Two Wheeled Tales

Our wheels are once more winding their way through the meandering two lane roads of our host state. The scenery is of forest, small coal towns and operations, then more forest, as we are now passing through Monongahela National Forest. There are more twists in the road here than at a Chubby Checker concert. I’ve […]

If you find yourself in Wyoming with a day or two to spare here is a great motorcycle destination. The Bighorn Mountains are located in the northern part of central Wyoming and southern Montana halfway between the Black Hills and Yellowstone Park. My wife and I began our ride in the town of Buffalo, which

The winner of the Antique Motorcycle Club of America's “Free Harley Give Away Contest” is 18 year old Ryan Mackey from Willoughby Ohio. Ryan was one of the 90, 18-to-25-year-olds who wrote an essay for the contest, sponsored by Bikernet.com and the AMCA, which ran for October 1st 2008 through August 15th 2009. The prize

I decided I needed a long ride, so I jumped on the bike and headed out to get a few more stamps for my Motorcycle Grand Tour of Virginia passport. The goal of the tour is to visit 58 stops all around Virginia. Prior to this ride, I had 47 of the stops covered and

I don’t know if you have had an inclination to hop on your scoot and ride for 1000 miles in 24 hours, but there are people out there who believe it's a terrific way to spend time. They even have a certificate and patch for you if you meet the challenge. They call themselves the

I never finished the story about my ride back from Alabama in August. Hell, since then, I made another ride down and back in February. That ride was supposed to include a few days in Daytona for Bike Week and add to my portfolio of beer tub girl pictures, but I can get to my

RFR story I rode the FLH to work yesterday & the took the Little Red Rigid today, got paid to hang out with half nekked sexy girls all day then took the hour + extra long ride home from the club tonight (14 miles). Here are a few images from Ike. This is the duck

This was a trip I planned for years, and this year, it looked as though it was finally gonna happen. We recently moved to a new town, and the wife received time off, so I could fly her south into Mexico, and I was going to ride, and meet her. No big deal, right? She

Gotta find the best Combo in the South!I was sitting in the airport in Detroit waiting to catch my flight back to northern Virginia and my attention was on The Weather Channel. It had nothing to do with weather in Detroit or Washington, DC. My focus was on tropical storm Fay. I was planning to

Things happen in the past that always come back to haunt you at some point, some good and some bad. Roebling Road Raceway in Savannah, Georgia is one of those. My first time at the track in 1990 was on a brand new Yamaha FZR400 with a freshly earned expert license. Eager to get the

Campboy hasn’t been the same since our cross-country ride in ’97. In fact, I haven’t been quite the same, either. But Campboy is much worse than I am . . . at least in my opinion. Campboy started a bike project following Laughlin this year that he thought would solve his problems, at least with

If you're moving out of California, the first location pick usually isn't Utah, but it was mine. After almost 25 years, I'm still glad I did. As far as I can tell, Utah is not a hot bed for motorcycle activity, except for the FIM Super Bike series which is here this weekend. (It just

There were too many boxes to pack on the bike so Sullivan hauled his kids' Christmas gifts to the UPS office in his boss's van. A worn out but sympathetic clerk took his money, reminding him that the holiday was only two days off and there was no way the kids would get the presents

“If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him.”–Voltaire (1694 – 1778)When I first took to the road, I only desired to experience firsthand what was known exclusively to the earliest of worldly explorers. Discovering not just a new place, but living a new life, a new culture, a new fuck under

The smell of Wild Turkey mixed with the spicy boiling Top Ramen scent on Iron Buffalo’s single apartment stove. A loner, he worked for Custom Chrome, lifted weights and tinkered with his only major possession: a hot rod chopper. He sipped the drink as he stirred the vegetables and steak-chunks and thought about his recent

“Okay, beam me up Scotty.” Tinker put down the phone and stepped into the pentagram.Eight hours behind and nearly five thousand miles away in Vancouver, Henry flicked aside long grey hair, wiped his granny glasses, and checked an identical ‘gram on the floor for the umpteenth time. He returned the detailed instructions to the envelope

The teardrop tank was full. So was my wallet. My coal black chopper burned rubber and blended into the asphalt stretching below me and the dark sky above. The milestones popped out every other minute and so did stars from behind clouds. Sturgis conquered I was off to see Sofie at the town beyond the

As he headed home in the small hours with the baffles closed on Poke’s open duals and Bonzo snoring snug as a dormouse inside his jacket, Tinker heard the screams. He traced them to a bus stop where a trail of spilt handbag crap led to the darkened mouth of an alley.Coasting up, his headlight

“Some geezer wanting to unload an old Indian,” the snout had said over his free beer. “Got the address right here if you see me right.”That had lured Tinker into one of those concrete concentration camps laughingly called ‘estates’. Nobody with any sense went there, nobody with any choice. Dumps for the chumps and gutters

The cemetery, the morning we brought poor dead Mokes to it, was quiet. Very quiet. The Spring sun in the blue sky was quiet. The air was quiet. The birds were quiet. And the small group of mourners standing over by a gravesite in silent prayer, they were quiet too. We approached the group with

Tinker saw a bike stalled at the side of the country road and pulled over. It’s what you do, hurry or no.“You okay?’ The question was superfluous. A gormless spottie stood irresolutely beside his neglected-looking Japanese one-lunger. “Crapped out on me, didn’t it. Now the pig won’t even start.” Spots lit another fag; there were

Tinker stood in the tiny cubicle and relaxed. His reflection finally appeared in the mirror and he combed the tangles out of his silvered black hair , tying it back in an inconspicuous queue. His full beard had been trimmed, even worn a clean shirt and tie. Quick check of the wrist watch, deep breath–Show

It was a small house, even had a chimney, cost me $35. I wanted to kick it's resident's ass. Bruno, the name sure sounds tough, but any wimp could have him running for cover. That's my German shepherd pet, and he was in his single room home hiding his face in his fairly strong paws.