I get asked to go riding with people a lot. It goes along with having a motorcycle shop I reckon. Thing is though, for me riding is not a social occasion. When I put on a helmet I tune into a channel of focus that usually involves speed that nibbles at the outer edge of control. I often top off the tank and do not stop at all or even let off pace until I am back to the fuel jug with a near empty tank. It may go back to my training rides when I was racing pro off road or it may be that it is just my happy place to be alone, eyes glazed, hands tightly clenched while my brain makes split second calculations. I know my time to cherish in this behavior is limited. Someday I must slow down. Or at least get a gps tracker to let my partner know where I am at. After all I am a dad now. I do have a couple of true old pals that I do enjoy to share my now valuable and infrequent throttle twist time with. Being a dad and aligning schedules with others is tough. So is being a serious rider though, no mater who you are. A couple of years ago an old skinny dude with a long grey Billy Gibbons beard came into my shop and like many found my shop inspiring. After inviting me to ride with him like so many others I was ready to retort my reply I keep on ready playback and then I stopped myself and said sure, why not. I think it was the way he talked about sliding 5th gear corners with a twinkle in his eye on the many gas and oil field roads he knew. Peter has spent his life working the oil and gas fields of western colorado, all the while riding dirtbikes. At 67 years old he still does just that. He has only bought two bikes brand new; A Suzuki TM400 that he rode into the ground and his current stead a 1982 Honda XR500. The first time we rode together, I was at first concerned. He proclaimed he was geared up after grabbing some old work gloves and a street bike helmet with a badly scratched visor. He took off like a raped ape and I was doing everything I could to stay above his roost. We were instantly in 5th gear as he flew over blind crests spinning his bald as a baby's ass rear tire like a speedway champ. "Crap!" I thought, I am about to have to call an ambulance to the middle of nowhere. But then he started giving me hand signals while in the middle of 5th gear corner slides... "Fuck! This dude IS for real!" Since then we have enjoyed some really good rides together. He gets paid to go out and service the oil pumps so it is free gas to him and he gladly hauls me along. He might not ride singletrack at my stupid pace though he is never far behind and he rides pace on the roads faster than any young bucks I ride with. He likes to stop every once in a while to puff one of his doobies. I however keep my recreating to only one form at a time these days. But I am learning to enjoy the ride along with the riding.
Wednesday, March 30, 2022
Saturday, March 19, 2022
Elvira's vibrator
My brain cells have finally stopped doing the Hokie Pokie dance steps learned while designing the expansion chamber enough to finally write a post. But they are still sweating and gnawing like a husky sled dog ready for another haul across the arctic. The pipe about mounted up as good as I hoped but of course with a fair amount of my less than perfect way of just getting shit done. I hope it works but am fully prepared to do another version, if nothing else to perfect the fabrication skills. Hell, I may even use a cone anvil instead of my hands and an old steering stem to form the sheet metal. maybe even an upgrade from the tin snips I bought from the 50 cent crate at the pawn shop. The rear hub fits into the swing arm with about as much room to spare as a thong on a big black booty behind the pole in a club on north freemont street that acquires a young cracker patron in a pearl snap shirt and wont let him leave her lap until the sun comes up and he has to drive back home to colorado that very day. That was a long time ago. But she named me "Lil' White Chocolate" and my nipples have never been the same since.
Anyhoo, the YZ450F ebay radiator fit up nice enough with some bracket weldin. I found a new XR750 seat on VFT. The seller asked what I was doing and told me my frame is worth more than my finished bike would be. He also told me with out me asking that he was a flattrack team owner or something. Whatever. I thanked him. The coffin tank was much more easy as opposed to tunneling out an old kawi tank. I think it also adds to the tarnished nickel frame polish. Hell even the primer grey seat works. U cant take the patina pervert out of me. I am trying to make something that looks a bit more optimistic than that of how it performs but I really hate using more than what I have in my hoard pile and I just might be a hopeless trash bin scraper Sleeper builder. Fuck. I hope this thing is actually ridable on a track let alone the blue groove track that is the only track in colorado. I cant help but wonder why nobody races a 500 2 stroke. I think A young Tim Neave companied one in the UK for a season before he went tarmac racing. Other than that zip zero nada. A 500 makes down low power not un like a four stroke 450 but it also has a quick snap and something like 28 percent more torque. So I engineered the pipe for a low and wide power band. Fuck if I know if that engineering works better than a duck fart in outer space. I also opened up the combustion chamber and from my experience Lectron carbs smooth the hit like ice cubes in a big bad water bong. But if this widow maker really is hell bent on teaching me the art of breaking collar bones I reckon I can always get out my JB Weld and lower the port heights. Now I just need to sack up and fit a brake and some foot pegs and see if I still know how to go fast in circles... Oh, and I did start it and it does sound like Puff The Magic Dragon having ben wa balls ripped out by Betty Page on top of a stack of Marshall amps while Dime Bag Darrell from Pantera shreds a guitar solo. So yeah.
Friday, March 18, 2022
Sunday, February 6, 2022
Pulse Jet Rocket Exhaust
Wednesday, January 26, 2022
Bakc to basics: A lesson in trail
I ride trails. Not trials. I partake in trials, tribulations, try anything once. Tried it before. Might try it again. Long ago I learned what rake angle was. It broke and I had to buy the wife a new rake. I also learned what off set and trail where. I let my un diagnoised ADD number fearing brain let those equations fad away and just know what it feels like when my forks are too steep or when the off set is twitchy. But this nice tight discussion from Richard Pollock of Mule makes much more easy sense than my normal eyeball it, cut, grind, eyeball it more and say "fuck it, fuck yeah". I must be getting old. preaching about doing things correctly. Whatever. Give it a read and maybe you will be less lost loading dog turd leaf piles into the bin with a broken rake while rationalizing why a trail and a trial are of importance at all.
https://phillittleracing.com/richard-pollock-of-mule-motorcycles-talks-about-sportster-race-handling
Sunday, January 23, 2022
KX500 Trackmaster
I have been saving a Trackmaster frame for about 5 years now. Good old Tommy bought it from Jim Henry and gave it to me to do something with. Jim Henry was the first person to help me out on the old Flattrack.com forums when I started building my XS. He set me straight on my maiden voyage into flattracking selling me a front to rear wheel quick change adapter and a seat. Thanks to him my XS was a well set up and behaving racer right from the get go helping me immerse myself into the sport of flattracking. Right after Tommy bought it Jim passed away. Maybe a year after the 80+ year old brakeless class racer had one gnarly get off at Stockton 1/2 mile. Tommy and I thought about putting an XS twin engine in the frame but I found out the frame was originally built for a single two stroke engine. The engine mounts had been heavily molested so I thought a lighter engine might be better, knowing my less than great welding on top of previous less than great welding added to a heavy 80 HP engine might go over like the Hindenburg. It sat. I moved. Tommy died. Rest in peace my Cosmic Cowboy amigo. A special frame awaiting a special engine. I thought of retiring it to a street tracker cradling the Gt550 2 stroke triple I have hoarded. I thought of another CRF450 framer. Then looking at it one day it hit me that I had a 1987 KX500 engine horded away awaiting a special frame. I learned some of the KX500 engine mojo tuning when building the KX500AF and it's stock frame sister build a few years ago. A powerful light engine in a classic known dirt oval track weapon. It won't be vintage class legal so the Durrell racing forks hoarded find themselves a worthy home along with a spare nice old heavy XS rear(old front) mag wheel with quick change adapters the Ranum bros machined up using my old Jim Henry as a model. First I cut the swing arm out and boxed it to accept modern wide rear tires. I fit the engine with the counter shaft as low as possible in relation to the swing arm pivot. Both the swing arm and motormounts are the first tig welding I have ever done not on aluminum and I am amazed how much fun tig welding steel is rather than aluminum. Much easier but still my weld quality leave much to be desired. For the past week now I have been masochistically torturing my ADD ridden, math class flunky of a brain with designing an expansion chamber.... Wish me luck.
Friday, January 7, 2022
Editorial
“There is a moment, an eclipse of conscious action and reaction, when a motorcyclist’s complete well-being depends upon calm, level headed perception. Perception of the ground and tire- a perception based on synapses that can key the body’s action to turn clumsiness or disaster into flowing motion. Maybe it happens crossing the crest of a razorback where the ground drops away sheer for a thousand feet to either side, or maybe it happens the first time the motorcycle becomes an extension of the feet when bike and rider leave the rise of a jump to clear the next in the air and land smoothly on the downhill side.
A complicated feat of hand/eye coordination? Sure. But what may have been luck, or skill, or practice has launched into a field of understanding. It is a moment where the concept of controlling a motorcycle goes far beyond what it meant in the past. A connection grows between the rider and the bike that appears as skill of speed.
If the new found abilities are to continue growing it must be a graduation into a new set of responsibilities; responsibilities where competence, judgment and sensitivity combine with satisfaction. From this point on riding a motorcycle begins to take on more subtle definitions: control becomes finesse, picking a way becomes taking the way, the earth becomes a friendly medium. Traveling over the earth with finesse, understanding and compassion provides satisfaction rather than gratification. Pleasures necessarily become more subtle, too.
In its finest form motorcycling should be like a martial art. The mind must work with the body to produce precision, rhythm and conservation of energy. A goal is to establish the most direct and efficient connection between the senses and the muscles. Without the cooperation of a calm and rational brain nothing is possible.
In order to expect to control a motorcycle the rider must understand the stimulys provided to him by the motorcycle. Actions from the handlebars and footpegs must be quickly translated into reactions. And the hands and feet have to be able to feel all the way through the motorcycle to the ground to sense its texture and slipperiness and interpret the news. The messages are infinitely subtle and require the utmost mental acuity to make good use of them.
Instrumental to both the establishment and maintenance of this calm but alert state of mind (meditative?) is a machine which comes easily to treaty with the mind/body energies. This means things such as steering geometry and weight distribution, seat comfort and shift lever location and how smooth and quiet the engine is. If any of these systems-handling, comfort or gentlemanly demeanor- are not adequately designed and constructed the result will be an inharmonious motorcycle, one which will inhibit rather than enhance good mind/body energy.
Of course, to construct a motorcycle which functions perfectly and in total harmony would be to assume that there is some individual who possesses both of those qualities. Or, that a group of individuals could work together, combine talents and produce the perfect product. And so it goes.
A sensitive motorcyclist may perceive, with no small astonishment, that a number of motorcycles have progressed an impressive distance towards that goal. Most impressive is that in many areas the manufacturers are offering potentials that many people have never imagined. Least impressive is their child-like possessive grasp of performance at the expense of more important qualities. And so it goes.
Not only does the responsible motorcyclist have competence in mind, body and machine and their interrelation, he can also apply them to what he is doing- the traveling over earth. The motion itself is the least productive of the activities contained in the sphere of motorcycling. Even the maintenance of the machine at least tends to perpetuate the activity. Therefore, the traveling requires the most attention if it is to be at all profitable.
A good place to start is the minimization of destruction. We are so retarded as to be seeking neutral grounds of good and bad. They aren’t inaccessible. In essence a motorcyclist and the machine are no different than the earth they travel upon. Carbon and hydrogen and some minor others like silicates. To say that a path in grass is of no harm because it will regrow in two or three years is conceptually the same as saying that a cut on the skin of a person is acceptable because it will heal in time. This doesn’t mean that all life must be cherished above all other concerns. There is no right and wrong, and pursuit of more right or more wrong is a lonely journey. The mere application of rational thought from that calm, aloof brain will result in the optimization of potential.
As the motorcyclist traverses the earth thinking about the more general concerns of the activity, the way the wind feels against the skin, hearing birds singing in trees, feeling the muscles enjoy the work, feathering the throttle to avoid needless tire spin and useless skids and enjoying the calm responsive way the body and mind work in gentle rhythm with motorcycle and earth, motorcycling takes on horizons much larger than all the crassness that it can just as easily mean.
Motorcycling can be a profit to mankind, can help people think better and understand their environment more thoroughly. Like any tool with cast potential for good, it can be equally bad. It can and does help many people to avoid thought and disregard their environment. It can inhibit rather than enhance perception. It can be a sickness.
Not only does motorcycling need a better public image, it needs a better internal image. On any given Sunday I can find you a thousand motorcyclists pursuing degradation of themselves through degradation of the land, the machine and the sport. They’re not pursuing satisfaction, they’re pursuing gratification. That is a sickness- a very visible one at that.
Eventually, and it may not take long at all, these people are going to tend to force you and me to quit riding our motorcycles through shame and embarrassment if not through the law. And so it goes.
I am no activist. I have no interest in or use for causes. I am only speaking for myself and I hope for the rest of the people associated with this magazine. What you have read is obviously no indictment. It is simply the philosophical background for the bike riders who prepare this magazine, presented so that you might better understand what we do. And there is no satisfaction in life without understanding, only gratification.” - Dave Shoonmaker
Sunday, January 2, 2022
Sunday, December 26, 2021
Winter reflection
Thursday, October 28, 2021
That time of year again
Tuesday, October 26, 2021
Life, death, in between
Last month my life changed like never before. I became a father. Pride, joy, amazement like I have never known before to exist! I did not ever plan on becoming a father but the universe provides. It is a giant weave of feelings too complex for me to pluck the words from but I will try to touch on the surface. But I reckon, it is far more common though no less meaningful or else none of us would be here. It is life. My daughter and me and Momma all share the life and pieces connect us all in this life as we hurl through the cosmos. Each of us contributing a generation until or body clocks out leaving behind pieces with the future. Grand responsibilities I have never before been able to even imagine. Those who do not know me so well ask what my racing days will now become. They will change but I will never not be who I am. I have always tired to preserve my self and respect the severity of life at speed. I continue to slide into life and it's sweeping corners with full bar locked lean angle, bargaining my tires for all the traction possible. Taking what I can, using what I need, giving back.
Last week my Wife's Grandfather died. He was as much of a grandfather as I have ever known. At 92 years, with the last 20 of them being diagnosed with Alzheimer's. He chewed his toothpick and smiled as he held is Great Grand Daughter. Then he shook my hand, said good bye. What Grace.
As Hunter S. said: "Buy the ticket, take the ride."
Thursday, September 23, 2021
Project KTM Killer (old man woods bike)
Monday, September 6, 2021
Hill Climb Racing. Colorado Hill Climb Racing
It takes everything I have to compete in these events. These "Hill Climbs". No, not nitro burning extended swing arm chained tire drag race, what every red blooded yankey doodle thinks of when I tell them that Hill Climb racing is my main focus these days.(Although that looks fun and challenging in it's own way) The Hill Climb I love is rather a rare treasure left behind in the old dust of Pikes Peak. These Colorado gravel roads. Switch backing up mountains through forests, sheer cliff edges, and the occasional fucking Brown Bear. As the cars both blue groove and chew the surface, the breaking points change, the random large rocks get kicked out of the ditch and into the line where concealing tree shadows can change from morning to evening. All the while the comfort zone expands into the limit of possible speed, constantly clawing for the new course record. What better a test to one's ability. A beautiful back drop to find a machine's character, become one with the controls all the way through to the tires, and exploit every tiny molecular piece of matter that makes traction. Yum.
Tuesday, August 31, 2021
Excess 750 spotlighted
I used my dad's old 35mm OM-1 to take some pictures at the vintage mx in Bull Hollow and the shots got some attention on the instagram. The Excess 750 ended up with a feature at: https://www.bikebound.com/2021/08/24/excess-750/
Tuesday, August 17, 2021
End of an era
I had been hearing rumors that for the 100th running next year they were going to invite former motorcycle champions to compete on supermoto bikes. That is not to be though and I reckon I am a bit relieved. I wont have to find a sponsor to come up with the $3k to enter. I like how in their little press release history of bikes on the hill (Link here)they touch on mostly tragedy and only name the few record setters and multi time champs they want to. Seems cheap to me but maybe the hill just meant more to me than most. I will keep all my memories (mostly all good, a few bad.) very dear. Everything changes and moves on down the swirling shit pipe of progress. Nothing stays the same no matter how much we cling to it. While at Lands End I heard that Steve and Lisa the 2nd generation owners of my old race week paradise The Lone Duck Campground sold and I can't blame them one bit. But I sure will miss getting up at 3am everyday of race week, stumbling through camp to Steve's coffee machine percolating away like a beacon in the dark. After morning practice sessions Steve, Lisa, and family awaited us flipping flapjacks on the griddle located right behind the camp office desk. They loved the race as much as us racers. But with the paved over race course along with it came bigger pocket having race teams who would rather rent an entire house instead of a campground full of grass roots racers sleeping in tents, puking behind vans, and ripping mini bikes around. Oh the fun that was had. I am so thankful to have taken part in a treasure of American racing that was pikes peak. Dirt, blood,tears, champagne... Lots of love.
Edit/ Addition: from the next week's issue of Cycle News written by Rennie.
I remember Rennie always being a real gentleman racer and somebody I could talk with easily about anything. I think it was his first year competing when he smuggled a back pack of beer with his gearbag to the finish line and he was happy to share it with us as we waited up there all day before we could come down. Cheers mate.
Wednesday, August 11, 2021
Lands End Hill Climb 2021
Thursday, July 15, 2021
“Deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex.” - Mr. Rogers
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| @camponophoto took this shot last Sunday. I think it is pretty good. |
| Rodeo |
| Baby got back! |
| I built a Mini-me for Ronin Danger AKA Fred's kid. Look out. |
Last weekend was the Monarch pass hill climb. The location of the first hill climb I raced in I think 2014. It is a good form of racing for me. I enjoy the demanding precision and perfection with limited time to get comfortable. Memerize the course best you can and take it to the limit knowing one mistake at the worng place could be disaster. Rewarding my inner mongoloid.
A poem I wrote last August:
Because I like to be put to the test.
I like to do things that put hair on my chest.
Ape-hanger, El Camino dirfter.
Adrenaline junky Trophy Whore.
Feed the need for speed
That's what for.
Rice burning beetle bug racer.
Baja beach one thousand mile tequilla chasser.
My drum brakes still have what it takes.
Beer belly thrusts and shakes.
I grow my own smoke.
I took the road I toke.
I'm the butt of my own joke.









