Sunday, June 18, 2017

One week until race day

Early mornings, late nights, long days. Race week starts tomorrow. The mystical moment before the sun cracks it's breath of brilliance. Hands on deck. Sails are catching the wind rolling off our wheels. ahoy!

Monday, June 12, 2017

Confessions, reflections, and dreams

There are things in my head that I can not even begin to put into words. Saturday I found my self once again in my Ronin race leather suite passing the corner where Carl lost his life. The last time I went by was three days after his crash and while I was on my way to a 2nd place overall finish. In the two years that have passed things have changed. Out of respect for my friends and family I have acquired a new fear for the mountain. Also, the road between Carl’s corner and the finish line had become much more bumpy. My bike was blitzing the tarmac humps in the same way a motocross bike skims a whoop-de-do section. These cold hard bumps had solid frozen water in-between them. My bike had a stiff and well set up for smooth as glass race track rear Ohlins shock. The front forks however were the stock Suzuki SV units with no damping adjustment, marshmellows for springs and what felt like jello for fork oil. The day before I removed the proper Inverted GSXR forks that complemented the rear Ohlins as per request for the Pike Peak committee’s rule of only allowing bikes equipped with OEM one piece handlbars. Their attempt at safety. The Thursday before I found out that UPS had had an “error” in shipping our special Bottpower race bike and it would not arrive in time to practice on. So, I called up the director of the motorcycle racing who would probably like to never see or hear form me again, and I asked him for permission to practice on my SV instead of the high profile Bottpower. He granted me the favor and there I was on the mountain at speed on my underpowered little Suzuki with shit for front suspension and DOT race tires I had never used before. On my second run up I crossed the double yellow with more lean than I should have and lost the front. It was good that it was just a slow tight hairpin corner and I never let go of the bars. My confidence however was gone. Later in the morning as the snow crystals blew across the road making small drifts I again totally lost the front but at a much faster speed I was able to save the bike from what would have been a bad crash. I am addicted to danger and that danger is the road. I must respect. Coming home from these mornings leaves a huge distance between me and the other people in my life. I want to tell them how much fun I just had but all they hear is how close I came to the edge. I want to share my experience but the only people who can even begin to understand are other self involved maniacs. In my head is a clumpy soup of pride and shame. It is a recipe of my own concoction that I am always cooking faster than I can eat. Hopefully today will see the delivery of the Bottpower and I can soon share a tasty feast of glory.

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Living the dream

I must have some of the best luck! Or maybe it is just the universe balancing out for all the time I spent in hand cuffs before DIRTBIKES saved my life. Anyhoo last Wednesday my buddy Campo who runs Meta magazine came in my shop and said he could get me a spot in the 125 dream race at Thundervalley. I am not worthy but my 2003 Amsoil Factory Connection Chris Gosselaar former pro number 39 bike knows a pro prepped track. I was planning on taking it easy before pikes peak to not risk injury. That plan fucked right off. Saturday found me in the middle of a full 40 bike gate in the middle of a national motocross. The sound of 40 125 two strokes had me shredding into the first corner with both raging goose bumps and a big ol' pre-mix boner. Thanks to Aaron Sauerbrey for the pictures!

Friday, June 2, 2017


I was told Friday that I would fly out Monday to Spain to test the bike. I spent Saturday and Sunday racing the Temple Canyon Hillclimb some 3 hrs south of home. I won and set a new motorcycle course record and had a shit ton of fun doing it. I got home late Sunday night just in time to let the dogs out and have them get sprayed by a skunk. I packed my bag and wished my wife the best of luck with giving the dogs a bath. After three planes and many hours I arrived in Spain where Bottpower David picked me up at the Valencia airport and we went straight to the shop where the bike awaited me. We spent several hours securing large bundles of excess wire spaghetti piles with zip ties and duct tape. Not exactly what I was expecting. At the local Kart track that afternoon I got to spin some laps on the beast and was happy with how it handled. The next two days I spent with the bike up on a lift back at the shop, I diagnosed and fixed a charging system failure and did my best to tidy up some of the last minute stuff and give all the fasteners the touch of a wrench. We then drove 3hrs to Aragon home of Motorland, the most amazing track I have ever seen let alone ride. It has been home to Moto GP! The next two days we sorted out many issues. I did my best to keep positive and keep progressing with the bike. It is a very capable bike for pikes peak and I should have it up on my lift at my shop next week for some final messaging love. We will do some more testing and a track day before heading up to the mountain next weekend for the early practice weekend. With the team of friends and support we have I am confident we will have the bike operating in top form and I will gain next level confidence allowing us success.

Hill Climb - a lesson in time from visualhybrid on Vimeo.

Thursday, May 18, 2017

She's A Runner!

Pikes Peak tugs at emotions in many ways. One of the many mental stresses for the last three years for me has been depending on other people. Before it was only me. When somebody says that they are building a super machine that they want me to ride, I feel completely honored and thankful for such opportunity. Though I hope for the best I expect the worst. Because I know how hard it is to build a race bike from scratch I know that it may never come together in time with such exotic and high tech machinery such as Ronin and Bottpower. Though I got to do some early testing on a stock Ronin the Race bike was a whole different beast and it was not ready to ride until practice on the mountain. When I prepared a Multistrada for Paul last year I was the one being depended on to get things sorted in time and even with a mostly stock bike it was a stress on my part.  Add to it the race organizers selection of the limited field of racers and my uncertain standings with the organization. It was a huge relief to have my entry accepted this year. This year I am in store to race a special bike built to conquer the mountain from the ground up by world class Moto2 engineer. To say I have been a bit eager is like to say my dog likes to fetch a ball. With less than a month to go until first practice on the mountain I have been informed by David with Bottpower that the bike completed it's first test without issue. A former world superbike racer did the shaking down. I soak this all in as I type this. I am to fly over to Spain next week to test the bike myself. I am totally and completely tickled pink to purple. Insert goofy, grinning, shitting pants emoji here.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

The Wolf will shred again.

I met Carl at the 2013 Pikes Peak race to the clouds. We hit it off. He was getting into dirtbikes and looking to me for help. I was getting into tarmac racing and looking to him for help. In 2014 he bought a ZX10 and raced it up the hill finishing in the same amount of minutes and seconds as me. I don't remember the time but I do remember having a real good time that year. He was always a lot of fun to be around. He inspired me to buy an old SV650 to turn into a track bike and he was my instructor for my MRA licensing school. In my first race I was doing nose wheelies into turn 1 and Carl, his wife Lacy, and his brother Chris all told me that they would hate to see what I could do on a real race bike. I have done my best to transform the little SV into a proper bike but it will always be a sub hundred pony power pusher. But it does make some mother fuckers angry in the corners. Any how, I am tired of hearing people tell me that "I'd hate to see what you could do on a real bike." So I am buying the late great Hot Carl's ZX10 from Lacy. I want to put together a program next year to travel to new tracks and be a superbiker and I am going to give it everything I got.
Thank you Carl.

Friday, May 5, 2017

How Instagram has instantly instilled insecurity in in-sequentially inumerable inadauquite enormouse amount of shitty camera photos:

6 mile chocolate cake road race track on knobblies.

I have been riding as much as I can.

Gary built me a sexy exhaust. Gary is cool.

I bought a Goldwing 1500. Oh yes I did.

My work bench is my canvas.

The good, the bad, and the ugly.

I am building myself a new chopper. Because I am not sensible, smart, or able to come to grips with the standards of a society that sells smart cycle brain washing machines. Mikey builds me springer parts. Mikey is cool.

Gary builds himself a motorcycle. Gary is cool. Upside down stickers and all.

My happy place. Little Goose. Chris Gosselaar's 2003 (He finished 5th in the outdoors that year) Factory Connection CR125.
On the pipe.

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Training like:

This weekend is the Colorado Hill Climb Association's round one at CORE off road park out in eastern Colorado where the only hills to climb are figurative. I am not sure what to expect but I hope to just get some high speed handlebar time in in preparation for the BOTT.

Monday, April 10, 2017

Wallace and I go to the tarmac

He takes pictures and I learn how much I can trust old take off race slicks without tire warmers. It was a lot of fun. Just like motorbikes usually are.

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Monday, March 27, 2017

Pieces of a dream...

Exciting things happing at the BOTT shop. Read the story here.

Sunday, March 26, 2017

Tales from a more than fortunate DIRTBIKE bum

As I lay on a cold and dirty concrete floor going in and out of sleep, my stomach cramping from a nasty bought of Portuguese airport pub food revenge, I was not at all the least bit bummed out. I had just had the most un-real experience of going as fast as I dared on a 2016 KTM 500 for five straight days through Dakar rally stages, great big Saharan sand dunes, and some amazing Moroccan countryside. I believe that the moto gods created Morocco as a utopian dirtbike paradise. I knew my trip was going to be good when we arrived at the Moto Aventures home base and upon the briefing of our ten rider group, Johnny, our African Clint Eastwood like leader informed me that due to his injury from his last Sideburn tour was not going to be able to guide us and instead I was to be the guide. Fucking shit I thought, we are all going to die. Luckily Johnny has been running Moto Aventure tours for over 20 years and like a Mcgyver /Crocidile Dundee, he always knows exactly what to do. He had given every bike a nice GPS device and was going to follow us in a Range Rover to pick up the broken bodies and bent mangled motorcycles. So I was given the freedumb to ride as fast and far as I wanted to the next fuel stop or hotel. Wherever the GPS took me Sweet! So we all fueled up on Sans Plomb ((Unleaded) Green handle)) and made sure everybody’s GoPro was dialed in and took off out into the desert. The first vehicle I saw was an army tank. After identifying it as such I stopped riding directly at it. For the first few days I struggled with my role of guide/ group ambassador. My desert racing background has left me as scared of dust as a cat is of a full bathtub. I tried to ride a subdued pace but some of my fellow Colorado buddies seemed to want to ride hard to keep up with me. One of them severely dislocated his thumb but managed to ride the whole trip with a mangled and swollen hamburger paw. I finally decided that my dust would not be anybody else’s problem and just opened it up and hammered down pretending I was actually riding a Dakar rally. We would meet up at scenic spots were I could peel away from my inner desert racer and take in the amazing scenery. We met up for provided lunch (Usually stewed and roasted meats with vegitables served in ceramic ant hill looking baking pots called Tanduri). We laughed and some teased me about my stupid speeds. We enjoyed stories of each other’s moments of greatness. It was a fun social trip but on a whole it was very personal and something I enjoyed mostly solo. Day three and four were spent mostly riding sand dunes. Some dunes were over 300 meters high. The wind was blowing and conditions were not ideal but it was like nothing I have ever done on a dirtbike. Johnny our guide had to saddle up and show us how to ride dunes as one could get very hurt or lost in the massive out of this world landscape. Johnny, the former Dakar racer, mounted with only work boots and no helmet thoroughly impressed me with his skills. It was very apparent that he had a lot of experience riding. After the dunes we spent a night in a bivouac. The wind howled through the camel hair tents and filled everything we owned with sand. This was probably my favorite part of the whole trip. The clean hotels with their fancy pools and Jacuzzi tubs were nice but the organic conditions of the bivouac made me feel less of a tourist and more at home. The riding was challenging and most of it very fast with plenty of danger. By the 5th day our group had two broken wrists, one dislocated thumb, and one badly blown up knee. I fared well with my desert racing experience but the universe keeps it’s balance so on my flight home I had a 20 hr layover in Lisbon which I mostly spent violently excreting my guts out and curled up on concrete floors. The yin and the yang. I had more fun in Morocco than I think one dirtbike bum should ever expect to have in a lifetime but I sure hope to make it back to the moto off road Mecca again!

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Captain's log - clean pinch one wiper

Where does happiness come from and where does it go when it dies.
Is America really the most sad place in the world.
I bought a Goldwing today. I got home and shaved off my beard. Sahara pictures by Teagan. Ali Baba lives.

Thursday, March 9, 2017

Keeping my head above the water

I took a little trip down memory lane on this blog looking for an old picture. I found it. I also found that I have changed a lot over the last ... fuck! - A lot of years have gone by. Of course I changed and damned if I have not shown signs of growing up. Damn. I don't want to grow up and get square but I am starting to find myself carrying out the most mundane of lame tasks from time to time. If i don't fertilize the lawn who will and that damn rabbit needs to get the hell out of my lawn. I have been filling holes, patching fences, and even spending good money on decoy owls and fake wind chime eye balls and shit. What the hell is getting into me. Ten years ago I would be drinking beer with that bunny. maybe even sharing some mushrooms with it and learning about the universe. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining one bit about my role in this system; I think I am living the dream. most of the time anyhow. I am one lucky bastard to hitch up with my best friend who happens to knock my dirty socks clean off. I have not had a boss for five years now and I think I would rather die than go back into that kind of incarseration. What I am getting at here is something deep inside. Some kind of struggle to fight the power that is mini vans, nightly news show watchers, and conformist shit eating sheep telling me how to live my life. Thank fuck for my motorcycles and my tools that allow me to enjoy them. When ever I feel beat down by the pigs that are all around, salvation is never far. I get in the fucking van. Or I build the engine. turn a few wrenches and make a few bucks. Buy some tires or a plane ticket or what ever it is that us free people can buy with this stupid form of currency that harnesses us like a mule. I look at how many great things have come about in my life because of motorcycles and I just want to rub it in the face of all the preaching teachers who told me to accept metiocraty as not only acceptable but honorable. I know from here I can only get older and slower but I will put my own head in a vise and crank it until my skull goes pop if I don't continue to follow my childhood dreams and learn something new everyday that can help me achieve moto-nirvana. Peace.  

Wednesday, March 1, 2017


Kriega has made a limited run of  BOTTPOWER Pikes Peak edition quality bags. All profits go to fund our effort on the hill this year. KICK ASS!!! Go to today!

Monday, February 27, 2017