As usual when I visit my 78-year-old mom, she slips me clippings of stories she reads about motorcycles. As she slid this one onto the desk, I noticed that it was the same one Earl McNeely sent me from federal prison in Texas. When I was in Vietnam, my mom sent me clippings about guys who were wiped out on motorcycles. Of course that was to push her feelings on helmets. Years later, she gave up on helmets and fought along side of me in the name of freedom, at least intellectually.

On one recent afternoon, she gave me an article fromThe Los Angeles Times about a guy named Harold Benich, who turned his Softail into a soybean-burning bastard. When I first read the short piece and studied the photograph, I got the impression that he had altered anEvo engine to make it run on diesel fuel, but that wasn’t thecase. He had replaced the Evo engine with a small displacement dieselturned sideways in the frame. According to the National BiodieselBoard in Jefferson City, Mo., it is the first diesel-poweredmotorcycle in the country to run.

I gave Harold a call and found out that soybean oil iscombustible at 300 degrees, which makes it very user friendly. Standarddiesel fuel is combustible at 150 degrees, although there is asubstantial difference in the flash point. “If diesel oil prices gotoo high, the trucking industry could turn to soybean fuel,” Haroldexplained. He gets 100 miles to the gallon. Unfortunately, soybean oil is $2.50 a gallon, compared with $1.39 a gallon for gas in Pennsylvania. With diesel fuel prices cresting the 2-buck mark, soybean fuel could become an alternative.

According to the Biodiesel Board, trucks, cars and even planesrun on food oils. But the motorcycle crowd may be reluctant to playsince the installation of diesel motors in their bikes, as Harold hasdone, may reduce their ability to have kick-ass power. “Soldiersrode such bikes during the world wars to save fuel, but since thenthey’ve gone the way of the Edsel,” said Jenna Higgins, a spokeswomanfor the Biodiesel Board, a trade group that promotes food oils asgasoline alternatives.

The 21 HP Perkins Diesel pumps up to 35 horses!

The positive aspect of soybean fuel is its cleanliness, before and after it’s digested by a diesel engine. “You can eat this stuff,” Harold said. “Cleanup consists of a little water on a rag. It’s wonderful.” Soybean oil is consistent and readily available. “When others speak of alternativefuels, they are often referring to waste vegetable oils. These oilsare not consistent and should be used in home furnaces whereconditions don’t change,” Harold explained. “Soybean is pure, can bepurchased in 5-gallon buckets or tanker trucks full. Some waste oilscontain animal fat, peanut oil or even canola oil. Just depends onthe quality of oil a restaurant pays for.”

Another garage-inventor, Hugh Gerhardt of Holland, Mich., is working on a custom bike that will take a rider from Corpus Christi, Texas, to San Diego, Calif., on a 12-gallon tank of soybean oil.

According to Jeffery Bair of The Associated Press, “Harold’sbike gets 100 mpg, roars like a jackhammer and smells like a freshbatch of McDonalds fries.”

Harold used $15,000 in H-D parts and an engine he rescuedfrom a construction site. “People wonder whether I have come to mowthe lawn,” he said. “It doesn’t accelerate like a stock H-D, andcosts a third more to run currently (4 cents a mile compared with3 cents a mile for the stock bike), but the fuel won’t catch fire andit runs so clean even the fish will eat this stuff. It’s also readilyavailable. Currently, due to the influx of foreign oils, farmers arepaid not to grow crops of soy. If demand grew, the likelihood ofreduced production costs are great and the price would drop, makingit even more competitive with fossil fuels.”

Using food oils for fuel is not a new concept, according to the AP story. “Inventor Rudolph Diesel ran the first diesel engines on peanut oilin the 1890s, and Erwin Rommel, the crafty German general, putcooking oil in tanks when they ran out of gas in the Sahara Desertduring World War II.”

Some vehicles combine food oils and standard fuels, accordingto a fuel salesman, but Harold wanted to go where few had gonebefore. He attempted to make the standard aircleaner cover concealhis sideways engine. It works until he fires that sucker up. “Some guys just thought it was a Softail, until I start it.”

Harold grew up in the Great Lakes Region near Erie,Penn. “I started riding with a Harley Sprint when I was 14.”Although his wife thinks he’s nuts, they’ve stayed hitched for 11years. “We live five miles from Albion, which is a town of 2,500.We’re in the sticks. My neighbor thinks I’m building a space shuttlein my garage.” Harold worked for Detroit Diesel for 14 years beforejoining the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections’ VehicleRestoration Department. “We have 60,000 square feet and it’s packedwith vehicles to tinker with.”

Harold suffers from rider’s block (snow) from October untilearly April. “We still have snow on the ground fromHalloween, when it started. This year we had record count. Currentlywe’re up to 180 inches of snow for the season. I bought a ’92 Fatboyand was riding it when my neighbor suggested, ‘Your next bike willhave to be diesel.'”

Harold started thinkin’ and the snow started falling and thenext thing he knew he was buying a 2000 frame, transmission, frontend and controls. “The bike is Bozo-proof,” Harold said. “It operatesjust like a stock bike, no strange controls, levers or switches.”

Harold started playing with alternative fuels a decade ago. “I had adiesel generator that ran on soybean oil. I was generating my ownelectricity for nothing.”

There’s the story of Harold, a brother, an inventor and a manconcerned about the country’s fuel problems. We’ll keep in touch with him and see where he goes with this. Wonder if he can make whiskey…

–Bandit

Biketoberfest shot from Roque.

Biketoberfest is a wrap, and we have the story thanks mostly to Rogue our Florida imbedded moto-journalist for over 30 years. We’re hitting the news hard this morning. We made a pre-dawn run to the Sacred Grounds for a pot of 92 Octane coffee. We dropped the blonde off on her favorite street corner and picked up parts for the Shrunken FXR.

We’re busting our asses on a killer tech that should roll onto the site before the end of the weekend. Then we’ll kick back with a shot of Whiskey and read holiday fiction that will curl the toes of your boots, cause you to sit on the edge of your barstool and keep an eye on the exit sign for a month.

Let’s get to the news:

Photo from Rogue.

BIKETOBERFEST ROLLS INTO THE SUNSET–DAYTONA BEACH — Chalk it up to crisp, fine weather or the mechanics of chance, but bikers lingered Sunday, bringing Biketoberfest to a slow close.Daytona Beach’s Main Street was packed this weekend as Biketoberfest 2003 enjoyed four days of mild temperatures and clear skies.

Few vendors, bar owners or hoteliers were complaining.At 5:30 in the evening, Main Street clothing stores were packed with last-day deal seekers, and the sidewalks were brimming.

“We had a lot more foot traffic than last year,” said Chicago resident Matt Norskoy, who was selling T-shirts under a tent at Oleander and Main.

At the Full Moon Saloon, where turkey drumsticks were still moving and beer tubs still “womanned,” executive Brian Romain said he had hoped to attract a younger crowd this year — and did.Romain, whose company also owns Dirty Harry’s across the street, brought in 12 bands for a broad mix of music. Though decibel meters had to be used all weekend to keep the volume within the city’s noise limits, the strategy attracted “a lot of younger riders on crotch rockets” in addition to the Harley-Davidson crowd.

Down south in Samsula, the band played on at Sopotnick’s Cabbage Patch Bar, where both the patrons and bikes tended to have more miles on them.

Scott Hall, the pianist for the Massachusetts-based Drunk Stuntmen, said during a break that the band had loved Biketoberfest, as usual, but were wiped out after four straight nights.”And sick of beer, and sick of weed,” he added, before being collected by fellow band members to go on a helicopter ride over Samsula.

“Business is possibly bigger than last year,” said Cabbage Patch owner Ron Luznar, walking barefoot through the tent city around the bar.

His friend One-Eyed Red, meanwhile, sat at the bar’s front door, enjoying the cool air and showing off copper roses he’d sculpted. Inside the bar was a realistic, if enormous, cabbage he’d fashioned from motorcycle fenders as a gift to Luznar.

Red said he thought the bike-week events could benefit from a stronger artistic presence in addition to the T-shirts. And that the crowd on Main Street in Daytona Beach was a little too green and rich for his taste.

The richer ones did fill the Adam’s Mark hotel to capacity — including the presidential suite with its grand piano, jumbo Jacuzzi and views from river to sea.

As for the size of the crowd overall, event organizers could only guess, but said it looked close to last year’s estimated 100,000 — despite the recent Harley-Davidson centennial in Milwaukee, which some feared would steal thunder from Biketoberfest.

–By VIRGINIA SMITH
Staff Writer, Daytona News Journal

–from Rogue

ALL NEW PAUGHCO WEBSITE–If you need old school frames, narrow or wide springer front ends, or parts for Pans and Knuckles, check the Paughco site. They are rocking with tradition. In fact, if you read our latest East Bay history, in the Cantina, the Paughco family was there in the beginning. Check it out.

Shot from Jill Z.

BIKERNET STUDY, FEMALE HORMONES IN BEER– Yesterday, scientists for Health Canada suggested that men should take alook at their beer consumption, considering the results of a recent analysis that revealed the presence of female hormonesin beer. The theory is that drinking beer makes men turn into women.

To test the finding, 100 men were fed 6 pintsof beer each. It was then observed that 100% of the men gained weight, talked excessively without making sense, becameoverly emotional, couldn’t drive, failed to think rationally, argued over nothing and refused to apologize when wrong. Nofurther testing is planned.

–from Chris T.

WOMEN IN THE WIND — When Jennifer Chaffin climbed off the back of her husband’s motorcycle and onto one of her own, she had no way of knowing how many women she would influence.

Now, 20 years later, the Edgewater grandmother joins women from across the country in celebrating a defining moment in their lives, when they take control of their destinies and move from the back of a motorcycle as members of Leather and Lace Women’s Motorcycle Club.

“I have completed my goal,” Chaffin said. “Giving women the freedom to ride a Harley.”

And that’s exactly what she’s doing with her “sisters” during Biketoberfest.Chaffin is the founder and president of the Edgewater-based club, which has about 200 members nationally. The sisters — as they call themselves — are tall and short, thin and hefty, tattooed and not, boisterous and shy. What they have in common is a twin-angel symbol of Lace they wear on their back, a feminine bond that stretches across the miles, and a fierce independence.

These women may ride next to their men on occasion, but they are individuals willing to stand up for themselves and each other, Chaffin said. They are not going to ride in the back of the pack and make the potato salad, she added.

But this respect did not come easily.”We started this because the men said we could not ride on our own,” club member Kat Shaw of Melbourne said, talking about the attitude some male motorcycle club members showed toward women riding on their own. “They would cut off our patches with knives.”

Lace members were not the first women to take the handlebars. Women have been riding since these two-wheeled steeds were invented.

Effie Hotchkiss rode from New York to San Francisco and back — her mother in a sidecar alongside — in 1915. And Dot Robinson started the Motor Maids in 1930s, the oldest women’s motorcycle organization in North America.

According to a 1998 survey by the Motorcycle Industry Council, a California-based industry trade group, 8.1 percent of motorcycle owners and 17 percent of operators are female.

The 1998 study also showed the median age of women riders is 38.5 years; they have a median income of $52,730 annually; most work in professional or managerial jobs and more hold college or post-college degrees than their male counterparts.

Harley-Davidson’s 2002 buyer demographics show 9 percent of its customers are women.

Genevieve Schmidt, editor of Woman Rider Magazine, said women are the fastest growing segment of the motorcycle market, an explosion that started in the mid-1990s.”Women came into their own in our society, such as owning their own businesses,” she said. “Motorcycles are a way of expressing their self-confidence and self-esteem. Women are also seeing more women on bikes and saying to themselves, ‘If she can do that, so can I.’ “

–By MARK I. JOHNSON
Staff Writer, Daytona News Journal

–from Rogue

HORSE PROJECT EGO–We would love to see Geno’s new chopper, but he only sent a shot of his tank with the HORSE magazine partner’s name pinstriped onto the top. So what about the rest of the flaming machine? What gives? Suppose we must run out and steal the next issue off the newsstand? We’re waiting for answers.

BIKERNET HALLOWEEN PARTY– A couple were invited to a swanky family masked fancy dress Halloweenparty. The wife got a terrible headache and told her husband togo tothe party alone. He, being a devoted husband, protested, but she argued and said she was going to take some aspirin and go to bed and there was no need for his good time to be spoiled by not going.

So he took his costume and away he went. The wife, aftersleeping soundly for about an hour, woke without pain and as itwas still early, decided to go to the party. As her husband didn’t know what her costume was, she thought she would have some fun by watching her husband to see how he acted when she was not with him.

So she joined the party and soon spotted her husband in his costume, cavorting around on the dance floor, dancing with every nice “chick” he could and copping a little feel here and a little kiss there.

His wife went up to him and being a rather seductive babe herself, he left hisnew partner high and dry and devoted his time to her. She let him go as far as he wished, naturally, since he was her husband.After more drinks he finally he whispered a little proposition in herear and she agreed, so off they went to one of the cars and hadpassionate intercourse in the back seat.

Just before unmasking atmidnight, she slipped away and went home and put the costume away andgot into bed, wondering what kind of explanation he would make up forhis outrageous behavior. She was sitting up reading when he came in, so she asked what kind of time he had.

“Oh, the same old thing. You know I never have a good time when you’renot there.”

Then she asked,”Did you dance much?”

He replied, “I’ll tell you, I never even danced one dance. When I got there, I met Pete, Bill Brown and some other guys, so we wentinto the spare room and played poker all evening.”

“You must have looked really silly wearing that costume playing pokerall night!” she said with unashamed sarcasm.

To which the husband replied, “Actually, I gave my costume toyour Dad, apparently he had the time of his life.”

–Rogue

Old shot from Bob T.

COPS ROLL INTO BIKETOBERFEST– “Thefts of motorcycles is our biggest issue during Biktoberfest,” said Detective Mark Cheatham. “We use the bicycles because we have better mobility to get around the crowds. It’s much easier than cruising around in a car.”

The three detectives and two bicycle unit officers who make up the Biketoberfest detail said they mainly weave in and out on their mountain bikes among the pedestrians that clog the sidewalks. Their main objective is watching for anyone who is acting furtively around a motorcycle.

“You can tell who’s acting funny around a bike,” Quartier said. “Most of these bikes are pretty expensive.”

The crowds were thick Friday on Ridgewood Avenue in front of the Highlander Restaurant just south of the Police Department. Dozens of white tents crammed the sidewalks as merchants hawked everything from motorcycle parts to leather halter tops. They contrasted sharply with the moving sea of black leather and chrome.

–By LYDA LONGA
Staff Writer, Daytona News Journal

–from Rogue

Continued On Page 2

On to Part Two…

The Project Crew List

The Project Crew List

This bike represents one of the many reasons I love motorcycles. Scooters have stood beside me through jobs, five marriages and various relationships that thankfully didn’t result in more weddings. There comes tough-as-broken-spokes-times during relationship hell that a man needs all his faculties and all the positive influences the biker world can afford him. This scooter carried me through one of those eras.

I fell in love, head over heals, for a women with loose hinges, mental instability and great tits. I was lost in a black hole of infatuation with an evil being. My draw was stronger than heroin to an addict. I fought it night and day, usually unsuccessfully. I worked as hard as my fleeting concentration would allow. I hit the gym harder and tried to focus on other women including my lovely ex who I abandoned. I failed miserably.

In the center of this fiery hell a call came from Randy Simpson of Milwaukee Iron. “I have just the thing you need,” Randy told me, “but you have to hang on while we restore it.” Those words twisted inside me.

I’m not sure my mind and vocal cords were connected, but in a deeper sense I believed that Randy understood my tsunami pain. His business had grown quickly, and we spoke almost weekly about the industry and his own expanding-enterprise woes. During a rough winter the snow piled so high on his building that the roof collapsed. Talk about a single motion that can knock an man’s lifestyle to its knees.

Randy recognized the wavering tone of my distant voice from Lynchburg, Virginia to Los Angeles and understood a deeper motorcycle related need. He purchased this running flat track racer complete in ’83 from Rick Allen and Ed Rich from Asheboro, North Carolina. It lacked only basic fasteners and the original clutch pack. Weekly Randy reported on restoration progress and the sheet metal paint scheme which was sent to Dawn Holmes in Prescott, Arizona. At that point I planned to escaped the inner city and hide in a small condo on the edge of town.

Each time the phone rang Randy’s hopeful tone momentarily released me from a lover’s doldrums. I sensed that he was taking a mental dip-stick to my heart in addition to accounting for the bike. I perceived in my mind that I would overcome this affliction. I knew that I was not alone, that men and women all over the globe were facing heartbreaks. Weekly, in the news, the terror of relationships-gone-wrong splashed across headlines. Recently a man attempted to kill all four of his kids to express his rage over a woman. I prayed I wouldn’t stoop to anything foolish or destructive. I told my brothers, fleeing from terrible break-ups, that there’s another woman with the touch, beauty and heart to erase your pain. During the onslaught of emotional terror, it’s hard to imagine.

During a weekly check-up, Randy explained that most reconstructions, especially race bikes, begin with frame straightening. Milwaukee Iron houses a rare, original, precise chassis table for just such chores. After stripping the bike, frame truing came first. Milwaukee Iron trues and modifies frames constantly

I couldn’t concentrate on the technical aspects of the renovation. A brother recently stared at me across a table and pointed out examples of men, in the industry, who destroyed their businesses and lives through break-ups. The community property law can cut a company so fast it never recovers. Even more importantly, it often slits a man’s ambitious drive like a 16-penny nail through a tire at 100 mph. When deflated some guys can’t reach the can of Fix-O-Flat. Life is wild.

One week while Randy was taking my temperature he told me that Rick and Ed developed a Harley Museum in Asheboro called American Classic with 36 notable Harley-Davidsons and assorted memorabilia. He actually told me the address at 1170 US Highway 64 West, but I lost it (I had to call information). The number is (336) 629-9564.

When that ’39 WLDR was delivered I was moving into my stucco cave on the outskirts of society. I lived upstairs and a neighborhood kid and I struggled to haul that little 45 cubic inch flat track racer to the top of the stairs. I surrounded myself with motorcycle art, memorabilia and that ’39 WLDR. I looked at it from day to day and told myself that this classic would feel no pain even if my heart was crumbling. The quality of the Dawn Holmes intricate paint scheme wouldn’t change. The frame wouldn’t rust but remain strong and resilient, always a solid quality example of motorcycling history.

That motorcycle is still with me, remaining an inspiration, still looking as good as the day she rolled off the truck. It’s a constant reminder that as human beings we can bust up our own lives, partnerships, and relationships. We destroy or build, it’s our choice. Randy proved to me that while I was fumbling inside, he was creating new products, rebuilding his shop and had the time to restore this classic on the side, in 120 hours. He reminded me of the essence of friendship and the quality of accomplishment.

Remember brothers and sisters, when life is bleakest, there are the fine lines of a custom or antique motorcycle to releash and the open road recalling pure freedom. At our grease-stained fingertips is the constant opportunity to attain distinction and the hardened steel drive to reach the next brilliant achievement.

Dust your down-trodden-self off and hit the road. Thanks Randy.

–Bandit

My third cup of Saturday mornin’ coffee had yet to eat its waythrough my stomach lining when I rolled out in search of Larry Beintker andhis notorious Evo chopper. I’d seen this incredible scoot at the FresnoAutorama, but didn’t get to talk with Larry about the beast. Now was mychance to see it off the rotating platform, and away from the garish neonlights, and to find out a bit about what makes it tick.

First, I learned a bit about Larry from a mutual friend; Bobby Z.,of Final Finishes metal polishing. Seems that Larry’s been buildin’beautiful scooters for years but managed to stay outa the spotlight, unlikesome of his ol’ drinkin’ buddies like Arlen Ness. Larry has some storiesabout the wild times of the ‘sixties and ‘seventies, when he, Arlen, and afew others were buildin’ those radical block-long choppers, an’ partyin’like there was no tomorrow. That’s fodder for another wild tale. Right now,let’s take a look at this yella man-eater!

When I got to Larry’s shop, he’d already rolled the scooter out, andwiped it down. We decided on a place for some pictures, and it was time tomove out. He thumbed the starter button, and when that monster lit, it madethe hair on my ass stand straight up like a bristle- brush! Damn! What abeautiful soundin’ sumbitch! You could feel the horsepower rumble up throughyour feet when he twisted the wick. My ol’ amigo “High Speed” Howard Lacydid the final tuning and setup, and believe me, he’s the best in thebusiness! Hell, his lawn mower runs in the low 9s!

While it warmed up, I looked it over like Bill Clinton interviewin’a new intern.Larry had already told me that he was responsible for the wild paint, withits narrow scallops, and bright accents. It began dark at the bottom of theC.M.C. frame, and faded as it moved up, for a shadow effect that playstricks on your eyes. The slippery lines of the fuel tank, made byIndependent, out of Vegas, make the graphics look like they may slide rightoff at any second. I think it’s only the eye-poppin’ stripes laid on by Dale”Sogy” Oftedal that keep ’em in place.

The wide rear fender is a Jesse James product, and it blends into the flow of thescoot without any supports to get in the way. It’s a real elegant way tokeep mud offa your T-shirt.

The 88 inch Evo engine has S&S cases, and Screamin’ Eagle heads, ported andmassaged by Leo at Direct Parts in Vegas. The trick heads breathe throughCustom Chrome shorty straights for an eardrum shatterin’ bark.An S&S “shorty” feeds the thirsty mill, and the horses are transferred by a3″ Primo open belt primary to a Rev Tech 5 speed tranny.The wheels are from Custom Chrome, and the tires from Avon, although therear looks like it could’ve come off a 747.

Watchin’ this man-eater rippin’ down the street, it occurred to me that whenyou’ve got the kind of “giddy-up” this thing has, you damn sure need a lotta”whoa” too, so the stoppin’ power is handled by Performance Machinecalipers, master cylinders, and rotors.

The classy front end is made by Sullivan, and the clean lines will have yatakin’ a second look, and maybe a third. This thing’s first class eye-candyfrom end to end!

Joker Machine made the forward controls, and they’re damn near too pretty toput yer nasty ol’ feet on, but Larry built this scoot to ride, and ride hedoes! Of course, the polishin’ of all those glistenin’ parts was handled byfriend, and fellow biker Bobby Z, of Final Finishes. Who else?Speakin’ of ridin’, that’s where comfort comes in. Larry hand made the seatto fit the lines of the bike as well as his ass, and the upholstery choreswere handled by none other than Leon Hatcher. There’s enough paddin’ to takethe sting outa this high-torque asshammer, but not enough to make ya forgetwhat kinda machine you’re ridin. And after all, this ain’t no F’in RoadKing, it’s a hot-rod for the serious adrenaline junky only!

By the way, if this scoot really talks to ya, Larry says it’s for sale. Hisnext project is already under way, and there’s no time like the present tostart on the future. If you’re seriously interested, drop Bandit a line, andhe’ll give ya my e-mail address, but first, I’ll answer a couple ofquestions I know you’ll have.

1: YES, IT GOES FAST!
2: NO, YA CAN’T RIDE IT TILL YA BUY IT.
3: NO, HE WON’T TAKE YOUR SPORTY IN TRADE.
4: YES, WOMEN WILL EVEN LOVE YOU IF YOU’RE RIDIN’ IT.

So take a few minutes, look over the pictures, think about what it’d be likeridin around on this beauty, then sneak the ol’ lady’s weddin’ ring down tothe pawn shop, an’ go for it!

	On a toasty Sunday afternoon, I was called from my tiny digs in the sizzling valley to the salt air breezes on the coast by a petite blonde with a hankerin’ for sun-settin’ delights before and after dinner. I couldn’t resist and with only a T-shirt and a vest on, I hit the road over Malibu Canyon to the Pacific Coast. As I passed traffic, the sun began to duck behind one jagged mountain crest after another and the shadows brought on a warning chill. I knew what lay ahead, the refreshing onshore breeze, the chilly evening mist, and the downright cold evening dew. That’s when I started thinking about the lean FXR I was riding at the time.
It didn’t want to mar the scalloped side panels with saddlebags, strap a tool bag to the motormount, wind bungee cords around my handlebars, or make a dresser out of the high-bar FXR. I thought about the Old West and the bedrolls the cowboys used to carry their shit, and it came to me. Something over the headlight, as long as it wasn’t too heavy, could do the trick. The bike would maintain its nasty profile, I could still pack someone on the back, and carry my shit. As I wound through the canyon, my mind went to work on the bedroll concept. Could it carry all I wanted to pack? I thought about the last time I took a weekend run. I had grabbed a promotional cordura bag, packed some clothes and a ditty bag in it and strapped it to my front end. That was it, a hollow, durable cordura bag with pockets on the ends for keys, maps, padlocks, chapstick, nuts and bolts, and rubbers, perhaps not in that order. Another question smacked me as I rounded another corner and caught a glimpse of the Pacific lapping the Malibu shores in the distance. What about a tool bag? I always like to carry tools, at least a set of Allens, a role of electrical tape and a crescent wrench. I almost forgot a set of spark plugs and a socket for ’em. Then it hit me-I could form a flap over the center of the bag and line it with elastic straps to hold tools. The flap itself would contain a pocket for small tools, tie wraps, wire, electrical tape, plugs, and my Allen set. Done deal. I almost turned around and went back to my humble abode to make notes, but the salt air was already filling my nostrils, and the notion of her naked form lying on a bed overlooking the splashing wave-lined beach was too much of a lure to turn back. -Bandit
This shot shows about how much a Dayroll will carry. The original Bandit’s Bedroll is approx. 2 feet longer for weekend getaways. I can easily pack for a weekend run and carry my ditty bag in the longer version.
	The bag was originally designed with an elaborate set of straps to hold it in place. We discovered after many miles on the road that the easiest way to securely fasten it to the bars was with a set of tie wraps. There’s also a center loop behind the bag to secure it down from blowing up in a gust, or working from side to side. If when you reach your destination, you want to remove the bags, simply cut the tie wraps off (if you cut ’em off behind the head, they can be reused), and replace them with new ones when you leave. Tie wraps also act as security.
The bag is designed to be taken off the bike whenever or worked with while in place. The easily accessible end pockets are great for padlocks, keys, bungee cords, smokes, a lighter, chapstick, anything you may need to get at quick.
	The center of the bag can hold a light jacket, sweatshirt, your girlfriend’s purse, a flashlight, etc. The dayroll was designed so you can throw in a sweatshirt and a light jacket to be prepared for those times when the cold snaps at your back. If the weather gets more severe in your area, the bungee cords are always in the side pockets. The bag makes a perfect platform to bungee a heavy jacket to avoid damage to your chrome and so jagged edges won’t cut your $500 jacket.
This is my favorite part and I learned more about it on the way to Sturgis last year. This heavy-duty flap rolls over the center of the bag. Unzipped, it becomes a totally accessible tool box at your fingertips. You don’t need to remove the bag and spill tools all over the hot asphalt or crawl around on your knees. Here’s a tip, though: I discovered last year that what a man really needs to take along on a long trip is a set of sockets and a ratchet with a couple of extensions. Combine that with a handful of common, open-end wrenches and you’ll have it made.

Bandit’s Dayroll is available for purchase in Bandit’s Gift Shop