Bandit's 2000 Blue Flame

Continued from page 2...... With a couple weeks left, I called Joker Machine daily. I didn't want to press, but I was going out of my mind. My contact, Geoff, had faced some health problems and decided that smoking was his cure. I didn't want to add to the stress of building high-precision, very costly components that were already on back order. I considered myself a nuisance so I was trying to tread lightly. The staff at Joker was more than helpful and I finally got the call from Geoff. "Come on out and we can bolt on the parts right here. I've even found a guy around the corner at Greased Lightening who will make up the brake lines. ...

That afternoon, I finished the weekly update and jammed for the tilting garage. Nuutboy had already broken under the extreme pressure and hauled ass for foreign shores. Wrench checked into rehab for the 24th time. He had been awake for three weeks and was beginning to look like the guy from the "Living Dead." Japanese Jay threw up his hands, jumped on the bike from the Harley fleet center, and hauled ass for the border. Renegade bitched and moaned, but under his breath, after smoking several joints, said, "Nice bike." We knew then I was good to go. I dialed Giggie in a frenzy, "Could I have knocked the clutch hub loose?" "Don't sweat it," he said, "It's tight, but ...

The next morning, after breakfast at Stan's diner in Scottsdale, we rolled north toward Payson on our way to Holbrook. Stan's is a small joint in a dull rectangular building downtown, that Stan tried to spruce up with adobe chairs and tables. A skinny waitress came to take our order but since this was Myron's regular digs, he went directly to the chef in back and nodded. That was enough. The chef knew what to do. Karl and I attempted to order with smiles on our unshaven mugs but the waitress was dry as toast, and edgy. The cactus twig of a woman could not comply. We had been trying the low carb regimen and Karl had lost 40 pounds, ...

The next morning, Myron and I got our asses in gear and loaded our scoots. Karl and Cheri were returning to Phoenix the long way through the mountains and Flag before getting home. We said our goodbyes and headed out. It was odd, or maybe not, that Myron and I were travelin' without maps this year. We remembered the time we rode into Colorado by mistake and Mark the Warrior was mapped to the max. This was going to be an odd trip without a map. Sorta like sailing to Hawaii without a compass. We were flying by the seat of our pants. I babied the Blue Flame onto I-40 and tested it with my left glove. Not an ounce ...

  The Harley shop in Green River didn't have it, nor did any of the other bike shops in the valley, but there was a shop in Aspen. It wasn't in the phone book and couldn't be reached by directory assistance. I called the Harley shop back and was given the number for Aspen Custom Motorcycles. I dialed and there was only an answering machine. Tired and dejected, we rambled back toward town. During one of our last installation attempts, we broke off the stud that held the rear tab in place. Now we needed an auto parts store for a large hose clamp and some rubber insulation to prevent the clamp from tearing through the durable powder coating finish. ...

That last 25 miles were the worst of the trip. It rained off and on as the traffic became thick as mud on your boots. Lane splitting is not allowed and when we attempted to play ignorant travelers, motorists tried to hit us. As the sun broke over the parking lot of cars, the humidity rose with the mercury. Of course we got lost at one point, found the Two-Wheelers shop and ultimately the hotel. There was a major party planned for the 25th anniversary of the shop, but the threat of rain and the 450- mile trip to Sturgis the next morning forced us to take it easy and hit the hay early. We tried a local restaurant for ...