The weather is about to turn to shit here in Colorado. Got some riding in yesterday, hitting Peak to Peak Highway with temps in the high 60's. Had to get my fix before possible snow on its way. Raining now, we'll see what tomorrow brings.
Well, oh what a feeling that burns down low when you ain't got no where to turn, or no where to go It makes me feel like sometimes I'm outta control So I'm gonna get wasted with all my country heroes
I'm drinkin' some George Jones, and a little bit of Coe Haggard's easin' my misery and Waylon's keepin' me from home Hank's givin' me those high times - Cash is gonna sing it low I'm here gettin' wasted - here with my country heroes
I'm drinkin' that whiskey out of that glass and if that ain't country, boy, you can kiss my ass I wanna hear them old songs - nothin' of the new 'cause this might be the last time I'm gonna see you
So I'm drinkin' some George Jones, and a little bit of Coe Haggard's easin' my misery and Waylon's keepin' me from home Hanks givin' me those high times - Cash is gonna sing it low and I'm here gettin' wasted - just like my country heroes
I'm here gettin' wasted - with all my country heroes
After a long night of music and drinking, I was told that I wasn't allowed to make my Helena visit a "one night stand". So, to sweeten the deal, Leny and Murna told me they needed a chauffeur the following day to drive them to Butte - in Leny's '69 Mach 1. Not only could I not pass that up, but I wanted to spend more time with friends that I don't get to see nearly enough.
Saturday, July 2nd The next day, I fired up the Mustang and we hit the road. About ten miles down the highway, I was babying the gas pedal when Leny asked me "what are you doing"? I replied "what", as he responded, "hit it". So, I floored it. There aren't too many cars that give me goose-bumps, I'm all two-wheels, but this car lit me up as I crushed the gas pedal. Montana back-roads are only as good as the vehicle you're driving and this thing was nasty. Needless to say, we made it to Butte in no time.
We spent most of our day there, then made our way back to Helena to visit with more of our Sturgis friends. A low-key night was much needed on my part, so it was good to relax, have some drinks and good food.
Sunday, July 3rd The next day, we hit a breakfast spot before heading over to the shop to bolt up my tank and get me back on the road.
My plan was to head to Sheridan, WY for the night, stop in at The Mint Bar downtown, have some cold ones and check out any Independence Day festivities. 370 miles was what lied ahead of me. I cranked it out, making it there in about 5 1/2 hours. When I pulled into the North side of Sheridan, it was a little after 4 o'clock in the afternoon. After talking to some locals and figuring out that nothing was going on as far as 4th of July celebrations, I got the itch to get back on the road. With 5 hours of daylight left, I wasn't about to find a place to bed down and call it a day. So, off I went.
I love Wyoming. Besides all of the Meth Billboards and a few shitty towns along I-25, I love the State. Every time I roll across it, I'm smiling from ear to ear. 415 miles left on the day and I wasn't looking back.
By the time I got to Wheatland, the sun was setting and fireworks were going off all around me. It was an incredible feeling, riding solo across the USA on my motorcycle and having a grand finale exploding in the sky as I made my closing stretch home.
On to Cheyenne, where I felt like my ass was gonna fall off as I rolled into a truck-stop. I took a good, long break, even a cigarette as I sipped a cup of coffee to get my nerves back. As I laid on the concrete, a guy on a bagger pulled up and started wiping all of the bugs off of his fairing. Some fool in a van came walking by and made a comment about how many bugs hit his windshield, I could only laugh. Proof that most people have no clue how easy they have it in their a/c, leather interior, cruise control cages of boredom.
From there, I tucked in behind a SUV to protect myself from bugs, wind, and an always possible deer crossing. As I got closer to home, I hit every red light on my way into town when all I wanted was to see the inside of my garage before I deliriously ran myself off of the road. I made it home and was greeted by hundreds, yes hundreds on flies in my apartment... left the garbage sitting for two weeks, whoops... a killing spree ensued.
Freedom is the main reason I embark on these journeys. Riding down the road on two wheels can make you feel alive, but riding cross-country opens your eyes to both who you are and the human spirit overall. People that don't take chances or live their lives the way they want just don't understand, anyone can do it. Call it free spirited, courageous, living on the edge, whatever. I don't want to look back on my life and feel that it was normal. I do this because it's what makes me happy, it's what makes me feel like I could die at any moment, it makes me feel alive. Some people call it crazy, others envy the lifestyle - I pay no attention to what others think, good or bad, it won't change the way I get my kicks.
Like all of the others, it was a great ride... what a trip it was.
Leny's Mach 1 Montana Mountain Ranges A good friend I made while visiting, Leny and Murna's Boxer, Boom Montana Sunsets
So, I've been slackin' a lot on engraving since I got back from taking CJ's class last Feb. With the re-build of my bike, along with all of the trips I've taken on the chop since then - I just sort of put it aside and procrastinated all spring/summer.
Cruised over to Rich's today and he was gone, didn't have my phone on me, so I returned home and got to something I haven't given enough of my time to...
I didn't put any color into it, but for a couple hours worth of work, I'm pretty happy with how it came out -
Motorcycles are capable of activating the brain's endocannabinoid system. Some effects may include a general change in consciousness, mild euphoria, feelings of general well-being, relaxation or stress reduction, enhanced recollection of episodic memory, increased sensuality, increased awareness of sensation, creative or philosophical thinking, disruption of linear memory, paranoia, agitation, and anxiety, potentiation of other psychedelics, and increased awareness of sound, patterns and color. They are more similar to the above categories as dose/mileage increases.
If you didn't care what happened to me, And I didn't care for you We would zig zag our way through the boredom and pain Occasionally glancing up through the rain Wondering which of the buggers to blame And watching for pigs on the wing. -R. Waters
From stealing, to racing, to jumping motorcycles - one of the baddest motherfuckers in the industry's history.
1968 - Caesar's Palace Fountain Jump...Fractured skull, broken pelvis, ribs, and hips. This jump put him on the map.
1974 - Snake River Canyon, Idaho. 350 mph at a height of 2,000 feet above the canyon floor, but his parachute opened prematurely. Crazy son of a bitch made $6 million off of it. He eventually wanted to jump the Grand Canyon, but "the man" shut him down. 1970 Jump Bike. XR-750, now in the Smithsonian.
He beat his former press agent with a baseball bat for writing a book that made him look bad... talk about street justice. They gave him a work-release while in the joint, only to revoke it after the Judge found out he was being driven to and from in a Stutz convertible with his own Chauffeur. Not only that, but he was providing transportation for other inmates to their work-release as well, in limos.
The dude definitely lived life by his own set of rules...
"I guess I thought I was Elvis Presley but I'll tell ya something. All Elvis did was stand on a stage and play a guitar. He never fell off on that pavement at no 80 mph." -Evel Kneivel
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...