him, I've ridden with him many a mile and the weather doesn't seem to affect him much anymore. He'll be fine."

As the man stoked the fire with more wood, David could see that just behind him was parked a sporty identical to his bike. And the man seemed to look almost familiar to him. David couldn't explain it but he seemed to feel a connection with this stranger he had just met. As the night wore on they chatted on about bikes and what riding meant and the brotherhood that accompanied it. As it neared dawn the rumble of a sweet running V-Twin could be heard coming closer. The bike and it's rider drove up under the overpass and David saw the sharpest looking old panhead he'd ever seen.

The Rider dismounted and walked over to the campfire. He was a young man around David's age. He looked at David almost with a sense of recognition. He pulled a flask from his vest pocket and offered David a drink. David took a swig and almost immediately felt sleepy. He laid on his side and drifted off to sleep.

The Rider spoke to the man at the campfire and said, "Dammit D, when we were on the other side of this veil you never could follow rules worth a damn, but I always figured on this side you would at least try. A Nor'easter here in the valley in June?"
The man at the campfire laughed and replied, "Yeah, well I wanted to see the little shit one more time, and I figured that was a funny way to get him here. I figured no harm done, and he wouldn't recognize us as young men as he never knew us then."
"Well, you took a hell of a chance and the Boss is gonna be pissed that you did." chuckled A-Rod.
"That's all right," replied D, laughingly, "Mama, Julie, Shannon and Veronnica will set him straight, even in his omnipotence he won't take on those four."

As they mounted their bikes and rode out to the highway Kingpin was waiting on his iron steed and with a smile said, "I gotta escort you two clowns to see the boss." Laughing, all three rode off down the highway.

David awoke to find himself sitting next to his Sporty in the warm desert air and wondered how the hell he got there. He was half-expecting to see snow on the ground, while realizing that it had to have been a ridiculous dream. As he got up and turned the key on, the bike fired instantly. He rode out, and for some reason he kept thinking about his grandfather all they way home.

Armegeddon

2007-11-25T14:40:00.000-07:00

Hell has just frozen over, the end signs are here, Big Daddy put a windshield on his bike. These are the kind of remarks I've been hearing for that last two days. I don't understand how people can be so flippant about the world ending....How can it be ending? Well...........

I'm overly sensitive and cry easily. So as I ride along thinking about everybody picking on my windshield, I start to cry. The tears in my eyes make it difficult to see. I veer into the oncoming lanes while wiping my tears. The car in the oncoming lane swerves to miss me, thereby hitting a telephone pole. It falls across the lanes of traffic and starts a multi-vehicle pileup. A rig fully loaded with hazardous chemicals plows right into this melee of confusion and spills it's load. This causes the fire department and local police to respond. Upon arriving they call out the hazmat team to contain the spill. Being so close to Luke Air Force Base, homeland security is notified. Naturally, the base goes on high alert. Fighter planes start sweeping the sky. Over in Russia, the satellites spot this flurry of activity. They go on high alert and start circling their planes. This gets noticed by their allies in China and they respond in kind. Of course all this activity spooks the hell outta Japan and Israel. So up go those planes. Iran figures that since all the big players seem to be going defcon 1 they'd better get their shit together before bombs start falling on them. Meanwhile...... Diplomatic relations start trying to contact President Bush about what the hell is going on. Not having any brains to call his own, he decides he'd better call daddy and ask what to do. This causes Papa Bush to mutter to himself, "Oh, shit. What's my dip shit son gonna say stupid in public today?" He remembers that when Junior first started talking, that it freaked out mama Bush so bad her eyes popped and it became a permanent condition. All the while wondering how in the hell of all the swimmers he had, that was the fastest one that created him. He spends the next few hours trying to think of simple words that Junior can understand and pronounce.

The rest of the world now on on extremely high alert and not hearing anything from President Idiot decides his silence is evidence of a preemptve strike and in defense start launhing misslies at each other. This escalates into full blown nuclear war. Armegeddon has arrived. Mankind's day is over..............all because insensitive people picked on my windshield. Big Daddy

Decade

2007-10-31T14:10:00.000-07:00

A Decade.......Ten years. That's 3650 wonderful days......and even better nights! that I have had the pleasure of calling myself ANN'S husband. From starting out with absolutely nothing but old debt, we have built a life. From Massachusetts to Arizona; no questions asked. We knew together we could do it. Never wavered in our support or belief in each other. Struggled through extremely hard situations financial, medical and personal. Suffered through the loss of dear friends and family. The good days far outnumber the bad...though sometimes it might not seem so. But in the final tally, it's been awesome living and loving with Ann by my side.

On her blog page is a musical number....I'm not blog savvy enough to pull that off. But the next time you hear Jerry Rafferty's song "Right down the Line" Just know that was written for her ....Every Damn word of it!!!

{perhaps she'll read this and post the song for me...so all who read this will know the song} Note: to the right, the 2nd video from the top is "Right Down the Line".

I always use a Dave Mann photo for a caption to the post....Today IT'S ALL ABOUT MAMA!!! 143 !!! I LOVE YOU !!! BIG DADDY

The Rider

2007-10-02T14:19:00.000-07:00

Dawn broke swiftly and silently over the top of the mesa. As the the fluorescent multi-hued rays illuminated the plateau. A lone figure astride his iron mount coalesced into view. A gentle warm breeze floated up the side of the mountain and enveloped the rider. As the breeze wrapped itself around the rider's shoulders, it whispered in his ear, "bring him home". The rider nodded and placed the bike in gear and proceeded down the path. The rider was aware of the honor that had been bestowed upon him by his boss. Not many received this honor. Only those who, in actions and deeds, had stayed true to the concept of brotherhood.

It had been some while since the rider had been on this stretch of road and yet, his familiarity had not abated even a tiny bit. He cracked open the throttle and felt the bike surge ahead. He smiled as the wind cascaded over his body and through his hair. He inhaled the sweet aroma of the desert flowers, which were in full bloom. The bike's sound came alive in his ears. He heard the drumming of the tires on the pavement, and the whine of the primary chain, the resonance of the V-twin as it echoed through the canyon walls. To him it sounded just like summer thunder.

The ride only lasted a short while when the turn he needed to make came up ahead. He crossed onto the gravel driveway; the bike was silent as he coasted up to the front door of the house. The rider dismounted and strode up to the door and silently entered. He passed down the long hallway to the back of the residence and opened a door at the end. He walked up to the left side of the bed and placed his hand on the man's shoulder that was lying there. Gently he patted the man's shoulder as he whispered, "It's time to go". The man stirred awake and clarity came into his eyes. He glanced over at the woman laying beside him and for a brief moment, there was sadness in his face. A young man in his prime sat up and raised himself off of the bed, glancing back at the old weathered body he had just left. The rider observed all this and thought back to when it had been his time. The rider he had known as "Kingpin" had come for him years earlier. And he remembered when "Julie" had come for his Beloved. Only the truly chosen Friend that became brother or sister were afforded the right to escort the newly arrived to his family waiting on this side of the veil. The rider glanced at the still sleeping form of the lady sleeping in the bed and understood the trials ahead for her, whether it be days, weeks or years. To her, time will seem to slow to infinity until it is her time to go. And to those family and friends she knows, her time will seem way too short. When two souls truly find each other, the wait to be reunited feels like an eternity.

The rider walked over to her side and whispered in her ear "Patience, it will only be a short while." The sleeping form did not stir, but seemed to relax with a deep sigh. The young man understood that time in this realm had no meaning, but still, it will seem to be forever until they are together again. The rider spoke to the young man before him and called him by name. "A-Rod my brother, it has been far too long". To which A-rod replied, "Yes, it has, D." With one glance back at the room, they walked down the hallway and out of the house.

In the driveway sat the rider's bike and just beyond it there appeared a new bike. A-Rod understood this to be the boss' bike that was placed at his disposal for the ride out. The choice was his; there were two paths ahead: one leads straight to home the other kept you on this plane until your spouse's time. The rider's mission was to escort him on whichever path was chosen. A-Rod walked over to the bike and threw a leg over and with a twinkle in his eye said, "I guess the old adage is true... He really does ride a Panhead." He fired it up, and with that they both lit out on down the path.

Lucky Man

2007-10-01T13:30:00.000-07:00

I never have thanked those service members I am Related to in a public forum. I need to fix that.

First my father Lief H. Nelson WW2 belly turret gunner in a B17 shot down a Focke-Wulf and survived 27 missions over Europe.

Went to Korea as a foot solider and served with honor. rescued two wounded off of a hill and took out two enemy while doing so with his sidearm.......Has been written up in the Stars and Stripes twice. Retired after full service. DFC w/4 oak clusters Airmedal Combat ribbons down his arm and more. And as a footnote, he was the first to cross the 49th parallel in the Korean war on a motorized vehicle........A WLA '45 Harley! Way to go DAD! Proud to be your son.

My Brothers Walt, Gary and Mark......Vietnam. Various Distinctions.

My Brother Gene. National guard and currently serving for the Pentagon.

My Proudest moments are listed below.

My son Rex - U.S Navy served on CVN-73 GEORGE WASHINGTON, now stationed in Okinawa, Japan.

My son Eric - U.S Air Force Aircraft support specialist. Now stationed in Korea.

My daughter Samantha - U.S Navy. Norfolk, Virgina.

My only regret in life is I was unable to serve due to my hearing loss.

To those listed above and many more past, present and future: a big "Thank you"!

BIG DADDY

Custom bike

2007-08-28T17:40:00.000-07:00

I've been asked to put up some photos of my Bikes. I need to get a camera. But here's the ol honda I sold recently. That I "customized" the finish product is the black Bike...Made to sorta look like a old Indian the pic's of the red bike are what I started with and the top one is the Triumph chopper

Ritual of Honor

2007-08-20T16:24:00.003-07:00

David awoke with a throbbing hangover. He staggered out of his room into the kitchen, ran his fingers through his hair, belched, leaned over the coffee pot and lit a cigarette. "That was a helluva party last night," he mused to himself. "I can't get over how many people showed up. I gotta straighten up, I got a lot to do today, and it has to be done right. Having been taught the honor and integrity of brotherhood from them, he knew Gramps and Grammy shouldn't deserve anything less." He shoved a coffee down his throat, reached over and put on the leather riding vest that was hanging neatly on a peg in the hallway and headed out to the garage.

As he entered, he saw the old 1988 1200 Sportster sitting over in the corner. It was in well worn, yet in pristine shape for a 50 year old bike. He ran his hand over the candy-brandywine paint where the color had grown thin from years of polishing. Amazing, he thought to himself, it still shines like new. He glanced the seat, well worn from years of riding, faded in spots, yet still supple and not a tear in it. He then passed his hand lovingly over the script painted on the oil tank that read 'Annabelle' his Grandmothers name. The bike's moniker bestowed years before he was even born. "Can you believe how many people showed up to honor you and Gramps?" he said to the name on the bike. He then checked the straps holding an old Ironhead jug that was sitting on the back seat. Threw a leg over and turned on the ignition, it barely cranked a half second before igniting with a sharp crackle and then setted down to a nice loping idle. He tapped the gear lever down into first and felt the solid "snick" as it went into gear. smiled to himself thinking, "Jesus, what a bike."

He eased the clutch and rolled down the driveway out to the street. He looked down the road to see 30 or 40 bikes and riders lined up along both sides of the road. He rode slowly to the head of the street as all the bikes fell in place behind him and headed out to the highway for the 30 mile trip to Barger mountain. Barger mountain had been purchased and so named by the confederation of bikers who acquired it after the millions of dollars that came in from all over the world in honor of the lifestyle Mr Barger helped create. So many donations came in that a 10,000 acre parcel of land was bought and had a platinum statue of a Harley. It had been built by some of the finest artisans in the world. The sheer size of it was only matched by the Crazy Horse statue in the Dakotas.

There was a set of steps leading up the side of the mountain. At the top, surrounding the statue was a circular platform surrounded by flags of every MC in clear view .With a promontory looking over the valley below, known as Brotherhood Point. At the very top of the stairs was marble sarcophagus containing the remains of Mr Barger. flanked by four brothers wearing colors of various clubs. Behind the sarcophagus was a round marble platform with a small opening that was covered by a sliding solid platinum cover. Down at the base of the stairs off to the right was a marble path that wound up the side of the mountain to the top.

As David came to within a thousand feet of the base he stopped to let the other bikes pass by. They rolled up to the entrance and parked in fluidly smooth motion against the curb lining the road; front wheels out and tires leaning towards the mound. David slid the Sporty into gear and proceeded towards the entrance. He smoothly turned the bike onto the marble pathway and started towards the top. As he rode on it seemed to him 'Annabelle' was hesitating up the hill. To him it seemed the bike didn't want to go.

As he reached the top of the summit, he stopped, got off the bike and undid the straps,removed the Ironhead jug. He walked over to the four bikers who parted and let him pass to the sarcophagus. He set the jug down on the platform and addressed the Tomb in front of him, "I am here to pass the remains of my grandparents to the shelter of this hallowed ground. I respectfully ask that you receive them into your honored protection." After speaking briefly about who and what his grandparents stood for and believed in, he walked to the back of the platform and slid the platinum cover aside and removed his grandfathers leather and placed it in the opening so that it would fall onto the thousands of brothers' vests that came before.

He stepped back and two of the guards came forward and escorted David and the jug over to Brotherhood Point. The remaining two Brothers rolled the bike over to the Point. David reached over and opened up the jug and poured its contents over the side of the Point to the valley below. As the ashes poured forth from the jug, a gentle breeze seemed to catch the ashes in it's path and it seemed as if the tendrils of dust reached down and caressed the bike then passed over to David and lightly brushed on his shoulder. As it did so, he could have sworn he felt a gentle squeeze from a pair of hands in unison and he heard what sounded like the sweetest V -Twin that ever ran, fire up and fade out as the filaments of dust drifted out over the valley below. "I must be hearing things", he thought as he walked over to the Sporty. As he did so he paid tribute to the brothers who stood by him for the ceremony with a hand clasp and brothers' hug.

When he turned to get on the Sporty, he heard one of the brothers say, "That was a sweet sounding bike your grandparents rode to Valhalla."

Why I Ride

2007-08-11T14:29:00.000-07:00

In this day and age of prozac and therapy bills, I ride my bike.

It is the purest form of therapy there is. Many people have remarked to me that I don't seem to get pissed off a lot. Most things that aggravate people just slide off my back, and I just shine it on. Money woes are always there I had 'em when I made too much money [never enough] and I have them when I don't. It's a constant in everybodys life, so why sweat it?

I've got great friends who can help me if I ask. And I'll help them in return anyway I can. It works out. It always does. I have a good friend which we call KRAMER. He's going through some tough financial shit. He'll get past it. He's got friends. And a reasonably good head on his shoulders. And I noticed that when he rides or even just talks bikes, problems are forgotten for the moment.

I look at it this way when I wake up tommorow, I'll figure out a solution...and If I don't wake up again....Well it ain't that big a problem anymore. What do I think about when riding? I look at the countryside, feel the wind rush past me, how proud I am of my kids, how I've got great friends and of course I think of Annebelle. And When she's on the Bike with me....pure Heaven. I don't need to drink, do drugs, etc... there is no high that can compare. And when I ride solo........I think Anabelle.

Headache

2007-08-10T15:26:00.000-07:00

Boy I got a splitting headache today. Here's how it happened, I was driving along and out of nowhere I get hit with an IDEA. Now the Idea it self is not important. The fact that in order to have a Idea you have to be thinking. I did not intend to think........and didn't really want to.

BUT. I wasn't paying attention and my brain fired up on it's own. {DAMMIT] Now onto the subject of my Idea, They say there are no new Ideas under the sun. Everything that can be thought has been. {Who they?....I don't know and I ain't thinking about it either] So with that in mind...If there are no new Ideas...This must be someone else's loose thought. So I would appreciate You people keeping a tighter rein on your thinking so I don't have to catch your random thought you threw out wiiynilly. { Who you?...I don't frigging know and if I did I wouldn't tell you.

.....There now you gotta do some thinking:] } Enjoy my headache. I gotta go take a nap.

Hey, Wait A Minute!!!

2007-08-09T21:56:00.000-07:00

Eric CANNOT be 22! I'm gonna tell you why: It's simple math.

1st of all, I'm not 43, as rumor has it. And if you factor in my mental age, which is about 13. (The picture above is proof of this - I think that's art!) Even if you take the rumored age of 43 and subtract 13, that makes me 30, nowhere near old enough to have a 22 year old kid!

Now if I had a 22 year old, he would be extremely intelligent, good looking, not willing to take anybody's shit, has a mind of his own, is loyal to his friends and family, loves his wife, and he would know that Daddy needs another Harley!

So while this sounds like Eric...oh, hell, I guess I have to admit you don't get that many gray hairs in your beard at 30. So the little shit must be mine!!!

I couldn't be more proud!

Thinking

2007-08-08T20:45:00.000-07:00

Welcome To My Blog

2007-08-08T19:21:00.000-07:00

Soon to be off and runnin'!!!