Saturday, September 15, 2018

New Chapter

We have fled the city. The gun shots have subsided and the dust appears to have settled from my crazy homeless summer. Back in May we sold our house, making out like filthy bandits with a bunch of yuppy ass gentrified fake real-estate money. The plan was multi fold; Get my Cookie her Masters Degree, get my far too busy to enjoy shop out of the city, and get away from the exploding populated gross metropolis that was once Colorado's front range. Back to the Western Slope. Where the oil wells and meth labs run free and the raging liberal hippy douche is not trying to close our public lands in the name of freedom. Nothing makes sense to me either. I am sure that I will be just as sick of the diesel dork red neck bigot fucks as I was when I left the western slope seven years ago in search of the love, peace and understanding. I found a lot in Denver and I don't regret any of it. However, I can rant for ages about the lack of respect that all the transplants moving to my mountains shit all over. Literally littering their shit all over. Trail heads look more like a Great Dane Labrador's back yard poop pile. Anyhoo, I did not want to write this overdue post to bitch and piss and moan about SHIT. Fuck whining. My motto this summer has been to make shit happen. It has not been easy and it is not going to be but I signed papers on my own building. 2700 Square feet of happy place. Behold my forever shop.  Let the hoarding begin.







Tuesday, August 28, 2018

They'r gonna put me in the movies...

And all I got to do is act naturally.

Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Dinah-Moe Humm

Finally got this thing together. And I am stoked!

"MOTORCYCLE BOY" The Legendary Tigerman from James F. Coton on Vimeo.

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Out in the yard




The mice leave their little black capsules where I eat. The Bunny rabbits keep the lawn mowed down for Baja. Her capsules are not so tighty. Nervous and scattered. Nobody else around except for the imprisoned dogs at the near by dog kennel; Barking, yipping, and whining their erie cries. When they finally go quit then Baja and I can go to sleep. Crack! - I awake. What was that noise? Another Crack, the distinct blast of a gun. I grab my shot gun and then begin to think...Who? Why? What the fuck am I really going to do? Another 5 or six shots. An un-easy night of sleep in Rocky Flats.


Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Throes

As soon as I knew she was serious about moving, I knew hard days were ahead. Struggles lead to accomplishments, not always, but ours sure as shit better. As with racing, I must be patient. I want so much to charge to the finish right now but I am building myself up for it and preparing for the final lap. calculating victory.
Living out of my backpack in all of June was not so bad. I had the Peak and the Lone duck has nice laundry facilities. We bought a new house on the first of July which I am thrilled about. However it is there and my shop is still here, 4 hours away. This I find worse than not having a house at all. My dream is to buy my own shop and I have come close several times in the past few months but there is a lot of difficulty involved with commercial lending, municipal planning, and red fucking tape. I am a  C class racer and have tasted much defeat lately. Only one way to move up; get up.
I have always been at war with the mice in my shop. I kill off a dozen or more every year and I am ok with the task. 20 minutes from my shop on the radioactive grounds of Rocky Flats is where my camper is parked and has more or less been not so much home but lets call it base camp. This week the mice finally got into my camper. I figured this would happen. But the little critters then hit me where it counts. They got into my van. My sacred capsule. No provisions are safe. Not for me or Baja. The little rodent fucks have infiltrated my soul space. I feel a bit crushed but again, I must not stop charging. Clean up the carnage, take a baby wipe bath and keep on keeping on. I went to the store and bought a 30 pack of PBR. The idea is to finish my chopper project of many years for the Run To Raton this weekend. With the sweat stinging in my eyes I tried to find the oozing oil leak on the cylinder that I had poured many hours and many dollars into. I got it at the junk yard and bored it over 4mm. I finally found where the cam chain guide had some how punctured a hole into the cam chain tunnel in some mysterious event before I came along and had my bore bar make long and churning love to it for many hours. I had even welded broken cooling fins on the old bag of dicks. I fixed it. I also removed a broken off bolt that I did do my self. (I am very good at not only fixing but also breaking!) It was then near midnight and I had lost count of what number PBR I was on and one of the cam tower bolts kept right on spinning, torque wrench and all. And then another one also pulled it's threads right out. I think the thread sealer I was using did em in, along with the fact that this is a 40 year old lump of bits and shit. Tear back down and drill, tap, install thread serts. Sleep on the cot next to my tool chest. Awake, feed Baja and Await reply for my dream shop I have put in an offer for...






Monday, July 9, 2018

Saturday, June 30, 2018

PPIHC 2018 in the books





It was good. I gave it my all. Much fun was had. And there was glory!
After living out of my back-pack for the last month and getting this accomplished I am ready for a nap. Not to happen though. The day after the race I got my trophy and drove to Kansas with my companion to get her settled for her 9 month program to get her Masters degree. I made it back to my shop last night were I slept after doing what I do with the two wheeled things I do. I am trying to get some work done today and then I drive to the western slope to hopefully make some dreams come true and then get ready for the next hill climb race next weekend. I am the dog and there are many balls to chase. Woof!

Thursday, June 14, 2018

Homeless, wealthy, reckless, and wild

Shortly after this wonderful photo was taken I set up my cot between bike and my tool chest. There I slept and dreamt. I sleep better in my somewhat self cooled brick building shop than compared to my camper that has been serving as my home for the last two weeks. Parked in a lovely junk yard out in Rocky Flats where the winds of radiation and nuclear waste blow freely through the screen caravan windows. Two weeks ago I moved out of my nice home. Not forced out by financial or marital problems (Cookie and I are tighter than Jacque Cousteau's deep sea butt checks) but rather for a change of direction in life. We are planning our evacuation of the ever overcrowding city and charting a course for a living situation that better suites both of our rural roots. The first part of the plan is getting my Cookie her MLS degree in Kansas and getting me more than one shower a week.

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Back on America's Mountain

Early tire test was last weekend and it went very well. Im up 20 lbs since the last 450 attack on the hill and since then have been accustomed to bikes with almost four times the power so the bike feels a bit slow. But looking back at my notes on gearing and set up, the bike is making more power than ever. Large in thanks to the Lectern carb and my development in engine building. The bike is running out of revs in 5th gear at the top so that is good. It sure is a lot of fun to be able to push the bike so hard and not be as scared as I was last year.  The Light Weight class is stacked with competition. Our times were all with in a few seconds every run so I will have my work cut out for me....

Sunday, June 10, 2018

#3



Sometimes traction is hard to find but hooking up is not always important; Keeping momentum and keeping the wheels turning is -Both life and racing.

Thursday, June 7, 2018

The good stuff




Every once in a while I am able to stop chasing the tennis balls and sticks thrown for me and take a few days to relax and let the good stuff soak in. Happy to be alive and lucky to experience it shared with her.

Thursday, May 31, 2018

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Temple Canyon #1


When it is good, it is good. Wallace gets it, Baja gets it, and I try.

I think one of the things I like about Hill Climb racing is all the waiting. It sucks. Contradictions. The brief moments that demand fulfillment of potential. All day spent waiting for two 2 and a half minute runs. I try.

The Pikes Peak bike is running stronger than ever with new engine build and a Lectern carb that I have only great things to say about.  One more test race with some Supermoto this weekend and then...

Sunday, May 20, 2018

Moments of clarity

Moments of clarity. They seem rare and precious but it was not always so. When I was a growing child (a younger one than I am now) everything was a revelation and something that struck chord on the consciousness of here and now. It seems the older I get the more meaningful these moments of clarity. Often times my meaningful moments are when the visor is down, body is attentive and all is revolving around what happens between a green flag and a checkered flag. They seem a window to a world that allows potential to fulfill a true and pure purpose. A quality is found.  So silly a game to an outside perspective but the inability for "normal" to fit into it is part of what makes it a quality, at least to me. I have had much on my plate lately. Much is up in the air in my current life's chapter. I am moving and moving is always a time of some stress. So today when I put on my race lid and did what I do between the green and checkered flag, I felt a relieve, a personal conquest of finding my way. I found my way right up to the edge where as my front tire broke traction, I looked over the edge at what all I had found my self perched upon. And then I did it again. And then pushed a bit harder. It is important to know where the edge is for me and that is one of my ways of getting shit done. In racing, in relationships, in my job, and as they are all one; in my life.
Yesterday I had a talk with a friend about being lucky and how it is possible for one to be lucky or the counter part. It is a basic truth that some have great luck while others seem to always come out of a barrel of loly-pops sucking their own thumb. How can the laws of nature be? Does what go around really come around... always? I believe so or do I just follow such ethics? I am not sure of any but I am sure that whatever happens happens and that is just the way it goes, Simple truth. Nature has no favorites beyond Darwinism But I do indulge questions to scratch an itch in my pondering; why am I so damn lucky, and will I always feel so? Totally stupid ponder but maybe I am just getting some shit off my chest. Maybe I want to shout it from  a rooftop that I am one lucky sumbitch. Or maybe - hell, any half brained racer knows that it is not even worth a bother to worry over. Be thankful for the good in life. Love what you love. Race the race. 747 soapbox over and out for now.
Wallace took great pics of the hill climb race today but they aint ready yet so here is one he took at Pikes Peak about a year ago. My SV650. In the following corner I lost the front and layed her down. Wallace being the true friend was more concerned about me than getting the shot. I like Wallace. 

Thursday, May 3, 2018

Good things gone bad

I knew the intake valve was wasted. It was so rusted that when I brushed the rust off, it had deep rotted pits. But I cut a fresh valve seat and face and ran it. At the last race of the season last year it held up. However on the first lap of the first race of this season it let go. This is how I do R&D. My dumb ass ruined a nice old Bruce Sass ported head. Damn it!