Bikes I miss...

Problem is one honky can only fit so many machines in a space. Give me an airplane hanger and I bet I could fill it up with in 6 months. That explains why I let the Gold Wing go. Fuck, that bike was a blast. Case of beer in each saddle bag with a 30 pack in the trunk, Credence on the tape deck, a burrito in one hand, cup of coffee in the other with the cruise control set and the arm rests. And that thing did BIG wheelies. The xr50 was the first bike I modded out. learned how to do a back flip on the little shit. So many fun times but all my knee surgeries and every motorcycle ER visits were a result of the little monster. The Champion framer, GT500, and my XS hardtail were sold to start my shop and keep it open it's first year. It is said that they come and go but nothing ever compares to that first kiss. More than any I regret most loosing my 1983 Husqvarna 250. That thing made me a man. 6 gears. Twin shocks with 3 feet of travel, and a spark plug that hid beneath an expansion chamber that changed sides of the bike at least 4 times. If I still had that machine I think I could conquer the galaxy. Or at least the modern vintage MX class.

Pressure

What I am talking about is the pressure we feel. The constraints, the shackles, the laws against nature we deal with. Where does this pressure come from and how did it develop? Are the cosmos coming in on us? Is there some deep unknown telepathic energy telling us to live our life with the most fulfillment or else perish namelessly amongst so many others? Perhaps we are just surviving and thriving as the dominant species. Performing as nature has programed. All I know is that the very split instant the green flag starts to move there is a total release of pressure. A dry ice bomb completely discharging all pressure. It is no more what was once potential energy is suddenly all at once released. Happy place. The checkers pass and normal breathing comes back. The brain starts to resume its normal thinking as the adrenaline diminishes. The pressure begins to build.

Sunny now that it is monday

I got to ride practice before the race weekend was cancelled. My three year old rock hard rain tires probably were not up to racing any way. It was a fun six laps though. The thing about the rain is not the traction or lack of it. It is the lack of visibility. Not the track so much but the other riders. When you ride around others you are always making note of what they are doing. Are they braking early. Are they going to leave me room to get around them. What is their body position saying. is the wrist bent. the elbow down. It is very hard to see the body language when the visor is shit.

It aint the years boy, it's the miles

If you took all the bashing, the smashing, and the crashing then you would probably look the way I do. -Chris Ledoux I don't race much enduro these days but I still do enjoy a good flog on old Molly. What better place than my old western colorado stomping grounds. The adobes. A lunar landscape lacking vegetation. Hardened sand dunes divided by rock littered ditches and back braking g-outs. For some reason I ride fast in this shit. And I like it. Especially the fast part. Saturday was the kids race followed by the hairscramble team race. Young Jake Miner raced his first off road race on the same 1986 XR80 that I raced my first off road race on. He got 2nd place. Lord Mick and I teamed up for the team race. I got the jump on the first corner. The local hotshot cut the 2nd corner and we went off into the desert side by side in a kamakazi roulete of macho throttle jockeying. He finally got scared and backed off. I led the rest of the first lap before handing it over to Mick who alternated laps with me until I took the checkered flag. It felt neat. All warm and fuzzy inside. Nice riding Mick. You old sack of dog shit. Your cool. Sunday was a 70 mile endure with 6 special tests. I gave it my best. Lots of dust and one pecker head who thought I had to "earn" passing him every fucking time I made up the minute on him. The fucking twat cost me some time. Ahhhh, any hoo, goosfrabahhhhh. I ended up tied for the over all. After breaking the tie with seconds over minutes I ended up third. 14 seconds behind 2nd place and 37 seconds from 1st place, the local hot shot

. Peace, Grease, and old bull riding country music.

Einhorn is Finkel

Fuck yo couch

0415 30+ Heat 1

Back to Bangin Bars

Battling it out with Mike who I went to Del Mar with.

It was a lot of fun to get back to flattracking last Saturday night. Had a good win in my Vintage heat but had to lay down my 450 in the 30+ heat while challenging for the lead. But everybody said it was a grace-full crash. Is laying it down a crash? I think it is only a crash if your hands come off the bars or your hands come off your arms or your bars come off your bike... any hoo, I led the entire vintage main.. well not the last few yards, I got nipped at the finish. That allowed some color-full self commentary inside of my helmet. Its good to feel alive and know those feelings. They are what i believe push us to achieve greatness. In the 30+ class I had a back row start which left me with the problem of passing nearly every one in the first turn. I nearly lost it out in the marbles but rode extra hard and sideways the entire race ended up 3rd, should have had 2nd but I couldn't control my heavy throttle hand. I laid down some nice full corner rubber arcs and had that pink and purple bitch on the lock speedway style. Not the most fast way to get around but I sure did have fun.

Shit in the shop saturday morning

wont you be my neighbor

GUY MARTIN vs MICHAEL DUNLOP @ 200mph! PURE ADRENALIN! On-Bike Lap! Isle...

Seven celly telly pics. Spring time is super time

The last round of Del Mar was a shit ton of fun. Mike Ranum asked if I wanted to go a few weeks ago. He offered to drive his 1972 van the 20+ hour drive. "Sure, why not" I said. Never mind the fact that I have no money or that the van has never been on a voyage more than 100 miles from town since Mike rescued it from the weeds last summer. Sometimes in order to get a grip on life you must let go of it all, load up the van, and just have a little confidence in good times. The van gave us no issue on the drive down and we got there early enough friday to partake in impromptu practice with the sponsors; Rholand 'fancy pants' Sands and the always fun time Dues crew. The track was wet and slick and I could not even crack the throttle on my hot rod twin. The bare tire ice racing skills of the Ranum Bros (Phil caught an airplane ride with Ranum Sr.) were obvious as the effortlessly rode circles around every one else, including Roland who was going pretty fast on a bunch of crazy twin cylinder, hardtailed and street legaled contraptions. Saturday's racing was pretty good. I realized that Dimitri on a proper flattrack bike is a forced to be rekoned with. The Frenchman was flying! Bobbles, full bar lock high side tank slap to hooking rear tire rocket launching, super style slides, and leather fringed jacket. Scary fast!! Sunday I started to get my shit together on the sandy cushion track. In my last main I got a good start and came out of turn two in first place on lap two I was very relieved to see my buddy Dimitri picking up his bike. I was very worried about him being behind me. Then I realized that I was going to lap him and that would not leave me in any less danger. Thankfully he got going quick as ever and I was able to follow him to the checkers. I took a victory lap with the flag and stood the XS up in what felt like a wheelie only seen on the streets of Baltimore. I was stoked to get the win in the vintage 400cc+ class. I also took two 2nd place finishes behind Dimitri in the Vintage twins class. We celebrated in the pits until we were the last to leave. Shit, Van no start. A few hours, beers, and a beer box intake gasket and some rounded off spark plugs later and we found the culprit to be a cracked distributor cap. A few days later after some casino food fart induced out door sleeping we made it back home. Van and all.

When reindeers attack! BBDH Reindeer Tackle 2012

Amazing things are in store for this year's race to the clouds!!!

Sup peoples

Boner machine

definitely  yeah. yeah. definitely.

6 days with out a shower

The weather in Colorado this winter has been a bit manic. Many days of 70 degree sunshiny bike ride inducing mid winter confusion.
 The shop has stayed busy and before you say it; Yes, that is great. ..As long as you work to work and work and work and live to work and then work more. I like to live some when I can. So, despite being more busy than the village drunk at a free wine tasting festival, I decided to take a trip to the good old south west for some off road desert race put on by the Nitro Circus Thrillbilly redneck mormon motorheads at a casino in Mesquite Nevada.
I left early last Wednesday to stay over in Moab for a while and hang out with my old camper dwelling "I even have running water" of a beloved Dad. My Pops is not a conventional part of modern society. I value his insight and have learned much from him. Thursday's lesson was how to build bicycle wheels. I build motorcycle wheels  all the time and thought it would be similar. It was not. It took us the entire day. Luckily, as I mentioned I enjoy spending time with my Pop and his out door living room is a scenic and nice place to soak up some winter sunshine. As the sun sank I pulled out of camp/casa Newbold and met Lord Mick, His honey Hannah and Wallace the ever intoxicated philosopher of filth, substance abuse and vulgarity.  I transferred my bike and gear into the scary van and left my trusty old White Lightning alone, along the side of I-70 in the middle of the Utah desert. Whiskey, comradeship of  the best and weird smoking devices brought us through the night to our race destination. What the fuck is up with smoking from the electronic dildo things? What the fuck! I understand the world is becoming more eco friendly and that is fine with me but I still want my whiskey to taste like whiskey and my smoke, whatever kind it may be should never taste like cotton candy!
Any hoo, where the hell was I in this ramble of race tales.. Yeah, Friday morning. Practice session was at 10:30 am. I was glad no earlier. I have not considered my self an off road racer for some time but I have been riding the mx tracks this winter in training prep for Pikes Peak. One of the things about off road that burned me out was the evolution of the enduro X tractor tire, mud pit, boulder piles of matrixed logs that are as smooth and rythmic as electronic dub tripping techno dance music. (sorry if that is you cup of tea) LONG LIVE ROCK!!  Degresion... oh, I went over the bars big as shit after sticking my front wheel into a tractor tire blown out ass hole. Panic rev half front flip ending with my steed hammering me down with the force of a mike tyson bitch slap. I dont remember what else happened friday but on saturday I finished 4th in both motos behind the likes of Mike Brown, Destry Abbott and Rory Sullivan. So not being a factory pro I fucking won. Battling pros (getting passed and blasted like a dalmation drinking from a fire hose) will always be one of my favorite things ever. I tried to make love to my steering stabilizer with my chin resulting in heavy bleeding of the face. Wallace dislocated his shoulder. Hannah got mooshine bit before the sun went down and Mick won the back flip contest on a bicycle. I was the only ass hole in the pits that had no quarter million quid motorhome, van, or even a tent and my star lit luck gave up on me sunday morning as winter came back and I awoke feeling like a blown up bottle of pickles somebody left in the freezer mistaking for otter pops. Back to my van and then back to my Pop's for one more night of sleeping in below freezing weather. After five nights of it I actually started to not mind the cold toes, frozen snot in my beard and the black widows in my boots. actually the little scorpions didn't even scare me. As long as it is not scampering out form under some stupid man made enduro X tractor tire pile! 

Who the hell needs leg room with companions like these

Enduro X is so fun!!!

Says it all

My father; Mike the Bike

Two guitars, Two bikes, and one filthy hippy. With a van; You can. Sometimes two vans.

Roses are red. This bike used to be blue.

Bandit wheel, 520 drive train, chopped down the silencer, farm boy fabricated some linkage dog bones, wire harness, cam swap, busa pistons, oh and some new grips! Me want to go to the track!