So, I got a call from Pacman a few months back saying he was in the Paisano offices in L.A. and they had a picture of me laying out on the table. He told me that he mentioned that he was a friend of mine and they said, "no shit?". He went on to tell them that not only did he know me, but he pinstriped my bike at Born Free this past June.
Turns out, they got the photo from Michael Lichter. He shot it while we were in Sturgis tearing down Vanocker Canyon right after a huge storm that dropped golfball sized hail on us for a good ten minutes, not shitting you. Everyone in the group started pulling over and taking cover while my friend Kurt and I said fuck that and just kept riding through it.
Since they liked the shot so much, they wanted to use it as their cover shot, but they had no idea who I was. They all seemed a little dumbfounded cuz what are the odds of Pacman being there right before their deadline, seeing the photo, and having a history with both me and the bike....
Pacman was there because he was designing the artwork for the 25th anniversary cover of Biker, another Paisano mag. Just so happens he saw the photo of me and they asked him to hit me up. He did, and the rest is history, even though they spelled my last name wrong. Regardless, I could care less.
It's a cool shot and it's on the cover of a mag that is dedicated to riding, which is what matters most to me. I re-built this bike for Born Free, along with Rich. It came out of Shamrock/Irish Rich Custom Cycles, was ridden out to L.A., put in the invited builder's circle at BF3, then ridden all the way up the coast and back through montana and wyoming. That's only a fraction of the mileage I put on that bitch this past season. It was, and always will be a RIDER.
I've said it before, I don't care much for show bikes. Motorcycles aren't meant to be garaged, or looked at, or fired up once in every great while... they are meant to be ridden, stock or custom. I don't care if the bike looks like a space ship or has a $15,000 engine, if it can't run down the highway at 100mph mile after mile, it aint worth a damn to me(unless of course it's an antique, even so, look at the CannonBall Run). Talk all you want about so and so's bike that's been featured at every major show, if it came in on a trailer or isn't ridden on a regular basis, it might as well be a pile of parts. Now, I'm sorry if I'm rubbing a few people the wrong way, but then again, if you don't agree with me, tough shit. We'll never be "bro's" or ride cross-country together gathering memories, emptying beer bottles, chasing tail, or collecting stories about other illegal shit for the rest of our lives, simple as that. That's not to say that I haven't placed or had my bike in shows before, I have. It always occurs to me while doing so, I realize that having it sit there is a lot less exciting than me ripping down some road on it, which is what I'd much rather be doing with my time. That's what I'm in it for and it's what I've dreamt since I was able to walk. That's the reason I was happy to hear that it was going on the cover of In The Wind. I love Street Chopper, Dice, and a lot of the other mags out there, I do, but this mag is almost completely dedicated to shots of people riding their motorcycles.
Titties, riding shots, features, coverage of some of the bigger events, and Biker Magazine's last 25 years. If any of those interest you, go grab a copy of either mag out on newstands now.
A big thanks to Pacman, Kim Peterson, and Michael Lichter -
...birthday is today. Jim Morrison would have been 68 years old, or, is 68 whether you believe rumors that he's still alive. Rumors of him living in Africa, working for the CIA, returning to the states as a suit and tie businessman, or wandering around the country like a gypsy - among so many other conspiracies. Stephen King claims that he picked up a hitch-hiker in Texas one night, swearing that it was Jim years after his death. One of the weirdest aspects about his death is the fact that no one was contacted regarding it for three days following it. Not the media, not the band, not his friends, not even his family.
So, what better way to celebrate his birthday than to celebrate his rap sheet -
September 28, 1963 in Tallahasee, Florida. Charges of petty larceny, disturbing the peace, resisting arrest and public drunkenness at a football game
December 9, 1967 in New Haven, Connecticut. He was booked on charges of indecency, public obscenity, disturbing the peace and resisting arrest. He was maced backstage by a cop, then started telling the story during the performance of Backdoor Man, until the cops stepped out on stage and stopped the show. Little blue suit, little blue hat, little blue pig...
January 28, 1968 in Las Vegas, Nevada. Jim was arrested at the Pussycat a' Go Go for public drunkenness and vagrancy. On the ride to the station and while being booked, Jim was livid and incited the cops who threatened to beat him up after their shift ended. March 1, 1969 in Miami, Florida. His felony charge was for lewd lascivious behavior, two misdemeanors for public profanity, two for public exposure and one for public drunkenness. Police said Jim exposed himself on stage. - He was supposedly arrested two more times before his "death". Once in November of 1969 in Phoenix for drunk and disorderly conduct on a flight to see the Rolling Stones. And finally, in August of 1970 in Los Angeles for suspicion of drunkenness. He got piss-drunk and passed out on the front porch of a west hollywood home.
One thing's for sure, while all of the other bands of his time were singing about love and peace, Morrison brought darkness to rock n roll, not to mention revolt and an anti-authority feel to his followers and concerts. I've always been a fan for this very reason.
As drunk, out of control, drugged-up, and unusual as he was, he's one of my heroes...
Bikes, art, women, music, alcohol, guns, and a lot of riding...
Grew up around bikes and have been in love with them since I can remember.
I work with Irish Rich in the Denver area and travel on my chop whenever I get the chance...