Suicide is Painful
By Bandit | | General Posts
He heard it before he saw it. The unmistakable rumble of a Harley-Davidson turning onto the secluded Beverly Hills street. Moments later the guard picked-up the biker on the security system as he broke the infra-red beam that crossed the front gates. A quick glance at the gate camera confirmed the presence of a tough looking character in a leather vest on a large black motorcycle, just sitting waiting at the closed gates. With dark glasses but no helmet the biker looked straight into the camera without smiling. The guard immediately hit the button that opened the front gate without even requesting his identity over the intercom. He had never seen the stranger before but there was no mistaking this visitor — or at least that’s what he thought.
 | The biker knew he was being watched, but did not feel uncomfortable. Before he could even slip the big bike into neutral, the ten foot high iron gates slid open on well oiled tracks. He slipped the shifter straight into first, gunned the big V once and then accelerated up the long driveway that was lined with white Grecian statues, rose bushes and carefully trimmed trees. The top of the drive opened into a large court-yard in front of a huge mansion. Without backing off the throttle, the biker shot across the imported Italian paving stones and parked next to a line-up of two Mercedes, a Range Rover, a red Pantera and a convertible Rolls Royce. |
The guard pulled on a dark windbreaker, checked that his gun was secure in its holster, grabbed a Motorola radio and went out to meet the new arrival. The guard, drawing comfort from the high capacity nine millimeter on his hip, stepped out of the guard shack and into the courtyard, but at the first site of the big biker sitting on the even bigger bike, a chill ran down his spine. Could he have made a mistake? Could this actually be the very threat that he was being paid to keep out? At worst this could get real nasty, and at best he may have just lost his job.
Coop – born Michael Cooper – sat on the love of his life, a bored and stroked ’55 Panhead with high bars and a custom paint job, watching the guard approach. He watched the way the guard squinted into the bright sun and nervously kept his hand close to where his gun was probably holstered under his coat. He noted how the guard carried his radio in his right hand. He also noted the light colored slacks and shiny Italian loafers that the guard wore.
“Mr Coop…arh, Mr Cooper?” the guard stammered.
“If I’m not you just fucked up royally,” Coop responded without getting off of the bike. This did not help the guard’s already nervous disposition.
“Ah, Charlie, said to expect you. He described you pretty well,” the guard answered defensively.
“What did he say? Expect a guy on a bike? That really narrows it down don’t it?”
The guard became more agitated, “Can…can I see some ID, please?”
“About time. You should have done that at the gate,” Coop explained patiently, as if talking to a child.
Coop pulled out a business card and handed it to the guard. The guard looked at it and breathed a sigh of relief. “Billy Larkin, I work for, Charlie, and I guess you now. It’s a pleasure to be working with you Mr Cooper. Sorry about this. First day, you know how it is,” the guard babbled.
“And your last if it happens again,” Coop scolded. “Now, when you come to work tomorrow, dark clothing and rubber soled shoes. Those slacks would make you too visible at night and those leather-soled brothel sneakers wouldn’t be worth shit if you have to move fast.”
“Er…thank you, Mr Cooper, I’ll take care of it before my next shift. Anything else?” the guard asked.
“Yea, if you are right handed, carry your radio or flashlight in your left. That leaves your gun hand free. Make sense?”
“Yes, sir. Got it,” the guard responded humbly.
“And when you step out of the guard shack into bright sunlight, put on your shades or wear a ball cap. You were all but blinded coming out weren’t you?” Coop continued to lecture.
“Got it. Shades or ball cap,” was all the guard could answer.
“So where is Charlie? He knows better than to turn an unsupervised FNG loose on a job like this,” Coop pressed.
“FNG?” the guard asked looking puzzled.
“Fuck’n New Guy. No offense,” Coop added smiling. The guard also smiled at the humor.
“Charlie went to breakfast this morning with Tiffany, Mrs Austin’s assistant. She came back at ten but I haven’t seen Charlie since eight,” the guard supplied helpfully – happy to be away from the subject of his own inadequacies.
“Fuck! Won’t Charlie ever learn. Okay, give me your radio and go back to the guard shack. I’m just going to check the safe rooms in the house and test the panic buttons. Use the base-station radio to let me know if the panic buttons are activating on the control panel.”
Coop then got off his bike and walked into the house, still shaking his head at Charlie’s stupidity.
For several years, Michael Cooper had been a senior Special Agent with the U.S. Diplomatic Security Service, that was until the unending bullshit and bureaucracy forced him to tell his supervisors where to shove their job.
Two weeks before, Coop had returned home from a three day ride to Tombstone to find his answering machine had thirty odd messages on it, but only one caught Coop’s attention. It was a request to handle security for a big wheel movie producer, Derek Austin, who had had a serious death threat. This was just the type of short term contract that Coop liked, and would give him the cash to not only finish the drag bike he had been building in his garage, but also enough extra to take a few weeks off to ride back to Sturgis with Bandit and Hammer.
Coop had a passion for two things, building bikes and taking long cross-country rides – preferably without a helmet. But to pay the bills he would work as a bodyguard. Not the typical Hollywood “baby-sitter to the stars” type bodyguard, but as a respected protection specialist. Coop had earned a reputation as a total professional and someone who could be counted on to take care of business – even if his appearance came as a shock to some of his more gentile clients.
For several years, Michael Cooper had been a senior Special Agent with the U.S. Diplomatic Security Service, that was until the unending bullshit and bureaucracy forced him to tell his supervisors where to shove their job. The friction had begun as a direct result of Coop’s preferred lifestyle choice, that of being a biker, which was not at all appreciated by his conservative, promotion hungry supervisors. Coop was constantly in violation of the Service’s strict grooming standards and was only really happy when protecting diplomats in some semi-third world shit-hole where grooming was not even a close second to experience, tactical awareness and shooting ability.
In the real world of operations, Coop was not only respected by his peers, he was constantly being requested for “hazardous duty” by senior diplomats and congressmen on overseas junkets. It was on this experience and reputation, and a few contacts in high office, that Coop had built his little business of handling medium to high risk private security contracts.
After a few calls to Austin’s office, a faxed contract and a wire transfer of funds, Coop began assembling a team for the job. He would handle the travel and movement of the principal with his own team of ex-shooters and looters from various military special operations groups, but he needed a supervisor for the static guard work and the more routine domestic security tasks that went along with the assignment. For this, Coop brought in a reputable guard service run by Charlie Bates, an ex-LAPD motor officer and patrol sergeant, with whom Coop shared a love of American Iron. They had worked together before and Coop found him to be a total professional. Well, up until this time.
Within a few days, Charlie had become a target for Mrs Austin’s personal assistant – a horny little wench named Tiffany. Tiffany was five foot four inches of total trouble. She was twenty-four with platinum blond hair, big breasts and favored clothing that was either too short, too tight, low cut, revealing or all of the above. The fact that Charlie was married, didn’t seem to bother her, in fact it only made him more of a challenge.
Coop had pegged her as a walking minefield on the first day when she had intentionally brushed her ample breasts against his arm as she passed him in the office. He had also noticed how she looked at the crotch in his Levi’s, the same way that a heroin addict looked at a loaded needle, so made a mental note right then to steer clear of this nymph – well at least until after the contract was over. Then he may sport-fuck her just for the hell of it.
But for poor Charlie, Tiffany represented everything his wife was not – young, shapely, horny and interested in his body -mostly from the belt down. But, as with most middle aged men, his ego clouded his thinking so he didn’t realize that at the time.
In just two weeks, Charlie had gotten himself so hooked on this bitch that he considered leaving his wife and family, and was now making some bad judgement calls. This was more than Coop needed, especially when it was his contract and reputation on the line.
As Coop entered the mansion and walked passed Tiffany’s office he heard the phone ring, and then a few seconds later a gasp and the phone drop onto the desk. He stepped in to find Tiffany, sitting at her desk wearing a tight white blouse open two buttons more than needed, with a shocked look on her face staring at the phone like it was a poisonous snake.
“What’s up?” Coop asked.
Tiffany pointed at the phone and said, “Its Charlie. He said he was gonna shoot himself and he wanted me to listen.”
Coop snatched up the phone, “Charlie, its me Coop, are you still there?”
“Fuck you Coop, put that bitch back on the phone,” Charlie’s voice came clearly across the line. Coop could tell that Charlie was mad and that he had been drinking.
“Listen buddy, I don’t know what’s going on so talk to me,” Coop said calmly.
“Fuck you and fuck her, I’m ending it all right here,” Charlie screamed and slammed down the phone.
Coop turned to Tiffany and demanded, “What the fuck is going on?”
“Charlie just got too serious so I told him this morning I didn’t want to see him any more. He didn’t take it too well and started drinking really heavily, so I split. That’s all. Honest,” she blurted, but recovering her composure.
“Well no shit. You only played him like an old violin for the past two weeks. What do you expect? Where is he now?”
“He’s at my apartment. He was depressed at first so I gave him some anti-depressants. But then he hit the Tequila and began waving his gun around, so I came back here,” she added meekly.
Once Coop hit Sunset Boulevard he really poured it on, slipping traffic and running lights.
“You left him alone with downers, alcohol and a gun, and just came back to work. You are something else lady. Give me your keys, now.” Coop grabbed her keys off of the desk and as he ran to his bike, shouted back, “Call 911 and get the paramedics to your place, now.”
In one kick he had the pan fired up and was blasting across the court-yard. The guard had seen Coop sprint for his bike so the gates were already open by the time Coop hit the bottom of the drive and slid through the turn sideways.
Once Coop hit Sunset Boulevard he really poured it on, slipping traffic and running lights. He already knew Tiffany’s address from the security back-ground checks that they had run on everyone, so his only concern was to get there before Charlie blew his brains all over the wall paper.
Ten minutes later and more than a few irate drivers, Coop braked to a rubber burning stop in the driveway to Tiffany’s Brentwood apartment building. Her keys got him through the security gate, up on to second level and through the door in less than a minute.
Coop took a deep breath and slowed as he went through the door. He didn’t know what he was running into. He heard nothing and as his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside he saw that the living room and kitchen were a shambles, furniture broken, lamps overturned and books and cassettes all over the floor.
When he entered the bedroom he was immediately hit by the foul odor of human sweat and urine. Charlie was face up, pale and lifeless on the bed wearing nothing but a soiled T shirt. He had a gun in one hand, both wrists were bleeding, there were red pills all over the bed and a couple of empty liquor bottles on the floor. There was broken glass and furniture everywhere.
Coop first checked Charlie’s pulse at the carotid artery on his neck and when he found a faint pulse, removed the small Beretta .25 automatic from his hand. Just then he heard the paramedics coming through the door. With them were two patrol officers from LAPD’s West LA division and at the sight of the “big, bad biker” standing over the dead guy things became quite tense.
After a few gut wrenching seconds, and some fast talking by Coop, the cops relaxed and things became all business. While the paramedics bandaged the still unconscious Charlie’s wrists, took samples of the pills for toxicology and loaded him onto a stretcher, the cops took a statement from Coop. They then gave him their business cards, complete with home numbers, in case he needed any more part-timers for future security gigs.
The next day, Coop dropped by the hospital to check on Charlie and found him sitting up in bed looking a whole lot better than the day before.
“Charlie my man, welcome back from the dark side,” Coop chuckled.
“I guess I have a lot to thank you for Coop. Sorry I fucked up. I didn’t….” Charlie began sheepishly, but Coop cut him off.
“Hey, no explanations. We have all been put through the wringer by women at some time in our pathetic little lives – it was just your time old cock,” Coop said, keeping the mood light. “So what happened?” Coop asked pointing at the bandages on Charlie’s wrists.
“Drinking myself to death wasn’t working so I tried to cut my wrists, but even with the drugs and booze, the blunt old Buck knife I used just hurt too much. So I decided to explore other methods. That’s when I got out my back-up gun and called Tiffany. I was determined to shoot myself but then those damn prescription downers of hers kicked in and I woke up here with a hose down my throat and another on up my dick having my stomach pumped.”
“Look at it this way Charlie…you are supposed to be a highly trained killer who knows weapons and is ready to protect my clients. But you couldn’t even shoot yourself.”
“You got this suicide shit out of your system now?” Coop asked.
“Yea. I talked to the wife and kids this morning and all is forgiven. I am gonna be paying “honey dues” for a while but there is light at the end of the tunnel. They took the restraints off an hour ago and said I could probably go home in forty-eight hours.”
“That’s great. Wish I could get that Tiffany bitch canned for you, but unfortunately, Mrs Austin thinks she is great,” Coop confided. With that, Coop reached out and patted Charlie on the shoulder and said, “For now, I got’a go but I’ll stop by tomorrow and see how you are doing. Hang tough.” With that Coop turned and headed for the door. Charlie called after him.
“Listen Coop, I’m sorry I let you down and I know you have to cut me loose. It was all very unprofessional on my part.”
Coop stopped in the doorway. “Hey, Charlie, I ain’t letting you go for being unprofessional. That cunt had you all twisted up inside. I am firing you for Incompetency.” Coop grinned and Charlie looked puzzled.
“Look at it this way Charlie. I know you keep a 12 gauge pump loaded with buckshot in your car, you pack a Colt Government .45 on duty and you have a little .25 Wop gun as a back-up – and with all that firepower you picked the .25 auto. Hell, you are supposed to be a highly trained killer who knows weapons and is ready to protect my clients. But you couldn’t even shoot yourself. Shit, if you can’t pick the right gun for the job and hit a target the size of your own fat melon from point blank range, what chance have you in a gunfight with real bad guys? That’s why I got to let you go, Charlie.”
Charlie sat there in shock listening to Coop’s footsteps echo down the hospital corridor.
As Coop left the hospital he was thinking about Tiffany and the shitty way she had manipulated Charlie, but he had to admit she had a body built for pleasure. Getting his mind back above his belt buckle Coop realized that the sun had set hours ago and it was time for a beer. After making one quick phone call to the estate, Coop was on his bike and moving, but instead of making straight for the Baja Cantina where he usually hooked up with Bandit, Doc and Grady on a Friday night, he headed for Bar One over on Sunset where the Beverly Hills wanna bees went to see and be seen. Considering the mood he was in, he thought the hunting would be better there.
Ignoring the parking attendants and muscle-bound doorman, Coop parked the Pan right in front of the club and walked in like he owned the place. The expensively decorated club was fast filling with the beautiful people – LA’s sporty young, and many not so young, jetset types, all dropping names and trying to one-up one another. Although the bar area itself was quite crowded, the expensive suits and tight dresses parted like the Red Sea did for Moses as Coop’s six foot three, two hundred and forty pound frame headed straight for the bar. The rich and pampered didn’t know quite what to make of the “big, bad biker” who towered over them.
As Coop ordered a shot of 1800 and two beers he saw Tiffany, breasts bulging from a tight little black number, propped on a bar stool at the other end of the bar holding court with a group of hopeful admirers, all vying for her attention.
The hunt was on. After shooting the Tequila and downing the first beer, Coop headed in her direction.
When Tiffany saw Coop approaching, she was at first surprised seeing him in this bar and then felt nervous, not quite knowing how to greet him. Coop walked right into the middle of her little pack of yuppies, totally ignoring them and immediately dominating Tiffany’s attention. She actually felt a little shudder run through her body as she realized just how poorly her little group of men-friends stacked up against Coop’s raw power and presence. The others just became part of the bar’s background noise.
” ‘Evening Tiffany. Shame about Charlie – and hey, I’m sorry about being a little hard on you earlier….”, Coop began.
When she heard the softer tone in Coop’s voice she began to relax. “Oh, that’s forgotten — is he okay?” she asked but didn’t seem sincerely concerned. In fact she was more interested in the sudden interest the other blood-sucking women in the bar were paying to Coop. She liked the fact that other women found him attractive and that the men were intimidated, but more importantly, he was talking to her.
“Never the less, I still feel bad about it and I am sorry for interrupting you and your friends. I need to get going anyhow…” Coop added as he finished his second beer.
“No, don’t go, let me buy you a drink,” Tiffany insisted as she gently squeezed his arm. Coop liked the feel of that.
“I would like that, but not right now. Its been a long day but I still need to swing by the Austin Estate to drop off some papers,” Coop begged off.
“Oh,” Tiffany pouted like a spoilt little girl who someone had just said ‘No!’ to.
“But if you want we could get a bite to eat afterwards,” Coop added in a conciliatory manner. This perked her up. “In fact, it will only take a minute, and since you aren’t dressed for riding, if you give me a lift up there in your car, we can go straight from there.”
Tiffany was not going to let this big brute get away so easily, so in one smooth movement, she grabbed her purse, was off the bar stool and they were heading for the door without even acknowledging “her friends”.
As they left the club Coop checked that the lock on his bike was secure, slipped the valet parker ten dollars and told him to keep an eye it. However, fear of what Coop may do to him was more incentive to watch the bike than the ten dollars for the small attendant.
Tiffany gave Coop the keys to her car and let him drive. She also used every opportunity in their conversation to touch his arm or leg as they drove west on Sunset towards Beverly Hills. There was no doubt in Coop’s mind that she was an affectionate little beasty, and one horny woman to boot. The estate was within a few miles of the club, and since Tiffany had an automatic gate opener, within minutes they were pulling up in front of the main house.
Exiting the car and pulling a folded envelope from inside his jacket, Coop said, “Listen, the Austins are away for the weekend so I should really put these in the safe in the master bedroom for safe keeping, but I don’t have the combination with me. Do you know it?”
…he ran his large hands up under her dress — and to no surprise, found no underwear.
Just trying to be helpful, Tiffany said, “Sure, follow me,” as she leapt from the car.
Once in the huge, ornately decorated, but dimly light master bedroom Tiffany headed for the back of one of the walk-in closets, found the safe, quickly spun the dials on the safe and popped it open. Coop reached out to place the papers in the safe and again, in the confines of the closet, his arm brushed her ample young breasts. Tiffany all but cooed at the sensual contact. She reached up with her long fingers, wrapped them around the back of Coop’s neck, pulled his face down to hers and devoured him in one long passionate, hungry kiss.
When she finally came up for air she asked, “You sure they are gone for the weekend?”
“Positive!” was Coops only response as he ran his large hands up under her dress — and to no surprise, found no underwear. Tiffany shuddered with pleasure and immediately began squeezing her own breasts with one and his crotch with the other.
Getting into the swing of things, Coop peeled the dress off over her head faster than most men could peel a banana, and then gently lowered her to the thick, soft carpet on the closet floor. Still fully dressed and not wanting to rush, Coop knelt between her legs and, taking her hands, slow guided them over her own body. With a wicked little smile, she caught on quickly and began playing with herself as Coop just knelt there assisting where ever it pleased him.
As her fingers slid down between her spread legs, over her own neatly shaved pussy and then inside, exploring, her eyes rolled back and she abandoned herself to her own personal heaven.
Tiffany knew that she did not come fast, but she did come strong — and she knew exactly how to get the most out of her masturbation. As she entered her own little world of naked men, big cocks and soon-to-be Coop’s hard body, she knew that she would also be arousing Coop — and that could only be better for her, very soon.
Tiffany began to moan and twist on the expensive carpet as she approached her first orgasm, but just as she began to climax a man’s voice brought her back to earth. But something was wrong –it was not Coop’s voice. Then there was a woman’s scream. Tiffany snapped her eyes open to find Mr and Mrs Austin dressed in formal evening wear looking down at her, totally aghast at the spectacle they were witnessing. Tiffany was naked in Mr Austin’ closet, masturbating and with the safe wide open.
“I can explain…. Aren’t you supposed to be away for the weekend? I am with Michael, you know, Coop,” Tiffany stammered as she scrambled to find her dress, which she could not find.
As Mrs Austin headed straight for the mini-bar in the bedroom, Mr Austin, still looking at Tiffany’s wet pussy, exposed for the world to see, regained his composure, and said, “Coop’s not here, and he knows that we were at the ballet this evening. He set up the security detail earlier. Now would you kindly get some clothes on young lady!”
When the shock had passed, Mrs Austin had had a drink and Tiffany had slipped into one of Mr Austin’s jackets, she continued trying to explain that she really was there with Coop. But the Austins were having none of her story, and when Mr Austin called down to security, the guard reported that only Ms Tiffany had come on property that evening and that Mr Cooper had not been there since early the previous afternoon.
Down in the guard room Coop winked to the duty guard and then slipped across the darkened property and out over the fence undetected. It would only be a short jog back to his bike.
Mrs Austin now launched into Tiffany, “You are fired,” and then turning to Mr Austin she said, “Derek, have the guards escort this little tramp from the property,” then turning back to Tiffany, “and there will be no work reference for you. In fact I will personally see to it that you don’t work in this town again!”
As Tiffany left crying, being escorted by a smiling guard, Mrs Austin realized that she had actually enjoyed the little show that she had just witnessed. She had never seen a woman masturbating before. Mr Austin would get lucky tonight.
– Hammer
Two-Wheeled Love -Part two
By Sam Burns | | General Posts
… they jumped in the cab of Bobby’s pickup, and peeled out of the lot and onto the coast highway, heading south. There was only one road to travel from town to town in the redwood region. The winding Pacific Coast Highway skirted along the sheer precipices high above the jagged, coastal landscape. Below, the pounding waves battered sharp, rugged rocks.
Charlie was wound up to begin with, and his emotions were anything but calmed by the weaving highway as he leaned into one hairpin curve after another. Downshifting and twisting his quick throttle, he felt his rear tire slip against the fog-moistened pavement.
The Shovelhead bounced on the rigid frame that had always felt like home to Charlie. He liked being alone on the bike. It brought a sort of racing solitude, away from the whining pedestrians, and free from the constraints of society. The experience provided him his own singular sense of adventure. Women had always been a by-product of living fast and passionately. He enjoyed their company, their sex, and their looks, but the rest he could do without. Sometimes he wondered if he was wrong, or simply living like a man should. As the bike leaned into another curve, he savored the smell of the salt air and the sound of the surf crashing beneath him.
The big Chevy pickup barreled along the highway at breakneck speeds. “Whataya going to do to the guy?” the smaller cowboy with the broken nose and scarred face said.
“I hate bikers – they have way too much fun, ridin’ their choppers around!” Bobby shouted, staring out of the windshield like a hunter trying to spot his prey’s eyes in the darkness. “You saw how upset she was. I can’t stand seeing any guy hurt a girl.” The truck’s tires squealed going from one hazardous, tight curve to another. “He can’t be far.”
Charlie slowed as the fog shifted from a mist to pea soup, limiting his visibility from half a mile to less than a hundred feet. The fenderless front wheel sent a fine spray directly over his handlebars into his face. His tinted glasses dripped with moisture, which he occasionally wiped away with the back of his sleeve. As the fog became more dense, the bike’s headlight and taillight reflected against the moisture lingering in the quiet air. Charlie felt like he was in a plane flying through a cloud. Nothing existed around him but a few feet of road, the broken white line, and a gray blanket, all illuminated by the headlights of the bike. The road seemed to go nowhere, and there was no sense of direction. Each curve was a surprise, without prior warning.
The cowboys plowed onward through the fog with little concern. Bobby flipped on the windshield wipers and turned on the amber fog lamps. “That boy will be slowing down in this,” he said, a slight smirk lifting beneath his thick mustache.
Bobby’s grip tightened on the wheel. The other cowboy continued to gulp from the stainless steel flask in his jacket, continuing to share with Bobby. The large truck tires slid against the slick asphalt and the warning light flashed against the guardrail erected to posed to stop drivers from certain death 300 feet below.
Bobby disliked bikers. The lumbering construction worker had twice attempted to become a foreman on construction sites. But he could never control the bikers. They were independent-minded, straightforward, hard-hitting, and talented. They wouldn’t take no for an answer, and often knew more about the job than Bobby. Moreover, unlike many of the fools on the job site, Bobby’s size didn’t intimidate them. Bobby felt enormously frustrated. He could feel his hands squeeze the steering wheel even harder, and his jaw tightened.
“What’s the matter, man?” Sam asked, noting Bobby’s rigid, white-knuckled grip on the dirty, grease-caked wheel.
“Nothing,” Bobby snapped, remembering a couple of bikers who had working for him before dropping everything and leaving the construction site so that they could ride to South Dakota in August. It pissed him off that they put their motorcycles and lifestyle ahead of work. “I’m gonna get that bastard,” he growled.
Charlie was only half way to Franklin when he wished he had just dropped a dime to his brother Norman to ease the big man’s mind, instead of swimming through this treacherous fog to tell him that the bitch he’d been with was only pulling another female number.
Charlie had had his share of girls who tried to lure him into one trap after another. He had been fortunate that none of them had laid the baby routine on him. A tough spot to be in, for sure. This one wasn’t right, especially for Norman, because Charlie knew how Stormin’ felt about kids. If the woman had been up front, Norman would have assisted her any way he could. Charlie sucked the fog out of his mustache and swallowed, wrenching the handlebars to make another tight curve that seemed to leap out of nowhere. The fog was getting so thick that there was no way for Charlie to spot landmarks on the familiar road. Then he noticed a change in his wa.
Wa is an ancient Japanese term for someone’s personal atmosphere or environment. Like someone turning on a radio in a garage, immediately the atmosphere can change. This may be a subtle thing, like enjoying dinner in a restaurant when, several booths away, someone starts to argue. Charlie wasn’t sure what it was, or where it was coming from, but he knew there had definitely been a change, as if his engine altered its tone. Then it happened again, and he knew what had interrupted his thoughts. The limited light had changed intensity. And although Charlie couldn’t see the headlights, his senses had noted the altered level of fog-coated illumination at the last curve. It happened a third time. A car had to be only a couple of curves behind.
The small cowboy slugging down the shots of whiskey from the flask spotted the small single taillight from Charlie’s bike first. “Thought I saw something out there,” he slurred.
“You’re right. I’m gonna catch him,” the big man said, grinding his teeth and bearing down on the steering wheel. “I’ll teach that sonovabitch how to treat women.”
The little man took a deep slug on the flask and offered it to the driver, who declined with a snap of his wrist. Sam had accompanied Bobby on several violent forays, and he knew from the dilated pupils, the beads of sweat on his forehead, and the twitching muscles in his jaws that his running partner meant business. The truck lurched as the big man accelerated, tearing the tires loose on the next curve.
Charlie, now constantly aware of the approaching vehicle, grabbed the rubber grips on his bars tighter as he rounded the next curve. The fog was too thick to search for side roads to duck away on. But then, briefly passing through his vision, he noted a familiar sign announcing the mileage to the towns ahead.
Charlie was thoroughly familiar with the post, as he had read its reassuring message for years, informing him that Franklin was 8 miles away. He sighed with the confidence that he hadn’t far to go, and that the final four miles were relatively straight and far enough inland to remove the fear of slipping off a cliff. Nevertheless, the next four miles were the most treacherous, jack-knife curves of the ride. Just then, the headlights from the following vehicle surrounded him from the rear, and he heard the tires screeching as the truck rounded the curve.
Charlie did his best to pull to the side of the road to let the vehicle pass. But it loomed up behind him, attempted to pass, then cut deeply to the right. Charlie leaned to the right, but the truck’s fender swung closer. Aware that the driver was either drunk or trying to kill him, he accelerated, his rear wheel slipping into the gravel shoulder, two or three feet from a hundred-yard drop to certain doom. He broke into a cold sweat under his heavy jacket as he brushed with death, before hearing his engine come to life and pull him away from the edge of the cliff.
The truck kept coming…
Charlie could feel the cold sweat return as the speeding vehicle attempted to force him into the guardrail on the next curve. His extended right footpeg clipped the post and snapped free from under his boot. He turned to the left and found himself breathing against the rusted fender of the pickup truck. He twisted the throttle while jamming his right foot against the mounting plate holding the brake pedal in place. The peg was gone and his foot slipped free from the side of the bike, bouncing against the gray deck below. He lurched again, trying to maintain his balance and avoid being crushed by the truck. It seemed a losing battle as the curves tightened and became more frequent.
“This is going to be a breeze,” Bobby squealed. “I’ll mash that sonovabitch.”
Sam looked for something to hold onto as his body slammed into the cab door and the truck slid to the left around another hairpin corner. The heavy rear bumper screeched against the guardrail post, throwing sparks to the sea below.
The road straightened momentarily. Charlie was well aware of the backcut curve less than 50 yards ahead. He sped into the fog, knowing full well that death was simultaneously both ahead and behind him. He was terrified, yet at the same time, a glint of a smile crossed his bearded face. He though momentarily about the many times he had danced with death on this highways and many others. But this time the issue was forced. The road ahead turned slightly to the left, then hard right, then a 180 to the left again. It was the worst set of curves on the stretch of scenic highway.
The truck peeled away from the guardrail and sped after Charlie. As Charlie reached the first curve, he shut off his lights, reducing visibility almost to zero. He down-shifted and strained to see the white line he was leaning away from. Then, practicing counter-steering, he yanked the bars in the other direction. He felt the bike jerk and begin to break loose against the wet asphalt. He could detect the headlights of the truck entering the first curve.
“Hey, did we lose him?” Sam shouted, as the truck entered the first leg of the series of curves.
In his zeal to catch the swerving biker, Bobby took the lack of taillight as a challenge, accelerating even more before reaching the curves. “There’s nowhere for that sonovabitch to go except to hell,” he shouted, spinning the steering wheel to navigate the first curve. He thought he saw a glint of chrome at the bottom of the curve, and quickly flashed his high beams on and off.
“I can’t see shit,” Sam shouted as they entered the hairpin right.
Charlie gunned his bike in the darkness, emerging from the first 180 before heading across the white line to the inland side of the road. His front wheel, barely visible in the fog fell into the ditch along side a cowcatcher and bounced in and out of the small creek that followed the highway. Charlie left the seat as the front end collapsed and extended, leading him directly into the side of the mountain.
“Turn off the high beams!” Sam yelled at the top of his lungs as the truck careened around the tight right.
“Where is that sonovabitch?” Bobby shouted, slamming into his door and flailing at the steering wheel for control. The truck’s light blinked at the hillside, then back at the guardrail. The windshield was wet with fog and the truck began to slide.
Bobby tried to focus on his surroundings, but the truck was moving faster, spinning. In the fog, he couldn’t tell what direction he was headed. His anger spurred him to thrust his foot against the gas pedal while continuing to turn the steering wheel in the wrong direction. Then the rear bumper caught something on the seaside of the road, and the violent screech of metal tore through the night. For a moment, Bobby could see hillside, but then his headlights revealed only fog, then asphalt, guardrail.
The truck slammed into the corrugated, galvanized metal. For a split second, Bobby was relieved to see the steel barrier, but then the vehicle lifted against the short railing and leaned.
“Oh, my god!” Sam cried out, as his truck door began to crash in against him. The Chevy wasn’t stopping, but instead was rolling over the railing. “Do something!” he shouted as the vehicle lifted the railing, tearing into the entire side of the truck.
Bobby slammed his foot against the brake pedal as he realized that the wheels were being lifted off the ground, and that he was sliding across the bench seat toward his friend. He tried to hang on to the plastic steering wheel, but the truck was on its side, pivoting on the top of the safety railing.
“Oh god, please!” Bobby implored as the vehicle’s inertia took it over the railing and into a free fall toward the jagged crags below.
The truck exploded against the rocks.
Charlie backed his bike back down the cow path, checked it for damages, and continued into town.
May 27, 2010 Part 2
By Bandit | | General Posts
Continued From Page 1
NEW VICTORY SLIPONS FROM D&D PERFORMANCE ENT.–
D&D 2008-2010 Victory Vision Boss Slip-ons for the ultimate Victory touring motorbike. The slipons increase power and torque. You can install them in less time than it takes to complete your lunch.
The Victory Vision Boss Slip-ons come in midnight black or show-quality chrome. They utilize stock heatshields.
More Good Biker Stuff in Bikernet Studio.
SEMA POWERSPORTS SURVEY–Gart Sutton & Associates (GSA), a leading authority of retail profitability in the powersports industry, recently polled some of its 20-group powersports dealers to get a better picture of what was happening in the powersports industry from the front lines.
Sutton and his team of industry experts will present Powersports Dealer Update Workshops at the 2010 SEMA Show in Las Vegas, November 1?2, at the Renaissance Hotel next to the Las Vegas Convention Center.
GSA’s poll revealed the following:
1. Dealer failures have been at a record high level for two years. Since some of these dealers were heavy discounters, this should help surviving dealers in affected regions. Many dealers who were not up on their performance-to-industry benchmarks and didn’t respond quickly to reduce expenses relative to revenue never had a chance.
2. Current motorcycle sales continue to be down; 2008 was off 30%?40% from 2007 and 2009 was considerably off compared to 2008. Many dealers reported that March 2010 business was much better than last year, however.
3. Floor traffic is picking up, dealers are holding better margins, and some banks and credit unions are starting to free up money and “buy deeper” (lower credit scores).
4. Most dealers have reduced old inventory and are no longer “warehouses” for the manufacturers.
5. Parts sales and service work are strong, as customers are repairing rather than replacing their units.
Other positive indicators from March 2010 year-to-date compared with 2009 include:
* Overall store gross profit: up 2%
* Overall net operating profit: up 2.5%
* Personnel and administration expenses as a percentage of GP: down
* Percentage of revenue change: up more than 18% for groups reviewed
* New and pre-owned unit gross profit: up for all products except scooters
* Service labor margin: up 9%?10%
* F&I net operating profit $ PVS: up more than 160%
Current Unit TrendsMidsize street motorcycles and models with rebates are selling to today’s budget-conscious customers. Sport bike sales remain slow but have picked up somewhat. Financing and insurance have been a problem here. These customers tend to be younger and many have poor credit. Off-road bike sales have been slow, except for a few models with high demand and low availability. Scooter sales have suffered as fuel prices remain relatively low.
ATV sales have been soft for the last few years, but are up from last spring. UTV (“side-by-sides”) sales have been doing well. This market has grown due to wholegoods and accessory product expansion and improvements, combined with the need for utility vehicles. Some farmers, for example, are using these as a low-cost alternative to trucks and tractors for certain jobs.
Consumer Trends
Dealers report that today’s consumers tend to be more mature with higher incomes and good credit histories, but take longer to close. They may come in four or more times before making a buying decision. Many have completed considerable web research. They know more about the products and what is on sale on dealer websites.
Marketing Trends
Most dealers report that traditional advertising is not producing. They are finding better results from social marketing, working trade/sports shows and community events.
Other Trends and Opportunities
Dealer Internet sales and using eBay to move obsolete inventory have changed dealership business structures. This profit center will only continue to grow. Social marketing through services such as Twitter, Facebook and YouTube has become more significant to powersports businesses. Dealers must become more creative and Internet-savvy to keep pace with the market.
Due to the reduction in the size of the dealer network, there is a huge opportunity for profitable growth as the economy slowly turns around. Product shortages and reduced competition mean dealers can hold better margins.
There are positive signs that the powersports business is improving. In order to survive the ups and downs of this market, controlling inventory and expenses must remain a priority. Dealers must also pursue a customer-satisfaction business philosophy. It is vital to have the right people in place to maximize every customer opportunity. There?s no reason to have “B” and “C” players on staff when “A” players are out there looking for work.
Keep your team sharp by providing ongoing, high-quality training, including the Powersports Dealer Update Workshops held in conjunction with the 2010 SEMA Show, November 1?2, in Las Vegas. Dealer Update Workshops at the 2010 SEMA Show are open to all powersports dealers. Don’t miss this exceptional opportunity to receive high-level training from industry experts.
Eight powersports dealer-specific education workshops will cover essential P&A, F&I, sales, service and dealership management topics. Registration also includes two industry keynote speaker lunches and a special state-of-the-industry powersports panel you can’t afford to miss.
For more information, visit . www.SEMAShow.com/PowersportsDealerUpdate
Vagabond Chick Likes Harbor Town Seduction?Sir Bandit, Wow! Incredible, that book was so F*%&ing awesome- I cannot thank you enough for sending it, with a wonderful autograph-
I was captivated and had to read it again days after I had finished it. I could not put it down either time even though through the second read, I knew the whole scene. I have read hundreds of books and can honestly say that very few have reached in and grabbed my being that way- It was sensational and I cannot wait for the next one. The characters come to life in a way I understand, and I enjoyed it all immensely.
You truly rock!!!! Give my love to Ms. Nyla, family and crew
All my love & respect,
Athena
Athena ” Chickie ” Ransom
Vagabond Chopper Company
4700 N. Dixie Hwy. Suite 11
Fort Lauderdale, Florida 33334
Phone: (954) 360-0075
Fax: (954) 642-8658
www.vagabondchoppers.com
www.vagabondchickie.com www.chicksruleandboysdrool.com
REPORT FROM COLORADO OR UTAH BIKERNET CORRESPONDENT, WHO KNOWS– The Vincent story I’m working on is about Deckers 4th custom bike. You know, “We take longer and cost more”. Any how, I am meeting with Jeff in a day or two to get more details on the work that has been done. Then article will be sent. Very nice and subtle. Great lines and proportion.
Last Sunday I rode the White Rim Trail in southern Ut. 110 miles on rough, sandy and at times pretty steep jeep trail. Beautiful ride and have good photo’s. That story is almost done. One guy did it on a 600lb BMW 1200 GS. He used to race moto and desert and it showed! Send a photo tonight so you can decide if it fits your format.
–Mark Shubin
TATTOO OF THE WEEK SPONSORED BY ELECTRIC TATTOO–This shot came from Mike “Balls” Farabaugh, back east. Mike is responsible for the Penthouse show in Sturgis every year with Biker Magazine.
CycleVisions Memorial Weekend RideThe roads are calling and weather is fine…let’s ride!!Join us atCycleVisions Sunday May 30th at 10:00 am. ride leaves 10:30. See you in thewind!
Don’t have a bike to ride on Cycle Visions ride?? Call us at 619-546-5066 for a special daily rate so you can join us on the ride!!
-Bikes For Sale-
2008 Blue Pearl FLHX Street Glide $15,599
2009 Pewter Pearl FLHX Street Glide $16,999
2009 Black FLHR Road King $14,599
2009 Black FLHTCU Ultra Classic $19,599
2009 Black FLSTC Heritage Softail $15,599
For a complete list of bikes for sale please email us San@EagleRider.com [mailto:san@eaglerider.com]
Cycle Visions
4263 Taylor Street
San Diego, California 92110
619.295.7800
Museum to Give Away 500 American Flags Memorial Day Weekend!Memorial Day has always been a day of remembrance. Dating back to the end of the civil war, Memorial Day was created to pay tribute to the men and women who gave their lives for our country in war. Over the past 200 years, it has developed into a national day of patriotism, as millions of American’s across the country remember those who fought for our freedom, flying American flags to share their respect and appreciation for our country’s fallen soldiers.
Wheels Through Time Museum in Maggie Valley, NC has announced that they’ll be giving away 500 American Flags during its Memorial Day Celebration from Thursday-Monday, May 28-31. The museum, which is now open five days per week throughout the spring, summer, and fall, is holding its 8th Memorial Day Celebration since its relocation to Western North Carolina and is marking the event by offering a free American Flag to the first 500 visitors to the museum.
As part of the celebration, Wheels Through Time will be offering free admission to all veterans, as well as both former and current members of the military throughout the weekend. Beginning Thursday, active and former military members will also be awarded a complimentary 2-year membership to the museum, free of charge.
“We are proud to honor our nation’s military on this day of remembrance,” says museum curator, Dale Walksler. “Our veterans have given so much to our country, and this is our way to pay tribute to them and recognize their contribution to our freedom.”
Wheels Through Time, which houses an all-American collection of many of the world’s rarest motorcycles and automobiles–each in running and operating condition, will be showcasing its Military Motorcycles exhibit throughout the weekend. Over a dozen military machines will be on display, including several of the rarest American military motorcycles ever produced. Exhibitions and demonstrations of those machines will be held regularly all weekend.
For more information on the Wheels Through Time Museum, visit their website, located at www.WheelsThroughTime.com, or call (828) 926-6266.
–Matt Walksler
Wheels Through Time Museum
P.O. 790 / 62 Vintage Lane
Maggie Valley, NC 28751
(828) 926-6266
mattw@wheelsthroughtime.com
IS YOUR BIKE TOUGH ENOUGH? TRY KNUCKLE LEVERS FROM AEROMACH–Our good friend Leslie Barry sent pictures in of his motorcycle with the Aeromach Knuckle Levers. We say he is lookin good and stylin. He sez that he likes the style and gets a lot of comments wherever he stops Heritage Softail. Get more details at www.aeromachmfg.com.
Rally Week 2010: K&G Cycles to be a Major Event Sponsor at the Legendary Buffalo Chip–Legendary Buffalo Chip, SD (May 27, 2010) – Two ‘legendary’ motorcycle industry magnates are coming together to get the party going during this year’s 70th Annual Sturgis Rally Week festivities. K&G Cycles, the virtual motorcycle parts and accessories superstore will be a major sponsor at Sturgis’ premier entertainment venue and motorcycle travel destination, the Legendary Buffalo Chip.
Eager to become an integral element at Sturgis’ best party anywhere, K&G Cycles will be making a large presence at the Legendary Buffalo Chip during Sturgis Bike Week. An official sponsor of the 3rd Annual Legends Ride and the 10th Annual Motorcycles as Art Exhibition, K&G Cycles has also recruited the help of a couple carefully selected K&G girls that will be distributing K&G bandanas- you won’t want to miss it.
Founded in 2006 by George Marakas, K&G Cycles was born out of his love of motorcycling and a desire to turn his hobby of restoring antique bikes into a business. With the advent of K&G Cycles’ Web store in February 2009, Marakas has successfully created a revolutionary approach to online merchandising without sacrificing his personal touch or passion for the industry.
Since its inception in 2009, K&G Cycles has pioneered one of the industry’s most exciting new concepts in motorcycle parts retailing. With 1,200 categories of parts from over 250 manufacturers and 6 major motorcycle parts distributors, motorcyclists can find everything they need all in one location. Hoping to one day become the “Amazon.com” for motorcycle parts and accessories, it’s inevitable that customers will eventually realize that if K&G Cycles doesn’t have it, it probably doesn’t exist.
Also with new lines being added daily, K & G’s goal is to provide their customers with the widest possible selection of American and foreign-made motorcycles parts as well as clothing, apparel and gear at prices you simply will not believe. Driven by their love of motorcycling and the idea of creating a new kind of shopping experience within this marketplace, K&G Cycles have streamlined the buying process while still offering competitive pricing and great customer service. For more information about K & G Cycles, please call (785) 542-9227 or visit them on the Web at www.kandgcycles.com.
–Sarah Wozniak
BIKER’S CHOICE IS IN A RUSH–Rush introduces new 2:1 Pipes. Made in the USA, they are coated, inside and out, with ceramic, which improves the performance and keeps them running cooler keeping both rider and passenger more comfortable. Interchangeable baffles are compatible with all motor sizes and available for Touring, Dyna?, Softail?and Sportster?models, and available in stainless and black.
For more information on fitments and applications, visit www.bikerschoice.com ice or visit one of our many Biker?s Choice dealers.
Happy Riding!
–Carmen
THE WERA RACING LEGEND–This guy is the starter for WERA up north?..I?ve heard stories about him, but have never been flagged by him.
The man has lived in the house his father built with his own hands for eight decades. He was married to his junior high school sweetheart for 61 years. He had one job his whole life, a truck driver. He was racing motorcycles in Daytona when they let you run on the beach, right after World War II. He was a Harley-Davidson factory racer when Ike was in the White House.
He raced more than 3,000 times on more than 360 tracks from Canada to Florida. He stopped racing (at age 47) and started flagging races before men landed on the moon.
Three page article, very cool sheeett?..
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/05/25/AR2010052505063.html?hpid=artslot
CUSTOM BIKE CHRONICLES: 2009 KEINO CYCLES: PEACE & QUIET–Custom Bike Chronicles: Keino Sasaki first came to note as a custom bike builder when he joined Indian Larry?s business. During his time there he learnt a great deal about engine building and with Peace & Quite, which he built in his own shop Keino Cycles, that knowledge shines through.
Keinosuke ?Keino? Sasaki was born and raised in Fukuoka , Japan. Just like the other motorcycle enthusiasts, Keino grew up surrounded by motorcycles, mostly father?s.
He remembers when he was small, he constantly climbed up on dad?s Yamaha 650, tried to reach for handle bar which is way too far for him, and also remembered that he used sketch that Yamaha and change handlebar and seat so he can reach on drawing.
The 93ci engine, in the Keino built Redhook frame, combines a Panhead cylinder and head at the front of the engine with a knucklehead at the rear along with an Andrews B cam, S&S Super E carb and custom pipes.
Custom Bike Chronicles: Showcase of custom sleds from the past and present of the AMD World Championship Motorcycles.
LIMITED EDITION REAL DIVAS RIDE–Only 20 will be built, each one numbered with limited edition badge on frame, and a beautiful 6″x3″ enamel pink with gold trim ribbon on top of gas tank.WHERE THE MONEY GOES – ($1,500.00 from the sale of every bike will be donated to DIVAS FOR A CURE to go to Breast Cancer Research)
RETAIL= $22,995.00
FROM NOW ON — All South Side Kustoms Motorcycles come standard with with Ride Wright Spoke Wheels / Baker 5 Speed Transmission / Choice of Tires / Jay Brake or Hawg Halters Brakes/ Tauer Machine Open Belt Primary and Kraft Tech or Wyatt Gatling Frames. BIKES WILL NOT COME WITH DNA PARTS!
South Side Kustoms is an ALL AMERICAN BUILT MOTORCYCLE WITH AMERICAN PARTS!
Motor – Crazy Horse 100″ or S&S 96″ Raw or 80″ EVO (black and chrome) or 100″ FATSO MOTOR(see specs below)
Paint – See rendering for paint scheme – you will be able to also put survial date and name inside pink ribbon.
choice of tires dunlop/metzler/avon
choice front end standard harley or springer
Choice of sportster tank indented or non indented
Softail 5 speed transmission by Baker
chain or belt
Jaybrake or Hawg Halters brakes
Ride Wright Wheels – 60 or 80 Spoke (powdercoating extra)
South Side Kustoms
596 Michigan Ave.
Buffalo, NY 14203
1-716-823-6279
1-800-675-3191
http://www.south-side-kustoms.com
Jason McCudden~OWNER
info@south-side-kustoms.com
mailto:southsidekustoms@verizon.net
Now Standard: The SS Trike Runs 117? X-Wedge Engine– SS Trike is proud to announce that, effective immediately, all SS Trikes will be shipped with an 117" S&S X-Wedge EPA certified engine. In the firm?s never ending quest to provide the hottest Trike in the market today, they have figured out how to increase power and satisfy the EPA in one swoop.
This new X-Wedge is actually a better match to the race-inspired and bullet-proof automatic transmission that comes standard with all SS Trikes. The broad power band matched to a 2 speed with lock up torque converter will provide the ultimate power train that any 3-wheel enthusiast could desire.
Get more details at SS Trikes
1937 Ford House-Car — One of only six said to have been made per year in the mid-30’s at the Ford plant in St.Paul,Minnesota, according to an article on this car in a 1993 “Old Cars” magazine article.
Very few others–perhaps none–remain on the road, and certainly not in such amazing original condition. The only other known example that I heard of was supposedly housed in the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan. But that turned out to be an early 1920s Model T conversion, the curator told me. He said he’d never seen anything like this ’37!
When discovered in a garage (under a heavy cover) in Northern Minnesota in August 2001, she had only 19,000 miles, and the owner’s manual was actually still in the glove box in like-new condition!
She had always been garaged and treated with ‘Much TLC’ as a collector vehicle.
The interior, all wood lined, was still the way it appeared in the ’30’s and ’40’s, complete with framed photos of the original owner on his travels (mainly to Florida) and his cabin in the North Woods, plus and other memorabilia from the era.
Built on the ’37 Ford Pickup frame and cowling (powered by a 60-hp flathead V8 with aluminum heads), the rear framing is all wood, with the metal skin wrapped around it. The roof structure, too, is all wood, over which the heavy, waterproofed canvas top is still very securely fitted. The structure of the Body is solid, appearing from underneath to be all oak, and still in a remarkably unaltered, undamaged condition.
The door frames are thick, solid oak, and oak is visible around the window openings (as on the four side windows in back) — though it is painted over.
She was a big hit at this campground once we got that Great old flattie V8 hummin’! Note her expanding roof and the original dark green color, which had been repainted. I figure the canvas roof was originally painted in reflective silver to keep it from getting too hot inside. All four side windows open, while the back one tilts out to three positions. The windshield also tilts open at the bottom for natural AC while driving.
Here are a few shots of her in August 2001, out on the road in the Chippewa National Forest north of Grand Rapids, MN… Practicing for her next adventure: “Destination Wavecrest 2001.”
–from CarlR
MYSTERY MOTORCYCLE OF THE WEEK–Chicago police commissioner told Harley-Davidson Motor Company, if they wanted to compete for the contract to provide the city with police motorcycles, they would have to design them like the Indians the city was already using. They felt the motor officers would be confused if the controls and other engine designs did not conform to what they already knew… THE INDIAN POLICE MOTORCYCLE!
So here you have it ladies and gentlemen. The bike Harley built to gain the confidence of Chicago’s finest. A rare bike indeed.
–from From Chessies Photos
LATEST NEW SPONSOR ON BIKERNET, TORIAN LEATHERS–Torian Chopper Leathers believes in old-school design and functionality. It?s back to basics at Torian and it has never looked or felt so good.
All Torian Chopper Leathers jackets feature a mid-weight natural milled cowhide which has a supple feel while still providing protection without bulk. Our Torian Leather Shirts are made from a soft goatskin that has the feel of lambskin with the durability of cowhide.
We select the raw materials that feel good to the skin and wear like iron. All leather come in black.Every Torian Market product is checked for quality and usability. We don?t offer it until we have checked it out. With our 10 pocket Road Vest you have a place for everything and everything has a place.
The Torian Chopper Leather Road Vest is made with the same heavy duty features and supple naked cowhide as our premium leather jackets.
The front zipper keeps you snug and does not allow wind in like a snap vest often will.
Get the details here.
RESEARCH FROM BIKERNET MEDICAL CENTER- Natural Treatments for Vertigo–True vertigo is characterized by the inability to maintain balance, and can involve disturbing sensations; for example, of movement around you when standing still, or a sense of the body actually revolving in space. Often debilitating, it can have a variety of causes, including circulatory disturbances in the brain, damage to the nerves involved in hearing and balance, or viral infections in the inner ear.
The conventional treatment for vertigo is meclizine, a prescription drug that can have unwanted side effects, including drowsiness. In addition, the following natural approaches can be useful:
T’ai chi. The slow, rhythmic movement of this Chinese martial art requires concentration, helps to recalibrate the inner ear, and can help to improve balance
Cranial osteopathy. The gentle manual manipulation of the bones in the skull by a trained osteopath can subtly influence the function of the cranial nerves, including those of the inner ear.
Acupuncture. This traditional therapy aims to restore a balanced pattern of flow through energetic channels called merdians, and may be helpful in recovering from injuries to the head and nervous system.
For more info see: www.drweil.com
SHIPPING CONTAINERS FOR SALE–Arizona Builder – 20′ Cargo/Shipping ContainerArizona – we are selling the 20 foot long Cargo/Shipping Containers throughout Arizona if you are in any need of them for storage. A link to pictures and prices is at the end of this e-mail – They are waterproof and we can deliver to your site. Thank you,Turner. Picture & Pricing link -www.PrescottShedandGarage.com/shippingcontainers
SoCal – Bikernet Insurance Center LLC – Bikers can now protect their adventures with Travel Insurance from Bikernet– Hurricanes, Earthquakes, Floods, Boss Cancels Your Vacation, Coverage for Job Loss, Medical Coverage. . . Why worry? Travel Smart.
Bikernet Insurance now offers high-quality but “cheap-to-buy” travel insurance and travel assistance services. We’ve teamed up with one of the best in the business, “Travel Guard” to bring you a wide variety of ways to protect your travel investment and experience. Here’s a summary of the products available – allpurchased online quick for your convenience. Check out the Travel Guard banner in our insurance department. www.bikernet.com/insurance.
Summary of Biker Travel Products:
1. MedVac – covers emergency evacuation from anywhere in the world. Transports you to the hospital of your choice or back home.
2. Flight Guard – provides life and accident insurance while flying on commercial airlines
3. Car Rental Collision – provides a great alternative to the insurance car rental companies offer.
4. Medical Health Coverage Worldwide – covers medical expenses up to $1,000,000.
5. The Basic Coverages – Trip Cancellation, Trip Interruption, Trip Delay, Missed Connection, Baggage Loss & Delay,
Other important benefits:
1. 24-hour emergency travel services – you get your personal “911” hotline when you travel
2. Children under 17 covered at no additional charge
3. You can upgrade to “Cancel for any reason.”
4. Concierge Services – you name it, Travel Guard Assist can likely plan it for you.
5. Business Assistant – need to do some business? They offer help here too.
Go Ahead! Travel smart from now on. So easy even a biker who rides less than 1,000 miles per year can use it.
Travel Guard insurance from Bikernet. Don’t leave home without it.
Got questions? Want more info? Contact us anytime.
Toll Free: 888-467-8703
Fax: 858-463-8703
Email: clientservice@bikernet-insurance.com
Photo from Rigid Frame Richard.
THERE YOU HAVE IT–If you didn’t receive your daily quota of Bikernet news here, check out our blog. It’s packed with heavy meaningful shit.
Just today, the list of upcoming Bikernet Content exploded with fiction from India, Cannonball bikes report from Doc and just now the Canyon Carver is posting the Bub’s/Wimmer’s tech.
Oh, yeah. I spoke to our European correspondent, the Viking, and he’s sending me a pastel of girls to choose from, for another Girl of Bikernet. Let’s sharpen our editing pencils and see how well the Bikernet Editorial Staff delivers on a half-day Friday. Time will tell and shit will smell.
Ride Forever,
–Bandit
May 27, 2010 Part 1
By Bandit | | General Posts
Hey,
Tis is a party weekend, but don’t forget the men and women who have died to keep us free. We also need to take some time out to preserve our freedom. The fight isn’t over. I’m a nut. I love to post content daily on Bikernet. Sometimes we post more than one article in a day. But suddenly this week I hit mud. I couldn’t seem to make anything happen, so I worked on bikes, and the Bikernet Hearse.
I was waiting on a tech, a girl feature, and images for a Bonneville report from Saddlemen. I couldn’t wrap anything up. Just as my frustration level piqued, a wave of content smacked the Bikernet editing desk. We now have a dresser drop-seat tech from Ian, our Canadian correspondent. Rogue is sending a report on the Cycle Source Run to the Mountain, and so is Marilyn Bragg. Johnny finally posted a wild Paul Funk bike. Next, I’ll be buried in content and can’t get into the shop to work on bikes. Life’s choices can be a bitch. Let’s hit the news:
Custom Motorcycles: Choppers Bobbers Baggers from Motorbooks is an idea book for building custom motorcycles. The book is full of hundreds of photos from famed motorcycle photographer Michael Litchter with text by Howard Kelley.
The format is simple; there is a basic introduction of the different styles of bikes followed by nine chapters covering everything from frames to paint. In between there are chapters and close up shots of fenders, tanks, seats, suspension, wheels, engines, handlebars and commentary on the similarities and differences between the different styles. It?s like walking through a bike show with an expert at your side comparing the different bikes and the subtle nuances of each bike compared to others and the values of each bike alone.
I can see this book being a useful tool for anyone with the idea of building a custom bike. From an expert builder to someone just starting out if you need some inspiration just whip out this big paperback and dive in. It?s like a custom bike show in your own garage.
Custom Motorcycles: Choppers Bobbers Baggers
ISBN 978-0-7603-3607-6
Motorbooks.com
–Kevin Thomas
2011 BRAWLER OUT & BEATING UP THE COMPETITION–The Brawler is the first Muscle Bike to emerge from the Skunk Works of Darwin Motorcycles World Headquarters located in Oklahoma City, OK.
Darwin Motorcycles, creator of the popular line of Brass Balls Bobbers and Choppers, has been increasing the breath and depth of their offering by producing a signature series line of motorcycles. These motorcycles extend the core development strategy of value and premium components.
The Brawler is a spiritual interpretation of Harley-Davidson?s FXR motorcycle. It?s designed to deliver spirited riding experience in a package that is exciting for canyon carving as well as comfortable for extended trips.
Darwin Motorcycles? latest creation comes in three configurations including Brawler, Brawler GT and Brawler GTR.
Get all the details at BrassBallsBobbers.com
CATALINA GRAND PRIX MOTORCYCLE RACING IS BACK–Now here’s a great return to the old days of motorcycle racing, the Catalina Island Grand Prix is coming back, scheduled races will take place on December 4th and 5th, topped off with a 100 mile Pro Race on December 5th, though all of the activities should run over a period of 4 or 5 days. The last time the race was run was in 1958, the image shows a map of the old race course. Catalina Island is located off the coast of southern California
The Avalon City Council Tuesday, May 4 unanimously approved a request by AMA District 37 Motorcycle Club to host a Catalina Island Grand Prix. The on road and off road event should be a great boost to tourism at a time when business is usually slow.
From the Catalina Islander:Throughout the 1950s, the Catalina Grand Prix was one of the premier motorcycle races in the United States. Every year, boats loaded with motorcycles crossed the channel from the mainland. The races usually consisted of more than 206 bikers competing in a mad scramble over a 10-mile course that ran through city streets and up into the hills above Avalon, through the golf course and then back into the city streets.
“This is going to be a family orientated event,” he said. “There will be plenty of spectator access to races… we are bringing back a piece of Catalina’s history and the nostalgia of the Island.?
However, (Avalon Mayor) Kennedy said the event could have a short shelf life on Catalina. “This is a one time permit,” he said. “The success or failure of this event is going to dictate whether anything like this happens again on Catalina.”
Details are still very limited, a website with complete information is expected to be up next month.
Sometime this year, we taxpayers will again receive another ‘EconomicStimulus’ payment–
This is indeed a very exciting program, and I’ll explain it byUsing a Q & A format:
Q. What is an ‘Economic Stimulus’ payment ?
A. It is money that the federal government will send to taxpayers.
Q.. Where will the government get this money ?
A. From taxpayers.
Q. So the government is giving me back my own money ?
A. Only a smidgen of it.
Q. What is the purpose of this payment ?
A. The plan is for you to use the money to purchase aHigh-definition TV set, thus stimulating the economy.
Q. But isn’t that stimulating the economy of China ?
A. Shut up!
Below is some helpful advice on how to best help the U.S. Economy bySpending your stimulus check wisely:
* If you spend the stimulus money at Wal-Mart, the money willGo to China or Sri Lanka .
* If you spend it on gasoline, your money will go to theArabs.
* If you purchase a computer, it will go to India , Taiwan orChina .
* If you purchase fruit and vegetables, it will go to Mexico ,Honduras and Guatemala ..
* If you buy an efficient car, it will go to Japan or Korea .
* If you purchase useless stuff, it will go to Taiwan .
* If you pay your credit cards off, or buy stock, it will goto management bonuses and they will hide it offshore.
Instead, keep the money in America by:
1) Spending it at yard sales, or
1a)on Choppers
2) Going to ball games, or
3) Spending it on prostitutes, or
4) Beer or
5) Tattoos.
6) Buy a Harley-Davidson
7) Buy a Ford
(These are the only American businesses still operating in the U.S… ) Conclusion:
Ride to a ball game with a tattooed prostitute that you met at a yardsale and drink beer all day !
No need to thank me, I’m just glad I could be of help.
–Jim Waggaman
Driver won’t face criminal charges2 motorcyclists died when SUV hit them at red light–Mount Pleasant — A man who drove his SUV into two motorcycles that were stopped at a red light last week, killing both riders, will face no criminal charges and will be cited for a minor traffic offense.
Charles J. McDonald, 38, of Meggett, was driving the Ford Explorer that struck the motorcyclists shortly before 11:30 a.m. May 11 on U.S. Highway 17 at Anna Knapp Boulevard, according to police. Motorcyclists James Doucette, 80, of Port Charlotte, Fla., and James Hines, 50, of Yaphank, N.Y., died in the accident, and the driver of a car stopped in front of them, 73-year-old Mary Lucarelli of Mount Pleasant, was injured.Statement
McDonald’s vehicle struck the two motorcycles, then Lucarelli’s truck, and her truck then struck the last vehicle in line at the traffic light, according to police statements and reports. A police report says McDonald was going the speed limit, 45 mph, when he struck the stopped vehicles, and lists “driving too fast for conditions” and “distraction/inattention” as contributing factors in the accident.
The Mount Pleasant Police Department said the decision to file no criminal charges related to the two deaths came after a review with 9th Circuit Solicitor Scarlett Wilson’s office. Wilson said Tuesday that she consulted with police officials at their request, but that the decision on charges was theirs.
Capt. Stan Gragg said police had no reason to believe alcohol or drugs were involved in the incident, and did not have cause to test McDonald. He also said there was no indication a cell phone was being used at the time of the wreck, but Gragg said he had no information as to why McDonald did not notice the motorcycles and cars stopped at the red light.
“It’s sad, but accidents happen every day,” said Lionel Lofton, McDonald’s attorney. “He’s very, very sorry that this happened.”
“It was a terrible accident, but it was an accident,” he said.
McDonald’s treatment by police is similar to a number of other recent accidents involving motorcycles. In incidents this year in North Charleston, Ladson and Myrtle Beach, drivers were charged with failing to yield the right of way after collisions with motorcycles, two of which involved the death of the motorcyclist.Previous coverage
2 motorcyclists die in wreck, published 05/12/10
Report names driver in crash, published 05/15/10
Such cases are treated quite differently if the driver was under the influence of alcohol or drugs, even if the outcomes are similar.
In a 2008 wreck in Mount Pleasant, also involving two motorcycles and a sport-utility vehicle on U.S. 17, one man was killed and another injured after their bikes were struck from behind just after the red light they were stopped at had changed to green.
The driver of the SUV, Mallory Hood, now 22, was sentenced last month to 18 years in prison after pleading guilty to felony DUI involving a fatality.
The traffic charge McDonald will face, traveling too fast for conditions, carries a fine and points against a driver’s license. Lofton said he expects McDonald will pay the fine rather than fight the ticket.
Lofton said he expects civil litigation against McDonald could follow.
Mount Pleasant police Capt. Carl Ritchie said previously that the motorcyclists struck by McDonald were in the Myrtle Beach area for Bike Week and had decided to come to Charleston for the day.
By David Slade
The Post and Courier
–From: ff@fastfreds.com
Apparently a biker’s life is worth less than that of a dog in SC. If you kill or maim a service animal even by accident the minimum fine is $5,000. However killing a biker even through gross negligence often results in a minor ticket and two points against one’s driver’s license. Case in point two bikers were killed near Charleston while waiting at a traffic light with other vehicles. The driver of a pickup truck in front of them was also injured but Solicitor Wilson and Mt Pleasant Police failed to charge the offending driver appropriately. I urge all concerned citizens to work together to vote 9th Circuit Solicitor Scarlett Wilson out of office.
You can learn more about this injustice by reading the article at the following URL: http://www.postandcourier.com/news/2010/may/19/driver-wont-face-criminal-charges/
Ride safe out there and remember if the other driver sees you assume they are trying to kill you. Your safety begins and ends with you. Do not expect others to drive safely or look out for your safety.
If this outrages you please contact your SC legislators to help prevent future injustices! http://www.scstatehouse.gov/
~FF
House Chamber, Washington, D.C.
May 20, 2010
M. Speaker:I rise to take strong exception to the speech of the President of Mexico while in this chamber today.
The Mexican government has made it very clear for many years that it holds American sovereignty in contempt and President Calderons behavior as a guest of the Congress confirms and underscores this attitude.
It is highly inappropriate for the President of Mexico to lecture Americans on American immigration policy, just as it would be for Americans to lecture Mexico on its laws.
HARLEY-DAVIDSON’S NEW STURGIS LOCATION–Abandoning the Rapid City Convention Center, Harley-Davidson unveiled its 2 new locations in the heart of Sturgis, S.D., where the Motor Company will celebrate the 70th Annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally 6-14, 2010.
The Harley-Davidson Road Tour with the newly released 2011 Harley-Davidson motorcycles, Genuine Motor Accessories, MotorClothes merchandise and H.O.G. members-only pin stop will run from Friday, Aug. 6 through Saturday, Aug. 14 at the intersection of Lazelle and 3rd streets in downtown Sturgis. All Harley-Davidson activities in Sturgis are free of charge.
Harley-Davidson demo rides for 2011 motorcycles will be available in Sturgis at a location near Interstate 90 at Exit 30.
–from Rogue
BIKERNET GANGSTER INVESTIGATION–A Mafia Godfather finds out that his bookkeeper, Enzo, has cheated him out of 10 million bucks.
His bookkeeper is deaf. That was the reason he got the job in the first place.
It was assumed that Enzo would hear nothing that he might have to testify about in court.
When the Godfather goes to confront Enzo about his missing $10 million, he takes along his lawyer who knows sign language.
The Godfather tells the lawyer, “Ask him where the 10 million bucks is that he embezzled from me.”
The lawyer, using sign language, asks Enzo where the money is..
Enzo signs back, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
The lawyer tells the Godfather, “He says he doesn’t know what you are talking about.”
The Godfather pulls out a pistol, puts it to Enzo’s temple and says, “Ask him again!”
The lawyer signs to Enzo, “He’ll kill you if you don’t tell him.”
Enzo signs back, “OK. You win!
The money is in a brown briefcase, buried behind the shed in my cousin Joey’s backyard in Old bridge NJ!
The Godfather asks the lawyer, “What did he say?”
The lawyer replies, ” He says you don’t have the guts to pull the trigger..”
–Geno
CYCLE SOURCE BMR STORY COMING–Bandit, I attended Cycle Source’s BMR pre-party at Slick Willey’s, and rode with the cycle source crew from slick willey’s to Tilly’s HD, then onto the Campgrounds in Tellico Plains TN. I left a day early and missed some festivities…but I still have a story to tell (with pictures). Want the story?
It was like living in the ’70s again, only without all the young adult angst and BULLSHIT. This is what a biker party was/should be/ and I was so grateful to experience it once more. How nice to ride with guys and gals who realize what real biker etiquette and respect is about. How refreshing.
Marilyn
NEW BIKES FROM JOHNNY’S CUSTOMS OUTSIDE AUSTIN– Attached are some pictures of another project we recently completed.
–Johnny Gil
johnnyscustom308@aol.com
Johnny’s Custom
1316 Trenton Rd.
McAllen, TX 78504
(956) 687-4256
johnnyscustom308@aol.com
www.johnnyscustom.com
STURGIS SHOVEL FEATURE–How’s this for a Bikernet time warp. I threatened to write a story about my 2005 Sturgis Shovel build, only to discover we already posted a feature years ago. Here’s the link:http://www.bikernet.com/bikebarn/PageViewer.asp?PageID=771
I’ve been working and fixing up that bike. It was beginning to squeak, and I discovered a worn out tappet roller, so I replace all four. Then I discovered an intake air leak and corrected the strap. It still hauls ass. Fuck it, I’ll write about something else. Our Bonneville projects.
NEGOTIABLE FINDS THE MOTHER LODE–Tim from Negotiable Parts, Riverside, Ca, is constantly digging for old or neglected parts. Stay in touch with him for the finest swap meet special, or vintage parts for your project.
Here’s some shots of his latest score.
negotiableparts@aol.com>
GARAGE GIRLS ULTIMATE BIKER MAKEOVER–Hurry Up, Get your Vote in for The Garage Girls Ultimate Biker Makeover, Carlisle Edition brought to you by GEICO powersports.
Just a reminder to head on over to www.garage-girls.com and vote for who you feel most deserves to win the Ultimate Biker Makeover. Voting ends June 15th 2010.
This is it, the winners of the Ultimate Biker Makeover are up to you. 2 winners will be selected, both getting hooked up with??new riding Jacket and Gloves from Z1R, a Vega helmet, HD Footwear boots, a cleaning kit from Wizards Products, a years subscription to IronWorks Magazine, a case of Synthetic oil from Spectro Oils, a pair of riding glasses from 7 Eye, T-shirt from VaVaVroom, and a technology case from Otterbox. The one winner with the most amount of votes will also be scoring parts for his or her motorcycle such as, accessories from Kuryakyn, A set of AVON Tires and lots of other goodies.
They need your vote to win. Who will you choose? The contestants are;
David Bardwell – down on his luck after losing his job at a Chevrolet dealership and has been forced to sell his house and possessions to care for his family.
Kathy Redman – After losing her husband to cancer all she wants to do is one day get his 81 Shovelhead back in running condition in his memory.
Judy Reed – A 52 year old rider that desperately needs help fitting her bike to herself.
For more information, rules, eligibility and submission procedures, visit www.Garage-Girls.com or www.CarlisleEvents.com. If interested in getting your company involved please contact Sara Liberte at sara@garage-girls.com
For more information, visit www.garage-girls.com or www.carlisleevents.com contact Sara Liberte at
sara@garage-girls.com
VINTAGE KLASS WILL BE AT AN EVENT NEAR YOU, BE THERE–Hey everyone. Happy summer to you! Here is where we will be vending in June –
June 11 – 13 Ink and Iron, Queen Mary, Long Beach, CAwww.ink-and-iron.com
June 19 Big Bear Choppers Show, Big Bear Lake, CAwww.bigbearchoppers.com
June 27 Long Beach Cycle Swap, Long Beach, CAwww.toppingevents.com
–Joel and Mary, Vintage Klass
Vintage Helmets and Leathers
949 355 8098
www.myspace.com/vintageklass
Bikernet Word of the Week–waxing WAK-sing, verb:
1. To increase in extent, quantity, intensity or power.
2. (Of the moon) to increase in the extent of its illuminated portion before the full moon.
3. To grow or become.
We move into the waxing moontime of our lives with an enthusiastic impatience for life beyond the family.
— Nancy VanArsdall, Coming Full Circle: Honoring the Rhythms of Relationships
New York spot gold prices softened a bit Friday afternoon after showing strength earlier in the day, waxing and waning amid the mix of positive domestic news and uncertainties over Europe’s expensive debt rescue plan.
— “Spot Gold Prices: Waxing and Waning”, TheStreet.com
Waxing often refers specifically to the moon (the increase in the size of its illuminated portion prior to the full moon), but is often put to general use. Often paired with wane, “to decrease in intensity.
BATOR INTERNATIONAL PRESENTS–California Classic Motorcycle Auction,June 5, 2010,Pasadena Convention Center.BATOR INTERNATIONAL AND BATOR AUCTIONS IS PROUD TO ANNOUNCE THAT THE LATE ARRIVALS ARE COMING IN!
“WOW WHAT A LINE UP!”
1929 Harley Davidson JDH Twin Cam
This 1929 Harley Davidson JDH Twin Cam was originally owned by the late and great Bud Ekins. It was featured in the Walt Disney Movie “The Rocketeer” then sold to Otis Chandler’s Vintage Museum. Restored by Glenn Bator in 1993. Has been on static display ever since!
1971 Munch Mammut TTS 1200
One of only 250 Munch motorcycles ever produced! Original condition with 46,000 miles. Serial #201. This bike is an excellent runner!! Don’t miss this extraordinary opportunity!!
1950 Vincent Gray Flash Replica
Built from a Vincent Comet, frame and engine and a correct Albion transmission. On static display for a number of years, this frame off restoration has been masterfully built and restored by CTG Vincent, UK.
MANY NEW BIKES COMING IN DAILY!
REGISTER YOUR MOTORCYCLE NOW!
CONTACT US AT 805 646-9566 OR
AT WWW.BATORAUCTIONS.COM
California Classic Motorcycle Auction
Bator International Auctions
June 5, 2010
Pasadena Convention Center
300 Green Street
Pasadena California 91101
Continued On Page 2
May 27, 2004 Part 1
By Bandit | | General Posts
I’m still hungover. I had this crazy experience Tuesday night. I was invited to Phil Ross’s daughter’s home in Torrance for a Fondue dinner. Phil is one of the masters behind the belt drive movement on bikes. He still make Supermax belt drives, one at a time, by himself in Montana. He introduced gates belts to H-D and that’s what they run on the rear of most Harleys. Hell, I have one of his systems in the primary of my pan.
We arrived at this 1930s home and discovered that the whole family is made up of South Bay riders. Two elements stuck out. The Daughter’s old man runs a porno shop in town and guaranteed that if we come in, we’ll leave with a smile. Second, they poured me a Jack on the rocks that was little rocks and a 1/2 pint of Jack.
We ate Fondue, or stuff dipped in boiling grease, drank Jack, like it was water, and shot the shit with Fred Sanders of the Ink Slingers Ball who dialed Gil Monte, who ran Tattoo Mania and is Fred’s partner. I couldn’t understand a word he was saying on the cell from the Pan handle. About midnight my body told me, “He mofo, if you want to stand much longer, you better split.”
I haven’t drank that much whiskey in 20 years. That was bonfire times except we stood around a bucket of boiling grease. I’m still hungover. Let’s hit the news:
MISSOURI HELMET BILL SHAFTED– We were promised our Bill would be brought to the Senate floor on Wednesday.The 2004 Legislative session ended at 6:00 pm today (5/14) with our billnever making it to the floor, and it was NEXT IN LINE! You can thank SenatorKen Jacob of Columbia for his afternoon filibuster, which kept ALL billsfrom coming to the floor. Our bill was offered up to be allowed on thefloor, but he refused to yield for it to be considered!
FORR has been played like a “cheap fiddle” by a handful of our electedrepresentatives this session. Catherine Hanaway told us she would not usethe power of her office as Speaker of the House, to keep our bill off theHouse Calendar, despite her personal beliefs against our bill. She kept itoff the House Calendar for over a month, resulting in us getting it to theSenate a month later (one week ago)!
Senator Jacob also promised not to filibuster and keep our bill from a voteon the Senate floor!
PLEASE REMEMBER THESE NAMES WHEN YOU VOTE IN AUGUST AND NOVEMBER, AND EVENNEXT YEAR!!Agree with their platform or not, FORR will be there working for theopposition! As we said in 2000, “Paybacks are Hell!” Hell hath no fury likea biker scorned!
Sam “Hog” King
Webmaster
Missouri Freedom of Road Riders
SCREAMIN? EAGLE/VANCE & HINES TEAM STORMS TO FINALS IN CHICAGO–Hines, Tonglet Qualify 1-2; Hines Pads Pro Stock Bike Points Lead
JOLIET, Ill. (May 23, 2004) – The Screamin? Eagle/Vance & Hines team advanced to the final round of Pro Stock Bike eliminations at the 7th Annual NHRA Route 66 Nationals after riders Andrew Hines and GT Tonglet dominated qualifying aboard their Screamin? Eagle V-Rod motorcycles. Hines finished in the runner-up position after a red-light start in the final, but left Route 66 Speedway with a new track ET record and a 53-point lead in Pro Stock Bike points after four NHRA POWERade Drag Racing Series events this season.
?This is a really quick track and the team found a good set-up early in qualifying,? said Screamin? Eagle Racing Manager Anne Paluso. ?Our times in the first 60 feet have really improved and the riders are able to put their Screamin? Eagle power to good use. Andrew has pulled further ahead in points and GT is right there in third. The NHRA Pro Stock Bike championship is our goal.?
Hines was the number one qualifier for the event with a run of 7.167 seconds at 184.62 mph. Tonglet was right on his tail with a 7.169/187.16 run to claim the number two qualifying position.
?The Pro Stock Bike field is really competitive, so we have to feel good about taking the top spots in qualifying,? said Tonglet. ?It really makes a statement for this Screamin? Eagle team.?
Under threatening skies on Sunday, Hines (7.158/187.34) defeated Blaine Hale (7.351/169.74), while Tonglet (7.174/186.67) beat Scott Valetti (7.286/179.44) as both Screamin? Eagle riders moved through the first round of eliminations. In round two, Hines (7.120/187.68) got the win on a red-light start by Antron Brown (9.622/81.55). Tonglet (7.226/184.93) had a bad pass, his slowest of the weekend, and was defeated by Michael Phillips (7.197/184.98).
Hines faced Craig Treble (7.233/183.57) in the semi-final round and backed up an outstanding 0.009 reaction time with a 7.093/187.76 run to set a new track ET record and roll to an easy win.
?My Screamin? Eagle V-Rod just got quicker with each run,? said Hines. ?We had some engine trouble early in the weekend and this was a brand new motor and it was really strong. We seem to have found the set-up we need to get through the first 60 feet smoothly. And the traction at this track is outstanding.?
The final round saw Hines facing number six qualifier Shawn Gann, and a red-light start by Hines gave the win to the Suzuki rider.?This is really tough because I had the bike to win with,? said Hines. ?I short-shifted after I saw I had the red light and still ran a 7.177. But we earned good points this weekend and leave in first place, which is what counts at the end of the season.?
After four rounds Hines leads the NHRA Pro Stock Bike class with 348 points. With his win, Gann moves into second place with 295 points. Tonglet is third with 282 points, followed by Antron Brown (256) and Angelle Savoie (255).
The next Pro Stock Bike event on the NHRA POWERade Drag Racing Series is the 40th Annual NHRA Pontiac Excitement Nationals, June 11-13, at National Trail Raceway near Columbus, Ohio.
CYRIL HUZE KUSTOM KULTURE TEES–These Kustom Kulture tees are an extension of our motorcycle lifestyle. Printed front & back with the beautiful pinstriping designed by Cyril on his chopper called Stray Kat. Sleeves are also printed with the famous Kat. Premium quality. 100% preshrunk heavyweight 5.5 oz cotton. Sleeves with rib knit cuffs. Black, White or Red.. Sizes: M, L, XL, XXL.
Cyril Huze Custom Inc.
Tel: 561-392-5557
BIKERNET MEDICAL DEPARTMENT–Doctor Dave had sex with one of his patients and felt guilty all day long.No matter how much he tried to forget about it, he couldn’t. The guilt andsense of betrayal was overwhelming.
But every once in a while he’d hear an internal, reassuring voice thatsaid: “Dave, don’t worry about it. You aren’t the first doctor to sleepwith one of their patients and you won’t be the last. And you’re single.Just let it go.”
But invariably another voice would bring him back to reality,whispering…………..”Dave, you’re a veterinarian…”
–from Dave F.
BUELL RACERS TACKLE MILE-HIGH CHALLENGE AT PIKES PEAK–Kosco Team Continues Top 10 Run; Hal?s Team Suffers Electronic Gremlin
FOUNTAIN, Colo. (May 23, 2004) – Buell Firebolts entered by Hal?s Harley-Davidson/Buell and Kosco Harley-Davidson/Buell mounted a challenge to factory-backed teams in the Lockhart Phillips USA Formula Xtreme class during the AMA Chevrolet Superbike Championship Series at Pikes Peak International Raceway. Hal?s rider Mike Ciccotto ran as high as fifth position while Michael Barnes pushed his Kosco Firebolt as high as seventh spot before dropping back to ninth at the finish.
?The Pikes Peak course presents some special challenges, and our dealer teams responded with a good performance,? said Erik Buell, chairman and chief technical officer at Buell Motorcycle Company. ?The guys were running strong and it?s clear these teams are making some real progress, and learning more at each race.?
Located at an elevation of 5,300 feet in the foothills of the Colorado Rocky Mountains, the tight, 1.3-mile Pikes Peak course demands that teams re-tune for the oxygen-thin air and cope with higher engine temperatures. Ciccotto qualified in 10th position, with Barnes right behind in the 11th qualifying position.
Both riders got a great start in the Formula Xtreme race. Ciccotto jumped up to fifth position after the first lap, but a faulty engine sensor that started acting up on the warm-up lap caused him to lose power. As the race wore on, he dropped back steadily before leaving the race on lap 13 of the 29-lap event.
?This was a really disappointing result, because the Hal?s team made some set-up changes in the morning warm-up session and gave me a bike that was just about perfect,? said Ciccotto. ?I moved right up at the start and we made our best lap times of the weekend, and I think a top-five finish was in the cards. But we learned a lot this weekend. We made some internal fork changes and tried a wider rear wheel. I?m looking forward to bringing this Buell Firebolt to Road America, which is the home track for Hal?s and Buell.?
Barnes moved up to seventh place on lap five, and finished ninth for his third top-ten finish of the season. The race was won by Honda rider Jake Zemke.
AMA Formula Xtreme is a class open to highly-modified motorcycles with 600cc four-cylinder engines or larger-displacement V-Twin engines. The next stop on the AMA Chevrolet Superbike Championship schedule is June 4-6 at the Road America course near Elkhart Lake, Wis.
BIKERNET CONTEST WINNERS– Every week I try to pick winners from our two contests; one in the free area and one in the Cantina. I get lots of submissions with great suggestions, and then occasionally I get some a-hole who just wants to bitch. We really do read each submission, and try to implement some of the suggestions. Some just take a little longer to do. Keep them coming cause I?m out hustling our sponsors for better items to give away besides your regular t-shirt or hat.
This week, it?s with great pleasure that I announce the winners of a complete BDL belt drive set-up for a softail, and a brand-new set of Harley-Davidson leather-covered hard bags for a sporty. The belt drive winner will bring his bike here to Bikernet for the installation and assist. Article to come?
Next week I?ll be giving away some H-D collector plates, ?Road Trip? from 1995.
Here Are The Winners:
JOHN C. NORRIS FROM MATTHEWS, NC
Suggestion: I SUGGEST YOU ALL SEND A SECRET CHOPPER AGENT TO MY HUMBLE BUT EFFECTIVE CHOPPER MAKING GARAGE AND DO A FULL ON ARTICLE ABOUT ME. THEN AFTER YOU PRINT IT MAYBE I CAN QUIT MY SHITTY JOB AND MAKE A SMALL LIVING BUILDING CHEAP BUT BAD ASS RIDES. THAT IS IT.
Wanted: THAT SOMEBODY WILL DONATE PARTS FOR FUTURE BIKES. IF YOU DO, I WILL SAY YOUR NAME 3 TIMES ON MY DISCOVERY CHANNEL SPECIAL CALLED ” SHIT YOU CAN BUILD IN A GARAGE THAT LOOKS LIKE SHIT BUILT IN A GARAGE”.
I?m not sure what I?m gonna send John yet, but it will be cool.
ROGER MILLER FROM ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA
Suggestion: I THINK IF YOUR WEB HAD MORE TYPES OF TECH ADVISE FOR GARAGE BUILDERS AND A WAYS TO SEARCH FOR THE TECH HELP ON YOUR SITE WHENEVER YOU LOOK UP TECH ADVISE,LIKE WHATS THE COMPRESSION ON A STOCK MOTOR, OR WHEN DO YOU RECOMMEND TO CHANGE THE OIL.
Wanted: I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A 3-INCH OPEN BELT DRIVE WITH CLUTCH AND ALLTHE BELLS, NEW FORWARD CONTROLS 2 INCH OVER, ECT,ECT ANYTHING TO HELP MOD MY BIKE MORE IS ALWAYS HIGHLY APPRICIATED. THANK YOU ROGER
Roger wins the BDL belt drive and we are currently looking into get a search feature here on Bikernet. I?ve been bitching for years to Bandit that we needed it, and finally now he listens.
From The Cantina
PETER HAGEN FROM HAMPSTEAD , NEW HAMPSHIRE
Wanted: The leather saddle bags for the sportster you mention in Thursday News.I have an old leather pair and some new ones would be perfect.
Peter gets the H-D saddlebags.
Till next week, Layla
Continued On Page 2
Bonneville 2007 Effort, Chapter 6
By Bandit | | General Posts
Mentally I’ve kicked off this chapter a thousand times. I come up with one lead after another to characterize my feelings at this construction juncture. I still feel two months behind schedule and scrambling. On one side side we’re making real progress, on the other, well you’ll see.
Last chapter we began bending our seat back form. We pulled it over a chunk of rusting tubing and kinked it the first time out. We welded angle iron on the tubing bottom for gig and worked the 16-guage, mild steel sheet metal again using heat from a rosebud torch. It worked better. We beat, bent, ground and formed for a day. Jeremiah, a young, local, building contractor, has a master’s touch when it comes to grinding. I’m too impatient and heavy handed.
We worked it and worked it. I used packing straps to pull it into place and more heat. Then we welded chunks of small ¾ inch angle iron to hold it down. With Jeremiah’s help, it was coming together. Under the seat I intended to install wiring connection boards or fuze holders and circuit breakers. I wanted to prepare for accessible and easy-to-locate connections for quick salt repairs. I spoke to Arron Wilson about nitrous system. He’s run nitrous for over 15 years and suggested that we keep the system as simple as possible, but Berry Wardlaw, the god of Panhead power, from Accurate Engineering had the fortune to consult with the gods of nitrous on the east coast.
“Wow, that was fast didn't think you would be awake yet,” Berry said. “I am bringing extra nitrous bottles with me so we can change them out. I will have the answer today about needing two. I was going to use the other bottle to help pressurize the nitrous. I am calling Keith Turk right now. He is the world’s fastest on nitrous and lives here in Alabama. Mounting will not be a problem, but make sure Tom (Rodan) ok's the bracket.”
Berry spoke to the crew at Holley, who owns Hooker, and with their input, he ordered the A50558-SNOS system complete with a 5-pound bottle, two gauges, nitrous solenoids, filters, nozzles, lines, clamps, arming switch, relay, pushbutton, you name it. It’s a plumbing project and I’m glad we planned considerable space for mounting all these elements. Nitrous is not a super fuel, but a system that injects pure oxygen into the engine under pressure, which is perfect for the elevated, 4000 feet, Bonneville Salt Flats.
I’ll touch on the aerodynamics here. We’ve been grappling with the technology, wind tunnel research, and NASCAR design. It’s a blast to study, read and constantly filter the information against what we have in mind. I kept thinking lower and lower, since the basis of NASCAR design is to keep the air out from under the car for a couple of reasons. It creates lift and drag where it tries to squish down and slip under the vehicle.
I thought I had a plan. We were going to work with Leo DiOrio to drop the bike even further and run a belly pan under it for a pure slick surface. In addition we were considering a Hamster air damn in front of the frame to force the bike down against the ground. We were going to slam the chassis against the salt. Then one morning I received a call from Colonel Wardlaw, the Panhead commander, “Lt. Ball,” he said in his deepest voice. I was still asleep, but I always take his calls.
”Yes sir,” I mumbled trying to pry my eyes open.
”Regarding your NASCAR and wind tunnel findings, I have a problem,” he continued. “It’s a motorcycle. It must lean. Valerie must turn it off the track.”
I sat bolt upright in bed. “Goddamnit Colonel,” I spat. “You’re right. Back to the drawing board.”
We shit-canned the belly pan and shifted back to the original plan of the oil bag under the chassis, but designed in such a way to be ultimately user friendly with the wind. You’ll witness that project in the next chapter.
I did build a belly-pan of sorts, behind the frame cross member holding the rear transmission mounts. I made it out of ¼-inch steel plate and it reached and cupped the rear fender. This puppy worked in several ways. It grasped and mounted the front of the rear fender, and I discovered that it centered the fender perfectly over the wheel and made it as tight and solid as a battleship hull.
The rear pan worked also to release any air under the transmission up and away from the motorcycle. I needed to check with Vance Breeze, another motorcycle performance mastermind, but my initial goal was to point the rear of the bike like the trailing edge of a wing allowing the wind to escape the confines of the mechanical beast with the least amount of drag. In addition this heavy plate would help hold the rear end down and become our Big Boar Battery platform.
Here’s another comment from a Bikernet Television viewer: Bill Hayes here…I received an interesting email from a guy in Minnesota who saw/heard the interview I did with you for Charlie's internet biker show. The guy really took your Bonneville experience to heart…below are his comments…thought you might be interested:
I saw last weekend’s “Inner Circle” show and took an interest in Keith Ball's story about going to Bonneville with a bike he built. If you are in contact with him and he would be interested in some aerodynamic input, I’d suggest he take a look at the shape of a tear drop. As silly as that sounds it happens to be one of the least drag, most aerodynamically perfect shapes. (I dug that up after wondering why a raindrop is shaped the way it is, another of those childhood curiosities, I just couldn’t let go of, and no there was no mood altering chemicals involved.)
”He mentioned that weight on wheels seems to help with traction, he might take a look at the tail of an airplane, specifically the horizontal stabilizer. It actually produces negative lift (downward force) to counteract the weight of the airplane that is out in front of the wing (ie. the nose). He mentioned that he can’t put a fairing around the bike, but I think that with a combination of tweaks, including the shape of the rider, that they could come up with a good and slippery machine that sticks to the ground well.
”Some ideas would be starting at the front of the bike at the first part that feels the air (such as the fender), trying to direct that airflow to meet the headlight area and flow smoothly up and over the rider (shape of helmet, seating position?) and around the bike and rider with the same slippery idea. Also, the way the air flows under the bike can have a great deal to do with keeping it stuck to the ground.
”There is a book that is a good technical reference on the theory of wings and how they work. It’s kind of technical but has a lot of great info on aerodynamics and airflow. The book is called Theory of Wing Sections by Ira H. Abbott and Albert E. Von Doenhoff.
Maybe they can take the idea of a wing, which is basically supposed to carry something through the air with the greatest efficiency and the least amount of drag, turn it upside down with the idea of moving through the air with the least amount of drag and using the downward force to keep it stuck to the ground.
”It sure sounds like a fun project and I wish them well and hope for their success.
”Thanks for another good show, You and Charlie B. are a class act !!”
— Matt Ferrari
I went to work mounting the battery. It’s humorous how the slightest element of building a bike can become complicated. I wanted the battery to clear all elements, not rub against the transmission or be close to the chain. We needed to be able to remove it, pad it and reach the terminals.
I made thick 1-inch bungs and taped them to 3/8-18 threads for a solid connection, then discovered that with the tall bungs in place I couldn’t remove the battery without removing the transmission first. That wouldn’t do. I removed the tacked bungs, ground the welds away and machined them down to 5/8-inch height. Ultimately, I welded in a block to prevent the battery from slipping forward. With each tacked modification we tested, removed and replaced the battery.
It’s tough to build any bike without all the elements in place. In our case we needed an engine, the BDL primary drive, the Baker transmission and all the pulleys and sprockets in place and linked. The slightest movement from any major element and we could face serious consequences. I used an old engine-shipping, top motormount to make the top battery strap and I’ll need to order the proper length stainless Allens from our fastener sponsor, DMP.
Somewhat confident with the battery mount we worked on the circuit panel above the battery and cut it to clear the spark plug wires, but give us lots of room to install Nitrous solenoids and fuel pumps.
Some element of this masterpiece can’t be handled or roughed out solo. I needed another set of hands to actually attach the side panels and make bungs to hold them in place. Back in 1990 on the Easyriders team the brothers used Zeus fittings to hold the panels in place, the same fittings that hold Harley-Davidson saddlebags in their cradles. For some reason, I just used ¼-20 nuts welded to the backs of 1/8-inch thick brackets I’ve held onto for 20 years. Don’t throw anything away and organize shit, so you can find it. Ya never know.
We tacked one panel in place and removed the rear wheel, battery and transmission. Jeremiah wore a leather glove and held the brackets in place while I tacked them. We scored the inside of the bracket fastener, as a guide, to drill panel holes and ground our outside panel tacks away. We removed the plates, welded the brackets, Jeremiah drilled the holes and we tried fitting the panel again.
Again we had to think about tubing and wiring routing, and eventually we knocked a couple of tabs off and relocated them.
Before I could consider building the oil bag, since we still didn’t have a front end, I needed to create a center-stand that wouldn’t interfere with anything and hold the bike securely. I was using two, 2-by-4s which amount to just over 3 inches in height. We kept wandering around the bike looking for a way to make a stand. One option was the Paughco front peg mounts, which we had no use for. Again, we wanted something strong and secure, without interfering with aerodynamics. I went to work Plasma cutting chunks of flat ¼-inch steel, grinding and drilling them.
I swear that some days I can indicate the appropriate location for drilling and bore holes all day that line up. Other days I couldn’t drill a hole in the proper location for all the opium in China. This was one of those evenings. Maybe she was on my mind, I don’t know. Then I needed to figure out what height and create a plan. I went back and forth a number of times, cut chunks of solid stock 1 inch long, made a number of measurements and finally tacked the big tits in place taking care to insure that they were aligned, so the stand would be square on the frame. Then I cut thick wall tubing sections a ¼-inch less in depth to avoid jamming against the welds.
We measured the height of the desired lift time after time and fucked it up a couple of times before we nailed it down. Then we cut lengths of solid 3/8-steel rod and built the platform. All-in-all, it came out cool and holds the front of the frame securely without hindering our oil bag construction or mounting.
Wait until you see the oil bag under construction, plus we will show you the rider pegs in the next chapter. Every element impacts another aspect and we need to finish the chain guard required by the SCTA rule book.
Two-Wheeled Love
By Sam Burns | | General Posts
Stormin’ Norman slammed his mug on the bar. “Fuckin’ bitch!” he yelled, tossing the thick, empty beer glass against the mirror behind the bar. Both shattered instantly. Exploding shards of glass blanketed the bar, bartender, and barmaid.
Norman was big and burly. Some called him Bear. He wore a fringed leather jacket with strips of Indian beads sewn on the shoulders like military stripes. He had a massive mane of jet black waves and a full beard. “That motherfucker?” he began, just as three locals tackled him, including the ex-pro ballplayer/bartender. They crumpled to the floor in a shower of bar stools and beer bottles.
Norman worked for public services in the small town of Franklin, 300 miles north of San Francisco, on the coast. He was responsible for the welfare of all the indigent juveniles in the county. He had worked for the government for almost 20 years, and was dedicated to helping children left behind by parents, those dragged from place to place by homeless mothers and fathers, abused kids, and youngsters who, at the age of 10, already had alcohol problems. Norman was also no pushover, and although the four men who had tackled him were all hard working and in shape, he was on his feet in no time, ready to slug it out. 
“Calm down, Norm,” one of the men shouted as he struggled to his feet, hands raised, palms facing Norman to ward off heavy-fisted punches.
“What the fuck is your problem?” shouted Ned Kilpatrick, the redheaded bartender, reaching for a stool for protection.
The sound of a Harley rapped outside, the bar door burst open, and in walked Chicklick Charlie. “What the hell is going on?” Charlie demanded, seeing the melee and assuming that his biker brother had been jumped by the others. He moved alongside Norman, prepared to double his friend’s numbers. “Let’s go,” he said, tossing his black leather jacket on an adjacent table and raising his fists in a fighting stance.
“It’s okay, Chicklick,” Norman said, his shoulders drooping. “It ain’t their fault. I’m pissed. That bitch I saw a couple of times last month prances into my office today and announces she’s pregnant and plans to have the kid.”
“Oh, that’s it,” the bartender said, righting an upturned table before pouring Norm another drink. The other men got to their feet and patted Norm on the back. “Sorry to hear about that, man,” one heavy lumberjack added. “Same thing happened to me. I’ve been paying ever since. She’s never had a job and I’ve never seen the kid. She won’t let it happen.”
“I understand, man,” another burly worker on one of the local fishing boats said. “I’ll buy all the booze you can drink, tonight?but it won’t make you feel any better tomorrow, when she blames the entire mess on you.”
Norm and Charlie leaned against the bar and sipped at their drinks. “How long you known this chick, Norm?” Charlie asked.
“Went out with her a couple of times last month,” Norm replied. “She was okay, a wild woman in the sack, but real interested in my job and dedication to the kids around here.”
Charlie looked at his beer and thought about his own girl. Chicklick was slick and, in contrast to Norm, had never worked a solid day in his life. He had all the women he ever wanted, but none who ever wanted to stay. Charlie was too footloose and fancy free for that, though he was so good in bed that often the girls he saw sought more secure men to trap, while continuing to utilize Charlie’s bedtime talents long after they had snagged a home.
Charlie’s current girl was a friend of Barbara, the buxom ex-dancer who was making her move on Norm. Charlie’s babe was Raline, a former call girl (although she had never told Charlie) who was using the biker to enjoy a free home. She had never held a job, except to roam from man to man.
Barbara lived with a biker for several years, collecting checks from her first husband, living off the biker and pushing for a ring. The guy kicked her out when he discovered she was pregnant. After telling her for years that he had no intention of marrying her or having kids, she continued to push. As a last ditch effort, she let her birth control pills fall behind the bedstand and quit taking them. But the baby ploy didn’t work.
The biker, Bill, had offered to put her through school, but she didn’t take it. He offered her job training, but she preferred to shop, and not contribute to the home. And since she was a woman of the nineties, she had no intention of cooking, cleaning, or taking care of business at home, either. She had only one thing going for her?sex She had the body in the brick house category, but the mortar was crumbling. She no longer worked out after her brief stint as a dancer, a job from which she was fired for showing up late and partying early.
Raline wasn’t much different. She managed to get through high school and find a boy to propose marriage. That was the end of her efforts at a career. While her husband struggled to make ends meet and go to night school, she polished her nails and made demands on him. She wanted a home, a new car, kids, and everything the Jones had. Their union didn’t last long, as her 36DDs worked only a while, and they separated.
Bitching about a sour marriage and all the shit her husband denied her, Raline found herself rubbing elbows with Charlie while he was making a deal on the truck she took from her old man during their divorce. Charlie noticed no remorse in her eyes as she sold the truck to him for a fraction of its worth. Raline was in a hurry and wanted the cash.
Charlie himself never had a job, as such; instead, he spent his time building bikes and working deals. He had purchased a foreclosed home for cash and made life on his own, in his own way.
It was winter, and the fog hung on the dense redwoods like a cold blanket thrown on high spirits. “Listen Norm,” Charlie said, sipping a Seven/Seven, “let me check around. Don’t let this get under your skin just yet.” Downing the rest of his drink, he threw on his jacket and went outside to his Shovelhead.
The bar, Oil Can Chuck’s, sat less than a block from the winding Pacific Coast Highway. The roads were damp and a halo hung over each street light like a meter to the denseness of the fog. Charlie kicked over the stretched bike with the solo seat and highbars, then popped it into gear and headed up the narrow highway for the next town, where the girls lived.
The phone rang in the small apartment in Gold Creek, an old mining town north of Franklin. Raline picked up the receiver next to where she was putting on her makeup and cradled it on her shoulder so she could continue to work on her face. “Hello,” she cooed into the phone.
“Raline, it’s Barbara. I told him.”
“Told him what?” Raline said, pushing her deep cleavage up to expose as much of the silky flesh as possible, and powdering the mounds approvingly.
“I told him I was pregnant,” Barbara replied.
“Did you tell him it isn’t his?” Raline inquired, not really interested in the response, but enjoying the soap-opera exchange.
“No, why should I? He doesn’t need to know. He’s like all the rest, he wants to fuck around, but not take the responsibility. I thought because he worked with all those kids, he’d be different. But he just got real pissed and hung up on me.”
“Wasn’t rape was it, Barbara? Who enjoyed the fucking more, or was he lousy in bed?” Raline inquired into the receiver while fussing with her hair.
“No, he’s good, but it’s time he settled down,” Barbara responded. “Listen, what are you doing tonight? Let’s go drinking.” Rubbing lotion on her freshly shaven legs, her hands massaged the creme into her thigh and around her pussy where she trimmed it, pausing momentarily to touch herself. She caught her breath, admiring her legs.
“Sure, I’m getting ready now, but I thought you were pregnant.”
“Yeah, I am, and he’s pissed, so let’s party,” Barbara said. “What about Charlie? What’s happening with your relationship?”
“Charlie’s Charlie. He ain’t ever gonna change. But he promised to introduce me to a guy who owns the bike shop in town,” Raline said. “See, I’m looking for security in a guy. Charlie likes to party, but he don’t want no steady relationship.”
Barbara’s voice mellowed. “I was just talking to Gloria. She’s 24 and about to have her second kid. She married that Chiropractor who has the nice bikes. She’s got a new car, new home, two kids. Why can’t I get that?”
“Does she work?” Raline said rolling her eyes.
“Nah. She went to college for a while, ?cause her ma told here that’s where she’d get a man,” Barbara cooed into the phone. “She’ll meet us at the Palomino.”
“Doesn’t she have to look after the kids?” Raline inquired.
“Nope, she’s got a maid,” Barbara began to explain. “At least, I think she’s a maid. The two of them party a lot together. I wonder?.”
“See ya there in half an hour,” Raline said, hanging up the phone. She pulled on a new pair of fishnet stockings, and the shortest black skirt in her overflowing closest. Her black see-through bra was pushing her tits to the moon, and the satin and velvet vest-like bustier was buttoned to show an alluring line of flesh around her bellybutton to accentuate her narrow waist while tapering up to display her tits like two massive mounds of coke on a golden mirror in front of an addict. Her lips were full, her nose was fixed, and her dyed blond hair barely showed their natural roots. She was dressed to kill.
Barbara poured herself into the same action and trotted to the door. Gloria was already snug in a corner booth in the honky-tonk bar when the other girls arrived an hour late.
“I knew you two wouldn’t make it on time,” said Gloria, her shoulders slumped, her make-up askance, and her hair jumbled.
“What happened to you?” Barbara asked, slipping her tightly wrapped ass onto the slick, vinyl-upholstered, button-tuck booth, a relic from the fifties.
Just then, while the band was on a break, the women heard the pop of a big V-twin at the back door. “Must be Charlie, Barbara,” Raline cooed, glancing across the room at the owner of the local Harley shop. Charlie had promised to introduce her, and she knew the young entrepreneur’s eyes followed her every silky step across the dance floor when she arrived. She pushed her tits up in anticipation.
Charlie strode into the darkened room and scanned it for the girls, nodding to the dealer while peeling out of his leather and heading across the dance floor. Before he could reach the booth, Raline was on her feet and rushing to Charlie’s embrace. She molded her body against his slim form, and when the wet kiss lingered, he knew why he was getting all the attention. Raline purposely twisted Charlie 45 degrees in order to give the dealer a long look at the profile of her legs and ass.
“Introduce me, Charlie,” Raline whispered into his ear, along with a wet tongue. “I’ll take care of you later. You know I’ll always be your girl.”
Charlie was rigid. He had business to take care of, but with a glance at the table in the corner, he thought it best to handle the two girls at the table without a third cheerleader. Taking Raline by the hand, he introduced her to Ted, the handsome owner of the dealership. He then excused himself and headed back to the booth.
Sliding behind the table so he was facing the two of them, Charlie caught the last of Gloria’s plaintive wail. She had obviously been crying. “Barbara, the bastard kicked me out.”
“What happened?” Barbara asked, holding Gloria’s hand.
“He was always working, never had time for me,” Gloria whined. “I got bored and my maid and I started fooling around with the guy who came over to fix the Jacuzzi.” She started to sob. “He came home early yesterday and caught us all in bed.”
“Where were the kids?” Barbara asked, her eyes indicating concern, doused with a large dose of titillation. “I had hired another nanny to take them out. That sonuvabitch, after all I’ve done for him, I’ll sue him and be set for life. He’ll never see his kids again.”
“Let me get this straight,” Charlie said, interrupting the girls. “You’ve been with this guy how long?”
Gloria stiffened. “Six years, why?”
“You tell me if I’m wrong here,” Charlie said, straightening his narrow back against the booth and stroking his pointed goatee. “This guy put himself through school, married you, built a home, and a private practice, which he runs without your assistance.”
“I don’t want to be there and see all his young-girl patients,” Gloria said, interrupting.
He feeds you, your kids, your pets, and clothes the bunch. By the way, do you handle paying the bills?” Charlie inquired.
“No,” Gloria replied, shrugging. “But he gives me an allowance.”
“So he manages the household as well, and you don’t work, look after the kids, clean, or cook.” As Charlie said it, Gloria stared daggers at him indignantly, as if he had asked her to betray the female gender. “And I’ll bet you’re pissed at him, and make him handle his own food ?cause he works late.”
“I’m tired by then. Besides, I get a massage after I eat,” Gloria snickered. “Makes him jealous to see another man touching me.”
The steam was beginning to rise around Gloria. She had drawn herself up haughtily, when Charlie turned to Barbara. “And what’s your problem?couldn’t land the last guy, so you told Norm the kid is his?” Charlie glared at Barbara, who was trying to uphold the grandeur of feminine innocence while the biker berated her friend, who was now on the spot.
“I don’t have to put up with this shit.” Barbara squealed. “Let me out. It’s about time you all settled down and took some responsibility. We’re always saddled with the kids while you bastards run off.”
“You’re breaking my fucking heart, bitch.” Charlie snapped, their voices rising and attracting the attention of others around them. “Did your last old man rape you? I doubt it. And I know the level of undeserved respect Norman shows all the women he knows, because he looks out for rape victims’ kids, every fucking day.”
“Fuck you,” Barbara screeched. “I’m outta here. All you bastards can think about is sex. You get what you deserve!” She was almost pushing Gloria onto the floor to get past her.
“Wait just a fucking minute,” Charlie shouted, shoving the table to block her escape. “Sure, we think about sex. Look at the whorehouse way you’re dressed. And if sex wasn’t the only card you carried, what fucking use would you be to any man? You won’t cook, clean, or work. You won’t take care of business, and you’ll snivel about anything you can’t do, like carry something weighing more than a pound. And by the way, aren’t pregnant women supposed to avoid drinking?”
“You’re just a sexist bastard,” Barbara screamed.
“Does the kid belong to Norm or not?” Charlie persisted.
Instantly, Barbara looked away from Charlie’s penetrating gaze. “Well…” she began, hesitant and obviously flustered.
“Hey,” said a big dude from across the floor. He had been witnessing the melee and had decided to play chivalrous. “Is this guy bothering you ladies?”
“Not anymore,” Charlie said, springing to his feet. He looked at the tearful girls. “Both of you together can’t take care of this. You need some unsuspecting jerk to rescue you.”
The would-be hero was six inches taller than Charlie and outweighed him by a good 75 pounds. He drew back a massive arm, and Charlie could see his large biceps bunch up under the plaid shirt, as he was turning to face his assailant. Charlie blocked the punch and countered with a direct blow into the hero’s solar plexus. As the man doubled over, Charlie sidestepped him, saying, “Neither of them are worth it, man.”
Charlie exited the back door of the bar, as another stocky man came to the rescuer’s rescue. Charlie kicked his bike to life and straddled the machine, his heart racing and his mind whirling. He questioned himself, as well as society as he was raised to accept it, and his own freewheeling lifestyle. He wondered if he was all wet in the battle of the sexes, or whether there was a master PR movement to paint men as awful beasts. “What a bunch of horseshit,” he thought, dropping his bike into gear and burning out of the parking lot onto the highway heading south back to Franklin.
Inside the bar, the big man in the plaid shirt unbuckled his torso and rose to his full 6 feet, 4 inches while still gasping for air. Barbara saw his pain and embarrassment, mixed with concern for her. Or was it her cleavage sprouting above her top? She began to sob.
“You all right, Bobby?” the other stocky man asked, coming to his friend’s aid.
“What did the biker do to you?” Bobby inquired of Barbara, breathing through his nose like some tired bull after a rodeo competition.
“It’s a long story,” Barbara said, sobbing. “I feel so alone.”
Bobby slid into the booth beside her. “You’re not alone now,” he assured her. Barbara perked ever so slightly, but continued to cry. “I don’t get it,” Bobby said. “What can I do?”
Barbara leaned against him, lowering her shoulders so he was looking directly into her top. Her chest heaved, along with her tits. He could almost see her nipples as her 36-inch boobs withdrew from the insides of her vest, pausing slightly, then filling the top again. “He wants me to have an abortion,” she sobbed.
“That bastard!” Bobby barked. “I don’t believe in abortion. What the hell is he thinking?”
“He’s only thinking about one thing,” Barbara replied. “We’ve been together for years, and now that he’s got a new girl friend?uh, he wants to duck his responsibilities.” Stumbling with her story, she looked at Raline for support.
Raline turned to the other cowboy. “That’s right. She loved and took care of the bastard for years. He never worked. She stuck with him, and now that she needs him, he walks away.”
Barbara burst into tears as Bobby put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her head against his massive chest. “I wish he was dead,” she sobbed.
“I’ll take care of you,” Bobby said, feeling the softness of her chest heave against his. He sensed the warmth of her cheek against him, and caught the perfumed smell of her hair flowing down over her shoulders.
“I can’t stand the thought of him running to her arms,” Barbara said, running her hand around his waist, pulling herself more into his torso.
“Why don’t you guys go after him?” Gloria murmured to the other cowboy, who was beginning to make his moves on her. “We’ll wait for you here, and when you come back, we’ll go over to my place.”
“Yeah, maybe we can talk some sense into him,” said the short, stocky cowboy.
“He was going to see her in Franklin, Barbara sobbed. “But I don’t want you to go.”
“It’s okay. We’ll be back shortly.” Bobby said, squeezing her like she was some lost child. “I’d like to spent some time with you, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll wait right here for you,” Barbara said, opening her big, brown eyes and gazing deeply into his rustic face and deep-seated eyes, slightly red from alcohol consumption.
“Come on Sam, let’s go,” Bobby said, kissing Barbara gently on the lips and glimpsing again the silky mounds heaving in her skin-tight, short red dress.
The two men pushed out of the booth, headed for the parking lot…
March 25, 2010 Part 1
By Bandit | | General Posts
Hey,
This rapidly turned into the Sportster news special, or maybe not. I’m working on an article/guide on Sportster related products. Sportsters are the cheap avenue for anyone to jump into our lifestyle. You can buy a used or wrecked late model Sportster for between 3 and 5 grand. With the parts I will list from Paughco to Roland Sands, you can build a damn cool ride and enjoy the freedom of the once open roads for years to come.
Let’s hit the news. It’s wild, hang on:
IS HARLEY-DAVIDSON A VICTIM OF IT’S OWN SUCCESS– It’s no secret that business has been down across the industry, but especially among new heavyweights. But Harley-Davidson?s woes run deeper than just the recent recession, according to Richard D’Aveni, professor of strategic management at the Tuck School of Business at Dartmouth College and author of Beating the Commodity Trap. In an article for Forbes magazine, D?Aveni says the company could have seen at least part of its troubles coming.
?The long straight highway has had a few hidden potholes, and in those potholes commoditization has lurked in the guise of both cheaper Japanese competitors like Honda and sexy upstarts at the top end like Big Dog,? he writes.
D?Aveni says H-D ran into two of three forces that have led to commoditization in more than 30 industries he?s studied. They are: Deterioration ? cheap competition eating your market shareProliferation ? ?when companies develop new combinations of price and unique benefits to attack part of an existing market?Escalation ? when competitors like Victory offer similar or better benefits at a better price.
D?Aveni posits that H-D opened the door for Japanese competitors in the ?70s by resting on its laurels. After a management buyout in 1981, the company turned around by marketing its rebel image.
?This made the Japanese rivals’ advantage in reliability less important as an inducement to purchase and value motorcycles. Rebels care more for role models than reliability,? he writes.
He found that ?in 2002 Harley customers were willing to pay on average 38% more for a Harley-Davidson motorcycle than for a similarly equipped bike from one of the big four Japanese companies.?
But about that time, it crashed into proliferation, with competition from Victory, and smaller (albeit now struggling or even defunct) brands like Big Dog and American Ironhorse. At the same time, women were more likely to choose smaller, less intimidating and less expensive Japanese bikes.
?Harley was leaving money on the table compared with its American rivals because its service, level of customization and image weren’t as good as theirs,? he writes, and by 2003, ?Harley still had the largest share of the market (just under 50%), but the fact that Harley dealers were discounting to maintain their sales disguised the bigger problem. They were, in essence, buying market share with lower prices.?
Posted by Holly Wagner
Published on Bikernet courtesy of DealerNews: www.dealernews.com
I tend to disagree. It’s tough to manage big business and not miss a step from time to time. It’s also tough to change direction with any large ship. Altering course as times change is next to impossible, even in this highly communicative era. Harley has done a helluva job. They are still the only major American motorcycle manufacturer, while others have dropped off the map. They offer customer involved interaction with tradition and devotion to the American Way like no other product on this planet. Plus, every other motorcycle manufacturer has tried desperately over the last 15 years to mimic Harley’s success. That’s not to say they don’t rub me wrong from time to time.–Bandit
INSULTS WITH CLASS CONTINUED Sponsored by Republic H-D–“His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork.” – Mae West
“Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.” – OscarWilde
“He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts… for support ratherthan illumination.” – Andrew Lang (1844-1912)
“He has Van Gogh’s ear for music.” – Billy Wilder
“I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening.. But this wasn’t it.” – GrouchoMarx
–from Ray Russell
UNCLE MONKEY INVESTIGATES THE BIKE PROJECT BLUES–The thunder of Harleys, the whine of GSX-Rs. The sounds fill the night air as they roll up and down the streets or rocket around the cloverleaf, hunched over tight, farther, farther, faster, faster racing the imagination. The thrill, the excitement. The respect and awe. There is nothing better then getting out and riding. That is, unless you are standing in your garage staring at parts scattered across the floor, or where a bike use to sit as a functioning entity.
Being a motorcycle enthusiast means sometimes going without. From time to time our bikes break down (yes I hear you BMW riders, chuckle, chuckle). Sometimes we bite off more then we can chew, while performing mods. We have all stayed up late into the night with a simple half-hour job. Some weekend jobs transcend into month-long projects.
Some times life throws more at us than we can take. Money gets tight, and the wants fall to the way side. We drop the cable TV; eat Mac & Cheese instead of hamburger helper until we finally face the prospect of selling our bike. It is not something we want to do, but we’re faced to face financial hurtles or parish. Survival of the fittest. It is these dark times that prove who we are and what we are made of.
We sit on our front stoops listening to the sounds of the streets. The howl of a Ducati, the echo of a Twin Cam. It twists our insides. Our circumstances finally face dismal fruition. We don’t have a bike. We are not out riding. It fortifies us, a callus of emotional forms, and we vow that we will never let it happen again, Never will we let ourselves go without a bike again.–bad Uncle Monkey
Lehman Trikes’ Good Turn Trike program still open for entries–LEHMAN Trikes is once again running its annual Good Turn Trike award program. The program, which began in the mid-90s, converts the winner’s motorcycle into a trike.
The winner is the person chosen from the entries that, despite physical or financial means, continues to make a positive impact in the lives of others and illustrates the program’s motto of ‘One good turn deserves another’.
Applications are accepted throughout the year, and are available at Lehman dealerships and on the Lehman Trikes website (in the ‘About Us’ section), www.lehmantrikes.com. Applications for this year’s award must be submitted by April 3.
–from AMD club
THE BLONDE JOKE IN A VACUUM– A blonde was playing Trivial Pursuit one night… It was her turn. She rolled the dice and she landed on Science & Nature. Her question was, ‘If you are in a vacuum and someone calls your name, can you hear it?’ She thought for a time and then asked, ‘Is it on or off?’
–Jim Waggaman
OUR POLITICAL SYSTEM AT QUICK WORK–I recently received a slanted survey from a local California State Senator. I tried to fill it out then decided to include the letter below. Check it out, then see what happened:
Senator Jenny Oropeza
2512 Artesia Blvd. suite 200
Redondo Beach, CA 90278
Dear Senator,
Interesting questionnaire. I understand your dilemma. It’s tough, but I can’t fault the Governor’s proposal based on your question. That aside, I believe there are ways to save funds and freedom. Every time we pass a law that forms another controlling bureau it grows into an expensive monster. I believe in freedom and individual responsibility. I also believe that a number of regulatory agencies could be downsized if we embarked on a drive to implement education over legislation.
Education empowers citizens to make individual decisions. Right now, we encourage the public to remain uninformed and reliant on government to make decisions, and build regulatory agencies to control everything.
You may need to think out of the box to raise funds. I don’t smoke marijuana, but it looks like an industry that could save this country, if allowed to flourish. I think we need to find ways to afford freedoms, creativity, and innovation without restrictive costly agencies that hinder growth and business. I’m involved in the custom motorcycle industry. A large number of builders have quit building custom motorcycles due to the threat of smog testing and enhanced CARB regulations. Custom motorcycle account for little or no emissions in the grand scheme of things. So why not educate over increased legislation.
Just some thoughts.
All the best,
K. Randall Ball
Publisher
Bikernet.com
California Puts Legalizing Marijuana on Ballot–
Richard C. Paddock San Francisco Correspondent
SAN FRANCISCO (March 25) — California voters will decide in November whether to legalize personal use of marijuana and impose a tax that could raise more than $1 billion for financially struggling state and local governments.
California Secretary of State Debra Bowen announced Wednesday that an initiative known as the Regulate, Control and Tax Cannabis Act of 2010 has qualified for the ballot. Sponsors of the measure submitted 694,248 signatures, far more than the 433,971 they needed to win a place on the Nov. 2 ballot.
The initiative would allow anyone 21 or older to possess up to an ounce of marijuana and cultivate plants in an area up to 25 square feet. It also would allow local governments to regulate and tax the cultivation, distribution and sale of marijuana in their jurisdictions.
At the same time, the measure would prohibit the possession of marijuana on school grounds; outlaw providing marijuana to anyone under 21; and ban smoking marijuana in public or in front of a minor. It would not overturn the conviction of anyone who violated marijuana laws before the initiative’s passage.
“It takes the cannabis industry out of the black market, out of the back alleys, and brings it into retail establishments,” campaign spokeswoman Dale Sky Clare said. “We can have safer communities by controlling and taxing cannabis.”
The measure is sponsored by activist Richard Lee, who contributed more than $1 million to the signature-gathering drive. Lee operates a medical marijuana dispensary and other marijuana-related businesses in Oakland. He is the founder and president of Oaksterdam University, which teaches students how to cultivate the plant and operate medical marijuana dispensaries.
The university, which is closely connected to the initiative campaign, is growing rapidly and recently moved its main campus into a 30,000-square-foot building in downtown Oakland.
California has long been in the forefront of the marijuana legalization movement. In 1996, voters approved Proposition 215, which authorized the use of marijuana for medical purposes and inspired similar measures in other states.
Since the proposition’s passage, hundreds of medical marijuana dispensaries have sprung up around California. They have contributed to economic growth in some communities — most notably downtown Oakland — but also have posed regulatory problems in others, particularly the city of Los Angeles.
The campaign over the legalization initiative is certain to be hard-fought and costly.
No formal campaign opposition has emerged, but opponents can be expected to argue that legalizing marijuana would result in greater consumption, exposure to second-hand smoke, increased automobile and industrial accidents and reduced academic achievement.
There may also be some who argue that the initiative does not go far enough because it limits legal use to adults, doesn’t free those now in jail for marijuana offenses, and could create a system of patchwork regulation by cities and counties.
Nevertheless, after decades of working to legalize marijuana, activists may finally have hit upon the right timing and approach to win over the general public. A Field Poll conducted last year found that 56 percent of Californians supported the idea of legalizing and taxing marijuana.
In part, that may be because state and local governments are desperate for cash. The state has been compelled to raise fees repeatedly at public universities, require state workers to take unpaid furloughs and begin releasing inmates from overcrowded prisons.
“There are voters across every demographic group who are not necessarily pro-pot, but they understand the present system is not working and are well aware that California could use an extra billion bucks a year,” said Dan Newman, a strategist with the campaign. “The combination of the current marijuana laws not working and the disastrous fiscal situation has created a situation where many people see this as a commonplace reform.”
Supporters of the measure hope to raise as much as $10 million to win passage of the measure, Newman said. The campaign in support of the initiative kicked off the first day by issuing a statement that included backing from retired law enforcement officers and a judge from conservative Orange County.
“I’ve been on the front lines of the drug war for three decades, and I know from experience that the current approach is simply not working,” said retired Superior Court Judge James P. Gray. “Controlling marijuana with regulations similar to those currently in place for alcohol will put street drug dealers and organized crime out of business.”
Marijuana would still be illegal under U.S. law, but supporters of the measure hope that the federal government would abstain from enforcing the law, as it is doing now with medical marijuana sales.
Clare, also the executive chancellor of Oaksterdam University, said the initiative would allow cities and counties to adopt a wide range of activities — or none at all.
An agricultural county could authorize large-scale marijuana growing to produce hemp, a durable fiber that can be used in making paper, clothing or rope. “Labor unions see this as an opportunity for tens of thousands of jobs,” Clare said.
Or a city such as Oakland or Berkeley could issue a permit to a bar or nightclub to serve marijuana rather than alcohol, she said. There also could be the equivalent of “dry counties” where the sale of marijuana is not permitted, although possession would still be allowed.
The campaign is drafting a range of model ordinances that local governments could adopt if the initiative is approved by voters, she said.
Clare attempted to counter expected opposition from law enforcement by pointing out that local authorities could tax marijuana to help train and equip police departments, among other expenditures.
“Right now, the profit margins are going to buy more guns for the Mexican cartels,” she said. “That same margin could be paid into what matters most to Californians: education, public health and public safety.”
BIKERNET OPENS MUSIC CONSERVATORY–I don’t know what got into me, but I have always wanted to learn to play musical instrument. Now we have a couple of young musicians living in the headquarters and we stumbled into an antique 1925 Wurlitzer piano. Then it turned out that a couple of Bikernet readers, Pablo and Anson Alexander, are active blues harmonica players, and I stepped up and bought one. Here’s the latest tip:
We ought to be neighbors. I have been playing the harmonica since high school. I play blues harmonica. I learned from a book I stole at the Racine public library. I checked it out every two weeks for a year. I decided if no one else wanted to read it then I would keep it. Library has never sent me an overdue notice.
I am going to guess you want to play blues harp. It is completely different than the Bob Dylan, Neil Young or Steve Earle sound. Blues harp is “cross” harp. The harmonica you play is the 4th note of the scale. For instance in the key of G you would play a C harp. In the key of C you would play a F harp. Key of E means an A harmonica. Using the fourth position note allows you to draw on the harmonica instead of blowing. This way you can “bend” notes for the minor or 7th effect. That is what gives the blues scale its mournful sound and wail. If you want the Bob Dylan sound then play a harmonica that is the same key as the song. Song is in the key of G then key of G harp. My favorite blues harp player is Junior Wells. He was from Chicago and really laid down a bounce with the harp. I can send you a CD if you want to check him out.
I have kept a C harmonica in my saddlebag for years. It has bought me a lot of beers in a lot of places. I prefer the Hohner Marine Band, simple harmonica with no scale tricks. With a Green Shure microphone and a Fender Deluxe amp it will sound like a saxophone in heat.
Damn you want to be a harmonica player, I knew I liked ya.
……………Anson
Hey Bandit,This is for when you get into the playin and down the road. You will want to do this on a old Harp at first. Don’t want to mess up a good harp. Most harp’s even new need to be dialed inCheck this out. http://www.angelfire.com/music/harmonica/mikesretuning.html Also goto Youtube and check out the video’s for tuning a diatonic Harmonica.
–Pablo
This may be the biggest and best Peel Back Pricing ever at K and G Cycles!!!!!–This week, we have everything you need to get the riding season underway — all at rock bottom prices. We have a wide variety of air filters to fit just about every configuration and style starting at less than $25.00!
How about a new oil filter? We have them for every make and model of VTwin starting at less than $6.00!
Check out the EZE Brake Bleeder system at over 25% off retail. This simple device makes one-man brake bleeding as simple as can be. How did we ever live without it?
Maybe it’s time to replace that old, beat up jiffy stand. We have two different styles available this week at over 20% off. In addition, we have peel back specials on shocks, grips, fenders, license plate holders, and much, much more. This week, K and G Cycles is offering over 40 products with Peel Back Pricing that simply cannot be beat!
Just drop by K and G Cycles at www.kandgcycles.com and “peel back” the upper right hand corner of the home page. Click on the graphic below and you are whisked off to the best deals on the planet. Peel Back Pricing deals change every week and we announce them exclusively on Bikernet.com and on our Facebook page. Stop by our page on FB and become a fan. We have added over 1,200 new fans in the last month alone.
Thanks to all our customers and Facebook fans for making K and G Cycles their one-stop online motorcycle parts megastore.
HANG ON FOR THIS ONE–While walking down the street one day a US senator is tragically hit by a truck and dies.
His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.
‘Welcome to heaven,’ says St. Peter. ‘Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we’re not sure what to do with you.’
‘No problem, just let me in,’ says the man.
‘Well, I’d like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we’ll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity.’
‘Really, I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in heaven,? says the senator.
‘I’m sorry, but we have our rules.’
And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a lovely green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.
Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.
They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar, and champagne.
Also present is the devil, seemingly a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that before he realizes it, it is time to go.
Everyone gives the senator a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises…
The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him.
‘Now it’s time to visit heaven.’
So, 24 hours pass with the senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They too have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.
‘Well then, you’ve spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity.’
The senator reflects for a minute, then he answers: ‘Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell.’
So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.
Now the doors of the elevator open and he’s in the middle of a horrible, barren land reeking of pollution and garbage.
He sees all his friends, filthy, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and moaning while more trash falls from above.
The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder. ‘I don’t understand,’ stammers the senator. ‘Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of trash and my friends look miserable.
What happened?’
The devil looks at him, smiles and says, ‘Yesterday we were campaigning…today you voted!’
–Robin Hartfiel
LE PERA SEATS ARE BUSY–Thank you for your E-mail and choosing Le Pera. We are experience ahigh volume of calls and E-mail. We suppose the riding season hasbegun. We will answer your e-mails as soon as possible. We are sorryfor the delay. Thank you for your understanding.
–Le Pera Enterprises
It’s good to hear our industry is clicking once again.Don’t ever let the bastards get you down.–Renegade
Back to the 50’s in the attitude toward motorcycle clubs– (SALEM, Ore.) – The Oregon Attorney General’s Office sent out a news release today stating that “A total of seven members of the North Valley Chapter of the Vagos Outlaw Motorcycle Club have been convicted of charges ranging from robbery and kidnapping to burglary and coercion.”
The statement from Attorney General John Kroger goes on to say how his office convicted a “Grants Pass-based outlaw motorcycle gang member” on charges of coercion and unlawful use of a weapon.
Now, is it a gang or a club? I don’t know the Vagos, but I know a lot of bikers who are having a very hard time with their civil rights these days, and the semantics are important.
Police and prosecutors are in a new time when words like “terrorist” instantly mean that a person loses their treasured Civil Rights, simply over a charge, an allegation. “Gang member” isn’t as bad, yet… but where does it end?
This is where the rubber of real Civil Liberty meets the asphalt.
There is no clause in the U.S. Constitution that states “Unless the person is wearing a patch on their jacket” that I have ever seen.
I know that these law enforcement officials, keen on the key words, play out their strategies and that 99% of the media in this nation knows not the first thing about this unique American culture, so they aren’t much help, simply parroting the words of law enforcement bent on seeing bikers removed from our streets.
There are many clubs that exist without excessive legal difficulties, but when motorcycles are involved, the term club frequently becomes gang when police talk about it, and it is a matter of legal maneuvering. I think this type of “news” from a state office looks an awful lot like propaganda when the facts are skewed.
I remember when my niece was in high school, cruising around with a few of her friends at night, and they were pulled over by the “gang unit” because there were six kids together in a car. A car that belonged to a girl’s mom.
The police use these terms out of context.
?Outlaw motorcycle gangs pose a major threat to public safety,? said Attorney General Kroger. ?This case put a major dent in outlaw motorcycle gang activity in Southern Oregon.?
Apparently they had an issue with a club member and somebody tried to steal a motorcycle. One person reportedly, “chased two individuals with a sawed-off shotgun.”
(Note: Since the story was published last night, ‘Badger’ Mark the Vagos club Spokesman for Oregon, told Salem-News.com, “The whole thing is over two years old and was about us finding out a convicted sex offender had made his way into our club and was kicked out.”)
OK, I wouldn’t want to be chased around by a pissed off biker with a shotgun, I admit that, but the way this story is laid out you would think they had just brought Charles Manson to justice.
Robbery and Coercion. Those are the crimes that the motorcycle club member in question was convicted of. No drugs, no Murder, nothing like that. The news release states that the conviction led to a 26 month (slightly over two years) prison sentence for 52-year old Richard Coelho. The AG says it was “the final case in a multi-year prosecution of the North Valley Chapter of the Vagos Outlaw Motorcycle Club.”
Years? And all they did was convict some bikers for apparently hassling one of their own? It doesn’t exactly fit the bill for public menace, based on the conviction.
The other Vagos who were prosecuted include 43-year old Chris Jorgenson, who was sentenced to 70 months in prison for robbery, coercion and burglary; 44-year old Chris Church, who was sentenced to 70 months in prison for kidnapping and coercion (two counts); 63-year old Gary Jones, who was sentenced to probation for coercion; and 52-year old James Lloyd, who was convicted at trial and sentenced to probation for robbery and coercion. 49-year old Jack Sanders, and 56-year old Bob Moore, who were each convicted of coercion (two counts), have not yet been sentenced.
It reminds me of another recent story where vast amounts of tax dollars were spent funding a tremendous list of Oregon police agencies that busted a drug dealer. Rafael Martinez Ayala sold meth ten times to narc cops, and made drug deals while his kids were in the house. He was sentenced to 269 months in prison. Taxpayers will pick up the tab for 269 months, more than 22 years of prison incarceration. Yet in the same timeframe, a couple who repeatedly harmed other human beings, children no less, who refused a lawyer, behaved disrespectfully to the judge, and left children with lifetime scars on their bodies and souls, will serve a sentence less than 1/3 third the length of Ayala’s.
Hispanics and bikers; huge lengthy sentences. A white couple that is extremely dangerous and abusive; a comparative slap on the wrist. What gives?
The public needs to realize that motorcycle clubs are as All-American as apple pie, whether people like it or not. Most bikers are U.S. military veterans. Many served in combat, starting with WWII, which is what launched the American biker movement.
Yet in the biker circuit are a whole bunch of undercover cops posing as bikers. They infiltrate these clubs, and if they were simply doing it to arrest people for illegal activity, that is one thing. But that is not what they do.
It seems the biggest goal of police intervention in motorcycle clubs is to incite problems between the various clubs.
I know for a fact that this is and has been taking place, and these are serious allegations. If the bikers themselves did anything remotely similar they would be arrested and face heavy charges, almost certainly on a federal level. Inciting violence is totally unacceptable criminal police behavior.
Some of these actions by police have resulted in clubs taking violent action against each other over the years. Police should not be allowed to do this. Being deceptive is a specialty of undercover ‘narcs’ and anyone who relies on deceit as their main tool reeks of dishonesty, and their word is stained.
Nobody writes about this because there is such a shortage of reporters who cross over in these areas of knowledge. Bikers are largely mistrusting of media, and I understand why. Sometimes though they need a break. I am not making excuses for breaking the law, that is not the point.
According to the news release from the Oregon AG, “Testimony established that the Vagos members considered themselves a 1 percent club, a reference to a 1960s claim that up to 99% of motorcyclists are law-abiding citizens, but the last one percent are outlaws.”
–Tim King Salem-News.com
Tim King is a former U.S. Marine with twenty years of experience on the west coast as a television news producer, photojournalist, reporter and assignment editor. In addition to his role as a war correspondent, this Los Angeles native serves as Salem-News.com’s Executive News Editor.
Continued On Page 2
5-Ball Racing Chapter 5
By Bandit | | General Posts
I’m smokin'. This is going to be a scrambled, heavy report, so grab a beer and relax. Just when we thought the Assalt Weapan effort was toast or in serious jeopardy, the gods of Stroker Motors stepped up. First we had a glitch with the frame and Paughco saved our butts. Then Berry Wardlaw called and announced, in somber tones, that he was faced with financial woes, and well, you know, trouble in paradise. I immediately spoke to Brett Smith at S&S and his team was on the case like ants on spilled ice cream. I was smokin' again, except that S&S doesn’t build a Panhead engine, or didn't at the time. We discussed a Shovelhead and a configuration for success at Bonneville with Eric and Scott from their racing department, but many things bugged me. How could I build a secret engine powered bike and write articles about it.
We started with Accurate Engineering, and I hated to switch mid-stream. Plus, this is the World Fastest Panhead effort. What the fuck? I went back to Berry, and he was dedicated to the project. I told him to stand tall, with his right hand in the air and his left on a 120-Outlaw 45 caliber pistol, and swear to the gods of salt that he could deliver. He quivered and answered in the affirmative. Berry is one hard-working brother. He's pulling through the hard times, getting back on track and building the best classic performance engines in the industry. We were rockin' once more. But when would his engine be delivered?
Regarding S&S, I thanked them profusely and offered to build a bike around one of their motors next year and take it from start to finish throughout 2008. Suddenly we were back on track. But that’s not all. As you will see, we’re messing with sheet metal with the help of a local biker, Jeremiah, a talented construction worker with a passel of ex’s who harass him constantly. Rick Krost from U.S. Choppers came over recently and gave me a hand with some of the sheet metal efforts, and suddenly we were missing a plasma cutter and had to muster the cash to buy a new one.
Beyond the shop woes and adjustments, we constantly reach out for information, knowledge and insight into making this the World’s Fastest Panhead. A Bikernet reader, Rick R., recommended that I find the March issue of Hot Rod magazine and read their article on Wind Tunnel testing.
Here’s an excerpt: “… As any bench racer knows, if a car is running at its top speed, then to double that speed would require eight times the horsepower. More practically, to go just 25 percent faster—say, from 125 to a bit over 155 mph—requires double the horsepower. Or you could go faster without adding a single horsepower by making the car sleeker, being more friendly about inviting the air to step out of your way. That means getting familiar with aerodynamics…”
That’s what we were talking about. I remember standing on the salt and someone telling me I had to push my hp up five times to increase my speed, while I looked at a 50-cc, 130-mph streamliner. Something didn’t jive.
Here are some other tips I absorbed from the article:
“Lower the ride height. Dropping the car front or rear will reduce drag.
Block the grill: Always get air around a car rather that through it. It also reduces lift.
“Add a front air dam: Keeping air out from under the car both reduces drag and neutralizes lift for solid aero gains.”
Rick Krost also sent me the following golf ball article, which basically explained how dimpling golfballs reduced drag and allowed them to fly faster and more efficiently. But it also pointed out how the shape of a wing far surpassed the round golf ball. Dimpling is not a factor, but on the other hand waxing a sheet metal surface to a slick baby’s ass smooth finish doesn’t matter at all. Here’s what David Freiburger said in his Hot Rod article: “Contrary to what you may read on your favorite message board, well-waxed, smooth paint is no more aero-dynamic than the worst spray-can, flat-black primer job you can imagine.”
Says Rick, “Here are portions of the dimple article:This was brought forth from my favorite aerospace website. It was authored by Jeff Scott. This helps to explain the aerodynamic effect of dimpling on spheres, or as we know it, 'the golf ball theory.' It's pretty brainy, so the pictures tell the story…. for those of us who don't buy Playboy for the reading content. I believe we should employ a combination of these theories on the Assault Weapon.
You will have to bribe me with El Torito before I spill any more beans…….”
–Rick
While few among us can deny that golf is one of the least exciting of all spectator sports, we aerospace engineers are fascinated by its aerodynamics! Even the non-golfers of the world are familiar with the shape of a golf ball, like that pictured below, and have probably wondered why its surface is covered with small indentations called dimples.
The dimples of a typical golf ballBefore explaining the purpose of dimples, we first need to understand the aerodynamic properties of a sphere. Let us start by looking at a smooth sphere without any dimples, like a ping-pong ball. If we lived in an ideal world without any friction, the air flowing around a smooth sphere would behave like that shown in the following diagram. In this figure, the angle q represents position along the surface of the sphere. The leading edge of the sphere that first encounters the incoming airflow is at q=0° while the trailing edge is at q=180°. A position of q=90° is the top of the sphere, q=270° is the bottom, and q=360° brings us back around to the leading edge. Note that in this ideal situation, the air flowing around the sphere forms a perfectly symmetrical pattern. The streamline pattern around the front face, from 270° up to 90°, is the same as that around the back face, from 90° down to 270°.
(a) Ideal frictionless flowfield around a sphere and (b) the resulting pressure distributionThe lower half of this figure also displays the pressure distribution around the surface of the sphere, as represented by the non-dimensional pressure coefficient Cp. Positive (+) values of Cp indicate high pressure while negative (-) values indicate low pressure. It is the differences between high-pressure regions and low-pressure regions that create aerodynamic forces on a body, like lift and drag.
However, this ideal flow pattern tells us something very interesting. Notice that the pressure at the front of the sphere, or q=0°, is very high. This high pressure indicates that the incoming air impacting against the front face creates a drag force. Nonetheless, the pressure at the back of the sphere, or q=180°, is also high and identical to that at the front. This high pressure actually creates a thrust, or negative drag, that cancels out the drag on the front of the sphere. In other words, this theoretical situation tells us that there is no drag on a sphere!
Early aerodynamics researchers were quite puzzled by this theoretical result because it contradicted experimental measurements indicating that a sphere does generate drag. The conflict between theory and experiment was one of the great mysteries of the late 19th century that became known as d'Alembert's Paradox, named for famous French mathematician and physicist Jean le Rond d'Alembert (1717-1783) who first discovered the discrepancy.
The reason d'Alembert's ideal theory failed to explain the true aerodynamic behavior of a sphere is that he ignored the influence of friction in his calculations. The actual flowfield around a sphere looks much different than his theory predicts because friction causes a phenomenon known as flow separation. We can better understand this effect by studying the following diagram of the actual flow around a smooth sphere. Here we see that the flowfield around the sphere is no longer symmetrical. Whereas the flow around the ideal sphere continued to follow the surface along the entire rear face, the actual flow no longer does so. When the airflow follows along the surface, we say that the flow is attached. The point at which the flow breaks away from the surface is called the separation point, and the flow downstream of this point is referred to as separated. The region of separated flow is dominated by unsteady, recirculating vortices that create a wake…
In the case of a golf ball, increasing the speed is not an option since a golfer can only swing the club so fast, and this velocity is insufficient to exceed the transition Reynolds number. That leaves tripping the boundary layer as the only realistic alternative to reducing the drag on a golf ball. The purpose of the dimples is to do just that–to create a rough surface that promotes an early transition to a turbulent boundary layer. This turbulence helps the flow remain attached to the surface of the ball and reduces the size of the separated wake so as to reduce the drag it generates in flight. When the drag is reduced, the ball flies farther. Some golf ball manufacturers have even started including dimples with sharp corners rather than circular dimples since research indicates that these polygonal shapes reduce drag even more.
Comparison of flow separation and drag on blunt and streamlined shapesThe reason we do not see dimples on other shapes, like wings, is that these particular forms of boundary layer trips only work well on a blunt body like a sphere or a cylinder. The most dominant form of drag on these kinds of shapes is caused by pressure, as we have seen throughout this discussion. More streamlined shapes like the airfoils used on wings are dominated by a different kind of drag called skin friction drag. These streamlined bodies, like that pictured above, have a teardrop shape that creates a much more gradual adverse pressure gradient. This less severe gradient promotes attached flow much further along the body that eliminates flow separation, or at least delays it until very near the trailing edge. The resulting wake is therefore very small and generates very little pressure drag.
However, there do exist other types of devices commonly used on wings that create a similar effect to the dimples used on golf balls. Though these wing devices also create turbulence in order to delay flow separation, the purpose is not to decrease drag but to increase lift. One of the most popular of these devices is the vortex generator.
So let’s get to work. I don’t have tools for sheet metal fabrication or the training, so I reached out to Custom Chrome for support and the initial fenders and tank to work with. They stepped up and are now a sponsor.
I started by mounting the CCI tank that fit like a dream and contoured to the frame. The tunnel was deep so it set right down on the top tube. I asked our front end maker if he could tell me how far back the tank needed to be mounted to clear his RMD-manufactured girder front end. He started asking questions. He needed the following:
”Let me give you a little more to go on,” Leo said. “Front end fitment for custom bikes is a subject that you should do a article on. To make a front end work from a performance standpoint or from a safe yet perfect stance application is a matter of the front end coming into the picture last. If you ever notice how the bikes built by David Perewitz or Matt Hotch (although completely different ) have that perfect stance yet drive just fine its because they have the front end built based on real dimensions after some parts have been accumulated and mocked up.
“Here is a rough overview of steps for good measurements to help determine front end length and trail. We will deal with this based on a rigid because that's what we are working on. Mount the rear tire assembly in the bike or set the axle height in the frame at the correct height based on the tire diameter (the tire diameter will change based on rim width). Then set the chassis to the desired ride height. At this point,” Leo continued, “you might want to check and see if the axle adjusters are running parallel to the ground.
If not, you should figure approximately where the axle would be, based on chain length and power plant placement. Now that you have these things in place, rake and neck height perpendicular to the ground are truly measurable. As I stated, this is a simple overview but it help with any front-end project.”
A. ground clearance from the bottom of the frame to the ground______________
That's 3 inches.
B. From the bottom of the frame to the center of the neck _______________
Directly down from the neck, it's 24 inches.
C. rake_______
34 Degrees as Leo requested.
D. front tire diameter_________
Right now it's 24.5 inches, but if we shave the tires, it will be less, by maybe one-half inch.
E. no brakes on the front____________
Yep, no brake. This bike ain't about stopping.
F. Approximate neck diameter at at the ends____________
That was approximately 2 3/16 inches.
G. picture of the fork stop______________
Here ya go:
H. distance over bearings in fork cups ______
No fork cups
If any of this doesn't make sense let me know
Some, but we'll figure it out.–Bandit
With all the data in hand Leo sent me a sketch and estimated that if the tank was 2 inches behind the neck I was good to go. Unfortunately, I still didn't have a front end. The Custom Chrome 5-gallon unit came with all the mounting tabs, rubber grommets and fasteners. I worked on spacing, centering and it was as if they built the mounting system and tank shape for this bike. She fit right into place. Some serious mods to the tank are forthcoming, but we needed the basics in place, quick.
To set the rear fender in place the wheel needed to be centered with a chain and sprocket linked to the Baker transmission. We needed the 1-inch Doherty wheel spacer kit which is a lifesaver, but I ran into a problem. I dug out all the transmission plates I had for Softails and none fit. I called Jason at Paughco.
“What are you nuts?” Jason said. “You can’t run a Softail plate.” I ordered the right one and we are working with Paughco on a short tech on what plates fit what. I still don’t get it.
With the proper plate in place, our BDL closed-belt primary arrived and we could bolt up our inner primary and guess about the transmission location. We didn't have an engine, so Rick Krost of U.S. Choppers loaned me a gutted ’48 Pan motor for positioning purposes. I could finally jump in and get to work, although I was squeamish about sheet metal fabrication, but I had no time to lose.
I went to work on positioning the rear fender. With the help of Paughco brackets I built the Nitrous bottle mount and a plate to lock the rear fender in place. Rick came over one afternoon and we burnt through an evening making a plate to house the rear fender and Teflon buffers for the long chain.
Then I plasma-cut the 1/8-inch chunk of steel to support the rear fender and the back of the seat for Valerie. From time to time we called Nyla out of her office to test the positioning, since she’s a similar size to Valerie. She jumps on the lift between martial arts classes and gets in position.
Jeremiah, who has his Shovel at the Bikernet shop for various fabbed parts, has put in a lot of hours working the rear right plate with me, and last night we poured over the arched chunk of 16-gauge steel for the seat backing plate section. This area will also house electric components. We made a tool for bending that plate and still screwed up. It took us a couple of hours to get it close. Wish we had an English wheel. Need more sponsors, but we’re moving forward.
Lot’s of work ahead. Here’s my list:
Neck Bearings installed and measured for Leo—done
Belly Pan—coming up
Kick stand—we still need to figure something out
Rear fender—done
Nitrous mount—done
Fuel pump mount
Nitrous equipment mounts
Pipes
Top motormount
Seat pan
Bars
Tank gauge mount, move gas cap
I gotta knock it off. I can’t handle the pressure. We’ve also been going back and forth with the mysterious Rodan regarding the regs. I’m confused half the time, and natch we’re trying to push the limits in the open bike class. Joel, another Bonneville fan has also been quizzing Rodan as to the rules and his recommendations.
Here are the answers to your questions from Rodan, a SCTA official:
” Rear fender, wheel showing: The minimum rear fender is a flat cover that extends from the seat base of your frame to a point just past the centerline of the rear axle. Like a chopper flat fender. Just has to protect your butt from the tire tread. The max you can have in the open class is a, 'seat or tail section,' kinda like a tt bike seat. It can't extend past the back edge of the rear tire, and it can’t cover the sides of the rear tire or rim to the rear of the centerline of the rear axle. You gotta be able to see the rear half of the rear rim behind a vertical line through the rear axle. Same deal with the number plates, they can't cover up the rear half of the rear wheel.
Nitrous bottles up front? Can’t cover 'em up with a slippery cover.
“You can build the instruments into the gas tank as long as they don’t become a wind breaker/fairing for the rider.
“No belly pan, but you might get by with a flat plate that is the bottom of the frame under the engine. No added aerodynamic stuff at all in open class, and no items that direct air around the rider or the motorcycle.
“Think open, hahah. Yes, you can run a headlight, up to 7 inch. [Good idea.]”
–Rodan
Joel P. asked about down-turned handlebars and Rodan gave him the thumbs up. He also asked about my oil bag under the frame, but the frame is already very low so that’s not a consideration. Rodan gave him the old, “Think Open Bike” mantra again. Finally, he asked about shields around Valerie’s hands, but Rodan scolded and turned him down. “Even fancy gloves can be considered aerodynamic,” Rodan said.
One final thought on aerodynamics from the Hot Rod Magazine website: “Airplanes fly because of lift generated by their wings. Air moves faster over the wing's upper curved surface (as shown over the roof of this car) than the lower flat surface (the air shown under the car). The faster moving air creates a localized low-pressure area. With denser air underneath, lift is generated. Full-bodied production cars are shaped very much like an airfoil so they have natural lift. Good for an airplane, bad for a car.”
Hang on for the next report. We’re beginning to pick up steam, or nitrous.
Can’t Put Two Redheads In The Same Swimming Pool
By Bandit | | General Posts
Jake woke with a prison-cell start and rolled toward Jennifer. Her naked body, covered partially by a thin sheet and tumbles of dense auburn hair, shimmered with youthfulness and seduction. Her shape was a perfect hourglass turned on its side. She did something with time that was distant to him. He couldn’t figure her out. Trying to slip out of bed without waking her wasn’t successful. She moaned lightly, like a young angel, as he removed his 225 pound, six-three frame from the edge of the bed. She turned her classic features in his direction and opened her eyes softly. Her chocolate pupils would melt cast iron. Her expression was filled with wanting and sadness. “I’m sorry. I had too much to drink last night,” she whispered. ‘
“No problem,” Jake said, getting to his feet. He pulled his thick, shoulder-length, sandy-blond hair into a ponytail and tied it. His narrow hips held a pair of H-D boxer shorts as he reached for his Levi’s and cowboy boots.
“I won’t do it again,” she responded, shaking his head as he entered the small bathroom off her bedroom. Splashing warm water into his eyes, he thought about the fight the night before. She objected to almost anything he did that didn’t involve her. Feeling trapped, Jake stared into his bloodshot, sky-blue eyes and turned on the shower. He’d only known Jennifer for a month, but daily her hooks sunk deeper into his toughened flesh. The passion for her body was strong. They fit together well in bed, but her desire soon turned to fences, and Jake was reaching his breaking point.
“Honey, you’re not going out today, are you?” she called from the bed.
“As a matter of fact, I am,” Jake said into the mirror. She didn’t hear him, but felt the vibes. When he opened the door to the bedroom she lay naked, one knee resting against the other milky thigh. A light smattering of sexy freckles was waiting to be licked clean. His eyes followed her tiny, white-chocolate feet to delicate ankles along well-defined calves to those thighs. The top half was just as delectable as the bottom. From the soft nape of her neck, hidden seductively by mounds of red curls, to her supple, up-turned breasts and those sensitive, buttermint nipples, his eyes finally came to rest on her luring lips.
“How about some breakfast,” she said. She didn’t cook, but she did part her thighs slightly. Jake felt a pain in his chest, as if his torn emotions had come to life in the form of Brahma bulls. Each one was tied to an arm and headed in opposite directions. He wanted to make her happy, not disappoint her. He also longed for her sex, but something inside was sending red flags sky high.
“I’ve got to go. In fact, this relationship is moving a tad on the fast side. I need some wind in my face,” he said, pulling up his Levi’s and pulling on his roughed-out leather jacket over tight, sinewy deltoids. He worked out five days a week, until the new relationship interrupted his regimen. A lump formed in his throat. He wanted to pull her body to his and tell her that he’d be there for her always, but he knew in the marrow of his bones that wasn’t the answer. He swallowed hard and looked into her tear-filled eyes.
“I thought we’d spend the day together,” she pleaded. “Where are you going?”
“For a ride.” Jake said as he tightened his silver conch belt. He watched her movements. She was graceful, but so damn insecure.
“Have a cup of coffee with me, and I’ll fix you some eggs.” she cajoled.
“No, relax. Stay in …”
“When will you come back?” she asked, the level of her voice elevating.
“Listen, I don’t know if this relationship is …” As much as he knew what needed to be said, her eyes, those lips, and what she was pouring out twisted his guts.
“You can’t leave. My folks are coming over for dinner tonight.” She reached for him, but he stepped back.
“I can’t help that. I’m leaving.” Jake turned abruptly heading for the bedroom door, but she was out of bed, that perfect body moving like a young doe escaping the sound of gunshots. She slipped into a mint-green satin robe and followed Jake down the hall. Blocking the stairway with her body the robe fell open. “Don’t you know I love you? I know we can make it. Please don’t break it off so soon,” she pleaded, a tear creeping down her pillow-soft cheek.
Jake looked at her hard, his heart was melting at the sight of her form, the sadness in her eyes, the perfect auburn color of her hair cascading against the soft green of the satin, the gentle curve of her breast exposed behind the hem of the robe. He was crumbling behind his rough, unshaven facade. “I’ll be back,” he said. “I just need to air out for a few hours.” He acquiesced, and her eyes softened.
“I’ll be here waiting. We can make love this afternoon, and I’ll make reservations for dinner at your favorite club,” she said, beginning to cheer up.
Jake remembered one of their first dates in town at The Ivy. She shook the glass in the joint as they entered the dining room. Everything was picture perfect-the service, her dress, and her giggle after a couple of glasses of wine.
He put his arm around her tiny waist and pulled his body against the sheerness of her robe and the warmth of her form. She melted against his side, a perfect fit. But after a long, lingering kiss, she wouldn’t let go. The tears came again. Her over-anxious behavior was the main cause for several dumpings. Her actions became more desperate with each occurrence. Even so, something in Jake’s chest told him that he could make it all right for her. On the contrary, a pang of sense shot through his brain with the message that it wasn’t his job to solve this gorgeous girl’s problems.
“Will you be home for lunch?”
“No, but I’ll call you then and let you know when I’ll be back.”
“Please don’t be too much later.”
“I won’t, I promise.” he said trying to break her grip.
She followed him to the garage and stood nearly naked next to the bike, her robe falling completely open as the garage door opened and Jake mounted his lean blockhead. His 36-year-old ‘ eyes softly poured over her 21-year-old deliciousness. He questioned his emotions. Why not stay with her? She’s beautiful, intelligent, works hard. She flashed him as he pulled his Softail into the street and disappeared around the corner. He rode for a couple of blocks and stopped to gas up. Dismounting, he leaned against the handlebars and sighed. What the hell had he gotten himself into? He started humming Love, love makes me do foolish things, as he pumped the high-test into the fatbobs. He rode for a couple of miles, then stopped in a small outdoor cafe and ordered a cup of coffee and a roll. He needed to think. Less than a year ago he had divorced a redhead, then didn’t date for nearly the entire year, then Jennifer. He could still smell her sweet fragrance, taste her warm lips, and feel angelic flesh on his fingertips. But her consuming nature was way too much. His lungs felt tight as he attempted to breathe naturally. He struggled to free his body from the wraps of her affection, yet after a year the sex was unbelievable and he wanted it to go on forever.
He got back on the bike and headed for the hills. As he rolled through the streets he thought about his last wife, the road, Jennifer, and his freedom. He rode faster, until he was splitting lanes and squealing the tires when he left traffic lights. Soon he was on the highway headed into the San Jacinto Mountains, weaving past the weekend traffic into the pine tree-strewn hillsides. The crisp mountain air swept the scent of Jennifer from his mind. His conflicting feelings included intellectually knowing the relationship was doomed, poised against the tingling in his loins and his own need for female affection, but the road was talking sense to him. He had his own insecurities about his abilities with relationships, fired by his recent divorce. Two hours later he pulled into a gas station and refueled. New constitution coursing through his blood, he picked up the receiver on the pay phone and dialed. It rang twice before she picked up.
“Jake?”
“Yeah, baby, it’s me.”
“When are you coming home?”
“I’m not. I need some time …”
“Where are you? I’ll come and meet you,” she said anxiously.
“Relax, Jen. I’ll see you tomorrow. I need some time to think.”
“I miss you already. I want to see you tonight. Who are you seeing? What’s her name?”
“I’m not seeing anyone. I need some time to think about us.”
“Where are you?”
“I gotta go.”
“Wait …”
He hung up and went back to the only friend he had that never saddled him with demands, except for fuel every 200 miles. Jake rode for another four hours. As the sun set over the peaks, another 2,000 feet above him, he rolled into Idyllwild, a small, picturesque mountain community. He found his favorite escape lodge and went inside. The blond receptionist looked up and her tanned face glowed. “May I help you?” she asked. She had that nonstop, healthy California look. Then she recognized him. “How are you, Jake? You need a room for the night?”
“How about a quiet room on the edge of the mountain for the rest of my life,” Jake answered.
“Bad day?”
“Maybe a bad call.”
“Huh?” she said, watching him.
“Nothing. I just need some quiet time.”
“I understand. I’ve got a great suite for you away from the crowds,” she said, handing him the key. “If there is anything I can do, don’t hesitate to call.” She wasn’t only the receptionist – she owned the massive log cabin lodge and the adjacent cottages. Jake had come to know her when she took over the business and found financing for refurbishment. He was hired to handle much of the finish carpentry. He came to respect her for her tenacity and business sense. Part of his pay he took in trade, so he had a substantial credit at the inn. She was older than his last wife, and Jennifer, but she was obviously substantial in many aspects. He looked at her with respect as he signed his check-in slip.
Jake took his bedroll up to his room and unpacked. At one point he reached for the phone, then decided against it. He questioned himself, his feelings for Jennifer, and his past relationships. Confused and bewildered, Jake took a hot shower and went to the lodge for dinner. Sitting alone in the dining room, he studied the rustic architecture, the massive log beams, the rough but stylish furniture, and much of his own handiwork in the sideboards, which contained elegant white china, crystal glassware, and linens. Staring at a freshly tossed Caesar salad he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It was the owner, Virginia, walking toward him with someone slightly younger in tow. She was an inch taller than the five-foot-six blonde, but her hair was brilliant and red – redder than Jennifer’s amber locks, and straighter and finer. Her eyes were bright emerald green and her frame was narrow and sleek. Jake stood, his six-foot, three-inch frame slowing their advance. The redhead was visibly impressed.
“Jake, this is an old college friend of mine, Sheila. She just moved to L.A., and came out to visit. I have to work. Would you keep her company?” Virginia asked.
“Of course. It would be my pleasure.” Jake took her hand in his and felt her warmth penetrate his calluses. Their eyes met like two magnets coming dangerously close together. The attraction was obvious.
“I can see that no more introductions are necessary. I’ve got to get back to work,” Virginia stated flatly, spinning on her heal to leave.
“Please, sit down,” Sheila said as Jake held out a seat for the shapely redhead.
Jake studied her calves, feet, hands and thighs, before settling in with her wry smile.
“Like what you see?” she said seductively.
Gazing at her slim form, he didn’t believe what was happening to him. Her shimmering dress formed a snake-like image undulating in her chair. Her feet were long and slender, following into fragile ankles and narrow, doe-like calves. Satin cupped her thighs like a second skin. “Yes, you are beautiful,” Jake said, assessing her body once again. She reached under the table and gripped his thigh. Startled, Jake jerked, then relaxed as her hand moved to his crotch.
“How hungry are you?”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, why wait? We can come back for a midnight snack later.”
They got up from the table simultaneously and started for the hall. Before leaving sight of the lobby Sheila had her hand down the back of Jake’s Levi’s, grabbing harshly at his tight ass. He turned to face her in the rich corridor, and she pressed her slinkiness against his chest and lifted her face to his. He looked at her aggressiveness through jaded eyes and the tongue of a snake. He slipped his tongue gently, but forcefully, into the first of her caverns. She devoured him, her tongue a wild animal, her body blossoming against his, and her arms and legs becoming a sea of tentacles under his shirt, down his pants, and encircling his booted ankles.
He felt like he had an engagement with a vampire when they broke off. He was sapped, drained, and exhausted. She sucked him dry. The elevator doors opened. She moved against him, herding him into the elevator. Pressed up against the corner of the mirrored interior, he stretched to reach the buttons.
“Are you married?” she asked.
“No.”
“Engaged?”
“No.”
“Active?”
Jake paused, “No.”
Sheila stepped back abruptly, “Huh? What’s wrong with you?” she asked. Jake wondered himself. He was now passing up getting laid for the second time in the same day. He couldn’t believe his own ears. His mind swam against the downward swirl of a whirlpool. He wasn’t married, engaged, or anything. He had no commitments, stated or implied, but Jennifer …
“You’re not a homo or something like that, are you?”
“No.”
“Say, how old are you?”
“What the hell do you mean by that?” Jake said, his ire rising. Color flushed into his cheeks. His mustache seemed to twitch under his nose. The elevator signaled the floor.
“Must not be much in bed,” she said stepping out of the elevator. Jake caught his own image in the mirrored walls. The doors began to close. Going eyeball to eyeball with himself he realized that for almost a decade his attraction to redheads had been unrelenting. Now, in one 24-hour period, while trying to break the Jennifer spell, he fell for another scarlet bombshell. Yet he wasn’t convinced that the issue had reached an addiction level yet. Although Jennifer was making every attempt to enlist him in her corps permanently, he had not made overt steps toward any level of commitment. But, still, he was hammered with guilt. His image faded as the polished stainless steel doors closed, then something she said caught him, “Must not be much in bed.” He caught the door with one hand and shoved the stainless steel walls apart, and stepped into the hall in time to catch Sheila’s elbow spinning her into his arms. He crushed his lips against her crimson moistness. This time he took her wind. She staggered from the kiss, then stood bolt upright.
“Suppose I don’t need to ask about passion,” she said, breathing hard.
He slipped a muscular arm around her waist and pulled her hard to him as he slid the key into the door of his suite. “Not another word,” he said to her as he pulled her inside.
They awoke mid-morning, asleep in each other’s arms, in a ball of bedclothes at the foot of the king-sized bed. They made love again before they opened their eyes to the crisp morning sunlight. She left him on the floor, grabbed a robe, and disappeared into the head. Ten minutes later she bounded out of the bathroom. “I’m going to the pool,” she said, opening the robe to reveal the slinkiest bikini he’d ever laid his eyes on. “Come on down,” she said.
Jake watched her ass as she left the room before flopping onto the bed. A few minutes passed and there was a quiet knock on the door. Jennifer re-entered his consciousness. He sat bolt upright, the warm blood of lovemaking disappearing from his face. She knew that he loved this place and had credit. From pale he went directly to sweat-soaked. “Hello,” he stammered.
“Jake?” The soft voice crept through the door like smoke from the Old Witch Of The West creeps under doors to destroy all those who breathe it. Jake jumped to his feet, tossed the pillows back on the bed, grabbed a robe, and jogged to the door. Tentatively, he opened it a crack and looked into the hallway. Small feet in jet-black pointed high heels were aimed menacingly at his door. The calves associated to the shoes were shapely and slightly tanned. The skirt was official, although snug. The vest and blouse were professional. Jake’s forehead beaded with sweat, then his eyes caught the tips of blond waves. His heart was in his throat as his eyes met Virginia’s.
“What the hell?” he said.
“Thought for sure you’d need a cup of coffee and a muffin. Sheila help you relieve some of that pent-up stress?” Virginia offered.
“To say the least,” Jake said, opening the door.
Virginia left the food and said good- bye. Jake watched as she strutted efficiently down the hall. He tried to relax as he cleaned up and headed for the pool. As he closed the wood grain door to the room the phone started to ring. He paused with his hand on the knob and wondered who might be calling. It kept ringing. The options weren’t positive. He let the knob go and walked toward the pool. He felt good, but his mind was whirling with thoughts, emotions, and questions. Stepping out of the hotel into the pool area he felt the rays of the mountain sun caress his body. It felt soothing, rejuvenating, and momentarily it took his mind off of relationships. His eyes dilated as the sun blinded him. He couldn’t see the pool, but he had designed the decking with the panoramic view of the valley below, so he knew the general direction to the diving board. As his eyes began to clear he felt the heated fluid engulf his body as he dove and swam under water to the opposite end. Coming up on the other end he spun around, his back against the shallow tile, and wiped his face. Immediately, he felt the softness of a woman against his side. Lips touched his left lobe. “Surprise, baby.”
His mind froze as someone at his right grabbed his other arm, “Who’s that?” Sheila demanded. “I thought you weren’t seeing anyone.”
Jake shook his head. Jennifer was already in tears on his left while Sheila was trying to twist his upper arm out of his shoulder socket. “I said I wasn’t engaged.”
“Who is she?” Jennifer demanded.
“Jennifer, this is Sheila.” Jake stood and faced them both. “Sheila this is Jennifer.”
“I thought you loved me,” Jennifer sniveled.
“Who is this bitch, and what does she mean to you?” Sheila hollered.
“Hash, it out on your own,” Jake said before diving over backward and swimming to the deep end. For Jake, either end of the pool represented the deep end.
Jennifer turned toward Sheila. “We’ve been going out for a long time.”
“He sure didn’t show it last night,” Sheila retorted, her nose in the air.
“We’re going to be married,” Jennifer suggested, trying to muster enough confidence to convince Sheila.
“Hey, if you think that I’m going to give him up, forget it,” Sheila barked at Jennifer before diving into the water and swimming toward Jake. Jake was treading water underneath the diving board. An older, balding tourist held onto the tile railing and pondered the situation. “You’re not winning a popularity contest today,” he said, watching the redheads argue.
“I broke the Code of the West,” Jake said. “You can’t put two redheads in the same swimming pool.” Both crimson beauties were swimming in his direction.
“Phone call for Jake. Phone call for Jake,” the hotel squawk box announced. “Emergency phone call for Jake!” the voice continued.
Jake pulled himself from the banks of Red Shark Lagoon as Virginia bolted from the hotel doors. “You can take the call in my office,” Virginia said, throwing a towel over Jake’s shoulders as they entered the air-conditioned interior of the hotel. As she lead him into the spacious owner’s suite Jake was distracted with the clean, simple, yet elegant layout. Her office was organized and neat. She followed him in and shut the door.
“What line is the call on?” Jake asked, reaching for the phone.
“It isn’t,” she said.
“It isn’t, what?” Jake asked, bewildered. He noticed her neat bookshelf with various books on the area, historic books on building, and books on construction. She’d done her homework for the project, and it showed in the overall handling of it and the final product.
“There isn’t a call. I could tell you needed a time-out,” she said, her back to the door, hands behind her back holding the knob against her ass, her legs crossed slightly.
“Then what do you say we go for a ride?” Jake asked.
“I was hoping you’d ask,” she returned.