100 g's

and counting...page views that is.

Whatever happens in the next 24 hours, just remember to stay calm, and make sure you have a bad ass sword and battle axe ready if shit does hit the fan.

Thanks to all who enjoy the blog and the crap I throw up on here.

Wrench

Coverage of the Gypsy Run in the latest issue of Wrench Mag. With over 400 bikes at one gas station, somehow I snuck into the photo.

For those of you who enjoy long-distance riding, this run is one of the best I've attended. Walter puts on a great ride with free beer, great camping spots, two lane roads, and good people. The East Coast is something I had never encountered on two wheels also... Well worth it.

Nemo

Sometimes -

Shit cracks. And sometimes when shit cracks, you gotta rip it off. Memories from my last trip to Austin, TX.

Alto el Fuego

24 hours from now I'll be on a drunk bus headed for what will be a blurry night of head-banging, mosh-pitting, and whiskey drinking to the best metal band in the world. Yeah, I said it. Don't believe me, watch their video I posted here. Reminds me of my solo chopper trip out to NYC. 

Now, that's if Matt Pike doesn't check himself into rehab again and ruin my night as he did this past summer. What rockstar goes to rehab for alcohol, really? Heroin, sure. Cocaine, maybe. But alcohol, come on.... After the release of their best album yet(in my opinion), he better come home to Colorado and fingerbang that guitar like a possessed wizard of darkness.

Now THIS is a music video. Why was I not asked to be in this? Looks like Nick Pew beat me to the punch...

Fuck, Yes.

Face, Meet Fist

Floor, meet face



ouch...

Denver City

Tonight -

Action -

- Bronsolino, in Colorado.

Video....Lousy audio, Lots of Rocky Mountain smoke.



Dude never got on-stage while performing. At one point, he was outside... If you're East of the Rocky Mountains, you may smell a skunk.

Fuckin A Right

These fuckers are everywhere

I'm Searching -

For an in-line springer...

It does not have to be in good shape or even one piece - I just need the Top Spring Perch to be in good shape.

If anyone knows where I can find one, please shoot me an email.

speedandglory@hotmail.com

Low and Lean

Vets

Killing in the name of...

Complain about your day job, your boring life, or some inconsequential bullshit that may be making your life more difficult. Shit doesn't really matter. Just think of what these men and women go through day to day for all of us.... Thank you to all the military men and women, past and present.

Colorado

Cannonballin'

Sunday, September 9th, I woke up at the ass-crack of dawn in Sandusky to see these Cannonballers take off for the day. I had experienced this Run in 2010 when they were in Clovis, NM, so I wanted to take it in once more. Coincidentally, this time I was 1,300 miles from home and I was on the same track they were, so why not.

Real exciting. I got up and walked over half-awake, took some pictures, said hello to Michael Lichter, then went back across the street to pass out for a few more hours. 

Four hours later, I was up with some coffee in me and the bike packed. Destination - Madison, WI - an easy 440 miles. 

With an hour to gain heading west and no real rush, I exceeded the speed limit a little less than usual.  I did get pulled over in Indiana. Similar to the last 8 or so times I've been pulled over on my bike, I talked my way out of a ticket. Don't ask me how? Most of the time I get to talking bikes with the officer, who is usually a male, naturally, he should like motorcycles if he's a normal swingin' dick. Half-way through the conversations, the reason for pulling me over usually turns into an afterthought. 

This Indiana State Trooper walked up and said, "I pulled you over for excessive speed, do you know...?" and he stopped, basically answering his own question by looking my bike over. "You don't have a speedo?" I told him yeah, explaining that I didn't have a cruise on this bitch either. He asked me a few questions about the bike, not the usual 'where you coming from', 'any alcohol in your system', or my favorite 'are you concealing any drugs or firearms'. After a few harmless motorcycle-related questions, he got serious and returned to his car. A minute later, he came out and handed me this, saying "My boss would fire me if he knew I was letting you go for how fast you were going." I got back on the bike, thanked him, then laughed and laughed and laughed as I made my way back into traffic. Maybe next time smokey. 

I made it to Chicago by mid afternoon, right after the Chicago Bears game got out. I pulled into South Chicago on fumes and made an emergency stop at a gas station right off of the highway, just South of the White Sox Stadium. Fucking Ghe-tto. Crack heads, hoopties full of bruthas rolling through, and cops in bulletproof vests. Went inside to take a piss and a big black cop tried stopping me on my way out. Guessing he was wondering what the hell some dirty, long-haired white-boy was doing on that side of town. I gassed and got back on the road, rolling and splitting through hordes of cars displaying Chicago Bears shit all over them as I made my way through town on the Chicago Skwy. Shit got so congested, I was using the shoulder most of the time. I made it through to my sister's in Madison before the sun went down and started drinking beer(Ale Asylum, Madison brewery, good stuff)... I was about to take a break.

WWWD

Hero

Tri(c)ked Out

Rad shot. I believe it's an old Hessian photo? Whether it is or not, it's bad-ass...

TT -

Halloween -

As an adult, getting candy is still just as good. What a holiday...

Speaking of...

My brother, here's a monster he got last month in the mountains outside of Crested Butte, CO. I've posted pictures of his kills before, but nothing like this. He shot this beast with a bow! 

Saw some cows running up a ridge, took off after em', stopped when he got to the top of the ridge and heard a bull bugling behind him. He turned around and there it was, fifteen yards away, broad-side. Pulled back and shot the son of a bitch. This thing ran about fifty yards and dropped. No blood trail to track for miles, just a sharp, clean shot through the heart. Straight killer... and a sweet onesie.

Early Departure

Saturday, September 8th. My friend Brett and I took off from the group and headed South through Jersey, hitting back-roads on our way to I-80, where we planned on splitting off from one another.

There aren't too many people I meet and instantly get along with. To be honest, most people think I'm a prick when they first meet me. In time, almost all get to like me, but, you can't please everyone. I'm use to it. I keep to myself for the most part, I speak what I think when needed, and I don't kiss anyone's ass. No tough-guy routine, just the way I've always been. Brett is one guy in the industry who seems as though I've known for my entire life. I haven't, but the dude is someone I call a great friend, only having hung out a handful of times.

Riding with people for the first time can change your perception of them. It can make or break a person in my mind. I've ridden with guys who get it and others who don't. It helps separate the retards from the real deals in the motorcycle world. There are people out there who claim they ride, there are those that actually do, and there are those that excel at it to a level above most others. There's no scale or measuring of skill, but when you ride alongside another biker, you can get a feel for their dedication, love, and skill for what is.... motorcycling.

Trust in the person you're riding with, as well as the foresight to know what the other rider is thinking are two things that make riding with someone safer, and all around more enjoyable. The one other person I feel rides so similar to me that I know what he's gonna do before he does it, is my brother. I believe that's because we've ridden with one another for over ten years and we like to light it up in heavy traffic.

Feeling like we had been riding together for over ten years as well, we ripped through the curves on narrow, two lane roads. It's a good feeling... there's nothing worse than a fellow rider completely ruining your experience on the road. When you don't have to think or worry as much, riding is much more of what it should be, a stress reliever. 

We got to the I-80 junction, took a long break, and checked the weather to the West... rain. So, on with the rain-gear, said our good bye, and off I went. Once I hit the Pennsylvania border, it started coming down on me. Not bad, I've had worse, but not light either. Made it through and had overcast the rest of the day. 

With the Cannonball Run ahead of me on the same route, I wanted to catch up. Their stop for the night was in Sandusky. I knew I could make it there, and I did, pulling in around midnight. Got to their hotel and tried seeing if I knew anyone still up at that time of night. I didn't, but like always, I made friends. I met a guy from Wisconsin, about sixty years old and loaded to the gills on what I could smell was whiskey. Had a good, long conversation about his 1925 Triumph and the plan for the next day in Milwaukee, then I crossed the street to pass out for the night.

I had to wake up early if I wanted to get a glimpse of these guys taking off in the morning...

Til next time Brett, hopefully sooner than later... oh, and according to this picture, we're handicapped.

My Chopper Is For Sale

I really hate to do this, but, all great things must come to an end...

This chopper has been everything to me for the past four years, has been ridden 1,000 miles in every direction from Denver, and has been extrememly dependable trip after trip.

It's a proven, rideable custom chop that handles great, which makes this very difficult for me to sell off.  

- Engine work done last year - new cam, pushrods, lifters, shaved heads(Randall at Deluxe Motorcycles did all of the work - one of Denver's best mechanics)

- RaceTec internal suspension kit in the front end

- .4 gallon Aux gas tank(with elect. fuel pump) for long stretches between stops

- newer primary - put on this past spring

- new rear master cyl.

- new clutch cable

- new throttle cable

- new chain

- new battery

- new brake pads

- extra set of tires(with good mileage left on them)

All fabrication, assembly, and maintenance done at Shamrock Fabrication in Broomfield, CO.

Contact me and make an offer if interested : speedandglory@hotmail.com

Cat-skills

I'm not talking about kittens...

Friday morning, September 7th, I took off for the run. Weaved my way through the NYC streets on my way to Jersey for the kick off at Cool Beans Coffee shop. I had a rough idea of where I was going, getting to the spot as the masses of bikes were leaving a little after 10 am.

As soon as I got to the jump-off point I pulled up to Walter(Kickstart Cycle) at the back of the pack. With my full-face on, he didn't know who I was. As soon as I told him, it was as if I hadn't seen him in ten years. If you don't know him, take it from me, Walter is the shit!

I grabbed gas as fast as I could across the street and took off, catching up to a small group of riders, hoping they knew where to go. Zig-zagging our way through neighborhoods, we eventually caught up to the entire group. 400+ bikes strong, rolling through town after town, not stopping. Stop signs, we kept rolling. Red light, we kept rolling. Police trying to stop us, we kept rolling. People were in awe as we passed by, what seemed to be a never-ending stream of loud motorcycles. It was one of the coolest runs/events I have ever been a part of.

With this many bikes, we took over gas stations, overwhelming the workers who had no idea of what was heading their way. There were crack-ups and breakdowns, splitting the pack into smaller groups throughout the day. By chance, I got hooked up with a good group of guys, about eight bikes in total. A couple FXR's, a sporty, a bagger, a few smaller chops, and a fuel spilling panhead. All East-coast guys with Bill from Biltwell who flew in from Cali. 

Thank god these guys knew where we were headed, because I wouldn't have been able to find my way. In time, we had to cheat, strapping a smartphone to one of the gas tanks for navigation.

Got to the campground, took it over, and started to party. Anything and everything you could imagine at a biker party. I had to laugh, there was an old lady, I mean OLD, sitting in her lawn chair next to her RV with her yapping dog right next to her. I turned to the guy I was talking with and said, "that lady is gonna want to go to bed in a couple hours, and that shit ain't gonna happen." I could only imagine her screaming at her old man for draggin' her out to the country for what they thought was gonna be a quiet evening of camping. Little did they know, over 400 bikes were headed for the same spot....must've been an "oh shit" kind of moment when bikes kept rolling in, over and over and over. 

Got loaded, walking from one camping spot to the next taking shots straight out of the bottle with my pockets loaded with beers. Seeming like one of the only loners there, rolling solo from Denver, I make friends along the way. I was, on the other hand, hoping to run into my friend Brett from Jersey. Being dark as hell and with people everywhere, I figured I didn't have a chance of bumping into him. I did though, along with our buddy Andy(American Icon Screenprinting), and the three of us continued to get lit. Good times with these two, always a blast.

Rich and T-Rod will get a kick out of this one... With a massive pile of firewood, guess which drunk-ass was feeding this fire? Sure, it started off small, but that fucker was about 8 ft high when I got done with it.

Looking Back, Looking Up

Stumbled upon something rare...

I'll leave the rest of the explaining up to Irish Rich, after all, he's the reason why I came back from Wisconsin with this supposed piece of Chopper Gold -

Rest

Thursday, September 6th, was my day to rest.

I slept in at the Trump, in their unfucking-believable bed. Got up, took my time getting going, then did some sight-seeing. The only attraction I hit while I was there was the 9/11 memorial. I figured it was the  week before the anniversary and nothing else intrigued me, so I walked down to check it out.

People everywhere, hordes and hordes of people walking, biking, driving, a never-ending stream of human beings. Nuts. Security to get into the memorial was worse than an airport check-point, sort of ridiculous.

Got back to the hotel, hopped on the bike, and cruised over to the Indian Larry Garage for the Gypsy Pre-Party in Brooklyn. A four mile ride, but it was Fashion Week in SoHo, so when I left the streets were filled with people attending this deal, which seemed to stretch for miles. People, mostly younger adults, all over in the streets. Red Light, they were crossing the street. Cars coming through, they were crossing the street. An alien space ship could've landed and these idiots would've kept on flooding the streets without notice. Good thing for loud motorcycles, cuz I just kept rolling through intersections revving my motor and these fools were jumping out of the way. Swerving through people and dodging the fucking taxis, almost getting clipped by a few on my way, but I made it. Over the Williamsburg Bridge and into Brooklyn for some free hot dogs and beer.

What interested me the most about NY was the architecture and bridges. Pretty gritty, historic, and cool... I dug the whole scene. Definitely a place I wanna hit again next year if possible - the Invitational is one event that I've always felt has had more of an appeal to me than any other. I love L.A., but the NY scene has got its own feel. It's dirtier, in a good way.

Ol' Eagle Eye

Aka - Rich, caught this little gem on my bike last week. 

Walked out to my bike at the end of the day and said, "How's that chain running?" I said,"Great, hasn't worn or stretched much at all, better than any chain I've ever had." Then he said, "What's that?", pointing at one of the links. Riveted end of the chain pin busted, with the pin slowly making its way out of the back-side of the link...that would've been great going 90 down the freeway.

When it comes to reading text messages on his phone, he's damn near blind, but catching a small serious detail on a motorcycle, he's on it like stink on shit.

Rocky Mountain Back-Roads

Blind Riding

Wednesday, September 5th - Sandusky, OH to NYC - 500+ miles.

Blasted across central Pennsylvania, through the Appalachian Mountains and on into NYC.

When I finally got within 100 miles of NY, I stopped to gas up and write directions down. 20 miles to go, I gassed up one more time and pasted the directions to my tank. Unfortunately, the sun was on its way down when I finally hit the city limits and darkness had settled in. Genius way of finding my way through one of the biggest cities in the world, one with horrible roads as well as one that I had never been to.

Hell, I thought the traffic in L.A. was bad. NYC is way worse, but I still split lanes, legal or not. No option but to keep going, I made it to the Holland Tunnel, paid $12 to get through, and ended up in the crotch of NYC. Pulled over once I got through the tunnel, checked navigation on my smartphone(say what you want, smartphones are a life-saver on the road - direction, weather patterns, whatever...) and got easy directions to the hotel I was staying at just blocks away.

Turns out, an x-girlfriend of mine from Minneapolis was staying in NYC on business the same exact dates I was to be there as well. So, having been in contact with her over the last 9 months, she offered to let me stay with her. Well, she was staying at the Trump SoHo. For those of you who don't have a clue, it's a super fancy hotel to say the least. It's not that I didn't feel comfortable walking into this place, but I definitely didn't feel like I belonged there after four long days on the road. I pulled up to the front door and the valet said, "I can't park that thing". He took my gear, oil still dripping out of my bag, gave me a ticket for their parking facility and sent me on my way. $70/night to park! Whatever, 24 hour security and my bike was parked right outside security's "trailer". Plus, I was staying for free.

Luxurious, posh, extravagant... call it what you want, I was probably the dirtiest son of a bitch to walk through their doors, ever. Everyone in suits, dresses, and decked out apparel - I didn't really blend in too well in an old pendleton, jeans, and cowboy boots. Road-worn, dirty, jeans full of grease and oil, and smelling like a dog, I walked up to the front desk. A weird look on the front desk lady's face, she asked, "Sir, do you have room with us?" I started laughing and said, "Yes, yes I do". Gave her my info, as she punched it into her computer the weird look went away and her ass-kissing customer service attitude came out. To give you an idea of the Trump's clientele, Dwyane Wade walked by me as the lady handed me my room key. Again, I started laughing.

After spending the last three nights sleeping on a picnic table, a couch, then a run-down motel 6, this place was like heaven after a long trip on the road(minus all of the yuppies and rich assholes). This hotel room was bigger than my apartment and was nicer than anywhere I've ever been to. I've stayed in the suites at the Hard Rock in Vegas, but this room put those to shame. With my x still at work, I went to the hotel bar for a drink, $16.50 for a Makers. Again, the laughing ensued. Luckily, the hipster bartender liked me and bought me my second round(pouring doubles-triples). I chatted it up with some jazzed up broads at the bar, watched the rest of the NYG-DAL football game, and threw a bunch of money at the bartender before heading back to the room with a buzz.

Day Lost - Hammer Down

Chop fixed, I got back on the road the day after Labor Day and headed East. With the remnants of Hurricane Isaac ahead of me, I stayed one step behind the wall of rain that moved towards the coast.

No plan but to get as far as possible, I-80 Eastbound I went. Across half of Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, and most of Ohio on a nice, 90+ degree day. Once I hit the east side of Indiana, the sun was going down and the bugs came out. Crossing into Ohio came the fog and constant construction zones. With the speed at which I was traveling, I should have been stopped multiple times by the po-lice. Out of the ordinary, I stopped two state-troopers at separate gas stops in Ohio to ask them questions instead of the other way around.

I needed a place to crash for the night. So, after crossing into Ohio and running into a copper at a gas stop, I figured I'd ask if the service plazas along the toll-road were allowable places for me to pass out for a couple hours? I wasn't gonna set up a tent, just pass out on the concrete next to my bike instead of getting off of the beaten path to find a reasonable place to camp or pay for a hotel. Time was short, needing to get from Des Moines to NYC in less than two days, so a few hours of sleep was all I needed. Well, that was highly frowned upon. Small-talk is the best talk with the boys in blue, so off I went again.

Pulling into Sandusky on fumes that night, I decided to call it a day. Over 600 miles and still a headache from my drinking binge two nights before, I was done.

Chicks and Ink 8

Beer Joint Breakdown

What seemed like the longest day of my life.

9 hungover hours out on a bar patio, fixing my chop.

Tore apart my carb, cleaned it out with a entire can of carb clean, and buttoned it back up - messing up my throttle cable in the process. Took my carb off, and like a dumbass, didn't disconnect the cable. So, after taking my sweet-ass time spit-shining the insides, I had another issue to deal with.

Let me tell you, other than unlimited water, beer, tacos, and good music - a bar ain't no place you wanna fix your bike at. With a handful of guys who annoyed the shit out of me as I got more and more frustrated throughout the day, there were just as many great people I called friends when I finally rode off that night.

As the day went on, the booze kept flowing, along with the foot-traffic at the bar. Had to call Rich a few times for sound advice and a little peace of mind, felt like taking my boot-heel to my bike on more than one occasion. In all, I learned more about my chop and myself I guess. As much of a headache my day was, I would do it all over again if I could. I will, next trip I'm sure. It's always something out on the road. Riding alone, my chop never fails to teach me a thing or two(or ten) every time I leave the Rocky Mountains. If mechanical issues aren't appealing to you, don't attempt long-distance rides...

Thanks to Craig for breakfast and for being a great bartender, Damien for the spark plug run and a couch to crash on(even though your x-wife showed up at midnight, making me feel like I was on an episode of cops), the night bartender for playing outlaw country music, Fatty and Jeff again for allowing me to use their patio as my personal shop, Mike W. for hashing it out with me for hours trying to figure shit out and for making multiple trips home for supplies/tools, old-timer Nick for being one of the coolest guys I've met in quite some time, and Irish Rich for putting up with me from 700 miles away.

Carb, hanging from the throttle cable....moron.
Ammunition.
A fraction of my tool kit. I bring everything, except for what I really need on any given trip.
Knox, the bar drunk. Every bar's got one.