Rebirth of an American Classic: Transmission Rebuild
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Rebirth of an American Classic: Case Repairs
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Rebirth of an American Classic: The Build Begins
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Sturgis Shovel Gets A Wrap
By Robin Technologies |
VHT FLAMEPROOF COATING
VHT FlameProof Coating will renew and extend the life of any surface exposed to extremely high temperatures. This unique coating is a matte finish, silicone ceramic base widely used by the automotive industry on exhaust systems and the aerospace industry for jet engines, re-entry vehicles and other high temperature applications. VHT FlameProof Coating will withstand temperatures up to 2000°F (1093°C) and is ideal for use on headers, exhaust systems, or wherever an extreme temperature coating is needed.
Applications: Headers, Exhaust Manifolds, Piston Domes, Inside Heads
VHT FLAMEPROOF COATING does require curing and VHT includes some specific instructions on how to do this.
Curing FlameProof
VHT FlameProof Coating only attains its unique properties after correct curing (refer to instructions on the can).
Paint must be completely dry before curing
Heat to 250°F (121°C) for 30 minutes
Cool for 30 minutes
Heat to 400°F (204°C) for 30 minutes
Cool for 30 minutes
Caution: Do not exceed the temperature of the least heat tolerant component or the base metal
Paint must be completely dry before curing
Run at idle for 10 minutes
Cool for 20 minutes
Run at idle for 20 minutes
Cool for 20 minutes
Once I finished painting and curing(?) the exhaust pipe, it was time to get wrapping. J&P Cycles has a large selection of exhaust wrap to choose from in their online catalog and after looking at all the different options I decided to order the Design Engineering Inc, Titanium Exhaust Wrap Part #308-159. I also had them throw in a package of DEI’s 8-inch Stainless Steel tie wraps to secure the ends.
•Promotes increased flow for improved performance
•Reduces temperature & vibration breakdown
•Extremely pliable for a tight and secure wrap
•DEI HT Silicone Coating not required
•Pre-wetting roll not necessary for wrapping
•Hi-tech carbon fiber look
As usual my order from J&P Cycles showed up almost as fast as I hit the enter key on the order form. Once the wrap arrived I looked over DEI’s directions and proceeded to start wrapping the pipe.
Atomic Bob Original Art for Sale at Atomic Bob Shop
By Bandit |
I got on the horn with Atomic Bob to ask him to donate some art for the upcoming Flying Piston Benefit online auction in Daytona on March 4, 2024.
Instead of answering the question, Bob growled about those thieving sonsabitches hacking his Instagram account and were digitally squatting on his property.
He can’t DM, he can’t post directly, and he can’t get it back through Instagram. And the thieves want 250 hostage money!
I said, “250K?”
No, $250 and I won’t pay it. If I find them, they won’t do it again! After he got that off his chest, we discussed his new store. He’s now offering his original masterpieces at the Atomic Bob Shop on Facebook. And here’s a kicker—he’s drawing inspiration from the vibrant 2000s era!
2000s? During this time, Atomic Bob lived his best life with zero worries. Picture this: motorcycles, cars, cash—anything he fancied, he had it.
With a grin, the Atomic One shared, “Those were the days!”
Apparently, he use to embrace a perpetual cloud of smoke because, hey, who cared? “I was in my 20s, living the dream. But then I thought I should be a responsible adult and stick to legal stuff—like being an alcoholic,” he chuckled…
Ah, the Atomic Bob wisdom!
Atomic has since put the whiskey down and picked up the pipe. Since Ohio is now a cannabis state, he likes to kick back, relax and paint high.
If you haven’t seen Atomic Bob’s artistic style, then you are in for a treat. He seamlessly blends pinstriping, custom paint and illustration with a distinctive touch. Renowned for his imaginative creations, Atomic Bob’s art frequently features themes revolving around monsters and eyeballs, adding a unique and captivating flair to his work.
Bob then took me through a couple of his works in his Atomic Bob Store.
The first piece of art originated in 2014, was completed in Atomic Bob’s grandma and grandpa’s basement. His girlfriend Kelly had kicked him out for the last time and got him locked up as well.
“I was feeling down as I paged through a magazine and saw this T-Bird,” explained Atomic. “I had this building down by the railroad tracks. I decided I was going to call it Atomic Dice Custom Paint. This T-Bird was going to be my new logo. I remember I was mad because I had to start my life over yet again, get sober and blah, blah, blah.”
The T-Bird was drawn in-between fights and arguments and all kinds of chaos, including yelling and smoking cigarettes late into the night.
“The lucky boy or girl out there who gets this can honestly light it on fire and dance naked in the dark,” said Bob.
Another interesting piece is an original autobiographical art piece of Atomic Bob’s ‘51 DeSoto. His lead sled was slammed with exhaust coming out of the rear quarter panel.
This framed piece fell on his head when the cops came to arrest him, while slamming him against the wall. He reframed it, of course, but you can still see little slices in the parchment where the cops stepped on the art.
“When you’re an alcoholic for so long as I was, there’s a lot of moments I missed. I actually stare at things in order for shit to start to come back to me,” explained Atomic.
And that’s where the story gets cool. So, when somebody buys this, it will be like, “Oh man, the artists got arrested, the damn thing fell on him, and it was stomped by a cop. What’s not to like?”
“So, I’m living in the 2000s with my music. Feeling the good vibes. Smoking pot and taking care of myself,” Bob said. “I am grateful for what I have. I’m not abusing my body.”
“The medical industry might be able to fix me, but I can tell you right now, I’m not going to make it worse because I ultimately have to make money with my hands and my arms and everything.”
BIG FRIG – https://bigfrig.com/
FLYING PISTON BENEFIT – https://flyingpistonbenefit.com/
ATOMIC BOB SHOP – https://www.facebook.com/groups/1324617964909190
The cousin for Harley-Davidson X440
By Wayfarer |
Even as X440 takes on the local behemoth Royal Enfield, the global two-wheeled giant Hero MotoCorp’s Mavrick 440 was unveiled in India at Hero World 2024.
Based on the Harley-Davidson X440, it features a power-roadster design philosophy and will be available for bookings in February 2024.
The Mavrick was co-developed in association with Harley-Davidson and is based on the X440. Available in five colour options, across variants, dealerships will accept bookings from February 2024 with deliveries beginning April 2024.
Harley-Davidson X440 and Mavrick 440 share the same engine and trellis frame. Yet it looks drastically different and may not appeal to those who loved the X440 design derived from Harley-Davidson XR1200.
Mavrick 440 will likely compete well against those left behind by the X440, including the big four Japanese brands. In all of this, the other retro-cruisers such as recently announced Honda CB350 and Jawa Forty-two and the Roadsters from Yezdi and TVS seem lost in the noise, with less brand appeal and even less after-sales expectations.
Find out the detailed specs, features and updates at
https://www.heromotocorp.com/en-in/motorcycles/Mavrick.html
With the launch of Mavrick 440, the buyers of Harley-Davidson X440 might also breathe a sigh of relief as the doubt for after-sales-service and parts might get resolved. Hopefully, H-D’s franchising strategy with Hero and Chinese QJ Motors (for China market) is a long-term strategy. I doubt if Harley-Davidson will again disappear overnight —since Hero has engaged so much resources, it is likely a tight, well-planned partnership.
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Annual Mecum Auction at Las Vegas 2024
By Wayfarer |
33rd Annual Vintage and Antique Motorcycle Auction by Mecum Auction at Las Vegas
January 24-27, 2024
ADDRESS
South Point Hotel & Casino
9777 Las Vegas Blvd S
Las Vegas, NV 89183
VIEW LOTS: https://www.mecum.com/auctions/las-vegas-motorcycles-2024/lots/
FOOD & BEVERAGE
The South Point Hotel & Casino offers a variety of favorites and local cuisine. Food and beverage stands are located throughout the facility.
Payment Options
Cash and credit or debit cards are accepted.
RV/CAMPINGRV/CAMPING
Camping on-site at the South Point Casino is not allowed. Campgrounds are available in the area and individuals are encouraged to check local listings for more information.
MOTORCYCLE SHIPPING
Whether you’re consigning your motorcycle or purchasing a new one, HaulBikes Motorcycle Transportation will deliver your bike safely to its new home! Contact HaulBikes at 888-HAULBIKES today. View rate information.
ROAD ART SHIPPING
Navis Pack & Ship
6185 S Valley View Blvd, Suite L
Las Vegas, NV 89118
lasvegas@gonavis.com or (702)494-9616
*All Road Art must be retrieved by 12:00 PM on Sunday, January 28. Any remaining items will be shipped via our preferred shipping company at the winning bidders expense.
ACCESSIBILITY
Scooter & Wheelchair Rental Information
Personal wheelchairs and mobility scooters are allowed. No on-site rental options are available.
Golf Carts
Personal golf carts are prohibited.
PETS
For the safety and comfort of both pets and people, the admittance of any and all animals is prohibited at every Mecum event, unless the pet is a service animal under the federal guidelines of the Americans with Disabilities Act or similar state or local laws.
LOST & FOUND
To report a lost item, please contact us at (262) 275-5050 or email info@mecum.com.
TV Schedule: Friday, Jan. 26 from noon to 5 p.m. (Live on MotorTrend+) and Saturday, Jan. 27 from noon to 5 p.m. (Live on MotorTrend+) (All times Pacific)
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Tell ’em Bikernet.com sent ya !
Colorado Motorcycle Expo 2024
By Wayfarer |
COLORADO MOTORCYCLE EXPO 2024
JANUARY 27, 2024 – 9:00am – 7:00pm
JANUARY 28, 2024 – 9:00am – 4:00pm
AT THE NATIONAL WESTERN COMPLEX IN DENVER
GET TICKETS https://www.coloradomotorcycleexpo.com/
Saturday Ticket = $25
Sunday Ticket = $20
Due to parking restrictions, we are unable to offer VIP tickets this year.
$2 discount for Military and 65+ (with proper ID at the door only)
Children 12 and under are free
A MOTORCYCLE EVENT YOU DON’T WANT TO MISS…
LARGEST INDOOR MOTORCYCLE SWAP MEET IN AMERICA!
The expansive venue, spanning 300,000 square feet, accommodates up to 800 vendor booths and swap meet tables. We welcome vendors of diverse varieties, ensuring you’ll find exactly what you’re looking for.
LARGEST MOTORCYCLE SHOW IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN REGION
Showcasing approximately 100 bikes vying for top honors in up to 20 categories, the Colorado Motorcycle Expo stands as the largest and premier motorcycle show in the Rocky Mountain region.
USED MOTORCYCLES FOR SALE IN THE CORRAL
Explore our selection of available used bikes for sale, or bring your own to sell. Join us for an incredible opportunity to present your bike to a vibrant audience of thousands!
LIVE MUSIC, ENTERTAINMENT, AND SO MUCH MORE
Experience the energy of live bands, captivating solo acts, engaging adult activities, a dedicated kid’s zone, and much more. There’s something for everyone!
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Tell ’em Bikernet.com sent ya !
Is Green the New Gray Area
By Bandit |
First and foremost, electric vehicles are expensive. Some studies suggest that people who can afford to buy all-electric cars represent a finite group, and that many of those consumers have already purchased an EV car or truck, meaning the available pool of buyers is shrinking. Also problematic is that due in large part to the high cost of battery replacement, there is a very small market for used electric vehicles. Basically, no one wants to buy them knowing that a big repair bill is headed their way. While battery technology will likely improve in coming years, as of today that technology and questions about the cost of building a sufficient charging infrastructure are major concerns for consumers.
Executive Director –
https://mrf.org/join
BOOBS
By Bandit |
Editor’s Note: We’ve stared at wonderful boobs with longing and allure all our lives. We’ve become aroused by the sight of tender nipples showing through a shear blouse. We could be in the worst imaginable conditions, on a sinking ship, in a blizzard or a war zone, and the sight and notion of touching the golden orbs transforms us. Suddenly we’re in a warm and tender place away from all the chaos life throws at us.
Sam Burns inspired me the other day, when he sent me a magnificent assemblage of beautiful women images. We couldn’t let them linger in a file without showing respect and love. Enjoy.
The Boob Transformation
Jimmy worked in a Junkyard. Scruffy and filthy, his boots covered in grease, he mounted his Sportster and rode home, where he cleaned up the best he could. Partially balding, with a slight beard and the same flannel and vest he wore for 20 years he mounted his scooter. With a pocket fulla ones he road to Ship Wreck Joey’s the only titty bar in the industrial port town.
With one beer he sipped all night he sat in front of a curtain-wrapped stage and waited patiently for Rosa, the Hispanic goddess to move with old R&B tunes around her polished brass pole. Jimmy was her biggest fan and not only for her magnificent round, soft as silk boobs, but she smiled with those big dark eyes at him like she was his long lost love and he had just returned from war.
From time to time on slow nights with limited action they would find themselves in a booth under dim pink lights. She leaned back against the faux leather interior and let him touched her softness. He could cuddle against her warmth, smell her Chanel perfume and know all was well in a world where milk and honey seemed so distant. Always enough to keep him going until the next time, he rode home with a smile on his face.
The Cure for Violence
Snake, rode a fast FXR. Every day of his life was on edge. He dealt drugs for a cartel he never saw, but if they didn’t like how he did something he paid a heavy price.
As paranoid as a black lab crossing a wide, unlit, asphalt highway, Snake went about his business running drugs to various bike clubs along the coast. Everything about his trapped existence smelled of treachery. No one trusted him and he trusted no one.
Daily he rode to the ghetto for his stash and to turn in the profits. Every day, his life was threatened by the cartel. Menaced while splitting lanes in bumper to bumper traffic, he watched closely for the Man and then his club guys customers. With narrow shades, a black leather vest, black long-sleeve shirt with pearl buttons, he packed constantly, rode fast and tried to keep his club connections to one man per MC.
Everything about his life was hard, fast and packed with deceitfulness, except for her. No one knew and he didn’t dare mention her to anyone, but when times were tough and he was forced to pull his stiletto, there was one room filled with solace, comfort, warmth and love.
Only with her could he nuzzle against her mounds of joy and forget his life completely. Her softness, those golden nipples, her warmth and her lips so precious each kiss took him to a world of peace, warmth and trust. Her baby blues locked with his dark eyes and he was transformed. They spoke little, he held her close and hope returned.
A Woman’s Understanding
Laurie moved around her apartment in a daze. Her life wasn’t packed with security or even a modicum of joy. She worked a minimum wage job and struggled with her faltering health. Her little VW bug coughed and sputtered on her way to work. She attended her evangelistic church twice a week, once on Sunday for the half day of barking sermons and Wednesday nights for bible classes. Even though she strained financially, she tithed and prayed constantly.
But once a week, she caught the rumble of a motorcycle entering her street. Loud and powerful the Shovelhead chopper sounded like a locomotive and her life suddenly changed. Here religion made her question her involvement with this biker as she listened for his engineer boots against the wooden steps. But she couldn’t deny the sensation, the tingle or her hardening nipples.
She freshened her make-up, tossed her hair and unbuttoned her blouse. Her boobs were large magnificent orbs of heavenly softness and as soon as he touched them her world changed for the better. Her large amber nipples called out to him erect and tingling.
The dichotomy was amazing as his rough exterior stood before her, long shaggy hair, full beard, rough black leathers and filth. His hands calloused from oil field work, his boots grimy, but his eyes were clear and warm. He looked at her angelic softness, her dreamy gaze, her rosy cheeks and kissed her deeply. It was as if he had no business being in her glowing heavenly presence, but as he removed her blouse and ran his hands alongside her magnificent softness and touched her nipples, she nearly climaxed.
For long moments they were both transformed from the struggles of life and the violence of the streets to the most natural Nirvana on the planet.
For days after he left, she could shower, close her eyes, run her hands down her mounds of joy, touch her stimulated nipples and remember that there really is heaven on earth.
The First Touch
A small baby boy was born on a mattress in the basement of a tenement house in East Prussia, Poland in September of 1939 as Germany invaded.
From September 1 to October 5 Germans shelled Pomerania. Polish soldiers were out gunned and held no chance of fending off the attack from the Nazi reign of terror. Natalia stood 5’6” tall and slim, she cleaned herself, grabbed her new baby and fled to the streets barefoot wearing a silk slip and a tarnished cotton dress.
Several local women helped her and insisted that she stay, but Natalia refused, made a satchel of torn garments and scarves to hang the baby around her neck in a sling nestling between her boobs. She made her way into the streets, not knowing where to go or where she would find their next meal.
Tanks rumbled over cobblestone lanes leveling homes and buildings at their whim. Rubble stacked as buildings crumbled and burst into flames. Screams and explosions filled the air, but the baby remained silent wrapped securely and tucked between her breasts. She moved quickly away from the action into alleys and side streets hoping to escape the melee.
At one point as the sun set, she untucked the child, kissed his forehead and looked into the smoke filled sky as the fleeting sun glimmered through the plumes of black soot. “I’m naming you Alek from Aleksander the defender of mankind,” she muttered, covered his face and pressed him to her ample breasts.
Less than three weeks passed and a 150-pound bomb collided with the building where Natalia attempted to sleep with her newborn. Leaving everything behind she scrambled out of the rubble surrounded by flying debris and clouds of concrete dust, her baby nestled carefully between her bouncing boobs. Covered in dirt, scratched and torn by the shrapnel she finally discovered a clearing in the rainy muck where she unleashed one of her massive boobs and allowed Alek to suckle his breakfast.
His meals, constant and unwavering came right on time, then he closed his delicate eyes to the turmoil and fell asleep in the torn satchel between the unchanging warmth of her boobs. Another month passed as she attempted to avoid capture by the Nazis.
Natalia finally found herself hidden by a family in their barn. For a few days she experienced meager comfort and regular food. A warm new-to-her sweater hung on her shoulders. Hand-me-down shoes secured her feet and she was afforded a place to bathe along with Alek.
He didn’t understand the wetness, the warmth or the smell of smoke, but for the first time his mother smelled different, delicate and even softer as he touched her bare skin. Two days later, in the barn, gun-fire exploded. Screams filled the air with angry barks from men. Suddenly he was torn from his mother’s grasp and flung onto a pile of hay.
He heard her scream, then plead, but then more gunfire, groans and quiet. He wondered, barely two months old what had happened. Wrapped, unable to see, for the first time the warmth, the touch of her soft flesh and the beating of her heart was gone.
His mind whirled with emotion but he dare not scream. He attempted to reach, and then he heard her sobbing as she picked him up, pushed the hay particles away and hugged him close. She uncovered his face and he could see her tears. Saved from potential rape, she placed the satchel strap over her head once more and cupped him in her secure cleavage.
He reached out and touched the soft flesh of her boob and felt the warmth. Her beating heart slowed and once again he was at peace.
Prison Blues
Prison officers pushed big, buffed Samson in shackles into his new home in cell block number 9 at Folsom Prison. It was all a mistake but he knew it was the unrelenting condition of his outlaw life.
Samson 6’4” and 240 pounds of solid muscle took Knock-Out, his babe for life to an upscale restaurant in Downtown San Francisco. The town switched from romance and seaside views to a mini-3rd World country overlooking the San Francisco Bay.
Why anyone voted for destruction of one of the most picturesque cities in the world was beyond the big guy as he led his petite girl behind the guiding matri’d to their table.
Knock-out also trained and looked as hot as a smoking pistol in a form fitting, black, silk gown that hugged every elegant curve as if spray painted with a pearlescent touch enhanced every delicious shape. Every guy in the joint noticed. Her soft as satin boobs spilled over the split neckline cut to the edge of her tender areolas.
Their perfect evening interrupted by homeless and drug addicts in the streets calmed in the soft, candle-enhance dining room as she slipped into the booth. Samson sat down across from her, when a tall slippery sort stepped up and opened his white sport coat to reveal a .45 Ivory-handled, semi-auto in a hand tooled waist band holster.
“Man, she looks fine enough to eat,” Ricky the 6-foot mafia sort, with slick black hair and polished pointed shoes said.
Samson began to get to his feet.
“Not a good move,” Ricky said and pressed on Samson’s massive shoulder with his right ringed hand and started to reach for the Colt in his waistband with his left.
“You failed your homework assignment,” Samson said, grabbed a polished silver fork and drove it into Ricky’s thigh.
Rick the scumbag from Chicago, who thought he could move to Frisco and take advantage of the open drug scene didn’t know the history he faced. Samson, an ex-1%er for over two decades held Knock-out’s hand in High School. They were meant for each other.
As they grew, trained, fought, built and moved forward in life, they became like a team for good and against evil. Samson stood abruptly. Rick stumbled back, grabbing for the semi-auto, he looked down at Knock-out’s succulent cleavage. Big mistake.
Samson blocked the weapon with his right hand, rolled his palm until the pistol turned into a Judo move breaking Ricky’s thumb. Samson dropped the weapon and hit Ricky in the neck with an open palm.
Usually, that was it. Ricky would fall to the floor and crawl back to his table, but he was dead before he hit the carpet.
Samson recognized his wide eyes and motioned for Knock-out to follow, but before they reached the bottom stairs for the exit, cops surrounded the building and Samson was ultimately convicted of 2nd degree murder.
Unshackled, and given a manilla envelope he sat on his cell bunk and opened it. It contained his sentencing materials signed by the judge. A few personal affects, like his watch, a pen, a pad of lined legal paper and an 8-by-10 shot of Knock-out. He smiled and set the photograph above his stainless steel mirror.
The black-and-white photo of her smiling face and those magnificent boobs were all he needed to survive five years in Folsom, fighting punks, drug addicts, slippery sons-a-bitches, anything and anyone. He’d survive and her nipples would wait for him on the outside. It didn’t matter what they threw at him, her image would remind him of the soft warmth in her arms.
The Bad Boob
As a teenager, mentally badgered in youth, Vickie acclimated to more tomboy characteristics and dodged the female code of softness. An angry countenance enveloped her being. Constantly on guard, she grew up tall and angular, but then recognized the power of her fine feminine side and her own unrelenting sexual desire. She couldn’t get enough.
She trained and worked waiting tables for enough cash to buy a set of bolt-ons. From that day forward her life changed. She used those torpedo boobs to her advantage, although the rest of her wasn’t much to shout about. She tried Botox lips, but then couldn’t kiss passionately.
She enjoyed sex, often but mostly for personal gain. She worked men into a boob frenzy then took from them and moved on.
She banged her way through several relationships, fucked her bosses then extorted from them, destroyed their families and got them fired.
She missed the mammary memo at a young age. As she matured her looks waned, her wanton slipped and her emotional well-being was left without the cherished love her boobs were capable of enhancing in her life.
Bada-bing!