Act Now… Congress Votes Thursday!

The House of Representatives has scheduled a vote Thursday on H.R. 1435, the “Preserving Choice in Vehicle Purchases Act.” H.R. 1435 would amend the Clean Air Act to prevent a ban on the sale of internal combustion engines, effectively trumping any state law that outlaws their sale. Now is the time to have your voice heard! Let Congress know you support the right to choose the type of engine you buy.

Click here to contact your Member of the House of Representatives and ask them to vote for H.R. 1435.

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Ride Free Forever

Stop by Lake of the Ozarks Harley-Davidson for Bikefest and find the Legend Suspensions tent!
We are excited to see you and talk suspension!

September 13th – 17th

For more information and location details please visit:

https://www.legendsuspensions.com/events/

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Tell ’em Bikernet.com Sent Ya !

The Best Party Anywhere

2024 Passes On-Sale

August 2 to 11, 2024

Want to cure your blues?
Start planning your trip to the Sturgis Buffalo Chip for 2024

Passes On Sale October 12

CLICK HERE TO RESERVE PASSES

For a limited time only, when you reserve an Early Bird Pass you get a place to party and crash for a very special price.

It’ll never be this low again.

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Tell ’em Bikernet.com Sent Ya !

A divorced rider, Marty, with a hot rod Dyna and a pocket fulla cash rode out of LA for the last time. Sad to the bone he stopped in Coachella Valley for a Date shake but drank six beers in a biker bar.

His Dyna barked and stumbled into a gas station for refueling. He paid cash at the counter and lifted the high-test nozzle. His heart crushed after his 15-year relationship crumbled, when the love of his life fucked her boss. He demanded blow-jobs daily from his new babe and the wicked relationship started to crumble, like bad chrome on aluminum primaries.

An attorney, he handled the divorce on his dime while fucking his client, his employee and his wife. Marty, stared at his Harley is disbelief. Unlike most of his brothers, his bike was silver and polished aluminum. His mag wheels shined bright without the dread black most riders drenched their bikes in nowadays.

Marty stood just 5’10”, but he didn’t mess around. He worked hard as a seaside truck driver lifting hundreds of pounds of fresh catch daily but stuck in traffic allowed his mind to wander into the danger zone.

He struggled against depression and mental anxiety, but riding helped. He kept going, leaving everything behind. He rode through Blythe out of California into Arizona, but not towards Phoenix. He headed south at Tucson but wouldn’t have another city. He caught two-lanes further south into Tombstone, where he slid to a stop in front of the only remaining historic bar across the street from the OK corral.

He wanted to drink himself into oblivion or ride. After a shot of Tequila, he mustered the courage to ride east, into Bisbee, Warren and Douglas. On the crest of a desert hill peppered with sand, creosote, tumbleweed and Yucca plants he could see the border town of Nogales in the valley below.

Something alluring struck him about the desert burg, but he had enough for one day and found a grungy motel where he could shower, crash for the night and ponder his fate with a bottle of tequila, a cheap salt shaker and two limes.

The next morning, his outlook trimmed with a chorizo burrito, a cup of coffee and a tall shot of tequila, he grappled with his fumbling fix on life. The sun glistened on the valley below him and cactus bent to the heat. The border town, surrounded by chain-link fence, concertina wire and guards of different varieties called to him.

He took another shot, took a shit and rode. Without anything to center his thinking, he lost mental ground, saw only the plights and obstacles to his future. He rode hard and fast to the border, uncaring if they shot him down as he approached. He didn’t give a shit if he lived out the day, ended up in prison or dead.

He pulled up to the Mexican guards in dirty Navy blue uniforms, who had no use for a biker, except to steal and sell his Harley after drenched in too much cheap tequila. They steered him to a bar of bad dreams and no hope, Bandit’s Cantina on the edge of town.

“Si Senor,” the burly, pot-bellied border guard muttered and pointed to the edge of town. “You can’t miss it.”

Marty dropped the clutch, and in a drunken haze, tried one more time to entice the law to shoot down the wild gringo. He was through the crossing and sliced through the dusty town as if he owned the roads and no one lived there. He didn’t care.

He pulled into the sandy lot in front of an old western dilapidated building. Only a handful of rusting hulks of vehicles, like old pickups, resided in the massive parking area. They stood like tombstones to failed relationships and he sensed he was next. In his current mental state, he didn’t give a damn.

He pulled on his leather vest over a torn flannel shirt and stepped up onto the faded, wood-slat porch. Outside the sun’s fiery brilliance roasted all the color from any abandoned vehicles. The dried wooden building bleached, and even his silver Dyna seemed to disappear in the dust as if it reached its seemingly last destination.

Marty yanked on his scruffy beard and entered the deep, dank and dark saloon as if someone turned out all the lights as he stumbled in. Even after removing his dark sunglasses, he couldn’t focus except on a swaying light above the bar, as if he tripped into an underground mine and only one flickering bulb hung from an overhead extension cord.

He found the bar and ordered a bottle of 100 percent agave reposado. He knew where he was heading and as his blistering pupils adjusted to the change in scenery, he found himself nearly alone in a sprawling saloon surrounded by a troop of thugs looking for their next prey. He knew trouble when he saw it, but then something touched his shoulder.

“Senor,” a voice as calm as an ocean tide cut through the mariachi music blaring from the blinking jute box. Instinctively he turned.

“Hablo Español?” she asked.

“Muy pequito,” Marty said and tried to focus on her soft features.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered and leaned close.

“Donde, where can I go,” He mixed his limited Spanish with his drunken English. On the verge of self-destruction, he began to focus on her dark concerned eyes, her fleeting smile and her gathered cotton top. Her face an angelic, Hispanic tan as soft as a baby’s ass and those warm eyes yanked him away from his doldrums.

“Go to Maria’s Tortilla flats, quickly,” she muttered. “I will meet you. I must go.”

She poured him a large glass of his reposado and laughed out loud as if taunting him to drink it, which he did and tried to find the door.

He grabbed the bottle and stuffed the limes in his vest pocket and stood swaying. As he focused on the door, two thugs moved to block his escape.

“Senor,” Enrique said, a nasty sort with a long mustach. “We get you anything you need here from something special to smoke, to young girls.”

“Who was she?” Marty said pointing in the direction of the waitress.

“She’s nobody,” Enrique said. “Let me find you a quiet table and some hot action.”

“I need to run an errand,” Marty said slipping his narrow shades back over his face and staring at the blistering sunlight creeping through a crack in the wooden door. “But I’ll be back.”

Enrique wasn’t convinced, but he opened the door for Marty and nodded to his partner. “He will be back. There’s no place in town like this one.”

All they needed was one lost customer a week and they made bank, after they stripped him of his cash, credit, belongings and vehicle. He’d most likely end up in a shallow grave just beyond town and no one cared. Another soulless gringo buried in the desert.

Marty shuffled into the overwhelming heat and sunlight. His lips were parched before he threw his leg over his Dyna. He didn’t know where Maria’s was or what to do next. Somewhere beyond the haze he was aware of what the girl with the soft eyes did for him.

He motored out of the parking area and kept toward the edge of town, where he lumbered onto a colorful palapa with a brilliant multi-colored sign, Maria’s Tortilla Flats. Something glowed about the atmosphere surrounding the flats, with its rich green shrubs and agave plants in colorful ceramic pots. Brightly adorned tables with red and white checkered table cloths made up the patio area.

Marty carefully stopped the dyna to prevent undue dust from marring the setting. He dismounted trying not to disturb what looked like local patrons mixed with a smattering of evil white tourists perched at various tables. A large jovial woman stepped out the main entrance and passed the outside covered patio. Bigger than life, her smile glistened surrounded by shimmering waves of full black locks. She wore a similar cotton gathered top as the other girl, and her abundant chest said it’s warm and comfortable here.

“You found me,” she said knowingly. “Felina called.” She motioned for Marty to follow with his bottle of tequila and a lime and a half. She took them from his hand and threw them in the trash. “You don’t need these. I have fresh ones.”

She led him inside to a small wooden table under a whirling fan in the corner of the ceramic tile floor. “Sentarse,” she said. “Relax, I’ll set you up.”

Marty scanned the room. His morning buzz interrupted by everything unfolding in front of him. He scratched under his earlobe and pulled at his mustache. His depression suspended as the room offered two rows of small round tables surrounded by four wooden and artistically adorned chairs laced with grass seating. The wooden tables faced an area for dancing and a verdant stage festively adorned.

Maria returned with a glass filled with ice, a shot glass, a small ceramic plate containing slices of lime and a small crystal-like mound of pure white salt. “Knock yourself out, Senor,” Maria said. “But try to stay sober enough to enjoy the show. Your blues will be forgotten.”

Marty looked at her wondering as three mariachis entered the bar and made for the stage with their bongos and steel guitars. As if fresh from a bullfight, each member of the band adorned himself with silver conchos, delicately embroidered pants and shirts, plus broad sweeping sombreros spilled from their heads in waves of silver and festive colors.

Marty couldn’t believe his cloudy eyes as couples poured into the merry room chatting and holding hands. The music group sprang into traditional Mexican festivities, stamping their ornate cowboy boots with silver spurs against the marred wood slat stage, when suddenly the corner of the crimson curtain flapped and a netted stocking-wrapped shapely leg appeared, her red flashy dancing shoe adorned with a brilliant silk flower twisted and teased the crowd.

Felina burst onto the dance floor nodding to the band, and then spinning, her dress revealing her legs and more. Her hands moved quickly out, around and then above her shapely torso while her fiery red cassinettes clapped and worked flawlessly with the Mariachi’s lively music.

It was the girl from Bandit’s Cantina as beautiful as a freshly blooming flower swaying in a warm breeze. Marty shoved the liquor bottle aside as they made eye contact and he felt a connection as if in a dream. It felt real, warm and wonderful.

She didn’t seem to let go of him as she danced with all her heart and spun along the shiny floor. As soon as the dance was over, she darted to his side. “Are you feeling bueno?” She asked him intent on his answer.

They introduced themselves and she glowed with every word Marty said. As the day wore on and the sun faded in the west, they cuddled and kissed. She fit against him like a hand sewn deer skin glove. She brought him tacos and salsa, sincerely concerned.

She danced with the mariachis and always returned to his side immediately. By the night fall she became his tranquility, his soulmate, and his salvation. She had but one more set and she could be his, seemingly forever.

The clock struck midnight and she sashayed onto the dance floor as if walking on air. Marty moved to a closer table at her behest, so each dance drew them tighter to their sealed relationship.

The three Mariachi performers played with enhanced gusto, knowing full well this was their last set, but excited to make an unwavering impression on the full house. A shotgun blast rocked the joyful atmosphere like a wet blanket over a fireworks display. The band stopped with a final out-of-tune twang.

“I thought you were coming back to the Cantina, gringo,” Enrique bumped Marty’s shoulder as he passed his table. Marty jumped to his feet.

Enrique, the thug with the wicked mustache and evil eyes walked to the center of the room and grabbed Felina’s arm. “You work only for Bandit’s Cantina whore and fuck anyone who doesn’t like it.” He fired another round from his double-barreled shot gun into the ceiling, scattering the silenced room with debris. Patrons darted for the door, hid behind their tables and women screamed. Enrique tossed the old sawed-off shotgun to the floor.

Marty watched as Enrique yanked and slashed at Felina’s delicate flesh. He witnessed his love being mauled, his future abused and his salvation crushed under the hands of a simple thug from across town. Enrique reached inside his vest hauling out a long-barreled, stainless, .357 magnum, revolver he spun toward Marty dragging the girl with him.

Likewise, Marty’s hand slipped into his vest gun pocked and yanked on a rusting, blued .38 snub-nosed Colt. Marty’s alert blue eyes locked with Enrique’s dark evil gaze. Enrique whirled, dragging Felina’s supple body in front of him for protection and lifted his polished weapon to fire in one deadly flowing motion.

Marty dropped to one knee, took aim and aimed at the slurry bastard, man-handling Felina. They fired simultaneously. Marty’s bullet pierced the man’s forehead and he died before he took another step.

Marty, realizing what he did, dropped the old pistol and started to run to Felina’s side, but Maria headed him off. “You must leave quickly,” she said, “More will come. I will protect her.”

In a hot flash Maria steered Marty toward a side door not far from his motorcycle. He straddled it and inserted his key quickly. The Dyna roared to life and he cut a dusty trail deeper into the heartland of Mexico. He rode hard through the night and into the sunrise along unlit highways south. His mind a blur of emotions, anger and guilt, he refueled in Hermosillo and just kept riding.

Low on cash, low on hope and dragging bottom at midday he rolled into Guaymas a desolate port town on the West Coast of mainland Mexico. He slid to a stop on the edge of the sand, struggled in his riding boots to walk across the soft beach to the waters edge. Kneeling in the sinking sand he removed his riding gloves and splashed the briny Gulf of California water in his face. It was as hot as the blistering air he breathed and he stood up abruptly. The notion of hell filled his destitute brain cells.

He looked up at the small town perched on the hillside around a craggy inlet. On reserve he rolled into town where he meandered along the single street until he saw a young prostitute on a second story deck above a crusty, dank discothèque waving her arms frantically. “Senor, Senor,” she hollered as he approached. Like a scene from the old west, a boardwalk of tilting wood planks lined the street and wooden poles were still in place for horses.

Marty parked his Dyna and the perky broad with her jet black hair pulled in a ponytail, wearing a western whore frilly dress ran to his side barefoot. “It’s you, it’s you,” she said with bright eyes. “Come inside, come inside,” she repeated herself.

“Can I have something to drink,” Marty said and found himself sitting in a similar setting to Maria’s in Nogales. He looked around confused.

“Cervesa?” The tiny young thing hurried behind the bar and returned with a Corona and a slice of lime.

Marty squeezed the lime, turned the bottle upside down to mix the juice and drank half of it.

“Maria called,” the young girl spoke anxiously. “You can’t go back there.”

“I must, but I need a job,” Marty said and buried his face in his arms. “I need Felina,” he muttered to himself.

The little Cecily’s boss offered Marty work as saloon security with a room in the back. Daily he chased down the skinny kid in the same western dress and bare feet. “Have you heard from Maria?”

“You must stay, very bad men looking for you,” Cecily responded with sad eyes and never mentioned Felina.

They stashed his motorcycle is a wooden shed behind the old building. Mariachis played every night to a half empty saloon. They didn’t move with the same passion or with the dynamic furfur as the brilliantly dressed Nogales crew.

Weeks passed and Marty’s angst grew. “I can’t take it,” he pleaded to Cecily. “I must find my Felina.”

Another Saturday night came and the bar filled with riders who spoke of Mariachis in Nogales and the lovely dancer with sad eyes. Marty’s tip jar overflowed, and he bought a bottle of their best Reposado. Half into the bottle and with a full tank of gas, Marty gave into his emotions. After closing time, against Cecily’s pleadings he hit the road north.

Afraid and distraught he rode like a madman into the night and slept under a Joshua cactus with the tarantulas. He drank tequila for breakfast and rode like the wind north. He had to see and touch his Felina for a moment, for an hour, for the rest of his life. She returned love, warmth and goodness to his being. She was his spirit, his recovery and his future.

As the sun set in the west, Marty refueled once more at a dried out truck stop in the desert. He cleaned up, dusted himself off, polished his boots and sprayed off his Dyna. It sparkled in the setting sun as he threw his leg over it, donned his cleaned dark glasses and fired it to life.

The Dyna was all he had to his name and another .38 the bar owner gave him in the right gun pocket of his 5-Ball vest. Felina was all he wanted in life and he didn’t care about anything else. He took a final shot of tequila and tossed the bottle into the tumbleweeds on the side of the road.

He rode into the night, his single headlight dancing along the unlit two-lane road. Passing a small mountain range, he entered another desolate vast valley containing a tiny grouping of sparkling lights like a clump of burning bushes. It had to be Nogales at the base of the Patagonia mountains. He pushed dangerously hard at almost 90 mph, when the flash of five motorcycle headlights lit-up to his left and the roar of bikes filled the air. A dozen or more sprang to life in the darkness on his right, half mile away and charged in his direction.

Mussel flashes pierced the darkness as he neared the town. Bullets whistled in the air. Marty reached for his weapon but felt something slice into his chest. Wavering, he pushed on, lead projectiles slamming into his Dyna as he lost control less than 1/8 mile from town.

The motorcycle lay in the sand off the road, thumping it’s final beats before it died and the headlight, like Marty’s last bastion of hope went out. Marty lay at the road’s edge surrounded by the lights of his attackers.

Maria’s pickup truck slid to a stop and Felina ran to his side. She lifted his bloody head and his eyes opened. Her beauty filled his heart with all he wished for and she kissed him. “Felina my love, good bye.”

This piece was inspired by a Marty Robbins song from 1959

About El Paso

“El Paso City” is a song written and recorded by American country music artist Marty Robbins. It was released in March 1976 as the first single and title track from the album El Paso City. The song was Robbins’ 15th number one on the U. S. country singles chart. The single stayed at number one for two weeks and spent 11 weeks on the chart.

Out in the west Texas town of El Paso I fell in love with a Mexican girl.
Nighttime would fine me in Rosa’s Cantina,
Music would play and Felina would whirl.

Black as the night were the eyes of Felina,
Wicked and evil while casting a spell.
My love was strong for this Mexican maiden,
I was in love, but in vain I could tell.

One night a wild young cowboy came in, wild as the west Texas wind…
Dashing and daring, a drink he was sharing,
With wicked Felina, the girl that I love.

So, in anger I challenged his right for the love of this maiden;
Down went his hand for the gun that he wore.
My challenge was answered, in less than a heartbeat
The handsome young stranger lay dead on the floor.

Just for a moment I stood there in silence,
Shocked by the foul evil deed I had done.
Many thoughts ran through my mind as I stood there;
I had but one chance and that was to run.

Out through the back door of rose’s I ran, out where the horses were tied
I picked a good one; he looked like he could run,
Up on his back and away I did ride.

Just as fast as I could from the west Texas town of El Paso,
Out through the badlands of New Mexico.
Back in El Paso my life would be worthless;
Everything’s gone in life nothing is left.

But it’s been so long since I’ve seen the young maiden,
My love is stronger that my fear of death.
I saddled up and away I did go, riding alone in the dark…
Maybe tomorrow a bullet may find me,
Tonight nothing’s worse than this pain in my heart.

And as last here I am on the hill overlooking El Paso,
I can see Rosa’s Cantina below.
My love is strong and it pushes me onward, down off the hill to Felina I go.

Off to my right I see five mounted cowboys,
Off to my left ride a dozen or more.
Shouting and shooting; I can’t let them catch me,
I’ve got to make it to rose’s back door.

Something is dreadfully wrong for I feel
A deep burning pain in my side.
Though I am trying to stay in the saddle,
I’m getting weary, unable to ride.
But my love for
Felina is strong and I writhe where I’ve fallen.
Though I am weary, I can’t stop to rest

I see the white puff of smoke from the rifle,
I feel the bullet go deep in my chest.
From out of nowhere, Felina has found me,
Kissing my cheek as she kneels by my side.
Cradled by two loving arms that I’ll die for,
One little kiss and Felina good-bye.

–Marty Robbins
1959

I REMEMBER
by Amy Irene White

I remember.
I remember 9/11.
I remember when the planes hit, and at first we thought it was an accident.
I remember the horror when the whole world realized it was happening on purpose.
I remember the planes falling and the pentagon smoldering.
I remember the bodies falling from windows.
I remember the firemen and policemen rushing forward.
I remember the smoke.
I remember the running.
I remember the screams.
I remember the panic.
I remember when the towers fell.
I remember when New York City looked like hell.
I remember Donald Trump walking amongst the wreckage.
I remember Rudy Gulianni too.
I remember the death tolls.
I remember the tears and the anger.
I remember when I got hooked on round the clock news.
I remember the patriotism and love and yellow ribbons.
I remember the hatred for Islam that I for one will never let go.
I remember it was something much more than some people doing something.
I remember the rides and memorials and remembrance.
I remember when the foundation of America was shaken, and I remember that we haven’t been quite right ever since.
I remember.

By Amy Irene White

Hey,

I ponder the theme for the news every week. Sometimes it’s a no-brainer, sometimes a celebration. This week I had a conversation with a brother regarding the state of our government and my move to the Black Hills of South Dakota. I’m very fortunate to be here and experiencing the freedom fresh from our escape from Califa.

If you have lived here all your life, it’s just home. Locals don’t realize what this place means to the motorcycling community, to freedom lovers and to custom builders.

One other item dawned on me. It sometimes takes me awhile, ya see, I’m just a grubby biker. I was wondering why the reds in this state weren’t anxious to share the truth with kids all over the world and eliminate the doom. I said, “Perhaps they were being bullied or paid off.” Imagine if your party passed two bills which afforded you damn close to two trillion bucks. Each bill was over 1000 pages of programs to fund anything and everything.

You don’t think they could use those trillions to almost buy-off anything or anyone? Maybe that’s why we face this uphill battle. Hang On! Let’s hit the news.

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

NEW FROM AMERICAN PRIME— Comp Master Clutchs for 2017- Present Milwaukee 8 Models

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THE CODE OF THE GUARDIAN BELL—Legend has it Evil Road Spirits have been latching on to motorcycles for as long as mechanical motorcycles have ruled the roads. These Evil spirits are responsible for mechanical problems and bad luck along the journey.

Legend goes onto say by attaching a small bell onto your bike, the Evil Road spirits will become trapped inside the bell where the constant ringing drives them insane, making them lose their grip until they fall to the pavement (ever wonder where potholes come from?).

Legend also has it that the mystery of the Guardian bell carries twice as much power when it’s purchased by a friend or loved one and given as a gift.

Show someone how much you care. Offer them defense against the evil /road /agents. Give a Guardian Bell and share the Legend of Good Luck it offers to any motorcycle and its rider.

–the Keeper of the Realm

“If you buy any books from our shop, I will send you a Bandit stainless guardian bell as a gift, so you’re covered.” –Bandit

BIKER FEATURE OF THE WEEK— Deuce’s Wild by Stevenson’s Cycle, since 1969.

Stevenson’s Cycle
4653 Wayne Rd.
Wayne, Michigan 48184
Phone: 734-641-2200

–Sam Burns
Feature Bike Editor
Bikernet.com™

THE PRISM GANG GARAGE ACTION– My Garage

This episode of My Garage brings us to Laguna Seca in Monterey, CA where we rendezvous with Patricia Fernandez-West. This is the first episode we’ve shot at a “temporary” garage and one that happens to get set up for long weekends at racetracks all over the country.

Patricia is a professional motorcycle racer who competes in both the Mission King of the Baggers and Super Hooligan classes. But, she didn’t end up there by accident – it took years of pouring everything she had into racing.

Sponsored by Saddlemen Seats.

BIKERNET GUN NUT REPORT–Biden Admin Oversteps Authority to Attack Law-Abiding Gun Owners, Again

NEWS
Biden Admin Oversteps Authority to Attack Law-Abiding Gun Owners, Again
Last Thursday, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (“ATF”) announced a new proposed rule on the “Definition of ‘Engaged in the Business’ as a Dealer in Firearms.” ­­–the definition that controls when individuals engage in sufficient commerce in firearms so as to need to be licensed under federal law as a Federal Firearms Licensee (“FFL”).

Under the proposed rule, Biden’s ATF would go well beyond statutory authority to fabricate presumptions of when an individual needs be an FFL, and the rule itself acknowledges its unlawfulness.

Arms Trade Treaty Sets Sights on Industry
After almost ten years of utter failure, the Arms Trade Treaty (ATT) has shifted its focus. Once touted as the United Nation’s (UN) crown jewel in preventing and eradicating the illicit trade and diversion of conventional arms, last week’s Ninth Conference of States Parties (CSP9) served as an almost singularly focused attack on the global firearms industry.

Canadians on Canada’s Gun Control Measures: Expensive, Ineffective, Political Posturing

More than three years have passed since Canada’s Prime Minister Justin Trudeau announced a ban and mandatory confiscation (“buyback”) of what he called “military grade assault weapons,” which was followed by a national handgun “freeze” and other gun control measures.

NRA Victory in Fight Over Ammo Ban
WASHINGTON EXAMINER

A federal court on Friday rejected a long-fought effort by environmental groups to force a ban on lead ammo in a national forest, providing a key win for hunters, the National Rifle Association, and the United States Forest Service.

NRA says Biden admin’s proposal for more firearms background checks is an attack on law-abiding gun owners

FOX NEWS
The National Rifle Association responded this week to the Biden administration’s proposed rule requiring more background checks to combat rising gun violence, saying it was just another step to attack “law-abiding gun owners.”

–NRA

LATEST FROM LOWBROW— EL, VL, FLH, XLCH, FXDG.. If you are playing Scrabble, you’re screwed.

However, if you are looking in your garage, you have fun modes of transportation dialed!

There is at least some rhyme and reason to the model designations assigned by Harley-Davidson over the years.

In this article, we dive in and try and distill it down so you can have a good general understanding that will help you identify bike models on the fly.

CHECK IT OUT

PS – if Triumphs pique your interest more than Harleys, check out our Guide to Triumph Engine & Frame Serial Numbers!

STRANGE BIKES OF THE WEEK—

–Sam Burns
Motorcycle Curator
Bikernet.com™

CLIMATE DOOM QUOTE OF THE WEEK—Sarewitz’s conclusion:

Indeed, with climate change being blamed for almost everything these days, the one phenomenon that seems to have escaped the notice of scientists, environmentalists and the media alike is that, perhaps above all, climate change is making us stupid.

Even so, I do have good news to report based on my interactions with people out in the real world who need to make decisions with consequences — many understand that narrative cannot rule — evidence, data and science must continue to matter, lest we make poor decisions. Scientific journals, university press officers and campaigning journalists who seek to enforce a simplistic narrative make it that much harder for science to find its way into the real world, which harms everyone.

Identifying a problem is the first step. It is time to break the narrative rules.

–Roger Pielke Jr.
The Honest Broker

5-BALL TEAM MEMBER ON CANNONBALL–
The Salt Torpedo pilot, Micah McCloskey finds a getaway on the Cannonball. He passed his inspection and is ready to rock.

“We made it to Virginia Beach!! CANNONBALL BABY!!” ~ Micah McCloskey

–from Wayfarer
Associate Editor
Bikernet.com™

BIKERNET READER COMMENT—The Last Crocker Ever Built

Click here to read the Crocker article.

Being a lifetime motorcyclist and resident of New York state (1954-2018), I attended the AMCA Empire chapter meet annually as it was a twenty minute ride to Brookfield’s Madison county fairgrounds.

Forty-some years ago I recall a Crocker there. I would have taken a much closer look had I known it’s rarity. Plus, there always seemed to be a large group around it.

–Robert Pickersgill

“They always drew attention.” –Bandit

BIKERNET TEMPLE Wisdom Quotes–

“The highest reward for a person’s toil is not what they get for it, but what they become by it.” ~ John Ruskin

“It is infinitely better to have a few good men, than many indifferent ones.” ~ George Washington

“Believe in yourself when nobody else does.” ~ Mary J. Blige

“Straight roads do not make skillful drivers.” ~ Paulo Coelho

“Never fear shadows. They simply mean there’s a light shining nearby.” ~ Ruth E. Renkel

“There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.” ~ Ernest Hemingway

“The secret of your success is determined by your daily agenda.” ~ John C Maxwell

“Experience is not what happens to a man. It is, what a man does with what happens to him.” ~ Aldous Huxley

“The best mirror is an old friend.” ~ George Herbert

“If you know how quickly people forget the dead, you will stop living to impress people.” ~ Christopher Walken

“A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.”
~ Jean de La Fontaine

—Wayfarer

MOVIE OF THE WEEK—George Foreman Movie.

“Inspirational boxing movie about the history of George Foreman, don’t miss it.” –Bandit

Refer: https://www.taijutsu.art/2023/02/life-of-george-foreman.html

YouTube Boxing Channel called “Rainy Day Boxing” has cool bios on many top boxing legends of the past. It is said that George was always a teddy bear but where he trained was also where people like Sonny Liston trained. Aspiring boxers wanted to be a mean bad@$$ like Sonny who spent his youth in and out of prison before becoming a boxing champion.

So, George developed a public personality of mean and angry person because — who would pay to watch a “huge” (pun) “nice” guy fight the World Champion as a challenger?

George was very hurt by Muhammed Ali’s insults which shows how sensitive and caring he actually was. Like Sonny, (his idol) George kept quiet and just gave death stares at opponents (or tried to).

“An Olympic Gold medalist and former World Heavyweight Champion, when he sees his community struggling spiritually and financially, Foreman returns to the ring at age of 45 years and makes history by reclaiming his title, becoming the oldest and most improbable World Heavyweight Boxing Champion ever.”

“Sure the fight was fixed. I fixed it with a right hand.” ~ George Foreman

Check out the video:

https://youtu.be/8zfpIkEylSg?feature=shared

–Wayfarer
Movie Reviewer
Bikernet.com™

NEWS FROM THE OTHER 5-BALL EMPIRE—

In Venice, California where the master tattoos and the new home of 5-Ball Leathers resides.

Check him out, if you dare go to Los Angeles.

–Bandit

CHOPPER HOBO COMES TO BIKERNET—

You got no idea how good it makes me feel to see you are still building bikes, a Knucklehead and your friend’s ’60 Pan. That is incredible. You are keeping your tradition and legacy going forever and you give me hope for the dismal future.

I also feel kinda funny even asking you to accept a book, cuz your chopper life has to be THE most exciting chopper life anyone ever had.

You were at the beginning of the Southern California chopper hey-day and you had your MC life. And if that wasn’t enough, then you were the editor of the best magazine that has ever been printed since they printed on paper. If Chopperdom was a religion, Los Angeles would be The Vatican, and you would be the Pope.

My books might seem kinda goofy and cornball to you, cuz I was born a few years too late and 1,500 miles too far away in Dallas. The Wild Angels and Easy Rider movies and Then Came Bronson shaped my beginning, then Easyriders magazine honed it.

I turned 18 in 1973 and when I got outta school the first thing I did was ride my ol’ used ‘67 Sportster up into the Canadian Rockies. And the cross country road trip bug bit me. I knew I was hooked for life on two wheels.

But a few days later, by the time I rode the Sportster back to Dallas I already knew the Sportster was kinda too little for me, cuz you and me are about the same height and we need some room to stretch out, right?

So, on July 11 1974 I got the Super Glide which I still ride and build on today. It was a fukkin turd built right in the middle of the AMF Strike. I was hanging around Shelby Withrow’s bike shop Mid Cities Choppers. And that’s where I met all the Dallas guys who were also building and riding choppers in the 1960s. I was the snot nosed punk kid and they took me in.

Shelby’s main riding partners were Blue Jay Murphy, Stan Suttles and Harold Rhinehart. Through Blue Jay I got to meet Billy Tinney and Mister Tramp and Tiny and Animal and Jock-O from the Scorpions, and that was about the time your magazine was going around the nation holding those wonderful old swap meets with the MCs in different cities.

The Shovel I still ride today is made up of parts from those old swap meets and the old ABATE swaps, too.

So, I guess what I am trying to say is the books are sort of a diary of the same bike I been riding 49 years now. I’ve had it down to bare frame 7 times, and twice cut the front half of the frame off for more stretch. The back half is still the old 1971 D&D Jammer frame with the mechanical brake.

The 74 Shovel Chop is the main character in the 4 books, I’m just its caretaker and the monkey riding on top of it, hahah.

The highlight of the 74 Shovel’s life was getting into your magazine. So, I’m hoping the book doesn’t bore you to sleep.

Take care and keep on buildin’,

–Dave

“Thanks Dave. I can’t stop building bikes, riding or writing.” –Bandit

[page break]

CONSENSUS?–What Consensus?

You have likely heard that 97% of scientists agree on human-driven climate change. You may also have heard that those who don’t buy into the climate-apocalypse mantra are science deniers.

The truth is that a whole lot more than 3% of scientists are skeptical of the party line on climate. A whole lot more.

The many scientists, engineers and energy experts that comprise the CO2 Coalition are often asked something along the lines of: “So you believe in climate change, then?” Our answer? “Yes, of course we do: it has been happening for millions of years.” It is important to ask the right questions.

Read the entire CO2 Coalition commentary at.

Notable Quotables on “Consensus”

“I would rather have questions that can’t be answered than answers that can’t be questioned.” ~ Richard Feynman

“Whenever you hear the consensus of scientists agrees on something or other, reach for your wallet, because you’re being had…” ~ Michael Crichton

“There is no such thing as consensus science. If it’s consensus, it isn’t science. If it’s science, it isn’t consensus. Period.” ~ George Will

“When a politician says the debate is over, you can be sure of two things: the debate is raging, and he’s losing it.” ~ Bertrand Russell

“The fact that an opinion has been widely held is no evidence whatever that it is not utterly absurd; indeed, in view of the silliness of the majority of mankind, a widespread belief is more likely to be foolish than sensible.” ~ Bertrand Russell

Like the information you see here? Leave a Comment or email Bandit.

ANOTHER BIKERNET READER COMMENT—

Always Hope Bikernet Weekly News for August 31st, 2023 – read it by clicking here.

The cartoon about collectors and their inheritors reminded me of what I faced after my parents died. They had a four bedroom house with six bedrooms of stuff in them. It took forever to go through everything since there were family heirlooms mixed in with the crap.

One of my parent’s neighbors almost had a heart attack once before I had this finished and everything cleared out. My goal is to avoid this with my children, though I doubt I will take up my uncle’s suggestion when I told him about what I was dealing with. My uncle thought that the best way to not have this happen was to move every 5 years or one good fire.

–Jim Weed

“Yep, I’ve moved more times than I can count. It helped. I try to pass on antique shops, just keep going.” –Bandit

TEXAS BANS LANE SPLITTING—

In an effort to kill bikers on blistering hot days and enhance traffic obstacles, the Texas legislature passed a ban against lane splitting.

–Bandit

U.S. SENATE Introduces SEMA-Supported Motorsports Fairness and Permanency Act

The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency-proposed (EPA) released its final National Enforcement and Compliance Initiative (NECI) for 2024 through 2027, outlining the agency’s top enforcement priorities for the coming years. The EPA did not include “Stopping Aftermarket Defeat Device for Vehicles and Engines” on the NECI list. The agency returned enforcement of aftermarket parts to a standard “core” priority as it had been for many years until 2020.

“The EPA’s decision to remove enforcement against aftermarket products from the NECI and return it to a standard priority is a recognition of our industry’s commitment to emissions compliance and the progress we’ve made,” said SEMA President and CEO Mike Spagnola.

–SEMA

BONNEVILLE MOTORCYCLE SPEED TRIALS UPDATE—

Many of you know me from emails, phone calls, or at previous events Event Director/Owner of Bonneville Motorcycle Speed Trials (BMST). After our cancellation last year, I was very excited for 2023, to be with my salt family to catch up, and to see you break some World and National records. Again, it wasn’t our year.

As an all-volunteer organization (myself included) cancellations are difficult. It’s difficult for the volunteers, you as racers, sponsors, and all others that are part of our salt family. Especially two years in a row.

We have offered a number of ways to support BMST and continued improvements. All of your registration goes towards running the event. Through our Very Important Racer (VIR) program, and rollovers, we have been able to continue investments into BMST. This includes replacing and updating equipment, purchasing new course mile markers and signage, as well as other items. All of this is to ensure I am doing all I can to provide a safe and efficient experience for all participants.

Additionally, donations assist in covering some non-refundable expenses to allow continued operations. We will be offering these options again for the 2023 cancellation.

Ready to Race in 2024! Registration Options:

Donate Your Registration and become a Very Important Racer!

To maximize the impact you can make, we are asking for you to donate and become a sponsor. If you donate all of your 2023 registration and join the Very Important Racers of BMST, you will get all the benefits of a Very Important Racer and a BMST 2023 merchandise pack.

What’s a Very Important Racer (VIR)? It’s you! By donating, you become a 2024 VIR and will have the opportunity to enter and setup your pits Friday before event starts, get your name on the 2024 event shirt, 2024 @ VIR Discount prices, AND get a BMST 2023 merchandise gift pack delivered to you thanking you for your sponsorship!

(50/50) Become a VIR and Rollover 50% of your registration to 2024

The best of both worlds! Support the event, become a VIR with Friday pit setup before the event starts, 2024 @ VIR Discount price, a BMST 2023 Merch pack, and rollover a portion of your registration to apply towards 2024.

Rollover your registration to 2023!
Want to save time and pre-pay for 2024? Rollover your registration! With this option, you can rollover all of your registration as a credit for 2024.

A note for 2022 Rollovers: All rollovers from 2022 will be rolled again to 2024 unless you choose to become a VIR ( donate or donate 50%/Rollover 50%) and receive the VIR benefits in 2024. All rollovers will not incur any additional cost (if registration fees increase). Your rollover will apply to the same entry and gate pass type & quantity as 2023.

Refund
We understand that some of these options may not work for you. Refunds are only available to participants that paid in 2023 and subject to BMST terms and conditions.

Comparison of Options and Rewards: * TShirt size is based on original entry form information. Unfortunately sizes can not be changed as they were already in print at the time of cancellation.

 ** All rewards and processes are subject to BMST terms and conditions.

Next Steps.
In order to process your request please complete the BMST 2023 Registration Options form no later than September 30th 2023.

Any registration options not requested through this form by September 30th 2023 default to the rollover options per our standard terms and conditions.
Click the button at the end of this email to complete your request.

Other ways to support BMST
The Request Form also includes an opportunity to support BMST by ordering merchandise. There are several items listed available for order. Get a 2023 Pin or patch, as well as 2023 T Shirts (Men’s, long sleeve, and women’s cut).

We appreciate your continued support of BMST! We’ll get your rewards out to you as soon as possible!

DIRECT FROM THE FEULING FILES—

We rode from Southern California to Sturgis on the new 121 VVT Street Glide CVO. Throwing down a couple thousand miles on the road truly put this bike to the test, we also took our 2021 Road Glide equipped with the 472 Race Series Camchest kit, BA Air Cleaner and AR exhaust to compare the performance of the new stock VVT engine.

With all the mystery surrounding the potential of the new 121 engine, we wanted to share our thoughts after the long haul across the country on the latest and greatest from Harley-Davidson’s coveted Custom Vehicle Operations line.

Check it out at Feuling.com

BABES FEATURE OF THE WEEK—

Biker and motorcycle goggles also in prescription

MADE IN GERMANY

helbrecht.com

–Sam Burns

THIS JUST IN FROM REVIVAL CYCLES—

Rambler X Revival BMW Giveaway.

For this year’s Handbuilt Show, we partnered with Rambler Sparking Water to give away this 1990 BMW Paris Dakar!

There’s still time to enter! Winner to be announced at the next Handbuilt Show. No purchase necessary.

ENTER NOW

 THE ROAD TO THE MEETING OF THE MINDS IS STILL CALLING YOU–

Your individual responses to the Eblast you received from the MRF around August 4 were encouraging. So, encouraging in fact, that I was requested to pull together one more appeal for biker rights advocates in the Northeast to join your brothers and sisters and “get your motors runnin’!” and head down to Harrisburg and the Meeting of the Minds in September.

With someone from clean across country making such a production out of attending an event in Pennsylvania, you’re probably wondering what the fuss is all about. First, it’s about the MRF listening, making a difference, and moving forward to protect the future of motorcycling, and motorcyclists’ rights — this year’s Meeting of the Minds features sixteen workshops and ten new presenters, plus a stack of new topics added to the mix!

The Motorcycle Riders Foundation–presenters who live and breathe motorcyclists’ rights, topical workshops that have real-world applications for protecting the future of motorcycling – Bikers Inside the Beltway, the Meeting of the Minds–there’s no other place in the world that you can get this much information in such a short span of time; even if you spent an evening ‘surfin’ the net!’

If you haven’t already, get ready to meet Bob Stoner, a 27-year member of ABATE of Indiana. He’ll join Aaron Meyer to present 90 minutes that will help keep your SMRO on track — SMRO Guidebook: A Cookbook for Your Organization.

Whether you’re contemplating running for political office or supporting a motorcycle-friendly candidate, “think globally, act locally” puts the mission of protecting the future of motorcycling directly into the avenue of approach to motorcyclists’ rights advocacy. Traci Beaurivage and Imre Szauter present Beyond Legislative Lobbying and share their collective political experience with attendees in their workshop.

The Motorcycle Riders Foundation — Bikers Inside the Beltway, Meeting of the Minds –listening, making a difference, and moving forward to protect the future of motorcycling & motorcyclists’ rights!

I’m not the guy to tell you that the MRF has all the answers. However, I will tell you that Since 1987 the MRF has been the only national motorcyclists’ rights organization dedicated to on-street riders with full-time representation in Washington, D.C.! The MRF may not have all the answers, however you can take it to the bank that the information shared at the Meeting of the Minds will be useful to you and your SMRO!

One more time: Why attend the Meeting of the Minds? With the increasing attacks against motorcycling and motorcyclists’ rights – profiling, end of life directives for motorcycles, over-regulating the availability of fuel – the Meeting of the Minds offers sixteen workshops tailored to the motorcyclists’ rights activists. These workshops are presented by some of the nations’ most respected and knowledgeable freedom fighters. Plus, the information will serve you well before your legislators, state regulatory agencies, and members of Congress.

The successes of the Motorcycle Rides Foundation are hard won. They are won because freedom-loving riders like you help make the victories easier. Thanks for using the links below to register for the Meeting of the Minds and make your hotel reservations. See you in Harrisburg in September and enjoy the ride!

The Meeting of the Minds – September 21-24. The Red Lion Hotel, 4751 Lindle Road, Harrisburg, PA 17111; at $109 nightly, there are rooms available, but they’re going fast. Use the QR codes below to register and make reservations or call 717-939-7841 and mention Motorcycle Riders Foundation 2023 Meeting of the Minds.

–Fred Harrell

BIKERNET SONG PICK OF THE WEEK—

Get in the mood for Bandits outlaw fiction and Wild West theme with Marty Robbins. Marty’s compilation “Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs” has many gems. Listen in and ride along.

Song: “Big Iron”
Artist: Marty Robbins
Album: Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs (1959)

To the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day
Hardly spoke to folks around him, didn’t have too much to say
No one dared to ask his business, no one dared to make a slip
For the stranger there among them had a big iron on his hip
Big iron on his hip

It was early in the morning when he rode into the town
He came riding from the south side slowly lookin’ all around
He’s an outlaw loose and running, came the whisper from each lip
And he’s here to do some business with the big iron on his hip
Big iron on his hip

In this town there lived an outlaw by the name of Texas Red
Many men had tried to take him and that many men were dead
He was vicious and a killer though a youth of 24
And the notches on his pistol numbered one and 19 more
One and 19 more

Now the stranger started talking, made it plain to folks around
Was an Arizona ranger, wouldn’t be too long in town
He came here to take an outlaw back alive or maybe dead
And he said it didn’t matter he was after Texas Red
After Texas Red

Wasn’t long before the story was relayed to Texas Red
But the outlaw didn’t worry men that tried before were dead
20 men had tried to take him, 20 men had made a slip
21 would be the ranger with the big iron on his hip
Big iron on his hip

The morning passed so quickly, it was time for them to meet
It was 20 past 11 when they walked out in the street
Folks were watching from the windows, everybody held their breath
They knew this handsome ranger was about to meet his death
About to meet his death

There was 40 feet between them when they stopped to make their play
And the swiftness of the ranger is still talked about today
Texas Red had not cleared leather ‘fore a bullet fairly ripped
And the ranger’s aim was deadly with the big iron on his hip
Big iron on his hip

It was over in a moment and the folks had gathered round
There before them lay the body of the outlaw on the ground
Oh, he might have went on living but he made one fatal slip
When he tried to match the ranger with the big iron on his hip
Big iron on his hip
Big iron, big iron
When he tried to match the ranger with the big iron on his hip
Big iron on his hip

—Wayfarer

LIFESTYLE CYCLES DEAL OF THE WEEK—

2017 Harley-Davidson FLHXS – Street Glide Special

Stock# 13994N

$18,995

2017 Harley Davidson FLHXS Street Glide Special 107 CI with only 38,397 miles!

Lifestyle Cycles has a real screamer here in our inventory today! This 2017 FLHXS Street Glide Special is just dying to get back on the road and when you hear how it rides you’ll never want to get off!

* Detailed Blue Paintjob with Graphics
* Black Engine Guard with Highway Pegs
* Rider Floorboards
* Dual Brake Discs
* Passenger Pegs
* Two Seater
* 4 Point Docking Hardware
* Aftermarket 2 in 1 Exhaust
* Screamin Eagle Stage 1 Air Cleaner
* Dual Shift Levers
* 107 Cubic Inch Engine
* LED Headlight
* 14-Inch Black Meathook Handlebars
* 9-Inch Dark Smoke Windshield

This bike is only $18,995.00

Plus license, $85.00 documentation fee, and local sales tax. NO HIDDEN FEES like some dealers. And we have no reconditioning or prep fees. This bike has passed Lifestyle Cycles rigorous 92-point safety/mechanical/structural inspection.This motorcycle has not been refurbished and does not come with any warranty expressed or implied! EXTENDED WARRANTIES are available!

Fill out an online application today. We have EZ FINANCING

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

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

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

[page break]

FROM PROFESSOR EL WAGGS—

Today’s words of wisdom & Curious Query’s

01. If a bottle of poison reaches its expiration date, is it more poisonous or is it no longer poisonous?

02. Which letter is silent in the word “Scent,” the S or the C?

03. Do twins ever realize that one of them was unplanned?

04. Every time you clean something, you just make something else dirty.

05. The word “swims” upside-down is still “swims”.

06. Over 100 years ago, everyone owned a horse and only the rich had cars. Today everyone has cars and only the rich own horses.

07. If people evolved from monkeys, why are monkeys still around?

08. Why is there a ‘D’ in fridge, but not in refrigerator?

09. As I’ve grown older, I’ve learned that pleasing everyone is impossible, but pissing everyone off is a piece of cake!

10. I’m responsible for what I say, not for what you understand.

11. Common sense is like deodorant. The people who need it the most never use it.

12. My tolerance for idiots is extremely low these days. I used to have some immunity built up, but obviously, there’s a new strain out there.

14. It’s not my age that bothers me – it’s the side effects.

15. I’m not saying I’m old and worn out, but I make sure I’m nowhere near the curb on trash day.

16. As I watch this generation try and rewrite our history, I’m sure of one thing: it will be misspelled and have no punctuation.

17. As I’ve gotten older, people think I’ve become lazy. The truth is I’m just being more energy-efficient.

18. I haven’t gotten anything done today. I’ve been in the Produce Department trying to open this stupid plastic bag.

19. If you find yourself feeling useless, remember: it took 20 years, trillions of dollars, thousands of lives and four presidents to replace the Taliban with the Taliban.

20. Turns out that being a “senior” is mostly just googling how to do stuff.

21. I want to be 18 again and ruin my life differently. I have new ideas

22. I’m on two simultaneous diets. I wasn’t getting enough food on one.

23. I put my scale in the bathroom corner and that’s where the little liar will stay until it apologizes.

24. My mind is like an internet browser. At least 18 open tabs, 3 of them are frozen, and I have no clue where the music is coming from.

25. Hard to believe I once had a phone attached to a wall, and when it rang, I picked it up without knowing who was calling.

26. My wife says I keep pushing her buttons. If that were true, I would have found mute by now.

27. There is no such thing as a grouchy old person. The truth is that once you get old, you stop being polite and start being honest.

–Jim Waggaman

VINTAGE EVENT OF THE WEEK–6th Annual Ohio Vintage Nationals

Event by Drew’s Vintage Cycle, Adam Snider: Allstate Insurance, and others at Freebird Dragway

–Sam Burn
Ohio Event Coordinator
Bikernet.com™

NEW BIKERNET READER COMMENT–

Taking Stock Out Of A Softail Rear Fender— click here to read article.

Would this procedure work on ’99 fatboy?

Great build by the way. I’m in the process of doing this on my ’99 fatboy but also have the task of converting the rear rim so a fat spike for a 2000 trim cam.

Any tips on this? Been told it’s possible and I hope it is as I’ve already invested in the rims and they ain’t cheap!

–Samuel Cooper
Grand ledge, MI

“This program will work on any older Softail frame. You should buy Tim’s book. The size of the tire is going to impact everything, the fender, whether you run a belt or a chain, driveline alignment and wheel spacing.

Check to see if Wolfgang is still selling books. You need one.”

–BANDIT

XDA Racers Power to Record Performances at VMP–

The XDA’s 37th Annual MTC Engineering Summer Nationals delivered record performances and a flawless event to Virginia Motorsports Park again.

The biggest and best show in motorcycle drag racing gave the east coast an action-packed event under cooler-than-normal skies that allowed the performance numbers to outshine the glassy surface of the VMP 1320.

The rider talent and tuning in Orient Express Racing Pro Street reached a new level turning out the quickest field in history! With twenty-two entries, Jason Dunigan earned the number one qualifying spot with a 6.430 at 230.80 mph, while Jordan Angelo held the sixteenth position with a 6.815 at 211.06 mph, the quickest bump spot in history. With an all-six-second field, the competition on Sunday was set to be phenomenal, with a forecast in the mid ‘70s. It was!

RIDE TEXAS WEEKEND EVENTS-–

How about 190 mph superbikes and some family fun?

MotoAmerica Superbikes are at COTA Sept 8-10,

Enjoy qualifying on Friday and all-day racing on Saturday & and Sunday!

Five classes of road racing:

• Medallia Superbikes,
• Supersport,
• Steel Commander Stock 1000,
• Mission King of the Baggers
• Mission Foods Super Hooligan National Championship.

Meet over 120 riders in our open race paddock! VIP and Camping packages available. Kids under 12 are free with paying adults.

Bring the family to our Kids Zone, free carnival games, stunt show, and so much more.

QUICK, OPEN THE BANDIT’S CANTINA BAD JOKE LIBRARY—father buys a lie detector robot. It slaps folks when they lie…

He decides to test it out at dinner one night.

The father asks his son what he did that afternoon.

The son says, “I did some schoolwork.” The robot slaps the son.

The son says, “OK, OK. I was at a friend’s house watching movies.”

Dad asks, “What movie did you watch?”

Son says, “Toy Story.”

The robot slaps the son.

Son says, “OK, OK, we were watching porn.”

Dad says, “What? At your age I didn’t even know what porn was.”

The robot slaps the father.

Mom laughs and says, “Well, he certainly is your son.” The robot slaps the mother.

Robot for sale!

–from El Waggs
Certified Librarian
Bandit’s Cantina™

QUICK, FROM THE BIKERNET “WHAT’S IT MEAN DEPARTMENT?”—

Australia’s transition to a cashless society raises concerns about financial exclusion, privacy and safety.

Aside from those that involve the tooth fairy, cash transactions are at an all-time low.

According to the Reserve Bank of Australia (RBA), cash accounted for just 13 per cent of all payments made in 2022.

The ability to pay by tapping our phones is partly driving the downward trend.

“Even credit cards, or debit cards, are starting to feel a bit antiquated,” Chris Berg, director of the RMIT Blockchain Innovation Hub, tells ABC RN’s Download This Show.

Full story at
https://www.abc.net.au/news/2023-08-23/cashless-society-financial-exclusion-safety-privacy-concerns/102706718

–Wayfarer
Finance Editor
Bikernet Blog & Facebook Page

CLASSIC SONG OF THE WEEK–About El Paso

“El Paso City” is a song written and recorded by American country music artist Marty Robbins. It was released in March 1976 as the first single and title track from the album El Paso City. The song was Robbins’ 15th number one on the U. S. country singles chart. The single stayed at number one for two weeks and spent 11 weeks on the chart.

Out in the west Texas town of El Paso I fell in love with a Mexican girl.
Nighttime would fine me in Rosa’s Cantina,
Music would play and Felina would whirl.

Black as the night were the eyes of Felina,
Wicked and evil while casting a spell.
My love was strong for this Mexican maiden,
I was in love, but in vain I could tell.

One night a wild young cowboy came in, wild as the west Texas wind…
Dashing and daring, a drink he was sharing,
With wicked Felina, the girl that I love.

So, in anger I challenged his right for the love of this maiden;
Down went his hand for the gun that he wore.
My challenge was answered, in less than a heartbeat
The handsome young stranger lay dead on the floor.

Just for a moment I stood there in silence,
Shocked by the foul evil deed I had done.
Many thoughts ran through my mind as I stood there;
I had but one chance and that was to run.

Out through the back door of rose’s I ran, out where the horses were tied
I picked a good one; he looked like he could run,
Up on his back and away I did ride.

Just as fast as I could from the west Texas town of El Paso,
Out through the badlands of New Mexico.
Back in El Paso my life would be worthless;
Everything’s gone in life nothing is left.

But it’s been so long since I’ve seen the young maiden,
My love is stronger that my fear of death.
I saddled up and away I did go, riding alone in the dark…
Maybe tomorrow a bullet may find me,
Tonight nothing’s worse than this pain in my heart.

And as last here I am on the hill overlooking El Paso,
I can see Rosa’s Cantina below.
My love is strong and it pushes me onward, down off the hill to Felina I go.

Off to my right I see five mounted cowboys,
Off to my left ride a dozen or more.
Shouting and shooting; I can’t let them catch me,
I’ve got to make it to rose’s back door.

Something is dreadfully wrong for I feel
A deep burning pain in my side.
Though I am trying to stay in the saddle,
I’m getting weary, unable to ride.
But my love for
Felina is strong and I writhe where I’ve fallen.
Though I am weary, I can’t stop to rest

I see the white puff of smoke from the rifle,
I feel the bullet go deep in my chest.
From out of nowhere, Felina has found me,
Kissing my cheek as she kneels by my side.
Cradled by two loving arms that I’ll die for,
One little kiss and Felina good-bye.

–Marty Robbins
1959

“I’ve loved this song forever, so I used it as inspiration to write a piece of fiction. We will publish it next week. Hang On!” –Bandit

DIRECT FROM THE DOOMSDAY FILES–

Geologist Dr. Ian Plimer counters USA Today’s ‘fact-check’ on CO2 levels: Media’s ‘fact-checking resorted to lies & omissions’

FACT CHECKING THE FACT-CHECKERS

By Dr. Ian Plimer, Emeritus Professor – The University of Melbourne, Australia

Media Claim: Climate skeptic’s claims about CO2 levels, ice ages, and animals misleads. Fact check (by Kate S. Petersen, USA TODAY)

The article claims, “Neither Plimer nor the social media user responded when USA TODAY asked which “six great ice ages” they were referencing.”

That is a lie. USA TODAY did not contact me despite the fact that I am easily contactable.

USA TODAY’s fact checks state that “Human greenhouse gas emissions, not El Niño, drive climate change”. Nowhere have I claimed El Niño drives climate change, and it has never been shown that human emissions drive global warming. If it could be shown, then it would also have to be shown that the modern warming is completely different from previous warming. This has not been done.

USA TODAY’s fact checks state that “Greenhouse gases, not Milankovitch cycles, drives modern global warming”. This is contrary to data on the Earth’s orbit, solar activity and plate tectonics. Furthermore, it was never been shown that greenhouse gases drive climate change.

USA TODAY’s fact checks state that “Humans are responsible for a significant amount of CO2 in the atmosphere.” If one molecule of plant food in 83,333 molecules in the atmosphere is a significant amount, then I’m a monkey’s uncle. It would also have to be shown that the molecules of plant food of natural origin do not drive global warming.

USA TODAY’s rating of a talk I gave was “Partly false” regarding six major ice ages, and then played semantic games as to whether an ice age or a glaciation within an ice age could be considered an ice age.

The key points of my talk were not addressed. These were:

(a) Ice ages and glaciations were initiated when the atmospheric carbon dioxide content was far higher than today (e.g. Huronian, Cryogenian, Permo-Carboniferous) hence, atmospheric carbon dioxide could not drive global warming.

(b) Increases in atmospheric temperature are followed by an increase in atmospheric carbon dioxide, which is the opposite of the climate activist mantra that suggests an increase in atmospheric carbon dioxide drives global warming.

(c) For decades, I have asked climate activists to give me half a dozen scientific papers that show unequivocally that human emissions of carbon dioxide drive global warming. This has not been done.

It appears that fact-checking resorted to lies and omissions of pertinent information. Ideologically-blessed activist fact checkers with no scientific training give little confidence.

Emeritus Professor Ian Plimer,
The University of Melbourne,
Australia

THE BIKER MOVIE BY PETE ALVA—

We watched a portion of the Biker Movie by Pete Alva almost 6 years in the making.

A party movie for sure covering every biker event on the planet. Check it out.

–Bandit

NEVER STOP AND NEVER GIVE UP—We’re headed to the Meeting of the Minds later this month to check legislative action from the boots on the ground crowd.

I’m headed to an AMCA banquet tonight hopefully on the funky 5-Ball Panhead.

My ’48 UL is still for sale. I put it on Hemming’s to check the vintage action.

Got a note from Cabana Dan. He made up this concoction of Kryptonite to soak his early cylinders.

Here’s what happened.

My son at All Saints Tattoo with his two daughers, my grandkids.

Here’s Erika, my daughter-in-law on the right, Olivia, who is working in the entertainment industry and hopes to act and Maxine, the master at eyebrows is also becoming a tattoo artist. Erika is working with recovery folks and produced a video called, “We are the People.” She’s about to graduate with a masters degree in operating non-profits.

I’m very proud of them all.

Still working on a memorial for Buck. He’s been part of the chopper industry as long as I have and won’t be forgotten.

Last weekend, rode in a Poker run out of Deadwood Custom Cycles to support a company training dogs for disabled vets. Riding the hills around Sturgis is like a tour through biker heaven, amazing.

And here are the brothers at the Hall of Fame breakfast. Micah, Keith Terry, Sugar Bear, Jay Allen, and the Hamster boss, Dave Perewitz.

I bought some of Vivek’s bling. I’m keeping an eye on him. We need a true revolution away from traditional politics.

We will see. Stay strong, free and involved.

Ride forever,

–Bandit

Hey,

I ponder the theme for the news every week. Sometimes it’s a no-brainer, sometimes a celebration. I’m headed to an AMCA banquet tonight hopefully on the funky 5-Ball Panhead.

My ’48 UL is still for sale. I put it on Hemming’s to check the vintage action.

Last weekend, rode in a Poker run out of Deadwood Custom Cycles to support a company training dogs for disabled vets. Riding the hills around Sturgis is like a tour through biker heaven, amazing.

Stay strong, free and involved.

Ride forever,

–Bandit

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New Bandit’s Cantina Episode 103

by K.Randall Ball with images by George Fleming

Bandit woke the next morning with a start. Emotionally beat-up he struggled with depressing thoughts of the future. He couldn’t figure how society could be living in the best of times, yet some folks were making it the worst.

He showered and scrambled down stairs. The crew made their way quietly around the Cantina as if in a thoughtful daze.

“I’m working on some info for the pamphlet,” Margaret said and studied Bandit’s features. He wasn’t the type of guy to give up or even step back from a fight.

Bandit looked up and smiled. “We’re going to do something or die trying.”

Read the epic series of 103 episodes only on Bikernet.com by clicking here.

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Excerpts of Travelogue, Riding in the USA

Graeme explores the States as changing roads and places bring new adventures in differing weather, and happy company.

Text and Photos by Graeme Lowen

After last night’s fiasco trying to find camera and getting back to the motel, I did some more work with google and found a Walmart only 10 miles or so away that sells cameras.

The stop at the gas station and its method of pre-pay was quite a novel experience. I was instructed by the young female assistant to put the cash into the machine , as much as I needed, hit enter and out came a receipt for the amount as well as a code number. I went out and filled the bike up and went back to get my change.

Read this wonderful “view” of USA from a tourist’s perspective – only at Bikernet.com

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

 

Changing weather in representing global warming

from SubStack of Ujjwal Dey, images by Ujjwal Dey

Symbols can represent personal as well as social change. It can even be revolutionary or represent a sanctuary, a place of safety or refuge.

Symbolic expressions? What’s the easiest symbol to make yourself approachable and friendly? Yup, just smile!

Symbols and its perspectives will change over a period of years, cultures and geographies. Sometimes, they represent an idea and at other times they are magical ‘sigil’. How have symbols represented environment, ecology and climate change?

Read this pictorial editorial on Bikernet.com

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