Since relocating into our new digs, we've questioned every move, every nail driven and dollar spent. It's a big project and the budgeted cash is slipping out the door, under the rug and through the rusting shutters, quick. As Laughlin approached we considered our fleeting options. We could get gouged by Dalcon promoters and hotels that generally run less than $30 a night. But fuck, we didn't do the winter dealer circuit in Cincy and Indy. We missed Daytona Bike week and there weren't any plans for Myrtle Beach, as Frank Kaisler pointed out to me. I needed to feel the wind in my face and see the bros.
On the otherhand we recently grappled with a major move. We repaired plumbing, painted rooms, rewired, fix the shop's 20-foot industrial roll-up door, filled the dipsty dumpster a dozen times and lift the same goddamn box a half dozen times. We'd busted our butts and the lovely Layla kept me fed throughout the project. She deserved a well-earned break. We popped for a room at nearly $200 a night, loaded the 2003 Road King and serviced the beast for the ride.
I checked all the fluids, remembering to lean it on the kickstand for engine oil check, while warm, popped it upright for the tranny fluid and primary inspection. I checked the clutch cable, and tire pressure. The front tire has a tendency to creep down to about 10 pounds of pressure over six months. I pumped it to 20 pounds and rode it to an auto parts. I grabbed a can of fix-o-flat and pumped the Avon up to 40 pounds then rode it for ten miles. It was golden.
I don't know about your household, but as the run deadline neared the home organization faltered, and threatened to implode. Kids lose it, security concerns surface, contractors panic, bills become due and weather threatens. When a man's gotta ride, he's gotta ride so Thrusday morning the hammer fell at 5:30 and we rolled into the dwindling night, attempting to escape Los Angeles squallor for the desert. The city spreads like locust across the state farther year after year.
With a full tank of gas we peeled through 121 miles before stopping for breakfast somewhere in Beaumont after slicing out of the harbor onto the 710 to the 91, to the 60 that ducks into the 210 then merges with the Interstate 10. The King ran like a champ. We packed the two leather clad saddlebags, two crashbar bags and bungied a Bandit's Bedroll to the lowered sissybar. It cut through town like a bullet through butter. With our low/mid range mods it pulled when I needed the power and loved 85-95 mph for cruising. Brisk weather filled the over-cast morning, but we were both comfortable and slice through 120 miles with ease. I would have kept rolling except I was uncertain of our direction. I'm like Bonneville salt flat racer once I pull onto a freeway. I'll trim off a 100 miles in the wrong direction just so I don't have to stop and look at a map.
I pumped 3.85 Gallons into the fatbobs and calculated the 131 miles on the clock. That worked out to be 34 miles to the gallon which wasn't bad for the two-up loaded King. We rolled another 132.6 miles to Marengo Valley just outside Yucca Valley. The plan was a new route passed Bob T's home, through 29 Palms to highway 95. Our homely Denny's breakfast waitress, with the broad smile, reported that valley winds were gusting to 50 mph in the desert and she wasn't wrong. Still I left the freeway for the backroads. But we decided not to turn north in the vast Mojave desert, east of the Turtle mountains at Vidal Junction and head deeper into the sandblasted desert. We stopped there at the head-shop/gas stop and refueled, 3.9 gallons.
The wind forced us to lean hard against the sandy wave and duck as truckers passed. We prayed for a turn in the road that aimed the wind at our backs. I ate a Payday candy bar, we drank water and considered peeling out of a layer of warm clothing. I said hello to some of the riders, dropped the King into gear and we moved out, but not on 95 north. We set our sites on Highway 62 east to the Colorado River and Parker Dam. I snapped through the gears and leaned hard against the wind as we rolled away from Vidal and into the sites of a CHP radar unit heading west. I no more than spotted the unit as I rounded the bend than his lights and siren flared. I knew it was me and the blacked out King in his sites. He pulled a quick U-turn behind me and stopped as Layla dismounted.
I figured that I've blown through so many laws, there's no reason to give the poor bastard shit when I finally get busted. I treated him with respect and he wrote the ticket for 75 in a 65. I bowed like one spent warrior to another and we went our separate ways. The wind whistled hard against the King perched on its sidestand, almost blowing it into the desert sand. As an 18 wheeler barreled past the gust of wind off the truck sucked the detachable windshield off the glide and tossed it to the pavement. Layla hurried in the emergency lane to retrieve the lowered windshield before another semi crushed it into the melting asphalt or kick it into the cactus beside the road, but she stood back from the roadway as I replaced and held the windshield in place. The officer took off west and we peeled out toward the east, while I did my best to monitor my speed. Tough task. On the way home I tried the cruise control for the first time, after another Highway Patrolman reminded me that I was rolling over 80 through his onboard loudspeaker.
Heading east Highway 62 encountered another highway 95 that snaked along the river. It's a comfortable highway that tracks the oasis of green. We rode over the dam then turned north and snaked our way into Lake Havasu. There's a mystery that befalls the Green Rattlesnake highway that dissapears into the sand dunes and rears it's ugly head in various locations. If a map was plastered to my tanks perhaps I would have caught the beast and held it straight into Bullhead City, Arizona. Arizona Highway 95 parallels the Mojave 95 in the desert. In Havasu it meanders northeast away from where the river reaches Topock. I'm sure someone will read this and inform me of my dipshit ways. Topock is a good 20 miles out of the way.
Here's where the mysterious snake highway becomes an illusive track in the blowing sand. We rolled onto the 40 heading west toward Los Angeles. You can imagine our dismay, after we screamed through 300 miles and had no intention of heading west again. I couldn't figure out what the hell I was doing until we rolled into Needles in a hunt for the 95 North, which I could have taken to the 163 then west into Laughlin. Now get this. In the crossroads town of needles where the snake coiled and hid under a rock there's three ways to find Laughlin. You can slither across the river into Arizona and ride the mysterious connection of 95 north through Bullhead then over the Colorado below the Davis Dam into the home of Laughlin Casinos. Or we could take the California side Highway 95 and finally there's a river road that skirts the west side of the river in California into Nevada and into Laughlin.
I've ridden to Laughlin several times, but was never this confused. That's what I get to trying an alternative trail. I'd never rolled into town from the south. Once I peeled through Needles, I recognized a long over-used exit, a frequent gas-stop and the river road out of town. The final leg of the journey. We gassed up, 3.2 gallons at 101.8 miles for 31.8 mpg.
As we jammed along the river passed slow packs of bikes, RVs, trucks and biker trailers the two-wheeled crowd of hungry bikers grew all around us as we crossed the jammin' town and found the Edgewater hotel on the river. I cut through 385 miles. The heat was picking up as the clock struck 3:30 in the afternoon. Less the stops, the ticket, breakfast and lunch of two hours, we made approximately 48 miles per hour. It was time for whiskey, women and gambling.
We had a blast hanging with the crowd until Saturday at noon when we gassed up and hit the road. Below you'll read a general Laughlin report and the best Bikes and Babes from the astute Frank Kaisler. Billy Lane was arrested for running out of gas on Cantina Row and hauled to Vegas for booking. Big Dog is about to Celebrate their 10th Anniversary, and we found out that Jesse James was dating Sandra Bullock, so we peeled out of town. A little old sunburnt broad slipped us this hot shortcut out of town.
We hit 163 for 19 miles to the dreaded 95 south toward needles for 15 miles across railroad tracks in the middle of nowhere and caught Goffs road for 12 miles to I-40 where we pulled in and discovered gas prices that were over the moon. We didn't stop, but hit it 100 more miles into Barstow. From the 40 we leaned on the 15 to the 60 Pomona freeway, to the 57 heading toward the coast, then the 91 Artesia freeway, then it jammed up so we slipped onto the 22 to the 405 and the 710 to Anahiem, the West Coast Choppers offramp, and skidded into home base.
It totaled 299 miles to the LA county line, 313.3 miles to our door and the King slipped through the warm Southern California traffic with oil temps reaching 226 degrees.
I adjusted to cruise control and it saved my ass from another ticket. There you have it. Laughlin 2004 in a bucket full of quarters. Hope you had a good time.
Ride Forever,
–Bandit
Bandit's Bike Pick Of Laughlin 2004
Now, If I can only find the card belonging to the business behind this cool chop. There were hundreds of sharp scooters in Laughlin, but this one knocked me out. The unique styling, wild design, classic lines and construction stopped us dead in our tracks. Actually they had a couple of bikes on display.
Ah, I found Robert “Bobby” Blands Prowler card and caught him on his cell. This classic was created by Gard Hollinger of LA County Chop Rods in the old Indian of Los Angeles building across from Bartels' H-D in Marina Del Rey. Suppose they have Indian drive trains around, might as well put them to use. Sorta adds to the nostalgic styling.
I spoke to Gard, who built the mono-shock springer front end, the scissor sprung seat and the motified Flanders flat track bars. He also fabricated the pipes and the gas tanks.
Since they took over the Indian Dealership they've used several Indian engines including this PP 100. “I like the unique styling,” Gard said.
Gard is hoping to have the springer bike completed for the LA Calendar show in June in Long Beach, California. I look forward to witnessing his talents emerge in the industry. Here's the shop phone: (310) 822-4220.
By Sunday morning, police had arrested 118 people — including nine felony arrests — most on alcohol-related charges, traffic violations and other disturbances, police said.
Metro Police spokesman Sgt. Rick Barela said the number of arrests was low considering an estimated 60,000 people attended the event.
The 320 officers working the event had their hands full at times, Barela said.
Between Wednesday and Sunday, a total of 18 motorcycles were stolen, with 10 of them recovered.
“Mainly, there were a lot of disturbance-related things, misdemeanor batteries, DUIs, domestic batteries and that kind of thing,” he said. “Not too many bikes stolen, most recovered.”
Waitresses, bartenders and cocktail servers at the Flamingo sported T-shirts designed by the Bad Pig company in celebration of the River Run.
“Sales have been really great,” said Brian Olea, president and owner of Bad Pig. “The whole event has been great to us.”
Olea, who has attended the event each year since 1999, said his only complaint was that the police were “harassing people for ridiculous things.”
“I've heard a lot of complaints about the police this year,” he said. “They've been harassing people over petty things like pulling them over for not wearing their clear glasses at night and things like that.”
Olea said it is important to have a police presence, but “ridiculous” for security to “get on people for the petty stuff.”
“It's very important for the police to have a very visible presence,” he said. “And they did a good job with that. But they need to stop harassing people because it's driving them away.”
By Heather Rawlyk
LAS VEGAS SUN
Hang on for Frank's Bikes And Babe of Laughlin.
Hey, Bandit. Here's the stuff from Laughlin . . . better late than never.And just as you requested, the focus was on chicks and bikes, and there wasplenty of both to satisfy even you. Wait a minute, you were there, Iremember seeing you, or someone dressed like you. You probably were layingup in the bridal suite, eating room service with the air conditioner set ondeep freeze, admiring your newly acquired riding award.
For those of us who ventured farther than the ice machine on our hotelfloor, Laughlin was great; plenty of eye candy and bikes to check out, allunder sunny skies and warm temperatures.
The main buzz in town was theescalating room prices and the number of TV camera crews roaming the streetsand vendor lots. The Discovery Channel had two or three crews operating mostof the time, with one crew dedicated to the Bike Build Off, which was underway at a private shop across the mighty Colorado River in Arizona.
Thepremise of the Bike Build Off was to gather all 10 participants in one shopand have them collectively build one custom bike in seventy-two hours. Thecompleted bike was then to be unveiled at the Golden Nugget casino onSaturday night where the Discovery Channel had booth space for each of the10 builders bikes from this year's shows. During the event, the public wasurged to vote for their favorite bike from this year's series of shows. Thewinner of the public voting was announced after the unveiling. The Laughlin BikeBuild Off is going to air in June.
Bikes:
This clean-lookin' Softail was found lurking around theSconcy Road booth in the Hilton vendor lot, Aaron Holland, the bikes ownerand one of the Sconcy Road technicians. The bike features countless handmadeparts, pieces, and more than it's fair share of skulls. The Sconcy Road shopis in Amarillo, Texas, and the whole bunch make Laughlin one of their annualpilgrimages.
There's something about red Panheads that just grabs youreye. This prime example was at the custom bike show Saturday morning, theshow is held in the parking lot across the street from the Golden NuggetCasino. A stock wishbone frame, upswept fishtails, ape hangers along withmechanical brakes and red paint, set off by just the right amount of chrome,make us dream of bikes gone by.
Chopped BSA's aren't found on every street corner like theyonce were and this is an excellent example of a sixties era model. The bikehas all the right pieces, from the extended Harley-Davidson springer,weld-on hardtail, bird shooter pipes, coffin tank, king-and-queen seat and atriangle headlight.
The Detroit Brothers brought this Shovelhead to Laughlin andit was turning heads the entire weekend. There are many handmade parts onthis bike, like the foot controls and exhaust pipes finished off in red, butwhat we really liked was their use of a Harley-Davidson Rapido gas tankwith chrome tubular rear mounts. Check out the curved rear brake anchor rod.
Performance Machine displayed this trick little bobber-styleSoftail, with the balanced engine called El Borracho, which is currently on thecover of Hot Rod Bikes. There's a host of trick parts that you really haveto get down on your knees to find-like the master cylinder for thefoot-clutch, jockey-shift that's mounted behind the primary drive. Thewheels are something else–if not a departure from the usual offering fromPM, the combination of polish-and-paint add a completely new dimension tothe bike.
The Custom Cycle Engineering booth in theRiverside vendor lot had an awesome display of Randy Smith bikes. The firsttwo photos are Randy's Magnum 45 that features a Sportster top end, ballbearings throughout the lower end, aluminum oil tank from theHarley-Davidson race department, four-shoe front brake and a small Wasselpeanut tank. This bike is being restored with the help of Pat Leahy in LongBeach, California. The third photo is of Randy's Bonneville K model thatfeature wheels he cast himself. Both bikes have a rich history.
We spotted this Sportster at a gas stop just outside ofLaughlin and had to do a double take to make sure that it was, in fact, aSportster. The bike was set-up for some serious touring with the hardsaddlebags, tour pak, 16-inch whitewalls (front and rear) and a completewide glide front end.
At the Zero Engineering booth at the Riverside vendorarea, we came across the first Zero bike built in the United States. ZeroEngineering's main shop is across the ocean in Japan, but they've recentlyopened a shop near Vegas. This Panhead is the first bike to roll out of theU.S. location. The frame is a work-of-art in it self with intricate metalsculpting, but check out the fender braces and taillight.
Parked in the Prowler transmission booth at the Hilton vendorarea, was this trick Indian-powered project bike from LA County Choprods inMarina del Rey, California. The front end is something Gard Hollinger (theshop owner) is developing and it's part springer and part handmade-thebeehive oil filter is a reproduction and the Moon oil tank is mountedlengthwise under the seat. This bike caught a lot of people by surprise asthey walked past, including Bandit, who made it his bike pick of the River Run.
We never caught up to this bike, but we saw it blast past afew times and every time it sounded crisp. The Shovelhead engine andfour-speed transmission in a swingarm frame, along with the short-shockslooked 'right'. Up front is a dual disc front end and apes, round oiltank, late-model rear brake caliper and fat bob tanks-all add to thisrunning project.
Kendall Johnson's Discovery bike is a blend of old and newstyles. We caught this shot of Kendall rolling into the Golden Nugget vendorarea Saturday morning, as all of the Discovery bikes and their owners rolledtogether down Casino Drive, while being filmed for the final episode of thisyear's Bike Build Off series. Check out the headlights mounted on eitherside of the fuel tank.
Best Regards,
Frank Kaisler
