Iowa Hosts 2022 Meeting of the Minds by Amy Irene White, The Wicked Bitch “The Motorcycle Riders Foundation is chiefly concerned with issues at the national and international levels that impact the freedom and safety of American street motorcyclists. The 2022 MRF Meeting of the Minds was held in downtown Des Moines this year… and as the hotel block quickly filled and spilled over into other hotels, we all knew that this was one that would go down in history. The state of Iowa has always proven to be an integral part of bikerdom… from legends the likes of Dave Mann and Frank Fritz and Clay Johnson and Clean Dean Shawler, to the massive Freedom Park built and maintained by Iowa ABATE that lets freedom roar every Fourth of July in Algona.. its indisputable that the cornfields of dreams produce enough amazing bikers to fill a covered bridge.”

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I am a Biker and A Disabled Veteran. There are a lot of people who are as well, including Bandit, and most of us deal with the Veterans Administration for our medical treatment. This was promised to us when we enlisted and or drafted into the military.

 I have a close friend who is a Navy Veteran and he told me he was not allowed to sign up for VA because his wife makes too much money.

Some people say they are happy with the way they are treated, but most I have talked to are Not and the reasons vary.

Very High on the list is the amount of time they have to wait to get an appointment. Around 3 months in my area of Florida. There is a section of the ruling that says if they cannot see you within 30 days you can ask to see a doctor outside of the VA. Well that is another can of worms and leaves a lot to be desired as well.

The people who I have talked to running the treatment centers have told me they just do not have enough doctors and even if they could hire more, they have no space to put them. It is obvious that the answer is more facilities and or improve the system for them to see doctors outside the VA.

 Bikers are part of a brotherhood and do a lot of good for the community. The Veterans have a slogan Together Then, Together Again. There are numerous veteran groups, and clubs and clubs that have veterans in them. If these groups continue to work together things can be improves at the Veterans Administration.

 If you are a veteran, sign up for the VA even if you have outside medical insurance. The reason I ask this is that the more people who sign up the more money the VA can ask for.

 I was in that position for a good part of my life and did not sign up because I thought it would take treatment away from a fellow veteran who needed it. That is Not The Case and the Government Has Plenty Of Money To Improve Conditions At The VA.

 They show that to us every day by funding programs for people who are not citizens and or have not done anything to earn it.

 

Another Big Issue with the VA is their Disability Section. This is where Veterans apply to get compensated for disability they received while in the military and it goes from 10% to 100% depending on the amount of the disability. The best way that I can describe this agency is like doing business with a cheap insurance company after an accident.

This procedure has gotten so bad that there are lots of attorneys and other agencies advertising to help the veteran for a price and or a piece of their disability.

Luckily there are agencies like the Disabled American Veterans (DAV) who will do the paperwork Free Of Charge and Get Results.

https://www.dav.org/veterans/find-your-local-office/

 

Sometimes it becomes necessary to contact elected officials like our congressmen and women to get things done.

 

 

I and the other veterans in my area of Florida are very lucky to have Congressman Bill Posey. He advertises if a veteran is having a problem with a Government Agency to contact his office. I for one have done that numerous times over the years with good results, and so have the other veterans I have sent to him and the DAV.

Then there are things like being compensated for travel to the VA for treatment.

https://juliabrownley.house.gov/brownley-welch-introduce-legislation-to-update-travel-reimbursement-for-veterans/

I am requesting you contact your Federal Legislator and ask them to improve waiting times for Veterans to get Health Care, Disability Payments and Travel Pay plus any other issues that affects Veterans

By working together on this, We Can Make A Differerence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chopper Charlie was in a jam, he knew it. He stepped into too many dark alleys with the wrong guys. He told his old lady to pack everything she owned into her Buick Roadmaster station wagon and get ready to split.

Melanie did as she was told. A tiny, bubbly thing, as cute as a button, she stood by her man unless another man came along. Charlie wasn’t a big guy, maybe 5’8” but he curled 50-pound dumbbells and bench-pressed over 300 pounds. With skinny legs, tight biceps and a barrel chest, he worked in the back of a notorious bike shop run by a four-man 1%er club called the Question Marks.

With a thick mop of curly short amber hair, Charlie was on a mission to make something of his life, but he didn’t know how, as he cleaned the little machine shop for the last time. He knew the shit was gonna fly. The brothers were about to turn on one another and he would be smack in the middle.

The shop, located on the edge of downtown Daytona Beach was just a couple of blocks from the old Robinson’s Harley-Davidson brick building. The factory recently pulled the franchise. The dealership, one of the last remaining old school franchises hadn’t invested in the gentrification process. Times changed rapidly and they didn’t want to have anything to do with the costly upgrades.

The clubber shop down the street handled the chopper riff-raff and local FXR riders. Unfortunately, the 1%er club for the region was all Outlaws M/C and they didn’t cotton to any other 1%ers in the area. These four guys dodged a Hells Angel takeover in California and escaped to Florida. That wasn’t exactly the best choice. They could have lit in any number of low-population states in the Midwest without a problem.

Something about Daytona called to brothers all over the north who wanted action and fewer cold climes. It also called to brothers who never experienced beaches, ocean front and chopper life aside from Hollywood. Daytona, a strange place lured lots of brothers, who quickly picked up on the drug scene, the slimy streets, the bugs and humidity. It wasn’t Miami.

There was nothing slick about Daytona, except the race track, and the car crowd stayed mostly in Orlando. The houses in Daytona were cheap, run-down and rented by drug addicts. His girl, Melanie, abandoned by her addicted mom belonged to one of the four members. He kicked her out and she was glad. He was the most violent of the bunch and took it out on her on a regular basis.

She smiled and packed her meager belongings in the car she inherited from her dead mom, the drug whore from Oakland, who was never really her mom. She timidly returned to the Bay Area, picked up the car, paperwork, signed for it and split with just enough funds to drive completely across the country to the east coast to have her ass handed to her. Fatbob didn’t want her to own anything, so he would have absolute control. She had to go. There was always another stripper, or homeless drug addict he could torture.

She lived in the car for two weeks until Charlie, riding his high-bar flathead noticed her and offered her a place to stay. She immediately crawled into his bed and they became an item.

A week later, Bondo Juan, one of the four, the skinny Hispanic called Charlie to the front counter. “Fatbob wants to talk to you,” Juan said and handed Charlie the phone.

“Yeah,” Charlie said.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Fatbob said and petted one of his angry pitbulls. “Are you fucking my girl?”

“You kicked her out,” Charlie returned. “She was living in her car.”

“I don’t give a fuck if she was living in a dumpster,” Fatbob said. “She’s mine. You’re toast if you don’t send her home.” The short round clubber didn’t want her back. He was just fucking with Charlie because he could. He also chose to fuck with anything legit the club did. They were supposed to be outlaws, always living on the lam, stealing, taking money from strippers or selling drugs.

The phone went dead and Charlie set it back in the cradle. Bondo Juan, who was somewhat dark skinned with long wavy hair and little facial hair except for a dark soul patch under his lower lip, looked at young Charlie and lifted an angular jet-black eyebrow. Nothing was said, so Charlie returned to the back of the brick building under a single 100-watt bulb and a wooden bench where he rebuilt an old Tillotson carb for a customer he never met.

That night he rode his flathead chopper sporting an extended XA springer back to his small, single guest house pad behind a stucco home on the edge of town. Melanie kissed him as he entered and handed him a chilled Corona with a slice of lime. “Hi baby,” she said. She wore a set of loose overalls and nothing else. He reached inside the suspenders and down around her plump soft ass.

“Fatbob called today,” Charlie said and continued to be affectionate, kissing the soft-as-silk nap of her neck. He could immediately sense the cold tension rushing through her body.

“He wasn’t good to me,” she said, pulling away and looking deep into Charlie’s green-as-emeralds eyes. “I can’t go back.”

“Tomorrow will tell the tail,” Charlie said and it did. By noon he lost his job and another Question Mark showed up at the shop, Ringo who pulled a foot-long straight blade out of an engraved leather sheath on his side and followed Bondo into the back. He wore shades and an all-black vest. He looked like a biker hitman–all business.

Bondo Juan walked to the back, opened a tool box and retrieved a 14-inch long chromed crescent wrench. Resting its cool hard surface in his skinny hands, he stared at Charlie in a strange threatening manner, as if someone told him what he had to do. Charlie, meticulously reassembling a Panhead lower-end on a motor stand clamped to the vice on the tattered wooden bench turned toward the two menacing brothers. It didn’t look good.

“Fuck,” Bondo Juan said, slinging the large crescent wrench and slamming it against the bench. “Women,” He said. “You’re supposed to fuck them and take them back to their car. You heard what Fatbob said. You need to make a choice…”

“Fuck that,” Ringo said. “No choice, do or fucking die.”

That wasn’t all. Charlie received a summons notice in the mail yesterday. He was being subpoenaed for running drugs in Florida. He didn’t deal but helped another biker in an alley and it didn’t go well. The Man was also coming and he needed to move on, fast.

Charlie could tell this wasn’t going anywhere but to hell. Ringo wanted to fuck with him right then and there. He swiped the knife back and forth as if it was his weapon of choice and he wanted to get it done.

“Okay,” Charlie said gathering his tools and gauges.

“That’s not fucking good enough,” Ringo said preparing to strike with the large blade.

“I’ll take care of it,” Charlie spat and looked at the two 1%ers in the dark space. Everything was scary and cornered Charlie wanted out. He turned to his small canvas bag of gauges, micrometers and tools. The bench held an old vice in the center bolted to large 2-by-12 planks and supported by a thick steel plate under it, which was arch welded to the frame 30 years ago. He put his hand on the vice to unbolt the engine from his motor-stand. Juan erupted as if Charlie wanted something that didn’t belong to him.

“That belongs to the shop, asshole,” Bondo said and stepped forward distracting Ringo. He took a baseball stance with the crescent wrench and started to swing.

Charlie suspected that if he turned his back on the two, they might pounce. He was right.

Charlie looked at his old canvas bag from his service years and then past it to the wooden slat rear door with slivers of light penetrating the sketchy surface. He let go of the slick, greasy vice handle as if reaching for his bag, but just beyond it rested a seemingly harmless 3-foot chunk of galvanized plumbing pipe, except it was threaded on the ends, capped and filled with lead shot.

Charlie made it his with an odd, pipe threaded chromed cap on one end, which he brazed to a sharp triangulated brass piece forming a deadly point. The brass casting contained the form of a sitting Buddha less than 2 inches tall. He snatched it off the bench surface and pivoted, crouching as Juan swung the wrench. Charlie’s biceps flexed into action. The loaded pipe hit Juan in the neck with brutal force, breaking his neck instantly. The man’s dark eyes questioned as he attempted to reach for his neck, but it was too late.

Charlie repositioned his footing still crouching and brought his weapon back along his right side from the left swing and drew it into a thrusting position.

Ringo wasn’t trained and knew very little about knife fighting. He usually had the drop on his victims or attacked from behind, but he wasn’t afraid, a violent freak who usually had brothers holding down his prey. Stunned he hesitated, then lifted the knife above his head in a stabbing motion. Big mistake!

Charlie thrust forward at the taller man and drove Buddha’s spike into Ringo’s throat, let go of the deadly rod and turned left, capturing the knife hand with his left hand and punching his forearm with his right releasing the knife. He slipped it under his thick leather belt and returned to his plumbing pipe javelin and Ringo’s bulging eyes. He wasn’t dead, but the second jab finished him as if he was shot with a 12-gauge slug under his left ribs, just below his heart.

In less that 30 seconds he cut the Question Marks’ membership in half. With a shop rag he wiped clean his heavy pipe, grabbed his canvas bag, kicked open the always locked, 3-foot-wide wooden rear door and stepped out into the fading sunlight, rounded the corner, strapped the bag and his weapon to his chromed sissybar and returned to the scene long enough to get paid from the old, stained cash register and retrieve the engraved leather knife sheath with the Question Mark logo emblazoned to the side.

Charlie slipped his leather belt through the sheath, kicked his ’48 UL to life and peeled down the street to where he was destined to hook up with Melanie in a parking lot behind the Ocean community center as the sun slipped into the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic went dark. Without a word he followed her north on Highway 1 to Flagler, cutting east on Highway 100 to the 17 and into the lowlands.

They rumbled through 35 minutes and into the dark marsh areas out of harms way, without incident and she carefully maintained the speed limit. Charlie kept his distance and stared at the single bulb, limited lighting on the unlit dark highway bordered by swamp. Clamoring with gators, notorious, hard-as-rock armadillos crossed the dark highway with abandon, like miniature tanks slithering onto flat lanes to take out bikers.

Charlie’s mind ripped with thoughts of prison and death. He couldn’t ponder anything but dread, except for his temporary Nirvana and softness in the station wagon ahead, but he knew better than to trust. His only hope was escape the state as quickly as possible, but his peanut gas tank wouldn’t allow him to get any farther than 100 miles, before refueling.

That’s when the trooper’s light-bar lit up in an LED flurry of red, white and blue madness behind him. The bullhorn blared, “Pull off the highway up ahead.”

Charlie thought about the two dead Question Marks and the arraignment demand in his vest pocket. He couldn’t out run the cop unless on a suicide mission to hell. Melanie rolled ahead of him off the highway into an old dilapidated, independent gas station with limited lights, flickering fluorescents, rusting galvanized tin siding and a single bulb above the door to the office. The shop roll-up doors were closed.

Melanie pulled past the pumps and parked at the edge of the lot, but with easy access to depart. She twisted the wide review mirror, so she could monitor the action.

“Stay on your motorcycle with your hands on the bars,” the bullhorn barked, but the officer didn’t depart his cruiser. Charlie wore stained and tattered denims, his leather belt, that foot-long straight blade in the Question Mark M/C leather sheath with 1%er diamond logo added to the art. He wore a black T-shirt silk screened with the shop name and his tan canvas long-sleeve shirt and his old black leather vest over it. He also wore engineer boots with another stiletto blade tucked in a sheath with a stainless spring steel clasp pushed hard against the rim of the boot shank.

The officer was more likely than not, running his numbers for a stolen motorcycle. Ten minutes passed and Charlie began to fidget and shuffle his grease-stained boots against the stained concrete. It wasn’t the cop he was concerned about. It was the brothers, Fatbob and Bullet, both of which were 1%ers for over three decades.

Bullet, the leader of the bunch had a thing for not messing around. He was big, with massive arms and trained constantly. Nobody talked about him, but from time to time he delivered a satchel of cash to the shop but didn’t say much. He was the only one who seemed to have savvy and funds.

At 6’4” with long Viking blonde hair and driving a black, late model Lincoln, Charlie wondered what the hell he did, but it wasn’t drugs. Charlie knew the Outlaws M/C controlled the girls and the drug scene. He couldn’t figure it out, maybe he performed violent attacks and hits for the Outlaws. Perhaps that was the reason they were left alone.

The officer, a tightly dressed and pressed 28-year-old got out of the cruiser and approached Charlie from the rear. “Your tags have expired,” Officer Washington said rounding the motorcycle so he was between Charlie and the idling cruiser. “Do you have a license and registration?”

Charlie started to stand. “Don’t move,” the black officer snapped. “Where are the papers?”

“In my wallet,” Charlie said. “Can it get it?”

“Keep your right hand on the bars,” the officer instructed causally. Reach for your wallet with your left hand.”

“It’s on a chain,” Charlie said and the image of the Question Mark’s knife flashed into his mind. He sensed he was fucked. It was just a matter of time.

“Pull the wallet around front, slowly,” Officer Washington said and put his right hand on his 9mm semi-auto and moved slightly toward the front of the motorcycle, but he wanted to keep an eye on the station wagon.

Charlie carefully slipped his wallet free from his pocket using the brass twisted-link chain. The long wallet was engraved, “Live Free or Die,” with skulls etched into the leather. It was rounded from the stuffed contents, his ass and molded to his pocket.

The officer approached and drew a long, blued Mag Light and shinned it in Charlies face, studied his eyes, his grease-stained gloves and nodded for Charlie to slip off his glove and open the wallet. Charlie began to sweat.

Fatbob’s angry curiosity piqued when he called the shop and no one answered. He called Bullet and within 20 minutes the two cruised past the shop where the lights were still on and the OPEN sign still hung in the front door window. They cruised around back and two Harleys were parked in the lot beside the grubby brick building.

They pulled up behind the building where the rear door swung wide on rusting hinges.

The dense humidity didn’t help as Charlie handed the officer his license and the motorcycle registration. “Insurance?” Officer Washington asked, while eyeing the tattered and stained documents. He cringed. He liked everything tight and military disciplined. He returned from the Marines and immediately dove into the local police department.

Charlie looked up at the officer, sweat beading on his brow and cringed. He didn’t have proof of insurance. “It expired,” Charlie said.

“And your license is suspended,” Officer Washington said. “I need to call a tow truck.” He reached for the mike on his right shoulder.

“Wait,” Charlie said. “There must be a way.” He stammered and stared at the dilapidated tin gas station and the surrounding tropical shrubs, vines and trees ready to gobble it up. He thought maybe he could leave the motorcycle at the station, but nothing about it looked inviting. Then he noticed the brake lights flash on in Melanie’s station wagon. “Can I talk to my girlfriend?” Charlie asked.

“Stay put,” Officer Washington said. “I’ll talk to her.”

Charlie sat back down on his seat and put his ungloved hands back on the bars. His molded leather wallet hung at his side. His nerves were unfolding as he pondered the two Question Marks members coming for him, more cops and Florida prisons.

“Keep your hands on the steering wheel,” the officer ordered as he approached the 35-year-old station wagon. He kept one hand on his revolver and the other guided the massive flash light as it illuminated the rear of the dusty vehicle. It contained a couple of old suit cases, Charlie’s duffle bag and his canvas satchel of tools.

The light moved to the passenger seat. I contained a small cooler and not much else, and then he approached the driver’s window, which was down. He leaned slightly and Melanie looked up at him and smiled. She had the face of a 14-year-old child and her smile could melt steel.

The officer didn’t like the precariousness of the situation. He preferred to keep the action simple. One or two folks in their vehicle, tight and manageable. But Melanie’s smile took a modicum of dangerous edge off the situation. How could anyone be treacherous and have a sincere expression like that. He knew soft female reasoning was bullshit, but still a warm smile brought hope.

She handed him her license, registration and insurance proof. She contained no signs of drinking, drugs or abuse, just warmth and kindness.

“Thank you,” he said and backed away. “Stay in the car.”

Officer Washington strode back to his cruiser to run the paperwork, but this time he checked out Charlie’s bike more carefully. It was a ’48 UL flathead bobber. It wasn’t flashy, but it was classic. The tall black officer knew a little about bikes and suddenly dollar signs glistened in the chromed upswept fishtail pipes. Familiar with the tow yard crew, he knew the chances of the bike ever leaving with its owner.

Washington returned to his blinking cruiser with its rumbling 425 horsepower engine, the flashing LED light bar, the dash and flashing communication system and the crackling of the radio with constant reports. He requested data on the young woman with the kid’s face. Ten minutes later, she came back clean.

The tall man unfolded himself from the police car and started to walk past the motorcycle checking it out, then past the pumps, across the lot to where the Corvette powered station wagon was parked. He handed Melanie the paperwork and said, “You’re good to go miss.”

“But what about Charlie?” Melanie’s brow wrinkled into a frown.

“He can go with you,” Officer Washington said. “But the motorcycle is going to the tow yard.”

Charlie listened intently and reacted. “Wait, wait, can’t we discuss this?”

The officer left Melanie and returned to the pump more relaxed. “What’s there to discuss? I’m calling a tow truck. You can leave, but the motorcycle is going to impound.” He picked up the mike off his shoulder and called dispatch and was transferred to the impound yard who called a local tow-truck service.

The local tow truck driver was a skinny 28-year-old with a six-pack and a meth issue. He was less than 6-foot, pale as an albino, acme scarred face and hair that was little more than a wisp scattered around his alabaster skull. He climbed into his flatbed with a new, cold, 6-pack of Coors Lite when his radio clattered with the info about the motorcycle to be picked up about 40 minutes away.

Slimy Steve popped the top on a can of beer and drank nearly half of it. He finished off two lines of Daytona crude in the head of the gas station and was ready to rock, but something caught his attention, something that could save his ass. Seriously in debt with the Outlaws over his drug use and dealings, he used more than his fair share and shared it with girls to enhance his chances. Without the meth his sexual encounters were nil. An ugly, scrawny, no-count sonuvabitch, he wasn’t worth the powder to blow him to hell, and the girls knew it.

But he recognized the pick-up address as the Outlaws distribution point and potentially their meth lab. He snapped open his phone and started to make a call. Just then a flashy black Lincoln pulled into the gas station abruptly and two biker thugs burst out of the sedan. One was a monster of a man, the other a long-haired, over-weight angry sort who drug a snarling, scarred, brindle Pitbull out of the passenger seat.

Due to the intense humidity, Steve’s windows were rolled down when his radio crackled. “Are you set to pick up the motorcycle at the corner of 17 and Fishhook Lane?”

Fatbob hauled ass to the tow truck at the corner of the lot under the lights. The short-legged diabetic yanked by the growling pitbull, stumbled. Steve noticed his flapping vest over the stained white T-shirt with the red swastika silk-screened in the center and the long- barreled, 44 magnum flapping in a shoulder holster.

“Where’s that goddam motorcycle?” Fatbob snapped trying to hoist his weak ass up onto the footboard. Steve was relieved, the dog couldn’t get to him.

“It’s up the highway, why?” Steve said.

“None of your fucking business,” Fatbob spat. Steve recognized another ugly piece of shit in the snarling 1%er. The guy obviously didn’t have a lot going for him. Steve didn’t recognize the little silver question mark badge on his tattered leather vest. On the other side a stained patch announced Vice President. But he did recognize the stained black with purple lettering 1%er patch.

“Do you know what kind of bike it is?” Fabob quizzed.

“I think it’s a Harley,” Steve said terrified. The meth drove his anxiety level through the roof. He downed the other half of the beer and popped open another can.

“When are you leaving?” Fatbob jammed him.

“Now,” Steve said nervously and turned the key on the ignition.

“We’ll see you there,” Fatbob said. “That motorcycle is ours.” Fatbob jumped down and tripped again. He was obviously in pain from his swollen ankles. The stocky fireplug of a dog pulled him toward the Lincoln.

As the flatbed pulled out of the parking lot and rumbled toward the highway, Bullet finished filling the sedan with high-test, no Ethanol fuel, went inside, paid the tab and then returned to the Lincoln with solid black leather interior. “What’s up,” Bullet asked.

“The cops pulled over our guy up the highway,” Fatbob snapped. “I know where, let’s fucking go.”

Steve grabbed his cell phone as soon as he rolled onto the highway. He hit his speed dial to the Daytona Outlaw boss.

“You have the cash?” the voice answered.

“Sorry no,” Steve’s voice trembled. “But…”

“I’m going to hang up,” Wolf said, a giant of a no-nonsense man with scars and long thick wavy hair and a massive beard. “We’re having church.”

“Wait,” Steve said. “There’s trouble at the station house.”

“Well?” Wolf inquired.

“I’m on my way with a flatbed,” Steve said and he swigged another half a beer. “I was called to pick up a motorcycle. Do you know the Question Marks? Never heard of them.”

Wolf was surrounded by members of the Daytona chapter of the Outlaws MC. They were more a family than some other gangster clubs. They looked after one another and didn’t fuck with citizens or bully other bikers. When they needed heavy work handled, they had a select number of members to call, otherwise they rode, worked on motorcycles and drank too much beer.

Of course, there were a couple of them who cooked meth and supplied the club with cash to keep their appearances up and parties strong. Sure, a couple more ran strip clubs and tattoo parlors, so they always had girls around.

Wolf thought long and hard. He knew about the Question Marks. They stayed out of the fray, but Wolf knew they would ultimately need to move on. The boss was some sort of badass, bill-collector for hire and they ran a small chopper shop in town. Bullet handled collections, but for loan sharks, some mob guys and Porta Ricans hired guys like him. He was seriously intimidating.

“How close are you?” Wolf asked.

“I’m just pulling onto the highway,” Steve voice shook. “It will take 40 minutes, but those other guys are hauling ass. They’re pissed off.”

“Okay,” Wolf said and hung up before Steve could ask what they intended.

Charlie was about to shit his pants. “Listen,” he said to the cop. “This motorcycle is all I have. Can you do anything?”

The officer, offered back-up from the station declined. He liked the solid ’48 flathead 74 cubic inch driveline. It was nearly all stock, except for the ratchet top transmission that allowed him a hand clutch and foot shifter. The bike was clean, but not fancy, no metalflake and lots of satin black with a little chrome, and those highbars looked as if they would fit his tall frame.

He didn’t want to get a bunch of senior cops involved, who might like the bike as much as he did. “There’s nothing I can do for you,” Officer Washington said. “The tow truck is coming.”

Charlies mind spun with nothing but negative thoughts. He was fucked. Without his motorcycle, he was a worthless piece of shit without wheels. “My girl is clean, right?” he asked.

“Yes, but…” the officers replied.

Charlie still had his tools in the back of the station wagon. “What if I could break the bike down and stuff it into the station wagon?”

“Well…” Washington started.

Suddenly, Melanie was at Charlie’s side. “Ya gotta cut him some slack,” she pled with the officer with her soft blue eyes. “Please. Charlie’s not a bad guy, just behind in his paperwork.”

Charlie wasn’t drunk and she didn’t appear to be abused. Washington, was young, sorta ivy league, and still had a heart. She was clean, cute, not over made-up like a stripper.

“Okay,” Washington added. “If you can get it loaded and on the road before the driver gets here, I’ll let you go.”

Charlie didn’t hesitate, but asked Melanie to back the car under the pump lights where he pushed the chopper and thought about how he could make this happen. He opened the tailgate and grabbed his soiled canvas tool bag which he reached into on the tailgate and sorted some tools in groups like screwdrivers, sockets, open-end wrenches, crescent wrenches and pliers, needle-nose and vice grips.

With the bike under the dim fluorescent light above one of the non-working pumps he flew at the project. He suspected, if he could dismantle much of it quickly, the officer might not change his mind. Plus, he didn’t have the slightest whether the tow-truck was near or far and how fast it was coming.

“Baby, can you fold the passenger seat down?” Charlie asked.

She immediately set to trying to find a latch. Buick Roadmaster station wagons were mini-bus long, heavy duty and fast. Who knew why Buick chose to build a station wagon that could outrun a muscle car while pulling a 30-foot vacation trailer?

Charlie removed all the controls from the handlebars, then removed the bars. Melanie fought with the seat latch and officer Washington came to her aid as Charlie removed the left rider peg. He wanted to lay it on the primary side.

That’s when the slick black Lincoln slid into the ancient station, cracked asphalt, parking area and Fatbob and his pitbull scrambled out of the passenger side. Bullet jumped out of the driver side as the big sedan vibrated and settled. He laid a 4-inch barreled .357 magnum on the roof of the car. The dog snarled and charged toward Charlie while pulling Fatbob.

Officer Washington stood bolt upright and yanked his 9mm Browning out of his leather holster and shot the dog between his eyes. The yelp could be heard for a quarter mile. Fatbob fell to the pavement and grabbed the dog as its split head bled profusely.

Washington re-aimed his weapon at Bullet who only hesitated because Washington was a police officer. Charlie yanked his pipe weapon from his sissybar and jumped into a defense stance. For uncertain seconds the only sound was the wind rustling through the surrounding Florida jungle. Other than the flickering fluorescent 4-foot tube and the single incandescent bulb over the shop office door it was as dark and foreboding as a Vietnamese jungle in the dead of night.

“Lower your weapon,” Officer Washington said directly. He had a military background, but still he wasn’t comfortable with this situation in the least.

“Don’t touch your mike,” Bullet said and held fast his loaded and cocked revolver laying over the roof of the car.

“I can explain,” Charlie said and watched Fatbob stand his hand dripping with his dog’s blood.

“I’m afraid you’re way beyond explaining,” Fatbob said. “You’re dead and your motorcycle is mine.”

Charlie’s gaze shifted to Bullet. “Fatbob threatened me and sent his brother to do his bidding over Melanie, who that bastard abused and kicked out.” Charlie hated to be a snitch, even during this dire situation.

This was one of those moments, when everything could go wrong and Bullet knew it. Evidently the cop didn’t know about his two dead brothers and Charlie’s involvement. He also knew Fatbob, who always wanted trouble no matter what the odds were or the potential outcome. He couldn’t figure out how he survived this long without going to prison.

His outlaw spirit told him to win or die. He couldn’t just crawl back into the Lincoln and leave. Or could he?

“It doesn’t matter,” Bullet said. “We will always be coming for you. You could catch a break right now by leaving that motorcycle for us. Make up your fucking mind, take the broad and leave.”

Charlie was on the spot, again. The motorcycle or the girl. He faced that decision several times in the past but not at gun point. He tried to play the situation out in his mind. “Officer Washington said I could take it, if I could tear it down and load it before the tow truck arrived. It’s ready to be loaded, if you guys would give me a hand.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Fatbob spat and started to come for Charlie.

Officer Washington watched his chances of obtaining a classic flathead chopper slip away. He pondered his odds. The outlaw behind the Lincoln was as big or bigger than he was and was still holding the pistol aimed at him.

“Come on, guys,” Charlie said. “This bike is all I have and my tools. Just help me load it and everyone goes home in one piece.” He looked at Fatbob who still approached and suddenly pulled a knife. It was a folding unit, but a 4-inch razor sharp blade, which he snapped open with a flick of his wrist and lunged at Charlie. Charlie backed away slightly, just out of harm’s way and Fatbob followed.

Charlie had no choice, he stepped forward with the lead-filled pipe and swung it taking out the knife and breaking Fatbob’s wrist. Fatbob was boot tough and rattlesnake mean but was in no shape for a fight. He dropped to his knees, grabbed his wrist while writhing in pain.

“He didn’t need to do that,” Charlie said. “Get him to a hospital.

The radio in the officers car cried out for a response.

Bullet didn’t want to have anything to do with shooting a cop. His life would be over. More than anything he wanted to be far away from this situation, and he sensed more cops coming.

Charlie sensed the same. His life flashing before his eyes. “Give me a hand,” he plead with Bullet.

Bullet shoved the long-barreled revolver into his shoulder holster and scrambled around the car, but he didn’t come to Charlie’s aid. Charlie removed the front 21-inch 40-spoked chromed wheel with a star hub and brake drum. He set them alongside the station wagon and returned to the downed motorcycle. He couldn’t lift it by himself and hoist it onto the tailgate.

He heard a large click and the passenger seat folded down flat.

Bullet ran to Fatbob’s side and hoisted him up to help him to the blacked-out sedan just a few feet away. Officer Washington hadn’t holstered his weapon but moved sideways along the scene between the office and the pumps towards his cruiser.

Melanie came to Charlie’s side, “Can I help?”

“You may have to,” Charlie whispered. “There’s a .38 in my tool bag. Just bring me the bag quick and get in the car and prepare to lie down.

Melanie’s sparkle faded, but she moved quickly to the tailgate to retrieve the canvas bag. It was only 4-feet away, so she was back in a flash.

“Go,” Charlie said quietly and motioned her back to the car.

The boss of the Outlaws monitored all the police frequencies. He knew more about what was transpiring than any of the crew at the gas station. He gathered his band of toughs and military guys and headed out, but not by the highway, the backroads through the pitch-black swamps. They knew the dank roads like the backs of their hands.

He knew the cops would swarm the place quick, if they didn’t hear from Washington soon.

“Fuck you lowlife mutherfuckers,” Fatbob screamed in pain as Bullet engulfed his torso with massive arms and started to lift. “You little bastard, I’m not done with you and that whore.” He started to squirm and kick and with his free hand yanked his .44 and shot Washington before he could recalculate what was happening.

The hollow point slug knocked the young officer off his feet and he was dead before he cracked his head against the gray asphalt.

Fatbob at a fat 5’6” of angry blubber broke free from big Bullet and stood holding the flashy polished stainless steel cannon in one hand. The kick from the last shot almost sprained his other wrist and pain shot up his arm, but he was madder than a wounded rattlesnake and turned toward Charlie, desperately reaching into his bag of tricks for something.

“You’ve got to go to hell,” Fatbob said. “You killed two of my brothers, stole my girl and broke my fucking arm.”

Blonde Bullet knew all the scores. A 1%er since he was 16, he experienced it all. He broke free from Fatbob and rounded the cruiser. He wanted out and away from this place.

The band of Outlaws were on their way, screaming up shortcuts, back roads in the dark on six FXRs. They were armed and on a mission. Wolf was concerned about the outcome. He wanted to clear the area quick before his station became part of the fray. If he lost it, his chapter’s drug income of a half-million a year would be gone. He had to give it hell or die trying.

Fatbob lifted the weapon gingerly in the direction of Charlie who grappled in his grease-soaked bag for something. “You got it all wrong, Bob,” Charlie said trying to catch a free moment. Kneeling and fingering a myriad of sockets, wrenches and screw-drivers he finally felt the wooden handle of the stub-hosed .38, which hadn’t be fired in over 20 years. The brass shells were tarnished and held only standard lead bullets.

What Charlie said inflamed Fatbob. He hated to be called Bob. He hated everything except madness and violence. He yanked the weapon to shoulder height.

Melanie, peering over the back of the driver’s seat, saw it coming and rolled onto the floor of the wagon. That .44 magnum rocket would rip through the entire car if it was coming for her.

“Fucking bitch,” Fatbob snarled and yanked the blued Titanium hammer back as Charlie stood in the line of fire, dropped his Canvas bag and yanked the .38 free.

He knew he didn’t have time to aim, so he just pulled the trigger and hoped something would happen. The weapon was seriously old, with a chipped handle. The tarnished bluing and finish scratched, it bounced in his bag of tools for over 10 years.

The stub-nosed revolver, like cops carried since 1936 fired. The first revolvers were built in 1899 but with longer barrels. The bullet hit the pavement in front of Fatbob’s engineer boots and smacked him in the groin.

Startled and in pain Fatbob winced and tried to re-aim the stainless cannon. Charlie had just enough time to raise his weapon further. The ideal situation for a .38 was close range and this was less than 25 feet.

The weapons fired simultaneously. Charlie spun as if hit, but the bullet came so close he could feel it. It took out the driver’s sideview mirror. He was concerned about Melanie and followed the bullet to the side of the car dropping the .38 on his way. “Baby, he shouted. “Are you okay?”

He yanked open the door to see her tear-filled eyes gazing up at him. He turned to witness Fatbob stumbling backwards and trying to lift the heavy .44 again. The roar of open-pipe performance choppers filled the air as six Outlaws slide into the station.

Wolf saw the blood gushing from the hole in Fatbobs chest, slid right up beside him, yanked the pistol from his grip and pushed the dead man standing toward the Lincoln.

He eyed the situation and told two brother to help Charlie load the wagon with his precious motorcycle. Charlie consoled Melanie as she climbed into the driver’s seat unharmed. He kissed her forehead gently and turned to assist the members.

Wolf hoisted the dead Fatbob into the Lincoln passenger seat. “Take care of him and start another chapter of the Question Marks in another state,” he ordered.

Two other members loaded officer Washington in the trunk of his cruiser and drove it into the jungle. Charlie picked up his .38 dusted it off and slipped it back into his bag of tricks. As he turned toward Wolf, he heard the station wagon start and Melanie peeled out of the lot toward the highway.

“Let her go,” Wolf said. “She couldn’t handle this and I don’t blame her. Bad shit tonight.” They heard the wine of multiple sirens in the distance. “We’ve gotta move. Ride Rick’s FXR there, quick.”

The members cleared the scene completely in less than two minutes. Charlie was impressed and in a blur. He lined up at the back of the small pack of riders as they flew back into the dense Florida jungle.

The last thing Wolf said to Charlie was, “She won’t get far, we’ll get your bike back. You’re riding with us now.”

by Rogue 06-Oct-2022

“I am sadden to let people know that my friend Nicky Boots has passed away at his home in South Florida.

I first met Nicky when he worked with Billy Lane in Melbourne Florida. He was an excellent fabricator and custom bike builder. And to me a Good Friend.

You can find out more information about him on some of the Biker Build offs. I will try and get time to write some more later.

You can see Many Comments on Berry Wardlaw’s and my Facebook pages.”

https://www.facebook.com/berry.wardlaw

https://www.facebook.com/john.rogue.1042

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The 2022 MRF Meeting of the Minds was held in downtown Des Moines this year… and as the hotel block quickly filled and spilled over into other hotels, we all knew that this was one that would go down in history.

This year as they hosted over 400 bikers from all over the country, Iowa once again held her own, with a whopping 278 new members in the total of 820 in new memberships nationwide, and our very own Christy Gunderson bringing home not only Recruiter of the Year but also the Deborah Butitta MRF State Rep of the Year.  Congrats to the fantastic team in Iowa who made this all happen, and a special shoutout to one of the hardest working women in the MRF. You deserved it, Christy.

While Iowa dominates across the board in biker rights, she also boasts of another type of legend, the true heroes, in our two wheeled world… the Veterans. Of all the great classes and useful info and exchanging of hugs and laughter and ideas… one somber and surreal moment will shine forever in all of our memories.

Slider took the podium, and my schedule said he was introducing a speech by his brother, “The Price of Freedom” by Charlie ‘Chopper’ Gilmore. I saw him struggle with emotion as he introduced Charlie.. the brotherly love was written on his face. I felt everyone in the room go still and silent at what Slider said was to come. I was in awe… in a trance… everyone was… as Chopper took the microphone and told his story, his truth, about Vietnam.

Charlie was a member of the 101 Screaming Eagles… a 1st Lieutenant and Infantry Platoon leader. He is also the Chaplain for the Sons of Silence Motorcycle Club. His words carried a lot of weight on a lot of levels in that room that day. Patriotism was tangent in that meeting hall… everyone’s chest puffed… tears welled in their eyes… it felt like America yawned and stretched and came out of hiding, for that brief moment in time.

There were two very interesting new things announced that I would like to mention. Both of these things are going to be free of dues or membership.. which is always good news… and both are the brainchildren of people who always have interesting things on the horizon.

First off, speaking of legends… Jim Barr of ABATE Long Island is going to be teaming up with Double D at the Motorcycle Profiling Project for an all new National Council of Independent Riders. This amazing new project is JUST now getting off the ground so Jim has promised us an indepth interview in the coming weeks with all the deets.. stay tuned…..

https://m.youtube.com/channel/UCidoMWOIxH7nYRaEoFAS-Og

The second cool thing I learned is, Clutch is creating a new TED talk style YouTube channel, called Clutch Explains It. I felt a little bit ridiculous trying to explain Clutch Explains It..  and so, I wrote Clutch, and here is how he explains it:

In days past, a phone call, an email, or even a newsletter was enough to inform the public. As those methods grey like the hair in our beards, new technologies emerge that, if used correctly,  far exceed the reach we once depended on. So, my goal is to take advantage of those social media platforms to better inform  and educate our community.

I am a researcher by nature but also by trade and am constantly collecting information that will make us smarter, healthier, and wealthier and if shared would help preserve a community and lifestyle constantly under attack. Each episode will not exceed 15 minutes and will be “single issue” episodes. They will be easily searchable and shareable. Imagine educational TED talks for the motorcycling community. This will not be about mechanics, Club protocol or another biker news channel.

There are guys that are in that lane and do it well. The channel will cover philosophy, medicine, legislation, science, and law and all will be tied into how it directly affects you the biker.  A channel for the thinking person. For those that have watched as others create YouTube channels to enrich themselves and roll their eyes at the possibility of another biker looking to cash in, I can assure you of two things.

I will never ask for a subscription to be a part of this opportunity, and if I mention a product or service, there will be full disclosure of any financial benefit to me.  I am already doing the research or have lived the experience. It does no good for the community if that education and experience dies with me.

As we say here in Texas, ‘together we win’.”

 – Clutch.

On Friday night, there was a casino night held to raise money for the MRF. They raised $1500. Part of that was done with a few of the biker men dressing up in drag….

Now I know we have always had a flare for the theatrical, be it pink tutus or blow up dolls… but this event took it one step further. It seems there were actual drag queens hired for the entertainment.

A lot of people were shocked, some didn’t mind, some didn’t like it….

It definitely made for some interesting anecdotes around the bar the next morning.

My friend & I attended with said its the dawning of a new day for the MRF.

I just hope Kurt Sutter doesn’t hear about it and decide to call himself a prophet.

In conclusion, the MOTM this year was overall a huge success… when you factor in the struggle of the current economy, the cost of travel, and lingering Covid repercussions, it was a very impressive feat to put on and pull off such a massive conference. When it comes to bikers… Iowa ABATE proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that if you build it, they will come.

Never Give Up!
By Bandit with photos by Buck Lovell

“This tech will be amazing. I built this 1950 Panhead during the Covid thing, so we called it the Pandemic. We fought with a magneto for a year and finally slipped in a used automatic advance distributor and it started first kick, with a Mike Egan R.I.P. rebuilt M-35 Linkert.

We ran into another issue. The clutch dragged.

Who the fuck knows? After working on old Harley 4-speed clutches for over 50 years, I was blown away to find out so much about the bastards.”

READ This epic Tech with Photos only on Bikernet.com, Click Here…

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Find more Tech for your free use by visiting Techs & Builds Section — Click Here.

This tech will be amazing. I built this 1950 Panhead during the Covid thing, so we called it the Pandemic. We fought with a magneto for a year and finally slipped in a used automatic advance distributor and it started first kick, with a Mike Egan R.I.P. rebuilt M-35 Linkert.

We ran into another issue. The clutch dragged. This bike, a poor basket-case roller came with lots of trashed parts. It did have a belt drive of sorts designed for running in tin primaries. But the clutch internals were made up of stuff I had laying around the shop.

I had issues with the clutch arm pivoting across the top of the transmission and running into the plate under the semi-stock oil tank. Like I said, nothing was exactly stock or correct. I shaved the arm, re-drilled the cable hole and notched it to align with the clutch cable bracket mounted to the frame.

I felt safe with my modified clutch arm since the relationship was working in my favor. The shorter the arm the more pressure plate movement from the handlebar lever. Although, it could add tension to the lever. But lever seemed cool and pulled easily. We didn’t dig into the spring tension discussion much.

I watched a Youtube with Bert Baker. He pointed out that your pressure plate must move .070 for your clutch to disengage. He demonstrated with a completely stock late model Harley, which moved .088. My clutch pressure plate seemed to move .090, so I was golden in that respect—I hoped.

At first, when I dropped it into gear it would kill the engine with a jerk. I took the clutch apart, cleaned and serviced it. Slightly better, and when I adjusted it, it improved, but only a skosh. Now, I could ride it a mile before it attempted to pull me into the intersection at the highway—duck.

Buck Lovell received an assignment by the supreme Cycle Source staff to shoot the Pandemic for a feature. I needed to repair the clutch, pronto. It had to be a running, riding old Panhead or die trying.

Buck said, “Those belt drives heat up and the tension on the clutch increases.” Sounded good to me and we loosened the transmission and backed off the tension on the belt. He even brought over a BDL tool for measuring belt tension.

We also looked into a new set of clutch plates and another solution jumped out at us. BDL makes a complete Belt drive, clutch system for early Harleys, but that would fuck with the Pandemic patina. Barnett makes replacement plates and springs. Buck knew someone at Energy One and we ordered their set of fibers, steels and two tensions of springs.

We were careful to remove all the cable tension on the throw-out bearing before adjusting the pushrod. It must completely release, when the clutch is disengaged.

Although this is a dry clutch situation the directions called for a brief soak in ATF before installation. Okay, the new Energy One clutch system with reduced pressure springs didn’t do the trick, and I spoke to Micah McCloskey who is a master, traditional chopper builder and engine builder. He said, “You must find a Roger Ramjet R.I.P., clutch retainer plate. They still make them but call them clutch retainers.”

I went on the hunt and ordered one from J&P, which my mail person lost, and J&P sent me another one—thanks. I pulled the clutch apart again and took out the bearing support anchor springs and plate. I replaced the plate with the clutch retainer and three small clip rings, which were a bear to install. This plastic plate has three adjustments to prevent the clutch basket from moving with the plates preventing them from disengaging.

J&P directions called for only .018 to .035 clutch basket movement. My first setting was too loose. I turned it two more holes to the tightest setting and installed the clip rings. This immediately made a difference. I could pull on the clutch lever with the bike idling and it wouldn’t move when I popped it into first. But once I rolled down the street shifting into 2nd was still a chore.

I had a date to ride the Pandemic to the photo-shoot location about 15 miles away. I barely got to the top of the hill, and it started to run on one cylinder and died. I goofed with the sparkplug wires, and it came to life.

Low on fuel, I decided to ride into Deadwood and refuel. It died again and I got more aggressive with the sparkplug wires. It fired first kick and I rode it a half mile to the Dinosaur gas station and filled ‘er up. If it acted up again, I was prepared to throw in the towel, but it didn’t, and I started riding out of the winding hills toward the interstate.

The bike handled good and ran like a champ. The clutch was fine as long as I was in 2nd, 3rd or 4th. We took the shots and riding shots. Every time I kicked it, it fired, but I wasn’t done with the clutch.

I attended a 50th Anniversary party, celebrating the Fucking Asshole and the Dream Girl’s marriage with a bunch of AMCA guys riding stock Knuckleheads, Pans and Indian fours. They know their shit when it comes to these models. Charlie told me to drill out the fiber plates with a 25/64s bit to allow for more flexibility.

Mike Kane explained that aftermarket metal plates are stamped out and the rough edge can catch on the clutch basket rails. Cabana Dan, a Hamster who works on early bikes explained that when stamped the metal plates have a smooth edge and sharp edge. The smooth edge should always face out, and he agreed with Mike. The sharp edge should be filed or smoothed slightly.

That turned into my next move, and we tore the clutch apart again. We carefully filed each metal plate and drilled out the fiber plates. It worked like a champ.

Dr. Hamster said seriously after road testing the Pandemic. “So, each clutch adjustment gave you 5 percent improvement.”

Who the fuck knows? After working on old Harley 4-speed clutches for over 50 years, I was blown away to find out so much about the bastards. This tech is currently running is Cycle Source Magazine. Get your copy today…

–Bandit

Sources:

Baker Drivetrain

Barnett Cables

Energy One

American Prime

BDL

J&P Cycles

You don’t have to be a motorcycle enthusiast to visit here, but it helps
from https://soranews24.com

There are tens of thousands of Shinto shrines all over Japan and they come in all kinds of shapes and sizes. They also have a plethora of individual themes that visitors may want to visit for highly specific prayers such as scoring primo idol tickets or breaking up with a significant other.

For example, did you know that there are 17 motorcycles shrines that have been sanctioned by the Japan Motorcycle Association? Our reporter Mr. Sato sure didn’t and decided to check one out when he learned of them…which is strange because he’s never ridden a motorcycle in his life.

In fact, Mr. Sato is what’s known as a “paper driver” in Japan, which refers to a person who though licensed almost never gets behind a wheel. The irony in this is that even though paper drivers have almost no experience or confidence driving, they end up with pristine records and gold-class licenses identifying them as model drivers.

And so, Mr. Sato got his motor running aboard a train and then headed out on the highway via a bus and finally went looking for adventure in whatever came his way on foot.

And what came his way was the entrance to the Kashiwa no Mori Motorcycle Shrine, which was established on the property of BDS Co. Ltd., a company specializing in motorcycle auctions in Kashiwa City, Chiba Prefecture.

Upon entering the shrine precincts Mr. Sato saw four torii gates lined up in a row, dividing the shrine into four separate mini shrines. This was an unusual configuration so our reporter felt like he was in store for some special mojo on this shrine visit.

Beyond the first torii was a shrine dedicated to Motomu, the mascot of BDS. It was fitting in the sense that this shrine was on company grounds, but our reporter wasn’t sure why anyone would want to pray to or for Motomu, except maybe to give the rabbit a boost in the Yuru-Kyara Grand Prix rankings.

Next up was the main event, the shrine of all motorcycles in Japan. This shrine could be prayed to for a number of reasons such as motorcycle dealers hoping for good business, those hoping to get a motorcycle license, or anyone simply wishing to not bust their head open while out riding.

However, since Mr. Sato never touches bikes, there wasn’t really anything for him to do, so he moved on to the next one.

Clearly Kashiwa no Mori Motorcycle Shrine was looking to cater to a variety of interests, because through the next torii was a hole-in-one-shrine. This is where golfers can go to pray for a hole in one, or as we’ve seen before, pray not to get a hole in one.

Mr. Sato doesn’t really golf much either, so once again he shuffled on to the next torii gate which stood in front of a shrine where you could pray for family. Mr. Sato finally found something he had a direct connection to and decided to pray at this monument.

Like with a lot of shrines, on the precincts is a booth where you can buy items such as omamori charms and ema boards. They too were based on themes such as Motomu, motorcycles, and golf.

Not wanting to go home empty-handed, Mr. Sato bought a motorcycle omamori, but since he doesn’t have anything to do with those things he doesn’t really need any luck with them.

Instead, he decided to give it to his colleague Go Hatori. That Yamaha Tricity actually belongs to Go and has been affectionately called the “Hatoricity.”

Well, anyway… That omamori should at least help prevent Go from getting hit by a motorcycle while he’s out walking around everywhere.

Shrine information
Website at https://www.bds.co.jp/company/shrine
Kashiwanomori Motorcycle Shrine / 柏の杜オートバイ神社
Address: Chiba-ken, Kashiwa-shi, Kaneyama 771
千葉県柏市金山771

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GET RIDING With Bikernet.com, the World is your Limit. Click to see Travel Section on Bikernet.com — Read & see photos of Travel Stories, Travel Tips, Maps and Destinations. Make Bikernet.com Your One-stop Destination Online!!!

 

The Weekly News that matters – every Thursday on Bikernet.com

Click Here to get your weekly round-up on motorcycles and motorcyclists now

Halloween is coming up and we already have a terrific batch of Halloween girls coming your way from Barry Green.

Bandit is working with the factory, Markus Cuff and maybe Jon Kosmoski or Dave Perewitz on a story about gas tanks and paint.

Bill May, a longtime Bikernet Contributor and friend sent Bandit a “Why We Chop” story. Read the published ones for free, only at Bikernet.com

Bandit’s Books are now available on Amazon Kindle – find it by clicking here. Your own copy wherever you go. Featured below pic of Bandit’s first novel based on his own true experience of his stolen motorcycle and going after it. It’s finally reprinted and available for sale as an e-book and paperback.

Get a signed one when you join the Cantina. Refer Cantina details by visiting “Membership section”, simply click here.

 

Hey,

There’s an easy solution to all the renewable efforts, but it entails eliminating the doom. Take a community, a city or a fucking state and eliminate all access to fossil fuels or any fossil fuel products and see how it works. Bada bing, easy, squeezy. We will answer all the questions, quick. That’s the way sensible, intelligent folks would test a product or a notion.

A brother said recently, “It isn’t about the planet or saving the earth. It’s about control.” Okay, so what. We know what’s going on. We also know how to level the playing field, eliminate the doom. Then let everyone test their theories. Take fossil fuels away and see what happens.

Remember: You are never a denier if you are seeking the truth.

Let’s hit the news:

The Bikernet Weekly News is sponsored in part by companies who also dig Freedom including: Cycle Source Magazine, the MRF, Las Vegas Bikefest, Iron Trader News, ChopperTown, BorntoRide.com and the Sturgis Motorcycle Museum.

DIRECT FROM THE PRIME MINISTER–Euro energy crisis: A rare opportunity to
re-calibrate priorities?

At least one developed economy is waking up from an energy slumber induced by the obsession with climate change. The new prime minister of the UK is seemingly leaving no stone unturned in her pursuit of energy liberation by appointing climate-skeptic ministers.

Given the decade-long dominance of anti-fossil fuel policies in the Western economies, this monumental policy shift is nothing short of a great awakening, one that may have been forced upon leaders by an existential energy crisis.

The Russian war in Ukraine, the uncertainty with OPEC oil production, and the post-pandemic economic recovery have together created a situation that cannot be ignored anymore.

The political class has been forced to address the energy shortage. Sensible policies must be pursued and probably will be this winter if only out of a need to keep people from freezing to death.

–by Vijay Jayaraj
CO2 Coalition

2022 Biketoberfest Hit Parade: 1. Willie’s The Chopper Show, 2. Sons of Speed, & 3. the SOS KIRSH Lid

Heading to Daytona for Biketoberfest this year? The two things that are on every biker’s list is The Original Chopper Show on Thursday, October 13, 2022 and the Sons of Speed at New Smyrna Speedway on Saturday, October 15, 2022.

Thursday is the day to clear the whole schedule and just plan on being at Willie’s Old School Chopper Show from start to finish. This show continues to set records and blow minds.

The show is loud, cramped, fun, hot, and some of the coolest sleds you will ever see. The event includes beer, girls, bands, trophies, awards, and Roadside Marty talking trash to everyone. It’s over in a flash and then you’re sitting around wondering what just happened.

Sons of Speed races in New Symrna Beach, FL for Speedtober 2022 on Saturday, October 15, 2022 outside Daytona Beach, FL. The racing is held at the New Smyrna Speedway.

Sons of Speed features stripped-down bikes with pre-1925 American V-Twin engines and a steeply banked racetrack, that hearkens back to a wide-open, full-throttle, thrilling style of motorcycle racing.

One of the things I love about Sons of Speed are the people behind the bars and in the pits. You’ll see and have time to meet guys and gals like Billy Lane, Shelly Rossmeyer Pepe, Jody Perewitz, Jeff Cochran, Rogue, Dave Perewitz, and Dan Fitzmaurice.

Another cool thing that I ran across is the Sons of Speed 2022 custom lid by KIRSH Helmets. It’s a gem that you can take back with you as a memento of the event.

It’s cool, comes in the SOS colors with a SOS logo on the front. In addition, it’s manufactured with a high-tech fluid liner that provides an incredible amount of safety in case you have a dismount. It’s the best protection you can buy in a half shell.

These lids are available at the track or online at KIRSH Helmets – https://www.kirshhelmets.com/product/sons-of-speed-chm-1/

News Alert: Some events are cancelled due to the recent tropical storm.

THE OUTLAW CODE— True one percent clubs have history and tradition built by the members that came before them. True one percent clubs put the brotherhood first before family, friends, society and definitely before societies laws.

They are not 1%ers who become drug dealers, pimps, thugs, thieves, or murderers. They ARE drug dealers, pimps, thugs, thieves, murders, TO BE 1%ers. The crimes allow them the time, the money, and the freedom to be TRUE outlaw bikers.

–Z.C.
1%er

MIC GOVERNMENT RELATIONS REPORT–
A Welcomed Veto and Some Successful Amendments for PFAS Legislation

The MIC’s PFAS Working Group recently met to review the latest news about legislation surrounding the synthetic chemicals used in a wide variety of powersports products, and what the Government Relations Office has done to date. The team also considered next steps as it faces one of the biggest challenges to ever confront manufacturers, distributors, and dealerships.

CALIFORNIA
In one of the biggest states for powersports business, two bills directly affect manufacturers and distributors. Fortunately for OE and aftermarket powersports companies, California Governor Gavin Newsom vetoed AB 2247 which would have set up a PFAS registry for all products containing the chemicals.

Newsom did sign into law AB 1817, which prohibits, beginning January 1, 2025, any person from manufacturing, distributing, selling, or offering for sale any textile articles that contain intentionally added PFAS – except for textiles used for personal protective equipment or certain other regulated products. But the MIC GRO team successfully inserted an amendment that exempts off-highway motor vehicles from provisions in the bill. Previously, AB 1817 only exempted on-highway vehicles.

“This new California law does still apply to gear and clothing, so if you are not already working with your suppliers on finding alternatives to PFAS, you absolutely need to be. Know that starting no later than January 1, 2025, manufacturers selling products in California must use ‘the least toxic alternative when complying with this prohibition and…provide distributors with certification of compliance.’ “

– Scott Schloegel
MIC Senior Vice President

AND MORE PFAS LAWS IN MAINE
The MIC GRO sent a second letter on behalf of 104 powersports companies to the Department of Environmental Protection in Maine, requesting an extension to a PFAS registration deadline. The state recently replied, granting a six-month extension to the firms, stating: “The Department has determined that more time is needed to comply with the Subsection 1414(2)(A) requirements and that it is appropriate to extend the deadline for the submission until six months after the effective date of the Department’s finally adopted rule for the entities listed….”

“This provides some breathing room,” Schloegel said. “But member companies need to continue expedited analysis and testing of the products they sell into Maine, and be prepared by the modified registration date.”

–MIC

FRED KODLIN SPEAKS OUT–Kodlin Lowering Kits for 2021 and 2022 HD Pan-America (RA 1250) models

FEATURES AND BENEFITS:

• Made of steel with a black powder coating finish
• Easy installation which doesn’t require a modification to your suspension. No shock compression tool is required.
• Comes with installation instructions (download).

K66029 Kodlin 2-inch Lowering Kit for Pan-America models 2021-2022. Lowers the height of the Pan-America by 2 inches (50 mm).

K66031 Kodlin 1-inch Lowering Kit for Pan-America models 2021-2022.Lowers the height of the Pan-America by by 1 inch (25 mm).

Retail: US$ 99.99
Dealer: US$ 69.99

Note: Operation of the center stand can only be done by 2 people after the installation of the 2″ lowering kit.

Available at www.kodlinusa.com or from our distribution partners.

OLD SCHOOL! BATOR FALL AUCTION IS BACK…

And online! Let the bidding begin for more than 600 lots including classic motorcycles, unique memorabilia, hot rods and a huge collection of parts — all selling at NO RESERVE! Bidding starts October 19.

“We are featuring an incredible line up of Classic Motorcycles, Parts, Memorabilia, Jeff Decker Bronzes and even some cars,” says Glen Bator. “Classic British bikes and some really unique European roadracing bikes have just been added to the docket. A race -ready Kawasaki KR250 looks like a winner.”

“You can see all of the items coming up for bid on our website at:

https://batorclassicauctions.com

–from Dealernews

SONG PICK OF THE WEEK : The eighties high-energy boogie-blues legend

Song : “I Drink Alone”
Rock band : George Thorogood & The Destroyers
Album : Maverick (1985)
Lyrics by : George Thorogood

I drink alone, yeah
With nobody else
I drink alone, yeah
With nobody else
Yeah, you know when I drink alone
I prefer to be by myself

Now every morning just before breakfast
I don’t want no coffee or tea
Just me and my good buddy Weiser
That’s all I ever need

‘Cause I drink alone, yeah
With nobody else
Yeah, you know when I drink alone
I prefer to be by myself

Yeah, the other night I laid sleeping
And I woke from a terrible dream
So, I caught up my pal Jack Daniel’s
And his partner Jimmy Beam

And we drank alone, yeah
With nobody else
Yeah, you know when I drink alone
I prefer to be by myself

Yeah, the other day I got invited to a party
But I stayed home instead
Just me and my pal Johnny Walker
And his brothers Black and Red

And we drank alone, yeah
With nobody else
Yeah, you know when I drink alone
I prefer to be by myself

Yeah, my whole family done give up on me
And it makes me feel oh so bad
The only one who will hang out with me
Is my dear old granddad
And we drink alone, yeah
With nobody else

Yeah, you know when I drink alone
I prefer to be by myself
Yeah, you know when I drink alone
I prefer to be by myself

I drink alone

–Wayfarer,
D.J. and Music Editor
https://blog.bikernet.com
https://www.facebook.com/bikernetbiker

UN DECLARES– ‘We own the science’ & ‘the world should know it’ so ‘we partnered with Google’ to ensure only UN climate results appear in search requests.

The United Nations revealed that they “own the science” of climate change and they have manipulated Google search results to suppress any climate view that deviates from UN claims.

Melissa Fleming, the UN’s Under-Secretary for Global Communications said at a World Economic Forum event: “We partnered with Google. For example, if you Google ‘climate change,’ you will, at the top of your search, you will get all kinds of UN resources…We were shocked to see that when we Googled ‘climate change,’ we were getting incredibly distorted information right at the top…We own the science, and we think that the world should know it.”

Marc Morano comment: “As I wrote in my book, The Great Reset, the public health bureaucracy and the ‘climate community’ have become political lobbying organizations, and they are using ‘The Science’ to support their preferred policies—policies that dovetail with the Great Reset and advance the power of the administrative state.” The UN now joins Anthony ‘I am The Science’ Fauci in claiming ownership of science.”

–Marc Morano
Climate Depot

“I don’t get it. Who would ever trust anything from the UN? And who wants the UN to be in control of anything or any government? I say we pull the lease on their building downtown.”
–Bandit

THIS JUST CAME IN FROM THE TOWN OF LOWBROW— MEET EMMI CUPP AND HER 1973 HONDA CT90 “DREAMSICLE”

I came across the ugliest stock bike I think I have ever seen in my life, and of course decided I had to have one.

“I still don’t know why I wanted one, I just did.
It sat in the corner for a while until Pops basically told me if I wanted to build a bike, that was gonna be it.

I was actually pretty pissed, but in the end he taught me to see the potential…”

–Mikey Arnold

OPERATION GRATITUDE UPDATE–Volunteer today!

Operation Gratitude is excited to provide another wonderful opportunity for Volunteers to donate their time and energy to help us show our first responders how much the American people care.

Join us in Philadelphia, PA on October 25th and 26th, 2022 at Rivers Casino, where we will assemble 7,000 Care Packages for first responders. Come join us on the journey to say thank you to all who serve!

We are grateful to our partner CSX for sponsoring this event.

If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to reach out to me directly.

With Gratitude,

–Vicki Johnson
Director, National Volunteer Network

LATEST REPORT FROM THE NATIONAL MOTORIST ASSOCIATION—Does “Safety” Really Matter?

By guest writer Eric Peters

In several objective ways, new cars are less “safe” than cars built decades ago.

A strong statement. One that probably seems ridiculous, too, given all the “safety” features new cars have that old cars did not, and the fact that new vehicles must pass a battery of crash tests before dealers may legally sell them to the public.

But “safety” is a slippery thing.

An analogy may help get the point across.

Battleships were considered virtually invulnerable; they had some armor belts more than a foot thick. Then came naval aviation. And the air-dropped torpedo. One or two of these–a few thousand bucks each, maybe–could slide under a battleship’s armor belt (which generally did not extend below the waterline) and make short work of a billion-dollar capital ship.

How “safe” is the new car you can’t see very well out of because of over-tall headrests, up-high beltlines, and girder-thick roof support pillars vs. the pre- “safe” car that gave you an excellent view of what was coming at you from the side and behind?

Do anti-lock brakes encourage some drivers to tailgate? Does traction control encourage some people to drive too fast on slick roads? Have higher grip thresholds given people a false sense of security? Eighty MPH in a modern car doesn’t feel as fast as 60 did in the pre- “safety” era.

The physics hasn’t changed, just the perception.

The new car is probably (though not necessarily) more crashworthy, but which is more likely to be involved in a crash?

Much of government-mandated “safety” is reactive–it is all about making cars “safer” to crash. More survivable when you wreck. Airbags fall into this category.

It would probably be safer to avoid the crash.

That used to be the emphasis. It’s not anymore.

Less and less is expected of the driver. More and more is demanded of the car. Even to the extent of simple competencies such as parallel parking, which we have given up, is now in many vehicles handled automatically by a computer, which takes over and steers the car into its slot. The “driver” merely pushes a button.

One could make a pretty solid case that a person unable to parallel park a car alone is probably not a “safe” driver.

The car is expected to have skills and be aware. The driver, not so much.

“Safety” is also incoherent.

For example, on the one hand, the government makes a fuss about distracted driving and yet not a peep about new cars with so many distracting electronic gadgets. It’s a miracle anyone makes it a week without at least one fender-bender.

Pecking at a smartphone keyboard is an actionable offense. Still, it’s ok to fiddle with the car’s built-in touchscreen “infotainment” system, which in many new vehicles has Internet access and does pretty much everything (and sometimes, more than) a smartphone does.

It is probably not “safe” to drive with someone ringing a bell or flashing a light in your face. Yet most new cars have “safety” systems that do exactly that, in some cases incessantly and for no good reason.

The steering wheel vibrates like Titanic’s tiller as the doomed ship scraped past the iceberg every time a tire grazes a painted line in the road (Lane Departure Warning). A frantic red light flashes on the dashboard, and the brakes suddenly come on, jerking you forward without warning because another car 20 yards ahead is slowing down or a cyclist is off to the right (Collision Avoidance Mitigation/Automated Braking).

The presumption being you are too addled to anticipate, too slow-witted, and low-skilled to react appropriately and in time.

Maybe go back to pecking at the smartphone or fiddling with the LCD touchscreen.

Why not?

People think their vehicle is “safe” to drive because an Official Safety Inspector inspected it on a given day. The sticker on the window says the car is “safe” to drive! And probably it was. But what about three months from now? By then, the brake pads (or tires) that were still ok or “safe” as defined by the government have worn to the point of no longer being very safe at all.

And so many drivers assume it is.

Technically, the law requires them to keep up with the condition of their vehicle, to note whether the tires are going bald and the brake pads are getting close to needing to be replaced. But because the car has a valid inspection sticker, many people don’t bother until some event confronts them with the reality that the tires have gone bald or the brake pads are worn out.

In the pre-inspection era, people were motivated to keep track of the condition of their vehicles. Today, that responsibility is passed off to an inspector.

Which era was “safer”?

Older adults with arthritic limbs, slow reaction times, and poor vision are, by definition, impaired relative to younger people not yet afflicted with those woes of the aging process. Yet that form of impairment isn’t considered the “safety” hazard that having even trace amounts of alcohol in one’s system is.

There are no Senile Citizen checkpoints. And suppose a glaucomic geriatric blows a red light and kills someone. In that case, the legal consequences will usually be far less severe than those faced by a driver who didn’t blow a red light or into anyone but did blow a BAC above the percentage that arbitrarily defines “drunk” driving.

Which form of impairment constitutes the greater “safety” threat?

In many states, there are laws against dark-tinted windows. Ostensibly because it is not “safe.” Likewise, mandatory buckle-up laws. And yet, government workers (cops) are exempted from these laws. Is it “safe” for them to drive cars with dark tinted windows and not buckled up? If so, how so?

And if not, why are we hassled for doing the same?

“Safety” is in the eye of the beholder and the pen of the regulator.

“Well written, but if we abide by the Zero Doctrine, we must, must keep regulating until there are no freedoms left. The above is exactly the reasoning to fight Helmet Laws. Helmets especially full face now with entertainment and communication systems attached are notorious. And the perception is that the rider can ride faster and pop wheelies all day long because he’s wearing a helmet. Hang on!”

–Bandit

[page break]

Most of the stuff people worry about ain’t never gonna happen anyway.

Don’t judge folks by their relatives.

Silence is sometimes the best answer.

Don‘t interfere with somethin’ that ain’t botherin’ you none.

Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.

If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’.

The biggest troublemaker you’ll ever have to deal with watches you from the mirror every mornin’.

Always drink upstream from the herd.

Good judgment comes from experience, and most of that comes from bad judgment.

Lettin’ the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin’ it back in.

If you get to thinkin’ you’re a person of some influence, try orderin’ somebody else’s dog around.

Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll enjoy it a second time.

Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply.

Speak kindly.

Most times, it just gets down to common sense.

–Sam Burns

BRAND New Bikernet Reader Comment!—
Monster Twin Cam Race Engines from JIMS

https://www.bikernet.com/pages/Monster_Twin_Cam_Race_Engines_from_JIMS.aspx

Interested in a 120.

— Paul McPherson
Ftballump@cox.net
Roanoke , VA

SUPPORT GOOD TIMES—

To Understand the “Ghats” in India — Attached is a photo of me on my old cast-iron right-side gear shift Enfield Bullet – Splitting Lanes between fully loaded Trucks and Trailers and Tankers.

The Ghats are many times fatal to idiots who think it’s as good as any climb & slope they have done in motorcycle groups or SUV Clubs.

Another Photo from before we climb this “Ghat”

The Sign Reads in local language – “BEWARE: Leopards and other Wild Animals Can Collide. Please Drive Slowly — signage by a National Park”

Yup! That’s what I need on the Ghats. Drive more Slowly for the wonderful leopard to be a pillion.

Knowing me, I slow down for all animals and random people too actually. I watch out for injured dogs and cats too.

Check Out Our SALE Page for MORE GREAT DEALS!

Get These Items Now, Before the Holidays and While They’re Still In Stock!

ORDER TODAY!

BRAND NEW BIKERNET™ READER COMMENT–SAVE A LIFE COURSE

https://www.bikernet.com/pages/SAVE_A_LIFE_COURSE.aspx

This class was very informative and interesting. I strongly urge people to take this class. Valuable information was learned that can be applied in everyday life, not just at an accident scene.

The instructor was very knowledgeable and presented the materials that we were able to demonstrate for ourselves. Great class.

–Christy Severino
Hundees96@comcast.net
PBG, FL

I’ve been polishing the Harbor Freight motor, removed the retractable pull start to a manual wrap cord. Mounted and polished the 6gun Choppers Inc. Polished and painted open slash cut pipe.

Take care and have a great weekend.

–Adam Croft

NEWS FROM THE FULL THROTTLE– NEW MAGAZINE IS NOW ONLINE

OCTOBER 2022
FULL THROTTLE MAGAZINE

Click Below to View
https://www.floridafullthrottle.com/

NEWS FROM THE LAND OF LEGENDS–Bikes, Blues and BBQ’s

October 5th – 9th
Pig Trail Harley Davidson
2409 W. Hudson Road
Rogers, Arkansas 72756

ANOTHER New Bikernet Reader Comment!–STIMULATING BIKERNET WEEKLY NEWS for September 29th 2022

https://www.bikernet.com/pages/STIMULATING_BIKERNET_WEEKLY_NEWS_for_September_29th_2022.aspx

If it’s a choice of electric or walk, I think I will walk. Fuck electric cars and non-2-wheeled seeing machines. They are not motor vehicles.

— A.J.
Deland, FL

GREEN FEATURE BIKES OF THE WEEK—

–Sam Burns
Green Guru
Bikernet.com™

https://youtu.be/koJOLBZpIFc

–Paul Davis

CARELESS: Poll Indicates That Most Owners are Negligent in Securing Motorcycles From Thieves

October 5, 2022 – In a recent poll of 600 American motorcycle owners, only half of owners took proactive steps to protect their motorcycle from theft. The top two actions that respondents identified when asked how they protect their motorcycle were to have insurance and to remove the key from the ignition.

“Insurance is far from the best bet to keep a rider on the road. Sure, it will help reimburse your loss, but, obviously, it won’t get your bike back or prevent it from being stolen”, said Bruno Rimkunas, motorcycle security expert and head of business development for security device maker Monimoto.

“We all know that insurance can’t replace a vintage motorcycle or a one-of-a-kind custom bike. In many cases today, a local dealer doesn’t have replacement bikes in the showroom to get you back on the road. And there WILL be police reports, claim forms and sometimes a significant wait to recover from a motorcycle theft.”

“We recommend being proactive in protecting your bike every time it is parked,” he continued. “A good motorcycle lock is critical. Parking in a garage whenever it’s feasible, and using a GPS tracker like Monimoto if a rider chooses.”

About half of the survey respondents use some type of lock to secure their bike. Disc locks and chains are the most common. Respondents also see the value of a higher tech solution to motorcycle security, with 85% indicating that they would consider a GPS tracker for their motorcycle in the future.

Motorcycle Safety Measures : Top Responses

Q. What motorcycle safety measures do you take (or have ever taken)?

Monimoto’s security platform typically handles about 189 theft incidents each week, assisting motorcycle owners and police to recover stolen vehicles, and in some cases preventing thefts from occurring.

For riders considering a GPS tracker, Rimkunas offers some advice. “A device that’s not connected to the bike’s electrical system is hard to disable and easier to install. It should be hidden from the eyes of thieves and it should always be on, not requiring the owner to enable or disable the device every time it’s parked. And most important, it should provide frequent, accurate tracking of the stolen bike so that authorities can locate and return the bike to its owner.”

The Monimoto 7 uses the latest eSIM, 4G/5G IoT connectivity combined with a sophisticated backend and mobile app. It comes with an embedded, international eSIM card and is powered by two autonomous, long-life batteries, so it won’t drain the battery on a motorcycle or e-bike and never falls victim to a thief who cuts the battery cable. The device calls the owner within minutes when unauthorized motion is detected.

https://www.amazon.com/K-Randall-Ball/e/B001K8P510

–Bandit

1. If poison passes its expiration date, is it more poisonous or is it no longer poisonous?
2. Which letter is silent in the word “Scent,” the S or the C?
3. Do twins ever realize that at least one of them is unplanned?
4. Why is the letter W, in English, called double U? Shouldn’t it be called double V?
5. Maybe oxygen is slowly killing you and It just takes 75-100 years to fully work.
6. Every time you clean something, you just make something else dirty.
7. The word “swims” upside-down is still “swims”
8. 100 years ago everyone owned a horse and only the rich had cars.
Today everyone has cars and only the rich own horses.

–El Waggs

CNN Surprised By What We All Know: New Firearm Owners Are Heavily Liberal, Female, and Minority

As we’ve covered fairly heavily since the start of COVID times, lockdowns, pandemic insecurity, escalating crime, and the handcuffing of police put an afterburner on first-time firearm purchases. The last couple years have shattered all previous records for gun sales, but the story behind the story is a tough pill for The Left to swallow.

The anti-gun side of the body politic has always pushed a narrative that all those hundreds of millions of firearms in the U.S. are actually owned only by a small, extreme portion of the population that just keeps buying more and more and more guns

This was never anywhere near as true as they wanted, but the tide has shifted so hard since early 2020 that even left-wing media outlets are admitting the truth: record gun sales have been driven by first-time gun owners who are heavily skewed female and/or minority.

–By Jeremy S.
Truth about Guns

We’re excited to announce that the Recruit A Warrior Challenge is officially back! Start brainstorming — who will you recruit?

The Recruit A Warrior Challenge is a special chance for DAV members to win $1,000 by helping strengthen the ranks of DAV!

The rules are simple — copy and paste your personalized referral link below and share it with the veterans in your life through email, text or even social media. Then, for every new member you recruit by November 30, 2022, you will earn one entry into our drawing for a chance to win $1,000 !

YOUR PERSONAL REFERRAL LINK:
Member Name: Keith Ball
Recruitment Link: https://www.mydav.org/dav-membership?a=000176c0-a037-4099-a091-7b0ce638d8e6&r=

Plus, for each member who joins using your personalized link, you’ll also earn classic recruitment points, which can be traded in for gear and other rewards.

DAV is only strong because of members like you — and you’re our most powerful tool to ensure DAV stays strong for the veterans of tomorrow. We hope you join our Recruit A Warrior Challenge today for your chance to win $1,000!

Thank you so much for being a member of DAV, and good luck!

–Douglas K. Wells Jr.
DAV National Membership Director

HANG ON FOR THIS—Why Right To Repair and Aftermarket will fail in EV

News such as below would be one of the many reasons Right To Repair and inclusion of Aftermarket parts from various companies may not be allowed by any Electric Vehicle manufacturer.

NEWS: A 7-year old boy dies of injuries in an e-scooter battery blast in Maharashtra

The deceased, identified as Shabbir Ansari, was a Class 2 student. He died during treatment for injuries suffered in an electric scooter battery blast in Vasai area of Palghar, Maharashtra (INDIA).

It is not even a month since a tragic EV fire incident killed eight people in Telangana. On September 23, the battery of the e-scooter kept in his house exploded while being charged. Due to the explosion, the television set in the room caught fire. As a result, he suffered severe burns. At the time of the incident, the boy was sleeping along with his mother.

“Shabbir’s father had brought the assembled e-scooter from Jaipur and kept the battery for charging in the living room. Prima facie, the battery exploded due to excess heating,” the report quoting a police official said.

–Wayfarer,
Editor
https://blog.bikernet.com
https://www.facebook.com/bikernetbiker

–Adam Croft
Supreme Commander
Dime Bag Empire

Country Music Hall of Fame and Grand Ole Opry member Loretta Lynn has passed away at age 90. She died peacefully in her sleep early in the morning Tuesday, October 4, at her home in Hurricane Mills, Tennessee.

Throughout her 60-year career, Lynn achieved the highest level of success with over 50 Top 10 Hits including “Fist City,” “You Ain’t Woman Enough,” “You’re Lookin’ At Country,” “Don’t Come Home A Drinking,” “Coal Miner’s Daughter,” and more. Lynn also recorded legendary duets with The Wilburne Brothers, Ernest Tubb, and Conway Twitty.

The famous native of Butcher Hollow, Ky. amassed a staggering 51 Top 10 hits, garnered every accolade available in music from GRAMMY awards to induction into the Country Music Hall of Fame, and broke down barriers for women everywhere with songs like “Don’t Come Home a Drinkin’ (With Lovin’ on Your Mind),” “Fist City” and “Coal Miner’s Daughter.”

Thanks to the Oscar-winning 1980 film Coal Miner’s Daughter starring Sissy Spacek, Lynn’s story and songs were brought to an even wider audience, amplifying her impact on several generations of songwriters and artists in various genres including Jack White, with whom Lynn made the GRAMMY-winning 2004 album Van Lear Rose.

Throughout her 80s, Loretta continued to write new songs and, in 2016, returned to the charts with the GRAMMY-nominated Full Circle, the first in a series of critically acclaimed albums produced by her daughter, Patsy Lynn Russell, and John Carter Cash at Cash Cabin Studio in Hendersonville, Tenn.

She followed up with the seasonal classic White Christmas Blue (2016) and 2018’s GRAMMY-nominated Wouldn’t It Be Great, a combination of newly written songs and fresh interpretations of her catalog. In 2021, the American music icon released Still Woman Enough, a celebration of women in country music; her 50th studio album (not including her ten studio duet collaborations with Conway Twitty).

Still Woman Enough featured a title track co-written with Patsy Lynn Russell and a deeply emotional “Coal Miner’s Daughter Recitation,” commemorating the 50th anniversary of the release of Lynn’s signature song (October 5, 1970) and album (January 4, 1971).

LORETTA LYNN’S FRIENDS AND PEERS REFLECT ON HER PASSING

“Celebrating the life of Loretta Lynn. One of my highest honors was being joined by her and George Jones on a song I wrote called ‘Country Music Has The Blues.'”
-Billy Ray Cyrus

“The world has lost a treasured icon, and I have lost a friend of more than sixty years. I have so many wonderful memories of touring with Loretta, sharing stages all over the world, laughing together and admiring her strength and tenacity. She was one of a kind as a singer, songwriter, and human being. We are all better off for her having walked among us.”
-Bill Anderson

“I have lost one of my dearest friends and the world has lost a true treasure.”
-Brenda Lee

“We toured a lot with Loretta in the 1980s. She and Conway Twitty recorded our song (‘Spiders and Snakes’) as a duet which is still one of our favorite career highlights. She was County Music pure and simple. She’s irreplaceable and a complete original. Our hearts go out to her family. The Coal Miner’s Daughter is Heaven’s newest angel.”
-David and Howard Bellamy, The Bellamy Brothers

The Seventy 4 collection by Roland Sands is rugged, yet classic V Twin inspired riding gear built for the road at approachable price points. The performance attributes are understated while the looks are geared towards both casual and spirited riding.

RSD continues to push the concept of off the bike style with on the bike safety. Comfortable cuts, Subtle protection, classic silhouettes and attention to detail are highlighted by CE protection. Born and bred in Long Beach California, and the Seventy4 collection by RSD pays tribute to our roots. Every style in this collection name comes from a street or memorable location in our hometown.

V twin inspired designs, classic styling, approachable price points.

QUOTE FROM ROLAND SANDS, PRESIDENT, RSD:
“The Seventy 4 Collection blends V Twin heritage with modern construction for a perfect combination of style and function. Our unique main body materials utilize premium leathers, heavy weight denims, abrasion resistant fabrics and comfortable liners. Our goal is to offer excellent riding comfort and protection without sacrificing everyday wear ability on and off the bike.”

[page break]

Over the last several weeks, many mainstream news media outlets have claimed that hurricanes are becoming more expensive, more frequent, and more intense because of climate change.

The Financial Times reported that “hurricane frequency is on the rise.”

The New York Times claimed, “strong storms are becoming more common in the Atlantic Ocean.”

The Washington Post said, “climate change is rapidly fueling super hurricanes.”

ABC News declared, “Here’s how climate change intensifies hurricanes.”

Both the FT and N.Y. Times showed graphs purporting to show rising hurricane frequency using data from the U.S. government’s National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA).

All of those claims are false.

The increasing cost of hurricane damage can be explained entirely by more people and more property in harm’s way. Consider how much more developed Miami Beach is today compared to a century ago. Once you adjust for rising wealth, there is no trend of increasing damage.

Claims that hurricanes are becoming more frequent are similarly wrong. “After adjusting for a likely under-count of hurricanes in the pre-satellite era,” writes NOAA, “there is essentially no long-term trend in hurricane counts. The evidence for an upward trend is even weaker if we look at U.S. landfalling hurricanes, which even show a slight negative trend beginning from 1900 or from the late 1800s.” What’s more, NOAA expects a 25% decline in hurricane frequency in the future.

What about intensity? Same story. Explains NOAA, “after adjusting for changes in observing capabilities (limited ship observations) in the pre-satellite era, there is no significant long-term trend (since the 1880s) in the proportion of hurricanes that become major hurricanes.“ Bottom line? “We conclude that the data do not provide compelling evidence for a substantial greenhouse warming-induced century-scale increase in: frequency of tropical storms, hurricanes, or major hurricanes, or in the proportion of hurricanes that become major.”

NOAA indeed predicts a 5% increase in hurricane intensity by 2100, but no increase in intensity is today detectable. And the best-available science forecasts that the slight increase in overall hurricane intensity in the future won’t be because there are more intense hurricanes but rather because hurricanes overall will decline more than intense hurricanes (category 4 and 5). As a result, there will be a greater proportion of category 4 and 5 hurricanes than categories 1, 2, and 3.

In other words, the relative intensity of hurricanes will rise, even as the total number of hurricanes — and the total number of intense hurricanes — decline.

Why are the media spreading obviously inaccurate information, and not reporting the basic facts? Are journalists simply ignorant? Or is something else going on?

Evidence Of Deliberate Deception

The New York Times graph inappropriately cherry-picks data from the post-1980 period while the Financial Times graph misrepresents improved hurricane detection as rising hurricane frequency.

Is it possible journalists are just ignorant of current climate science? Perhaps some are.

But mainstream news media outlets have been covering climate change and hurricanes for the last 20 years. And the information on hurricane costs, frequency, or intensity is hardly hidden away. It’s been summarized in the IPCC reports, most recently in 2021. And NOAA even boldfaces its key conclusions.

“After adjusting for a likely under-count of hurricanes in the pre-satellite era, there is essentially no long-term trend in hurricane counts”?

If that is indeed what occurred, then Williams and FT are guilty of journalistic malpractice of the highest order. But there is little reason to think that’s what happened. NOAA makes its warning relatively early on its web page and repeats it several times. And FT, like everyone else, has been covering this issue for decades not years.

The Climate Alarmists’ War on Scientists

In 2018, John Podesta and his Center for American Progress launched a campaign of character assassination against leading climate and hurricane researcher Roger Pielke, Jr.

The final piece of evidence that journalists are aware of the fact that hurricanes are becoming neither more frequent nor more intense comes from the vicious war waged against the most important and most outspoken scientist in the field, Roger Pielke, Jr.

University of Colorado scientist Pielke, Jr. in the late 1990s literally invented the method of “normalizing” the cost of hurricanes to account for a rising population, buildings, and wealth as the factors capable of explaining all of the rising cost of hurricanes, which meant that he and his colleagues discovered that there was no evidence that climate change was so far detectable in the escalating costs of hurricane disasters.

Pielke, Jr. has for a quarter-century a strong advocate for strong action on climate change. But because his scientific work on hurricanes undermines climate alarmism, progressive activists and Democrats in Congress and the White House have vilified him. In 2008, the Center for American Progress, led by John Podesta, the former chief of staff to Bill Clinton and campaign chairman for Hillary Clinton’s 2016 presidential campaign, joined in on a shockingly vicious and personal series of attacks on Pielke, including falsely claiming he was funded by fossil fuel interests.

All of these efforts were plainly aimed at discrediting Pielke, Jr., to journalists. They triggered an enormous quantity of media coverage which culminated in a 2014 effort by CAP to get Pielke, Jr. fired as a columnist for Nate Silver’s website, fivethirtyeight.com, after it published an article by Pielke, Jr. summarizing the science showing no increase in hurricane frequency or intensity.

Pielke, Jr. then wrote about the experience of being canceled by fivethirtyeight.com in The Wall Street Journal in 2016. I wrote about the attacks in Apocalypse Never, in a viral article I wrote introducing the book, and again last week. Every senior editor, producer, or reporter working in a mainstream news media outlet knows about the debate over Pielke, Jr.’s work, and the fact base behind it.

Roger has responded to these attacks, which have undermined his professional career, and intimidated his colleagues, many of whom behaved with the cowardice typical of academics today, with grace and dignity. He is a model of courage in public life. You can support him by taking a moment now to subscribe to his excellent, must-read Substack.

I asked Roger whether he thought most reporters knew that hurricanes are not increasing in frequency and intensity, and were choosing to present information aimed at giving readers the opposite impression. He pointed to the graphs showing no change, and even a slight decline, in landfalling hurricanes and in major hurricanes.

“We should ask why the data in these graphs have never appeared in the mainstream media,” he said. “Journalists should understand that by playing things straight with their readers and the public, more trust is gained in their work and in climate science more generally. People are not fools and won’t be tricked for long. Good science always wins in the end, even if it takes a little while.”

It’s one thing for a journalist to accuse his fellow journalists of getting something wrong; it’s quite another to accuse them of deliberately misleading the public. The former is understandable and forgivable. We all make mistakes. But to deliberately mislead the public is a violation of the duty of the journalist to report basic facts accurately. To accuse a journalist of deliberately misleading the public is to accuse him or her of lying. I recognize that it’s a very serious charge.

But it is time to state the obvious. The media are consciously and deliberately misleading the public about the relationship between climate change and hurricanes. That means they are lying. Mainstream news reporters, and their editors, at The Financial Times, New York Times, Washington Post, ABC News, and other outlets know perfectly well that hurricanes are not increasing in either frequency or intensity and have decided to mislead readers and viewers into believing the opposite.

It’s time for that to change.

Michael Shellenberger
Environmental Progress, P.O. Box 8538
Albany, CA 94707

BIKERNET TRIKES OF THE WEEK AND SIDECARS—

–Sam Burns
Trike Editor
Bikernet.com™

Various local groups, local government, and California State authorities continue to debate off-highway vehicle use at the sandy, seaside Oceano Dunes State Vehicular Recreation Area.

At issue is the desire among regulators and some residents to reduce dust emissions, as arguments continue about how much of it is caused by OHV recreation and how much is simply natural and a result of Pacific shoreline winds that blow inland.

The California Off-Highway Motor Vehicle Recreation Commission met in September after receiving comments from the San Luis Obispo County Air Pollution Control District (APCD) and the Scientific Advisory Group, which made a recommendation earlier this year to lower emissions by more than 40 percent.

California State Parks submitted a new draft of a work plan in September that may be presented at an upcoming APCD hearing. The commission, drafting its own letter to State Parks and the APCD, decided to take public comments into consideration, correct any errors, revise the copy, and make the submission.

Late last year, the MIC Government Relations Office sent a letter to the California Coastal Commission noting that claims about dust from OHVs have been debunked in two separate reports authored by Dr. Lynn Russell of the University of California, San Diego, Scripps Institution of Oceanography.

“Despite the efforts of groups including the MIC, the American Motorcyclist Association, SEMA, ORBA, and many local enthusiasts, we could be seeing a final version of the work plan from California State Parks before the end of the year,” said Scott Schloegel, senior vice president at the MIC Government Relations Office. “We continue efforts to keep riding, driving, and camping from being severely cut back or eliminated from this very special place that has been a destination for so many for decades.”

The MIC, Specialty Vehicle Institute of America, and the Recreational Off-Highway Vehicle Association joined more than 170 trade associations in calling for the Office of United States Trade Representative to renew existing exclusions on a variety of tariffs for products imported from China.

The Section 301 tariffs, that include many powersports products, are set to expire in the coming months and the letter from Americans for Free Trade – a broad coalition of businesses, trade organizations, and workers united against tariffs – also requested that the USTR create a more robust process for excluding certain imported products from taxation.

“As American businesses continue to face high inflation, ongoing supply chain challenges, and new COVID variants, we urge USTR to provide additional relief by promptly renewing all the exclusions which are set to expire this year,” the letter stated. “This move will provide some certainty for American companies and help maintain their competitiveness – especially those who import products where there is no domestic or other sourcing alternative – as well as ensure continued access to life saving goods.”

Tax credits for electric motorcycles were not included in the Inflation Reduction Act of 2022 that became law in August. The MIC GRO will work to get them back, if possible, in an upcoming tax extenders bill.

I rode up to North Carolina for a memorial that Mike’s widow (Vicki) had this Saturday. I told her you wanted me to represent Bikernet and I gave her your regards,

The hurricane weather starts here tonight but it shouldn’t be much.

This Saturday was a well-attended memorial ride for Mike Pullin which culminated at the Pineville Tavern in Pineville, NC.

Mike was born Jan 13, 1957 and died unexpectedly from natural causes Feb 11th, 2022. Mike was true to himself and spoke his mind. He had a passion for motorcycles and an eye for detail.

Mike (aka Stealth) wrote numerous articles for Bikernet through the years including the article: Rebirth of a Classic Shovelhead (8/21/2018). The Shovelhead in that particular Bikernet article won third in the Easyriders show a month before his death.

Vicki (the one in the middle) organized the memorial ride for her late husband. Hollywood (on the right) was a significant part of Mike’s final build.

Mike was deeply loved.

–The Hamster Edge
In North or South Carolina
We’re not sure

SEE IT HERE: https://www.lifestylecycles.com/default.asp?page=xPreOwnedInventoryDetail&id=12658443

Stock # 13535 is a 2004 Black Harley-Davidson SPRINGER SOFTAIL FXSTSI with only 13100.00 miles!

This bike is a Super clean Springer some of the features/Add-ons on this bike are

* 88c.i.Motor with a 5-Speed trans.
* Chrome vance & Hince exhaust
* Chrome ape hangers with braided cables
* Chromed out control housings and grips
* Chrome sissy bar and luggage rack
* Chrome Front wire wheel
* Chrome forward controls
* Chrome floorboards
* Chrome belt guard

This bike is only $13,995.00

Plus license, $85.00 documentation fee, and local sales tax. NO HIDDEN FEES like some dealers. And we have no reconditioning or prep fees. This bike has passed Lifestyle Cycles rigorous 92-point safety/mechanical/structural inspection.

Fill out an online application today. We have EZ FINANCING and EXTENDED WARRANTIES available!

Lifestyle Cycles is located at 1510 State College Blvd,Anaheim,CA,92806. Open 7 days a week.

NOT LOCAL? WE HAVE SHIPPING AVAILABLE! Call today (714) 490-0155.

We carry Street Glides, Road Glides, Road Kings, Ultras, Sportsters, Softails, Dynas, and much more!
We are California’s pre-owned Harley Mega-Store with over 200 Pre-Owned Harley-Davidsons in stock! To view our current inventory,

Please visit www.LifestyleCycles.com or www.facebook.com/LifestyleCyclesUsedHarleys

“I believe we make our day. We make our life. So much of it is all perception, and this is the form that we build for ourselves. We have to accept it, and work within those boundaries, and it’s up to us.”

–Ray Russell
Student of Philosophy for 75 Years

Adventure Rally & Camp Skills Instructor Scot Harden Named Grand Marshall for Baja 1000

JULIAN, Calif. (October 6, 2022) — During the recent eBay Motors Off-Road Expo presented by General Tire at Fairplex in Pomona, Calif., Adventure Rally & Camp Skills Class Instructor and Hall of Famer, Scot Harden, was named the Grand Marshall for the 55th SCORE Baja 1000 presented by 4 Wheel Parts.

The 2022 edition of the Adventure Rally & Camp in Julian, Calif., is set for November 3-5, while the Baja 1000 is slated for November 15-20.

Harden, who was born and raised in Las Vegas and now calls California home, is a Hall of Fame SCORE motorcycle champion. He was victorious twice in his career in the Baja 1000, three times in the Baja 500 and twice in the SCORE Parker 400. In addition, Harden won the 1979 SCORE Pro Moto Unlimited (Class 22) season point championship.

Along with fellow SCORE Baja champion Johnny Campbell, Harden co-producers the annual ‘Handstands at 100 mph’ charity event honoring desert and Baja motorcycle racing legends.

Harden, who has spent 50-plus years in the Motorcycle industry, has been inducted into the American Motorcyclist Association Hall Of Fame in 2008, the Trailblazers HOF in 2020 and the Hot Shoe HOF in 2020.

The class that Harden will be instructing at this year’s Adventure Rally & Camp, is set up for intermediate/advanced riders, includes a classroom rider training seminar followed by a 26-mile ride encompassing Oriflamme Gorge. The seminar will cover an overview of rider/bike preparation based on taking what Harden has learned learned from Baja/Dakar racing and applying to a real-world adventure ride setting. Following the classroom seminar, the class will be led on a guided ride with stops for demonstrations and training along the way.

The Adventure Rally & Camp is a three-day challenge for riders of any skill level and their bike. During the day, riders take part in self-navigated scenic trail rides and look for elusive checkpoints laid out by the Adventure Rally & Camp staff. At night, competitors build camaraderie, along with industry guests, often around a campfire with movies, music and cold beverages.

Teams will take part in challenges on the trails as well in special tests, during the Adventure Rally & Camp. The special tests are conducted at the Stagecoach Trails Base Camp and are designed to test riders overall adventure skills.

For more information on the 2022 Adventure Rally & Camp and to register, visit www.advrally.com.

CHANCE OF A LIFETIME—Help Bill recover his one-of-a-kind Harley

Hey Bandit, your internet mag did a feature on my Shovel on 2/8/2014 titled Big Carb Monster.

Due to a financial hardship, I was forced to sell my one-of-a-kind Shovel of 28 years. It had a three-barrel downdraft Weber carb from a 911 Porsche, along with dozens of other hand-made mods.

The link is http://gofund.me/d58703a9

I lost something that I spent 28 years creating. I bought a wrecked Shovelhead Harley in 1994. The frame was trash, and the engine and tranny were wore out, but I ended up creating a bike that the former editor of Easyriders magazine featured in his internet mag, Bikernet.com, which gave me recognition for all my work.

After my spouse had emergency open heart surgery a few years ago, that and my back issues ended up with me going into retirement, with bills adding to the point of me filing for bankruptcy and selling my one of a kind Harley that meant a lot to me.

The guy that owns my bike agreed to sell it back to me if I am able, but I can barely make ends meet. I support my spouse and me on my Social Security.

This is what my bike looks like right now. If you could see your way to help me get my life’s work back, the other things in my life that I struggle with will not matter as much.

Please, any amount would help. I’d do the same for another guy if he had something like this that he put this much effort into.

Who knows, maybe enough people reading this will understand just what it does to a guy when he loses something that he poured every bit of himself into. I’m not able to replace a bike as unique as this without help, so please, if you can, whatever you can spare will be greatly appreciated.

Thanks for reading about my situation.

Bill Neely
561-358-2712
williamneely999@gmail.com

NEW FROM THE BDL FACTORY—Billet Basket for ’07 to current Big Twins

BDL’s new CDB-720 billet clutch basket, is cut from a single block of premium grade billet aluminum. It is designed to be an direct replacement for the OEM cast aluminum chain drive basket on 2007 through current (2022) models.

The specialized materials and one-piece design make for a much stronger, durable and longer lasting. Notice the formidable strengthening band machined into the basket. Installation is straight forward.

Installer removes primary chain sprocket and ring gear assembly from the stock cast aluminum basket and attaches it to the new BDL Billet basket.

The unit is offered in 2 versions; CDB-720 and CDB-720-SG4. Picture shown is the CDB-720 which has no chain sprocket and starter ring gear. The CDB-720-SG-4 has the chain sprocket and the starter ring gear.

The chain sprocket is cut into the basket by BDL and we have attached our SG-4 ring gear to it. Since many customers will not want to replace the bearing, they are not sold with the package but are available separately.

For additional details or to order visit www.beltdrives.com or call direct to 714-693-1313 ext 227

SO, WHAT’S COMING UP—I sorta finished a wild story based in Florida and full of violence and outlaws. Of course, the problem started with a girl.

Then I need to wrap up Chopper Chronicles 2. It’s a good story, but it involves flat track racing and I’m learning about a sport I didn’t follow much. I should call Geoff from Joker Machine.

Halloween is coming up and we already have a terrific batch of Halloween girls coming your way from Barry Green.

I’m still working on a BSA and Brough Superior piece on the history of their V-Twins. It’s coming.

We are working with the factory, Markus Cuff and maybe Jon Kosmoski or Dave Perewitz on a story about gas tanks and paint.

Markus has the big C and is fighting hard. He also has a 35-year collection of tank art photos. We want to have some fun with them and share some paint design and material history.

Okay, I’m about to slip my VL, XA, FL, S&S Knucklehead project onto a lift and write the first tech. Mike Stevenson, a Hamster, sent me this David Mann inspired tank art, too cool.

I need to make a new chart for the Assalt Weapan in the Sturgis Museum. Someone pointed out to me that is covers too much of the bike. We will tighten it up.

Bill May, a longtime Bikernet Contributor and friend sent me a Why We Chop story. I just need to edit it and post his photos—shortly.

Remember, ride free or die trying.

–Bandit