Click Here to Read latest short-story by K Randall Ball

Bandit read her note again in a coffee shop at 1:00 in the morning. He hoped it wouldn’t happen, but he could feel it in her features and her comments. She was on the drift. Without her there was nothing except his favorite flannel and his leather saddlebags.

Maybe it had to do with motorcycles and how they made him feel. His chopper and a 4-inch barrel J.D. Crow engraved Colt Government Model pistol were all he needed, with his Ariat boots and his Buck pocket knife. When he got home from working the oil fields, he popped a Voodoo Ranger beer and met the icy envelope in the fridge. She could be cold.

He fired up his Knucklehead planted in an Irish Rich modified VL frame with an old rusting chrome XA springer front end and a 21-inch wheel guided him out of the city. He needed the desert, the solitary miles. His small Wassel peanut tank demanded visiting multiple truck stops for gas.

He cut the back way out of 29 Palms into Amboy. As he rode in the dark, he thought about their times together and he thought about the girl he gave up for her, his best friend. His mind swirled with thoughts of her misdeeds and his choices. His single headlight shined at the two broken lines on the narrow two-lane highway.

He wasn’t right all the time, but he made a decent life for her and her troubled daughter, but it was never enough. Wind whipped up the surrounding sand and he made his way into the gas stop. He slid to a stop and watched a couple of guys trying to jack a car from two old tourists.

His bike sang a loud song of violence, like pump shotguns rapid firing. He revved the engine and slammed on his rear disc brake and slide to an abrupt stop, the tire screaming against concrete. The thugs stood tall suddenly, and Bandit reached inside his vest, and they ran.

At 6’2” and wearing long-johns, Wranglers, tattered brown cowboy boots a sweatshirt, red and black plaid flannel and his stout leather vest showed all the roads he traveled for the last decade. Strong and padded, he didn’t look a fool and the druggies hit the road. He refueled and followed them into the night.

He could work and do anything from being a machinist to a plumber. He had to decide in the town of one gas station/hotel and a shoe box sized post office at 2:00 a.m. He could ride in the direction of Arizona, via Needles or west toward Barstow on the 15 and point toward Nevada.

His gas tank chose Barstow and off he went into the bleak night. He reached Barstow on reserve and was forced to refuel at the very fist opportunity. It was as if the old Harley-Davidson Knucklehead was happy with the cool night air and his high-bars loved the solitude. He refueled, checked his ride over and hit the road east toward Vegas. He knew folks there but didn’t want to have anything to do with the city, any city. He had the ride alone blues.

To the east the sky changed from jet black and started to glow crimson against the Mojave mountains. As soon as it crested the jagged hills the temps jolted upward, and it was already 90 degrees when he pulled into Baker a bleak desert town of 700 surrounded in every direction with desert.

As he slid to a stop beside the one of eight gas stations in town the blues crested in his soul. He wanted a drink bad. The town had four fast food joint, one Mad Greek Restaurant, one Chopper shop and just one Bar, the High Roller Tiki Bar and it was closed. Fortunately, all the gas stations sold Jack Daniels.

The one long-time breakfast joint with the tallest thermometer in the world struggled as long as it could and finally closed their doors.

As the sun blazed into the sky and bleached out all the paint on every building in Baker, Bandit sat on a cinderblock ledge, in a rare shady spot and drank Jack on the rocks while staring at his boots. In rode three club guys. Bandit didn’t recognize the patch. It looked Alien like the only jerky shop in the world right here in Baker. It wasn’t a traditional outlaw patch, more political.

All three dismounted from their flashy, blacked-out, late-model Dynas and strode into the station. They came out laughing, refueled and the big one with lots of hair and a full beard said to the others, “He knows who runs this town.”

They fired up their bikes and sped into the interior of the dusty town that didn’t spread more than a mile into the desert.

Bandit walked into the station and found the short Hispanic clerk with crimson cheeks from being slapped. “I could lose my job.”

“Sorry to hear about that,” Bandit said. “How long have they been around?”

“About a year,” the clerk muttered. “They’re taking over and it ain’t good.”

“When does the Greek open? I need a breakfast burrito,” Bandit inquired lost in his own pain. He bought another half-pint of Jack Daniels and stuffed it into his vest.

“Greek no make burritos, but my sister does,” the kid said and perked up. “Just ride up that street about three blocks on the right a pink house with green shutters. She’ll be making them now.”

“You got it,” Bandit said. “Just what I need.”

“Be careful,” Julio said. “Drinking whiskey and this sun don’t mix.”

Bandit nodded slipping on his jockey’s helmet and brown deerskin gloves and fired up the Knucklehead. He could tell as he straddled the beast that his balance was impaired, but once he got rolling the bike had a mind of its own. He could tell it wanted out of the sun and he found a modicum of shade under a canopy in front of Maria’s Burritos.

He climbed off the bike and looked up as Maria approached. A lovely mystic from a faraway dream, she looked at peace with the universe. Something to do with the vibrant hues on her burrito palace, her colorful Mexican dress and Bandit was done. She caught his gloved hand and wrapped his flannelled arm around her shoulder, kicked out his kickstand and drug his drunken-self inside her Cantina where he collapsed. Whiskey, desert sun, and no sleep for 24 hours took its toll.

He passed out on her bright red velvet couch. Three weeks later he was still sleeping on that rickety couch. Maria’s eyes made him stay, plus her sumptuous burritos didn’t hurt. Their old man was the town’s welder, fabricator and he had suddenly disappeared five years ago. A heavy drinker, he got his ass kicked out of Vegas and he didn’t have the funds to take his kids any farther than Baker.

Folks came to them for Maria’s burritos, chile rellenos, and tacos. Julio worked in the station, but his dad’s welding gear sat idle in the one swaying light bulb garage. The torches, MIG welder, bender and tool box collected dust. He had a sizeable welding table, two vices and folks continued to stop by when they needed something welded or repaired.

Able Bandit set to fixing metal tables for the kitchen, bad doors and gates around the digs. He taught Julio how to weld, bend iron and cut with the plasma cutter after the hose was repaired. They started to make extra money and folks came with broken equipment and gates. “We should equip an old truck with welding gear.” Bandit said to Julio. “We could make good money traveling around the area taking on jobs. You could quit working at the station.”

“That would be very cool,” Julio said.

“Save your paycheck for a couple of months,” Bandit said. “We’re doing okay without it. Then we’ll buy a truck and outfit it.”

“Could we build me a chopper,” Julio asked.

“We can do anything,” Bandit said. “I need to go to the bike shop for something. Wanna go, you can ride on the back of the Knuck?”

“I don’t think so,” Julio said. “Remember those guys?”

“Yeah,” Bandit said, remembering the day they met at the gas station. “I need something for my bike. I’ll go check it out.”

Bandit fired up his trusted friend and rode a couple of blocks toward the highway and around the dusty corner. Everything in Baker was worn. He could weld for the rest of his life and never repair all the rusty fences and gates in town. The shop, located in a galvanized tin building was near collapse. Two Dynas were parked out front sporting club decals. Bandit looked at the decal on the blacked out hot rod with foot-tall risers. He could tell serious funds went into this performance bike with high-dollar mag wheels, exhaust, billet air cleaner and lots of accessories.

He walked into the shop sporting a sand floor and a counter, with teetering wooden and glass tops that hadn’t been painted, varnished or even dusted in years. One parts catalog rested on the counter and a new copy of Cycle Source magazine. A rusting counter bell collected dust on the scratched glass top. Bandit hit it with the palm of his hand, “Service, goddammit,” he shouted, and dust scattered around the unused bell.

Suddenly the sounds in the back stopped and boots stomped against the hot asphalt floor toward the front. Three men burst through the door opening in the wall separating the front from the service area in the back. Bandit could see stacks of tires, old exhaust systems, air filters and bent fenders stacked against the wall.

“Who the fuck are you?” one skinny lanky rider reaching into his leather club vest.

“I’ll handle it,” a short white guy said stepping forward. “I’m Jake, can I help you?”

The last outlaw stood in the doorway with a long fixed-blade in one hand, picking his nails with the point of it and leaning against the doorway. “You don’t handle anything, anymore,” he grunted. “We run this shop.” It was the big guy from the gas station.

“I don’t give a fuck who does what,” Bandit said. I need a quart of 60 weight oil and a couple of Champion spark plugs. Think one of you badasses can handle that.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Jake said.

The two outlaws snarled at Bandit like a pair of over-amped pitbulls. The guy with the pig sticker played with it and said, “I don’t know who you are, but we run Baker. Don’t get in our way, muthafucker.”

Jake tried to remain calm, but the situation was written all over his face. He wasn’t happy, but he grabbed a quart of oil from the opened box behind the counter, a couple of Champion spark plugs from under the counter and ran it up on an old manual cash register.

“What are you riding,” Jake asked, handing Bandit his change.

“A ’44 Knucklehead,” Bandit said. “Thanks. I’ll be around,” he said and looked directly and the bad ass with the knife.

Just that statement reflected hope in Jake’s features. “Thanks,” he said.

Bandit walked out and fired up his Knuck and let it idle out front for long minutes while popping the quart of oil open and pouring it into his hand-built oil tank. He tossed the plugs in a saddlebag and rode around around the block in the opposite direction or toward the highway where he let the motorcycle feel some speed, as if he was headed out of town, but he wasn’t.

“That’s twice,” he thought to himself and weaved, idling his way back to Maria’s Mexican food joint. He could sense some chemistry there, but his blues hung on like an albatross around a sailor’s neck and she knew it. When Julio returned from work they went to the shop in back of the restaurant and tinkered with some projects and welding jobs. Bandit replaced the single bulb with a couple of brighter fluorescent units. The shop was beginning to take on a professional air.

“What’s with this club,” Bandit asked.

“No one stays around here long,” Julio said, “But these guys started showing up and taking over businesses. Doesn’t make any sense. Except for the fast-food joints and gas stations, nothing survives. If Maria and I could get out of here we would.”

?“Is there a boss?” Bandit asked. “And what’s with that patch?

“His name is Armand,” Julio said, “a little guy who shows up in a Mercedes limo with lots of big guys, but Rico is the boss of the club guys, the one with the beard. I don’t know where Armand comes from, and he doesn’t seem to care what happens in Baker.”

“There’s an answer,” Bandit said. “There always is.” They continued to grind on a neighbor’s gate and within a half hour repaired it. Julio returned it to its owner with an invoice for work completed. Bandit made a call to Vegas and the next day a short Italian guy showed up on a modified, super-fast FXR with a large duffel-bag over his shoulder. Maria watched as Bandit shook his hands and took the bag to the corner of the shop.

A week passed and Bandit was beginning to warm to Maria’s advances. She wanted a man to stay and make their lives complete. Bandit and Julio’s welding business took off and they were busy 8-hours a day with more fabricating and repairing gates, garage doors and automotive parts.

Friday morning came around and Maria toiled in the kitchen since 4:00 a.m. to meet the morning orders. A new shiny black pickup pulled up out front and a member of the Arat Brothers got out. Maria met him at the door with a large bag of burritos and containers of her special sauce.

“Thanks Maria, these are the best,” the young member said and gave her a sizeable tip.

“Thank you, senor,” Maria said and handed the young white guy wearing all black the hefty bag and bowed slightly.

“We heard Julio is fixing stuff and welding?” The young member asked.

“Yes, can we help you,” Maria said.

“Come out to the truck,” the member said and pointed in the bed. “We need these posts fixed for the airport.”

Maria stood on tip toes to look into the bed and Julio followed. He studied the damaged 6-inch galvanized post, which were old. “Sure, we can fix them,” he said. “When do you need them.?”

“How about 4:00 this afternoon?” This kid looked new to the gang. His patch was slick and flashy. Other than a long mustache he was clean shaven with short, cropped hair, as if recently out of the military.

“We can do it,” Julio said.

“They must be done by 4:00 or…” The kid said unloading two large crates of running lights from the back of the bed.

“No sweat, we will get it done,” Julio tried to assure the edgy kid.

“We will take care of you financially, if you can get them finished,” The kid said and crawled into the cab with supple leather interior.

Bandit and Julio hauled the crates into the back of the shop and went to work straightening, welding and in some cases rewiring each unit. The kid made a point to bring along a box of new LED bulbs.

At 3:45 the shiny black pickup screeched to a stop in front of Maria’s and this time two members jumped out of the cab, Rico and the kid. They stormed inside where Maria scurried around cleaning la cocina preparing for the following day.

The kid worked with Julio to load the truck. He paid Julio handsomely, but just as they climbed into the truck, Rico grabbed Maria. “I need a date for tonight,” he said pushing her into the cab.

Bandit stayed out of the picture, but when Julio hollered Maria’s name he darted out of the shop through the kitchen and into the yard. “Maria,” Julio hollered and ran into the street as pickup sped away.

“That’s three,” Bandit said.

“What do you mean,” Julio asked.

You’ll see,” Bandit said. “We’ve got work to do.”

Bandit fired up his Knucklehead and rode it around to the shop.

They took off his top motor-mount and welded extensions to stick out each side to just clear the sides of the engine. Bandit pull over the duffle-bag and removed two weapons with holsters. They made brackets so one holster for the 30-round AR-15 rested safely on the left and a Vietnam era M79 slipped into its holster on the right.

“Listen kid, I’m going after your sister,” Bandit said. “I won’t come back without her.”

“What can I do,” Julio said as the sun slipped to the west and the air cooled slightly.

“I need you to go to the Mad Greek restaurant. I have a hunch,” Bandit said, “and let me know when shit starts to happen.”

Julio jogged down the dusty lane as Bandit splashed water his face and suited up. He strapped 30-round clips in his vest and two extra grenades. He pulled on his riding boots and started to reach for a half-pint of Jack Daniels but tossed it against the wall. As the air cooled and Bandit paced, wondering what happened to Maria. He was beginning to itch. He wanted to do something, anything, even if it was wrong. He no longer gave a shit about anything except Maria. He needed to move and headed for the Knucklehead.

Firing it to life he backed it out of the shop, loaded for bear and as he aimed it toward the highway Julio came into view.

“There’s a dozen bikes, a Mercedes limo and a black van at the Mad Greek,” Julio said anxiously, stammering and pacing.

As Julio told the story, the Arat Brothers stormed the Mad Greek Restaurant under Rico’s leadership. He stood just inside the door and his soldiers surrounded him. The room went silent.

Bandit grabbed Julio’s shoulders. “We will handle this. Go back to the restaurant. Sneak in the back door and get the staff to leave and prop the back door open and then I’ll meet you at the airport.”

“Grab your shit and hit the road,” Rico announced to the patrons and snatched a guy out of his chair and pushed him toward the door. The brothers smacked him a few times before he bounced out the door. His wife screamed.

One armed citizen stood up and reached for his weapon. He was dead in a heatwave heartbeat and collapsed to the floor. Another big angry patron jumped to his feet. “This is bullshit,” he snapped. A waitress tried to bring them to-go containers, but one of the outlaws smacked her down.

Two brothers attacked the dissenter with ballpeen hammers. Soon the dining room emptied of all patrons. The brothers arranged the tables and the outlaws sat gleefully around the table and a short man in a black suit entered and sat at the head of the table. Rico stood at the other end.

“What the fuck?” Armand said. “I thought you had control of this town.”

“I do,” Rico snarled. He brought Maria in and sat her next to him, his trophy girl.

“Who the fuck is that?” Armand said. “This night is all about business.”

Rico’s hot-shit status waned, and Maria’s bruised arm didn’t help. “Let’s eat,” Rico announced as if the staff would jump to his demands. One waiter approached the table. He took drink orders and rapidly brought a large platter of beer bottles and cocktails.

Armand wasn’t happy about this situation at all. This wasn’t intended to be a party, nor did he like sitting with his back to the kitchen door. He motioned to his driver and got to his feet.

Rico looked across the table as the brothers collectively started to party and a lone Knucklehead chopper screamed into the kitchen and through the swinging doors into the dining room. Bandit slid to a stop and snatched the 30-round AR 15 from its cradle and let loose. Rico’s team scattered like rats on fire. Bandit dove behind the counter taking fire from several locations.

The counter splintered like dried out chopsticks and handgun fire took its toll, but Bandit held his ground and watched as Armand, dashed out the door with his driver and Rico drug Maria out the front door and into the van followed.

The boss in his slick black Armani suit barreled into the slick black Mercedes and Rico shoved Maria into the van as he jumped in and sped after the Mercedes.

The club soldiers were dead, wounded or running for their lives. Bandit scrambled to his feet and straddled the Knucklehead. He rode across the dining room and out into the street after the vehicles.

They barreled just a block and turned left or north through the town heading for the small rundown community airport only a couple of miles away.

Halfway there the Mercedes driver hit the brakes hard and drifted the long limo into a 45-degree angle and an abrupt stop, kicking up sand and dust in the open desert. The front limo-driver door burst open and so did the rear passenger door. As the van screeched to a sliding stop only a few feet behind the Mercedes the two men opened fire on the driver, shattering the windshield and killing Rico.

Armand, ran to the van’s passenger door, yanked it open and drug Maria out and shoved her into the Mercedes.

As the limo pulled away Bandit saw the lights and slowed, then slid to a stop. He dismounted and ran to the van’s passenger door dreading the worst. He yanked it open and discovered the blood splattered interior and the dead outlaw, but no Maria.

He ground his teeth and ran back to his chopper, idling as if waiting for its master to return. He mounted it and rode around the van and in the direction of the airport and the long limo. He didn’t know what his next move would or could possibly be. The M79 was loaded with a high explosive round, the AR-15 slung over his shoulder and his .45 automatic was in his belt, but he couldn’t end this without Maria.

As he approached the airport, he could see a plane approaching, but there were no runway lights. In desperation the limo driver drove to the end of the runway and began to flash his lights. Bandit slid off the road, stashed his motorcycle behind a semi, pulled the AR and took out the headlights.

The driver jumped out of the limo and opened up on Bandit in the ditch, but light waned, and airports lights were minimal. Out of ammo Bandit tossed the AR in the gulley and pulled the .45. With one round he knocked down the big burly driver, but the plane was fast approaching.

Bandit ran along the dusty gulley beside the runway in the dark, waiting for Armand to make a move. Bandit signaled to Julio to flash on the runway lights. They blinked and went out.

Armand scrambled out of the Mercedes with Maria, pointing his 9mm at her head. “Lights or die,” he screamed in the night.

“Set the girl free or no lights,” Bandit hollered and with the .45 fired, and clipped roof of the Mercedes next to Armand’s shoulder. Armand ducked and let the girl go. Maria ran for the rickety wooden control tower and Julio turned on the lights. Armand dropped his weapon in the sand and by the time he reached it Maria was out of harm’s way running with her brother to safety behind a hanger in the distance.

The Cessna approached and Armand didn’t know whether to shit or go blind. He fired his pistol wildly in the air to warn off the plane, but it touched down and he ran for the driver’s seat in the Mercedes. Bandit returned to his idling Knucklehead and drew the grenade launcher firing a single round aimed at the spot where the plane would turn to taxi off the runway. It blew out a sizeable pothole in the tarmac and destroyed the front right tire as it dropped in the pothole and flashing authorities and sirens screamed onto the air field.

Bandit turn off his lights and rumbled out of the area, picking up Maria and Julio, who sat on his gas tank while Maria held tight to his back. They idled quietly around the outskirts of town and back to Maria’s kitchen.

As they rolled to a stop in the shop behind the kitchen, Maria didn’t want to let go. “How about one of your special burrito’s tonight,” Bandit said and kissed her deeply. “I think we all deserve a margarita tonight.”

Julio moved to the makeshift bar and started to make the drinks. “Maybe we should call this Bandit’s Cantina.”

How stupid is Ocasio Cortez? Is that your question? You want to know how stupid she actually is? Well, I don’t think we have an actual GAUGE for stupidity on this planet, even with regard to American members of the House of Representatives. The stupidity gauge is, well, it’s a variable depending on, well, the stupid person himself, and of course the person declaring one or another person as stupid, or, the declarer, I guess it would be. And then we have Ocasio Cortez herself who is pushing and advancing and enlarging the boundaries of Stupid to where it is almost impossible to get an accurate measure of its dimensions.

Which brings me to her latest one man show of stupidity. I know what you’re saying. She’s not a man. Well, that’s you saying that. That’s not me saying that. She has everyone in Congress and the Senate and probably the Pentagon scared to death of her. If that ain’t being a man, I don’t know what is. I know what you’re saying. You’re saying that the only thing it proves is that everyone in DC EXCEPT her is a total douche.

You know, I would love to spar all day long with you on this matter but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to announce Ocasio’s most recent stellar performance of stupidity. And I am sure you would like me to get on with it. And I respect that. You deserve to be accommodated because you are deserving of that courtesy.

So, you may or may not know that the notorious and endless and everlasting mantra of “Roe Vee Wade” that every news fuck and journalist fuck and bureaucrat fuck has relentlessly been spitting out of their jaws for the past 50 years has been “overturned.” Even though nothing actually changed. Keep in mind Ocasio is the only actual topic here. Ocasio. Not whatever Roe Vee Wade even actually is. Ocasio is the focus. And the fact that she is as fucking stupid as a splotch of marmalade on the far side of Saturn. Which would explain why she made it into Congress.

So whatever Roe Vee Wade is got removed from Federal Authority and was transferred to the individual States to do with what they want. Whatever the fuck that even means.

It’s at this point Ocasio shows up. Blue in the face and her Leader-of-the-Squad ferocity in full distemper she calls out two recent additions to the Supreme Court and demands they be “impeached.” Whatever that even means. Her grounds for this are that they both committed perjury: they lied to the Senate during the idiotic interviews the Senate idiots conduct with the idiots who are vying for lifetime jobs on the Supreme Court.

TWO of these people on the Supreme Court told the Senate “under oath” that they would not “reverse” Roe Vee Wade. Well, turns out they did. They reversed Roe Vee Wade.

Ocasio is convinced this is perjury. There’s a reason she never made it through law school.

“Changing your mind down the road” is not perjury. It’s changing your mind down the road.

Even if you didn’t change your mind but followed through with a secret plan you had all along….it’s not perjury. You can’t commit perjury by lying about a future event involving your behavior. There no such fucking thing as that in any legal system in the galaxy. Perjury is lying under oath in a government clownhouse arena about a PAST event you did, or you knew about, or whatever. It’s not about changing your mind AFTER your day in court. That’s not perjury. That’s not ANYTHING.

In the whole legal library of legaleez no one has ever heard of this. It’s Ocasio Law. It’s her own law system. It’s her own legal arena of girlie make believe. Kinda like, how it is when you play with dolls. It’s make believe. It’s the Ocasio Legal System. She’s a fucking idiot!

And that’s basically what I wanted to present. Thank you. I’ll say hi to your mom next time she comes over if I’m home. Sometimes she just comes over. She has a key.

Thank you!
–J.J. Solari,
Researcher of Ocasiotometricotomiosis, or “Stupidity Science 101.”
Bikernet.com™

Prices for classic motorcycles are changing

by James Hewitt from Hagerty.com

There’s a Hagerty Motorcycle Price Guide that uses thousands of transactions to track values on 9751 motorcycles. Here are five trends that stood out to us in the most recent update, released in June.

The smart take in the motorcycle community of late, much like for cars, is that a full-on, concours-level restoration rarely pays — at least financially speaking.

Click Here to Read the full Feature Article. See Photos of the Motorcycle Brands & Models.

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Who’s your Daddy? Latest from Drag Racng Series

by XDA Media Staff

Racers and fans expect record-breaking performances when they attend an XDA event. And the 5th annual Superbike Showdown at Maryland International Raceway delivered just that and more on Father’s day weekend.

Racers and fans expect record-breaking performances when they attend an XDA event. And the 5th annual Superbike Showdown at Maryland International Raceway delivered just that and more on Father’s day weekend.

Click Here to Read this Drag Racing Report only on Bikernet.com

Xtreme Dragbike Association (XDA) is an east coast motorcycle drag racing series with 700+ motorcycle racers competing at each event. Every XDA event hosts professional classes, sportsman classes, grudge racing and a vendor midway.

If you so choose, you can support the 25 years of online legacy of Bikernet.com website being always online, eyery year.

Simply choose the Bandit’s Cantina annual subscription. Lowest online subscription to some of the features exclusive in the Cantina since 25 years of Bikernet.com

CLICK to Sign-up for the Cantina.

Good thing there’s a Hagerty Motorcycle Price Guide. It uses thousands of transactions to track values on 9751 motorcycles. Here are five trends that stood out to us in the most recent update, released in June.

The gap between the best and the rest is increasing

Yet the very fact that restorations have become prohibitively expensive has, conversely, fed demand and higher values for bikes that have already been restored to top-notch standards. Buyers are increasingly paying above—sometimes shockingly above—what had been the norm for perfectly restored motorcycles rather than waiting and shelling out for a restoration.

There are motorcycles that have far larger premiums than others, some of which might shock you.

Notable examples:

• The difference between a #1 and #2 BMW R90S is 67 percent or $13,300.
• The difference between a #1 and #2 1940 Indian Model 440 is 46 percent or $69,000. Up from a 29 percent difference last year

British bikes are fashionable again, and values are spiking for (some) historically more affordable models

Consider, for instance, one of the most desirable of the Bonnevilles, the 1959 Triumph T120R Bonneville. It was the motorcycle that got people excited about motorcycles in the same way the MGs and Triumph cars of the era awoke a generation of car enthusiasts to the joys of simple sports cars. As such, the Bonneville sits high in the pantheon of the most collectible British motorcycles.

Despite that, the past few years have not treated the model well. In 2007, Bonhams sold a 1959 Triumph T120R Bonneville for $28,080. In 2016, one at Mecum crept higher, selling for $30,800 after fees. This January at Mecum Las Vegas, two examples of that same model in similar restored condition slid downward, selling for $17,600 and $26,400.

Buyers might be more enticed by British bikes now that their values are equal with those of their Japanese counterparts. Indeed, when compiling the latest price guide, we saw evidence that everything from affordable Triumph Tridents to staple classics like the Norton Commando are growing in value again.

Notable examples:

• For every three Triumphs that increased in value only one decreased. Triumph’s three-cylinder Trident increased 45 percent, the most of any British bike.
• Norton commandos increased between 11 percent and 17 percent, the first overall increase in Commandos since 2015. The 750SS, 750S, and 750R got the largest increases of 17 percent.
• BSA A65 Spitfire Hornet increased 20 percent.
• The T120 Bonneville increased 2–6 percent. Not huge, but that’s their first increase of any size since 2018.

Prewar Harley-Davidson and Indian motorcycles are double-dipping as collectible art

To some, myself included, motorcycles can be a form of art. And with values for tangible assets increasing due to inflationary pressure, “art” motorcycles such as prewar Harley-Davidsons and Indians faired very well in the last year, especially rare models. That should be welcome comfort to older enthusiasts who fear younger buyers won’t want their bikes (although we think those fears are unfounded). The aforementioned increasing cost of restorations has only amplified the spike in value of the best examples.

• One of the most beautiful examples of mechanical art, the Indian four-cylinder, saw the largest gains of any American prewar bike. Values grew 44 percent for the Model 440, 30 percent for the Model 435, and 25 percent for the Model 403 year-over-year.
• The Harley-Davidson JD, one of the most popular prewar Harleys and the one that introduced the teardrop tank, increased 60+ percent.

Gen-Xers are reliving their youth on dirt bikes

“500cc two-stroke” resonates with street and dirt motorcycle riders. In street form, such machines are synonymous with GP bikes. In dirt form, they’re synonymous with single-cylinder, arm-ripping torque. Whether you prefer street or dirt, chances are you’re paying more for these ’70s and ’80s bikes than you would have ten years ago. A Honda CR500 was a used bike back then. Now it’s a $15K collectible. Collectors, particularly the fiftysomethings who grew up in the era, seem to be untroubled by the heavy use of plastics that once turned off more traditional collectors.

Notable examples:

• 500cc two-stroke Maicos gained 50–70 percent.
• The 1978–1980 Honda CR250R increased 100 percent to a #1 value of $15,000.

Niche ’80s and ’90s sportbikes become more and more accepted as collectibles

Notable examples:

• The Moto Guzzi 1000S had its second consecutive increase over 100 percent. It increased 109 percent this price guide to a value of nearly $28,000.
• The GSX-R 750P Limited Edition gained 120 percent after gaining 20 percent each of the previous two years.

Over 560 entries were on hand to witness history on the world-famous quarter-mile of MIR. The Pro classes get top billing for bringing incredible performances, but the sportsman racers kept the show rolling with the highest level of competitive racing.

Orient Express Racing Pro Street
The Orient Express Racing Pro Street racers were dropping their personal bests all weekend long for performance action from the first qualifier until the final elimination run. Right out of the gate during Friday night’s first round of qualifying, Rodney Williford threw a 6.385 on the scoreboard that his competitors would not outdo.  

Qualifying was still impressive as three racers lowered their ET’s, and one raised his MPH. James Waugh ran his fastest pass ever at 225.52 mph to move him up to the 13th spot on the GOAT list. Curtis Brown also made a giant leap from 6.701 to a new personal best of 6.605 to be in the top twenty quickest Pro Street racers of all time. Midwest racer Brett Ware also made a big move from his previous 6.903 ET to running a 6.791 in qualifying. Blake Sanders also made a slight improvement to his standing with a 6.61 pass.

Rodney Williford’s domination continues as he took wins against Jordan Haase, Curtis Brown, Greg Wallace, before meeting Justin Shakir in the finals. Shakir is the only racer that has been able to win against Williford in the past two seasons, and he was on a mission as he made his way through his side of the ladder.

Shakir qualified with a 6.465 and then went on to lower that ET with a 6.404 against Curtis Brown and then again in the semi-final with an incredible 6.382 against Brett Ware. This 6.382 pass puts Shakir in the #3 spot on the Pro Street GOAT list, surpassing Williford’s 6.383 and setting the MIR Track record.  

DME Racing Real Street
It was an All-Star weekend for Rickey Gadson in DME Racing Real Street. Gadson hit the trifecta as he took his first #1 qualifying position with a 7.509, ran a 7.484 for the low ET of the event, and then went on to dominate eliminations. Gadson, with an earned bye in round one, took wins against Brittany Bohne and Ralphie Navarro on his way to the final.

In the final, Gadson faced class champion, David Stewart. Both riders left the tree at the same time, but little by little, Gadson gained ground on Stewart to turn on the win light running a 7.524 to his 7.931. Will Gadson be able to repeat next month at the WGPC Bike Fest on July 22-24? Make plans now to be at Maryland International Raceway.

HTP Performance Super Stock
We saw two firsts this past weekend in HTP Performance Super Stock. For the first time, Curtis McDougald was not the number one qualifier, and Darion Payne was not in the final round. Instead, these two riders flopped positions as Payne took the number one qualifying spot with an 8.841 and Curtis McDougald made it to the finals. The one thing that did stay the same was Mike Davis making a final-round appearance. This would be Davis’s third final this season as he had a new opponent to face. David got the starting line advantage on the tree over McDougald, but McDougald outpowered Davis and took the win.

Vance & Hines 4.60
The Vance & Hines 4.60 competition was hotter than ever, with six racers running dead on 4.60 in qualifying. Terry Tompkins earned the top spot with a 4.602 but was taken out in round three by Jimmy Shifflett, who ultimately went on to the final round. Mac McAdams was leading the points chase until he took a loss in round one that opened up the gate for Ronald Procopio to pass him in points.

HTP Performance Grudge

3 Sixty 5 Monster Bulls
In 3 Sixty 5 Monster Bulls ‘Tik Tok’ was back on top as Jason Herron took his Hayabusa monster back to the finals. On his way to the final round, Herron took out Tik Tok’s owner Spencer Claycomb and David Martin on ‘Unknown’. Mike Burkhart was there on ‘Attila’ waiting on Herron after he took out’ Grave Digger’, class champion ‘Pickin Pockets’ and ‘Flawless Victory.  

Tommie’s Motorsports DMV Bulls
Aubrey Valentine on ‘Stunna 4 Vegas’ hit the jackpot in Tommie’s Motorsports DMV Bulls. At the Platinum General Services Season Opener Valentine made it down to the semi-finals, and returned this past weekend ready to go all the way. Valentine took wins against ‘Da Setup’ and ‘Bad Bitch’ on his way to the final. Sitting in the other lane as John Carter on ‘Grey Matter.’ Carter took wins against ‘Minion’ and ‘Monkey Business’ to earn his spot in the final. The final match was well matched as both riders made strong side-by-side passes, but Valentine wiped away the ‘Grey Matter’ and turned on the win light.

Tommie’s Motorsports All Motor Bulls
In Tommie’s Motorsports All Motor Bulls, David Fondon had an easy night on ‘Bad Bitch’ as he took out ‘Da Setup in round one. Fondon then went on to the finals to send Quentin Letson on ‘Q’ back to the alphabet soup as he took the win.   

Mickey Thompson Tires Top Sportsman
Mickey Thompson Tires Top Sportsman had a new #1 qualifier with Ben Knight running a 7.351 to make him a full second quicker than the #32 qualifier of Barry Pryer Sr with a 8.391. In round three of competition Robin Procopio would take Knight out of competition on her way to the final where she would face off with Rob Hunnicutt.

1 Stop Speed 5.60
The 1 Stop Speed 5.60 class was led by Jeff Stahl who qualified #1 with a 5.601 over the thirty-five bike field of eighth-mile racers. Stahl would be defeated in round two by Duane Jackson, who would go on to the final round. Jackson, a winner circle veteran, faced the rookie Rico Brown in the final. Brown had just graduated high school on Friday and had his entire family in attendance for this race.

MPS Racing Pro ET
The staging lanes were filled in MPS Racing Pro ET with over a hundred racers looking for that big $5,000 win on Sunday at MIR. Harvey Powell and Ashawn Hopkins executed seven rounds of competition until they met for the final.

Powell, with an 8.11 dial, cut a .012 light that would prove to be a massive advantage over Hopkins’s .050 light on his 8.40 dial. Hopkins crossed the finish line running close to his dial with a 8.416 while Powell ran further off his dial with a 8.143. Hopkins should have seen his win light come on, but instead Powell took the win with his holeshot advantage at the tree.

Brock’s Performance Street ET

VooDoo Components Bracket Bash
Over a hundred racers entered the VooDoo Components Bracket Bash on Saturday for a $3,000.00 to win payday. Louis Green Jr and Blake Childress had to win seven rounds of competition to earn their places in the final. In a well-matched final, Green Jr dialed 9.05 cut a .044 light while Childress on an 8.90 dial cut a .043 light. Both racers were side-by-side down the quarter-mile as neither racer wanted to give up taking stripe; as they both broke out of their dials as they crossed the finish line. Louis Green Jr’s got the win with 9.037 to Childress’s 8.881 break-out time.

Hard Times Parts & Service Gambler’s Race
In the Friday night Hard Times Parts & Service Gambler’s Race Ben Knight and Tom Dunham dominated for five rounds of competition before they went to battle against each other. Knight dialed an 8.93 and Dunham an 8.83. Dunham had a slight starting line advantage with a .022 light to Knights .058. As both racers approached the finish line, Knight lifted while Dunham stayed in the throttle breaking out with an 8.824, giving the win to Ben Knight.

For full qualifying and round-by-round results of the event, visit xdaracing.com.

The next stop for the 2022 XDA season will be back at the Maryland International Raceway for the 22nd annual WPGC Bike Fest on July 22-24, 2022! This is the biggest XDA event of the year! The event will feature Live Bands, Bikini Contest, Sound Competition, Custom Bike Show, Beer Garden with Bikini Bartenders and a vendor midway full of great deals on motorcycle parts, accessories and apparel.

Are you looking to buy your first motorcycle?

by Law Tigers at www.lawtigers.com
Congratulations — you’re about to begin one of the most enjoyable, rewarding hobbies. However, the bike you purchase plays a significant role in your experience as a motorcyclist. As a result, you’ll want to perform adequate research to determine the best bike for your needs.

Read ahead to learn our motorcycle buying tips and the basics you should understand before purchasing your first bike.

Consider Styles of Motorcycles

Before you can determine which bike to buy, you’ll need to choose a style of bike. Motorcycles come in the following styles:

• Standard: Offers a comfortable ride, neutral ergonomics, a shorter seat, and room for variations
• Cruiser: Includes a lower seat and comfortable riding experience for cruising around town
• Touring: Offers amenities for cross-country tips, including significant storage, easy ergonomics, and sizable fairings
• Sport bike: Optimizes speed and agility with a high seat and lightweight build
• Sport touring: Blends the characteristics of a sport and touring bike
• Dual sport: Includes a versatile build suitable for most terrains

You can always perform more research about each of these bike types to learn their specific builds and features. However, we recommend first considering how you plan to use your bike. Will you primarily take short rides around town, or are you planning cross-country road trips on your motorcycle?

Once you narrow down the best type of motorcycle for your needs, you can begin searching for a bike within that style.

Understand Engine Sizes

Motorcycles also come with various engine sizes, so you’ll want to consider the appropriate size for your riding habits.

Typically, smaller engines are more cost-effective, as their bikes come with cheaper price tags, and they are more affordable to insure. However, small-engine bikes have less power and drive than large-engine ones.

Determine Used vs. New

Next, you’ll want to consider whether you will purchase a used motorcycle or a brand-new one.

Used motorcycles are almost always more affordable than their brand-new models. As a result, if you’re on a tight budget or are looking for a good first bike to start your new hobby, you may want to purchase a used one.

However, used motorcycles are also less reliable than new ones. These motorcycles pose the risk that something could go wrong while riding, leading to costly repairs or even accidents. Generally, before you purchase a used motorcycle, you should have a mechanic examine it thoroughly to determine its condition.

You should also look at a used bike’s mileage before purchasing it. Motorcycles have shorter lifespans than cars. While 20,000 miles is relatively low for a car, this mileage is high for small motorcycles. Be sure to consider a bike’s mileage to estimate how much life you may be able to get out of it.

Set a Budget

You should have at least a vague idea of your budget before searching for a motorcycle. If you’re not sure what price range you want to stick to, you may be tempted to purchase something absurdly cheap or expensive.

If you’re planning to purchase a used bike, we recommend looking in the $1,500 to $3,000 range. However, if you’re hoping to buy a new motorcycle, you’ll need to spend more. The average cost of a new bike in 2022 is around $16,000.

Start Searching

Now you should have all of the information you need to start searching for your first motorcycle. You can check out dealerships, private sellers, and online shops to view their current inventory of motorcycles in your preferred style. Just be sure to compare price points across a few sellers to ensure that you get a good deal.

Sign up for your free rider benefit package while you’re here. If you have a motorcycle and have been injured in an accident call Law Tigers at 1-888-863-7216.

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Vance & Hines Issues Statement on Federal Trade Commission Action Against Harley-Davidson

Background: The Federal Trade Commission announced a complaint on June 23, 2022, against Harley-Davidson, ordering the company to “fix warranties by removing illegal terms and recognizing the right to repair, come clean with customers, and ensure that dealers compete fairly with independent third-parties.”

Link to Federal Trade Commission Press Release: https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2022/06/ftc-takes-action-against-harley-davidson-westinghouse-illegally-restricting-customers-right-repair-0

Statement from Mike Kennedy, President & CEO of Vance & Hines:

“This action taken by the FTC is a huge win for motorcycle riders. While we still need to see how this plays out, we anticipate that riders will have more choices in how they repair and update their motorcycles during the warranty period, which is clearly a big deal for companies in the motorcycle aftermarket, too. I hope that the “it will void your warranty” threat for someone who just wants a better sounding or smoother running Harley is a thing of the past.”

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This One is All Over the Place….

NEVER DULL—

About five weeks until the Sturgis Rally hits. I’m helping with the Chip and a raffle roller project.

My son, Frank asked what I want for father’s day and my neighbor recommended one of these killer gas cans. Bada bing, it was delivered.

Irish Rich is wrapping final mods to our VL frame and I will bring you the first VL, XA, FL project bike tech. We were even able to move the Salt Torpedo into the shop. I need to remove the rear wheel and take it to Jason at Deadwood Custom Cycles for a new tire. The winter got this one.

Ride fast and free, forever!

–Bandit

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