Two Wheeled Tales

I never finished the story about my ride back from Alabama in August. Hell, since then, I made another ride down and back in February. That ride was supposed to include a few days in Daytona for Bike Week and add to my portfolio of beer tub girl pictures, but I can get to my […]

RFR story I rode the FLH to work yesterday & the took the Little Red Rigid today, got paid to hang out with half nekked sexy girls all day then took the hour + extra long ride home from the club tonight (14 miles). Here are a few images from Ike. This is the duck

My brother and I had never ridden motorcycles together before. Ever. We hadn't hung out together for decades. What were we thinking…. We left Northern Illinois on a Saturday in June and stopped for the night in Charleston, West Virginia. My riding partner on this trip was my brother Brent. We had never ridden together

The crew getting together for our weekly “meeting” and Wednesday night ride. This 2010 season is starting to warm up in Southeast Texas, so the guys of Vindicta are gearing up for several events. We try to meet up every Wednesday at a downtown location before heading out for a ride, dinner, another ride, and

This was a trip I planned for years, and this year, it looked as though it was finally gonna happen. We recently moved to a new town, and the wife received time off, so I could fly her south into Mexico, and I was going to ride, and meet her. No big deal, right? She

I think I left you with visions of Allison from the story about the ride out to Oklahoma, so I'll start with a shot of her now as a show of good will.We spent the weekend in Oklahoma celebrating the in-laws 50th anniversary. My oldest son and his girlfriend were able to drive up from

Gotta find the best Combo in the South!I was sitting in the airport in Detroit waiting to catch my flight back to northern Virginia and my attention was on The Weather Channel. It had nothing to do with weather in Detroit or Washington, DC. My focus was on tropical storm Fay. I was planning to

Our bikes in the pits CY Race Diary 2010,WERA Talladega, 6 Feb: Good gawd its cold! Went to bed Friday nite gulping the Nyquil bottle, sick as a dog. Alarm went off at 5:00 a.m., I hacked up a lung, threw some water on my face, and looked at myself in the morror….I scared myself….until

We’ve all been there. It happens at rest areas, hotels, restaurants and everywhere in between. I’m at a gas station in Nevada this time. It’s so hot my leathers are melting like a popsicle meeting a blast furnace. I do the usual, fumble to find the key to the Ultra’s gas cap, look around the

Things happen in the past that always come back to haunt you at some point, some good and some bad. Roebling Road Raceway in Savannah, Georgia is one of those. My first time at the track in 1990 was on a brand new Yamaha FZR400 with a freshly earned expert license. Eager to get the

Campboy hasn’t been the same since our cross-country ride in ’97. In fact, I haven’t been quite the same, either. But Campboy is much worse than I am . . . at least in my opinion. Campboy started a bike project following Laughlin this year that he thought would solve his problems, at least with

If you're moving out of California, the first location pick usually isn't Utah, but it was mine. After almost 25 years, I'm still glad I did. As far as I can tell, Utah is not a hot bed for motorcycle activity, except for the FIM Super Bike series which is here this weekend. (It just

There were too many boxes to pack on the bike so Sullivan hauled his kids' Christmas gifts to the UPS office in his boss's van. A worn out but sympathetic clerk took his money, reminding him that the holiday was only two days off and there was no way the kids would get the presents

It was a small house, even had a chimney, cost me $35. I wanted to kick it's resident's ass. Bruno, the name sure sounds tough, but any wimp could have him running for cover. That's my German shepherd pet, and he was in his single room home hiding his face in his fairly strong paws.

“If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him.”–Voltaire (1694 – 1778)When I first took to the road, I only desired to experience firsthand what was known exclusively to the earliest of worldly explorers. Discovering not just a new place, but living a new life, a new culture, a new fuck under

The smell of Wild Turkey mixed with the spicy boiling Top Ramen scent on Iron Buffalo’s single apartment stove. A loner, he worked for Custom Chrome, lifted weights and tinkered with his only major possession: a hot rod chopper. He sipped the drink as he stirred the vegetables and steak-chunks and thought about his recent

“Okay, beam me up Scotty.” Tinker put down the phone and stepped into the pentagram.Eight hours behind and nearly five thousand miles away in Vancouver, Henry flicked aside long grey hair, wiped his granny glasses, and checked an identical ‘gram on the floor for the umpteenth time. He returned the detailed instructions to the envelope

The teardrop tank was full. So was my wallet. My coal black chopper burned rubber and blended into the asphalt stretching below me and the dark sky above. The milestones popped out every other minute and so did stars from behind clouds. Sturgis conquered I was off to see Sofie at the town beyond the

As he headed home in the small hours with the baffles closed on Poke’s open duals and Bonzo snoring snug as a dormouse inside his jacket, Tinker heard the screams. He traced them to a bus stop where a trail of spilt handbag crap led to the darkened mouth of an alley.Coasting up, his headlight

“Some geezer wanting to unload an old Indian,” the snout had said over his free beer. “Got the address right here if you see me right.”That had lured Tinker into one of those concrete concentration camps laughingly called ‘estates’. Nobody with any sense went there, nobody with any choice. Dumps for the chumps and gutters

The cemetery, the morning we brought poor dead Mokes to it, was quiet. Very quiet. The Spring sun in the blue sky was quiet. The air was quiet. The birds were quiet. And the small group of mourners standing over by a gravesite in silent prayer, they were quiet too. We approached the group with

Tinker saw a bike stalled at the side of the country road and pulled over. It’s what you do, hurry or no.“You okay?’ The question was superfluous. A gormless spottie stood irresolutely beside his neglected-looking Japanese one-lunger. “Crapped out on me, didn’t it. Now the pig won’t even start.” Spots lit another fag; there were

Tinker stood in the tiny cubicle and relaxed. His reflection finally appeared in the mirror and he combed the tangles out of his silvered black hair , tying it back in an inconspicuous queue. His full beard had been trimmed, even worn a clean shirt and tie. Quick check of the wrist watch, deep breath–Show