Felefold cycles

Half way through the year 2019. Really? No doubt. Still here. Still racing for the win. Here, there, anywhere that feels right. Not on that mountain this year, though I felt it’s pull all spring. Springs pull and push as all forces have flow that goes both ways. But after the waves come in and out I am happy to find myself constant. With or without the race to the clouds, I am still here.  Another will never return from those clouds and due to his prolific stature I reckon the motorcycle’s days on the hill may be done. The vintage motocross did end up taking me full circle of sorts. Turns out the friendly fellow I pitted next to at the Dick Mann dream race offered me a spot on a dream team joy ride in having a go at a 50cc record in Bonneville. Hell yeah, why not! The engineer bike/engine builder form Norway seems a real ace and if nothing else I look forward to sharing a cocktail or two. Been about ten years since I went my first and only time to the salt, inspired by ol’ Joe the hairy old pikes peak racer that  not only got me to the salt that year but also gave me light to build an xs 650 flattracker and have a go at roundy round racing. Thanks Joe.  How the hell? One thing leads to another. I sure am sure about one thing and that is my luck. I am not sure how I end up with the rides I do but I ride them like I do. If that makes any sense. Still, my luck is amazing and if the collection police come to take me know that I am satisfied with it all. Old dog, Love lady, Precious plain old van and all. Any hoo, Rambles shmambles. I won another race or two since last post and I am still doing my best to finish the 4 wheeled cage Subaru vw bug racer car named: Adolf Wusabee. Fucking spell check fail. I feel stronger and stronger about giving up on the artificial life that computers have become but here I find inspiration and hope to spread to others. Keep dreams conscious, don’t wait until tomorrow, love your loves, and for fuck’s sake keep it pinned wide fucking open,

Bull Hollow raceway was a perfect day for a street bike shred. As captured on camera by good old Brother Mick

Last weekend I drug Baja out of retirement and raced a 2.5 mile hill climb on the old XR600 that had not been raced since Pikes Peak 1996.
Keep on Keeping on.