The more I study shocks, the less I know. I find the entire notion of ride control daunting. For instance, if you weigh 200 pounds and you design the perfect shock to handle running over a 2-by-4 at 30 mph, will it work at 50 mph, and what if you gain weight?

I had a recent discussion with some riders, and a shock manufacturer in Cincinnati at the V-Twin Expo. The quality of stock shocks is dismal. Most of us would never mess with our shocks unless we wanted to lower or raise a bike. Yet some factory bike shocks wear out in less than a year of average riding.

So, what the hell does it mean? After discussing this with Jeremiah Soto, and his brother James, and then Sean at Progressive suspension a much clearer performance picture emerged. And maybe this issue has been at the center of my Mudflap Girl FXR trials.

First, there is a lot more to suspension issues than ride comfort. Handling, especially with rubber-mounted and touring models, is critically linked to suspension. For instance, if a new rider buys a bike and it handles so-so in the beginning and gets progressively worse, how will these elements factor into his riding experience? Maybe he’ll quit riding altogether, or worse, maybe he will find himself in a dangerous situation or an accident.

Both James and Jeremiah told stories of how their bikes handled initially and how they immensely improved with enhanced suspension components, mostly from Progressive Suspension. Both of these riders switched out their front ends with Progressive springs and preload systems. Then they replaced their rear shocks, in most cases with Progressive shocks.

I’ll reiterate the issue I faced at the V-Twin show. I was told by a shock manufacturer, Geoff of Ikon shocks in Australia, about the substandard shocks on many new bikes from the manufacturer, which only last maybe five months before they start to fail.

“It’s all about the rider taking an active role in his motorcycle handling package. He needs to understand how he wants to ride and how it impacts suspension. He needs to know his size and weight, whether he plans to pack a partner, and lots of luggage, etc.”

Suddenly, suspension became a much more critical issue. Then recently after a 5-Ball Racing™Apparel photo shoot, I noticed how close my rear tire rode to my fender. I had next to no shock travel. I lowered the bike for that cool look, but destroyed handling and put the drive chain dangerously close to my oil bag.

By just adding one inch to my shock height, I doubled my travel, relieved the stress on my oil bag and improved handling seriously. I started to work with Progressive Suspension’s David Zemla. I couldn’t just add longer springs to my existing shock, which would have been a dream, but not a possibility.

Since the master builder at Paul Cavallo, Spitfire Motorcycles, extended my swingarm by an inch for my lanky form, it changed the shock dynamics and we had to run much stronger springs. Fortunately, David was willing to work with us on a custom set of shocks.

Replacing shocks can be simple, but it takes planning and is much more critical than you think. I will bounce between my notions and the Progressive Suspension instructions, and see if I miss anything. These shocks are designed to operate with the shock shaft up. Damage to the shocks may occur if fitted with shock shaft in the down position. I got that one right, amazing.

Progressive supplies a number of bushings and sleeves. I positioned the shocks several times to ensure they were perpendicular to the deck and would not touch the upper frame rails.

I needed to check shock travel, since in the past I was forced to run travel limiters to prevent the fender from smacking the tire. Progressive has travel limiter kits available.

I used a JIMS tool to remove the shock cap and spring, then installed the shock and lowered the bike until the shock bumper contacted the shock body. In this case, I had almost ¾ of an inch of clearance, so I was good to go.

Progressive recommends not using lowering blocks, and the bike must be on a centerstand or a jack before messing with the shocks. They also advised making sure proper bushings/sleeves are installed in the shocks. That generally applies to custom applications over using stock shock shaft studs, over bolts. Progressive supplies a set of various sleeves and spacers for fitment ease.

Here’s how they explained the tire/fender clearance adjustment: Before installing your new Progressive shocks, you need to check the tire-to-fender clearance, making sure that the tire does not come in contact with the fender. If the rear fender or tire has been changed to anything other than stock, a travel limiter may be required.

On some models with side bags or luggage, removal of the top cover may be required to eliminate any interference. Due to clearance on some belt drive models, it is necessary to check clearances around the lower chrome cover (chrome series shocks only.) Install shock assemblies onto the motorcycle and tighten mounting bolts/to proper torque. Offset lower eye may be rotated in or out to gain clearance for the lower cover; if this does not work, removal of the lower cover my be necessary.

They suggest a test ride next and if excessive bottoming occurs, to adjust the shock preload cam to the next setting and test ride it again.

To adjust the spring preload, use the wrench supplied. Grab the cover and engage the wrench. Also supplied is a packet of cam lube to ease adjustment. It can be used to lube the preload cam to ease adjustment. Just apply it to the sliding surface. Generally, the shocks come set on the lowest setting.

There you have it. You may now pay more attention to your handling and suspension. There are solutions from several companies and you can improve your ride, or make it fit your needs and maybe save you life in the process. I’ve been dancing with the devil by the pale moonlight too long. Plus the El Diablo Run is calling me.

Mama Tried is an indoor motorcycle invitational, showcasing the most honest, home-built and unusual bikes in the Midwest.

I managed to spend about three hours at the 2nd Mama Tried show in Milwaukee today.

There were 50 people waiting in the cold for the doors to open at 10 a.m., and by early afternoon it was jam-packed. A new, larger venue had some windows that spilled natural light on some of the bikes.

This show features 50+ motorcycles built by fabricators of all stripes- whether it be a flat-tracker, hill climber, chopper or bar hopper, Mama Tried was founded to bring together the many worlds of motorcycles, builders, fans and riders that exist throughout the heartland and beyond. Keeping the stoke going all winter long.

THE 2015 MAMA TRIED BUILDERS

AJ Dusek, Chicago, IL
Al Bloom, Schaumburg, IL
Alan Stulberg, Revival, Austin, TX
Andy Fenwick, Metro Motors, Neenah, WI
Art Farley, Lake Chelsea, MI
Atomic Customs, Trent Schara, Edgewood, NM
Bare Knuckle Choppers, Paul Wideman, Hawk Point, MO
Pat Hanson, BBC, West Bend, WI
Ben Boyle, Benderwerks, Atlanta, CA
Ben Marx, Milwaukee, WI

A great variety of motorcycles at this invitation-only event. It was hard to get a good bike shot without four people standing in the background, so I focused on interesting details.

–Charles Plueddeman
“A Good Man to Have Along”
Oshkosh, Wis.

Fred “Krugger” Bertrand is not a new player in the world of international motorcycle builders. At the age of five he had his first motorcycle and started racing at seven. At nineteen he ended his racing carrier and then started an apprenticeship in coach building. This included sheet metal repair, metal shaping, and painting. After completing this program, in two years, he then went on to work in Renault – Clio cup. In 2000 his job at Renault came to a close and Fred turned his attention to family and car restoration. With the support of his pals he opened his transformation workshop and since then he has been unstoppable. With winning over thirty awards and more than fifty articles written about his work, he has shown the world his abilities to produce some of the most innovative motorcycles anywhere.

Bikernet:
Fred, thanks for taking sometime out of your busy schedule to visit with us here at Bikernet. We are impressed with your work and your accomplishments. Since you opened your shop you have been winning at shows around the world. Taking the “World Champion of custom bike building” this year after placing for 5 years must be a crowning event for you. How did you feel after that accomplishment?

Fred:
I’m happy. Mainly because, as usual, I try to push the limit…. This bike (NURBs “ Non-Uniform Rational B-spline” project) , BMW powered is a fully rideable bike with all the technological advance of the K1600! It’s great to win, but not only that, it is better to stay on the top. I have been to the competition three times, taking a third place, one fourth and two times World Champion. It is always good for promoting Krugger Motorcycles to stay in the spotlight and always with a new challenge every year.

Fred:

Fred:
Everything …. train, car, house, new technology! But I like to respect the past. I like Art Déco with its easy lines. It is easy to understand! I like the age when designers began to integrate aerodynamics in their designs! I like the ‘30s.

Fred:
The Custom world is a small world. A lot of impassioned guys, some with more business or some with less business! Small guys alone, like me or big business like Arlen Ness, for example! But all with the same passion! It’s always good to share our passion!

Fred:
Again…Supermoto bike…. like KTM 990 SMR for example and when I’m more quiet..my R62 BMW, my 450 Black Bomber, or my Vincent Rapide.

Fred:
In my planning I am looking ahead about three years. So I am always trying to push the limit, find new solutions and develop innovations and designs that are on the leading edge.

Fred:
I start a totally CRAZY four wheels project now…speak about it later…

Fall of 2013

The freedom of warm summer months, allowing easy movement throughout the continent, were almost gone. As the southbound highway led onward through the slight chill of fall and to the promise of milder southern climates, I thought of my destination…

A long time motorcyclist, B.B. St. Roman learned of my travels through a friend, seemed a fan of my writing, and contacted me. Last year, I took the opportunity to pay her a quick visit on the way to Daytona. It was then I’d learned of my new friend’s strange history. For 15 years of her youth B.B. worked as the sound person for a crew making documentaries around the world and for that time she’d seldom set foot back into the U.S.

Over the course this employment she spent nine months living completely off the grid with the primitive people who inhabit the Himalayan Mountains as the crew made documentary of their shaman. There were many other documentaries too, but I think it was those two years spent in the company of Mother Teresa that influenced B.B. most. She told me Mother Teresa was love in action. I found it interesting. B.B. also knows the Dalai Lama.

With no desire to settle down, B.B. had took her lovin’ where it came and, running in those circles anyway, had affairs with a handful of celebrities whose names we all know. When the documentary job ran its course, B.B. took employment as the road manager for Dr. John—a big name musician originally from New Orleans.

After 10 years more of world travel she finally bought a house and came to settle in the French Quarter of New Orleans. She’d soon married Pops—a Shovelhead rider and the man originally responsible for starting the Louisiana ABATE chapter.

Pops also orchestrated various local biker charity events and there’s now a public park dedicated to his name. Yet after only two years of marriage Pops had passed of Cancer.

From the very start of her life in New Orleans B.B. began to donate so much time at the 8th District Cop Shop in effort to help the city’s homeless population that the station ultimately invented a position for her. Nowadays, with the help of one woman, policies have changed throughout the city. New facilities have opened. Housing became available; and almost anything that has to do with people in need is channeled through one of her three cell phones. She’s one busy woman.

Having found B.B.’s story of great interest, I looked excitedly forward to the time I’d soon spend living in the French Quarter with her. Little did I suspect that Betsy and I would not leave for seven weeks…

The French Quarter is a grid of 200 year old buildings that act as walls along the narrow streets of this crowded neighborhood and B.B.’s little home sits on Burgundy St.—which is just two blocks north of Bourbon St. The place is 204 years old and a narrow gated pathway leads between her place and the one next door.

I was soon met there by a small eccentric white woman with long dreadlocks. After hugs and greetings, B.B. led me down the pathway and to the tiny enclosed courtyard behind her place. It was there that the home’s main entrance faced a smaller building. That structure had long ago served as kitchen to the main quarters, but is now a complete home she rents to an old friend. I eyed the yard with thoughts of where to put in camp amid this small area.

I soon began to settle in around the French Quarter.

Since I hale from a background of huge motorcycle rallies, the noisy allure of Bourbon St. didn’t really suck me into its vacuum. However, the city of New Orleans loves its street performers and offers them the use of Royal St. (one block south of Bourbon) where auto traffic is generally blocked off for this purpose.

There, amid the coffee places and other shops, I took great pleasure in these constant performances. Street performers range from one singer with a guitar to large acts easily rivaling any Broadway or television talent. Among them I made a few friends. Neko calls himself a “motorcycle magician” and rides from Washington State to work Royal St. every winter. I found his lot interesting and spent a good few afternoons jabbering with him at our favorite coffee shop.

The reputation and fame for the excessive fun New Orleans enjoys is well earned and if one finds himself bored, it’s only because he’s not yet gotten out of bed. Monday through Sunday the action is constant.

The bars never close and it’s legal to drink anywhere on the streets. Beyond the drinking scene there’s plenty of things happening as well. Of course the live music is endless but there’s also biker events, street fairs, festivals, parties, pot lucks, and parades. My god, New Orleans does love its parades. These range from convoys of fancy floats, marching bands, hordes of bicycles with loud ghetto-blaster music, to parades of people carrying or pushing dogs in shopping carts. I also noted that the N.O. cops rarely bother anyone.

B.B.’s own motorcycle had not run for three months. I fixed it in an hour. Often dragging B.B. away from the endless demands of her constant work with the underprivileged, we began to attend many events and make new friends too. Although her own bike now ran, our outings were made mostly two up and from the comfort of my full dress Electra Glide.

I’ve never known anybody who lives in such constant altruistic service to their fellow man, and I could not walk down any street with this woman without people coming up all starry eyed and saying, “B.B. you saved my life. I don’t know what I’d have done without your help.”

Many seemed happy just to stand in her aura for a few minutes. It was a strange experience to live in the presents of someone so closely akin to Mother Teresa—except B.B. is by no means a saint. The city’s people, rich and poor alike, exhibit great love for this small, dreadlock clad, white girl. The ragged people say they have her back (she’s often in the streets among them at hours ranging till 3:00 a.m.) and I’m sure no one could lay a hand on her without being attacked. The wealthy seem to share much the same sentiment.

One afternoon we bicycled to a party in the French Quarter. I remembered this place from the previous week when a woman called to inform B.B. that She saved a portion of her coveted Cajun food and to come get it. Previous times she met us a the door, but today it was a doorman who checked our names on his list before allowing passage. At the stair-top my coat was taken and, upon entering, I noted a single piece of art upon the wall was probably worth more than the last 10 years of my life. I dined on lobster and caviar that day.

The holidays arrived and with them came even more social gatherings and events. It was near Christmas when B.B. told me she’d be riding with a bunch atop an antique fire truck with other notables. Sounded weird so I invited myself.

It was full dark when we arrived at the street corner where the shiny purple truck waited. With a bunch of what looked like straight-laced folks, we climbed atop the old metallic battle-wagon. Near the front, one woman sat at a huge pipe organ. She began to play and Christmas tunes split the air as the truck jolted forward. Cramped among the smiling faces I watched as bottles of champagne were uncorked and plastic cups filled. Between us sat piles of cardboard boxes filled with small bags of potato chips and our gang began throwing them into the outstretched arms of people in the street. We were now a one-fire truck parade.

Our mission, I was told, was to scrutinize the Christmas decorations of every building in the French Quarter then later make assessment of who won the grand prize—whatever that might be. The French Quarter’s a grid of one-way streets and our antique red Christmas sleigh slowly traversed them all. It was one of the weirdest times of my life, and, along with the others, the grin seldom left my face as this strange show continued for an hour and a half.

Eventually the truck stopped and everyone filed off. A woman said to B.B., “We’re going to the big house. Come with us.” But my escort wished to go home instead. “There’s gonna be free food!” That statement caught my ear and I talked B.B. into going.

The place was very near and, stepping inside, I realized that tonight’s ride through the Twilight Zone had not yet ended. This house had obviously once belonged to some pre-Civil War filthy rich dude who was most likely connected to the plantation business. New Orleans was, after all, once a big shipping port for the cotton and tobacco industry of that era.

I entered the dining room to note most of our crew (which B.B. quietly informed me were some kind of civic leaders) now seated at its long wooden table. After grabbing a sandwich from their table, I turned to survey the living room. It was magnificent. One of the older men really loved this house, wanted to show it off to somebody, and decided it was gonna be me. What a break. So B.B. and I followed as he led from room to room telling story and answering my dumb questions.

Of considerable interest was the wide wooden chair, with high side panels. Our Tour Guide informed me that the woman of that time wore large hoop dresses and makeup made of wax. If they sat too near the fire their faces would melt. But they could sit in this chair with its high sides blocking the direct flame, be warm, and maintain composure too. Go figure aristocrats.

As we went to leave a woman handed B.B. an envelope containing $500 in cash. A Christmas gift from the wealthy. Only two days before I’d witnessed police at the 8th district take up a collection of $350 as Xmas gift for her. There were others too. It figured. I’d seen B.B. inspire the spirit of giving and selfless labor among so many in recent weeks. In short time I was destined to offer service as well…and for it would receive great reward.

But then, that’s another story…

#1: A ride down Bourbon St.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gc9pDQQDzA

#2: B.B. St. Roman speaks:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgKVri4wG7s

#3: Big Band street performers in the French Quarter:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3jWmxp7W1c

#4: Violinist street performers in the French Quarter:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDXZMEfk_Vs

Nothing better than old friends to help the winter disappear. When January closes out and the weather forces everyone inside, bikers look for any excuse to get out and party. The Colorado Motorcycle Expo is a terrific excuse. Like clockwork the CME is held the last weekend of January at the National Western Stock-show Complex.

For two days the facility is filled with steel horses, leather and chrome. Touted as the largest indoor motorcycle swap meet in the nation, it met the challenge. With approximately 200,000 square foot of space and 800 vendor spaces, all of them full, with action and bling.

Everyone has a specific reason for peeling to a swap meet. Small/Independent shops attend to make some money, and hold themselves over till riding weather and business picks up. Big shops need to get their names out and generate active leads. It will be bike-buying season soon. Builders bring their latest bikes to show off and hope to earn some bragging rights by taking home a trophy.

Shade tree mechanics scour the aisles for that special brand new innovation, or inspirational antique they need to launch their project closer to completion. Riders go to see old friends and make new ones. MCs meet for their winter get together and to maybe find a new prospect or two. Me, well I go for all of the above and to capture the essence of the event and bring it to you. Whatever your reason, the CME is a great show.

This year I meet up with some great vendors and quizzed them about their experience. My old friend Johnnie from J10 Leathers couldn’t keep his display full. Every time I stopped by he had a handful of customers looking at his biker wallets and other fine leather work. He said it was a great show, and thanks to the great attendance he will be back. I couldn’t even get close enough to his table to grab a photo.

Arlin and Donna Fatland of 2-Wheelers kicked off their 45th anniversary at the show. Old friends of Bikernet we wished them the best and congratulated them on achieving such an amazing milestone. They were working the crowd and visiting with everyone who came by their booth. Arlin has rolled with the custom world through thick and thin. Donna and Arlin also have shops in Daytona during Bike Week and on Main in Sturgis during the rally. Their shops are full of quirkiest shit on the planet. You can’t miss them.

Diesel Life and Greasy Bikers were on hand selling their sweet t-shirts and accessories. Both gave the same reviews as J10. Diesel Life even made some contacts for getting her line into some local stores. When your a start up company every little bit helps.

Wicked Influence sold their excess parts and Frank had a constant massive smile on his face. When I asked how he was doing he said, “Bills are paid in full for the month!” You can’t beat that.

Almost anything you could want in the way of motorcycle parts or accessories could be found. This is what a swap meet should be like. Watching one vendor, I caught him opening new tour-pak boxes and displaying them on his table. In a few minutes they were sold and he unwrapped some more. Chatting with him later he said he had to send his wife home to load more tour-paks. He sold out. That’s the perfect problem to have.

As the day rolled on the crowds stayed strong. At one time I even had trouble walking through the isles. But at about 3:30 the crowds thinned out as everyone made a b-line for the stadium. Jack Portice was on the loud speaker calling all able body bikers to come and enjoy the wet t-shirt contest. After its hiatuses for a year, it was back by popular demand. This year the girls did not disappoint.

Wherever you may live I am sure sometime during the year you will face a local swap meet. It may not be as big as the CME, but it’s always good time. Grab some buddies and go. If you can make it to Colorado at the end of January come down to the stock-show complex and join in some of the fun.