Where did the front end go? I found it! I lost it.

While leading the championship race on the last lap... all by myself.

 Whew, what a save! ...not.

 Hell of a way to end the season!

highnoon commercial3

And dont forget to be a manwolf and read motorcycho. More here!

Stevie Gee radness

In the life of racing

Saturday was our last flattrack of the season. We found out that it was probably going to be the last one at the IMI complex ever as the place was not helping our promoter do anything. Supposedly we will have new tracks and a series next year so that should be cool. I raced good in the vintage class and took a respectable 3rd. In the 30+ vet class I was leading it way out front on my 450. I saw the white flag and thought: Sweet! Then I thought: shit! My front was tucking hard coming into the first corner of the last lap. It kept tucking and I had all my weight on my hot shoe. I saved it and then instantly tucked it again with no foot under me to save it.
Sunday was the big annual hairscramble. 2 hours of moto track and a 8 mile prepped loam carve fest. I knew I was out of shape having only ridden the knobbies twice this summer so I planned on taking it easy in the vet class and running a solid mellow pace. Well, when the flag droped I fucked that strategy all to hell when I got the holeshot on the whole 50 man pro line and stayed out front for most of the moto track that I had not ridden in two years. Boner-airs to flat landers. Casey McCaseter blew the steering stabalizer. I spent the first half of the race battling the young seasoned pros and the second half of the race trying not to bight of my flopping tung and battling a sever leg cramp. If your gonna be dumb ya better be tough. I only got passed by few young pros and won the vet class. I realize today that my body and mind have a major communication problem and I better get to sorting that one way or another. Happy trails.

The art of racing in the rain

That's the title of a good book I once read. Recommendations  #237 Lord Mick dirt box ragger.  It was done in the perspective of a dog. In schooled up writer people terms i think thats something like personified 1st person narrative. Maybe I just made that up. Basically the thought is that holding on loosely (figuratively and literally), embracing the slide,  and feeling the flow with all around you is a good way to live (race (live)). I like parentheses. Somebody, who is one of my favorite writers recently  praised the way I write this blog without offending anyone. This person wondered how I accomplish this. Much self-control and patience?  Maybe subconsciously. I have frankly from the conception of this blog just really not gave a flying fuck. At least not to my language. Or content. I am sure it has offended plenty but I like to think in a punk rock way. Not a raving neo nazi pro life snuff film gun totting redneck bigot way. What I do care about is just hoping to delivery some sort of internet shovel load of shit with enough quality that some other like minded nuts can relate and maybe enjoy. Like minded in maybe more than just the surface context of racing, or living on/in wheels. I like to read something when I don't think it is deep or serious and find it to be completely full of both. Kind of like when a road side taco stand knocks your socks off. (I hope you washed you feet today.) So I reckon I find motivation in sharing something from the heart. Sharing is good. The world could use more of it. I love to read someone's stuff when it is unfiltered, from the heart, and simply pure. It's like watching someone kill it on the start line and be in front by the end of a race. The race strategy is ditched and replaced with just the racer's emotion. The mental rules of the game are shed and the talent and heart of the racer is shining. It is the good stuff. The stars are aligned allowing the whole organic and metal machine to mesh and operate on a rare and precious level. Some years ago, I was driving home from a desert race in the south west. Ten hours in after a long two days of racing with only 45 minutes of driving left. I was completely checked out, on auto pilot, and basically lost deep in thought. Not driving, Not thinking of living to see another day. Not the fact that the road had become shinny with frozen snow. I think they call that ice. I crested a high pass with my foot deep in the accelerator pedal pushing the overloaded van up the grade. A corner we know as a blind apex sent the boat into a tremendous four wheel slide down the grade to the out side of a corner. A run away death ramp that stopped some where near the bottom of the San Juan mountains. My slideways  brain sent my feet into pedal tapping actions and suddenly my hands were steering the wheel like a graceful octopus bus driver in downtown Boston. I am not sure if the overhanging back wheels caught some traction when they left the tarmac or if I saved it with my skills or the possibility I am just a lucky fuck. I did a speedometer check and yup; I really did have my foot into that accelerator pedal. Coming down the backside of the pass I saw two 4x4 autos pilled into snowbanks and trees. I am sure they were crawling along all white knuckled with there hubs in and wrists locked.  I like to think a loose grip and maybe an adventures soul is the way to roll.  Ride the slide. Keep the balance.

i like big bikes

Watch at 1:10. keeping it real

Shit in the Shop ( why does my TIG machine keep shocking me)

Burning metal. Everything smells like burning metal. I have found a toy that keeps my attention. I have not yet even finished unwrapping it. but the thoughts of it's intended use are good. Every night I blow black boogers and wake up jolted from a dream of tig welds that seem to keep shocking me. Is this the seed that leads to shock therapy. Is this just a destiny. Life with motorcycles. If you build it, they will come. Like a ravenous wild cat.

Motorcyle jesus says; repent, your sins will be forgiven. Yea yea yea, i am going riding... as soon as I learn how to weld.

It's been a big, long, and hard summer....

 Mango made a new "friend"

 i got a new, sexy, red headed pile of debt

 we designed a drop in ramp

 and built it later

 then made speculations as the the potential outcomes of the idea

 got some fresh dubs for my g ride

a tattoo that doesn't look like it came from a CD player motor attached to a guitar string

and to cap it all off, a new truck windshield

Team Honda XR650R ...you going to the mall later?

Welsh it. Well shit. The Oklahoma Gold Rush Grand Prix is on my to do list next month! After many years, some tears, a few beers I look to finally be able to make it this year. Lord Mick Hath shredded thy gnar before and got me on the hay ride to hell with a three man XR650AAARRRGH as in capital "R" team. Two days of 3 hr iron man, Vintage hairscramble, SX, Night Race, Team race, 3hr GP, and supermoto! Seriously more classes than Michael J. Fox could shake a stick at. ...Yeah; I know...
Read about Muke's conquist HERE

It's here! What the Fuck!

She knew I went racing when I met her! She knew I was Gypsy fuck and may load a bike hook up to the camper and take off any time! But now thatI. Bought a new racing bike and am talking about putting on the leathers again! Oh my! Lions and tigers and Bears Oh My! Lions And Tigers and Bears! You go racing all the time! I never see you anymore you been gone all summer!

Farm boy engineering

Chopped out 3" from the linkage. Did my first bit of TIG welding to put the link back together. Its not pretty but as they say in court: penetration is penetration. I think. Will it work? Dont know! Reckon I just have to put the Big ass XS together and bomb though some unsuspecting whoop section... either it will or it wont...
  UPDATE: Fail; suspension would not compress but a few inches because of the angle of the linkage fedangle. Math was the first class i dropped out of. Figured this was not going to be easy. Even more painful is the metal lodged into my eyeball preventing me from sleeping. As soon as i get out of what ever hell the doctors put me through to extract this weld slag that is painfully penetrating (penetration is penetration) my pupil, I shall go purchase some real safety glasses and some real drafting paper so I can figure out this fuckingodamnsumbitch linkage. Never give up. Tough get going- the tough get going. Gonna be dumb, gotta be tough. Feels to be a long sleepless night. Maybe my medicating will lead to another post. I could ramble on and on about how table tennis or tiddly winks would have been a much more pleasurable hobby than crazy ass fucking motorbikes. ...positive vibration to follow :)

♣ Such Commitment at Such Speed ✔ Ulster Grand Prix - Belfast,N.Ireland ...

New Bike

Got anew Flat Tracker! Campaigned I. The 70s in the KC area! Don't know nothing about it besides it is fast as the Diablo! And purdy! Thank you Jesus! And witch one of you Limes want to ride it a Dirt Quake next year! First come first serve!

MOTO's not dead

In the beginning I raced motocross. Fuck mondays. I am going to the motocross track. Gone riding. Sorry. Come back another time. The clutch finger lies dormant on the oval. The right hand wrist motion is a constant. Addition. Solved equation. Time away from knobbies. Festering roost within erupts like old fuckin faithfull.

Ride to love - Love to ride Photos by Wallace. Dank.

stunt it

Check Out What Happens With The Stunt man from Sid Rehmani on Vimeo.

The next adventure

Friends are great. What would we do with out them? I love coming up with shit on my own and doing things on my own, sure, but isn't it great when a friend comes along and lights a fire under your ass and gets you on board with one of life's excellent adventures. Co-built Geoff told me he was picking up some old british twin in L.A. so he figured he mind as well ride the L.A-Barstow to Vegas on it and the fire was lit. I figured why do the ride with him on my trusty XR650 when my neighbor just gave me an xs650 with a shot big end bearing that didnt know what to do with.... except chop off everything he had done to it.And do something with the swing arm. Hmmm, enter a 1994 YZ125 chassis that another neighbor donated. I may be a bit over the top but where there is a will, there is a way. Flame wrench + buzz box = mono shock swing arm... hopefully.

With all the XS bones I have around I have the engine sorted. I grinded, shimmed, hammered, and sexed a xr500 front end on and of course it all started with the correct fuel tank.

Who am I. I am who I am... And I like green eggs and ham