Lacquer Lungs, Acetone and Acetylene..

Man this paint takes a while to dry, things had to go, other people can own chunks of the bikes.  Wrenches flying around, mind melting torch fumes.. Wizards toting bronze rods and flux paste.  Short story long, doing "real" paint jobs is a pain-in-the-ass...  Why rip apart a perfectly functioning bike?  Sometimes you just have to move on, or maybe it's just winter..  Get in there, hole up, get the heater cranking and get anti-social.

40 And Raining...

  Why won't it just snow already?

Haggard, In The Wind.. In The Woods...

Via Taylor at taylorbrubakerism.com  Cruising out to Haggard In The Woods..

Treasure-Roll Continued..

650, Shorts, Smokes, Style.

“Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish—a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow—to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested . . . Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.”  -HST

Forking By Freaks..

6 over fork tubes hopping this thing up to dual sport ground clearance.

Champagne pain in the ass...

That's what it's been these last few days, a real one.  I blame the holiday focused on overindulgence.  Now it's time to get out in the sun..

.070 Over.

Whelp it's that time of year again... Bikes are torn half apart, parts in the mail, ideas brewing in minds, forcing buddies to sit on bikes for the good ole' squint test..  Jim had no luck finding a 750 Triumph on CL as of late and with a BSA being out of the question, he managed to go hog-wild and found himself a 63' HD Ironhead.. Complete with bias-ply tire, shit-crazy rake and chromed cases.. Bad idea?  Wait, aren't all of our pointless quests based upon the so called "bad ideas"...  Anyhow, we pulled it apart and luckily engine parts existed within, rebuild time.. 

Older days..

    Found some photos from our buddy Eric K...  Think it's from last winter.

Tremors...

Freedom and Ferry rides.

Orcas Island trip from a few years back..  

     We were at some random fancy party eating hors d'oeuvres and drinking fine wine, when all the sudden it went full underwear.  Boobs were out, beers were downed, briefs, panties, a whole mess of dancing and awesome food.  The air was hot and thick with lusting youth, wandering eyes, a hunger for some sort of de-evolution.  So having been reduced to some sort of slobbering beer thirsty vultures.. I recall...  

     ...Later that night Jim finding a zip-loc bag full of money that someone had stuffed into his leather jacket... Possibly thinking it was their own??  Never did find out..  So the next day we wake up and load up the Volvo with some bikes and camping gear using the found money for a good old spontaneous camping trip.  The Orcas Island skatepark is the best, the raccoons there are frightening, hot-toddies all day with severe head colds looming..  All in all a good time.  Nothing like some free money well spent on freedom.  

Just lofting the bmx from point a to b on a crisp Northwest morning...

Car Chong...

It's Saturday, the day of car talk on NPR...  Had no idea Click and Clack had a Cheech and Chong thing going on...

Trike, Triple, Studs.. Morning Rage.

"Sometimes guns can't do everything, but prayer can"...  Stupid freaks and their faith.  Anyhow, who said three-wheelers are horrible redneck machines that flip over?  Oh yeah!  Starting today those studded tires are legal on our Portland streets, good thing, since the snow just dumps.. I don't think I knew anybody in the Midwest who ever used studded winter tires.  Kids today...  Apparently shithead yuppie parents are actually freaked out by a real Halloween porch setup..  They would walk to the other side of the road.  And may I say, rightfully so.  I spent most of the day pumping tranquilizers into the candy, setting up my trap door into the child sex dungeon..  We gave candy to a bum, a fifty year old lady, two teenage girls, and one kid dressed as batman, no one else could muster the courage to visit.. Thanks world, go back home and jerk off into your iPhone, cook an organic TV dinner, and settle deep, and I mean deep into that vintage couch.  It's a scary world out there...

Watch the hose-nose...

Tim The Motherload..

Garage Days...

Loose Sue..

Still can't believe how much this thing was ridden..  Full on trouble machine from the get go..

Preston Petty..

The season for extra fenders and floatation devices, or maybe we'll just drive our leaky trucks around town?

Know your chopper...

Too familiar, too retarded...  I was entertained and may have cracked a smile I so had to re-blog it..  Found at C&H...

Dean's Cramps Van..

 Camping on logging roads in southern Oregon.

Pete's birthday party (not related to story).

   Jim on the edge in a blizzard.

     I miss this heshed out piece of shit.  Best $600 spent...  Bad tags, no insurance, had to stomp on the floor to start the thing (wire short), broken power steering, hit a telephone pole and crunched in the maltese cross door.. But man, it didn't leak water, had good brakes, 25+ mpg, blasting stereo, blacked out windows, gutted party porch in the back!!  Some people would agree that our little crew was in train-wreck times during this period and there was no better train to wreck that the 87 Toyota...

       At some point during the Portland to Grand Canyon trip a Cramps album got stuck in the stereo, thus the van's name.  That trip killed it, wild camping down the coast in some awful storms, sitting in the beast wondering if the rain and snow would stop.  Building arm muscles turning through the redwoods, dodging trees and logging trucks.  

       The night it died I woke up sleeping in the couch (it had a couch) after my body smacked the ceiling.  Jim was jumping speed bumps at high speed, laughing hysterically..  He finally cooled it, and after failing miserably at finding a place to sleep we had to hang out in the van until morning.  The crisp garbage air of Oakland blew in with the rising sun and hoards of homeless folk.  

      It was time to get out of there.  We were to be Grand Canyon bound by 2pm.  As we found out the transmission decided to fall apart during the previous monster truck night.. So here Jim and I are being heckled by crackheads trying to diagnose and reattach a burnt transmission.  A water main blew just down the block and a small wave started rolling down the road as I'm under the van, already soaked in ATF my temper is fuming.  We avoid the wave and push it to the other side of the road, minutes go by and another sloshing wave is rolling down both sides!!  The wave is filthy, full of garbage, broken bottles, pineapples, motor oil...  Again we push it to dry land.  I crawl back under the mess and somehow arc a wire causing a fire, so here I am pacing around a parking lot, covered in motor oil, frantically rifling through my bags trying to find a knife... At this point I'm going to stab out the tires, break the windows and abandon the thing..  The knife was never found, but we were on a tight schedule, it was time to call in some backup and get this Grand Canyon mission on the road..  

       We bid farewell to the busted van, hoping some bum would put it to good use.  A friend showed up and soon we were on a straight shot into the barren desert Southwest.  Little did we know it would be 10 degrees at the edge of the world. But that's a whole other story...

       Whiskey won't warm you when you're ill prepared, beer will only fuel the fire, Las Vegas will ruin anything you've been working towards, scummy punks in grandma's car, tent village, they can be sexy but 19 year olds are not for dating, peeing off sketchy remote cliffs at the Grand Canyon is as epic as it sounds.. At the end of it all you want is to be home standing the garage in disbelief..  On the verge of getting kicked off a Greyhound..  How did it get that weird.  Oh and travel light next time!!

     

From Pine trees to Red rocks..

Sometimes you wonder how the old buddies are doing...  People manage to seize bikes here in the Northwest, so you can only wonder how Frankie's 650 is holding up in Arizona..  As pictured, he always had one of the best tool rolls, everything but the kitchen sink..  Razor blade footpegs, the scariest steering situation... Oh yeah!

In the woods Illustrated..

Not so Haggard, should be Proud..

Between a house full of dead animals, empty beer cans, tires, and greasy old motorcycle parts I'm not sure if either of us even have a sense of smell anymore...  At least one of us is responsible enough to keep 2 jobs and school going.. Emily, first day of last year in the college..  In-between working as a life death preserver.

Apparent Sketchiness Brings Bikinis..

Haggard In The Woods photos pt.2...

Still waiting for the second roll of film...

Shaggy's Coastal Wedding photos pt.1 of ?

It's been a rough and wild two weekends of camping.. Two coast runs, haggard in the woods, bikes snapping in half, awful hangovers, awesome chill cruises down the 101, winding bikes out in the sand, salt damage, freeway blasting, off-roading choppers...  More photos on the way..  

Haggard In The Woods photos pt.1 of ?

This isn't just re-hashed Easyriders Smut.. Real Deal!

In the never ending search for motorcycle gems I came across a huge photo collection (complete with labeled negatives) showing early Bay Area MC Club activity...  Richmond Ramblers, Modesto MC, Lodi MC, goes on...  1949-1957.  Field meets, bar hangouts, beach bash, hillclimbs.  This stuff is gold, packed with class.  Here's a few.

Silent Operation..

   Of course.. I get it...  Had to rip this one off the wall.

I Spy; foul play...

Summer ending refreshments...

What do you do when one carburetor has a ruined pilot circuit hole, and the other has a slide that is so seized that you get pinned wide open forcing you to smash the damned thing with a boot??  You make an honest listing and post the shitty ones on eBay for parts, then, find an alternative..  Suckers already sold with some new Amals on the way.  Better than spending my life savings on spark plug stock number 1111...  The only thing more fun that fouling out on I-5 is having your sidestand swing down at 60...   Time for the road and Bikini Bob's Birthday Bbq Bash.

Also finished Scarecrow Jimmy's top-end last night, now onto his worn carb, beat to hell primary side and wiggle wheel..  If we stay away from Busch 18/16oz packs things may keep looking up.  Maybe you're not supposed to break a bike in during a 10 minute burnout? 

       For some it takes encouragement to kick a 441 victor..

Jump!!!

It's that time of year.. Time to dance, time to fix what's broken and ride this summer out.  How long until we have Preston Petty fenders zip-tied to these freedom machines?