Further Adventures of the Borderland Biker -Chapter 16
By Bandit |
Editor’s note: The following story is from the book, “The Further Adventures of The Borderland Biker, In Memory of Indian Larry and Doo Wop Music,” by Derrel Whitemeyer.
Aside from the gray or was it gray blue Warrior parked next to a pile of empty fertilizer sacks, the shed except for a wood stove with more than a few bullet holes in it was bare. Larry then climbed the ladder leading up into the water tank.
“This tank hasn’t had water in it for years; but you’ve got to come up here and see what’s hanging on the walls.”
After a quick climb up the ladder I was inside. Lining the walls of the tank was the crème de la crème of semi automatic weapons. All were made of exotic blends of space age polymers and metal alloys and none had ammunition.
“All are semi automatic,” I said, “all are modern in design; but none have ammo. I think we may’ve stumbled upon an arsenal for survivalists.”
Climbing back down Larry and I search the shed for the ammo but with no success.
“Hello old timer. Did the high tech weapons upstairs kick you out?” Larry said as he picked up a worn, worn to the point of having worn off the bluing, Ruger Redhawk revolver hiding on a small table between an almost empty whisky bottle and a bowl of bell peppers.
“Is,” I asked, “your new friend loaded?”
“No, however there are five rounds on the table beside the bowl. My guess is someone who loves their liquor has been using it,” said Larry pointing to the wood stove with bullet holes in it, “for target practice on that stove. We need to make sure the Road Warrior’s ready to role as soon as the sun goes down. Speaking of being ready,” Larry said as he held up the Ruger, “I’m going to load this with the five rounds.”
After Larry rolled the Road Warrior into the center of the shed he became Larry the master mechanic. After a few minutes of checking essentials he gave it a thumbs-up.
“I can’t sleep,” said Larry, nodding up at the water tank and then at the bullet riddled wood stove, so I’ll stand watch.”
“I nodded at them too, “With our survivalist friends able to show up at any time, I’m not going to sleep either.”
“Then I might,” laughed Larry, as well finish my story.”
LARRY CONTINUES TO TELL THE STORY OF HOW HE FIRST ENTERED THE BORDERLANDS
FADE IN: Larry continues to tell the story in first person of how he entered the Borderlands.
Bobby and I continued riding north. Talbot would go south with the truck carrying the diesel fuel. He’d drive it back to Warden Bishop at the minimum security prison before sunset. It was where Bobby and I had been serving time.
“Larry,” Bobby yelled over to me, “we’re burning daylight; we need to leave now if we’re going to make it to Spanky’s Café before dark.”
Bishop had found out where Kate was broadcasting from by using the signal’s strength to triangulate the location. We should be able to reach it before the sun went down providing we didn’t run into any major obstacles.
“We’ll top-off our tanks,” said Bobby, “after we’ve ridden further north. We’ve quite a few miles left in them before we need to stop.”
“I wonder what could’ve caused cold that intense back at the facility; maybe there’s something to your legend?”
Bobby had ridden his bike around to where it was pointed north, “I vote we don’t hang around until nighttime to find out if the Aleut legend about the Devil being a giant trapdoor spider is true; I say we do all our wondering after we’re sitting in front of a nice warm fire at Spanky’s Cafe with enough wood stacked beside us to last until morning.”
Bobby and I had been released from an underground minimum security facility in the Nevada desert. Warden Bishop, the head of the facility, has agreed to erase our criminal records from the system if we agreed to search for diesel fuel and attempt to make contact with any others that may have survived an EMP attack on the United States. Thousands of hidden EMP devices, smuggled into our country by terrorists, had been set off destroying most everything electrical. Since then the facility where we were kept has been unable to contact or hear from anyone. With the exception of a strange (a woman by the name of KWOP Kate has been playing Doo Wop music and asking if anyone’s out there) broadcast from an AM radio station northwest of us near Bridgeport California we’ve not heard from another person. It was almost by accident we heard her broadcast.
With only about two days of fuel remaining for the facility’s electrical generator, because it was underground its circuits were protected, Bobby and I along with a mechanic named Talbot had gone north in search of more diesel fuel. We were also told to ride to where Kate was broadcasting. Bobby and I had the job of scouting ahead on our motorcycles for a path for Talbot to drive through the abandoned vehicles. We’ve found no sign of the drivers.
For whatever reason certain shadows after the sun has set, maybe as a result of the massive EMP attacks, are suspected of being so cold they’re freeze drying people and are lethal. All of this begs the question of what other effects have the EMP detonations had on the world around us?
Able to finally find and fix an abandoned diesel tanker, Talbot’s now driving it back to the facility. Bobby and I are now on our way to where Kate is broadcasting from Spanky’s Café. Bishop was able locate it by triangulating the difference in the station’s signal strength. We’re anxious to get there before the day ends. What we’re not anxious to find out…is if nighttime shadows can really freeze dry people.
It’s been nearly four hours since Talbot left us. In the meantime Bobby and I are in our highest gear and riding north like two low flying canaries a.k.a. guinea pigs trying to catch the wind. Bobby’s 111ci Indian’s setting a fast pace, not into the triple digits but fast enough to keep my Wide Glide in 6th gear most of the time. Abandoned cars and trucks continue to slow us down; one ten mile cluster almost stopped us until we were able to find a way to wind our way through. When we finally turn off the two lane highway onto the road leading into the foothills and to Spanky’s Café evening’s shadows are beginning to lengthen.
Bobby instead of pressing on suddenly slows down and stops between two abandoned cars.
“Abandoned vehicles are becoming fewer and farther between. I make a motion we top-off our tanks on the chance these are the last vehicles we’ll see before we get to Spanky’s. We’ve enough fuel to make it to where Bishop marked it on the map, but on the chance he was wrong…”
“…but on the chance Bishop was wrong,” I added, seconding Bobby’s motion, “we’ll at least have enough gas to make it back to these cars.”
The Toyota van closest to the center of the road was near empty; the Mustang closest to the guardrail was nearly full. Evening shadows had crept down from the hills, over the guardrail and were a foot from the Mustang’s rear wheel.
Our siphon consisted of a small battery powered pump that drained gas into a gallon plastic bag. It was another example of Talbot’s ingenuity, that and the fact he was able to get the diesel tanker repaired and running before noon.
Bobby has already filled the plastic bag four times fueling our bikes. He was in the process of filling it one more time which would allow me to top-off my Wide Glide when he yelled and pointed at the shadow he’d just stepped in, “Ouch, the shadow’s so cold it burned!”
Looking at where he was pointing, I could see the shadow that had been touching the guardrail was now stretched across the road to where he was standing. We’d been in and out of isolated shadows throughout the day with no ill effects. The shadow that had touched Bobby was completely opaque, reflecting no light and reached across the fields and into the darkness of the bordering hills.
“Larry, it numbs your legs; if I’d stayed in it for any length of time I wouldn’t have been able to move.”
Taking the last gallon of gas Bobby had siphoned I finished filling my Wide Glide. There was about a pint left in the plastic bag.
“Get on your bike and get ready to roll. I’ve a theory about these darker than normal shadows…that is if they really are shadows,” I said, having already poured the remaining gas across the shadow and then lit a match.
“If the flames from your fire travel up the fumes flowing down from that Mustang’s open tank you’re going to get more than your eyebrows singed”
“Not to worry, the wind’s in my favor,” I said throwing the match into the puddle of gas.
What happened next was more unexpected than having the Mustang explode. From where the opaque part was touched by flames it retreated like an all black broken wave back down the beach, back over the guardrail. It had been riding piggyback on top of the normal shadow; but I had to be sure if my theory was correct. Risking the fumes from the open tank might at any moment be ignited with a change in the wind; I got off my bike and walked over to the where Bobby had been standing. Stepping into the normal looking shadow brought with it no freezing cold.
“It feels and looks like an ordinary shadow. It’s as if the cold dark layer rides along on top it. In fact you can see the dark layer in the distance; it’s the opaque part that’s moved off into the field, the part that’s retreated from the light and fire of the burning gasoline…”
“…but that’s just started to move closer,” Bobby completed what I was about to say, “now that your fire’s dying down! What do you say we ‘not’ find out if that darker layer holds a grudge against you for setting it on fire; what do you say we figure this all out ‘after’ we get to Spanky’s Café.”
[page break]
Our decision to top-off proved to be a good one; the Mustang we’d siphoned gas from would be the last car we’d see before climbing the foothills leading to the small valley where Bishop had marked the place where KWOP Kate broadcast her AM signal. Cresting our final hill we could see the roof of Spanky’s Cafe over two miles away. Twilight had followed us and its shadows were reaching across the road.
Since leaving Talbot, Talbot had elected to drive the diesel tanker truck back to the facility, Bobby and I had kept a near ninety mile an hour pace towards the northwest. Highway 6 and 95 had been crossed. Blocking the western sky the Sierra Nevada Mountains were always to our left; 10,000 foot Potato Peak had been to our right for the last half an hour. Bridgeport’s exit was passed; signs for the Twin Lakes turnoff were behind us.
We were in California, of that I was sure. The spot Bishop had made by triangulating Kate’s signal then marking the location of Spanky’s Café was at the end of a valley entering the Hoover Wilderness. We’d been lucky in finding gas along the way and being able to weave our way through clusters of abandoned vehicles blocking the road. Had we been in a car we would’ve been stopped long ago.
Always in the back of our minds was the mystery surrounding nighttime shadows. Ordinary shadows, separated or surrounded by daylight, seemed normal. It was the blanket of evening, the uninterrupted shadow after sunset we feared.
It was Bobby’s encounter with the shadow next to the Mustang that was enough to make us ride as fast as we could, faster if we could’ve. Whether it was the effects of the EMP detonations or the result of, according to Bobby’s Aleut Indian legend, the legend of the door to Hell being opened; it was nighttime we feared.
Spanky’s Café was a speck, barely visible. Covering the road, except for a narrow path of light on the right, leading to the café was nighttime’s shadow; the sun was setting. Blackness was flowing eastward down the Sierra’s flanks.
I’d pulled to a stop ahead of Bobby when I turned to face him, “We’ve a strip of light maybe two feet wide between twilight’s shadow and where the pavement reaches the edge of the road and we’ve about three more miles to go until we reach Spanky’s. Even with us riding at top speed we’ll be threading a needle between nighttime and the road’s shoulder before we get to the cafe and that’s if we’re lucky. If luck’s not with us, we’ll run out of daylight covered road.”
Having given my pep-talk, I twisted the throttle open and prayed the Wide Glide, as much as I loved Harleys, could’ve changed itself into a faster bike. Praying it could change into a Hayabusa would’ve been too much.
The Indian with its tons of torque followed me to about 115 mph; the Wide Glide might’ve gone faster. I backed off; I’d either make it to the café with Bobby or not at all, and then we were in shadow and it was freezing. We had a half a mile to go and we’d run out of daylight and then our engines quit running. We could’ve coasted that last quarter mile had the road not been on an incline; we came to stop a little less than two hundred yards away from Spanky’s Café.
The change in temperature took our breath away. It was as if we’d suddenly been teleported to Siberia.
“Get your bandana up around your face…,” Bobby had become a Marine drill instructor and was yelling in my face.
I hesitated, unable to understand what he wanted done.
“…and breathe through your nose. That’s an order!”
He’d already stabbed a hole in his tank and was filling a plastic bag with leaking gas. He handed me a plastic bag and motioned for me to do the same to the Wide Glide.
“Hurry, catch as much gas as you can; we’ve got less than a minute. Any longer and we’ll be so numb it’ll be too late and it won’t make any difference.”
I was still trying to fill my plastic bag from the hole I’d punched in the Wide Glide’s gas tank when I realized I’d left my surfboard outside and that the sun would melt the wax…and that the west swell would soon be breaking…
“Hey, Marine…no sleeping…follow me…NOW!
Bobby had reached down into whatever reserve I’ve seen him reach into before and gotten me moving. I would’ve been asleep dreaming of Hawaiian surf…forever…had he not awakened me.
Movement was already painful and we’d only gone about twenty yards. Bobby stopped abruptly; we’d been leaking gas from our plastic bags from where we’d left our bikes. His first match should’ve lit but didn’t. His second didn’t either. I had a vision of us acting out a weird version of Hans Christian Andersen’s LITTLE MATCH GIRL. His third match, but only after he’d said something in Hawaiian and held it against a tattoo in the shape of a totem at the base of his neck, finally burst into flame. Instead of throwing the burning match at the trail of gas Bobby carefully cupped it and bent down and touched it to the fuel. Immediately following the whooshing sound gas makes when it’s ignited, there came the rushing noise I’d heard before from the opaque shadow that had retreated from where we’d refueled near the Mustang.
When the trail of flame reached our bikes the Wide Glide exploded first, the Indian a second later. Flaming gas coupled with bits and pieces of fenders and tanks were thrown outward creating a circle of light nearly a hundred feet wide. It was dumb luck Bobby and I weren’t hit by the debris.
“Hurry!” came from a long away and from a tall woman standing in the doorway of Spanky’s Café.
“Better do what the lady says;” Bobby was already running towards the café, “we’ve seconds before the gas is burned away.”
With less than a seventy feet to go I felt I’d already run a mile. With only fifty feet to go the burning gasoline began to sputter out and our light to disappear. At the same time a roadside flare was thrown from the doorway in our direction. It would be our life preserver; we’d make it to Spanky’s Café.
# # # # # # #
“Quiet! There are voices,” I held my hand up for Larry to stop telling his story, “outside the water tank.”
Larry, with his better than superior hearing, looked towards the door, “There are three, maybe four of them; they’ve just spotted the Raider parked around the corner, they’ve got guns and they’re about to…HIT THE DECK…shoot through the walls!”
“Hubba hubba,” followed by laughter came from outside followed by a dozen rounds passing through the walls of the shed; followed by more laughter. “About now you two trespassers have hit the floor.”
Some more rounds were fired through the shed’s wall; this time much lower. Two of the bullets hit the work bench Larry and I were hiding behind.
“That’s enough boys,” came from outside and from the same voice. “We wouldn’t want to hurt our friends inside the shed before Randy gets here to question them. Hey, I got dibs on their motorcycle.”
Larry faced me, “Where’s Hilts when you need him?”
“Someone,” said a slurred voice behind us, “call me?”
Larry and I turned together to see Hilts stumble upright from under the fertilizer sacks. He had what looked like a Halloween mask partially pushed up on his forehead and could barely stand.
“I guess we know,” I said, “who drank the whisky.”
Chapter 17 coming soon!
NCOM Coast To Coast Biker News for July 2014
By Bandit |
THE AIM/NCOM MOTORCYCLE E-NEWS SERVICE is brought to you by Aid to Injured Motorcyclists (A.I.M.) and the National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM), and is sponsored by the Law Offices of Richard M. Lester. If you’ve been involved in any kind of accident, call us at 1-(800) ON-A-BIKE or visit www.ON-A-BIKE.com.
NCOM COAST TO COAST BIKER NEWS
Compiled & Edited by Bill Bish,
National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM)
MOTORCYCLE BILL AIMS TO BRING EQUAL TREATMENT IN SOUTH CAROLINA
South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley recently signed a Motorcycle Equal Access Bill that mandates equal treatment toward motorcyclists across the state in all public areas.
This legislation, sponsored by Rep. Todd Atwater (R-Lexington), amends the Code of South Carolina to keep local law enforcement agencies from denying access to motorcyclists on public highways, bridges, parking garages and essentially any publicly funded areas.
A lot of local motorcycle groups supported this bill, many feeling that law enforcement has not treated them right for a long time and they say they’re ready for a change. “There’s few municipalities, in particular, that want to stop motorcycles from parking in publicly funded taxpayer areas,” said one ABATE spokesperson. “If tax payers are paying for a garage, then they should not be allowed to tell us we can’t park there.”
Under the bill, cities and counties have to make reasonable accommodations for motorcycle parking in lots and garages.
“All this bill is about is equal access, this is making sure that when you go to any city in this state that if you have a motorcycle you have a place to park,” said the governor who is also an ABATE member, adding; “As long as I have been in office, ABATE has been my friends, and that’s because they fight for all the right things; they’ve always fought for safety, they’ve always fought for individual rights, they’ve always fought to make sure that people have the liberties they should have.”
MISSOURI LIFTS BAN ON SUNDAY CYCLE SALES
Due to so-called “Blue Laws” influenced by early religious edicts, vehicle sales are prohibited on the Sabbath in several states, but Missouri recently joined a growing list of states that are repealing these outdated bans.
Governor Jay Nixon signed HB1735 on Monday, June 23rd that will lift a ban on Sunday sales of motorcycles, all-terrain vehicles, personal watercraft and other items typically sold by power-sports dealers.
The legislation was championed by motorcycle riders and at least one Harley-Davidson dealer from the Kansas City area, who told lawmakers that he was losing Sunday business to a competitor in Kansas.
When the measure takes effect August 28, Missouri will join Indiana, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York and Maryland in removing their Sunday sales bans over the past few years.
Other states that currently prohibit the Sunday sales of motorcycles and automobiles are Colorado, Illinois, Iowa, Louisiana, Maine, Minnesota, Oklahoma, North Dakota and Wisconsin.
The Missouri legislation does not repeal the state’s ban on Sunday sales of cars and trucks.
UTAH LAWMAKERS URGED TO “GET AHEAD” OF OUTLAW BIKERS
A perceived proliferation of outlaw motorcycle “gangs” in Utah has led a veteran police officer to warn lawmakers that they need to get ahead of the curve.
“There’s been a 300 percent increase in the members of outlaw motorcycle gangs in Utah, compared to what we experienced five years ago,” Utah County Sheriff’s Sgt. Lane Critser told members of the Legislature’s Law Enforcement and Criminal Justice Interim Committee on Wednesday, July 16.
Critser, who has worked in gang enforcement since 2008, said the proliferation of gangs and gang members could be attributed to multiple factors. Utah is an “untouched” state, meaning no gang has claimed territory as its own. Also, law enforcement in Utah is unaccustomed to dealing with outlaw motorcycle gangs on a regular basis, he said.
“It’s like a gold rush. Everybody is trying to get here and establish dominance in the state so they can run a variety of their criminal activities and make their money in the state,” Critser testified to the committee.
The state also is becoming increasingly attractive to members of outlaw motorcycle clubs because Utah is largely rural, said Rep. Paul Ray (R-Clearfield), pointing out that a number of clubs have hosted runs in Utah, including one where several members racked up citations for multiple violations in numerous counties en route to Weber County, and “By the time they got there, they just turned around and went home. They didn’t want to deal with it any more,” Ray said. “Really, you’ve got to make it expensive and uncomfortable for these guys and they won’t want to stick around.”
While he offered no details, Ray said he intends to introduce a gang initiative during the 2015 legislative session.
BERLIN BANS HELLS ANGELS LOGO
Outlawing the motorcycle club’s symbols represents the latest weapon in a fight to stop Germany’s ‘rocker wars.’ In the latest salvo of a battle to rein in outlaw motorcycle clubs, authorities in Berlin are hitting the global Hells Angels brand where it hurts most: the logo.
Last month, the signature winged death’s head and “Hells Angels” label featured on the motorcycle club’s “cut,” or leather vest, were banned in the capital as the symbols of a criminal organization.
According to GlobalPost, a Hamburg judge outlawed Germany’s first Hells Angels charter in the city in 1983, but the Hells Angels as an organization have never before been banned across Germany. Now the prohibition of the iconic logo has come about through an ironic twist.
When a former member of the banned Hamburg charter appealed to the court in April to be allowed to wear the club’s “colors,” the judge interpreted the original ruling to mean that the Hells Angels logo is illegal not only in Hamburg, but throughout the country.
“Now, all the other regions in Germany are thinking about that judgment,” said detective superintendent Matthias Frohn, deputy head of the Berlin police division responsible for curtailing the city’s motorcycle gangs. Frohn says it remains to be seen whether the broader ban on the club’s logo will be enough to finally scatter the gang.
MONGOLS REFUSED INCORPORATION
The Mongols Motorcycle Club has been formally refused permission to become a registered incorporated body in South Australia. Despite claims by the club that it hosts recreational and charity events and that it was only formed because of its members’ interests in American motorcycles, Acting Liquor Licensing Commissioner Dini Soulio has refused their application.
Senior legal sources told the Herald-Sun newspaper that they believe the Mongols’ move was largely tactical and aimed at thwarting the provisions of the Serious and Organized Crime (Control) Act should police obtain association or control orders against any members in the future.
SA Attorney-General John Rau has endorsed the decision, made on public safety grounds, to reject the Mongols’ incorporation application.
A Mongols source said the club was considering a legal challenge to the ruling “in the same successful way as two previous legal challenges” involving anti-bikie legislation.
Check out the expanded 5-Ball Racing apparel line.
NCOM REGION 1 MEETING & SEMINAR, OCTOBER 25TH IN PORTLAND, OREGON
The National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM) will host an NCOM Region 1 Meeting & Seminar on Saturday, October 25 at the Holiday Inn – Portland Airport, 8439 N.E. Columbia Blvd in Portland, Oregon (503) 256-5000.
NCOM Region 1 comprises the states of Alaska, California, Hawaii, Idaho, Oregon and Washington, and this annual Coming Together will feature a seminar on the Defender Program & Freedom of the Road Throughout the Nation talk by Paul Landers, U.S. Defender Lt Commander and Liaison for COCs Texas; “Profiling the Big Win in Washington” by “Double D” & Twitch – Outsiders M/C, Washington State COC; and a seminar on Legal Issues by Washington Aid to Injured Motorcyclists (A.I.M.) Attorney Marty Fox and Oregon A.I.M. Attorney Sam Hochberg.
A Regional Meeting will include discussions from participating state organizations, and continue with a Confederation of Clubs Meeting with reports from representatives of each Confederation present, and conclude with a Christian Unity Seminar and Meeting.
For further information, contact NCOM at 800-ON-A-BIKE or visit www.ON-A-BIKE.com.
SAVE THE PATCH (Excerpted), by Spike
The familiar rumble and roar of a pack of bikes, which is music to our ears, may be a faintly distant tune in the future. The loudest noise on the streets right now is the buzz and the buzz on the streets is “SAVE THE PATCH”.
‘SAVE THE PATCH’ is the culmination of many factors including decades of ever increasing discrimination and persecution to Bikers, their organizations and their lifestyle in general. We as bikers have widely been subjected to unwarranted highway stops, refused admittance into establishments and misrepresentation by law enforcement and the media. The U.S. Department of Justice last year filed a lawsuit seeking to seize control of the trademarked logo of the Mongol Nation Motorcycle Club LLC, arguing that the Mongols are a criminal organization and that the mark is used for intimidation; but the Mongols and their attorneys argue that the government is overstepping its bounds with the lawsuit, which they said would infringe on the rights of club members. “They’re trying to destroy the right of men to associate and indicate their association,” said Joe Yanny, an attorney representing the Mongols. “It’s absolutely ridiculous. In addition to being a violation of club members’ free-speech rights, more importantly, it’s a due-process issue.”
The lawsuit breaks new ground in terms of trademark law, the attorney said, adding that it may end up at the Supreme Court. Unlike a business trademark controlled by a single entity, the Mongols’ logo is a “collective membership mark,” and “It’s legally owned by one entity, but held in trust for the members. It’s the votes of club members that ultimately determined who is allowed to wear the club’s patch.”
Bikers throughout the state and nationwide identify with the message being sent out and the ramifications, if the patch is lost, it will affect us all. In southern California, widely respected members of all major clubs have met to discuss ways to save the patch. A Facebook page “SAVE the PATCH” has been set up since October and it states: “It has become time to further protect and defend our rights to ride, associate, and enjoy our lifestyle for all motorcycle riders and enthusiasts. To wear our respective clubs membership insignia, which have been trademarked, copyrighted, and incorporated by these organized entities. Representatives from a few of these clubs in Southern California have come together to make the initial steps in presenting and organizing the support of all motorcycle clubs and riders to stand up and work to prevent the freedoms we all value and enjoy from being eroded further, by an ever more intrusive government apparently bent on tyrannical control, we all need to become involved and work to defend that which we all enjoy about our lifestyle, be it as a club member or independent riders.”
The good news is, the passion to ride, the passion for freedom and the passion to preserve the life style is more than enough to unite the Biker world in whatever stance it takes to SAVE THE PATCH.
To contribute, make checks payable to “Trademark Defense Fund” and mail c/o NCOM, 7334 Topanga Canyon Blvd, Suite 200, Canoga Park, CA 91303.
WEIRD NEWS: WHAT’S A “BIKER”?
Do you identify yourself as a “biker,” a “motorcyclist,” or a “rider”? To some motorcycle riders, the terms are fairly interchangeable. To others, the terms are more finely nuanced, as the people behind the Oxford English Dictionary recently discovered.
Last February, the online edition for the Oxford English Dictionary rewrote its definition for “biker” after receiving complaints from motorcyclists. Riders took exception to the old definition which read: “a motorcyclist, especially one who is a member of a gang: a long-haired biker in dirty denims.”
In a poll of 524 motorcycle riders, nearly three-quarters of them said the definition was inaccurate, while 60% said it was “dated and irrelevant.” Another 21% had a more passionate reaction, saying they were “outraged and offended.”
In response, the Oxford University Press, which publishes the OED, updated the definition to read: “a motorcyclist, especially one who is a member of a gang or group: a biker was involved in a collision with a car.”
We’re not sure that’s much better, but then we don’t represent ourselves to be the “most comprehensive dictionary of the English language.”
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QUOTABLE QUOTE: “Let us form one body, one heart and defend to the last warrior our country, our homes, our liberty, and the graves of our fathers.”
~ Tecumseh (born 1768 near Chillicothe, Ohio – died 1813) Shawnee leader, folk hero
NHRA Spring Nationals – May 6, 2014
By Bandit |
I arrived at the trackside a bit later than normal as the Pro Mod and Pro Comp cars were already making some qualifying passes. The Top Fuel Cars were starting to line up in the staging lanes and the Pro Stocks were beginning to emerge from beneath the tower. I commented about the lack of Pro Stock Motorcycles, to which one of my fellow photographers stated they were not running this event. This was strange as this race had been on the schedule in previous years, as I made additional inquiries someone mentioned the fuel bikes were in town. That made no sense as they had just been here last month.
Had I taken an opportunity to check the schedule for this season it would seem NHRA has the Top Fuel Harley’s running at 2 national events here in Houston and also Bristol in June, along with the additional regional races. While the 2 national races are “Points” races, it would seem NHRA might be testing the waters for a national campaign with the Fuel Harley’s in 2015?
With 10 of the TF Harley teams showing up, they must have driven in a big circle with many of them having been here the previous month. It was good to visit again as well as make some new friends. As the weekend progressed it would be Tommy Grimes and Randal Andras meeting for the final round. Tommy would be the one to trip the win light at the end of the track for the first National Event win.
While the Top Fuel Boys and Girls are a lot of fun, one of the big stories making the rounds over the weekend, were the Ladies of the Sport being only 2 wins away from the 100 win mark! While that many wins is a story by itself, yet when compared to any other motor sport is a beat down! With 5 ladies in the weekend pro events there was a lot of hope the Houston track would be home to yet another NHRA milestone.
Starting the weekend off, we had the two Force ladies, Courtney and Brittney in TF/FC and TF/D, along with Alexis DeJoria in TF/FC, Leah Pritchett also in a TF/D and the hometown favorite, local lady Erica Enders-Stevens in Pro Stock. Erica being the favorite as this is the track she started her racing career in at Jr. Dragsters, as well as being the track she announced her intention to try the Pros.
Although there was really no way for her to be the magic number 100 this weekend, just due to the class order they race in for the finals, with Pro Stock racing prior to the funny cars and dragsters. However as the day wore on and racers were eliminated it came down to Erica as the last lady standing and whose Pro Stock Camero just seemed to get faster with each pass! As the sun started to set, it was Erica and Allan Johnson we found sitting beneath the tower, in a rematch of last years PS final, which Allen took, waiting out a small rain delay.
And it appeared as though Erica’s crew was just going to hand it to Allan Johnson and his team, as they had taken off the engine cover, and were working on something up under the passenger side dash and in the back of the car. Soon as the track officials gave the all clear on the track, Allen fired off his and began to move forward towards the water box to do his burnout. And while he and Erica are great friends off the track, his car was ready and he was not waiting! The track announcer even commented that when you pull your car up to the staging lanes it is supposed to be ready!
Just as Allen Johnson’s car was starting up track in his burnout, Erica’s car roared to life and she pulled forward for her burnout. Just in the knick of time I would imagine, before the NHRA track officials would have DQed her. As the lights turned green Erica blazed down the track with the faster reaction time 0.018 to Allen Johnsons 0.044 which would take her to the win light for the final round win, along with win number 99 for the ladies! I know that the folks here in Houston will be sitting on the edge of their seats for the races in Atlanta, May 16th as Erica has won 6 of the last 9 races of the ladies. Can she take that 100th?
However let’s not lose track of the fact that these ladies are just great racers, the 99 wins is just the icing on the cake!
Angelle who was in town for the races, hinted that she might come back, as she is just 5 wins away from setting the all-time Pro Stock Motorcycle wins record, currently held by Dave Schultz. Then you add Ashley Force Hood who may be returning, having just regained her Top Fuel License and who know what 2015 will bring?
Till Next Time,
RFR
Female leaders by victories is as follows (NHRA)
1. Angelle Sampey, Pro Stock Motorcycle 41 (first at Reading 1996, last at Houston 2007)
2. Shirley Muldowney, Top Fuel 18 (first at Columbus 1976, last at Phoenix 1989), Although it was Shirley who kicked open the door to then ‘Boys Only Club” back in 1973 when she got her Top Fuel License.
3. Erica Enders-Stevens, Pro Stock 8 (first at Chicago 2012, last at Houston 2014)
4. Karen Stoffer, Pro Stock Motorcycle 6 (first at Houston 2004, last at Denver 2011)
5. Melanie Troxel, Top Fuel-Funny Car 5 (first at Pomona 1 2006, TF, last at Bristol 2008, FC)
6. Shelly Payne, Top Fuel 4 (first at Reading 1993, last at Seattle 1996)
7. Lori Johns, Top Fuel 4 (first at Pomona 1 1990, last at Memphis 1991)
8. Ashley Force Hood, Funny Car 4 (first at Atlanta 2008, last at Indianapolis 2010)
9. Courtney Force, Funny Car 3 (first at Seattle 2012, last at Epping 2013)
10. Alexis DeJoria, Funny Car 2 (first at Phoenix 2014, last at Las Vegas 1 2014)
11. Lucille Lee, Top Fuel 1 (Atlanta 1982)
12. Cristen Powell, Top Fuel 1 (Englishtown 1997)
13. Peggy Llewellyn, Pro Stock Motorcycle 1 (Dallas 2007)
14. Hillary Will, Top Fuel 1 (Topeka 2008)
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700 MILES SOUTH OF THE MEXICAN BORDER -Scooter Tramp Scotty
By Bandit |
(The first story in a series of three)
Winter’s cold is long and bites deep for a man who travels by motorcycle and spends most of his nights outside. These frigid months push the nomadic motorcyclists far to the south, and it’s for this reason I long ago began to migrate over the border and deep into Mexico…
As the lonely two-lane highway spread out across the Mexican desert I relaxed farther into the pilot’s seat of the old FL. Strange breeds of huge cactus—some 60-foot tall—spread across the mountains and flat lands. Beat up ranch houses came and went. An occasional town, always with large dirt parking lots standing before the family run stores, restaurants, and taco stands, came then passed quickly as the road continued its solitary journey.
I was not alone. Michelle had been living from the back of her motorcycle for five consecutive years and together we decided to make this ride. The very loose plan had been to cross the border at Tijuana then hang in Baja for a month or two before catching a ship across the Sea of Cortez to the mainland, then cross the bulk of Mexico, reenter the US at Texas, ride to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, then on to Florida for the Daytona rally. Seemed like a reasonable winter plan to me. As usual we’d simply make camp upon the land of our choosing and clean up in the government run gas stations which almost all offered showers for a few pesos.
Mulege sets along the Bay of Conception some 635 miles south of the border. Here desert gives way to thick groves of beautiful date-palm trees thriving along the river as it passes through this uncommonly beautiful coastal village. While here, friendly Canadian snowbirds took us in search of dolphins on their boat. After just over a week’s stay we resumed the southbound journey.
When two hours had passed, the slightly larger costal town of Loreto came to view. A small grove of short trees stood beside the tiny dirt road leading us ½ mile beyond the town limits. These would provide shade over our camp for the next week. A local gym offered showers. We settled in around town and, in time, befriended many tourists/snowbirds, and locals as well.
The flyer on a storefront window said: “The Baja Bikers MC will be throwing a party at the Del Borracho Saloon. Bands, booze, etc. Everyone’s invited.” Of course we’d go.
Baja Bikers began to arrive two days before their scheduled event and we met many. Their manner was friendly and fun as we accompanied them from bar to bar and even a hotel room or two. Some were American riders who now lived in Mexico.
The day arrived.
The Del Borracho stood alone in the desert some three miles outside of town and it was a challenge to find parking among so many motorcycles already there. Surprisingly, our bikes were a bit ragged when compared to most of the late model Harleys.
The party began…
The large bar on this huge property was packed both inside and out. Barbeques smoked as everyone drank and gorged. Outside, multiple metal bands pumped out tune after defining tune from a slightly elevated portable stage. Below, a crowd of half-lit nut-ward escapees mobbed the dance floor in an atmosphere of anything goes. The mood was almost overly friendly and conversation flowed easily with almost everyone we met. It was a time I would not forget. In Mexico, parties with family and friends are a major part of the native culture and there is not a single law intruding enforcement agency to disturb such a thing.
Eventually however, time passed into the small hours of late night stillness.
Most of the crowd had gone home as we sat at the bar/restaurant with only a few stragglers and the establishment’s owners. Conversation became more personal as I listened intently to the tales of their journey. Mike and Cholie are both gringos from the U.S. Some years prior to life in Mexico they’d worked as captain and caretakers aboard a movie star’s huge yacht. Eventually they migrated south to buy this property then build their house, garage, and the Del Borracho Saloon. Mike had once been a member of an American MC and although no longer affiliated, still kept his Shovelhead parked in his big freestanding garage. Beside it sat a few motorcycles belonging to friends, many tools, odds and ends, and his high powered dirt dragster. Mike seemed uncommonly interested in our gypsy ways and this attraction tightened our bond even more.
We were invited to make camp upon their land. But I’d already chosen a more secluded spot in the nearby desert. The land had been my home for many years and in its embrace is where I feel most comfortable. Obviously however, we’d cruise by in the morning for breakfast and a spin in the hot, open air, shower stall attached to the garage.
Tomorrow would be a day of leisure, and Mike brought up the idea of a beach outing with a few friends and ourselves piled into their SUV. How could we say no?
It was another fine morning and warm sunshine again dominated this southern latitude. Mike and Cholie’s SUV brought our little band of six souls to a great family restaurant. The mood was light and talkative on this fine day. Breakfast was a parody of comedy…some of it quite dirty by church standards. When finished, Mike took care of the bill and all piled back into the truck for the 30-mile journey north to his “special” beach. The mood was high and comedy continued to reign.
The SUV came upon a military check point and we were made to stop. Most of our associates held cans of beer in their hands as they stepped from the vehicle. All stood nearby, swilled beer, and flapped jaws while waiting for the army guys to finish their job. Mike laughed as the empty beer cans spilled from his truck and onto the ground while the vehicle was searched. The military men grinned back. Having lived in Mexico for so long, Mike was no stranger to this procedure. He told me that they were just looking for guns or drugs and we’d be on our way soon as they finished their job. But I already knew of this from personal experience; although they seldom, if ever, really search Betsy.
The winter beach was sunny, warm, and quite drunken. The day’s remainder passed in a blur and before I knew it we were back at the Del Borracho. This bar, by the way, was originally supposed to be the “El Boreacho” (The Drunk, in English) except that the sign painter misspelled the name. Mike just went with it. This is, after all, Mexico and one can simply NOT expect perfection down here. Betsy fit right in.
We spent another week in Loreto. After all, there was no real hurry. Old man winter still held the frigid north in his grip, and this icy realm would not condone motorcycle travel up there for months to come.
But the call of itchy feet began to sing their song once again. The bigger city of La Paz awaited some few hundred miles to the south. A course was set. Little did I know that these recent adventures were only the very tip of what lay ahead….
But then, that’s another story.
Scooter Tramp Scotty
Part Two and Three coming soon……stay tuned!
NCOM Coast To Coast Biker News for May 2014
By Bandit |
THE AIM/NCOM MOTORCYCLE E-NEWS SERVICE is brought to you by Aid to Injured Motorcyclists (A.I.M.) and the National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM), and is sponsored by the Law Offices of Richard M. Lester. If you’ve been involved in any kind of accident, call us at 1-(800) ON-A-BIKE or visit www.ON-A-BIKE.com.
NCOM BIKER NEWSBYTES
Compiled & Edited by Bill Bish,
National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM)
OBAMA ADMINISTRATION’S “GROW AMERICA ACT” PUSHES HELMET LAWS
The U.S. Department of Transportation (DOT) has sent to Congress a $302 billion four-year surface transportation reauthorization proposal, the “Generating Renewal, Opportunity, and Work with Accelerated Mobility, Efficiency, and Rebuilding of Infrastructure and Communities throughout America Act” – or GROW AMERICA Act; President Obama’s blueprint for a model transportation bill, which happens to include a push for mandatory motorcycle helmet laws nationwide!
Specifically, buried in the Obama Administration’s 350-page proposal, found under “Title IV — Highway And Motor Vehicle Safety,” in SEC. 4004: Amendment to Motorcyclist Safety Grant Criteria, the GROW AMERICA Act would amend Section 405(f) of title 23, United States Code by inserting the following: “SUPPORT ACTIVITY — The (Transportation) Secretary or the Secretary’s designee may engage in activities with States and State legislators to consider proposals related to motorcycle helmet use laws.”
The time to act is NOW! This new highway bill is under immediate consideration as the current two-year “Moving Ahead for Progress in the 21st Century Act” (MAP-21) expires in September, but the Highway Trust Fund — the main funding source for most state and local transportation projects — is headed toward insolvency and is expected to run out of money as early as July. So contact your Congressional representatives today, and protect your rights for tomorrow!
LEGISLATIVE PROPOSAL WOULD PREVENT YOUR MOTORCYCLE FROM TESTIFYING AGAINST YOU
Data collected from so-called “Black Box” devices can be used against you in a court of law, and most people don’t even realize it.
That’s why U.S. Senator Amy Klobuchar (D-MN) is proposing to amend the language of the Driver Privacy Act to protect all information recorded by event data recorders installed on all “motor vehicles”, including motorcycles. The way S. 1925 is currently written grants privacy only for data the government “requires” to be collected.
Currently the government does not require “black boxes” on motorcycles, only passenger vehicles, trucks and buses. But some current motorcycle models are equipped with the recording devices. A similar bill in the House (H.R. 2414) is worded that “any data recorded on any event data recorder in an automobile or motorcycle shall be considered the property of the owner of the automobile or motorcycle.”
Under current law, insurance companies, law enforcement and auto rental agencies can access the data on the device and can use it as evidence against the driver/owner in legal proceedings. Data recorders collect a wide range of information on crashes, including whether the brakes were applied, the speed at the time of impact, the steering angle, and whether seat belt circuits were shown as “Buckled” or “Unbuckled” at the time of the crash.
Fourteen states have statutes that restrict access to the event data recorder or limit the use of recovered EDR information.
GOVERNORS ASSOCIATION NOTES REDUCED MOTORCYCLIST FATALITIES
A recent report by the Governors Highway Safety Association projects that the number of motorcyclist fatalities fell by 7% last year, the second decline in five years, despite an increase in motorcycle sales in 2013.
The report, “Spotlight on Highway Safety,” based its findings on motorcyclist fatality counts reported to the GHSA by all 50 states and the District of Columbia for the first nine months of 2013, and indicated that motorcycle fatalities are projected up in 13 states, down in 35 states and D.C., and to remain the same in two states compared with the first nine months of 2012.
Noting bad weather the first six months of 2013, the association projects that the number of motorcyclists killed last year will total 4,610, down from 4,957 in 2012 and nearly identical to the 2011 figure of 4,612.
Meanwhile, new motorcycle sales ended the year with a 1.4% overall increase, up from 452,386 total units in 2012 to 458,972 last year, bringing total U.S. motorcycle registrations to a record 9 million nationwide.
The Governors association also noted that the use of helmets dropped to 60% in 2012 down from 66% in 2011, citing that only 19 states now require helmets for all riders.
GAS PRICES RELATE TO FATAL MOTORCYCLE ACCIDENTS
Researchers have found a strong relationship between gasoline prices and motorcycle fatalities: As gas prices rise, so do the number of fatalities, and falling gas prices tend to be mirrored by reduced numbers of motorcycle deaths.
An analysis by the National Safety Council showed a strong correlation between gasoline prices and motorcycle fatalities, charting the trend since 1976. Safety experts speculate that higher gas prices encourage people to use fuel-efficient motorcycles instead of cars.
With new unit sales increasing when gas prices go up, there are more people riding and potentially more inexperienced riders on the road.
NEW MICHIGAN LAW LIMITS TEMPORARY MOTORCYCLE PERMITS
Michigan Governor Rick Snyder has signed legislation that encourages motorcycle operators to apply for a full operating endorsement by limiting their ability to obtain temporary training permits. The move is aimed at improving motorcycle safety standards in the state.
Sponsored by Representative Bradford Jacobsen (R-Oxford), House Bill 4781 allows a motorcyclist to apply for a temporary instruction permit (TIP) only twice during a 10-year period, starting next January. Previously, there was no limit to the number of times a person could be granted a temporary permit, so many operators would apply every riding season as an alternative to obtaining their full cycle endorsement, taking advantage of the loophole in the law to avoid taking required testing or training.
“This bill will help prevent abuse of the current motorcycle permitting process, ultimately ensuring more motorcyclists are trained to operate their vehicles in the safest manner possible,” the governor said.
NEW HAMPSHIRE SUPREME COURT UPHOLDS ANTI-POLICE LICENSE PLATE
The high court in the “Live Free or Die” state has ruled in favor of free speech on a personalized license plate that reads; “COPSLIE”.
David Montenegro forced the issue by suing the New Hampshire Division of Motor Vehicles (DMV) when it refused to accept his request filed four years ago for the personalized plate.
“A reasonable person would find COPSLIE offensive to good taste,” a May 12, 2010 DMV ruling explained.
Montenegro filed for reconsideration and received the same response, so in August that year he decided to apply, in order, for COPSLIE, GR8GOVT, LUVGOVT, GOVTSUX, SEALPAC and GOVTLAZ. The pro-government license plate, GR8GOVT, was immediately approved. He used the approval of one message over another as evidence that his state and federal constitutional right to free speech was being trampled.
The state supreme court framed the question as an issue of private speech, the plate’s message, on government-owned property, the license plate itself. The justices agreed with Montenegro that the regulation cited by the DMV was unconstitutionally vague because it was left up to the whim of employees to decide what messages were acceptable.
Check out the expanded 5-Ball Racing apparel line.
BIG-TIME NCOM CONVENTION IN BIG-D
Everything’s bigger in Texas, and the Lone Star state recently hosted one of the largest gatherings of bikers’ rights activists in the world as concerned riders from across the country attended the National Coalition of Motorcyclists annual NCOM Convention in Dallas. This yearly “coming together” of various segments of motorcycling, from M/Cs to MROs and from Christian clubs to sportbike riders, was hosted by the Texas Confederation of Clubs and welcomed all motorcyclists to attend various meetings and seminars on legal and legislative issues affecting today’s motorcyclists.
For nearly three decades, over Mother’s Day weekend the NCOM Convention has provided a platform for diverse factions of the motorcycle community to come together in unity and cooperation in pursuit of shared interests for the betterment of biking. Topics included Biker Anti-Discrimination and Profiling Legislation; Protecting Your Patch; the Legality of Motorcycle-Only Checkpoints; Know Your Rights during a Police Encounter; Freedom of the Road and Use of the Courts; as well as seminars on the Use of Social Media, Incorporate Or Not, the Art of Grant Writing, and featuring the Golden Hour – How to Save a Biker’s Life by EMT Instructor Slider Gilmore.
Special Meetings were on the agenda in support of NCOM’s many outreach programs for Women In Motorcycling; Clean and Sober Roundtable; National Sport Bike Association (NSBA); and Christian Unity Conference, in addition to the Confederation of Clubs General Patch Holders Meeting.
“It wasn’t our biggest Convention ever, but I’m thrilled with the progress made here this weekend and proud to see the unity behind the SAVE THE PATCH effort to support the Mongols Motorcycle Club in their court battle to prevent authorities from seizing their club colors…which would endanger every clubs’ rights to wear a patch,” said NCOM Founder Richard M. Lester.
During the Silver Spoke Awards Banquet, several honorees were recognized for their contributions to “Improving The Image of Motorcycling”, including; GOVERNMENT: Jerry Patterson, running for Lt. Governor of Texas; MEDIA: Darrell and Cheryl Briggs – Oklahoma Biker Magazine; COMMERCE: Steve Menneto – CEO of new Indian Motorcycle; LEGAL: Ray Pacia – AIM Attorney for Rhode Island; ENTERTAINMENT: Stan Ellsworth – “American Ride” BYU-TV history series; ICOM INTERNATIONAL AWARD: Michael Mosia – Motorcycle Movement of Quebec; SPECIAL RECOGNITION: 2 Million Bikers to DC; and NCOM’s highest honor, the Ron Roloff Lifetime Achievement Award, was presented to Bobbi Hartmann, Member of the NCOM Legislative Task Force and former MMA of AZ Lobbyist.
Next year’s 30th Annual NCOM Convention will be held May 7-10, 2015 at the Denver Marriott Tech Center in Denver, Colorado. For further information, contact NCOM at (800) ON-A-BIKE or visit www.ON-A-BIKE.com.
SAVE THE PATCH
“Bikers from around the nation are joining forces to support the Mongols Motorcycle Club to combat a lawsuit by federal authorities to take control of the Mongols trademarked logo,” states a National CALL TO ACTION issued recently by the US Defenders National Office.
“They are trying to destroy the right of men to associate and indicate their association” said Joe Yanny, an attorney representing the Mongols. In addition to being a violation of club members’ freedom of speech rights, Yanny said, “more importantly, it’s a due process issue.”
If the Feds win this case and set a new precedent then no trademarked logo will be safe from being taken away.
In announcing that Texas clubs are “rallying for the Mongols and their legal representation,” the CTA asks others to “join the fight to support the Mongols Nation with its trademark battle with the Feds” by educating yourself on this case by going to: http://usdefender.net/cta-tdf.html and go “LIKE” the National US Defenders Facebook page for future updates.
To donate to the Mongols Nation Lawsuit Defense Fund (“100% or every red cent goes directly to the Trademark Fund”) send donations to: Joseph Yanny, Law Office of Yanny and Smith, 1801 Century Park East Suite 2400, Los Angeles, CA 90067
“We have no other fight as important as this fight to help the Mongols MC Nation win this case, the US Defenders will do all we can to assist them in every State,” US Defenders National Office.
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QUOTABLE QUOTE: “They’ve (bikers) got the same rights as anybody. The day it becomes a crime to ride a motorbike down the street, by God that’ll be a sad day for all of us.”
Capt Bingham addressing his police officers in the 1968 movie “Angels From Hell”
Further Adventures of the Borderland Biker -Chapter 15
By Bandit |
Editor’s note: The following story is from the book, “The Further Adventures of The Borderland Biker, In Memory of Indian Larry and Doo Wop Music,” by Derrel Whitemeyer.
For Chapter 14 Click Here
“Bilbo would often say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. It’s a dangerous business going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
__Frodo Baggins from THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING by: J.R.R. Tolkien
“The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dropped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.”__Lewis Carroll from ALICE IN WONDERLAND
“To ask what time IT is, is to ask what time IS. To ask what time is, is to ask what part… the beginning…the middle…or the end…of the string is BEING the string now. To ask what part it’s being, is to ask what part… the upstream…the part flowing in front of you…or the part down downstream…of the river is being the river NOW.”
__Charon from THE BORDERLAND BIKER
“I saw eternity the other night,
Like a great ring of pure and endless light,
All calm, as it was bright;
And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years,
Driv’n by the spheres
Like a vast shadow mov’d; in which the world
And all her train were hurl’d…”
Henry Vaughan from I SAW ETERNITY THE OTHER NIGHT
The ride to Ma n’ Pa’s house from where we’d left Bartlett, once the size of a car but now back to normal spider size, at the wisteria covered wooden fence took ten minutes.
“Check the front door;” said Larry, “I’ll check in back.”
Larry and I parked our bikes then went our separate ways. Climbing the steps reminded me of when I was a little kid walking up to the pink door of our neighbor Mrs. Floyd to go trick or treating. A couple of knocks, no response…a couple of…“Is anybody in there?”…no response…and then I saw the note folded in the door jam. It was from Hilts.
“Go ahead and read it,” Larry had walked around from the back of the house.”
It had been written on the back of a brown paper bag.
“My flight to rescue Ma n’ Pa was to say the least harrowing; and I’ll tell you about it later. And yes, just don’t ask me how, they both knew you’d be here and told me to leave you this note outlining the problem we face. In essence the problem is Ma n’ Pa were able to reboot their Borderland but it split into four sections. Each section is now separated by, for want of a better term, normal space-time. I need you to reconnect them. Think of it as making a Venn diagram with four circles by connecting them with a common element. By listening to the songs being played by the Styx Diner’s jukebox on your ear radios then riding between the sections you’ll become the needle attached to the musical thread, the common element that’ll join them. You’ll be able to find the exits and entries between sections and normal space-time by following the Road. The exits and entries will sometimes move but by listening to the Jukebox’s music you’ll be able to find them. Following the Road will allow you to pass between the four sections of Ma n’ Pa’s Borderland and normal space-time. The sound and clarity of the music will increase or decrease depending on how close or how far away you are from entries and exits. Turning your head will tell you from what side the signal is strongest. Riding from one section to the other, while listening to the music, will thread that common element.
“I’m with Ma n’ Pa in the section furthest from you; we’re here at the Styx Diner. Ma n’ Pa feel it’s important that the JukeBox be protected; I’m helping Pa set up a failsafe defense so it’ll never be vulnerable again. As soon as I’m done I’ll come back to Ma n’ Pa’s place and retrace your path. It shouldn’t be that hard to find you. I may even be able to find a way for Charon to come with me. Get some rest if you can then go back to where you entered this Borderland. From there turn on your ear radios and follow the music coming from the Styx Diner; you’ll be following the Road. Ride in the direction it’s strongest. You’ll know you’ve passed out of the Borderland and into normal space time because the signal will begin to diminish in strength. Keep going. You’ll know you’re still following the Road because the signal will begin to increase in strength the closer you get to the next section of the Borderland.”
__HILTS
“We’ll leave at twilight…no later,” said Larry. “We need the time until then to gather whatever we may need. Ma n’ Pa would’ve anticipated us scrounging around for those things. In fact we’ll probably find most of them inside their house. The door’s unlocked; let’s see if I’m right.”
Ma n’ Pa’s house was as I remembered, from its fireplace to its surreal furniture. At the foot of the fireplace were two small backpacks. Larry picked up the nearest, opened it and reached inside.
“My size, somehow I knew I’d pick the right one,” said Larry as he held out a hooded sweatshirt.
Clothing, flashlights, first-aid kits, no weapons; the backpacks were similarly packed with the same items.
“I’m leaving my Raider; Hilts will need it. We’ll ride double on yours. If we find another bike on the way I’ll borrow it. In the meantime I suggest we use the remaining time to get some rest. We’ve both been running on fumes and there’s no telling when we’ll get another chance.”
We’d overslept and it wasn’t until after sunset we were finally ready to leave. With the exception of the three quart bottles of Elisa’s magical coffee and the dreamcatcher, our backpacks were filled as we’d found them. Larry left the keys in his Raider and was in the process of finishing a short note telling Hilts the direction we were headed.
“He’ll track us but this note will help,” said Larry as he taped the note to his gas tank.
“Any traveling we do, especially through normal space-time, should be done at night. On the plus side we’ll encounter less people, less people hopefully less problems. I’ll co-pilot. I’m not expecting any problems so I won’t say ride shotgun.”
Closing the front door to Ma n’ Pa’s house, Larry then descended the front steps and climbed onto the back of the Raider. A tap on my shoulder to get us moving and within seconds I was riding out of the driveway and onto the garden path that would lead us back to where we’d first entered the Borderland.
The sky was cloudless and the constellations somewhat different in shape and position from what I learned to recognize in my youth. Because the sky was cloudless a near full moon provided more than enough light for me to find my way back to the wooden fence where we’d left Bartlett. The wisteria blossoms were gone, as I somehow knew they would be, as well as any sign of Bartlett. Any sign of a web had also disappeared.
Larry laughed, “Like the man says, location, location, location. Bartlett’s most likely moved somewhere else in the garden where the blossoms last longer and there’s more insect activity; he’s a survivor, he’ll be ok.
“Hilts said we should begin listening to our ear radios from where we first came into this Borderland. He said from there the signal would lead us to ‘the’ ROAD and across into normal space time. If we retrace out route from here to the where we came out of the tunnel we should be there in less than ten minutes.”
The ride back to the tunnel brought back pleasant memories of when Larry and I helped Pa tend the surrounding orchards. Memories of helping prune and harvest those orchards, now bathed in moonlight, made me look forward to meeting up with Ma n’ Pa.
“Things have changed more than I expected.” said Larry after I’d parked and he’d gotten off the back of the Raider. “I wasn’t surprised the wisteria blossoms had faded or that Bartlett had moved to where there were other flowers in bloom. I just wasn’t expecting this.”
What neither Larry or I were expecting to see was the tunnel that led to the hundred and fifty foot hole that led up to Bartlett’s Borderland was now just the overgrown ruins of an old rock silo.
“Turn your ear radio on. The path continues on through the orchards. The signal’s strong in mine; if it gets stronger we’ll know this path’s heading where this Borderland crosses over into normal space-time. What’s happened here is probably similar to what happened back at the wooden fence where Bartlett had his web in the wisteria. Ma can explain it, I can’t. We need to get going.”
Turning on my ear radio brought the song “Oh Rose Maria” by the Fascinators in loud and clear. Two minutes on the path brought the signal in even clearer. We were riding in the right direction.
Fifteen more minutes of following the path and the orchards ended with the path intersecting a small two lane road. The road was paved and bordered by old oaks and split-rail fences on both sides. Some of the oaks had overhanging branches that reached out and over the road.
“It’s potholed;” said Larry a few minutes later pointing at the road, “plus the signal’s been getting weaker since we left the path through the orchards and started down this road, which means we’ve left the Borderland.”
“It may be getting weaker,” I said, “but it’s still clear in the direction we’re going. We’re on the right road.”
[page break]
Sometimes we find a somewhere ROAD;
you’ve seen it so have I…
It’s the one we almost take,
it’s the turn we almost make…
It’s the road we ride on by…
Maybe it’s a farm road
forgotten when the farm was sold
to make way for an Interstate…
now hidden that the brush took hold…
Or maybe it’s an unseen road
of brick, stone or well worn grass
behind the fence,
beyond the gate we always pass…
Now Larry and I were on that ROAD
we’d stopped to stare at the
trees,
old oaks with sculptured trunks and limbs
that whisper with their
leaves…
One looked down with gnarled frown
and spoke using the wind for its
breath…
“You’ve nothing to fear of the ROAD if you’re selfless…
For the selfish there’s pain and then death…
You’re wise to have entered it here…
Its twists and its turns are confusing…
Just be ‘GOOD’ and its way will be clear…”
With that the old tree bent back from the ground,
its branches a whooshing the air
and asked of the wind that joins all that’s been
safe passage for us with this prayer…
“Wind weave your song as these two travel
on;
be their guide wherever they go…
May their journey be blest and their faith never fail…
May their will and their spirit be
strong…”
Shadows danced with the moonlight
as the breeze played their favorite song;
and grays became black where they chose to creep DOWN
from the trees to the leaves on the GROUND…
We needed to go so I rocked off the stand;
as our Raider rumbled to life…
A last look around and then we were GONE
down the ROAD so few have ever been ON…
We’re chasing the dream that to many may seem
like chasing the LIGHT
that brings DAWN…
We continued to ride through the night, through and around small towns and villages. We’d stop at truck stops for a quick cup of coffee and to get gas and then move on following the signal being broadcast from the Jukebox at the Styx Diner. The signal had stopped getting fainter and was slowly getting stronger. The signal getting stronger meant we were heading in the right direction. The question was would we have enough time to follow it to a crossover that would allow us to enter another section of Ma n’ Pa’s Borderland before dawn. Already the sky was beginning to lighten.
“The signal’s getting stronger,” I said after listening to the last of the song “Book of Love” by The Monotones, “but no where near the strength it was when we crossed over from the last section of Borderland. We need to find a place to hole-up.”
“We passed an abandoned water tower,” replied Larry, “a few miles back. It’s isolated and off the road and there are no nearby houses. We may not find a better place to hole-up for the day. I move we go back there.”
“I second the motion. The last thing we want is to be scrambling for shelter.”
In the time it took us to turn around and ride back to the water tower the sky had already lightened enough for me to see the surrounding area. Next to some adjacent sheds and nearby fields the water tower had been converted for storage and then abandoned. Farm equipment and tools had once been stored inside with a ladder leading up into what had once been the water tank. Its top was leaning inward.
Larry gazed around the inside walls, “I’ve seen water towers like this converted into small houses. This one hasn’t seen water in years and from the look of things hasn’t been used for storing equipment in quite awhile. Although it looks like someone stored something under a canvas tarp.”
Naturally I had to walk over and see what was under it, “It’s a gray Yamaha Road Warrior.”
“Something old, something new,” laughed Larry, “something borrowed, something blue…gray will do.”
‘Why We Ride’ – Movie Review
By Bandit |
Screening at the Petersen Museum Wilshire Blvd, Los Angeles
This movie made itself. Born from the inspiration of documenting the legacy of Ed Kretz it took on a life of its own. Why We Ride wasn’t funded by a conglomeration of sponsors all vying for product placement screen time. It was funded by a group of private investors. The Director and camera crew literally started day one shooting at the Sturgis motorcycle rally with no prior contacts or scripts. Soon, the project had its own momentum, its own direction. The cast of interviewees is a who’s who of two wheels and the scope of this film spans decades of motorcycle history from Americas first motorcycles, minibikes to motocross. In the end, the movie is self distributed; it’s not controlled by a big studio and can’t be shelved for the next zombie or vampire fad.
Yes, Producer Bryan H. Carroll has film credits that range from Predator, Die Hard, Collateral, Titanic to name just a few. Yes, he had a dynamic production and editorial team. Yes, the cinematography is gorgeous and Why We Ride is insightful, humorous, touching and inspiring so I guess those guys get some credit. It embraces all things two wheels and captures the spirit through compelling cinematography and deep personal insight.
The screening at the Petersen museum was apropos. Steeped in automotive history the Petersen collection stirs the soul. Personal transportation means personal freedom and that’s why we ride. My advice is when you see this film, bring a friend, a non riding friend. No sense in preaching to the choir, let someone else experience what you already know. The power of cinema allows viewers to experience a world unknown, to break down preconceptions and to inspire. You ride; you get it, share the passion and let Why We Ride inspire others to join our family.
The film closes interviewing Dave Barr. He may not be the person you’d picture as an avid motorcyclist, but he certainly is that. In 1981, Dave lost both of his legs in a landmine explosion while serving in Angola. Since that time, Barr has become an inspiration to people facing physical challenges as well as those who are not. He’s ridden around the world, across Russia in the dead of the Siberian winter, and to the four farthest points of Australia. He couldn’t traverse the Russian terrain during summer, because of the mud so winter was his only option. In riding 9000 miles through Russia for the Guinness World book Barr learned how to ride ice roads.
“By pulling in the clutch and revving the engine the spinning centrifugal force of the big Harley knucklehead engine helped keep the bike upright while all traction is lost.” stated Barr.
He’s written books, produced documentaries, earned two Guinness World Records and established Patriot Express, a foundation that supports Fisher House in its mission to assist military servicemen and their families during hospitalization and unexpected injury or illness. Inducted into Sturgis Hall of Fame in 2012 David is an inspirational speaker. Go to his website and if he is speaking anywhere, go see him. http://www.davebarr.com/
I really loved his closing lines in the film.
“I remember my daughter telling me not long ago ‘dad I’ve got to ride the motorcycle with you, so when you get old I can ride with you on the back’. I took her for her first ride, maybe she takes me for my last.”
“The one thing I can tell you having lived the life I have is that ‘tomorrow my friend, is promised to no one.” Dave Barr.
AUSTERE QUAIL MOTORSPORTS GATHERING
By Bandit |
Inspired by the “Quail Motorsports Gathering” sparkling on the grass in Half Moon Bay since 2003, the Quail Motorcycle Gathering takes the same high end approach to antique and unique motorcycles that the Quail Motorsports Gathering has to high end performance and antique cars.
Although the $75.00 per person entry fee sounds steep, it pales in comparison to the $500 per ticket Motorsports entrance charge but the venue and amenities do not disappoint.
The show consisted of my estimate of 300 unique and historical bikes. I was especially drawn to the “Bonneville Salt Flats” exhibit featuring an impressive group of record holding streamliners with names like Chris Carr and Denis Manning as well as record holding bikes in many categories.
Rare and beautiful bikes such as the Brough Superior SS 100 (serial number 001 on top of it!) and the Bike behind the world’s most famous motorcycle photo, “Rollie free at speed” laying prostrate on his Black shadow nearly naked with the exception of his briefs an a streamlined helmet screaming across the Bonneville Salt Flats at 150 MPH were on display.
Vendors and sponsors ringed the 3-acre fairway graced with manicured grass and divided by categories from custom bikes to American, European, and Japanese, scooters, race bikes an more. Owners of these rare and historically important bikes often sat in lawn chairs next to their display ready to answer questions and chat about their vast knowledge of the bikes.
A top-notch BBQ lunch was served to all who attended and live but not overpowering music played throughout the one-day event.
The event was preceded on Friday by the Quail motorcycle ride which traversed 103 miles from the Laguna Seca raceway to the Quail Lodge and Golf Club and was ridden by over 100 of these beautiful bikes.
With passionate and dedicated restorers and historical preservationists covering the grounds, The Quail Motorcycle gathering was rich grounds for learning, admiring, and enjoying the beautiful Monterey spring.
Until next time,
–Tail Gunner
Humans might be the one problem Google can’t solve
By Bandit |
What Is An Electric Car?
An electric car is powered by an electric motor instead of a gasoline engine. The electric motor gets energy from a controller, which regulates the amount of power—based on the driver’s use of an accelerator pedal. The electric car (sometimes called an electric vehicle) uses energy stored in its rechargeable batteries, which are recharged by common household electricity.
Unlike a hybrid car—which runs on a combination of gasoline and electricity—an electric car (also known as a battery-electric vehicle or BEV, often shortened to simply EV) is powered exclusively by electricity. Historically, EVs have not been widely adopted because of limited driving range before needing to be recharged, long recharging times, and a lack of commitment by automakers to produce and market electric cars that have all the creature comforts of gas-powered cars. That’s changing.
As battery technology improves—simultaneously increasing energy storage and reducing the cost of batteries—major automakers are expected to begin introducing a new generation of electric cars. Read rest of article here.
(Article by Kris, www.hybridcars.com)
For the past four years, Google has been working on self-driving cars with a mechanism to return control of the steering wheel to the driver in case of emergency. But Google’s brightest minds now say they can’t make that handoff work anytime soon.
Their answer? Take the driver completely out of the driving.
The company has begun building a fleet of 100 experimental electric-powered vehicles that will dispense with all the standard controls found in modern automobiles. The two-seat vehicle looks a bit like the ultracompact Fiat 500 or the Mercedes-Benz Smart car if you take out the steering wheel, gas pedal, brake and gear shift. The only things the driver controls is a red “e-stop” button for panic stops and a separate start button.
Continue reading article.
(Article by John Markoff, www.nytimes.com)
What the Future Holds: What happens when driverless cars break the Law??
Is This A Good use for Smart phone App?
The car would be summoned with a smartphone application. It would pick up a passenger and automatically drive to a destination selected on the smartphone app, and without any human intervention.
Google today announced its own design for self-driving cars, which will drive people around without a steering wheel or pedals. It’s the latest project from Google X, the company’s skunkworks group headed by Google co-founder Sergey Brin.
TWO PEOPLE, NO DRIVERS
The company has already shown off its own self-driving technology, which retrofits existing vehicles made by Toyota and Lexus. However this new version, which was announced by Brin at the Recode conference, is a new design that fits two people, and is driven entirely by computer using a variety of on-board computers and sensors.
Google says the program is currently in a prototype phase, but that it plans to build around 100 early versions of the vehicles for testing this summer. Those cars, which are reminiscent of a Fiat 500 mixed with Playmobil toys, will initially include manual controls in case something goes wrong, just like the company’s current self-driving car program. After a pilot program in California, Google says it will develop a broader program with the help of partners, presumably for commercial use. Read More.
(Article by Josh Lowensohn, www.theverge.com)
This is the first built-from-scratch-in-Detroit self-driving car. The battery-powered electric vehicle has as a stop-go button, but no steering wheel or pedals. The plan is to build around 200 of the mostly-plastic cars over the next year, with road testing probably restricted to California for the next year or two. Compared to the fairly aggressive stance of other notable EVs, like the Tesla Model S or Toyota Prius, Google’s new self-driving car is incredibly cutesy, closely resembling a Little Tikes plastic car — there’s even the same damn smiley face on the front. The cutesy appearance is undoubtedly a clever move to reduce apprehension towards the safety or long-term effects of autonomous vehicles — “Aw, how can something so cute be dangerous?”
(Article by Sebastian Anthony, www.extremetech.com)
Removing everything except for a stop-go button might sound like a good idea, but it’s naive.
How do you move the car a few feet, so someone can get out, or for backing up to a trailer?
Will Google’s software allow for temporary double parking, or off-road for a concert or party?
Can you choose which parking spot the car will use, to leave the better/closer parking spots for your doddery grandfather?
How will these cars handle the very “human” problems of giving way for other cars and pedestrians?
Can you program the car to give way to a hot girl, but not an angry-looking trucker?
(By Sebastian Anthony, www.extremetech.com)
Electric Car Charging Stations: The electric car needs a new system for recharging and therefore a whole new grid of stations. The following map gives some idea of the current stations available. Will the Gas Station soon be obsolete?
Click here to see map
(Google maps)
(Google maps)
S.O.A. apparently means ‘Sneakers Only, Asshole!’
By Bandit |
Come on…at 60 I just have a tough time with the whole sneaker thing, in general. What the hell is with these television “motorcycle club members” riding in them? White sneakers, no less. When I got into this whole bike thing it was BOOTS ONLY! We did not wear wingtips, oxfords, sandals, “Flip Flops”, high heels, flats, pumps, Penny Loafers, and certainly NOT sneakers when we rode. We wore manly footwear. And it was NEVER WHITE! Never, ever!
Now, I do confess that when I drank heavy and lived at the beach in San Clemente, I might have ridden bearfoot and with no shirt. Ok, truth be told I was so bad that the bar I drank at would keep a t-shirt under the bar for when I came in (the Bird Cage was a great bar). No shirt, no service. Now that I am older and…well, older…I know that there is no excuse for not wearing the proper footwear when you ride. I was guilty, sure, but I can say I never ever wore tennis shoes in my riding life. My life long friends can tell ya: Barefoot before sneakers!
This was the result of wearing flip flops while riding….
It just kills me to see these young riders with bright (and by bright I mean blinding) white sneakers while they ride. It has gotten to where I cringe at the sight of them. I have to wonder what they are thinking. It just never even crossed my mind to hit the road with anything white on my feet, let alone tennis shoes. I can not, for the life of me, remember exactly when or where the “boot bug” bit me. I just know I will not ride without them now. Maybe it stems from when my brother Sam got hit on his Knuck. When he got to the hospital they cut off his boot. I will never forget the way they just hacked that nice boot off his crushed foot. We both felt bad for the loss of a nice boot but my brother was glad he had them babies on. It sure saved his foot. It was crushed but all there. After that I learned to love my boots. I am almost never without them on my feet. I can not count the times my feet have been saved by those old boots.
When the bucks flow I have two pairs: One steel toe set for riding and one non-steel toe pair for dancing. I wish this young crowd would look up to and learn from the older riders. But, these young cats think they know EVERYTHING! Even if you tried to tip them for their own sake, they would have hundreds of excuses about how and why their chinese-made sweat shop tennis shoes are soooooooooooo much better for riding than a pair of American-made steel toe boots. I guess when you have to shoot it out with cops and various gangbangers on your way to lunch, then dash from your club meeting to a meeting with the Feds to rat everyone out, lightweight footware would come in handy.
Yes, you read it correctly! Sandals for bike riders – don’t try this at home folks!
My old friend DH Denny has been riding as long as I have. I have a hell of alot of respect for this old badger. He also never rides without boots. I have to wonder if it is just an “old guy” thing. When I was young I looked up to the real men who rode in those days. It seems all these younger guys want to look to for examples is a bunch of actors who play motorcycle club members on television. At the risk of sounding like a broken record: THERE IS NO SONS OF ANARCHY. THERE IS NO CHARMING, CALIFORNIA. IT IS NOT REAL LIFE. THEY ARE NOT REAL BIKERS.
I have given up even trying to show these kids the errors of their ways. I guess they have to lose a foot or two to learn. If they took the time to look at the pictures of the true old school riders, they would see that even they wore boots. The women, too. I met an 80 year old woman who still rode her Indian….IN BOOTS. She had been riding longer that I have been alive.
All SOA bashing aside, I would encourage the young riders to put boots on when they ride. The shit could get deep quick and you could lose a foot. Besides, you never know when you might need to kick a field goal with some chumps head to save your own. Then you will thank me for telling you not to wear your Hush Puppies. You want your boots on when the whip comes down, trust me. Do what you want, I will be wearing mine. Sneakers On Algie? Never!
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