Joe did a solo mission back to the rockies last week to wrap up a few loose ends before meeting back up with us in Wyoming for the "coming down the mountain" party in a Lake Tahoe cabin.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Solo Mission
Joe did a solo mission back to the rockies last week to wrap up a few loose ends before meeting back up with us in Wyoming for the "coming down the mountain" party in a Lake Tahoe cabin.
American Motor Drome
The first "Bike Rally" I ever attended was Myrtle Beach which was made possible be Colleen and JP. I was going through the lowest point in my life and Colleen and JP were there to help me out in so many different ways. Colleen immediately introduced me to everyone at the Wall of Death. I was so overwhelmed by the ora that iminated from each and every one of them. This was my first bike rally and it was also the first group of people I was introduced to. I couldn't believe how real and hardcore people at these rally's were. I quickly found out that in the rally scene these type of people are few and fare between...... actually you wont find a whole lot of people this heavy into motorcycling and the lifestyle period. They risk it all everyday..... not just on the wall but in everyday life. As you could imagine this lifestyle doesn't not come with the kind of riches that fill your pockets but if you ever get the chance to talk to them you will find that they are the richest in spirit. The things they have seen and the energy they have felt in their lives would stop an average human beings heart. I am still intimidated by each and every one them..... maybe it's the ultimate respect I have for them..... and if you are thinking why? It runs much deeper than riding a motorcycle on a 90 degree wall.
Wahl E. Walker and Jay Lightnin
Rest In Peace Sam...... We love you
Charlie Ransom
Charlie santching bills
Jay tank shifting at 90 degrees
Sparky Lightnin
Wahl E walking the wall
Much Respect
Baas Family Farm
On saturday evening a few of us ended up at a carnival on the southwest side for some corn on the cob and fried cheese curds. Talks of igniting a canon at the Baas Farm lead us further west. I can't speak enough kind words about the Baas family. We were given the tour of the Baas Lands which consists of 80 acres of hills, creeks and star filled skies. Although the tour did not include the Knucklehead stash pile I would still recommend it to anyone. The canon was packed and fired.... the High Life's flowed like water and Momma's scratch built chilly filled our bellies for the night.
Teach... his Knuck and his sister Krystle
Papa Baas and Sister Baas
Teach's cousin Rod
Warren and Stacie
Momma Baas on her Ironhead trike
Farm tour
80 acres of high school memories
Plow truck hinged
The Family Pet..... Bones
Kevin in his younger days.... Said he was going to out drink the old timers.
Sweet Honda chop
Toking cigars
Check out Teach's Blog
See More Pictures like this of his parents back in the day.
Milwaukee
My parts finally arrived friday so I quickly threw the bike together so I could shoot up to Milwaukee to say hi to my good friends at the American Motor Drome. I was able to find a 48 tooth front pulley which combined with a 26 tooth tranny sprocket made short time of the long miles. The springs I got for my clutch are mighty stiff so the front wheel tends to leave the ground at every stop light..... I still have to work the bugs out of that.
I made it to the Warren/Cook shop to meet up with a few others before heading over to the Harley Museum to check out the Wall Of Death. It was a blessed evening of great people and lots of sunshine. The pack split ways but a few of us ended up at a carnival on the southwest then even further west to the Baas Family Farm.
From there myself, Warren and Stacie hit up Water St.... then rambled back to Warren's to lay our heads down for a good night of rest. Just as my head hit the pillow the neighbors down stairs returned from the bar with a few friends to finish off their night. Loud shitty music and even louder and shittier singing continued until about 4:30 am At 4:31 am the singing switched to crying and threats of suicide. I'm all about a good party but damn.... respect thy neighbor and never be the downer. This chick would not shut up. She couldn't go home because her dad just got a new girlfriend and she didn't wont to fuck that up for him but couldn't stay because her best friend (neighbor) was fucking the love of her life. I'm not big on the idea of suicide but by the time the birds started chirping with the sun breaking the horizon line I was wishing some would just give her a damn gun.
Never fails.... Milwaukee and St. Louis...... always an experience.
after no sleep we headed back to the Wall then out to Burlington Wi. to attend the Hoodlums Party.
I made it to the Warren/Cook shop to meet up with a few others before heading over to the Harley Museum to check out the Wall Of Death. It was a blessed evening of great people and lots of sunshine. The pack split ways but a few of us ended up at a carnival on the southwest then even further west to the Baas Family Farm.
From there myself, Warren and Stacie hit up Water St.... then rambled back to Warren's to lay our heads down for a good night of rest. Just as my head hit the pillow the neighbors down stairs returned from the bar with a few friends to finish off their night. Loud shitty music and even louder and shittier singing continued until about 4:30 am At 4:31 am the singing switched to crying and threats of suicide. I'm all about a good party but damn.... respect thy neighbor and never be the downer. This chick would not shut up. She couldn't go home because her dad just got a new girlfriend and she didn't wont to fuck that up for him but couldn't stay because her best friend (neighbor) was fucking the love of her life. I'm not big on the idea of suicide but by the time the birds started chirping with the sun breaking the horizon line I was wishing some would just give her a damn gun.
Never fails.... Milwaukee and St. Louis...... always an experience.
after no sleep we headed back to the Wall then out to Burlington Wi. to attend the Hoodlums Party.
Rod's Panhead and Tony's Shovel
Warren's Pan build
Cody clutching his dad's Shovel
Cook's Cadillac
Cook wrapping up this Norton
Doug on his Shovel
Ryan sitting Pretty on his Swingid arm Shovel
Teach and his sister Dana
MPD
Warren and Stacie
Warren and I grabbed some sandwiches and relaxed on the beach. I made the comment that we would never think to bring our broads to the beach but it's not uncommon to bro down at the beach.
Thought about jumping it.......
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Freedom is Not Free
For so many different reasons and forms of confinement - You WILL have to pay for it if you want it.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
The days of our lives
This morning I woke up to a pretty girl, a panhead and 3 cigarettes left in the pack while the traces of the evening prior were nothing more than a bit of cotton mouth and a disoriented smile. I had spent the night prior with some of my oldest and dearest friends right along side the chopper side of things and I was once again reminded why all of these people are so close to my heart as I watched them laugh and drink side by side with clinking glasses and grins that infected those around us.
I spent the latter half of the night chasing a good one downtown to a club where my acme boots blended into the sea of dunk lows and canvas vans. The females had wanted to see a hotshot dj who was playing and who turned out to be an old friend of mine. As the club wound down I heard "Harlow this ones for you" followed by ZZ Top on the niteclub sound system and as the urban minds looked aimlessly at each other with dizzy stares, I tipped my glass to my friend which was recieved with a classic point of the finger and a smile.
After I got myself together in the morning I went to retrieve the truck to load her down with the big hammers and bags of concrete and fired her up to a little Ryan Bingham on the hit box. As I stopped in for some gatorade at the filling station the phone blew up and my pops was on the line wishing me safe travels to CA and ended it by telling me that he loved me.
By now the sun was high above and the heat was right behind it so the shirt came off and the hammers swung for the fences as though Pops was right there in the bleachers watching every at bat. As the sweat stung my eyes and the dust of the concrete stuck to my sweaty skin the bangers on the stoop next door brought over a couple of icy modelos and we gave each other lessons in our native tongues. The only gift one can give themselves greater than language is health and Lord knows I'm not winning that battle, but I'm trying. At the end of the day I turned some hard work into some cold cash the way it was meant to be and I wouldn't trade it for the world.
I returned home to a dog that knows how to do nothing but love the people that love her back and a roomate producing one of the most amazing pieces of art that I've seen from him or anybody for that matter. This was followed by a text message reading Lake Shore Drive midnight run, and to top this day off I'm laying down tracks on the map of every two laner forgotten by the world for our trek west on Wendsday and a month of riding a panhead across this great country and sleeping under the breeze of passing semis. These are the days of our lives and the man writing this down is the richest man in the world.
I spent the latter half of the night chasing a good one downtown to a club where my acme boots blended into the sea of dunk lows and canvas vans. The females had wanted to see a hotshot dj who was playing and who turned out to be an old friend of mine. As the club wound down I heard "Harlow this ones for you" followed by ZZ Top on the niteclub sound system and as the urban minds looked aimlessly at each other with dizzy stares, I tipped my glass to my friend which was recieved with a classic point of the finger and a smile.
After I got myself together in the morning I went to retrieve the truck to load her down with the big hammers and bags of concrete and fired her up to a little Ryan Bingham on the hit box. As I stopped in for some gatorade at the filling station the phone blew up and my pops was on the line wishing me safe travels to CA and ended it by telling me that he loved me.
By now the sun was high above and the heat was right behind it so the shirt came off and the hammers swung for the fences as though Pops was right there in the bleachers watching every at bat. As the sweat stung my eyes and the dust of the concrete stuck to my sweaty skin the bangers on the stoop next door brought over a couple of icy modelos and we gave each other lessons in our native tongues. The only gift one can give themselves greater than language is health and Lord knows I'm not winning that battle, but I'm trying. At the end of the day I turned some hard work into some cold cash the way it was meant to be and I wouldn't trade it for the world.
I returned home to a dog that knows how to do nothing but love the people that love her back and a roomate producing one of the most amazing pieces of art that I've seen from him or anybody for that matter. This was followed by a text message reading Lake Shore Drive midnight run, and to top this day off I'm laying down tracks on the map of every two laner forgotten by the world for our trek west on Wendsday and a month of riding a panhead across this great country and sleeping under the breeze of passing semis. These are the days of our lives and the man writing this down is the richest man in the world.
Tomahawk on Chris's Pan
It's funny how the whole publication game works..... shit the editors wont touch suddenly becomes "cool" two or three years later or should I say cool in a mainstream sense...... when it turns "cool" they can't get enough if it. I shot this a few years back and with the outcome of the shots I thought I had a little chuck of gold. I'm lucky that gold doesn't tarnish.... I've been working with Todd at Iron Horse a bit more lately. When he saw it he jumped right on it. Todd has a great eye for bikes and is trying to get more of these past the powers that be at Iron Horse. I can't wait to see the layout.
Thanks to Tomahawk for getting Pretty on the pan.
Thanks to Tomahawk for getting Pretty on the pan.
Friday, May 28, 2010
WrathChild
Say it doesn't matter
ain't nothin' gonna alter
the course of my destination.
I know I've got to find
some serious piece of mind,
or I know I'll just go crazy.
Electra Glide'n
I've been waiting at the front door for the UPS man to come like a child waiting for his proof of purchase price to arrive. Maybe tomorrow.... It was too nice today so I had to throw a leg over the 69 and took her for a glide.
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