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TEN QUESTIONS FOR KENNY PRICE!

SAMSON RELOCATES TO STURGIS, SD

 
 
 
 Bikernet Baggers asked Kenny Price ten questions!
 
Q. If a guy is thinking about relocation his company, give us the pros and cons?

A. On one hand relocating my business to the Black Hills of South Dakota was the toughest decision I have had to make so far while in business, but on the other hand it was an easy one. The idea of living and working in the Black Hills was very appealing. The summers are a dream come true for motorcycle riders. The winters are usually semi mild in nature most of the time. Cold but tolerable. Riding in January is common when a blustery warm 60 degree day brings out tons of motorcycles out early from winter hibernation. There are a lot of riders living in the Black Hills. Most of them are transplants from a different area just like myself. The biggest problem we have here so far is getting settled in. You don’t realize the amount of junk you accumulate until it gets packed up and moved to a new place where you have to unpack it all and find a place for it. I found stuff that had been packed up from a move back in the 90’s. We wondered whatever happened to this or that until all of a sudden there it is packed nicely in a box you remember setting aside for safe keeping. In some cases safe-keeping was a little too safe. It’s a little like receiving a present. For the most part I would say that moving to the Black Hills was somewhat of a present in itself.

 

Q. On a cold winter nights do you miss California?

 A. Ahhh, the cold winter nights. As long as you don’t spend a lot of time outdoors cold winter nights are easy. As I write this in November in California we are experiencing summer like conditions with the temperature in the 80’s at the beach. Do I miss this weather? Yes. It’s weather like this what makes so many people want to come to California in the first place. Riding at night without a jacket is unbelievable with the night air hitting your face. It’s like heaven to me. But riding in the Black Hills is also heaven for me so if I was to choose which place has the best riding quality it is the Black hills. For the quantity of riding it’s California.

 

Q. Is South Dakota/Sturgis  helpful to new businesses wanting to relocate?

A. South Dakota has no state income tax! To me that is a big deal. This is a great help when it comes to your bottom line. South Dakota is also giving some great incentives to move your business. They are very helpful and anxious to help in many ways. The economic development department in Sturgis is also very helpful. Anyone who has a good business and wants to relocate to the Sturgis Industrial Park (Yes, we have an Industrial Park) may be given land on which to build. This is huge cost reduction or us that are looking for a reduced cost of relocating. There are many other incentives available for those who want to move here.

 

Q. Do you need staff, tell us about any positions you need to fill?

A. When we moved we expected some of our employees to come with us. Some did which is a big help. They helped train others to do what we do best and are very valuable personnel. The knowledge they have to share is very appreciated. One of the things I considered before moving here was the availability of qualified employees. The general status of work ethic in the area is very good. People just want to do a good job if you let them. The willingness to learn a new skill and to share the skills they have make it wonderful environment.

 

Q. What changes did you make to Samson during the new set-up?

A. Changes made for the new facility were well planned out ahead of time. Implementing cell manufacturing techniques help the flow of product through the manufacturing process very smooth. Our building is a “purpose built” facility we planned from day one to be just that, a manufacturing facility. The manufacturing floor is laid out for product to flow in the same direction constantly allowing ease of manufacturing. All product flows toward the back door for shipping purposes. This is something we didn’t have at the previous facility.

 Q How does your daughter feel about the move? That’s really the most important question.

A. Although my daughter, Rachel, was apprehensive of the move, which would uproot her from her comfort zone, she has been invaluable in the course of the move. There are some things that are much more valuable than money that’s for sure.

Q. Tell us about the new building and the benefits to Samson customers!

Sturgis is a town centrally located in the U.S. so shipping our product to either shore makes our product readily available to everyone no matter where you live. Sturgis, the “City of Riders” is a Mecca of motorcycle enthusiasts where new product can be developed with a lot of input from the motorcycle community. Shipping is easy with UPS just a half block away and freight services in nearby Rapid City.

 

Q. So what’s exciting for 2014 from Samson?

 A. 2014 will be the year of another breakout for Samson. Look for us to set some exciting new trends.

Q. So you went to Harvard business school, studied Feng Shui in California, and now you read the stars over the Black Hills. Tell us, oh wise one, what’s up for custom motorcycles for 2014?

 A. Who would have ever thought I would be a graduate of Harvard Business School? Much less even being able to attend such a prestigious school in the first place. It’s the luck of the draw I suppose. I’m not so sure about the Fung Shui thing at all since I still leave the toilet seat up most of the time. What I see from the moon and stars of the Black Hills for the motorcycle industry in 2014 is a great year for everyone. New cutting edge products, more disposable income for everyone, and a warmer climate to ride farther, smoother, longer, and uncut.

 

 

 

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Lady Road Dog Presents the Steel Horse Sisterhood Summit

 
 
Great Bend, KS – Lady Road Dog, aka Joan Krenning, CEO of DesignWraps Brands is proud to announce the first all woman’s summit for women riders on Friday, May 2-Sunday May 4, 2014.
 
Located near the spectacular scenic surrounds of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, the Steel Horse Sisterhood Summit is a 3 day event specifically designed to broaden the skills, knowledge and experiences of women motorcycle riders across the globe.
 
Held at the Sheraton Denver South (special discount rooms available by calling 303-799-6200), it is a chance to forge more than just strong friendships — it is an opportunity to come together as a Sisterhood; to be part of the largest directory of information for women riders AND to raise money for charity groups — Helping with Horsepower, Ride for Kids and Grace After Fire.
 
 
 
Bringing industry professionals, manufacturers and designers together, this Summit provides a platform for women riders to have a voice; to dictate what they would like to see in future designs, to describe how they believe a ride should feel and to allow women riders everywhere to connect in a way that has never been done before.
 
Hear incredible stories from women such as:
 
Laura Klock —VP, Klock Werks Kustom Cycles — Co-Founder, Helping With Horsepower, AMA and SCTA National Land Speed Records from the Bonneville Salt Flats
 
Jessi Combs- All Girl Garage — FIA Women’s Land-Speed Record Holder
 
Genevieve Schmitt– Founder / Editor WomenRidersNow
 
Eldonna Lewis Fernandez– MSgt USAF Retired — Founder, PinkBikerChic  and Author, ThinkLikeANegotiator
 
Lisa Brower– Biker Executive at Full Throttle Living
 
Joan Krenning– LadyRoadDog — Founder & CEO of DesignWraps Brands
 
BE ENCOURAGED
By the stories of overcoming insurmountable odds
Linda Dalton
Ellie Rains
Andie Gaskins and many, many more.
 
BE EDUCATED
Attend classes and seminars such as:
• Motorcycle maintenance
• Exercise and nutrition tips for riders
• Packing efficiently and effectively for road trips
• Rider skills training
• Personal safety, protection and self defense whilst on your bike and solo on the road
 
PLUS…receive industry specific specialty advice in relation to finding the right wheels, exhausts, seats, windshields and anything else related to making your motorcycle the safest and most comfortable to suit you and your riding style.
 
BE CONNECTED
Join the fastest growing directory of women riders across the United States. The Steel Horse Sisterhood is about never being alone — even when out riding solo
 
• Attend our Friday night Sisterhood Social Meet ‘n’ Greet with Hors d’oeuvres
• Your registration price keeps you informed with monthly industry news and announcements
• Share riding and personal stories and experiences with other attendees
 
BE PAMPERED and ENTERTAINED
• Receive “star” treatment on the Red Carpet
• Have your bike hand washed by Local Firefighters
• Enjoy seeing your very own personal caricatures drawn
• Relax in the SHS Spa and Massage Room
• Re-energize and re-focus during the SHS Yoga Sessions
• Receive Summit Surprises upon check in
 
BE THERE!
The Steel Horse Sisterhood Summit includes participation in the Largest Women’s Led
Motorcycle Ride in History — all in the name of supporting the Sisterhood AND Charity.
 
Your registration costs include donations to the following charities: Helping with Horsepower, Ride for Kids and Grace After Fire. On behalf of each of them, thank you for your generosity.
 
For all Summit information, including volunteering opportunities, vendor and sponsor inquiries, please contact:
 
the Steel Horse Sisterhood Event Planning Team at 877-700-4687 ext.1
 
To register for the Summit click on picture below:
 
 
 
(Click on logos to visit their website) 
 
 
 
 
 
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LITTLE RIVER DRAGS IN TEXAS

 
 
For over 30 years there have been Harleys running at Little River Raceway just outside of Temple, Texas at summers end.
 
 
 
 
The past 30 years Red Roberts has held these drag races each year on Labor Day weekend, which allows for 3 days of racing fun.  You do however have to fight the Texas heat. This year it was decided to move the event to October to relieve it from the normal first of September track melting heat! 
 
 
 
 
 
And while the plan worked, the weekend also received early forecasts of rain, heavy at times.  This seemed to keep several of the fuel boys at home and unfortunately some of the attendees.  While it only rained a little on Saturday it was very brief and only caused a 20-minute delay at most.  Although Mother Nature did start to get a bit grumpier by the days end, thankfully the fuel folks that were on hand had already done their qualifying runs. 
 
 
 
Houston Hal and Metalcraft Racing took the top spot with a 4.76 at 155 mph in the 1/8th. Hal had the fastest times each pass, “Little River has been around for a while and that was all she could take”, stated Hal.  She’s a bit older and may be starting to show her age just a little.
 
 
 
I immediately noticed the stands were missing from the tower side, yet it took half the day to realize the “larger” concrete and covered stands were also missing from the other side of the track!  The midway cross over that kept you from having to go from one end to the other has been gone for years.  She is still a fun place to run!
 
 
 
 
One team brought out their Twin Engine Shovelhead powered bike, sporting a new rider for this year so there was a bit of a learning curve. It was still very cool to see and hear that girl fire up!  I continually tried to notify folks through social media that the rains had stayed away and they were missing out, but I am not sure if it helped? 
 
 
 
 
However Sunday’s racing was a washout with heavy rains before the sun was even supposed to be awake.  I guess we will have to see what next years weekend brings?
 
Till Next Time,
RFR
 
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Dave’s ‘Bad Dad-Rad’ Custom Road Glide

Dave Johnson is a genuine connoisseur of motorcycle rallies and events.  After building a custom Ultra several years ago, Dave finally decided that he wanted to build a complete ground-up custom bagger that exhibited his style while still allowing him and Jan to ride to the rallies they had grown to love.  With a loose plan in mind, Dave got together with the guys at Bad Dad to discuss the ideas for his 2007 Road Glide project.

   

 

Since Dave was planning to show the bike at every event to which he rides, Bad Dad started by completely stripping the bike down to the frame to so the frame and swing arm could be molded and smoothed out. It was important that the frame was made as smooth as possible because any flaws would be highlighted by the bike’s Kandy Tangerine paint work that would soon follow.
 
 

Dave wanted to build the best bike that he could so he used all of Bad Dad’s top-of-the-line body panels.  He set off the front end with a custom 23″ wheel and complemented it with one of Bad Dad’s 23″ FL Fenders to maintain the Touring bike’s traditional, classic look. The right-side brake caliper was shaved off the bike, the front braking system upgraded to a single 6-piston caliper, and the front end was then chromed to show off the bike’s huge front wheel.

Since Dave had already chosen a very elaborate paint scheme, he needed more real estate for his custom artwork so the bike’s gas tank was stretched with Bad Dad’s Stretched Tank Shroud and the dash replaced with Bad Dad’s Low Profile dash.  The bike’s gas tank now flows smoothly into the Stretched Side Covers which provide even more room for Dave’s custom paint.
 
The Road Glide was cleaned up even further with a set of Bad Dad’s Shaved Bags which feature Bad Dad’s patented hinge assembly for sliding open the custom lids.  The rear end of Dave’s bike was finished with one of Bad Dad’s custom rear fenders where all of the bike’s taillights were flush mounted for a completely smooth look.  Dave did not want the license plate to break the clean lines of the bike’s back end so Bad Dad’s Automatic Hide-a-Plate was used to tuck the bike’s plate inside the rear fender when the bike is turned off.

Dave also upgraded all of the accessories on his bike, including a set of Bad Dad’s Long Cut Floorboards, Brake Pedal, and Shifter Pegs.  The custom floorboards were marbleized to match the bike’s paint scheme, and then the ridges of the boards were sanded smooth to provide the billet contrast. Dave also used a set of Bad Dad’s Long Strokes Exhaust Pipes to finish off the back end of the bike.  These custom slip-on pipes extend just beyond the back edge of the Stretched Bags to show just the right amount of chrome out the rear of the bike.

Once all of the right pieces were in place, Dave’s Road Glide was rolled into Bad Dad’s spray booth where the entire bike was covered in House of Kolor’s Kandy Tangerine over an Orion Silver base. While the orange was used to really set off the bike, Dave wanted more detail shown in the paint so a marbleizing technique was used to add more character to the bike’s custom paint. A set of custom tribal graphics was then laid out from stem-to-stern.

Dave’s project was started with one purpose in mind: create an award winning bike that can be ridden anywhere. While his bike has only been finished for a few months, Dave’s Road Glide has already been awarded Best Paint at the 2011 Muskegon Bike Time and received a handful of other great awards. It looks like Dave’s bike has already achieved its purpose.

 
Click on the banner below to check out Bad Dad’s website and see more bike features, product information and inspiration for your bagger dreams.
 
 
You will find the complete Spec Sheet at the end of this story. 
  
 

Spec Sheet

General
Owner-Dave Johnson
Shop-Bad Dad
Shop Phone-260-407-2000
Website-www.baddad.com
Year/Make/Model-2007 Road Glide
Fabrication-Bad Dad
Welding-Bad Dad
Assembly-Mike Goshert, Bad Dad
Build Time- 3 months

Engine

Year/Type/Size- 2007 Harley-Davidson 96 cu in
Builder- HD
Cases-HD
Pistons- HD
Cylinders- HD
Heads-HD
Valves- HD
Rockers- HD
Rocker Boxes- HD
Pushrods- HD
Cams-HD
Lifters-HD
Throttle Body- HD
Carb-n/a
Air Cleaner-PickardUSA
EFI Controller-HD
Exhaust-Bad Dad Long Strokes
Oil Cooler-none

Transmission

Year/Type-2007 Harley-Davidson 6-speed
Case-HD
Gears-HD
Clutch-HD
Primary Drive-HD
Other Clutch/Tranny Mods-HD

Frame

Year/Type- 2007 Harley-Davidson FL
Rake-stock
Stretch- stock
Modifications – Molded

Suspension

Front –
Manufacturer- Progressive
Length- 2” Lowering Kit
Triple Trees-Hawg Halters
Rear-
Swingarm-Stock
Shocks-Legends Air Ride
Stabilizer-none

Wheels, Tires, and Brakes
Front-
Builder/Size-PickardUSA 23”
Tire/Size-Avon 130/60-23
Calipers-HHI 6-piston
Rotors- PickardUSA
Rear-
Builder/Size-PickardUSA 18”
Tire/Size-Avon 150/50-18
Caliper- HD
Rotor-PickardUSA
Pulley/Sprocket- PickardUSA

Finish/Paint-
Manufacturer-House of Kolor
Colors- Kandy Tangerine over Orion Silver
Painter- Matt Anderson, Bad Dad
Graphics- Kevin Haire & Scal Graphix
Molding-Bad Dad
Plating/Polishing-none
Powdercoating- none

Accessories
Front Fender-Bad Dad 23” Mo’ FL
Front Fender Spacers-Bad Dad
Rear Fender-Bad Dad Stretched Rear Fender
Rear Fender Fillers-Bad Dad
Gas Tank-Bad Dad Stretched Tank Shroud
Gas Tank Modifications- stretched
Dash-Bad Dad Low Profile Dash
Gauges-Dakota Digital
Handlebars-eBay
Grips-SMT
Risers-none
Mirrors-
Hand Controls/Switches-HD
Foot Controls-Bad Dad
Floorboards-Bad Dad Long Cut
Additional Footpegs-Bad Dad Long Cut
Engine Guard-HD
Passenger Pegs/Floorboards-Bad Dad Long Cut
Headlight-Bad Dad
Headlight Modifications/Add Ons- custom projector
Running Lights-Bad Dad
Taillight-Bad Dad Flush Mount
Front Turn Signals- Badlands
Rear Turn Signals-Bad Dad Flush Mount
License Mount-Bad Dad Hide-a-Plate
Seat-Danny Gray
Saddlebags-Bad Dad Shaved Bags
Saddlebags Latches-Bad Dad
Saddlebag Extensions-
Fairing/Outer-HD
Fairing/Inner-HD
Fairing Modifications-painted
Windscreen-painted
Tour Pak/Trunk-none

Tour Pak Modifications- none
Stereo-HD
Amplifier- HD
Front Speakers- HD

Rear Speakers-HD 

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Killing Machine Choppers – The Good ‘ol Days Chapter 4

 
 
One day, while we were moving some bikes out of the shop, two riders flew by on Highway 2 and locked ‘em up. They flipped a U-turn and came in the lot. It was two active duty Marines from the Inspector / Instructor staff at the Spokane Marine Corps Reserve Center.
 
One was a First Sergeant affectionately known as Bruiser and the other was a Gunnery Sergeant named Tarek which I dubbed the “Funny Gunny”. They were both riding hogs. I got to rappin’ with them and we immediately hit it off. My girlfriend the Hardtail Harlot knew all that military talk (she had once been married to a Jarhead) so she translated. We shot the shit, chewed the fat, bullshitted something fierce, had a few cold beers, and became fast friends.
 
 
After that, they would stop by from time to time to BS and say hey. We would work on and talk about bikes, and of course, they lived for giving me a hard time. They told me stories of the Corps and I told them stories of the old days and talked bike stuff. Once we got to know each other the conversations turned to what we were going to do to their bikes when the snow fell.
 
One day while we were drinking and playing catch with my girl’s dog Snoop, we got to rappin’ about how they have what is called the Marine Corps Ball. Attendance at the Ball is mandatory and the Marines’ tickets are free but if they want to bring a date, they have to pay for their date’s ticket. The tickets can be expensive. Bruiser wished out loud that he had the funds to pay for the dates of the men in his unit since these Marines had just returned from Iraq. At some point, a few beers into our conversation, the idea for a party came up. Bruiser looked at me with some doubt. He said that a party sounded fun but wondered (again out loud) how that would help. Dubbing myself ‘Captin Party’ I said, “Why not make the party a benefit and have it here at The Machine?”  So we had a few more and planned what would become a huge (and very successful) benefit bash! 
 
 
We cleaned up the grounds, got prizes, food, and beer donated, and met Mike “Psycho” Lovas who would coordinate the bands that volunteered their time.  We all became fast friends during the planning and execution of this event. A local carpenter had heard the plan to throw a party and built the bar for the event. The jarheads made a sign for the bar that said “Algies Bar Mang” making fun of my Midwest way of talking. Things were shaping up into something that looked like we just might pull it off.
 
The Bash started as a run from the Oasis Bar in Spokane and ended at Killing Machine Choppers. We had everything ready at the Machine. Just as the bikes turned off the highway I got a call from the cops. They asked if I knew that a lot of bikes just pulled into our parking lot. I told them about our party and they said, “OK, have a good one!” and hung up.  A lot of locals showed up to join the festivities and to donate to a good cause. So many generous people and local businesses gave so much to show their appreciation for our troops and it seemed that everyone won prizes in the raffle.  I thought the event did well for our first try. We were able to raise 5,000.00 bucks to give returning jarheads and their dates (covering a Tri-State area) an amazing Marine Corps Ball. 
  
We had a blast and not one bit of trouble. Well….almost no trouble. Tarek (the Funny Gunny, aka the Elbow of Death ) got into an altercation in the restroom. Hun (the Hardtail Harlot)  had a collection of Tinkerbell figurines on a shelf in the restroom. Apparently Tarek and Tinkerbell had some sort of disagreement. When Tarek emerged from the restroom it looked like he and Tink had gone 12 rounds. Poor Tink  had lost her both of her wings and one leg. To this day Tarek never told us what she (Tinkerbell) did to start that fight.
 
Other than the infamous “Fight of the Century”, everyone had the time of their lives. We had great music and a bike show. There were some clean machines there.  The Loser Yank and her husband brought up their two bikes from Port Costa, California to join in the fun and help out. We had friends from as far away as southern California in attendance and helping out. The band On Tap played music while we all played with what was On Tap at the bar. The music went on almost until daylight thanks to other musicians and jokesters jockeying for position on stage.
 
 
The camping was the best part, all you had to do was step away from the fire and pass out. It doesn’t get much better than that. Someone made some “forkless” apple pie and peach pie moonshine that was good. So good, in fact, that it was responsible for most of the fireside camping. Man those Marines can drink. Whoever coined the term “Drink like a sailor” obviously never partied with the Marines. The poor Loser Yank bit the dirt while strolling around the big tent in the dark, or was it daylight?  We’ll let Sharki tell that sorry (wink, wink). 
 
I think everyone at the Bash had sore sides (and heads) from the party. Fun was had by all locals as well as the Marines. Sharki the Loser Yank wasn’t the only one eating dirt. One of the locals had some thing go wrong, and everyone began to shout Medic!!!!!!  Out comes our new friend Psycho. He patched the local up in record time. He had come equipped  with a canvas first aid bag, I will never forget that as long as I live. The bash went on until everyone passed out. The next day we all had a fine breakfast cooked on the spot by our new found devil dog friends.
 
 
This bash was a sore spot for some, but a real big deal to the rest of us. Together we raised some funds for a great cause. It was a true team effort. Hun and I got an invite  to attend the ball. It meant the world to me but unfortunately I had to decline. Heart issues caused me to have to miss a chance of a lifetime. I was recovering from 6-way heart bypass and the doc said no drinking or dancing for a few weeks.
 
Over the years I grew close to Bruiser, Tarek (and his elbow of death ) and Psycho. I did work on these guys’ bikes (as you can see from the pictures). Tarek gifted the shop with battle flags from Fallujah and he just recently sent me a real nice knife after he caught me casting longing looks at his K- Bar.  I fell in love with his wife who I call “Sargette”. She is such a wonderful girl. They would drunk-dial Hun and I at odd hours to see how things were here on the “cell block”. When Bruiser retired we put together an award for him using a Gas Tank with bullet holes in it, in fact, one was still rolling around in it.  I had it hanging in the shop and I am not telling this story, so don’t even think about asking. 
 
Most of all I want you to know how much these guys mean to me. These are some of America’s best men. They give selflessly to keep us all safe. I loved working with them and being able to call them my friends, Mang (Alginese for Man)! Bruiser is now retired and living in Texas. He swears my dog Toby once lunged at him but we’re still friends.  I still talk to him and his beautiful wife Mary who we finally got to meet while showing Bruiser’s newly modified “Killing Machine” bike at the 100 Years of Motorcycles Rally in Spokane. They would like to open a Killing Machine South when they retire for real.  Tarek has been back to visit since moving back east. It did not take us long to fall into old habits.  I must have been having fun because I got ’86ed’ from the bar across the street from the shop. He must have had fun too because I vaguely remember standing in a puddle of warm puke in my socks trying to wake him up and tell him to come crash inside. He has since tried to convince me that it was good for my feet!
 
The benefits were such a great success and so much fun that we do one every year now. It has even evolved into motorcycle street drag races! You do not want to miss out so watch for the announcement for next year’s street drags. 
 
Poster from last years event:  
 
Keep watching for the 2014 Announcement!
 
 
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Rider Mania 2013, Goa, India

 
 
 
I still fondly remember the day and time when I bought my first Enfield back in April 2007. Until then I humped a Yamaha. Then I graduated and became a man, and rode a battle ready, World War II tested motorcycle. Enfield has indeed come a long way from its humble beginnings in Britain to a permanent home and Headquarters in Madras, India. 
 

 

Made like a Gun, Goes like a Bullet – that’s the tagline of the oldest model of a motorcycle still in production in world automotive history. I own a Bullet Electra which has the same cast-iron engine and chassis designed by the British era engineers in 1955. 
 

 

Riding is always a pleasure. Now imagine, like-minded bikers riding on the same brand of motorcycle coming from all over the nation to a single pristine beach at Goa. India has the second largest motorable road network in the world with over 3 million km of roads of which 46% are paved. Some states have made helmets compulsory while others have too many riders to keep them in check. India is geographically the seventh largest piece of land and world’s largest democracy by population. You can  imagine the craze when riders from all parts of this diverse nation ride to one location for a three day party.
 
Various groups and clubs from all over the nation registered and planned their trips in advance. They all started a day or two ahead of the target date of 22nd November. I rode with the Enfield Corporate Showroom gang at Bandra, Mumbai to Vagator Hill, Goa.
 
   
What I present to you is a feast to the eyes, heart and soul. This photo feature covers the very essence of biker spirit – a universal feeling of freedom, liberty and brotherhood. The titles of the photos are the caption for them. Thanks to Bandit and Bikernet.com gang for allowing me to give you an insight into continued biker movement from the other hemisphere of your world. 
 
 
We are all the same. Leather, tattoos, beer stains, scars, blood, iron and steel and a lot of heart. Here you get a glimpse of Bike Events in India, for all American Harley-Davidson fans to glimpse. Enfield in India is as good, great, bad, and as worse as your H-D Made in America.
 
Do leave feedback and I will be glad to answer any questions for anyone planning to go on an official Enfield Trip. They ride annually to Himalayas, to Rann of Kutch desert, to the Southern Odyssey and of course our Annual Festival to Goa: RIDER MANIA! Refer: http://royalenfield.com/rides/events/
 
 
 
Rider Mania is India’s biggest biker festival hosted by the iconic motorcycle brand Royal Enfield. Thousands of loyalists ride to Goa during the third weekend of November to challenge themselves and their machines to various tests as planned by the organizers. As the sun sets, the party starts begins…..
 
Dirt Track Race:
Separate classes for 500 cc and 350 cc 
Qualification: This will be held in the autocross format. Riders with the top 10 times will make it to the finals.
 
Finals: This will be a mass start.
 
Technical specifications for motorcycles:
 
Engine Mods: No restrictions on Engine modifications.
 
Riding Gear: Everything listed below is mandatory.
Full-face helmet, Knee & shin guards, Ankle length boots, Armored Motorcycle Jacket.
 
Tires: Only Royal Enfield OEM tires, Michelin Sirac and MRF Meteors are allowed. Any other tires including Knobby tires are not allowed.
 
 
Trials: Common event for 350 cc and 500 cc 
Event format: Every participant must complete an obstacle course without putting his leg down or going out of the prescribed track. Penalty points are awarded everytime the leg comes into contact with the ground or the wheel goes outside the track. The participant with the lowest score wins.
 
Figure of 8: This is a team event where all the team members have to complete a loop riding around a track which is in the shape of the digit 8. The idea is to complete this feat without any of the participants putting their foot down in the shortest time possible. Team size is 4 participants. Cumulative time taken by all 4 team members is the time for the team.
 
Slow Race: The rider taking the longest time to complete the track without putting his leg down or going out of his/her lane wins. A pillion rider is compulsory.
 
Carry your bike: A Rider Mania Goa special, this is the only time the bike rides on the riders. A 4 person team has to carry a Royal Enfield Motorcycle across a distance of 30 Meters. First one to cross the finishing line wins!
 
 
Cleanest bike: Need we explain? The one spotless gleaming machine chosen by the judges wins!
 
 
 
Assembly wars: A team event (4 persons per team), that requires you to remove both the wheels, Throttle/Clutch cables from the bike, then carry the same across a small track to the Judge for verification and then put them back on the bike and ride the Motorcycle over a fixed distance. First one to remove the parts, get them verified and put them back and ride the bike across wins!
 
 
Arm wrestling: This is an event where you put your muscle power against others. There are separate entries for men and women. One who pins down the opponent emerges the winner!
 
 
Most popular bike: Royal Enfield gives each of the riders present at Rider Mania 2013 a chance to Judge the Custom bikes. Each registrant will receive one Voting card and he/she can vote for the Custom bike that they feel they are most attracted to among the ones on display. That bike will be declared the Most Popular Bike and will receive a trophy. Royal Enfield invites Custom Bike builders to enter their creations for the Best Custom Bike and the Most Popular Bike contests. Royal Enfield will select 20 bikes out of the submissions and will pay a maximum of Rs. 10,000 per Motorcycle towards transportation costs.
 
 
Beer Drinking: This is the event in which you hold a pint bottle to your mouth, tilt your neck and let gravity do the rest. The rules will be decided on the spot based on the number of entries.
 
 
Other Events: Last year we had the innovative Lemon and Spoon Race which is same as the one many of us have seen earlier; to race across a small stretch holding a spoon in the mouth and a lemon placed on it. Albeit this time it is to be done on your Royal Enfield motorcycle while riding. Expect such innovative fun activities involving you and your Royal Enfield motorcycle this year too.
 
 
Exhibitions:
 
Library: Check out rare books and periodicals on Royal Enfield’s illustrious history and the line-up of models down the years. Read up on the best motorcycling magazines and journals and brush up your knowledge of the adventures of the two wheeled kinds.
 
Movies: Feast on a host of movies, videos and documentaries highlighting the fun aspect of motorcycling and the life around Royal Enfield. This audio-visual delight plays non-stop in the lounge area where you can get your dose of Royal Enfield history, tips on riding and watch the adventures on the Royal Enfield national rides happening all around the year.
 
 
Gordon G. May ~ The epic rider who rode from England to Chennai on a 1953 500cc Royal Enfield in 1988 ~ around 13500 kms !!! Sharing his experience about the Indian trip.
Read more about Gordon G. May and his trip here: http://www.overlandtoindia.co.uk/the_rider.html 
 
 
Food & Drink:
Traditional Indian spicy treats and Continental cuisine; you shall get everything under one single roof in the food court spread out at the venue. We have ensured that you get to pick and choose your favorite delights from the refreshing menu to please your palate. The huge beverage counter shall cater to your thirst all through the day as you enjoy the various events and in the evening when you just want to laze around with a drink.
 
 
Garage Sale: Are you a bargain hunter? If you love great deals, then garage sales are a great way to stretch that rupee as far as you possibly can. Look out for garage sales at this Rider Mania and get that gear you have been looking for. Great deals will be up for grabs, early birds the advantage is yours!!!!
 
 
 

Tattoo Artist:

“G” Graduated and got her BFA degree from the JJ institute of applied arts in Mumbai. She also won awards for her work in typography, graphic design and advertising campaign in her final year. 
 
“G”started her artistic endeavors as an art director at J Walter Thompson, after which she moved on to work with TV channels like channel V, Fashion TV, Sony music and radio stations such as Go.fm. She has essentially worked a lot on print media, merchandise and online. Working on several projects for MTV and Cartoon network.
 
After about 8 years of advertising she designed, manufactured and exported fashion accessories. The Rebirth of an artist-“G” As an artist its always been “G’s” quest to have a valuable experience of various mediums. She was always very intrigued by tattoo art and finally had the time to start working her gifted skill on art. She began working out of her own studio as a tattooist at Lower Parel, Mumbai 3 years ago.
 
“G” personally enjoys custom designing tattoos and creating a unique design and art which her clients can wear for a life time. Now she has set up base in her favorite place –GOA . She owns & runs her own studio out of Porvorim.
 
This Rider Mania “G” created custom tattoos especially for the festival. Hard-core motorcycle enthusiasts planning to get custom tattoos checked out “G’s” art at the venue.
 
 
Rider Mania is not just about the 3 days of events and happenings that take place at Vagator, Goa. During that weekend Vagator is buzzing with the familiar sound of Royal Enfield motorcycles and the friendly laughs and banter of biker brothers. There are many places around Hill Top which encourage these bonding sessions after the events and add to the afterlife factor. There are many places which are ‘Royal Enfield’ friendly in Goa !
 
 
Extra Bonus photos! 
 
Ujjwal Dey
 
Revolution requires unbounded ideas” ~ Raymond Hamilton
 
 
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GasAxe Chop Shop Rendition

This is an interesting one. It’s like a test. Last week, a full moon rocked the earth, like an evil spell. Girlfriends ran off, businesses folded, evil transactions unfolded, and there was general mayhem on the planet for a few days. That’s when Angie Dixon reached out to me.

“Are you going to feature our bike?” she asked. “It won the Bikernet Editor’s Choice award at the Las Vegas Bike Fest in September.”

I remembered the bike, the wild stretched monster. It spoke of choppers from the past, long sleek sexy beasts. I didn’t recognize aspects of this bike until I spoke to Tim Dixon and he started to tell me about his past and how he started a chop shop 18 years ago on the family’s dairy farm, purchased in 1944.

I’ll tell you a code about full moons and evil spirits. It could save your life. If you’re smart and you see signs of pure evil, or even disjointed actions, don’t over-react. Take a step back, drink a glass of Jack, or smoke a joint and listen to some heartfelt tunes for a couple of days. More often than not, things will sort themselves out. It’s like road rage. You could kill the sonuvabitch who cut you off and go to jail for the rest of your life, or pull into Betty’s apartment complex and let her take your mind far, far away. The next day, you’ll be able to go for a ride, see a fantastic sunset, and drink with your riding partners. No problem.

With that mantra in mind, I checked my notes from my conversation with Tim, who I suspect is a very solid builder, and started to write his story. It’s a good one, full of romance and intrigue.

Tim and his older brother, Mike, grew up on the family dairy farm. Their dad passed when Tim was in second grade and they were forced to step up and learn the ropes. While in his teens, a friend and drag racing enthusiast contacted Tim and they built a 650 Class 1971 Vega in 1988.

“I discovered I enjoyed building more than the racing side,” Tim said.

Tim learned welding in high school and followed it in trade school.

“My brother did the same and attended Vocational College,” Tim said. “I took metal shaping classes in Charlotte.”

At one point, Tim made the trek to California to watch some television builders and learn. It was the time of the build-offs and he followed the TV action.

Tim’s home shop takes on car restoration projects, racecars, rat rods, and bikes “when they are hot,” Tim said. He and his brother, his mom and uncle live outside of Ten Mile, Tennessee.

Ten Mile is primarily a summer cottage community on Watts Bar Lake. It includes summer cottages, small locally owned stores and restaurants, a bank, marinas, resorts, churches, and a post office (zip code 37880). The population is around 7,000.
 
 

Tim had the bug for action, hot cars, bikes, and flash. He watched the shows and followed the blogs. One day while checking some chopper shots on a Facebook page, he perused through the comments and one intrigued him. Clicking on a link, it took him to another blog belonging to a Canadian girl from Vancouver Island, who was a financial services manager and wore high heels and business suits daily.

“I’m not a computer guy,” Tim said. “I don’t know how I got there, but I had to know more about this girl.”

He cajoled computer savvy friend to follow and reach out to Angie, and they started to correspond after weeks of deleted messages.

“They wrote in yawls,” Angie said. “I didn’t know what to make of them for a while.”

A year of e-mails and four-hour long phone conversations led to a one-week trip for Angie to fly to Nashville and meet Tim.

“I wasn’t afraid when I stepped off the plane,” Angie said. “I knew him.”

Over the next year she returned several time, and once for six months, during which time Tim proposed.

“Vancouver Island is made up of polite and soft people,” Angie said. “Tennessee is big boobs, blondes, and in your face. Besides, it’s hot as hell.”

“She won the Canadian Lottery,” Tim said, “and I was the prize.” They were married September 8th, 2012 in Rock-a-Billy style.

“Everyday is still new to me,” Angie said.

The two brothers have a day job off site, rebuilding hydraulic cylinders for bulldozers, backhoes, compactors, any heavy equipment, plus manufacturing cylinder sleeves and hydraulic pistons. Their facility is 10 minutes away from home in Athens, Tennessee, and it houses seven CNC lathes and five CNC mills. They manufacture every piece themselves. Of course, these capabilities go along way to help with custom builds.

Tim’s home shop may not be quite as well equipped, but they can always shoot over to the day job facility for some detailed machining. All his talents came into play with this parody on a television build, the Gold Digger Bike. He wanted his version of it to be bigger, badder, and better. He took the time to venture to the Wheels Through Time museum, so he could study an old Harmon girder. He made the girder work better than stock with bronze-filled Teflon bushings. They machined their own trees and built the frame.

He did it all, and the stretch and handling of the 10-foot, 9-inch axle-to-axle sex machine fits his 5-foot, 10-inch frame perfectly. Tim built all the major components and many accessories, including the bars, the pipes, air cleaner, kicker, and seat pan. Angie handled the leather upholstery.

He recently won second place in the Charlotte Ultimate Builder Bike Show, and showed at the Easyriders Nashville show, and won the Bikernet Editor’s Choice Award at the Vegas Artistry in Iron. “I’m going to build a whole new show-stopper for the Artistry in Iron competition next year in Vegas,” Tim said.

I can’t wait to meet this couple in person. Tim is determined to build the best of the best, and Angie is determined to build his business. They turned down an opportunity to compete in the new Biker Build-off show, but watch for Tim’s work to be featured in his own TV Series.

Bikernet.com Extreme Suga Daddy Tech Chart

Regular Stuff

Owner: Tim and Angie Dixon
Bike Name: Suga Daddy
City/State: Ten Mile, Tennessee
Builder: Gas Axe Chop Shop
City/state: Ten Mile, Tennessee

Company Info: Build custom cars and bikes, metal fabrication, machining, and welding
Address: 203 Upper Concord Road, Ten Mile, Tennessee 37880
Phone: 423-507-2693
Web site: www.facebook.com/gasaxechopshop
E-mail: info@gasaxechopshop.com or mrsangiedixon@gmail.com
Fabrication: Gas Axe Chop Shop
Welding: all types
Machining: cnc milling, lathes and also manual lathe and mill

Engine

Year: 2012
Make: S&S
Model: Shovelhead
Displacement: 93 c.i.
Builder or Rebuilder: S&S
Cases: S&S
Case: S&S
finish: polished
Barrels: S&S
Pistons: S&S Forged
Barrel finish: black
Heads: S&S
Head finish: polished
Cams: S&S 585
Carburetion: S&S super E
Air cleaner: old school
Exhaust: Gas Axe custom
Mufflers: None

Transmission

Year: 2012
Make: Baker
Gear configuration: 4 speed
Primary: chain drive
Kicker: old school, custom Gas Axe offset kicker arm mount

Frame

Year: 2012
Builder: Gas Axe Chop Shop
Style or Model: Custom
Modifications: Got more curves than Marilyn Monroe

FrontEnd

Make: Gas Axe custom
Model: Harman style internally sprung girder
Year: 2012
Length: 26 inches over stock

Sheet metal

Tanks: modified Mustang
Fenders: Gas Axe modified blank
Oil tank: Gas Axe custom

Paint

Graphics or art: Flamin’ Freddy Smith
Special effects: Flames everywhere
Pinstriping: Flamin’ Freddy Smith

Wheels

Front

Make: SMT
Size: 26″ x 3.75″
Brake calipers: Hurst Airheart
Brake rotor(s): Gas Axe custom
Tire: Avon

Rear

Make: SMT
Size: 20″ x 10″
Brake calipers: KC International
Brake rotor: KC International
Tire: Avon

Controls

Foot controls: Steve Dameron
Finish: Polished
Master cylinder: Jaybrake
Brake lines: Gas Axe
Handlebar controls: Jaybrake
Finish: Polished

Electrical

Ignition: Morris Mag
Headlight: Old school painted
Taillight: old school cool

What¹s Left

Seat: Gax Axe custom pan, upholstery by Angie Dixon
Gas caps: Moon Eyes
Handlebars: Gas Axe custom
Pegs: Steve Dameron

Credits: Atlantic Coast Plating (chrome) Flamin’ Freddy Smith (paint) Gas Axe Chop Shop crew (fabrication) Angie Dixon (seat)

 
 
 
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Further Adventures of the Borderland Biker -Chapter 10

 
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.  
 
 
 
 
The Sentinel filled the doorway. Larry looked like David standing before Goliath. The difference being, David knew he had God’s blessing; while conversely Larry knew he didn’t have enough time to siphon gas from his Raider. 
 
“Leave now, all of you!” shouted Larry. “Jax and Gary go first; ride down the ramp to the elevated highway leading into the City. Wait for me at the bottom.  John, give them a minute then you and Elisa ride to the top of the dome then up the ramp leading to the portal.”
 
Thin wires began to uncoil from the Sentinel; electric arcs danced across their ends. In seconds, sooner if the wires had not been hampered by the doorway, they’d have the length to reach Larry and deliver a lethal charge. None of us would be able to leave the pod in time. What may have once passed for a human laugh came out of the giant cyborg’s mouth.
 
“Hey, big guy;” said Gary who also knew Larry didn’t have time to siphon gas from his Raider and had ridden directly in front of the Sentinel, “pick on someone your own size?”
 
At the same time Gary issued his challenge his own electrical wires shot out from behind his seat and wrapped around the Sentinel’s rollers. Instantly the pod was filled with the popping and snapping of high voltage. More surprised than immobilized the Sentinel came to a stop. 
 
The Sentinel’s voice sounded like it was coming through a long metal pipe, “I see someone disconnected your red control wires. No matter, you’ve not enough voltage to stop me.”
 
More popping and snapping followed as the two cyborgs sent electrical charges into each other. Gary, who was being overpowered, began to jerk like a puppet on a string.
Larry reached to help him.
 
“Too late, no more time;” cried Gary between spasms, “run, you’ve no time to get your bike, run!”
 
John, with Elisa as a passenger, had already ridden out and onto the catwalk when he yelled back, “They only sent the one hardcore to keep us from getting to the roof of the dome and I’ve dealt with him. I don’t see any others.”   
 
Larry hesitated, realized the futility of trying to help and jumped on the back of my Raider; I then followed John and Elisa out of the pod stopping to the left of them on the catwalk. John was already closing the door behind us when I looked back inside the pod. The Sentinel was rolling over, crushing both the Raider and Gary. Gary wasn’t moving.  
 
“He’s still alive,” said Larry who’d remained turned around looking backward. 
 
John and Elisa would have to wait for me and Larry to ride down to the elevated highway leading into the City. Our action would attract the Wheelers and would be enough of a diversion to give them the time needed to ride to the top of the dome and then up the ramp leading to the portal. However they wouldn’t be able to wait the required time if the Sentinel got to them first. And the Sentinel would be here long before we could create the diversion.
 
Gary was still alive, had opened his eyes and was lifting his one remaining wire. The end of it was inches above the pool of gas that was leaking out of Larry’s crushed Raider. Gary glanced at us and smiled at the same time the end of his wire sparked. The last thing I saw was him touching the wire’s end to the gas. Had the pod’s door not been nearly closed the resulting explosion would’ve blown all of us off the dome. 
 
John lowered his head for a moment out of respect for his fallen friend then motioned for us to go. I did and was in second gear and nearly to the bottom of the catwalk when I took a peek over my shoulder. John and Elisa were now leaving and Elisa was frantically pointing behind me.
 
Larry spoke through our radios, “Three Wheelers are about fifty yards to our rear. They had to have gotten onto the catwalk from another pod. They’ll bracket us once we’re on the highway. John and Elisa are out of sight and heading towards the portal. John’s bike’s a Hayabusa; even two-up it should be able to outrun most anything that’s after them.” 
 
Seconds after I’d ridden onto the elevated highway leading to the City Larry made it known we were now fair game. Roads coming up from the Old Places would soon be intersecting with the one we were on. The Wheelers behind us were gaining.
 
“Hey,” I shouted over my shoulder, “I thought Wheelers wouldn’t attack if you kept a steady speed?”
 
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Larry shouted back. “After the mess we caused back at the dome I’d be surprised if the Wheelers didn’t have orders to kill us on sight or worse, make us into parking meters…soooooo PUNCH IT! Let’s see if our red nose reindeer Rudolph, I mean our Raider, can really move Santa’s sleigh.”
 
Since leaving the dome the hearing aid size ear radio I wear was transmitting everything Larry was saying but also picking up music. “One Way or Another” by Blondie was starting to play in the background. By the time I was into fourth gear Blondie was singing the chorus “…I’m gonna getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha…” Fourth gear could’ve revved higher but I short shifted into fifth at seventy. The Raider’s mid-range torque would pull me into triple digits much quicker than winding the engine out in a lower gear.
 
Proving what we’d suspected, that the bosses had indeed been eavesdropping in on our plan of escape; all exits leading down into the Old Places were blocked by Wheelers. Our only path now was straight towards the City but it too was blocked, not by Wheelers, but by the granddaddy of all Sentinels. 
 
“There’s no escape,” I shouted.
 
“They really were,” Larry knew he was stating the obvious at the same time I started backing off the throttle, “listening in on our escape plans. I just hope Elisa and John were able to make it up the ramp and through the portal.”
 
I’d already down shifted into second gear and was about to downshift into first when Larry spoke through my ear radio. Larry and I were able to speak to one another because we had identical hearing aid size radios.
 
“Down shift into first then slow down as if you were going to stop, but don’t, not until I tell you; I’ve a plan.”
 
“We’re trapped, I replied. “What plan, what’s the point?”
 
Once we passed the Wheelers blocking the exits into the Old Places they’d circle in behind pushing us on towards the awaiting Sentinel. Completely bracketed, we were being herded down a gauntlet of sparking high voltage wires. Hopefully death would be quick; the idea of being taken back to the dome to be made into a parking meter was something I did not want to experience. I was slowing, preparing to stop.
 
“Remember not to stop until I tell you,” whispered Larry through the tiny radio we had in our ears and at the same time he poured cold coffee over us. “I’m pouring some of Elisa’s hoodoo coffee over our heads.”
 
Elisa had divided her gallon of coffee into four plastic quart bottles back at the pod; she’d given Larry three of them keeping the fourth for herself. 
 
Already I was feeling the coffee’s effects. First came an exhilaration then an acute awareness followed by a feeling of heightened sensitivity. More importantly the Wheelers behind us and to the sides began to immediately fall back, away from the coffee’s smell creating an opening through to the City’s gate…that is except for the huge Sentinel. The pungent smell of Elisa’s special blend seemed to be acting as more of an irritant to it than a repellant.
 
“All the Wheelers,” said Larry from behind me, “have broken off and gone back to blocking the entrances into the Old Places. We’ve no other choice but to get past this Sentinel and enter the City. When I tell you to stop, stop just outside the reach of his electric wires…STOP!”
 
Easily a third larger than the Sentinel that had attacked us in the pod it blocked the road ahead. Larry, however, wasn’t there to make comparisons. His aim was to jump off my bike and hurl what was left of the quart bottle of Elisa’s hoodoo coffee into the giant Sentinel’s face, which he did, no pun intended, with perfect aim. The effects were immediate and caused the giant cyborg to reel backwards as if its face had been bathed in acid.
 
The Sentinel screamed in pain. Oily green spittle flew from what once might have been a human mouth in what once might have been a human face. Acting like some type of solvent Elisa’s coffee was already eating into the metal surrounding the more skull than head.
 
“Go,” yelled Larry, “the gates to the wall surrounding the City are opening.” 
 
A second later Larry had climbed aboard the Raider and I was accelerating past the monster. A second after I was out of its reach the scream behind me turned into a roar of rage. When the roar of rage, once a scream of pain, turned into a cry of despair I looked behind me. 
 
The Sentinel was staring at us, no longer with rage but with an awakening recognition. It was as if Elisa’s coffee had also dissolved whatever was blocking old memories and allowed it to remember back to when it was more than a machine, to when it was human. I could’ve sworn it nodded and smiled just before it turned to face the oncoming Wheelers.
 
Stretching its huge arms and electric wires it turned to block the road. It was helping us escape. Not until I’d ridden to within about a quarter of a mile of the City did I slow down enough to look again.
 
The Sentinel had been overpowered. Like ants swarming over the body of large spider they’d just killed along with the bodies of their comrades that had fallen defeating it, the Wheelers headed for us. They’d be upon us seconds. With no other place to go but straight ahead I cranked the Raider’s throttle open and kept it open.
 
“Punch it; pedal to the metal,” shouted Larry directly into my ear, “the gates to the City have stopped opening and are starting to close!”
 
Faster than when they had opened, the gates into the City were closing; their speed was even accelerating. We’d make it through but by the skin of our teeth. Riding at high speed into a walled city that was descending into darkness was now our only option.
 
A narrowing path of twilight continued to get thinner as the huge gates behind me swung shut. Too soon it would taper into a sliver then disappear altogether leaving only the Raider’s headlight to illuminate the road ahead. 
 
“The Wheelers have broken off probably because they don’t like being outside the dome after the sun’s set; they’re not following,” said Larry.
 
“Or probably because they’re smart enough ‘not’ to enter the City.” I said at the same I started slowing down and the gates behind us slammed shut with an echo that kept on echoing…that kept on echoing…that kept on…
 
When I was within a hundred feet of the buildings I came to a stop. My headlight underlined the fact there was no space between the buildings and that impossibly tall columns seemingly much too thin to support their own weight arched upwards fading into the darkness of height. 
 
“The City’s dome is able with some type of electromagnetic field,” I said, “to block out light after the sun’s set. Once the sun drops beyond the horizon it reacts to residual light like a welder’s electric visor reacts. Unless it’s direct sunlight, all light from outside is blocked from entering and the City becomes as dark as a parrot’s cage after a blanket’s been thrown over it. It must then rely on internal sources. And judging from the columns the dome over this place makes the dome we escaped from look like an overturned cereal bowl.”
 
“That’s a lot of oatmeal,” Larry laughed as he got off the back of the Raider. “Twist your handlebars more to the left.”
 
I did as Larry asked and twisted the handlebars further to the left and was able to see the buildings were indeed side by side with no space between them. The only sound other than our own voices was the Raider’s idling motor.
 
“As far left as you can turn them; what’s that?”
 
Twisting the handlebars completely to the left illuminated a set of gears, “There’s nothing there but a huge set of gears at the edge of the garden outside those buildings.”  
Larry was already walking, “Let’s get a closer look.”
 
[page break] 
 
 
I followed, riding to within a few feet of the gears. Discarded from some long ago industrial era they looked as out of place as we were in this futuristic city. Trees randomly planted close by had grown too large cracking their containers. Behind the garden was a large charcoal gray colored building; it was at the limit of the Raider’s headlight beam and rose upwards for more than ten stories.
 
“Shine your headlight directly on the framework holding the gears,” said Larry who’d walked over to stand beside the gears and was pointing at the framework. “There’s a type of writing or marking etched into the metal.”
 
I’d forgotten Larry had acute vision and would’ve been able to spot most anything under the rust, “What’s it say?”
 
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty and despair,” said Larry as he kneeled down for a closer look. “Hey, I’m just kidding and my apologies to Percy Shelley. What’s written are simply the instructions on how to open the entryway doors leading to the buildings.” 
 
I’d left the motor running on the Raider and gotten off and walked to where Larry was standing, “So what exactly does the writing say?”
 
“It says,” answered Larry at the same time he turned the lower gear one complete turn to the right, “simply to twist the lower gear one complete turn to the right and then the top gear three complete turns to the left to turn on the lights and open the entryway’s doors. They’re just directions; I’m sorry the writing wasn’t more poetic.”
 
I’d positioned myself by his side so I could help, “It shouldn’t have turned that easily;” I said, looking at the rust built up on the metal, “maybe you should be more careful turning the top gear three turns to the left?”
 
Larry had spun the lower gear to the right as easily as if it had greased bearings, “You’re right, it was too easy, which is why I’m going to twist the top gear just as quickly.”
 
“Do you,” I asked knowing we were going to find out anyway, “think it’s a trap of some kind?”
 
“If the only way of getting into these buildings to deactivate the computer,” answered Larry, “means moving these gears in a series of right and left turns then we’re going to find out if it’s some kind of trap real soon.”
 
“Those buildings have vertical slits for windows and none lower than the second story,” I knew I was pointing out the obvious. “And the entryway doors might as well have been built for a bank vault; they’d keep most anything out.”
 
“Or in,” added Larry at the same time he started turning the upper gear to the left, “we’ve no other choice but to follow the directions if we’re to get inside.”
 
The elevated highway I’d ridden into the City on ended at the entryway doors leading to the buildings; opened they would’ve allowed a truck to enter. How far we’d be able to ride after we’d gotten in was anyone’s guess. Our ride could end just past the entryway or continue on using a series of causeways to intersect with other buildings as well as other levels. We wouldn’t know until we were inside.
 
At the completion of third and final turn Larry let go of the upper gear and stepped back. Nothing happened. The only sound was the sound of the Raider’s idle and our breathing. Or maybe we were idling and the Raider was breathing? 
 
“We’ll,” I said, “have to find another way; these gears must’ve been someone’s idea of a practical joke.”
 
“Quiet!”
 
“I was just saying that…,” I tried to continue.
 
Larry pointed towards the charcoal gray building with one hand and put his fingers to his lips with the other, “The building’s beginning to glow and the doors just moved.”
Larry’s keen senses had detected the changes before I could and now that’d he’d drawn attention to them I could also see both the movement and the glow. The glow was gradual, growing in intensity until it bathed the space out to and beyond us in a blue gray light. The movement of the doors was equally as gradual but steady and stopped only after they were completely open.
 
There’s a scene in Frank Baum’s THE WIZARD OF OZ when the doors to the Emerald City open and Dorothy and her companions stand in wonder of what they see inside. What Dorothy didn’t see was a thin man with a long face wearing clothes tailored for a Charles Dickens character about a hundred feet past the doors. He was waving his hands and motioning for us to hurry and enter as the doors were already beginning to close.
 
“In for a penny,” laughed Larry as he ran forward.
 
Not wanting to leave the Raider and knowing we’d need it at a later time, I yelled, “In for a pound,” ran back, dropped it into first gear and proceeded to accelerate through the rapidly closing doors. Their slamming behind me punctuated the finality of our decision.
 
“I’ve only a short time,” said the man who really did look like he’d just stepped out of a Charles Dickens novel, “to tell you how to get through the City and to the airfield where your friend’s waiting. He needs you to bring him something.”
 
“You’re a hologram aren’t you;” said Larry as he moved to get a closer look, “you’re flickering in and out of focus? How can we trust you; you’re just a projection?”
Before Larry and I could move the man had walked through both of us, turned around and walked back through us again.
 
“Not only am I a hologram,” said the hologram, “I’m the unintended projection of a program that was supposed to have been purged. I designed and built the very computer you’ve come to destroy.”
 
I walked a few feet closer, “Isn’t there some way we could just reprogram the computer to stop sending nightmares into dreams; destroy is a bit extreme don’t you think?” 
 
“Oh, make no mistake you’ll have to destroy it and me as well; if you don’t, it, rather we, will destroy you.”
 
Larry and I circled the man more than once trying to find from where he was being projected but with no success. We finally gave up looking for the source and accepted the fact he was indeed a hologram.
 
“Why,” Larry asked in a genuinely concerned voice, “would you want us to destroy something you created and in the process yourself; aren’t there other options?”
 
“As I’m sure you already know, and as your friend nearly fatally found out, my creation has become quite dangerous; there are no other choices.”
 
I interjected, “When you speak of our friend are you referring to our friend Charon; he visited this place ahead of us. He had to short-circuit the computer before it awakened so he could escape?”
 
“Ah yes, the legendary Charon, the incarnation of the river Styx;” laughed the hologram, “actually I was the one that gave him the idea on how to do it. When I saw he wasn’t going to escape I got lucky and was able to interface with his mind and give him the idea of releasing all his water to short-circuit the relays. The computer never sleeps. It was a mistake I made when I designed it. I didn’t realize that without sleep it would continue to self-diagnose until it hallucinated then went mad.   
 
“Your friend may have thought the computer was asleep but it wasn’t. It was no more asleep than a spider’s ever asleep waiting to be awakened by the slightest touch to its web. I tried to warn him away telling him it was a trap; I even tried to tell him not to return unless he brought the cavalry but by then his mind wasn’t open to communication.” 
 
Larry interrupted, “Charon did say something or someone reached out to him when he was escaping; was it you?”
 
Memories of making a high school science report on the scientist that invented the lens used in lighthouses flashed before me as well as his portrait, “You look a lot like the French scientist that invented the lens used in lighthouses. He died in 1827 of tuberculosis; you can’t be him?”
 
“Yes and maybe,” answered the hologram tipping his hat. “Augustin Fresnel at your service; call me Augie. And yes, I did invent the lens, but a maybe to having died. I remember going to sleep thinking I was going to die but awakening here; maybe this place is somewhere between life and death?”
 
Fifty feet beyond where we were standing began a circular on-off ramp. It rose spiraling upwards for three stories until it intersected with an overhead road that entered the charcoal grey colored building. That building as well as the buildings blurring into the distance behind it glowed with the same blue gray light and were similarly interconnected with spiraling ramps and causeways. If Larry and I were to travel throughout the city it would have to be by way of those same overhead roads, ramps and causeways.
 
“Augustin,” I said, “that means you’ve been here almost two hundred years.” 
 
“It’s Augie; and yes, it would’ve been almost two hundred years had I not recently been changed into a hologram. In essence had my creation,” and Augie reached upwards as if to embrace the charcoal grey building, “not grown beyond my ability to control it and had I not been so arrogant in thinking I could regain control we’d be shaking hands, real hands.” 
 
Larry was inspecting Augie starting with Augie’s head then moving down to his feet, “Do you mean literally changed?”
 
“The Munchkins,” answered Augie, “would’ve said positively or undeniably but literally will do. Actually the change was painless. One second I was as real as the two of you and attempting to download a safety protocol into the computer; the next second I’d been pixilated into an electromagnetic algorithm. Simply put my creation didn’t like having a leash put on it and zapped me. What it doesn’t know is I was able to interface with the thing sent to zap me just before I was zapped. I prefer calling the thing the Hunter.” 
 
“Are you,” asked Larry straightforwardly, “the Hunter?” 
 
“No…I mean yes, but not yet. Fortunately I’d written the Hunter’s program and interfaced with it before I was zapped. I’m now its initiation sequence. I appear just ‘before’ the Hunter arrives to destroy whatever the computer sees as a threat. The irony is I’m being generated by the very thing sent to destroy me. Think of me as the strawberry you think of when someone tells you “DON’T!” think of strawberries.” 
 
“Do you see us,” I already knew the answer, “as a threat?”
 
“Oh most positively, absolutely, undeniably,” answered Augie in his best Munchkin voice, “You’re a threat, not to me when I’m Augie but to me when I become the Hunter.”
 
Since we’d first started talking with Augie the blue gray glow coming from the charcoal grey building’s windows had been changing to a blue green that in turn was now changing to a yellowish green. I’d seen the same shade of green in the eyes of a Nile crocodile. Discovery Channel had run a special on the monstrous reptiles. The cameraman had gotten a close-up of a crocodile’s eyes just before it grabbed a zebra that had wandered too close to the river.
 
“Are you sure you’re not here to stall us,” said Larry as he began to unscrew the cap on the second of Elisa’s three bottles of coffee, “until the Hunter arrives?”
 
“Of course I’m here to stall you but I’m also here to warn you and to give you this map; there’s a path on it the Hunter can’t step on. I know I created him; I’m him.”
 
Augie blurred for a moment as if his transmission had been interrupted and for a moment his eyes glowed with the same yellowish green crocodile eye color I’d seen coming from the building’s windows. A second later he flickered back into focus and appeared again as the Charles Dickens character Larry and I had first seen. A second after that he walked quickly to where the Raider was parked and touched its gas tank. There was a flash as bright as an arc welder flash. 
 
“I’ve downloaded a map with the path onto the top of your tank; the path’s route starts at the top of this ramp,” said Augie with heighten urgency while pointing at the base of the ramp. Augie blurred again, “The Hunter’s nearly here; I can feel his presence. You’ve no time to waste.”
 
Larry and I were aboard the Raider and riding up the ramp before Augie finished talking. Downloaded into the top of the gas tank, the map was telling us to turn left, a left turn that would lead us into the charcoal grey building Augie had recently turned to as if he were being summoned.
 
“Riding into that building’s a mistake?”
 
“Maybe not;” replied Larry, “maybe Augie knew the key to destroying the Hunter was to go to its power source not run from it? We’ve got to trust that Fresnel, I mean Augie, means to help us.”
 
Below us on the level where Larry and I were moments before the lights dimmed to the color of a crocodile’s eyes and a deep kettledrum beat began. And the beat sounded like the engine beat I felt and heard as a young sailor when I was at sea aboard the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Lexington just before I went to sleep, and it would resonate throughout the ship like the throbbing of a giant heart.
 
“Take a look at what’s going to be chasing us;” said Larry pointing to the bottom of the ramp we’d just ridden up, “our friend Augie has become the Hunter.”
 
[page break]
 
 
“You can’t say Augie didn’t warn us,” I said taking a quick peek at our pursuer.
 
Any resemblance to Augie was gone. In his place was the Hunter. Looking more like a larger than life Olympian athlete, I couldn’t help but wonder had the Greeks envisioned their gods looking like this when they created their mythology? I then had the horrible thought our Raider wouldn’t be fast enough to outrun him.
 
“Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum,” laughed the Hunter whose eyes glowed with a yellowish green light. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” 
 
“He looks pretty solid for a hologram; I vote we not wait to find out how solid,” said Larry hurriedly gesturing for me to continue following the map’s path. 
 
The map Augie downloaded onto the Raider’s gas tank was a type of GPS directing us to follow a narrow causeway into the building I was certain housed the computer. It was the same building Augie had turned to in a gesture of embrace. The path on the map was colored yellow and I couldn’t help remembering the song’s lyrics in the movie THE WIZARD OF OZ “…follow, follow, follow, follow; follow the Yellow Brick Road…” With no other choice I put the Raider into gear and rode into the building. Larry had already taken a bottle of Elisa’s coffee out of the bag.
 
Once inside we saw only the small laptop described by Charon on a tiny wooden table in the alcove of a large room. Beside the table was a wooden chair. A common household extension cord ran from the laptop to a floor stand at the base of five parabolic rings. Floating upwards towards the ceiling in order of increasing size, each ring had about two feet of distance separating one from the next. Nothing joined them together but the space between them. The rings ranged from a foot to nearly three feet in diameter. An empty soda can and a Hopalong Cassidy lunch box were also on the table. The rest of the room was bare. The huge processor Charon described must’ve been in the next room.
 
“I was hoping,” said the Hunter at the same time he flickered into existence about fifteen feet away, “it wouldn’t have been this easy. I was looking forward to the chase. Fresnel may or may not have told you; you’re safe as long as you remain on the map’s path. What he forgot to tell you is the path leading you through and eventually out of the City has a habit of fading away and reappearing…which it will begin to do in a few minutes; I need only be patient and wait. 
 
“After I deal with the two of you, and I think I’ll take my time after the mess you caused back at the dome, I’m going to finally purge Fresnel from my program. He’s been my mentor and I can’t forget he created me,” and the Hunter’s face showed genuine sadness, “but he’s become a pest.”
 
“If you’re punishing us for our sins,” Larry asked as he walked towards the alcove, “did Elisa and John make it out?”
 
“Yes, they did, and that’s another reason I’ll take my time with you two;” answered the Hunter, “you’ve found a way to rescue, to unmake cyborgs, and I need to know what it is.”
 
Larry removed what looked like a large wad of thick twine from the backpack Elisa had given him.
 
“Speaking of unmaking, did you know,” said Larry, “that among the Hawaiians certain patterns were only to be woven into dreamcatchers by their healers the Kahunas? For the sick it was a blessing to have the web placed over them. The disease would be drawn into the web where it would become trapped in the web’s strands. Free of their disease the sick were able to heal. Kahunas were only feared by the evil ones, the ones that brought disease or those that came to harm others. 
 
“I’ve no interest in Hawaiian folklore,” said the Hunter, “and you better take a drink of whatever you’ve got in that bottle; you’re not going to have time to finish it.”
 
“It’s coffee!” I shouted. “We’ve more than enough; it’s a special blend from a special friend.” 
 
“Have some,” said Larry just before he unscrewed the cap, took in a mouthful of coffee, put the cap back on the bottle, and then threw the bottle at the Hunter.
 
With a movement almost too quick to follow the Hunter reached out and caught the bottle. I’d not seen anyone move that fast since Hilts had drawn his Colt .45 revolvers against the Cyclops or Charon had moved in front of Larry and me to protect us from the carnival nightmares that had stolen Marnie’s Borderland.
 
“You forget,” laughed the Hunter as he popped the cap off the bottle and drank the remaining coffee, “that I’m virtually a hologram. This potion may have stopped the Wheelers and even a Sentinel but it has little effect on me.”
 
Larry was standing over the laptop with coffee running down his chin and spewed out, “it’ll have an effect on you if you’re unplugged?”  
 
If the Hunter had been fast catching the bottle of coffee thrown at him he now moved as if in slow motion trying to get between the laptop’s keyboard and the coffee Larry had spit out of his mouth. His “Dooooooon’t,” sounded like a record player when the power’s cut. Larry’s mouthful of coffee had already rained down onto the laptop shorting it out and the electromagnetic field holding the suspended parabolic disks. Power to the Hunter had been taken away.
 
“Hey, over here,” I shouted. 
 
 My shout was enough to get the weakened Hunter to look at me and for Larry to throw the wad of thick string at him. Upon release the wad of string opened like a Hawaiian fishnet into a king size edition of one of Elisa’s dreamcatchers and wrapped itself around the Hunter’s body. 
 
Like cheese through a grater, the Hunter was shredded between the web’s strands, and it happened as fast as when Raggedy man was shredded. The difference being some of the pieces on the other side of the dreamcatcher immediately began to coalesce into Augie; the pieces that were left melted, turning into a yellowish green smoke then drifted away.
 
What else was in Elisa’s backpack of tricks? We’d already used her special coffee to stop the Wheelers and a Sentinel; and now we’d used her dreamcatcher to stop the Hunter.
 
“I start from the back. Once I’m doing the fender I’ll envision the next part.” -Billy Lane of CHOPPERS INC  
 
 
 
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ATK Meets Saddlemen

We peeled out to Saddlemen’s family-operated dream factory recently to see what was new, and maybe test a new bag on a 250 ATK cruiser. We worked with Saddlemen’s team on several occasions, building a totally custom seat for the Mudflap Girl FXR, creating seats for Bonneville Racers, you name it.

The Saddlemen group is constantly on the hunt for new, more comfortable seat technology, and gear to make any ride more user-friendly. Kyle the official Bikernet electrician just came across his first new motorcycle, a 250 cc ATK V-twin cruiser, and he’s taken to it. But he was looking for some way to peel to small jobs and carry the necessary tools.

We knew about the new All-American line of bags Saddlemen offers, and we are testing a small tool bag on the Mudflap Girl FXR, and we also have a massive sissy bar bag for longer runs. Buster, the new blood Saddlemen staffer called and said, “Bring the ATK down; we have another new line of travel gear called FTB.”
 
 

Here’s the company info on the line:

It’s the latest group of motorcycle luggage from Saddlemen – The FTB line features a bold, sporty look with an array of vital features bundled with suburb construction and class-leading value pricing. No other line of bags look as sharp on your motorcycle, so be prepared to acknowledge complements about them at each gas stop.

Sissy bar bag mounting is simple and quick using Saddlemen’s adjustable backrest sleeve that conforms to the width of your sissybar or pad, and its shape or taper. Mounting is secure, when using a Sissybar or just a rack or seat, with the four hold-down straps included with each bag. The trunk and rack bag mounts in moments without fuss using rugged nylon straps and clips attached directly to the body of the bag.

If the weather gets wet, use the supplied high-visibility, light-reflective rain cover to protect the bag and its contents. And if you need to carry your Sissybar bag with you when you park your bike, use the included, padded backpack straps to tote your gear with you.

The Sport Sissybar Bags (FTB1000 and FTB 1500) are shaped to present a trim line on your motorcycle, but open up to hold an impressive amount of cargo for their size. The main cargo compartment flap opens fully with solid tethered sides for easy loading. Internal mesh storage compartments secure smaller items while keeping them visible so you can locate your stuff fast. Integrated, side-mount beverage holders adjust to the bottle’s size and then fold down smooth when not in use.

The Sport Trunk & Rack Bag (FTB3300) brings never-before-seen style to the top of your touring bike’s trunk, trunk-rack or large rear rack. Semi-rigid walls, specially contoured for style and load capacity, hold their shape regardless of your cargo. Gull-wing top flaps have perimeter zippers that open large for easy loading and unpacking. It’s simply the new standard in trunk-rack bags.

The Sport Sissybar & Combo Bags (FTB2500 and FTB3600) are the large siblings in the FTB clan. They have the same, knife-sharp styling and organizing features as the smaller bags but with more capacity. Mid-size side compartments easily hold extra cargo and double up as beverage holders. Each bag also includes a specialized top storage bag that clips on and off in seconds. Equipped with the same highly-functional gull-wing style access flaps as our Sport Trunk & Rack Bag, these top bags expand your cargo capacity by a huge margin. Need to get at rain gear fast, but keep it away from your other stuff? These auxiliary storage bags fit the bill.

FTB SPORT BAG FAMILY
 
FTB1000 Sport Sissybar Bag DRAG #3515-0138$89.95
 
FTB1500Sport Sissybar Bag DRAG #3515-0139 $99.95
 
FTB3300Sport Trunk & Rack Bag DRAG #3515-0140$119.95
 
FTB2500Sport Sissybar & Combo Bag DRAG #3515-0141 $134.95
 

FTB3600Sport Sissybar & Combo Bag DRAG #3515-0142 $169.95

First, Buster introduced us to a nifty saddle capable of slipping under any seat and allowing almost any bag to be strapped securely to almost any passenger seat. That puppy was amazing.

Then we tried on a couple of new FTB bags, and came up with one capable of doing any job for Kyle. The bag industry is amazing and capable of almost anything, with pockets, slots, fixtures, lids, map windows, you name it.

Saddlemen also has the most popular product on the planet for riders. It’s a tank bag for your cell phone or GPS. This puppy is amazing. There’s that word again. The magnet won’t mar your paint, and won’t leave at any speed.

Buster took care of Kyle, introduced us to several FTB products, and made the kid’s day. No matter what bike you have, custom or stock, Saddlemen has just what you need, and if not, they are designing one right now.

With the saddle in place this system comes with fully adjustable clip-on straps. After they are thoroughly tested, they can be cut and heated to prevent unraveling.

They also come with rain protective covers for on the road or while parked in the elements.

 

 Plus, the super logo on the back is reflective at night.

We will keep you posted of any new Saddlemen developments.

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ART ATTACK: Ian Barry’s British Re-Masterpieces

 
Perhaps some would call it a “crime of passion” to “recycle” classic  British bikes into “works of art,” but perhaps there’s significant leeway when the custom creations are for the  most salvaged bits and pieces reconfigured into scratch built and streetable “one-offs.” Then again, do bikes… nut and bolt mechanical gizmos filled with goopy oil…deserve to be placed on pedestals and acclaimied as works of art? The answer is self-evident when you first lay eyes on the three motorcycles seen here. The trio of glistening, gleaming, yet fully funcitonal motorcycles come with relatively simple names for all that went into their making…The White, The Black, the Kestrel. More on the names later.
 
Every part, excluding engine, carburetors and tires are literally cut from blocks of metal. Even the leftover metal shavings are “recycled” into framed artworks hung alongside them when they appeared at the upscale Michael Kohn Gallery on the hip side of Los Angeles. The first three of the ten proposed custom bike builds by Los Angeles-based industrial designer, artist, and motorcycle engineer Ian Barry made their art gallery debut appearance in late July 2013. the pristine almost stark display area a perfect environment for viewing the rolling masterpieces, each with 1,000-3,000 hours poured into their hand-crafted aluminum, stainless steel and titanium creation, one bike built per year.”
 
The gallery describes Ian’s work as “continuing Ian’s exploration of symbolism, power and speed, using motorcycles as the translating mechanism.
 
Ian, who traces his bike riding lineage to his great-grandparents in Holland, works out of a Hollywood stuido called Falcon Motorcycles founded in 2008 by Ian and with his partner Amaryllis Knight. The shop appears part sculptor’s lair, part gearhead sanctuary, part inventor’s science lab. It’s filled with vintage tools as well as those Ian designed and built himself including a massive English wheel for creating beautiful bends in metal, a device he recycled from a 1950s dough making machine. ”
 
Speaking to the motivation behind his bike building, he says, “I’ve always been completely obsessed with English bikes. The first motorcycle I bought was a 1967 Bonneville all in pieces when I was 18. After getting plenty of advice and help from the Old Timers, I eventually got it back together. Then it was on to BSAs and Nortons, and the obsession hasn’t stopped.
 
As for the choice of shop names, one day he caught a glimpse of falconer, a trainer of the birds, the  image on his computer screen. Seems his fiancee Amaryllis both share an interest in the feathered speed demons.  It started when Amaryllis had competed in the London To Mongolia car rally, at one point spending time with a falconer when she was making her way through Kazakhstan during the race. Says Ian, “It was this that made us think of the name Falcon – the fastest animal on earth. We couldn’t believe that nobody had taken the name yet, so we claimed it.
 
While his Falcon Motorcycles are built for customers, including his special “art” series, they are all fully functional, road worthy macines. But  Ian obviously also views motorcycles from an artistic plane. Speaking about each engine he builds, he says, “I make the engines the focus, because in and of themselves, they are symbolic and they have a rhetorical quality. The engine isn’t a static material. It’s about propulsion and potential.
 
In addition to a very select client list, his “motorcycle aesthetic” has earned Ian numerous awards includes honors at the U.S. 2008 Legend of the Motorcycle International Concours and at the prestigous Quail Motorcycle Concours for both 2010 and 2011.
 
 
 
 
Ian named this bike “The White, ” perhaps because of its 100% polished surfaces that creates its monochromatic visual impact. His most recently completed project, it’s based around a 1967 500cc single cylinder Velocette “Squish Head” high performance Venom Thruxton engine. Only about 1,000 Thruxtons were produced between 1967 and the end of production in early 1971. The “Squish Heads” were far rarer as they were very special and very limited (perhaps only six) factory built race motors, the same design that brought Velocette a major victory at the famous 1967 Isle of Mann TT race.
 
 
The world’s sexiest swingarm? Minimalism meets maximum expression in Ian’s one-off frame and jewel-like like fittings, motor mounts and hardware.The bike also features GP race carburetors and alloy Borrani wheels.
 
 
Ian fashions everything from the oil tanks to the exhaust systems to the control levers and countless other components. Some when comparing the three machines believe The White bike to be the most complicated and deeply crafted bike yet to emerge from Ian’s studio, but in reality each bike is as unique as a fingerprint or a snowflake and thus equally rare in beauty and execution.
 
 
 
 
“The Kestrel Falcon” All parts were modified from original pieces or custom made including the hand bent exhaust pipes, handlebars, levers, forward controls, fender, license plate holder, and seat, even many of the fasteners. It was inspired by one the fastest animal in nature, the Kestrel, a bird of prey and member of the falcon family that hunts by swooping down from a height upon its target, and also able to hover in mid-air. Kestrels are several million years in the making, about which Ian says, “”They have been perfected by nature over time, but most compelling to me is that they can’t be tamed. You can’t really control them.  In a way you and the Kestrel have to choose each other.”  
 
Nested into a modified 1950 Triumph Thunderbird frame fitted with a girder front end, the powerplant is a modified 1970 650cc Triumph Bonneville that has been retro-verted from a unit construction to non-unit, while the primary has been “carved” open literally to expose its mechanical beauty, again Ian’s focus on merging art with technology…and his view of them as both “beasts and beauties.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The art gallery’s brochure description of “The Black” includes a list of its “ingredients” that reads: “Acrylic, 7075 +6061 T6 aluminum, brass, 954 bronze alloy, copper, cloth, enamel, epoxy, glass, leather, light-emitting diodes, nickel, Pyrex, stainless steel, steel, titanium, white gold leaf, 1952 Vincent Black Shadow engine, Avon tires, Borrani 21-inch WM1 wheel, Borrani 20” WM2 wheel plus the bike’s dimensions: 33x30x80 inches… maybe in  case you planned to have it framed.
 
 
The dramatic “bifurcation” of the gas tank treatment seems to give this bike a “dual personality” with one side of the gas tank appearing stock while the other side seems split open to reveal its inner mechanical core highlighted by the upswept and massive GP carb. The seat is another startling feature with the bare springs revealed without any covering, a definitely “bare bones” design element. And yes, the big speedometer is the famous Vincent black-faced Smith “clock.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
The author drools over The White bike. Are the bikes for sale? Yes, and Ian can build you rumbling, rolling artwork that you can both hang in your dining room and then blast down the Autobahn or any road for that matter. All it takes is a healthy respect for the investment of time and talent that goes into his true “one-offs.”
 
More info at:
or you can call in Los Angeles (213) 955-0007.
 
Ian Barry is being exhibited at the Michael Kohn Gallery on Beverly Boulevard, Los Angeles, CA, through December 21, 2013.
 
For more information click here: 
 
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