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Read More January 10, 2002 Part 2
By Bandit |
Continued From Page 1
VON DUTCH COMES TO BIKERNET–We’re pleased to report that Von Dutch will continue his rebel artistic legacy through a line of products with the classic Von Dutch label and they will be featured in the gift shop of Bikernet.com. We were fans of Mr. Dutch before he left us and are proud to see his legacy continued on the site.
STOLEN E-MAIL FROM THE STAFF AT BIKERNET–Who cares about me. Damn, look at you girl. Yes, a shower would be heaven.To gently stroke your wet, slippery body would be a fantasy coming true.Mmmmm, to take you out of the shower and slowly rub lotion over every inchof you. Paying close attention to the soft area just besides your p**sylips. I would love to suck on your n**ples, then run my tongue down yourbelly as I slide my hands down to lotion your legs. Love, Sin Wu.
At least the morale is high at Bikernet.
I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours
We need your images! Send us pictures of your tattoos to post and we’ll send you a free Bikernet sticker. All submissions should go to sinwu@bikernet.com. Please be sure to include your address.
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We’re looking for one-of-a-kind items or something that just makes us go “Dude, that’s bad!” Images and a short story is what we ask for. Come on, send us your submissions!
MESSAGE FROM A MARINE ON AFGHAN FRONT–It’s fuckin’ freezing here. I’m sitting on hard,cold dirt betweenrocksand shrubs at the base of the Hindu Kush mountainsalong the Dar ‘yoi PomirRiver watching a hole that leads to a tunnel thatleads to a cave. Stakeout, my friend, and no pizza delivery for thousands ofmiles. I also glanceat the area around my ass every 10 to 15 secondsto avoid anotherscorpion sting. I’ve actually given up battling thechiggers and sandfleas,but them damn scorpions give a jolt like a cattle prod. Hurtslike abastard. The antidote tastes like transmission fluid but God bless theMarine Corps for the five vials of it in my pack.
The one truth the Taliban cannot escape is that,believe it or not, theyarehuman beings, which means they have to eat food anddrink water. Thatrequires couriers and that’s where an old bountyhunter like me comes inhandy. I track the couriers, locate the tunnelentrances and storagefacilities, type the info into the handheld, shoot thecoordinates up tothesatellite link that tells the air commanders where to drop the hardware,webash some heads for a while, then I track and record the new movement.
It’sall about intelligence.We haven’t even brought in the snipers yet. Thesescurrying rats have noidea what they’re in for. We are but days away fromcutting off supplylinesand allowing the eradication to begin.
I dream of bin Laden waking up tofind me standing over him with my boot on his throat as I spit a bloodyearinto his face and plunge my nickel-plated Bowie knife through hisfrontallobe. But you know me. I’m a romantic.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: This country blows, man. It’snoteven a country. There are no roads, there’s no infrastructure, there’snogovernment. This is an inhospitable, rockpit ruled by11thcentury warring tribes.
There are no jobs here like we know jobs.Afghanistan offers two ways for a man to support hisfamily: join the opiumtrade or join the army. That’s it. Those are youroptions. Oh, I forgot,youcan also live in a refugee camp and eatplum-sweetened, crushed beetlepasteand squirt mud like a goose with stomach flu if that’s your idea of aparty.But the smell alone of those “tent cities of thewalking dead” is enough tohurl you into the poppy fields to cheerfully scrapebulbs for 18hoursa day.
And let me tell you something else. I’ve been livingwith these Tajiks andUzbeks and Turkmen and even a couple of Pushtins forover a month and ahalfnow and this much I can say for sure: These guys, all of em, are Huns.Actual, living Huns. They LIVE to fight. It’s what they do. It’s ALL theydo.They have no respect for anything, not for theirfamilies or for each otheror for themselves. They claw at one another as a wayof life. They playpolowith dead calves and force their 5-year-old sonsinto human cockfightstodefend the family honor. Huns, roaming packs ofsavage, heartless beastswhofeed on each other’s barbarism. Fucking cavemen with AK 47s.Then again, maybe I’m just cranky.I’m freezing my ass off on this stupid hill becausemylap warmer is running out of juice and I can’t recharge it until the suncomes up in a few hours.
Oh yeah! You like to write letters, right? Dome afavor, Bizarre. Write a letter to CNN and tell Judy and Bernie and thatawful, sneering, pompous Aaron Brown to stop calling the Taliban”smart.”They are not smart. I suggest CNN invest in adictionary because the wordthey are looking for is “cunning.” The Taliban arecunning, like jackalsandhyenas and wolverines. They are sneaky and ruthless and, whenconfronted,cowardly. They are hateful, malevolent parasites who create nothing anddestroy everything else. Smart. Pfft. Yeah, they’re real smart. They’vespent their entire lives reading only one book (and not a very good one,asbooks go) and consider hygiene and indoor plumbing to be products of thedevil. They’re still figuring out how to work a Bic lighter. Talking toaTaliban warrior about improving his quality of life is like trying toteachan ape how to hold a pen; eventually he just gets frustrated and sticksyouin the eye with it.
OK, enough.Snuffle will be up soon so I have to get back to myhole. Covering mytracksin the snow takes a lot of practice but I’m getting good at it. Pleasetellmy fellow Americans to turn off their TV sets and move on with theirlives.The story line you are getting from CNN is utter bullshit anddesignednot to deliver truth, but rather to keep you glued to the screen throughthecommercials. We’ve got this one under control. The worst thing you guyscando right now is sit around analyzing what we’re doing over here becauseyouhave no idea what we’re doing and, really, you don’t want to know. Weareyour military and we are doing what you sent us here to do.
You wanna help? Buy some fucking stocks, America.–Saucy Jack
A Classy Lady—
In most cases I refuse to forward e-mail of the chain letter or spam type. Again, in most cases, the content is not correct, contains mistakes, lies or has been so twisted that the intended point is all but lost. Here is one I received and checked out as best I could. It seems real enough and concurs with other stories of the same type. Nothing to do with bikes but here for your reading pleasure:
3/66 First tour of performing in Vietnam.
12/22/68 Goes with Bob Hope Show for second tour of Vietnam
There is Justice: Ann-Margret and the Vietnam Vet
Richard never really talked a lot about his time in Vietnam other than he had been shot by a sniper. However, he had a rather grainy, 8-by-10 black and white photo he had taken at a USO show of Ann-Margret with Bob Hope in the background that was one of his treasures.
A few years ago, Ann-Margret was doing a book signing at a local bookstore. Richard wanted to see if he could get her to sign the treasured photo, so he arrived at the bookstore at 12 o’clock for the 7:30 signing. When I got there after work, the line went all the way around the bookstore,circled the parking lot and disappeared behind a parking garage.
Before her appearance, bookstore employees announced that she would sign only her book and no memorabilia would be permitted. Richard was disappointed, but wanted to show her the photo and let her know how much those shows meant to lonely GIs so far from home.
Ann-Margret came out looking as beautiful as ever and, as second in line, it was soon Richard’s turn. He presented the book for her signature and then took out the photo. When he did, there were many shouts from the employees that she would not sign it. Richard said, “I understand. I just wanted her to see it.”
She took one look at the photo, tears welled up in her eyes and she said, “This is one of my gentlemen from Vietnam and I most certainly will sign his photo. I know what these men did for their country and I always have time for ‘my gentlemen.’ ” With that, she pulled Richard across the table and planted a big kiss on him. She then made quite a to do about the bravery ofthe young men she met over the years, how much she admired them and how much she appreciated them.
There weren’t too many dry eyes among those close enough to hear. She then posed for pictures and acted as if he was the only one there.
Later, at dinner, Richard was very quiet. When I asked if he’d like to talk about it, my big strong husband broke down in tears. “That’s the first time anyone ever thanked me for my time in the Army,” he said.
Richard, like many others, came home to people who spit on him and shouted ugly things at him. That night was a turning point for him. He walked a little straighter and, for the first time in years, was proud to have been a vet. I’ll never forget Ann-Margret for her graciousness and how much that small act of kindness meant to my husband. I now make it a point to say “thank you” to every person I come across who served in our Armed Forces. Freedom does not come cheap and I am grateful for all those who have served their country.
If you’d like to pass on this story, feel free to do so. Perhaps it will help others to become aware of how important it is to acknowledge the contribution our service people make.
Why Permanent Markers Make Good Christmas Gifts—
No child was hurt during or after this photo was taken.
First the Lord made man in the Garden of Eden.
Then he said to himself, “There’s something he’s needing”
After casting about for a suitable pearl,
He kept messing around and created a girl.
Two beautiful legs, so long and so slender,
Round, slim, and firm, and ever so tender.
Two lovely hips to increase his desire,
And rounded and firm to bring out the fire.
Two lovely breasts, so full and so proud,
Commanding his eyes, as he whispers aloud.
Two lovely arms, just aching to bless you,
And two loving hands, to soothe and caress you.
Soft, cascading hair hung down over her shoulder,
And two dreamy eyes, just to make him grow bolder.
‘Twas made for a man, just to make his heart sing.
Then he added a mouth, and ruined the whole damn thing
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Motorcycle vs. Woman
Inventor Arthur Davidson, of the Harley-Davidson MotorcycleCorporation, died and went to heaven. At the gates, St. Peter told Arthur, “Since you’vebeen such a good man and your motorcycles have changed the world, yourreward is, you can hang out with anyone you want in Heaven.
Arthur thought about it for a minute and then said, “I want to hang outwith God.” St. Peter took Arthur to the Throne Room, and introduced him to God. Arthur then asked God, “Hey, aren’t you the inventor of woman?” God said, “Ah, yes,” “Well”, “professional to professional”, you have somemajor design flaws in your invention. There’s too much inconsistency in thefront-end protrusion. It chatters constantly at high speeds. Most modelsrear ends are too soft and wobbles too much. They are very hard to getstarted. The intake is placedway too close to the exhaust. And finally, The maintenance costs areoutrageous!
“Hmmmmmm, you may have some good points there, “replied God”, hold on.God went to his Celestial super computer, typed in a few words and waitedfor the results. The computer printed out a slip of paper and God read it.”Well, it may be true that my invention is flawed, “God said to Arthur,” butaccording to these numbers, more men are riding my invention then yours !!!
HORSE INSIDERS’ REPORT–Edge has the details for the upcoming SMSO pretty much all worked out. They’re posted on our site and will be in issue 22. The event is shaping up to be the best ever.
Please keep your eyes open for The Horse shirts being sold at malls, bike shops and novelty stores, especially around Cincinnati, Indiana and Kentucky. As most of you already know, a former employee was caught embezzling, stealing and forging checks, plus selling counterfeit shirts. Shirts were allegedly spotted in Indiana…we’re checking it out today.
The show in Cincinnati is supposed to be twice as large as last year’s. I hope to attend and need to know who else is planning on going. If you’ve never been to a show like this, be advised, it’s not a rodeo-type event, but a show where manufacturers display their latest products. I enjoy seeing everyone in one central location, but there is little to gain as far as business goes.
As you guys get the magazines, please feel free to shoot me an e-mail and tell me if you have any comments, concerns or suggestions. I value your input and hope everyone feels that as long as they’re part of the mag, that pride of ownership will compel suggestions.
–Hammer
Here?s a sneak peak at the next cover of Horse.
Continued On Page 3
January 10, 2002 Part 1
By Bandit |
I’m currently in the Mediterranean Sea, one day out from Genoa, Italy. I’m learning shit on this cruise that should completely change my outlook on the world, but who the hell knows. I’ll pass a bunch on to you as I sway from port to port. We just passed Gibraltar yesterday, which is almost the southern most point of the continent of Spain. Actually, Algeciras is, but for some reason the British were very concerned about keeping the eight-mile-wide Straights of Gibraltar open for English shipping into the Med so they control Gibraltar. You can imagine that over the years the Spanish got fed up with the limeys in command of their little tiny peninsula, so the Spaniards won’t allow them access to their water supply. Gibraltar is so small that the British had to cement the east coast to prevent the briny Med from washing it away. In the process they developed a system to catch the rain water off the cliff and that’s what they use for their supply of fresh water until they can work out something with the Spanish.
OK, so here’s a report on the vandalism that struck the ship a couple of days before New Year’s. Two women?s cabins were broken into. A purse was stolen from one and cigarettes and a watch out of the other. An investigation was set in motion and three people were immediately looked upon suspiciously. First it was the crew, a bunch of scurvy, but well mannered Filipinos. The second was a religious group that came aboard that evening to entertain the crew. A gypsy formula was applied in their case. They may have sent young guns to the passengers’ rooms while their slinky sister kept the crew smiling. Finally the police told us that there is no specific security at this particular dump of a harbor and people roam the docks and ships freely. There is also a couple of street gangs that make working the docks their form of club fundraising. They usually attack captains’ cabins for cash and electronic equipment.
Two days after the robbery sent the crew and security within the Rickmers company into an uproar, the master stewart returned from cleaning chores with the blonde’s purse. Her wallet was missing but the idiot thief didn’t check the zipper pockets so he missed the credit cards. Then the day after New Year’s the hard-working Antwerp police returned to the ship with Santa’s sack full of loot from the thief’s/drug addict’s apartment. Seems scurvy bloke was riding a bicycle in the snow in the port New Year’s Day. A suspicious character who had already been busted for drug use and ordered to leave the country was roaming the quiet industrial streets of the port. The police pulled him over and questioned him, then after a search discovered something that appeared to be stolen. They then searched his apartment and found a litany of watches, wallets and personal effects that did not belong to him. He went down and everything, including the contents of the wallet was returned, except for the snakeskin wallet. What the hell is going to happen next? Let’s get to the news.
Rudy?s Last Act As Mayor—
Caribbean Report—
Some of you might have missed last week’s report. I was out of town on aflash trip. I’m very sad to report that Roger Bourget’s (from Bourget’sBike Works) oldest daughter, Autumn Marie Bourget, passed away the first of theyear in a motorcycle accident in Phoenix. She was barely 20 years old.Details of the accident are not important, what is, is the dreadful loss fora family that is a very important part of motorcycling now days. Ourmemories and condolences go to the Bourget family, Godspeed Autumn.
A brother recently told me that there is no love like a parent’s love for their child. I have known a couple of friends in the industry who have lost their children recently to various causes. This is the third and hopefully the last. Our deepest sympathy to the Bourgets.–Bandit
On another note, here’s a photo of the WCC No. 2 before and after. As youmight have been following, this bike was redone by us at Caribbean CustomCycles. Like always, Jesse and the crew were very helpful with this project.Soon a complete build will be featured here on Bikernet.
Our local airport rats have informed us that the Bikernet ladies havearrived to the shores of our island. Reports are that lonely looking babes withcomputer related stuff are staying in one of our local beachside hotels andwere heard ranting “Bandit sucks” all night long. Maybe that?s why the siteseems more relaxed lately, 80 degree weather and azure seas will do that toyou, plus an overdose of Latin males (or females) willing to “party.” Wealso received reports of large bills being paid by Se?or Bandit in localbars and restaurants. Obviously they have not been by the shop yet (maybethey think we don’t know) but we will keep informing our interested readersabout the adventures of the lonely Bikernet babes in Puerto Rico.
As we all know, the new Jesse James TV program is scheduled for Sunday, Jan.13 at 9 p.m. on the Discovery Channel. Motorcycle Mania 2 will be chock-full of the WCC crew antics and some stars and their bikes, plus the tripto Sturgis. If you miss it, I’m sure they will show it agazillion more times so don’t sweat it.
The name of the new Camel bike builder was leaked out. The name wasrevealed by our agents at the ultra-secret gossip department, but he?s sounfamiliar I can’t remember. I promise next week I will let you guys know.
The February/March issue of the Horse features Jesse James and the WCC crew,a kick-ass interview by Kozik and our orange WCC bike.The mag should be arriving just about now.
Our new Web site, ChopperFreak.com, will be up and running pretty soon. I will letknow when the whole thing starts. Meanwhile, you can e-mail us at Jose@ChopperFreak.com
Oh well, time to go. It’s been a pretty sad week and beginning of the yearfor us. Needless to say, it was a super hectic trip to Phoenix and back. It doesn’tmatter where you are or what you are doing, it’s imperative to be withfriends in this sort of situation.Seems like Bandit is freezing his ass somewhere in Ye’Old Country, while theBikernet babes are frolicking and cavorting in the shores of Puerto Rico.Maybe our crew should go look for them. I hear rum and being lonely makesan explosive mix, triple treats might be heading our way, who knows.
See ya’guys next week. Jose. Bikernet Caribbean.
ANOTHER CRIME REPORT—In Bulgaria, when a man is wanted, they don’t print up tiny fliers and post them in the post offices. Here’s an example of the high level of police involvement. Since I swear that I have not reached that region on the Black Sea, I profess my innocence.
Will somebody please take that down before I get to Italy?
January 10, 2002 Part 3
By Bandit |
Continued From Page 2
Brains
In the hospital the relatives gathered in the waiting room where their family member lay gravely ill. Finally, the doctor came in looking tiredand somber. “I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad news” he said as he surveyed the worried faces. “The only hope left for your loved one at this time is a brain trans-plant. It’s an experimental procedure, semi-risky, and youwill have to pay for the brain yourselves.”
The family members sat silent as they absorbed the news. After a great length of time, someone asked: “Well, how much does a brain cost?” The doctor quickly responded, “$5,000 for a male brain, and $200 for afemale brain.”
The moment turned awkward. Men in the room tried not to smile, avoidingeye contact with the women, but some actually smirked. A man, unable tocontrol his curiosity, blurted out the question everyone wanted to ask: “Why isthe male brain so much more?” The doctor smiled at the childish innocence and soto the entire group said, “It’s just standard pricing procedure. We have to mark down the price of the female brains, because they’ve actually been used.”
Chis Tronolone
Senior Moments
An elderly couple was watching television, and they only spoke to one another during the commercials.
During one of those commercials, the husband asked his wife, “Whatever happened to our sexual relations?”
After a long thoughtful silence, and during the next commercial, the wife replied, “You know, I don’t really know. I don’t even think we got aChristmas card from them this year.”
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When the husband finally died his wife put the usual death notice in the paper, but added that he died of gonorrhea. No sooner were the papers delivered when a good friend of the family phoned and complained bitterly, “You know very well that he died of diarrhea, not gonorrhea.”
Replied the widow, “I nursed him night and day so of course I know he died of diarrhea, but I thought it would be better for posterity to rememberhim as a great lover rather than the big shit he always was.”
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An elderly couple was on a cruise and it was really stormy. They were standing on the back of the boat watching the moon, when a wave came upand washed the old woman overboard. They searched for days and couldn’t find her, so the captain sent the old man back to shore with the promise thathe would notify him as soon as they found something.
Three weeks went by and finally the old man got a fax from the boat. It read: “Sir, sorry to inform you, we found your wife dead at the bottom ofthe ocean. We hauled her up to the deck and attached to her butt was an oyster and it was a pearl worth $50,000… please advise.”
The old man faxed back: “Send me the pearl and re-bait the trap”
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A funeral service is being held for a woman who has just passed away. Attheend of the service, the pal bearers are carrying the casket out when theyaccidentally bump into a wall, jarring the casket. They hear a faint moan! They open the casket and find that the woman is actually alive!
She lives for ten more years, and then dies. Once again, a ceremony is held, and at the end of it, the pallbearers are again carrying out the casket.Asthey carry the casket towards the door, the husband cries out: “Watch that wall!”
———————————————————-
When I went to lunch today, I noticed an old lady sitting on a park bench sobbing her eyes out. I stopped and asked her what was wrong. She said, “I have a 22 year old husband at home. He makes love to me every morning and then gets up and makes me pancakes, sausage, fresh fruit and freshlyground coffee.”
I said, “Well, then why are you crying?”
She said, “He makes me homemade soup for lunch and my favorite browniesand then makes love to me for half the afternoon”.
I said, “Well, why are you crying?”
She said, “For dinner he makes me a gourmet meal with wine and my favoritedessert and then makes love to me until 2:00 a.m.
I said, “Well, why in the world would you be crying?”
She said, “I can’t remember where I live!”
———————————————————–
Two elderly ladies had been friends for many decades. Over the years they had shared all kinds of activities and adventures. Lately, theiractivities had been limited to meeting a few times a week to play cards.
One day they were playing cards when one looked at the other and said,”Now don’t get mad at me…I know we’ve been friends for a long time…but I just can’t think of your name! I’ve thought and thought, but I can’t rememberit.
Please tell me what your name is.”
Her friend glared at her. For at least three minutes she just stared andglared at her. Finally she said, “How soon do you need to know?”
American Side Road Cycles—
Another new member of the Bikernet family. Be watching for their banners and give them a visit.
Welcome aboard guys!
THE FINAL WORD– As it turns out, we only loaded 3,000 tons of cargo in Hamburg, then 13,000 tons in Antwerp and should load another 2,000 tons in Genoa for a total of 18,000. That’s within about 3,000 tons of the maximum cargo before this rusting Rickmers rolls over and sinks. We have a 15,000 horse power diesel engine (run on crude oil) with a supercharger that can push this bastard along at 17 knots as it was doing in the extra briny waters of the Mediterranean Sea.
Yesterday I was on the bridge as the captain excitedly pointed out a ship that was blasting through the waves at 24 knots(about 29 mph). He informed me that ships that can steam along at 24 to 30 knots may have from 50,000 to 150,000 hp depending on the size of the ship. He told me that they are building ships that will hold 8,000 containers. Think about that.
OK, so we’ll load up with more shit like train locomotives, cement pumper trucks, containers and I-beams in Genoa and head through the Suez Canal for Singapore, Jakarta, China (including Hong Kong and Shanghai) and Vietnam. That’s where the cargo will depart. I asked the captain today if that was the extent of it. A part of me wanted him to tell me that it was. I would have preferred that he told me he would pour the coals to MS Leon, skip across the Pacific and drop me off in San Pedro so I could see my babes at Bikernet. Ah, but not so fast. We will be picking up cargo in China and may have to make as many as three stops in Japan before crossing the Pacific and home. Fuck, where’s the Jack Daniels?
Regarding the cargo, I snatched a manifest to check it out. In the process I went over a couple of things regarding cargo with the captain. Seems everything from carousels to vibrators are loaded onto the ship under the guise of being machinery. “I was told machinery,” the captain said. “It had a brightly colored tent on it and animals on posts around the edge.”
He told me of a time when he delivered cargo to a small group of Cape Verde Islands, off Dakar, which is on the coast of Africa. The capital of this small chain of islands is called Praya or Beach or Bitch (I wasn’t sure). Seems there is a variety of people on the islands from blacks to Chinese. The Chinese controlled the islands for awhile but everyone was starving under communist rule so they kicked the Chinese off the islands. Then since they had no agriculture and the only food source was fish, the U.N. stepped in and sent the supplies. Get this. When the ship arrived with the stores, a man came down to the rickety dock and doled out the food to the people of the islands as they unloaded the cargo. Kids would run up and steal food with their own bags. It was a shopping market on the dock.
He also unloaded a piece of construction equipment that didn’t have a steering wheel but levers to steer it like some fork lifts. No one on the island knew how to drive it. He was the first mate at the time and had to get off the ship and give the owners lessons. They crashed it anyway. Here’s the final tale. He went to another island in the chain with a piece of very heavy equipment. At the time his ship did not have a crane capable of unloading it, but the island had one. As they tried to unload the equipment (like a dump truck) they discovered that the crane could not lift the dumper high enough to clear the deck. Desperation set in and the people on the island began to cry. He told them to wait, and had the ballast on the ship shifted so that the ship leaned enough to remove the equipment. He was a fuckin’ hero on that spot of soil.
So about a week ago we pulled out of Antwerp, Belgium, just after dark because the sea-going traffic was fierce. Some 20 ships were leaving at the same time. We steamed up the man made canal in Antwerp, which runs parallel to additional docks on the Schelde River. There are two sets of locks connecting the Kanaaldok to the river. We were loaded so we were forced to take the Kanaal north for 6 miles to the deeper locks. Our draft, the distance between the water level and the bottom of the hull was 9.4 meters, or about 32 feet. After the locks equalized the water levels we entered the Schelde River for the 80-mile run to the coast and the North Sea, then turned left into the English Channel
A couple days out we ran in circles to stay in calm seas as lashing in the holds were corrected. We were in the center of the Bay of Biscay, off the coast of France. As soon as we headed south we entered what is called the Summer zone and the temperature immediately rose to more comfortable levels. The weather is completely strange. In one day at 20 mph we can fully change our climate.
A day later we entered the Straights of Gibraltar, which is eight miles wide. At 1700 we passed Gibraltar in a 20 knot winds and a drizzle. The coast of Morocco is just 3 miles to our starboard. To the left, Gibraltar is just a silhouette in the fog. The Med is as calm and smooth as a lake, it’s even glassy this morning as we enter the Ligurian Sea heading into Genoa this evening.
I was going to meet some Hamsters in Italy, but they’re in Rome and too far from the coast to make the run. That’s cool. I’ve got a mission to accomplish in Genoa, and of course it involves women. I’ll report in the Sunday Post in the Cantina, then again in the Bikernet News next week on Thursday.
I’m up to Chapter 16 of both Chance Hogan books that I’m desperately working on while Layla works at getting me an agent in the states. More on that later. Remember, every day this year you have 1440 minutes to use. Unlike money, you only get to use them once, then they’re gone–forever. Take care of each one.
Ride Forever–Bandit.
January 4, 2002
By Bandit |
With the passing of another year came my birthday at the end of December. Every four years, that also marks the expiration of my Washington State Driver’s license. So, 2 days before hand, I made my way down to the local Department of Licensing office to pay the fee and get on my merry way. Well, maybe not so merry…..
I’ll get to the point. Here’s the breakdown of fees. $25 for a licence to drive any big ass non-commercial gas guzzling road hog you want. Add a commercial drivers license (CDL) – add $15 bucks. A measly $15 to drive a big semi, capable of ripping up the road and killing dozens with a single fuck-up at the wheel. Want a Motocycle endorsement?………. Add $25!
Now, why I ask, am I charged DOUBLE the licencing fee to ride a motorcycle rather than drive a passenger vehichle or pickup truck? Not only do I ride for pleasure and running errands, but I also ride 50 miles a day (when it isn’t snowing) bike back and forth to work to save fuel, traffic, and emmissions. Hell, I even take my wife with me to keep her out of the car! So why the tax? Shouldn’t people get a break on their licence for being so noble as to save the wear and tear on the roads, our natural resources, and our air quality? It seems contradictory. I can ride a bike in the carpool lane down a Washington State Highway, even when riding solo. So, why does the Department of Licensing feel the need to punish a rider when the Department of Transportation is doing what IT can to condone the use of Low Emission Vehichles?
Somebody tell me – PLEASE! Send your responses to ‘Your Shot’. We may just put togther a list of politicians we can flood with e-mails over this issue.
Thanks – Digital
Janurary 3, 2002 Part 3
By Bandit |
Continued From Page 2
A Word From Beautiful Brenda—
As I was putting this news together, I received a phone call from our resident model/spokeswoman/mistress of ceremonies/ray of sunshine – Brenda Fox.
She told me a story about Richard, the dude who bought the Blue Flame. She ran in to him at the Rock Store about a week ago and just happen to have some of the post cards of her on the Blue Flame.
She gave him some, they chatted for a bit then he rode off on that beautiful bike. A few blocks away, Richard was pulled over, (he really did make a complete stop), and was about to get a ticket when he gave the cop the postcard. The cop looked at it, then told him to get outta there! No ticket! The power of a beautiful woman.
TIME OUT–back at the ship we neared another holiday. I tell ya something had got to change about these godforsaken harbors. Every harbor is an industrial wasteland full of sharp-edged iron chunks rusting while waiting for a ship to be loaded on for a voyage to China. We live in a joyful society while our world of goods gets from place to place by being packed on rusting hulks that pull into one dour desert of junkyard steel after another. All we can see from each port we sail into are burning release valves and smoking, rotten warehouses and refineries for as far as the eye can see. In each case we need to beg someone to come to this area of the destitute to rescue us from a ghetto of cranes and fork lifts and stevedores surrounding 50-gallon drums full of cardboard and burning pallet wood to keep warm. Most of the crew, including the captain, never leaves the ship.
They never see the frozen lakes of people ice skating, or the theaters or grand museums packed with the artifacts and the legends that brought these burgs to the prominence they now enjoy. They never see the colorful night life. They never see the brightly printed magazines after they have carried the paper to port. They don?t go to shore to see the beautiful women after they hauled the machinery that made the dresses. It?s a shame. On top of their steel cells and industrial surroundings, crime strikes and violence reigns.
A couple of days before New Year’s Eve, a religious group from the seaman?s mission came on board to entertain the Filipino crew. Either during or after their couple of hours on the board, two cabins were broken into or a woman?s purse was stolen. Another babe lost her watch and assorted items off her desk while she slept. The next morning the thievery came to light and the captain was alerted. Some assumed that a member of the crew was at fault, another thought it was someone from the religious groups.
At first the captain simply shrugged as the loss wasn?t great, but I didn?t like the idea that someone had entered a woman?s cabin without the correct prompting. I pushed for action that would indicate to the wrong doer that we were going to kick some ass if it happened again. I began my own sideline Chinatown investigation, although I wished I had Jean Harlow at my side during the cavernous hunt into the seaport underworld. I discovered that this harbor, as most harbors aside from Hamburg, had very poor security and people wander on and off ships without so much as a sign-in list. There is no security at the gang planks and kids sneak onto ships and usually hit whatever is close to an exit. The Antwerp police admitted that there are gangs that roam the dark port streets busting into anything they can carry away and attack ships and predominately captains? cabins. That?s where the electronic equipment and cash is. The investigation continues with constant and unrelenting questioning of any young woman I can find.
Two nights later I slipped off the rotting hulk of a tuna can that carries cargo around the world and slid into the ornate world of the Hilton in downtown Antwerp.
Into the ballroom we strolled enjoying the high fashion of women in slinky dresses that slid on their silky skin and old farts in tuxedos. As we sat through one course after another in the lavish presence of the town?s high society, two things struck me: One was the ship and its imprisoned crew cooking another whole pig and drinking whiskey surrounded by cold steel walls and snow capped darkness.
I was suddenly enveloped in lurid visions of my fugitive past. I don?t know what befell me, if it was the tall beautiful blonde two tables away who sought my attention with each sip of wine as her husband spoke to her intently. She wore a loose fitting gown that was held on by two miniscule straps that danced on her otherwise naked shoulders. The silver gown flowed over her unencumbered Rubenisque breasts. Her golden hair was pulled to the back of her head and held with a silver tie that revealed the soft curve of her neck, like Layla wears her hair at home. Something came over me like a silver bullet from my past, a revelation of my sins with women. I thought of the pain I inflicted on my last wife. It wasn?t a mere consideration, but a flashback of painful moments, relationship torpedoes launched in a sea of tears. I reached for my glass of wine, but knew full well that it wouldn?t hide the missile that was all too clear and irreversible. Another bomb came as the image of my first wife crying appeared in my heart. I couldn?t shake them, as if I was forced to relive my tainted past as the New Year approached.
In the Sunday post I mentioned that as a New Year?s resolution we should make a woman smile, something I love to do. In my mind I fight the rules and my spirit fights for freedom while my heart cries for the pain I?ve inflicted. I?m not sure there is an answer, but there is loyalty and truthfulness. I wish all relationships would be filled with joyous days and never end. I wish pirates had a source of maidens who understood their spirit and let them wander unhampered. I suppose if you?re a pirate, you must admit it and ride or sail away to another port as we will in two days. Ah, me laddy, it?s to Genoa, Italy, and another adventure.
We left the bright lights and slinky skirts and returned to the tarnished ship before midnight to spend the last moments of 2001 with the crew. But due to my efforts to enhance security, the gangplank had been raised while the officers and crew partied on the bridge and tried to look past the dark and dour conditions of the harbor to see the fireworks in the distance through the fog. We stood on the snow-covered concrete dock in the dark as the ship?s horn announced the beginning of a new year and a crew member hustled to our assistance. Have a wonderful 2002, and make every day count for something.–Bandit
Janurary 3, 2002 Part 2
By Bandit |
Continued From Page 1
INSIDER HORSE TRADING–Recently, our Web master and bad guy sleuth, the Digital Gangster, began to sneak links into bike mag e-mail portals so we can scoop up insider information on several magazines. Here?s a report on the outlandish chopper mag HORSE:Although I write from this address (military), it’s not the address I want bookmarked for obvious reasons. The recon account is being cancelled, so it will be no more! Just wanted to pass that on.
I’m working on issue 23 right now. I’d like submissions by the 15th, or at least let me know what you’re planning on submitting, so I know how much space to allow. I already have something from Englishman, some great stuff by the way. I also have something from Indiana Bill. Rod, let me know if you’re going to do a short write up on Tony’s Knuck.
Shows are right around the corner: Cincinnati, Indy and Daytona. I will try to make Cincinnati, but am in doubt about Indy and Daytona for reasons related to commitments on Feb. 28, which may take the wind out of my sail. Otherwise, I’ll make them all.
WI was thinking about having the twins attend Daytona and Cincinnati. That may be more than we can afford, so any recommendations would be appreciated. I want to start putting them out and see if it’s worth having a recognizable model every year. I think it is, and will draw people to them and our magazine.
I need someone to work with Ed Martin to do a write up on a bike we’re using on the next cover. Any takers?
Matt…I like your humor; use it and do some spoofs or takes on current trends, etc. The posts on Backtalk regarding the issue with the reverse photo was good.Jon Towle, you’re a genius, regardless of what Geno says behind your back.Anyway, that’s all I have for now. -Hammer.
RUN FOR BREATH UPDATE–As often as we can, we will publish information on the 4th annual Run For Breath, sponsored by Charlotte Harley-Davidson. I was invited to be the master of ceremonies last year and rumor has it that I may have the honor of attending again this year.
This event is designed to collect contributions for a kids? asthma facility. Mike Pullin, the parts manager at Charlotte H-D, lost his son to an asthma attack five years ago and he kicked off this event in his son?s name. Last year I invited Lee Clemens from Departure Bike Works in Richmond, Va., to attend as he had recently lost his son, Travis. When Lee and Mike met, a new and lasting friendship bond was formed, and Mike has attended a Departure Bike Works event in Richmond.
The event takes place in July and we?ll give you reports from time to time including news such as: HORSE magazine will be involved through staff member and one helluva writer, Edge. He?s working with Mike and a woman called the ?Meanest? from the dealership. I don?t dare touch on this woman. If I say one nasty word about that lady, she?ll kick my ass into the middle of tomorrow.
Speakin of Mike Pullin—-
Check out his latest creation??Skeletor
Hey Bandit,Here are some pics of my 91 Springer, aka Skeletor. I changed the bars,exhaust and seat. I think it came out pretty cool! A little info on thebike. I bought the bike new in 1991. The engine has an Andrews EV46 cam,Screamin’ Eagle ignition module, S&S E carb and Samson rip saw exhaust. The rear fender is all steel — twoFat Boy fenders made into one!
Later!
Mike
ANOTHER INSIDER MAG REPORT–Here?s a snatched e-mail from the editor of Cruising Rider, Josh Placa, who hides in a cave in Sedona, Ariz. ?To twist your melon further, over, I have included the new names for thespring, summer, etc. issues, which we think make more sense. I mean, afterall, what da fuck is “Peak Season?” Readers, advertisers and even fatheadfreelancers can now know what de fuck they’re working on, over.
Spring (new name for ’02 will be March/April) — done
Summer (new name for ’02 will be May/June) — deadline 1/15 (on sale4/3/02)
Peak Season (new name is July/August — 3/15 (on sale 5/29)
Fall (new name is Sept./Oct. — 5/1 (on sale 7/24)
BIKERNET INSIDER REPORT–Since I?m halfway around the world, the only way I can maintain my heavy-handed control over every goddamn aspect of the site is to have the Digital Gangster check outgoing Bikernet e-mails. This e-mail is to some new broad Sin?s chasin?.
?YOU ARE SO NASTY…….UMMM! I do want to know more about you. Is this goingto be just a cyber thing or are you seriously wanting to know me? If so,then tell me about you and I will most likely let you wash my hair, latherme and rub lotion anywhere you desire. Sin.?
Help me out. What the hell does she mean?
ALTERNATE BIKER WEB SITE– I haven?t checked it out because I?m creeping into the middle of the ocean and it costs me mint to go online. What the hell, check it out and let me know what you think: Beauty of Speed – A state of the art power quest http://www.beautyofspeed.com/.”Dedicated to 1940s Harley-Davidson, Indian and Crocker Motorcycles speedand racing.”
Among sections noted…Updated Oct. 26, 2001Now up: a complete index ofwhere to get 45 performanceparts. Get more power!
-John
FORBES MAGAZINE NAMES HARLEY-DAVIDSON AS COMPANY OF THE YEAR
Performance, passion and outlook cited in story
MILWAUKEE — (Dec. 20, 2001) Harley-Davidson Inc. has been named Company of the Year by FORBES Magazine, one the world’s leading business publications. The honor and accompanying article entitled “Love Into Money” appears in the Jan. 7, 2002, edition of FORBES and on the magazine’s Web site at www.forbes.com.
Key factors cited for the FORBES Company of the Year award include Harley-Davidson’s record sales growth and earnings, along with strong overall financial performance. In addition, the article notes the company’s long and storied history as well as the devotion of its enthusiasts as deciding factors. “Harley-Davidson stirs passion in its riders, its dealers and its employees and translates that passion into profit,” the article states.
The article also focuses on Harley-Davidson’s new V-Rod motorcycle and its development, the Buell line of motorcycles, the Rider’s Edge New Rider Course, and the Company’s history and technological advancement.
Harley-Davidson Inc. is the parent company for Harley-Davidson Motor Company, Buell Motorcycle Company and Harley-Davidson Financial Services, Inc. Harley-Davidson Motor Company, the only major U.S.-based motorcycle manufacturer, produces heavyweight motorcycles and offers a complete line of motorcycle parts, accessories, apparel, and general merchandise. Buell Motorcycle Company produces sport and sport-touring motorcycles. Harley-Davidson Financial Services, Inc. provides wholesale and retail financing, insurance and credit card programs to Harley-Davidson dealers and customers.
DEGREES OF BLONDNESS
ONE
A married couple were asleep when the phone rang at 2 in the morning. The wife (undoubtedly blond), picked up the phone, listened a moment and said, “How should I know, that’s 200 miles from here,” and hung up.
The husband said, “Who was that?”The wife said, “I don’t know; some woman wanting to know ‘if the coast is clear.”
TWO
Two blondes are walking down the street. One notices a compact on the sidewalk and leans down to pick it up. She opens it, looks in the mirror and says, “Hmm, this person looks familiar.”
The second blonde says, “Here, let me see!” So the first blonde hands her the compact. The second one looks in the mirror and says, “You dummy, it’s me!”
THREE
A blonde suspects her boyfriend of cheating on her, so she goes out and buys a gun. She goes to his apartment unexpectedly and when she opens the door she finds him in the arms of a redhead. Well, the blonde is really angry. She opens her purse to take out the gun, and as she does so, she is overcome with grief. She takes the gun and puts it to her head. The boyfriend yells, “No, honey, don’t do it.”
The blonde replies, “Shut up, you’re next!”
FOUR
A blonde was bragging about her knowledge of state capitals. She proudly says, “Go ahead, ask me, I know all of them.”
A friend says, “OK, what’s the capital of Wisconsin?”
The blonde replies, “Oh, that’s easy W.”
FIVE
Q: What the blonde ask her doctor when he told her she was pregnant.
A “Is it mine?”
Surrogate Father
The Smiths were unable to conceive children, and elected to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, “I’m off. The man should be here soon.”
Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. Good morning madam. I’ve come to…”
“Oh, no need to explain. I’ve been expecting you,” Mrs. Smith cut in.
“Really?” the photographer asked. “Well, good! I’ve made a specialty of babies.”
“That’s what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat.” After a moment she asked, blushing, “Well, where do we start?”
“Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!”
“Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn’t work for Harry and me.”
“Well, madam, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the results.”
“My, that’s a lot of. . . ” gasped Mrs. Smith.
“Madam, in my line of work, a man must take his time. I’d love to be in and out in five minutes, but you’d be disappointed with that, I’m sure.”
“Don’t I know it,” Mrs. Smith said quietly.
The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. “This was done on the top of a bus in downtown London.”
“Oh my God!!” Mrs. Smith exclaimed, tugging at her handkerchief.
“And these twins turned out exceptionally well – when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with.”
“She was difficult?” asked Mrs. Smith.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I finally had to take her to Hyde Park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep, pushing to get a good look.”
“Four and five deep?” asked Mrs. Smith, eyes widened in amazement.
“Yes”, the photographer said. “And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling – I could hardly concentrate. Then darkness approached and I began to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just packed it all in.”
Mrs. Smith leaned forward. “You mean they actually chewed on your, um…equipment?”
“That’s right. Well, madam, if you’re ready, I’ll set up my tripod so that we can get to work.”
“Tripod?”
“Oh yes, I have to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It’s much too big for me to hold very long. Madam? Madam?…Good Lord, she’s fainted!”
A Slab Of Rocks
A team of archaeologists were working in Jerusalem when they found slabof rock with five figures carved on it. In order the figures were:
1. A Woman 2. A Donkey 3. A Shovel 4. A Fish and5. A Star of David.
After months of studying the rock and figures on it, the leader tookthe rock and went on a lecture tour. He said the carvings were severalthousands of years old but even so they revealed a lot about the peopleof that time.
1. The woman being placed first in the line of figures indicated thatwomen were held in very high esteem. It was most likely a familyoriented culture.
2. The donkey indicated they had domesticated animals. They probablyused the donkey to till the fields.
3. The shovel shows they were highly intelligent as they knew how tomake tools.
4. The fish shows they knew how to augment the crops they raised byalso reaping from the sea.
5. The Star of David of course indicates they were a very religiousgroup of people.
A little old man in the front row finally got the attention of thespeaker. When acknowledged he said………….I’m sorry to blow yourconclusions, but you were reading it left to right. In Hebrew we readfrom right to left. That way it reads……… “Holy mackerel, dig the ass on that woman!!
Rogue-
Continued On Page 3
January 3, 2002, Part 1
By Bandit |
First, some background. Belgium kicked off its history in the 13th century with cargo ships rolling across the English Channel to England. It rapidly became the heart of cargo shipping between Europe and England and vice versa. Between Brugge, Gent and Antwerp, all cities on the coast of Belgium, they had it made. But, between religious wars, the French Revolution and any other numerous catastrophes, they survived to have one helluva friendly country. If you open a map on any cobblestone street corner, a resident will step up and offer guidance.
The basis of the name of this city is wrapped around a biker of sorts. Seems there was a giant who stopped every ship that entered Antwerp along the Schelde River and demanded a toll before they could enter the port. If he wasn?t paid post haste, he hacked off one of the captain?s hands and threw it out to sea. OK, so one day this little Belgian tyke named Barbo comes along, lops off the giant?s hand and throws it to sea, putting an end to his carnage. Hence, Antwerp was named after hand throwing, which is called handwerpen.
So we arrived through another river leading in from the North Sea in blistering cold weather. Every day we have a cab take us to the train station where the Russian mafia runs diamond and jewelry shops behind a roll-up tin front. Antwerp is known for its diamond trade, with stones shipped in from South Africa. The section of town dedicated to the diamond trade is in no way connected with the mob?s hangout next to the train depot.
There are also a couple of other distinctions that need mentioning. One is the cathedrals, which are unbelievable. The ornate workmanship in churches dating back to the 1300s is beyond belief. I spent some time in a humble church as a kid before I joined the union of outlaws and never returned. But you can see why people escaped England and Europe to find religious freedom and deeper understanding. Religions controlled all that went on, all the jewels and wealth, and wielded tremendous power over the population. You can see it in every gold ornament in these churches. It?s almost frightening. The other aspect of Antwerp that?s wild is the shopping. This is a town full of narrow, winding streets with buildings that were built yesterday or nearly 1,000 years ago, side by side.
This is a woman?s paradise. There are shops everywhere, high-class joints, flea markets in parks, fish markets alongside the river, department stores, franchise Levi’s joints, and fashion, fashion and more fashion. There?s even a bird market on Theater Square on the weekends. So you would have thought that there would be thousands of knockout broads walking the streets in the latest slinky item. Hell, you couldn?t tell, they were all covered from their slinky ankles to their kissable chins with furry shit to keep them warm.
We better get to the news before I launch into the New Year’s party and the criminal element attacking the ship:
JESSE CROSSES THE LINE
Here?s a quote and news about the once- outlaw custom bike builder: ?HAPPY NEW YEAR, GOD DAMNIT!….I WENT BY YOUR PLACE YESTERDAY ON MY COPROADKING AND HIT THE SIREN! YOU HEAR IT?….JESSE JAMES.
As it turned out, there were three women in the headquarters that night trying to get high and have an orgy. Jesse?s siren scared them into thinking cops were about to invade the headquarters and ruined their night of play. Now here?s more news on West Coast Choppers:
While in Hamburg, Germany, I stumbled on a Harley boutique and two doors down was a West Coast Chopper with Jesse?s signature painted on the window. Could it be the real deal?
Jesse has become a regular on the Discovery Channel. Here?s the latest–Don’t make da Vanilla Gorilla put da Chrome to your dome! CHECK THEDISCOVERY CHANNEL JAN. 13 FOR “MOTORCYCLE MANIA 2″ & COMING SOON”MONSTER GARAGE!” SERIES ON DISCOVERY, SPRING 2002
DOWNED HAMSTER LIVES–There are special brothers in our lives and one in my life went down recently. He?s an attorney, but he?s a helluva hard riding sonuvabitch and a man who is full of wit and love for his brothers. He will always help others if given the chance. He?s one of my favorite Hamsters and a special man in every aspect of his life. Here?s a note from Hamster headquarters:
DOMINICK JUST CALLED ME. HE IS HOME FROM THEHOSPITAL AS OF TODAY AND GETTING ADJUSTED. HE JUSTWANTED ME TO TELL EVERYONE THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHINGAND GIVE HIM A FEW DAYS AT HOME TO FIGURE EVERYTHINGOUT AS FAR AS REHAB AND NURSES COMING IN AND OUT INCASE ANY ONE WANTS TO GIVE HIM A CALL.
THANKS EVERYBODY!!!!!!!!!
Continued On Page 2
December 27, 2001
By Bandit |
We women here at the Bikernet headquarters are still recuperating from Christmas, birthdays and all that other shit. You get a short News this week cause we don?t feel like working. We ran out of the mixings for White Russians so we’ve been drinking all the Jack and bad wine Bandit had lying around. We all have headaches and feel like shit. Now, if some of our readers like Old Hound Dog or that Forrest Pervert-something would be good enough to send us some Absolut vodka and Kaluha, maybe next week we?ll feel like putting together a better news for you.
Sin
And Now Some Dribble From Bandit!
Ah Christmas, a time of families and tenderness. Ah bullshit, it’s a time of lean budgets, kids with non-stop dreams of presents to the moon, Christmas lists that are too long and bank accounts too short. I escaped the treachery of Christmas, almost. I hope the rest of you survived.
You have stumbled into the Bikernet Twilight Zone. Just when you think you’ve come across one of the hottest bike sites on the Web, you discover that one of the bastards behind this mess is on a tramp freighter out of Houston ultimately bound for Houston some months later, and you’re forced to hear about it a couple of times a week. Merry Christmas.
So let me tell you about my Christmas Eve and Christmas on the MS Leon, a 20-some year old rusting hulk being stormed with cranes, stevedores, fork lifts and agents while it’s snowing or raining on the rusting decks in below-freezing weather. The design was that we would be in port for two and a half days, load this bastard with 8,000 tons of crap (22,000 ton capacity) and be on our way out the Elbe River by Christmas Eve. Not so, Kimosabe. We discovered rapidly that management and the union contracts are from different planets. What management plans rarely happens. On the other hand, while management and supercargo agents sit on the ship, sip espresso and eat cookies while expressing their dismay at the efficiency of the teams on the dock, there are 50 men standing in the freezing cold as the wind is blowing snow at 30 knots across the main deck of the ship. If they had ice skates, they could be practicing loops on the frozen concrete dock.
On Christmas Eve it was explained to us that since many of the longshoremen extend their days off with vacation time, the teams were dwindling. Instead of being able to work around the clock, the units could only work until 10 p.m. and started at 6 a.m. The tapering crew would knock off at 2 p.m. on Christmas Eve and wouldn’t be back until the day after Christmas. We were shut down. What was designed to be a 2.5-day in a costly port became six days. The supercargo agent also informed me that every time cargo is shifted it costs $250. It costs $150 to load a piece of cargo, but once it’s loaded, if it needs to be unloaded, moved and loaded again, that’s another quarter of a C-note. He said that much of the cargo would be removed again in Antwerp, Belgium, then replaced, and the process would be repeated in Genoa, Italy, and perhaps once more in Jakarta. I asked him how the damn company makes a profit and he threw his hands up in the air in mockery. He had no idea.
As he explained the business side of shipping, Clement, our hardworking steward, set the table for a Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve. The captain, officers and crew were requested to come into the officers’ mess and have dinner, which was an assortment of many things, including whole fish and turkey. The captain explained that the real feast would start at noon on Christmas and would continue until midnight with drink and food available all day. I noticed that many of the Filipino crew were uncomfortable eating with the officers and escaped as quickly as possible to the crews’ lounge and a wild karaoke festival.
We better get to the news:
Happy Freakin’ Birthday Digital!—
The paint for the rigid showed up today, just in time for the old man to check one more year off on the hitchin’ post on the 29th. Here’s a sneak peek at Jon’s artwork on tank. Suppose now I’m going to have to get off my ass and actually finish this beast.
-Digital
Bikernet Caribbean Report—
Christmas is over, the New Year is lurking around the corner and we arestill here, week after week. Santa behaved and got me a Playstation 2 formy truck. Now those long trips to Sturgis will be more entertaining, with gamesand DVDs on a small screen. Technology, go figure. Maybenow our road trip partners will manage to stay awake during the trek.The WCC No. 2 started yesterday (yep, we worked Christmas day) and willbe on the road before 2002. A full shoot will be coming up in followingweeks as well as an article in The Horse. By the way, it stopped raining,at last! Although seems there?s some more weather on the way. As you allmight know, Bandit is on terra firma at last, somewhere in Europe. Good forthe USS Rustbucket, which made it all the way. I’m guessing he is heading forthe Southern Seas. That’s like being on the moon, and the Atlantic tripwill seem like a cruise in the bay compared to the 40s and 50s. Maybe hewill not suffer the Southern after all. If he?s cruising the Med, he willhave a ball (no pun intended) when he crosses the equator, if the Rust boatfollows tradition, that is.
There’s no news this week, just this short note, and a well-meantwish for the new year.This year has been a tough one for many people all over the planet, andstuff has happened that we only see in movies.Retail has been at its worst in 10 years and young people arekilling and dying in various parts of the world.We will miss the two huge buildings in Manhattan and mourn the people whodied in them. Our world (and I mean our everyday living) has changedforever, although we will learn to accommodate those changes. All we can dois look and await this new year with hope, and know things will alwaysget better. We at Caribbean Custom Cycles and me personally wish everyoneat Bikernet and our readers the best NEW YEAR 2002, and that yourresolutions last longer than a week this time.
Take care and again happy New Year!
Jose. Caribbean Bikernet Report
Jose@ChopperFreak.com.
Woodpeckers
A Mississippi woodpecker and a Texas woodpecker were in Mississippi arguing about which state had the toughest trees to peck.
The Mississippi woodpecker said that they had a tree that no woodpecker could peck. The Texas woodpecker challenged him and was able to peck a hole in the tree with no problem. The Mississippi woodpecker was in awe.
The Texas woodpecker then challenged the Mississippi woodpecker to peck a tree in Texas that no woodpecker had been able to peck successfully. The Mississippi woodpecker expressed confidence that he could do it and accepted the challenge.
After flying to Texas, the Mississippi woodpecker successfully pecked the tree with no problem. The two woodpeckers were now confused. How is it that the Texas woodpecker was able to peck the Mississippi tree and the Mississippi woodpecker was able to peck the Texas tree when neither one was able to peck the tree in their own state?
After thinking for some time they both came to the same conclusion:
Your pecker is always harder when you’re away from home.
Bandit, May you, Layla and staff, and all the bikers around the world have a blessed Mele Kalikimaka and a prosperous and healthy Haouli Makahiki Hou. May 2002 be your best riding year yet. Happy Harley Days, Dick Bondano P.S. He is about to leave when the girl, who happens to be a gorgeous redhead, says in a sexy voice, “Oh Santa, please stay. Keep the chill away.” Santa replies, “HO HO HO, Gotta go, gotta go, gotta get the presents to the children, you know.” The girl drops the robe to reveal a sexy bra and panties and says in an even sexier voice, “Oh Santa, don’t run a mile; just stay for a while…” Santa begins to sweat butreplies, “HO HO HO, gotta go, gotta go. Gotta get the presents to the children, you know.” The girl takes off her bra and says, “Oh Santa… Please… Stay.” Santa wipes his brow but replies, “HO HO HO, gotta go, gotta go. Gotta get the presents to the children, you know.” She loses the panties and says, “Oh Santa… Please… Stay….” Santa, with sweat pouring off his brow, says, “HEY HEY HEY, gotta stay, gotta stay, can’t get up the chimney with my pecker this way!” If you didn?t get what you wanted for Christmas, it?s because of a woman. That’s it; now back to the German front. Christmas morning we awoke and had a small breakfast as the chef and his crew were working on preparations for the noon Christmas feast. At noon the captain was successful in getting the entire crew around one long table. All the food was displayed buffet style with two turkeys a full pig, vegetables, lots of buttery rice, pasta salad, two types of gravy and two brands of whiskey. The pig was a biker’s run-feast cooked to perfection and the drinking got under way with whiskey, gin, wine and beer and some of the crew had all four. At dinner I returned for some chow and to take score of the survivors and party animals. Since we were requested to mix the seating in a brotherly fashion, I was the only Anglo to sit with the Filipino crew at one end of the table. I spent a great deal of my Vietnam military service in the Philippines and learned to love and respect the people on those paradise islands for their kindness and pleasantness, but as I sat at the end of the table the mood changed. It reminded me of so many experiences in the past from losing a crew member on the heavy cruiser I was stationed on to the meeting of men after a gang battle or to the meeting of a family after a member has been in a motorcycle accident. Suddenly the end of the table became quiet. Two members of the crew got up in unison and disappeared up the inside stairwell. None of the crew would look at me, not out of disrespect, but out of concern for what had occurred. I was not a part of the serious nature of what took place. The concern was deep and fearful and only shared amongst the family of men who were involved. It seems that one of the men partied too hard and drank too much. He was the one who smiled the most and sang with the best until the torment of the whiskey bottle took over and he became mad and tried to take his fury out on another member of the crew. The man inside his cabin was dismantling his bicycle for the next leg of the journey and was holding a leg of pipe as the madman stormed his quarters. He lashed out and split the angry man’s hand. I had no idea of what happened as I sat amongst the serious crew, but I had been in the midst of life and death battles and recognized the concern in men’s features, the fear in bowed faces and edgy gestures like nail biting andr nervous twitches. They spoke to one another in only Filipino except to use a term that wasn’t in their dictionary from time to time, such as: Self defense and star witness. A crewmember called to the captain finally and the captain did his duty and had the man hospitalized. His hand required surgery. He was paid and his bags were packed and delivered to the hospital. He would return to the Philippines once operated on. On the day after Christmas it was too miserable to go outside yet the ship was in full loading swing with two cranes working furiously to load crane motors, containers and crates the size of motor homes. Hatches were clanging, containers slapped against one another as the snow blew over the bow. The rumor was that the ship would depart by 8 p.m., but at 5:30 we were told that loading would take one more hour, then an hour of lashing and one more hour to get a harbor pilot on board and have the crew ready the ship to depart. That schedule was pushed an additional hour until it was nearly midnight before we pulled away from the docks and began the 100-kilometer trip out the Elbe river to the coast of Germany, where we would turn port and head west along the coast to Antwerp, Belgium, which might be a degree or two warmer but swamped in the same drizzling rain and snow as Hamburg. In studying a Hamburg weather chart, I found that the city faces 10 to 13 days of rain during every month of the year. Of course our visit took place during the 13-day season with an estimated one hour of sun daily during December. The temps average between zip and 4 degrees celsius. Not exactly a tropical paradise but a helluva beautiful city. Euro Dollars are going into effect the first of the year an it’s difficult to exchange money because they’re into the transition. The people of each country will have up to a year to use up their existing cash. A few countries like England, which is in financial hard times, isn’t changing just yet, but I would think it would benefit them to change as soon as possible. I’m sure opinions on that matter vary substantially. There you have it, Christmas on the battle-worn, rusting Leon heading for a New Year’s celebration in Belgium. My next report will be in the Sunday Post in the Cantina the day before New Year’s Eve. We plan to be in Antwerp until the 4th of January. Let’s see what kind of trouble I can get in there. Finally, I’ll report that tonight while in the NorthSea I will finish my 16th chapter of my second Chance Hogan book. It’s called “Tides” and is based on this worldwide adventure. If I can get the staff to go for it, we will post all of the chapters in the Cantina for new members and members who rejoin for the new year. May your holidays be safe, secure and packed full of warm sex. Ride Forever, Bandit.
A beautiful innocent young lady wants to meet Santa Claus so she puts on arobe and stays up late on Christmas Eve. Santa arrives, climbs down thechimney and begins filling the socks. 
December 20, 2001 Part 3
By Bandit |
Continued From Page 2
Like I said bikers dig an adventure, like Dave Barr, the ex-mercenary/double amputee who has ridden all over the goddamn world on various Harleys and written a couple of books. Since he’s already done that with a lot of class, I had to do something different. It’s a week from Christmas and I’ve been on board for three weeks.
We are now a few hours from the English Channel and will be most happy to see it. It’s been a rough crossing on several accounts. For a few days no one could take showers because it would have been tantamount to jumping in a blender and turning it on high. We were riding the edge of a storm.
It’s calm now, but there’s one aspect of this adventure that’s really interesting. It’s a learning experience daily. I’ve now been through a jammed course on the Gulf Stream and how it affects the weather in Europe. If it weren’t for this super highway of warm water slicing from the tropics into the Atlantic, most of Europe would be as frozen as Canada. It also causes tremendous storms in this region because the warm water brings the lows and the cold above it sends down the high-pressure, clockwise storms stirring up nasty winds.
After we survived the storms we were running almost due east. Generally the wind runs at a high force east and northeast, crashing into the highs. But for two days we’ve been running smack dab into a westerly wind driving directly at us. OK, you say, what’s the big deal? On the positive side, we haven’t rolled for two days, but we’re like a bike going up a hill over speed bumps. We’re pitching like crazy, which is livable, but it causes the single screw to jump out of the water, or since the ship is not carrying cargo, the screw is bouncing to the surface and spins free. When it happens, this motherfucker shakes like a rigid on a washboard dirt road. When the screw hits the water ahead, the sonuvabitch jumps and jerks like a tire finally grabbing the pavement. The result of the jump and grind in the middle of the ocean is that the captain must make a decision. He can pour the coals to this baby and tear it from stem to stern or back off until the bulkheads don’t shake. No problem, right? When you’re talking about a ship that does 20 knots max (about 23 mph), if you knock that back to 13 knots, you’re adding hours, maybe days to the crossing. When you’re a horny sonuvabitch like me, that’s fuckin’ devastating news.
One final note and one additional aspect to the adventure is that we don’t know where the fuck the ship’s gonna go until we load the sucker in Hamburg, the home port, and even then the schedule changes constantly. We were originally told that we would be docked at home base for seven days and many of the officers alerted their families in Poland to meet them on the coast for Christmas. Then the itinerary was changed to four to five days, but yesterday we were told that we would only have a couple of days in port. Then it’s on to Antwerp for a few more. Then we’re wailing to who knows where.
Ah, but rest assured that all is well. We had a fire drill the other day and from the bridge deck the Filipino crew pulled out the hose and ran it across the deck with the nozzle in hand. It took a good 10 minutes for the forward pump to spring forth with the much- needed salt aqua, and as soon as the hose filled to capacity it split down the middle. Finally the hose was changed. We waited another 10 minutes for the water to reach the nozzle and it sprung forth with so little pressure it would have had a problem extinguishing a match at 15 feet.
Hey, no problem. My challenge is to find Harleys and women in Hamburg. We’re now nine hours time difference from L.A. so calls are a treat. That’s my excuse and report for this week. I’m also running another one in the Cantina Sunday Post. I’ll be reporting from Hamburg on Sunday. This is making for an interesting Christmas. Reports from the front are that the Bikernet crew put up a Christmas tree in the headquarters last night and the Bikernet mad feline, Lucky, attacked it this morning.
OK, goddamnit, go for a ride and have a cold one on me.
Merry, merry Bandit.
December 20, 2001 Part 2
By Bandit |
Continued From Page 1
Big Bore Report –
Part 1 –
Put about 550 miles on the new Dyna and it was slow. So… This week wetook it all apart, attached is a picture. We are in the process ofinstalling: 6200 RPM ignition box and new coil, 44 millimeter SE CV carb,211 cams, 1550 big bore cylinders, 10.5:1 compression ratio dome top bigborepistons, High Torque Compression Chamber (HTCC) high performance heads, SEroller rockers and a few other little do dads to make her just a tiny bitfaster. The little 88 inch is now a mere 95 inch motor so it should have a couplemore horses. 🙂 She should be back together by this weekend and aftertheshort break in I will let you know what the Dyno specs end up being. I ampushing for 100HP and 110 foot pounds of torque.
Cheers, – Kyle
Part 2 –
The project is nearly done. Motor is all built and I ran it on the Dynotoday and came up with some pretty impressive figures. Attached is a copyofthe Dyno run. There is a serious dip in the torque and horse power in the2,500 to 3,500 range but I hope to fix that by changing my exhaust to aThunderHeader. 🙂
Cheers, – Kyle
DISCRIMINATION OR BIKERS RIGHTS?
I recently came across an article writtenby Dale McFeatters of Scripps-HowardNews Service. In a column he wrote, he blasts bikers in general and doesn’tsee why we or anyone else would want anti-discrimination laws to protecteveryone regardless of religion, lifestyle or mode of transport, or anyotherthing such as race, creed or national origin. The Sack has spacelimitations or I would reprint his entire article so I could give him FULLcredit for being a biased fool who thinks his own rights are the only ones.
He’s upset, for some reason, because bikers in many states have fought inthelegislature for biker anti-discrimination laws. Some in fact did so viatheir state Confederation of Clubs. So this guy says all we want is to beestablished as a separate class of people. He dislikes the wealthy ridersbecause he thinks they want people to think they’re in “BIKER GANGS” whenthey ride their Harleys, but that they don’t want to be treated like “gang”members. HOGWASH! I’d bet my last dollar this fool has never been on abike, let alone been anywhere near a “BIKER GANG.” And guess what? NOBODYwants to be treated badly, biker or not. It’s all ridiculous to me, havingonly something over 50 years riding, and still to come across someonesupposedly intelligent even using the term “BIKER GANG.” Maybe I’ve missedsomething or he knows a hell of a lot more about scooter people than I do.
He also complains about one particular 300-pound biker called “Vermin.” Wellfolks, I weigh something near 240, they call me “Gunny,” and I’m not toopretty either. I still don’t like it when I ride up to a restaurant on mybike, especially when my wife is with me, and we don’t get service because”The Hells Angels” just arrived. Hollywood and some magazines have done anumber on us (AND on the Hells Angels), and we aren’t supposed to be upset?Sarcastically, he says next we’ll need laws to protect SUV owners. I’ll bethe doesn’t drive one or I guarantee he’d be bellyaching about that.
There have been several attempts in different states to modify existingdiscrimination laws. Minnesota so far is the only one that has beensuccessful. The law there protects all people, not just bikers, and itmakesit illegal to discriminate in public accommodations based on motorcycle modeof travel or attire.
What we all want is equal treatment according to the laws of the land.Don’tprofile us because we ride motorcycles and wear leather for protection fromstupid drivers such as Mr. McFeatters may be. There fool, I profiled YOUbecause of your audacity in writing such drivel.
Here’s another small example of this man’s intelligence when it comes toclubhouses. This TURKEY really did his homework: “They have their ownplaces, windowless, concrete-block establishments on the outskirts of townwhere the bar stools are bolted to the floor and the beer is served inplastic cups because of repeated unfortunate incidents with glass bottles.”If he didn’t have such an attitude, I’d bring him to one of those clubhousesfor an education. He also is angry because a Vespa rider is suing becausehewasn’t served somewhere.
By the way, Vespa riders are welcome in my house anytime. Their knees areinthe wind too. I don’t care what you ride as long as you ride. If you arediscriminated against I want to know about it. I don’t care if you ride aDOODLE-BUG. Uh-oh. I guess that remark dates me. Any doodlebug riders outthere, e-mail me, would ya? E-mail me at AIMGunny@aol.com – tell me yourdoodlebug story. I’ll print some of them!
But back to this clown McFeatters: Most all bikers I know are educated, owntheir homes, have raised LAW-abiding children, have kids in college, andlikely earn as much or more than Mr. McFeatters. That includes those folkshe calls “GANGS.” Some of us even have more than one place to live. DON’Tprofile us unless you know what you’re talking about.
And by the way, Mr. McFeatters, the cost of our rides has nothing to dowithnot being served or not being able to get lodging after riding all day andhalf the night because of DISCRIMINATION. We want ALL people protected fromred-neck idiots who think this world is made for them alone. If YOU thinkYOU were discriminated against because YOU ride, you should contact yourlocal AIM (Aid to Injured Motorcyclists) Attorney by calling our nationalnumber, (800) ON-A-BIKE, or look it up at www.ON-A-BIKE.com. AIM Attorneyshandle more than just accidents. ??Nuff said.
Bikernet Caribbean Report
I just got in from the shop. It’s 3 a.m. and we are still on amad rush to finish WCC No. 2 before Christmas and some other bikes we have atthe shop with minor mods. The two EXP’s are done and in the showroom, aswell as an FXR. The Sportster is in the paint booth and time is runningout. Man, I can’t even find time to go buy presents for my family, but whatthe hell, I can’t complain.
I can’t remember what I promised last week but here’s a photo of WCC No. 2 with the sheet metal (almost) in place.
We were trying to make a card for our readers at Bikernet, but again, timewasn’t in our favor. Maybe we will manage a belated one. I’m guessing Bandit should be in Europe by now, if USS Rust Bucket is stillfloating. It’s an incredible feeling when you see land after a couple weeksat sea. I know, been there done that. At least he was doing 15 knots. We cruised at 8 tops. The only down side is that you get used to being at seaand civilization seems weird after a while, more so in a sail boat whereeverything is quiet.
Last but not least, we at Caribbean Custom Cycles want towish all our readers, the crew at Bikernet headquarters and everyone else avery Merry Christmas, peace, health and a new chopper under the tree.Now we go to the news.
Yep, it’s still raining. Most bike activities have been dampened by it, atleast it’s cooler (75-80 degrees) and everything is very green.
Today we received a call from our connection in the Dominican Republic. It seemslike the 240-250 tire fever has hit the shores of this island. More so, thefirst V-Rod was sold there at the ridiculous amount of $32,000.I’m guessing some people will buy anything at any price as long as the”factory” name is on it. Go figure!
The Toy Run took place Sunday. It had been raining since Saturdaymorning, and it seemed like people decided to stay home (smart thing todo). But still, there were about 200 people in attendance (big drop though,crowds have been in the thousands in past events).I can’t remember aToy Run where we did not get soaking wet.
We heard that our only competitor, Mansos Motorcycle, has opened a new shop.People tell me it’s around 7,000 square feet and very well stocked. I’mglad for them. What’s good for motorcycling is good for all.
We just received some cool shirts from The Horse, designed by Kozik. They havean iron cross with the U.S. flag and above says Infidel. The front has theHorse’s logo (I’m guessing that’s Kozik’s message to Osama yo’mama). CallThe Horse if interested.
Speaking of The Horse, the January issue is out and has some cool bikes, hot babesand Billy Lane’s hubless tire. Get it at your local chopper shop.
Time to go get that needed rest. The shopping rush will start prettysoon and longer days and nights will follow. I guess we won’t bereporting next week, or maybe yes, since it’s the day after Christmas. Weare also working on the Web site and we have a new e-mail address. It isJose@ChopperFreak.com, please feel free to use it. Once more, MerryChristmas to all and have a good night, I know I will. And like every week,to the Weasels…… We wish you twice what you might wish for us.
Jose Caribbean Bikernet chopped out agent.
THE ORIGIN OF MAN’S SEX LIFE
It seems that when the Lord was making the world, he called man over and bestowed upon him 20 years of normal sex life. Man was horrified. “Only 20 years of normal sex life?” But the Lord was very adamant, that was all man could have.
Then the Lord called the monkey and gave him 20 years. “But I don’t need 20 years,” he protested, “10 is plenty for me.” Man spoke up eagerly, “Can I have the other 10?” The monkey graciously agreed.
Then the Lord called the lion and gave him 20 years, and the lion, like the monkey wanted only 10. Again, the man spoke up, “Can I have the other 10?” The lion said that of course he could.
Then came the donkey and he was given 20 years. But like the others, 10 was sufficient, and again man pleaded, “Can I have the other 10?” The donkey said that yes, he could.
This explains why man has 20 years of normal sex life, plus 10 years of monkeying around, 10 years of lion about it, and 10 years of making an ass of himself.
Love,
Puss-in-Boots
Bikernet Joke
An elderly married couple scheduled their annualmedical examination on the same day so they could traveltogether. After the examination, the doctor then said to theelderly man: “You appear to be in good health. Do you haveany medical concerns you would like to ask me?” “In fact, I do,” saidtheold man. “After I have sex with my wife,the first time I am usually hot and sweaty, and then, after Ihave sex with her the second time, I am usually cold and chilly.” Afterexamining the elderly lady, the doctor said, “Everythingappears to be fine. Do you have any medical concerns that youwould like to discuss with me?” The lady replied that she had noquestions or concerns. The doctor then asked: “Your husband had anunusualconcern.
He claims that he is usually hot and sweaty after having sex thefirst time with you and then cold and chilly after the second time.Do you know why?” “Oh that crazy old son-of-a-bitch!” she replied.”That’s becausethe first time is usually around July and the second time is usuallyin December!”
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