AMA Pro Racing Releases 2014 AMA Pro Flat Track Schedule
By Bandit |
AMA Pro Racing is pleased to announce the complete AMA Pro Flat Track schedule for the upcoming 2014 season; an agenda that includes 16 rounds featuring non-stop entertainment and thrilling motorcycle racing action from the AMA Pro Grand National Championship (GNC) and AMA Pro Singles classes.
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“We’re excited to be announcing the 2014 AMA Pro Flat Track schedule today,” said Michael Gentry, Chief Operating Officer of AMA Pro Racing. “AMA Pro Flat Track is America’s original extreme sport, and we’re looking forward to watching our riders thrill crowds across the country during another action-packed season of racing in 2014.”
Of the 16 races scheduled as part of the 2014 AMA Pro Flat Track calendar, the GNC Expert Singles will compete at four of the rounds, broken down into two Short Tracks and two TTs, while the thundering GNC Expert Twins will contest the remaining 12 rounds, consisting of six Half-Mile and six Mile tracks. Fans can also expect to watch the sport’s finest up-and-coming talent battle for fame and glory in Pro Singles races at the majority of the events.
On March 13 and 14, 2014, DAYTONA Flat Track will once again play host to the AMA Pro Flat Track opener as the series kicks off the 2014 season with a doubleheader on the quarter-mile lime rock track located just outside Daytona International Speedway’s west banking. At the 2013 season opener in Daytona Beach, Fla., fans witnessed four riders claim their first career victories at the professional level in dramatic fashion.
Next up, the series will make its first annual stop in Springfield, Ill. for the Springfield Mile on May 25, 2014 and will return again to the legendary venue on August 31, 2014 for the second go-around. Last season, Brandon Robinson made his money at Springfield, earning two convincing victories in a crucial late-season doubleheader weekend.
The series will head to Knoxville Raceway in Knoxville, Iowa on June 15, 2014 for Round 4. Kenny Coolbeth earned a split-second victory at the Knoxville Half-Mile in 2012 over then defending champion Jake Johnson. After taking a break from the Marion County venue in 2013, the series is scheduled to return to Knoxville Raceway in 2014 to run in conjunction with the World of Outlaws STP Sprint Car Series and provide the same exhilarating action that it does everywhere else.
Round 5 of AMA Pro Flat Track will take place at the Allen County Fairgrounds in Lima, Ohio for the Lima Half-Mile on June 28, 2014. Dating back to 1984, AMA Pro Flat Track has made the trek to Lima to take on the pea-gravel circuit and the 2014 event should be another weekend filled with exciting racing.
It wouldn’t be a normal 4th of July weekend without AMA Pro Flat Track racing in Hagerstown, Md. The series is set to roll out the thundering twin-cylinder motorcycles on July 5, 2014 at Hagerstown Speedway for the Hagerstown Half-Mile. Eventual 2013 Grand National Champion Brad Baker earned his first win at the GNC Expert level at Hagerstown last season and will look to have similar success following America’s Independence Day in 2014.
The first west coast tour begins on July 19, 2014 with a Half-Mile event at Grays Harbor Raceway in Elma, Wash. The venue will serve as the first time that AMA Pro Flat Track tires will have touched this particular soil and the event will be hosted by a new promoter.
On July 26, 2014, the series will make its second west coast appearance at the famous Sacramento Mile in Sacramento, Calif. Last season, Bryan Smith recorded his first of two wins on the year at the Cal Expo and the Flint, Mich. product will look to continue his success on mile-long tracks when the series returns to Sacramento in 2014.
The first TT event will take place at Castle Rock Race Park in Castle Rock, Wash. for the Castle Rock TT on August 2, 2014. Jeffrey Carver recorded his lone win of the season last year in AMA Pro Expert Singles competition as he crossed the stripe a little over a second ahead of second-place finisher and 2012 Grand National Champion Jared Mees.
Next up, the series heads to Black Hills Speedway in Rapid City, S.D. for the Sturgis Half-Mile on August 5, 2014, run in conjunction with the largest annual bike rally in the United States. Hundreds of thousands of motorcycle enthusiasts will flock to the 74th Annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally and the timing couldn’t be any better with the Grand National Championship coming to town in the midst of all the excitement.
The Indy Mile at the Indiana State Fairgrounds in Indianapolis, Ind., returns to the 2014 schedule on August 8, 2014 and the event will once again coincide with both the Indiana State Fair and MotoGP’s state-side return for the Red Bull Indianapolis GP at Indianapolis Motor Speedway.
Next up is the second and final TT of the season, and the granddaddy of them all, scheduled for August 17, 2014 at Peoria Race Park in Peoria, Ill. Henry Wiles has owned the Peoria TT for nearly an entire decade and he will look to collect his 10th win at the Midwest venue next season. The Peoria TT has been a staple on the Grand National circuit since 1947 and still packs the hillsides with spectators eager to watch the high-flying singles takes to the track.
After a successful inauguration to the Grand National scene last season, Colonial Downs will host
Round 13 of the AMA Pro Flat Track schedule on August 23, 2014. The 1.25 mile-long circuit, located in New Kent, Va., measures in as the largest track on the schedule and will surely provide for some thrilling racing action.
Following the second Springfield Mile event on Labor Day weekend, the season wraps up with two final bouts on the west coast with the Santa Rosa Mile in Santa Rosa, Calif. on September 28, 2014 and the Flat Track Season Finale on October 11, 2014 at the LA County Fairplex in Pomona, Calif. These two races proved to be critical at the tail-end of last season, as Brad Baker, Bryan Smith and Brandon Robinson were neck-and-neck going down the homestretch of 2013. In the end it was Baker who sealed the final victory at Pomona to cap off an amazing season and capture the coveted No. 1 plate.
Complete 2014 AMA Pro Flat Track Schedule
- March 13 – Daytona Flat Track I, Daytona Beach, Fla.
- March 14 – Daytona Flat Track II, Daytona Beach, Fla.
- May 25 – Springfield Mile I, Springfield, Ill.
- June 15 – Knoxville Half-Mile, Knoxville, Iowa
- June 28 – Lima Half-Mile, Lima, Ohio
- July 5 – Hagerstown Half-Mile, Hagerstown, Md.
- July 19 – Grays Harbor Half-Mile, Elma, Wash.
- July 26 – Sacramento Mile, Sacramento, Calif.
- August 2 – Castle Rock TT, Castle Rock, Wash.
- August 5 – Sturgis Half-Mile, Rapid City, S.D.
- August 8 – Indy Mile, Indianapolis, Ind.
- August 17 – Peoria TT, Peoria, Ill.
- August 23 – Colonial Downs Mile, New Kent, Va.
- August 31 – Springfield Mile II, Springfield, Ill.
- September 28 – Santa Rosa Mile, Santa Rosa, Calif.
- October 11 – Flat Track Season Finale, Pomona, Calif.
AMA Pro Racing is the premier professional motorcycle racing organization in North America, operating a full schedule of events and championships for a variety of motorcycle disciplines. Learn more about AMA Pro Racing at www.amaproracing.com.
What Is Ethanol?
By Bandit |
1. What is Ethanol?
Ethanol is referred to as grain alcohol or ethyl alcohol. It is used in alcoholic beverages, but is also used in gasoline as an oxygenate. Ethanol used in gasoline applications is denatured which means that it contains a bittering agent in it to prevent it from being consumed by humans. Ethanol is used in gasoline typically at 10 volume percent (E-10) but can be found at higher concentrations in flex fuel vehicles which contain 85 percent ethanol. More recently E-15 has been introduced which is 15 percent ethanol.
Ethanol is fermented from starches such as corn, wheat, grain sorghum, barley and potatoes and well as from sugar crops such as sugar cane and sweet sorghum. Ethanol as an alternative fuel source was originally designed to use renewable resources in order to minimize the United States reliance on foreign oil.
2. How does ethanol harm my equipment?
Ethanol in concentrations of 10 to 15 volume percent can cause rust and corrosion in the fuel systems, soften hoses, cause deposits to form in injectors and carburetors and in the presence of high percentages of water can cause the fuel and water to separate leaving water phase in direct contact with metal surfaces. Over long storage periods these problems get even worse.
3. What is the difference between E-10 and E-15?
The difference is the percentage of ethanol in the fuel. E-10 contains ten volume percent ethanol whereas E-15 contains fifteen volume percent ethanol. Right now E-10 is the most prevalent grade out there. It is designed to oxygenate fuel and help reduce emissions during winter months. E-10 is federally mandated in all states. E-15 is not a federal mandate. It is voluntary. Fueling stations must disclose which pumps are E-10 and E-15 in order to protect the consumer’s vehicle investment. E-15 is not recommended for use in motorcycles, boats and cars older than 2002 due to concerns about equipment damage.
4. Why is there such an impact difference on my equipment in just a 5% point difference?
Ethanol absorbs water so an additional 5 percent ethanol would allow more water to be brought into the fuel. The problem is that the fuel/ethanol/water mixture reaches a saturation point causing the fuel/ethanol phase to separate from the water phase allowing the water to be in direct contact with metal surfaces. This creates an environment for rust and corrosion to occur especially in long storage periods.
5. Why are motor manufacturers having difficulties in keeping up with the need to adapt for use in ethanol?
Engine manufacturers have kept up with the introduction of higher concentrations of ethanol by making flex fueled vehicles which can run on E-85, gasoline, E-10 and E-15. These systems typically have hoses and connections that are designed to withstand the softening properties associated with ethanol. The problem is that most engines made today are designed for use with straight gasoline or E-10. Anything above that creates issues.
6. What products can I put in my fuel to help the effects of ethanol?
There are a number of products that are designed to be used in ethanol fuels. Some claim to remove water, some claim to bring the water/ethanol/gasoline separation back into one phase, some claim to inhibit rust and corrosion while removing deposits in the carburetor and injectors. Different products have various types of additive chemistries present to achieve these performance claims. Lucas recommends using our Safeguard Ethanol Fuel Conditioner & Stabilizer. It is designed to inhibit rust and corrosion while removing deposits from the entire fuel system including carburetors and fuel injectors. It also has very effective oxidation inhibitors in it to extend the life of the fuel during long storage periods, typically up to one year. Our product does not remove water as that can only be achieved by adding Isopropyl alcohol or by adding more ethanol fuel.
7. What makes Lucas Oil Products superior to others on the market?
We have looked at many competitive products on the market and they make different performance claims on their labels. Hopefully they have all of the test data to back up these performance claims. All of the performance claims that we make on our label are backed up with performance data from our major additive supplier. We pride ourselves on making the highest quality product for ethanol fuel applications. We typically do not trash talk competitive products on the performance claims they make. Our product is designed to be used in both 4-stroke and 2-stroke engines. The treat rate is 1 fluid ounce per 5 gallons of fuel.
8. What retail locations can I find Lucas Oil?
We market our products throughout the United States and have sales representatives in all states. We typically market our products in automotive retail shops such as AutoZone, O’Reilleys, NAPA Auto, Pep Boys, Advanced Auto, Factory Motor Parts as well as independent distributors for smaller shops. You will find our products in Walmart, but we do not market directly to them.
9. Are there other products I can use on my equipment to help with the effects of alcohol?
Besides our Safeguard product we also have a fuel stabilizer which can be used in ethanol fuels to extend the life of the fuel during extended storage periods.
10. What are the positive attributes of ethanol?
•Reduces carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide, hydrocarbon and oxide of nitrogen emissions over straight gasoline•Improves octane value in gasoline since it is an oxygenate. Increased octane improves combustion and performance•It is considered a low cost alternative fuel source
11. What are the economic benefits to ethanol?
•Widely used and easy to use•Creates domestic jobs and reduces our dependence on foreign oil. This has an effect of increasing our nation’s energy independence while reducing our trade deficit•Protects our national security by providing an alternative fuel source for tactical and combat military equipment. The United States Air force is the largest user of petroleum products worldwide and plans on converting over 50% of their fuel sources to bio-fuels in an effort to reduce our dependence on foreign oil especially during war time.
12. Why isn’t the price spread of E10 and E85 more significant?
I’m sorry, but I do not know that answer.
13. Ethanol has been pegged as a renewable fuel. What does that mean and are there benefits?
By definition, a renewable resource is a natural resource that can be replaced through biological or other natural processes and replenished after some time. They are part of natural environment but they are endangered by industrial developments and growth. Solar radiation, biomass, tides, geothermal, and winds are examples of renewable resources. Ethanol fuel is considered renewable because crops can be regrown to process the feedstock back into ethanol. Corn which is the major source of ethanol is a renewable resource.
14. Are there differences in ethanol versus gas in relation to performance in the engine?
One gallon of pure ethanol contains about 66 percent as much energy as a gallon of gasoline. A gallon of E85, a common blend of 85 percent ethanol and 15 percent gasoline, contains about 71 percent as much energy as a gallon of unblended gasoline.
Drivers who use E85 can expect about 15 percent less fuel economy than they would get with gasoline. Other performance factors such as power, acceleration, and cruising speed are essentially equivalent in vehicles burning E85 and conventional fuels.
•The ethanol in E-10 Unleaded adds two to three points of octane to gasoline, thus helping to improve engine performance while keeping engine parts cleaner. It does so using a natural, renewable additive that works as well in older engines as it does in newer ones.•The ethanol in E-10 Unleaded helps keep your engine cooler because the ethanol (alcohol) in the fuel combusts at a lower temperature.•The ethanol in E-10 Unleaded keeps fuel injectors cleaner-helping improve engine performance. It does not increase corrosion, nor will it harm any seals or valves.•The “cleansing” nature of E-10 Unleaded with ethanol can actually keep your fuel system cleaner, leading to improved performance.•E-10 Unleaded is perfectly acceptable in lawn mowers, snowmobiles, and other small engines, and may be used anywhere that unleaded gasoline is used.
15. States such as Missouri recently passed a law concerning the right to conceal the ethanol percentage in fuel. What effect does this have at the customers end?
This would be bad. Not all engines are designed to be run on E-85 or E-15 fuel. E-10 is an accepted percentage that provides environmental benefits. E-15 for instance is not recommended for use in pre-2000 automobiles, motorcycles or boats as per the EPA. Secondly, flex fuels are equipped with special hoses and fittings that can withstand the effects of high concentrations of ethanol. I could see this decision creating all kinds of engine failures and complaints.
16. Does Ethanol reduce harmful emissions?
E-10 and E-85 reduces carbon dioxide emissions by up to 30%. This helps reduce Green House Gases (GHG).
17. What other engines will this effect that I may own and where should I apply Lucas Oil products?
E-15 fuels should not be used in pre-2000 vehicles, motorcycles or boats. You can use our Safeguard Ethanol Fuel Treatment or our Fuel Stabilizer.
18. How long can I store ethanol versus gasoline?
Typically, the shelf life of ethanol fuels is about 3 to 4 months if it is not stabilized. Adding a stabilizer to the fuel will help extend the shelf life. It also depends on where the vehicle is stored. If it is stored in a covered enclosed garage with little humidity in the area then the shelf life will be longer. If it stored in the exposed environment, in humid conditions then it is likely to pick up moisture quicker. This is called hygroscopic. Gasoline shelf life varies. It could be from a couple of months to a couple of years again based on its storage location. Stabilizers will help extend the life of the fuel and prevent the formation of varnish, gums and deposits.
19. If I am concerned about the trend to more blended gasoline, what can I do about it?
First of all, always try to get straight gasoline or E-10. If you do happen to get E-15 then absolutely use an ethanol fuel additive with every fill-up and stabilizers during long storage periods.
20. What other blended fuels are in the works that we may see on the horizon?
Other than E-15 I am not aware of any new blends coming at this point.
21. Could the effects of ethanol fuel lead our vehicle manufacturers to launch better technology in electric motors?
The EPA is driving the use of ethanol fuels as part of the United States alternative fuels program. Gasoline is made from crude oil which is a non-renewable source, whereas ethanol is a renewable fuel source, so I don’t see us abandoning the production of ethanol fuels anytime soon. It makes us less dependent on foreign oil sources and is an alternative to fuels generated from crude sources. This is critical to military operations which are affected by crude oil supply issues from foreign countries.
Non-Stop Mods by Asian Dan
By Bandit |
Editor’s Note: The Bikernet staff supports the new series of Editor’s Choice bike shows created by Chris Callen of Cycle Source. They were created to give guys an opportunity to meet magazine editors and hopefully get their bikes featured in national magazines. Bikernet was one of the original supporters and the only Internet magazine in the mix. The Broken Spoke folks stepped up and have kindly sponsored this series of shows, even the competition at the Las Vegas Bike Fest in conjunction with the Artistry in Iron Show also sponsored by Cycle Source.
At Sturgis Bike Week, Rogue, our senior Bikernet correspondent and tech editor, was on hand at the Broken Spoke to pick the Bikernet Editor’s Choice recipient and handle the photographic duties.
“This is a good example of what a lot of the younger riders are riding,” said Rogue, “and this bike is ridden! Chris Callen, of Cycle Source and Vincent Stemp, of IronWorks, pointed it out to me, and I thought it would be a good one because if you look closely, there is a lot. I arrived just as the judging was going on and the crew was going over the bikes they had picked.
“Dan is typical of the new generation biker. He works on his own bike and tries things. He and the motorcycle reminded me of the old days and I thought he deserved to get an award for that.
“And he does ride it all over the place. I like that as well. I think doing a feature on him will inspire others to work on their rides and enter them in this type of show. It is a ride-in show!”
–Rogue
There you have it. I like to say, “I can’t leave anything alone.” I modify my toaster if given half a chance. Dan takes it to another level. He can’t stop modifying his motorcycle. Since Sturgis ’13 he has changed the length of his pipes twice and is looking for Triumph-styled megaphones to alter the tips again.
“I have no dog or a girlfriend,” said Dan, “but who the hell needs them anyway? My girlfriend is my bike. Takes me where I wanna go, and never complains about the things I buy for her.”
Dan started riding around 10 years of age, on his dad’s ’86 FXR. “Went to HOG rallies in Louisiana and some poker runs,” Dan said. “I was on the back when we
hit some pea gravel in a sharp left on a hill. Dad laid the FXR down, and I was dragged behind it as we slid along the road.” Dad had road rash but jumped up, dusted himself off and we rode it home, 1.5 hours away. “We sold the FXR.”
“Dad gave me his ‘89 Heritage Softail back in ’05, said Dan. “I eventually started to notice how cool Sporties were becoming.” Dan picked up the Asian Dan moniker on the streets of Denver. “I’m half white and half Vietnamese, and I had lots of riding pals named Dan, and several local band members. The Asian Dan title separated me from the masses and stuck.”
In August of ’08, Dan bought the ‘99 Sportster XLC 883 (custom). It came with a 21-inch front and a solid aluminum rear with extra chrome for the custom look (the model lasted from ’99 to ’09). “I started chopping it immediately,” Dan said, “making it my own.” Initially, he started off with rigid struts, and then since he lives in Denver, the natural choice would be to hang out with Irish Rich, one of the frame masters at Shamrock Fabrication or Irish Rich Custom Cycles and discuss the prospects.
Rich suggested the Led Sled tail section for fitment and strength. “Some 95 percent of my rigid Sportster mods include using the Led Sled tail,” said Irish Rich. “They are straight forward and strong.” Rich cut the backbone of the frame just behind the top motor mount and about center under the transmission. “It forms a good line from the next to the axle plates,” Rich said. “No hump. It eliminates almost half of the stock frame.”
The Led Sled unit comes with slugs welded into place. Rich plug-welded the slugs and seam-welded the mating surfaces. The tail section was manufactured with .120 wall thickness mild steel tubing.
I asked Rich for recommendations for future customers.
“I’ve build about 20 of these frames,” Rich said. “They are a breeze, and in this case, we used the original belt drive system, but they can be touchy. It’s best to shift to chain. On 2000 and up models the rear caliper can be used. In some cases we can swing the rear caliper up like a Softail. And I always recommend 2-inch shorter tubes to level out the riding position.” An article on a Rich-modified frame was published a handful of years ago in the August 2010 issue of IronWorks magazine. We may bring you an expanded version to Bikernet shortly.
[photo 429004]
Of course, Asian Dan is still making changes, and he recently ordered a set of 6-inch over tubes from Forking by Frank, against the Irish Rich recommendation, but what the hell?
This is me losing to Jay
“I’ve flat-tracked the bike several times, in the local Hooligans class,” said Dan. In ’09 he rode to Sturgis with struts; then in ’10 he rode to the Smoke Out West in Santa Rosa, New Mexico on the rigid. In ’10, he also rode the rigid with not so tall pipes to Sturgis and drag raced against Jay Allen three times. The first time he lost, but the second time, Jay missed a shift on his military looking Shovelhead and Dan won. “We’ve got to race again,” Jay said, and so be it.
It was close, but Jay won the final race. In ’11 Dan rode the 400-mile trek to Sturgis once more with pipes 2 feet longer than this version. “They hung in there fine,” Dan said, since most brothers know tall pipes and sissy bars, especially on rigids, don’t hang for long.
“Bullshit,” Rich said. “When he got back, I pointed out the cracks in the pipes.” Just recently, he saved the day with hose clamps and turnbuckles. “I have to admit,” Dan said, “the longer the pipes the more power I lose, but some of these puppies are louder when I let off the gas.”
Jay loses to me.
“At first, I called it the addiction,” Dan said, “because I was addicted to riding it, and it was all I thought about when off the bike.”
But he kept altering the bike. He’s changed the clutch and shifting mechanism three times, from stock to right side and back to the left.
“It’s now called ‘Spacin’ Out’,” Dan said. “I found the back seat at the Sturgis swap meet last year. I painted the backside of the sissybar myself. There’s a galaxy and a planet, and it shows my right hand on the grip. I’m spacin’ out when I ride. I love to ride.”
He trucked out to the west coast for the Born Free 5, and then rode all over Southern California. “My bars were made of stainless steel by a B. Wagner from Maryland,” Dan said. “They are very narrow lane splitters. They came in handy when I was in SoCal for Born Free fighting traffic.”
It’s a non-stop project. “I handled all the engraving myself,” said Dan. “I’m learning and started practicing on the bike. The stripes on the rear tire I saw on a dirty Shovel in Japan. It had car tires on it, like an old stock car racer. I just thought it looked mean. Plus it looks cool at 10 mph.”
Dan is going to buy a welder and teach himself to weld after work at his job making cardboard boxes at International Paper. He’s been on the job for ten years. “Thadius, the blacksmith helps with all my welding projects and mods to my pipes, like the Trumpet ends like Jack Nicholson rode in Rebel Rousers. Thadius also helped me with the bracket for my jockey shifter setup.”
(The round tubes on the clutch and brake puddles are a ride-to-Sturgis temporary fix, the adjustments are about maxed out.)
“I ride year-round in Denver,” Dan said. “If it’s not below 32 degrees in the sun, and the roads are clear, I’ll ride if only for an hour.” So, is this guy a biker or what?
BIKERNET SORTA COBBLED TOGETHER TECH CHART
Owner: Dan Townsend, aka Asian Dan
Bike name: Spacin’ Out
City/state: Arvada, Colorado
Builder: led sled/ Irish Rich/me/ Thadius the Blacksmith,etc
Fabrication: Irish Rich / Thadius the Blacksmith /me, etc
Welding: many different people, ha I need to get myself a welder!
Engine
Year:1999 XL Stock
Make: H-D
MODEL: XLC
Displacement: 883, now 1200
Builder: Thunderbird motorcycles did it
Air cleaner: cheap velocity stack
Kicker: I wish, haha
Frame
Make and model: H-D XLC
Rake: stock
Modifications: Led Sled hardtail added
By: Irish Rich
Front end
Model: Stock glide
Legs: maybe 6-over in the future
Other: Fork shrouds from LowBrow Customs
Wheels
Front
Make and size: H-D 21-inch
Front brake: H-D
Tire: Shinko Trials
Rear
Make and size: stock solid mag 16-inch
Rear brake: H-D
Tire: Michelin modified
Controls
Mid controls: stock modified by Thadius
Hand controls: front brake master – street bike
Shifting: jockey
Foot clutch: the original forward control rear brake lever flipped backwards on left side
Accessories
Headlight: 10 watt high power LED x 2
Tail light: LED
Seat: Sturgis swapmeet
Engraving: By Owner
Gas Tanks: 2.2 painted by Mikey at Shitbird Customs
Handlebars: Stainless lane-splitters by B. Wagner in Maryland
Dan Townsend panda_8_6@yahoo.com
http://www.shamrockfabrication.com/
http://www.ledsledcustoms.com/
“Why We Ride” Movie Premiere
By Bandit |
When you talk about stellar motorcycle movies, several pop into gear, notably Brando’s The Wild One (1953), Bruce Brown’s On Any Sunday (1971) and The World’s Fastest Indian (2005) concerning Burt Munro. A fourth bike film just premiered “Why We Ride”, may be added to that A-List. It’s already won Best Feature Documentary at the First Annual Motorcycle Film Festival held September 26-28, 2013 in Brooklyn. Then on the following Thursday night, October 3, a couple thousand movers and shakers from the motorcycle industry, as well as many of those who appeared in the full-feature film filled the theater at the The Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences in Beverly Hills, CA.
During the onstage introduction of the independently financed film under the aegis of WalkingWest Entertainment and Gnarlyow entertainment, its Director/Producer Bryan H.Carroll commented that as the project developed the “We” part became the major factor, that being the people involved in the sport, from the Daytona 200 winners, to the solo globe trotters, to motocross competitors, to Bonneville record setters (male and female), to the families who ride together, to the vintage bike fans…each with a unique story but all with a common connection, the intense passion for riding and the physical, mental and yes, spiritual, elements that come with the territory.
Carrol thanked the some 70 people interviewed for the film, the hundreds who participated in its production and especially the technical expertise provided by Ed Kretz, Jr. as well as the thousands who appeared in the footage beautifully photographed in HD by Andrew Waruszewski and Douglas Cheney. Lending a very dramatic element, especially in the opening montage, was the original music created by Steven Gutheinz. It sometimes contained the impact of the epic soundtrack from Lord of the Rings or Chariots of Fire. The audience literally gave the film’s opening a huge round of applause.
The scope of the film was both large in canvas and tightly focused, from covering
panoramic events like Sturgis to close-ups on the indivuals who made motorcycling history, past, present and future as well. The audience was transported to a wide spectrum of locales from the Bonneville Salt Flats to urban environments to serene country lanes to the knee-dragging hyper-action of Moto GP, to families bonding in sand dunes. The film’s narrative moved with a similar pace, well-composed by writer Chris Hampel with input from Director/Producer Carroll and Producer James Walker.
A list of those who assisted and supported the production included many iconic companies, organizations and shops including the AMA, Triumph, BMW, the ISC, Arlen Ness, Klockwerks, Bikernet.com, the Daytona International Speedway, the WMDRA, the Motorcycle Hall of Fame, the Trailblazers and many others.
Some of the truly inspirational highlights for this reviewer/rider were the up-close and personals focusing on Ted Simon and Dave Barr. In the 1970s Ted Simon spent four years riding a 500cc Triumph Tiger 100 solo around the planet and penned the classic Jupiter’s Travels, then in 2001 at age 70 did it again on a BMW R80GS. Dave Barr, a military veteran of many wars, who lost both legs in Angola, went on to ride 83,000 miles becoming the first double amputee to circumnavigate the globe. Both men epitomized the “true grit” of motorcycling but moreover in the lessons both men both learned about themselves and the world at large and their efforts to carry positive messages to all the planet’s cultures. Again, it was a matter of “We” and the concept of global human connectivity.
Other highlights included seeing and hearing from the Klock family of Klock Werks Kustom Cycles…Brian, wife Laura and daughters Erika and Karlee…mother and daughters having earned the accolade as the fastest mother-daughter-daughter trio in history of Bonneville, all three recording near 200 mph. While many in the audience knew of the exploits of the larger than life Ed “Iron Man” Kretz, Sr. and his many “firsts” we got to see and hear from his family, which added to our appreciation of the man and his accomplishments.
This reviewer then enjoyed the post-film hobknobbing that included cheeseburger sliders and beverages, and listened in on comments about the film which had elicited very positive audience response as evidenced by several waves of applause, whistling and hurrahs during the end credits. For this reviewer, and others in the audience, the film could shed a few minutes of screen time and tighten up a bit in a couple of the segments, but overall it was as they say, a “hit” and a film to further the image of motorcycling and hopefully the undertaking of the motorcycle experience by new riders. Distribution news looks very good for both U.S. and overseas audiences, so watch for it soon wherever you are.
Following in the tread marks of “Why We Ride”, the production company is working on a new documentary feature film about the legendary Ed “Iron Man” Kretz, Sr. For more information about screenings of the film in your area, check out http://whyweridefilm.com.
Geo Art Shop Specializing In Biker Jewelry from Athens, Greece
By Bandit |
The Geo Art Shop is a jewelry store located in the city of Athens, Greece. Except from traditional Greek silver art, its specialty is jewelry related to the biker culture and philosophy, all handmade in both silver and gold. All of his biker collections are made by Sterling Silver 925.
Geo Art Shop was founded 5 years ago by the author, at 33 years old, and a fanatical biker. The shop is located in the historic center of Plaka, Athens in a maze of narrow cobblestone walking streets lined with shops and restaurants.
Here we will present you with his masterpiece – a replica solid silver springer front end – and its manufacturing process in three steps.
Next week we will see the manufacturing process for a different item!
For anymore info please check with George.
Click for Facebook page.
Or you can e-mail George at geoartshop@yahoo.gr
Sturgis Motorcycle Museum Experience For October 2013
By Bandit |
The Indian Papoose motor scooter was developed after World War II and was based on an earlier motor scooter called the Welbike, which was actually built for the British Army. The Welbikes were designed to fit into a standard parachute airdrop container 51 inches long, 15 inches high, and 12 inches wide.
The idea was that these little scooters could be dropped from airplanes, easily assembled on the ground, and ridden by soldiers. In practice, there were some problems – a scooter and soldier both parachuting at the same time could land far from one another. The scooters were also under powered when it came to carrying a fully-equipped soldier. Fewer than 4,000 of the Welbikes were manufactured and they were seldom used for the purpose for which they were designed.
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After the war, John Dolphin – who had been an engineer on the Welbike project – saw an opportunity to re-design these little scooters for the civilian market. Seeing a need for cheap transportation after the war, Dolphin partnered with Brockhouse engineering to create the British Corgi. Many of these motor scooters were sent to the United States and re-branded as the Indian Papoose.
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The proto-type for the new Corgi/Papoose was first unveiled in 1946. While the scooter still had the fold-down handlebars and seats, the differences between this new prototype and the Welbike were vast. The new machines had a conventional gravity fed fuel tank located in front of the seat where traditional gas tanks were.
Weight was no longer a consideration since these new scooters would not be parachuted from planes, so the new models had a more solid frame than the Welbike. The prototype had an Excelsior Spryt engine, mudguards, front and rear brakes and lights. The early models were push-starts, but the 1949 model in the Sturgis Motorcycle Museum has a more traditional kick start. The Corgi/Papoose was manufactured from 1947 to 1954, with over 27,000 units made during that time.
For more info here are a couple of link to clubs:
http://www.indianpapooseclub.org/papoose.htm
http://www.indianpapooseclub.org
KILLING MACHINE CHOPPERS -The Good Ol Days Chapter 2
By Bandit |
I met Algie while chatting in a chat room in late 2004. We hit it off immediately. We shared a love for Rockabilly music and old Harleys. Bikers like Algie are few and far between and we soon developed a friendship.
After a year or so of “chatting”, Algie invited me to Southern California to see his shop. I had heard horror stories about axe-murderers on the internet and terrible internet dates. I politely declined but we continued to chat. Finally, in 2006, I told him that I would meet him at Laughlin in April. The death of a friend prevented me from being able to get away. I think Algie had just about given up on me.
In June, Algie rode up to Port Costa, California to ride to the Redwood Run in Piercy with some friends. One of his friends, Sharki (AKA the Ranga Loser Yank) called and told me that she asked Algie what he wanted for his birthday. He told her that he really wanted to meet me and wanted me to go to the Redwood Run with them. Sharki said she would fly me into Oakland as a surprise for Algie if I would agree to go. To say that I was flattered that Algie would use a birthday wish on me is an understatement. So I packed a bag and boarded a flight for Oakland the next day.
I don’t know when she finally let him in on the birthday surprise but Algie met me at the airport holding a sign that said “HUN” (the nickname he gave me because my screen name was HarleyDHoney). I almost tripped coming down the ramp because I was laughing so hard. He was holding the sign upside down! I think it was the sign that won me over.
I was so nervous on the day that I left that I forgot to eat all day. When we got to Port Costa, we went to the Warehouse (the local watering hole) for a drink, or three. No food plus three Captain and Cokes means that I was one sick girl. My first night in town was spent throwing up while Algie held my hair. What a great first impression, right?
A couple of days later, it was time to leave for the Redwood Run.
“All 60s-style” was Algie’s battle cry that week and that morning was no different. We all met in front of Sharki’s house ready to go. I stood beside the coolest relic of a flatside shovel chop I have ever seen: the Illinois Nazi. I held my breath as Algie kicked it. It tried to buck but Algie gave it all he had and it backfired! Not to be outdone by a shovelhead he lifted his leg to kick again but the kicker pedal was hanging there like a limp noodle. Screw it! All 60s-style, right? The guys push started the Nazi and I jumped on the bare fender with our extra set of clothes and the tool bag in a backpack (that we later nicknamed “Shamu”). And we were off.
The trip started out without incident. Because of the Nazi’s peanut tank, we had to stop for gas every 50 miles. At the first gas stop I announced that the backpack and I needed to part ways. I didn’t realize at the time but the tool bag was on top and the weight of it was pulling on me. Algie said that he would strap “Shamu” to the tank and off we went. The others weren’t ready yet so they said they would catch up.
About 5 miles north of Ukiah, California (120 miles or so into our 190 mile ride), we were cruising along doing about 65 mph in the fast lane when everything locked up. That’s right….65 to zero! We slid across both lanes to the shoulder. What could have ended badly was handled expertly by this man that I was beginning to admire. Algie removed the Derby cover. There was actually smoke billowing out of the primary and the primary chain was so tight that you could hear it “pinging”. Algie lowered his KDs over his eyes, looked up at me and said, “I ain’t never seen no shit like this before.” Oh boy…I figured if this man had never seen it, it had never been done.
A few kind people stopped and offered help. We assured them that our friends weren’t far behind us. One helpful guy in a motor home with out-of-state plates even diagnosed the problem for us. Algie had put a magneto on this cool old shovelhead but there was still a battery from days past and after you rode for a while the battery would get a good charge and the headlight would stay on until the battery died again. So this tourist in this HUGE motor home looks at me and says, “I see the problem. The headlight won’t shut off.” I was just about to laugh thinking that surely he must be joking…but he was quite serious. I smiled and very slowly explained why the headlight was on. He left in a huff. Apparently he thought that I should just stand there and look pretty.
Finally our friends arrived and we began to discuss what we were going to do next. Just as we decided to call a tow truck this guy pulls up on the other side of the highway with an empty flatbed trailer. He told us he knew of a small motorcycle shop back in Ukiah. We sent our friends ahead to the Redwoods and we rode back into Ukiah with our new friend.
We walked into this little Mom and Pop bike shop and the kid that rescued us tells the owner that he brought him a “broken down shovelhead”. The owner’s response was, “NOT ANOTHER SHOVELHEAD?!?!” Algie explained to the owner that this wasn’t just any shovelhead but a first year shovelhead. The old biker’s face softened a bit and he said, “Oh…a ’66…I have one right over there.” Algie smiled and said, “Oh, good! That means you have parts in stock.” At this remark the owner eyed Algie with a little suspicion. The guy was busy but gave us the use of his tools and a corner of his shop.
It only took about 10 minutes for Algie to figure out what was wrong. The motor nut had backed out and bounced around in the primary until it got caught up and walked the primary chain on top of the clutch teeth which is why it locked up. He then took a look at the broken kicker pedal. He figured since we were already down, he might as well fix it all at once. Turns out when the old Nazi backfired back in Port Costa, Algie kicked it so hard that it that he had never seen “no shit like this before.”
Algie purchased a primary chain and a kicker gear and borrowed a huge mallet and a chisel. The shop owner’s wife looked at him with some doubt but handed him the requested items. She and I left Algie to it and went and bought some burgers for lunch.
After a couple hours and a few burgers, we were once again back on the road. Only 70 miles to go…what else could go wrong, right?
Let me tell you what else could go wrong. First, the bike started “missing” so Algie went to kick the magneto to adjust the timing and his leg got sucked up against the velocity stack and when he pulled it loose, he pulled the carb clean off the manifold. He fixed that and then 13 miles from the front gate of the Redwood Run, everything locked up again. Algie figured it might be the main bearing. He looked at me and said, “Fuck this ‘60’s style’ shit….I have AAA!” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and discovered that cell phone reception was pretty much non-existent in the redwoods.
We pushed the bike about 100 yards to the parking area of an abandoned Diner. I sat in the shade while Algie thought about what to do. He decided to put it in gear and rock it back and forth to see if he could bust it loose. It was locked up good. After a few minutes of deep concentration he laid the bike down on the primary side hoping maybe the oil would run down in there so he could get it to loosen up. He stood the bike back up and tested the kicker pedal….it moved! He told me to be ready to jump on because if it started he was taking off. It started! I threw Shamu on my back and jumped on the back still buckling my helmet strap as we rode off.
Finally…the front gate of the Redwood Run! Algie stopped short of the gate and called the guy over. He handed the guy our tickets and said, “I can’t shut this off and you might want to clear the way because it’s acting a little sketchy.” Algie let out the clutch and it swerved left and the guy at the gate pushed a lady out of our path. Then it swerved right and the ticket guy had to dive in the bushes to avoid being hit. We start down the hill and Algie yells, “We have no brakes!” Oh boy, I pulled my knees in a little tighter and hung on while Algie started yelling, “Buoy room!” We made it through all the turns to the straightaway. Algie is looking for a place to crash land the Nazi and I realize that we are headed straight for the “pit” and a huge crowd of people. I calmly point this out and Algie makes a hard right…right into a shrub! Out of breath, he goes to put the kickstand down and the spring goes flying. It is dusk and I am crawling around looking for a kickstand spring. Found it! He fixes the kickstand and collapses to the ground. People come running shouting about how cool that landing was. Algie starts telling me that due to his extensive training in rocket trajectory, he was able to ascertain that this particular shrub was the perfect place to stop the Nazi. Rolling my eyes, I part the shrub and the front wheel is hanging over the overhang above the river. Rocket trajectory, huh?
We couldn’t find our friends so we camped out on the side of the road and caught up with them the next morning.
We were enjoying the “60’s style campout” (no tent…just a sleeping bag and a bottle of wine) until it started to rain. Algie “MacGuyvered” us a tent with a garbage bag and some “borrowed” caution tape. He cut the garbage bag and used the caution tape to anchor it to the Nazi’s front end. He dubbed it the “Honeymoon Suite”.
This is just the beginning of a beautiful partnership that is still going strong 7 years later. Stay tuned for the next installment!
Las Vegas BikeFest Cranks Up the Volume
By Bandit |
BikeFest returned to Las Vegas for its 13th edition, with a twist.
New this year was headliner entertainment, a killer contemporary art show, and vendors peddling the fleshy wares that have made Sin City famous. Also noted—a growing Big Wheel trend in bike building. Super-sized front wheels reaching cartoonish heights were hung on baggers, sometimes paired with super-fat rear tires and making the most pragmatic of bikes less than practical.
Unofficially, the event looks to be gaining attendance, adding vendors and for the first time in its history, big bands were featured. Some 30,000 enthusiasts rolled in for the four-day event, held Oct. 3-6.
In previous years, the BikeFest sent attendees down the Vegas Strip for their amusements, offering only local live music under a makeshift tent. The event has taken a step toward major rally status by inviting Foghat, Blue Oyster Cult and rising country star, Joe Nichols, to perform on a new main stage.
Las Vegas has throttled back to its randy roots after a largely failed attempt at being a family destination. This comes as a relief, seeing the town at least trying to live up to its long running “What Happens” tagline. Sin City is more biker-welcome than ever since daycare centers, kid clubs and Disney movie marathons have been replaced by a mostly adults-only ride. Also gone are the annoying gauntlets of strip club and limo service card passers who clogged the Strip, pressing glossy, R-rated and germy ads into your hand.
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The rally met with unseasonably cool temperatures and blustery winds, which made early morning riding brisk and late evening shenanigans and concert going chilly, but provided almost ideal conditions for vendor crawls. It seemed fitting vendor booths included scantily clad representatives of the Chicken Ranch, Nevada’s best known home to legalized companionship, as well as well as Larry Flynt’s Hustler Club, and the Sapphire Gentlemen’s Club, generally regarded as the town’s best strip joint.
In contrast, the Sin City Art Gallery was a surprise and welcome addition, featuring avant-garde artists at work. Event goers enjoyed the added color, and even one cop said she “really liked” the artwork while pausing at one of the oil on canvas nudes.
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There was also the usual shuffle of biker parts, accessories and apparel, dominated by the standard T-shirts and leatherwear, menacing jewelry, assorted sunglasses, and ambulance chasers who promise to be one of us and on our side, for a healthy fee. Interesting exceptions included LeatherPatch.com, a new company offering artsy alternatives to the regular fabric patch, and Inferno Art Studio, which offers edgy, mixed media work on canvas.
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Attractions at the Vendor Village included the Miss BikeFest contest. In a town with a strip club on every corner, countless showgirls, burlesque performers and questionable adult entertainers, it seemed odd that only four women showed up to compete for the $1,000 first prize. Other events included the Mr. BikeFest competition, Bikini Bike Wash, Artistry in Iron Master Builder’s Championship, Poker Walk, $10,000 Poker Run, Biker Bingo, Baddest Bagger contest, Custom Bike Show, World’s Strongest Biker competition, Tattoo Contest, the Golden Nugget Hotel Motorcycle Giveaway, a Wet T-Shirt Contest, of course, and some expression of true American slobbery called Hog Out, where contestants ate as much pork as possible in two minutes. And people wonder how we became the fattest nation in history.
BikeFest ticket pricing felt like an exotic sports book. Admission to the Vendor Village at Cashman Center is included if registered for a Party or Ultimate Pass. This started at $35 pp and included a daily pass. If you didn’t register, prices went like this: Thursday: $15 and two-for-one admission for locals with ID
; Friday, $15 before 5:00 p.m. $30 after;
Saturday, $15 before 5:00 p.m. $30 after 5:00. Children 12 entered free, and Sunday was free for everybody, I think. I boxed Thursday, Friday and Saturday, skipped Sunday, and laid 10 bucks down on the trifecta. No official word yet on next year’s program.
As responsible journalists covering a rally in Sin City, we thought it only our duty to a sample some of the sin whether we liked it or not. So we took in some typical Vegas fare. X-Burlesque at the Flamingo Hotel is a nonstop ejaculation of throbbing song and sensual dance performed by a bevy of nearly naked beauties to a packed house of mostly smiling couples. The Travel Channel dubbed it “The sexiest show in Vegas.” That may be arguable if you compare it to more schmaltzy and ubiquitous Cirque du Soleil productions, but it doesn’t disappoint. Same goes for X-Rocks, appearing at a more intimate venue at the Rio All-Suite Hotel and Casino. A smaller but more hard driving show, it offers less subtlety, more pounding music and nonstop hair whipping, writhing pulchritude in a high-energy performance. We were entertained.
Also on our bill of fare was the Mob Attraction Las Vegas at the Tropicana Hotel and Casino. This is Disneyland for mob enthusiasts. The 27,000-sq.-ft. attraction recreates a fictional organized crime world using live actors, holograms recorded by tough-guy stars such as James Caan ,and other seedy Soprano types. Even Mickey Rourke makes a cameo appearance. Set aside a couple of hours for the self-guided walking tour; it’s well worth the time.
The Vegas Mob Tour, which starts and finishes at the Tropicana’s Mob Attraction and shares a ticketing agent but is otherwise unaffiliated, took us on a 2 ½ hour ride through Vegas, visiting former mobster hangouts, attempted murder spots, robbery crime scenes and the house where Robert De Niro and Sharon Stone filmed part of the fact-based movie, “Casino.” It also included a pizza dinner. The tour is best suited to mob history buffs. It’s interesting, but a bit soft around the edges. Staring at parking lot smudges and closed, nondescript buildings while being bounced through dense Vegas traffic in an airport van suggests a change of format might be considered. The pizza resembled something you might feat at Chucky Cheese.
Las Vegas BikeFest will reconvene at the city’s Cashman Center Oct. 2-5, 2014.
For more information, contact Las Vegas BikeFest, 866-245-3337; www.LasVegasBikeFest.com; email info@lasvegasbikefest.com.
Visit the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority website: http://www.visitlasvegas.com/vegas/index.jsp
An Authentic Biker’s Wallet Chain
By Bandit |
The item described this week can be worn by both men and women. It is George’s personal wallet chain. A Sterling silver 925 ,60 cm long, decorated with skulls and royal emblems such as “Fleur de lis” used here … a solid silver hand made chain with lot of details.
The chain is actually a unification of symbols, like Fleur- de- lis, skulls, crowns and why not- even more. These symbols are put together and manually adjusted with the usage of separate silver rings.
After having the parts of the chain ready and completed, we connect them one by one. In fact, George’s chain is consisted of 42 different parts, crowns, Fleurs- de liles and skulls.
It’s a long process to connect all pieces, takes approximately 10 days.
After final polishing, our chain is complete!
Next week we will see the manufacturing process of a new item, also very difficult, here it is!
Till then, have a nice week!
For any more info please check
GeoArt Shop Facebook pageOr you can email George at geoartshop@yahoo.gr
Further Adventures of The Borderland Biker – Chapter 8
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 Whitemyer.
Two seconds later and from what seemed like far underground I could hear Charon’s voice, “It’s not what I thought; I can’t get back out!”
“Empty all the water in your boots; don’t leave a drop,” shouted Hilts as he and Larry began pouring water from their own boots down the hole.
“Charon’s too?” I asked as I lifted one of them up to pour. “Won’t he need this water to get back to the Styx?”
The water from Hilts’ and Larry’s boots had slowed the closing of the portal. Charon’s voice sounded much closer. Behind us the town had suddenly changed into a cardboard cutout of a town. Every feature had been replicated in exact scale but in cardboard.
“Pour all the water down the hole or he won’t make it to the surface,” said Hilts as I emptied the water from Charon’s other boot into the opening in the ground.
Steaming like something squeezed from the backend of a horse on a cold day, Charon shot out of the quickly closing hole; when he was still three feet in the air the hole slammed shut.
Whatever strength he’d used to make it to the surface was nearly gone. Charon staggered forward a few feet then stumbled; he was barely able to stand. Larry ran to his side to keep him from falling.
“Who’d you find down there?”
“Not an old man or woman, there was no dreamer…I’ll tell you later,” gasped Charon, now completely enveloped in a cloud of steam.
A hundred yards of street lined with cardboard buildings, moments before wooden buildings, lay ahead of us. Once we were past them we’d be able to see the river Styx; but Charon wouldn’t make it, he was already beginning to fade. Maybe if we could find a shortcut, a door a window, but all doors and windows were now simply drawings of doors and windows on cardboard. Speaking of shortcuts, maybe we could cut our way through, maybe if we tore open one of the…and then Larry and Hilts thought of doing the same thing at the same time.
“We’ll burn ourselves a door. We don’t have the time or tools to cut ourselves a doorway to the other side nor do we have the strength to tear one,” yelled Hilts at the same time he and Larry lit both sides of a doorway that had been drawn on the cardboard.
But as if it had been soaked in gasoline the whole building, not just the doorway, burst into a wall of fire; we’d be cremated if we attempted to run through now.
Charon stumbled towards the fire which was spreading to other buildings, “Stay as close to me as possible.”
Instead of just surrounding everyone in a cloud of steam, Charon became a protective shower. Heat so intense I would’ve turned back had Hilts not grabbed my arm washed over us and then as quickly as it came it was gone; we’d passed through the flames.
Once on the other side, Charon, now practically transparent and as light as a feather, was lifted by Larry to his shoulders like you’d lift a small child so they could see a parade.
“Look,” yelled Larry, holding Charon over his head, “you can see it; you can see the river Styx from here!”
“Can’t see,” Charon said, struggling to look where Larry was pointing, and then he saw the river and suddenly grew so heavy Larry had to set him down.
“We came close,” said Hilts, as he rubbed his blisters, “to becoming toast; let’s get back to the river. Charon can regain his strength, I could use its healing powers on my hands, and you,” looking at me, “can get your eyebrows back.”
As Achilles was held by his heel when his mother bathed him in the river Styx, Larry and I bathed in the river Styx tied to a rope held by Charon standing on the bank. We healed fast and yet it seemed to take forever for one of us to get up the nerve to ask Charon what had happened when he dove down the hole underneath the rollercoaster.
Larry became the brave one, “I’m just glad you made it out of the hole, but tell us what happened; it didn’t seem you were down there long enough to stop anyone from dreaming.”
“Time’s a relative thing. I’ll explain someday how I was there long enough to not only see what was creating those dreams but to find out where they were coming from. It’s, in fact, the city with the airfield where Hilts is working.”
“The same city,” interjected Larry, where Hilts is working on the F-105?”
“Yes. And I found,” continued Charon, “a computer, not a person; it was in some type of sleep mode. I awakened it, but must’ve shorted it out before its systems could power up. It’ll take time for it to reset and become active again but it’ll eventually reboot. Ideally someone should go back and reprogram it not to enter the dreams of other people. Realistically you should destroy it and if possible from here.
“The terminal’s just a small laptop on a table in an empty alcove but the processor in the next room is big enough to fill the floor of a building. It’s in the city you and Hilts described. The city’s tiered with elevated highways and in sight of the airfield. The mystery, and I’ve visited every Borderland, is that the Styx joins them all together; some with tributaries much smaller than the stream I rescued you from near the village of Tres Pinos. The mystery, if in fact it really is a Borderland, is the river Styx doesn’t flow into it.”
“If the river Styx cannot flow to a Borderland then it has either been abandoned or it’s not really a Borderland. In either case entries into it will be hard to find. Your futuristic city, until I literally dropped in on it from the hole at the carnival, is one I’ve never heard of. More importantly, now that I have awakened it you’ll find it prepared to defend itself if you return.”
“How,” I asked, it’s just a computer?”
“It’ll most likely be back online by then and it’ll want to protect itself. My guess is it’ll treat you as if you’re a threat…which you are of course. Based upon the fact it was sending nightmares into Marnie’s Borderland we can assume the worst. It’s either malevolent or has been altered to do evil things. Whether by accident or design it’s dangerous.”
“Threat or not, I’ve no choice but to go back,” interjected Hilts. “The work on the F-105 is complete. I just need some extra time to assemble everything and I think I know of a way of getting that extra time. When Andy returns I’ll fly us to a small airport north of Gilroy; from there Andy can return home. As long as it’s nighttime Larry and I will be ok. After I’ve dropped all of you off I’ll fly back and finish my work.”
“My way for getting us that extra time is for you and Larry,” continued Hilts pointing at me, “to enter the city through a motorcycle shop in Gilroy and stop the computer from sending nightmares. Like I said, I’ve no choice; the window period for helping Ma n’ Pa is closing.”
“Why not just fly all of us on to the city;” I asked, “wouldn’t it be easier if we stuck together? And how do we even know this Gilroy motorcycle shop has an entrance that’ll get us into the city?”
Flames from town, once towering as high as the rollercoaster, had burned the cardboard structures to the ground; the few embers that remained were already being blown away by the wind. Behind the town was the carnival, still there and ready to invite children of all ages to come and have fun. It wouldn’t be long before Marnie dreamed of it again and returned with her friends. It had to be made safe.
When Hilts turned to answer the carnival’s neon lights reflected off his face, “I know it’s an entrance because a friend I trust used it to visit the city a number of times. His name’s Clark; he’s the head mechanic at Gilroy Motorcycle Center. He said you could ride there, but to accelerate and decelerate slowly; he said if you didn’t the Wheelers would stop you.”
“Clark said it was by accident he discovered written instructions on how to get to the city and how to behave once you were there. The instructions had been left on some bikes that’d been brought in for service. Clark wanted to sell them to pay for the unpaid bill but the shop’s owner picked up the tab and locked them in a backroom. The owner took the key to the room but not before Clark had made a duplicate.”
“It was when Clark was looking for the registrations that he found the instructions as well as directions on how to get to the city under each bike’s seat. When he showed them to Gilroy Motorcycle Center’s owner the owner just laughed, tore them up, and said to forget about it. Luckily Clark had, as with the key, made copies.”
Charon, now fully recovered, had finished coiling about a hundred feet of rope he’d pulled from the river Styx. He held the coil in one arm as effortlessly as if it had been loops of yarn, “I’ve got some loose ends,” laughed Charon, looking at the rope and at the same time transferring it to his shoulder, “no pun intended, I’ve got to tie up. For the computer to have dreams means Morpheus may have visited its programmer. If that’s true I’ve got to find Morpheus and learn how he got into the city. If I can I’ll retrace his route, find you, and help you in any way I can, but don’t count on it.”
“I’m normally not in favor of violent solutions and will pursue peaceful alternatives; but if you didn’t have to go back in and fly the F-105 out of there to save Ma n’ Pa I’d say the three of you focus on destroying the computer to protect the dreams of children then get out,” continued Charon staring directly at Hilts. “I just wish there were a way to do it from here. That place gives me the creeps. And to make matters worse something else was awakened. I felt its presence after I shorted out the computer. Whatever it is, it sensed I was there and came close to finding me before I fled like Alice but back up the rabbit hole.”
From far away the deep twin engine drone of an approaching B-25 interrupted our conversation. Growing louder, the big radials could be heard throttling back as Andy lined up for his landing. Gear down, he painted the plane’s wheels across the road leading from town then taxied to within fifty feet of the bridge. Almost stopped, Andy locked the port brake, cut the port engine and spun, as he’d once done outside Hollister with his Corsair, the B-25 around to where it was facing the direction it had come.
“The children are home and safe,” yelled Andy from the cockpit window over an idling starboard engine.
Charon was already wading into the Styx. I would’ve sworn there was no sign his legs went below the surface; it was as if his body ended where the water began.
“I need to find Morpheus,” Charon shouted back at Andy. “However, these brave lads will fly with you to an airport north of Gilroy. Hilts will fill you in on the details.”
Seconds later Charon submerged completely.
“It’s really not that complicated,” Hilts said, at the same time motioning for all of us to get aboard the plane. “I’ll fly to an airport outside Gilroy, drop you three off and then fly the plane on to where I’m working on the F-105.”
While Hilts was climbing into the cockpit and Larry and I were strapping ourselves into cargo chairs, Andy asked the obvious, “Why not the three of you just fly on to the city?”
Hilts had taken the pilot’s seat and was already restarting the port engine when he answered, “Two different entries will provide two distractions, each one for the other. I’ll be entering the city from the airfield; they’ll be entering from a motorcycle shop in Gilroy. A mechanic by the name of Clark told me of a way to enter the city from a backroom at the shop. He said there were instructions on how to do it left with some special bikes that’d been dropped off for service. Clark said that to pass through the portal you could only use these bikes.”
Jimmy Doolittle was the first man to fly a B-25 off an aircraft carrier, the U.S.S. Hornet. By locking his brakes and revving his engines to maximum power Hilts used the same technique to take off and had us airborne halfway to the carnival. Trimmed, with flaps and wheels retracted, Hilts circled the wooden rollercoaster by banking, standing the plane on one wing. By the time we’d straightened out and were heading for the huge cloud on the horizon that was really Ma n’ Pa we were at cruising speed. Never more than 500 feet above the ground we skimmed across the land. Cornfields interrupted with grassland made a checkerboard below.
Maybe Borderlands were painted across some giant would’ve, should’ve and could’ve canvas with only the dreamers and the dreams they dream providing the contrasting colors and shades? Or maybe there was only one dreamer and we were all just facets, like in a hologram, of that dreamer acting as a supporting character for all the other supporting characters; and our role was to discover, hopefully not before the dream ended, there really were no other actors?
Charon had said the Borderlands of children were made of innocent things and the fact that someone or something could force their way into a child’s dream underlined the vulnerability of children.
Our mission into the city would be twofold. First, we’d be giving Hilts more time to complete the work on the F-105 he’d need to fly to the top of the huge thunderhead to reboot Ma n’ Pa. Secondly, we’d be making sure the computer couldn’t send anymore nightmares into the Borderlands of Marnie or any other dreaming children.
Speaking of Ma n’ Pa, rising ahead and blocking most everything in front of us was the thunderhead. Contrary to being afraid I felt safe flying underneath; it was as if we were being protected rather than menaced by its power. Bright bolts of lightning outlined its base just a thousand feet above us. I could feel Ma n’ Pa’s presence; they were, in fact, the cloud. How long they could remain in that shape, estranged from their true forms was anyone’s guess; I knew it couldn’t be forever.
“We’re lining up to land; we’ve maybe two hours to sunrise,” Hilts shouted, awakening me. “That’s enough time to drop you guys off and then fly back to the airfield near the city.”
[page break]
I’d fallen asleep; the last thing I remembered was looking up at the bottom of the cloud and wondering if Ma n’ Pa were aware of us? We were on our final approach to a private airport north of Gilroy. Hilts’ shout and the lowering of the landing gear had awakened me. I’d slept most of the flight.
“Buckle up, once out of this turn we’re touching down. I don’t want anyone’s head denting the roof of the plane.”
Powered by storage batteries connected to nearby solar panels, runway lights directed us to a perfect landing. With no tower or permanent staff, the airport allowed only clear night landings. The night was clear and Hilts was an expert pilot. Maybe ten restored WWII fighters and bombers lined the airstrip. Hilts taxied to within fifty feet of a familiar looking F4U Corsair, locked the port brake and spun the B-25 around pointing it back the way it had come.
“Go home;” Hilts said, turning to Andy, “we couldn’t have made it this far without you. I’ll contact you as soon as I can to let you know what’s happened.”
Andy, once upon a time Raggedy Man, said not to hesitate to call him if needed then unbuckled his seat belt and dropped through the plane’s bottom hatch onto the tarmac below. The last I saw of him he was running towards a collection of parked cars at the edge of the airstrip.
“How’s he getting home?” I asked. “Is someone there waiting for him?”
“Nope, nothing that well planned, he’ll just hotwire a car and drive it to within a couple blocks of his house. If I know Andy,” laughed Larry, “he’ll obey the speed limit all the way and fill it with gas before he makes an anonymous call to the owner telling him where to find it.”
False dawn could be seen in the east; Hilts seemed anxious. He’d already explained how he and Larry could travel at night outside the Borderlands but had to return before sunrise. Larry said it was like being a cross between Dracula and Cinderella and that there was no grace period and that they’d have to be back in the Borderlands before first light.
Hilts turned to me, “Be sure to wear your ear radio. When the signal’s strong you’re headed towards a Borderland portal; when it becomes weak face where it’s strongest and head in that direction. You’re heading for the Gilroy Motorcycle Center; it has an entrance into the futuristic city.”
“If the city’s a Borderland the signal should be strong; if not there may not even be a signal. And I know I’m stating the obvious, but be careful. This city is like none I’ve ever seen or heard of. Oh, and one last thing; Clark has two of the bikes ready for you.”
“Did he say,” Larry interrupted, “what kind of bikes, choppers, sportbikes, scooters?”
“No, just that you’ll recognize them because they’ll have neon green tennis balls tied with blue bungee cords to the back of their seats”.
“He said he once attempted to enter the city without the tennis balls and couldn’t. When he put them back on the bikes the portal opened; Clark’s ridden both bikes into the city. He said he even tried putting the neon green tennis balls on other bikes but nothing happened. He figures the bikes and the tennis balls have some type of symbiotic relationship and need to be together. Clark will tell you everything; pay particular attention to what he says to do when you encounter, and it’s guaranteed you will, Wheelers.”
“Like in flying monkeys,” I asked, “like in OZ?”
“Speaking of flying, I’ve got to fly out of here if I’m going to finish my work on the F-105. As long as I stay at the airfield the city may not see me, or if it does, it doesn’t see me as a threat; it may even be the airfield and nearby hangers are in its blind spot. And no to the question, have I seen any Wheelers.”
“The City,” I added, “we might as well give it a proper name and call it the City as we’ve established it’s conscious of things. And when you say ‘encounter Wheelers’, are you talking about the same kind of Wheeler author Frank Baum described in his book RETURN TO OZ?”
Frank Baum in RETURN TO OZ, one of the many sequels to his first book WIZARD OF OZ, described a type of cyborg, a half man and half machine that had chased Dorothy through some ruined buildings. He called them Wheelers. And as frightening as they would’ve been to a young girl, they wouldn’t be much of a threat to us.
They’d especially not be a threat if we were riding motorcycles. If Baum’s description of them as humans with wheels for hands and feet was accurate, we’d outrun them, if cornered, we’d run over them, a choice I hoped we’d never have to make. My goal was simply get into the City, stop its computer from sending nightmares then leave without any trouble. No hits, no runs, no errors; in other words no one gets hurt. Our goal was not to get even, but to stop its computer from interfering with children’s dreams and in doing so provide a distraction so Hilts could hopefully remain unnoticed and finish his work.
“Did Clark,” I asked, “ever find out where these three bikes came from?”
“Clark,” answered Hilts, “was with a bit of detective work able to trace their serial numbers back to Grand Prix Motorcycles of Santa Clara. The original owner was a man named Tom; he’s the manager of Grand Prix. He is also the great grandson of Sarah Winchester the widow and heir to the Winchester rifle fortune and the designer and builder of, some say one of the most haunted houses in California, the Winchester Mystery House.”
“Clark also found out that before the Winchester Mystery House was built, Sarah Winchester lived in another house that was on the very land where Grand Prix Motorcycles now stands. Is there an entrance leading to the City under Grand Prix, and were the bikes Tom bought used to explore from there…your guess is as good as mine? What I do know is that Sarah Winchester was an acknowledged student, some even say master, of magic and the occult.”
“So what you’re saying is that there’s a possibility Grand Prix Motorcycles may also have an entrance leading to the City and that Tom may have ridden there before Clark?”
“I suspect he did,” answered Hilts. “Not only do I believe Tom’s been to the City but that he made the neon green tennis balls the integral latchkey in getting there. The tennis balls may even be required to return?”
Hilts stopped me before I could ask my next question by pointing at the coming dawn, “We’ve got to go if we’re to cross over before it gets light. You two need to get to Gilroy and I need to get off the ground.”
No sooner had Larry and I jumped to the runway than Hilts revved both engines to maximum power, released the brakes and headed back the way he had come. Airborne within a few seconds, he retracted the B-25’s wheels and climbed quickly into a beginning to pale night sky.
Running over to where the cars were parked brought no change in Larry. Whatever special magic nighttime darkness imparted to visitors from the Borderlands it was working for him. Hopefully we’d never find out what would happen if he stayed past sunrise.
Two cars were parked together, the closest, a customized ’40 Ford, would be the least challenging. I was already looking for something thin to slide into the window and jimmy the lock when Larry walked around from behind it holding the keys.
“The owner’s a surfer, check out the Freeline Design Surfboards of Santa Cruz decal and how the window in the rear is coated in wax and how it snaps out so a surfboard can slide in. Surfers have a habit of hiding their keys inside bumpers; our friend preferred the rear bumper.”
“I forgot,” I said, laughing at Larry, “Old School Chopper builders are really Old Soul surfers in disguise.”
Opening the door and starting the engine, “You’d have figured out where the keys were;” said Larry as he rolled down the window, “and from the sound I’d say the owner swapped the original flathead V-8 for a small Corvette engine. Great motor, powerful, yet light enough to let the car’s chassis do what it was designed to do around corners. Hop in, copilot me out of here; it’s been awhile since I visited Gilroy.”
Hwy 101 was easy to find and within minutes we were on the freeway and heading south. Traffic was minimal and made up of long distance truckers mixed with some early morning commuters wanting to beat the rush.
With the windows down warm air carried the smell of freshly cut garlic over us. Gilroy’s known as the garlic capital of the world and for about ten minutes we were treated to its sinus clearing aroma. A sign appeared telling us the Main Street turnoff was a mile ahead.
“Main Street,” I said, “will take us to the shop, but we’re early; let’s stop and get something at OD’s cafe.”
Gilroy Motorcycle Center would still be closed. Four blocks away was the popular OD’s Café; cars outside the cafe meant it was open. We pulled to the back of the parking lot then turned off the engine.
Larry had rolled up his window and was scooting down behind the wheel, his jacket pulled up over his head to make a pillow, when he said, “Coffee for me,” glancing up at a now lighter sky. “We’ve time.”
The garlic smells had disappeared. Replacing them was the small town stink of brick and blacktop mixed with the sharp odor of creosote from nearby railroad tracks. Walking across the parking lot erased all memory of garlic. Before I reached the café I’d forgotten what it smelled like.
Crowded with early risers, the café had one seat left at the end of the counter. Glancing back at the ’40 Ford at the same time I was handed a menu, I could see no sign of Larry.
“You’re new,” said a waitress who looked a lot like the actress that played Trinity in the movie MATRIX.
“Two coffees, one of them to go, two egg burritos, one of them to go; I answered, “I’m in sort of a hurry.”
The waitress was looking past me like she had x-ray vision and could somehow see Larry through the Ford’s door panels, “How does your friend want his coffee?”
“Black,” said Larry from behind me as he opened the café’s door, “and make all orders to go, and has anyone ever told you that you look like the lady that played Trinity in the movie…?”
“And has anyone ever told you,” interrupted the waitress, “you look a lot like that guy from Brooklyn that built choppers for the Discovery Channel Biker Build-Off series?”
Larry must’ve followed me to the café and from his look it wasn’t by choice. Flashlights were being played across the Ford by two policemen. Words ending loudly with…er and …ish were being repeated back to them from the speakers on their shoulder mikes.
“All ready,” said a familiar voice from behind us.
Our waitress looked different, like maybe waiting tables was her earthly job and that like Persephone she’d been allowed at certain times to walk among us and, and…
“I figured you two were in a hurry,” said Persephone and the smell of tropical suntan lotion flowed from her, and I’d fallen in love, “so I rushed your orders. I even added a thermos of coffee for the refills and put everything in this backpack. You can wash up in the restroom in the back.”
“We’re good to go;” I replied, handing her two twenty dollar bills, “keep the change.”
Thirty feet away the two policemen were walking towards the café; both had their hands on their service pistols.
The waitress grabbed my hand instead of the money making me turn around and eyes the same color of Ma’s stared into mine, “Wash your hands, I insist; you can never tell where you’ll pick up germs or worse a virus…NOW!”
Larry had already grabbed the backpack holding our breakfasts and the large thermos of coffee and was heading for the restroom door. With his other hand he grabbed my shoulder and dragged me off the counter stool, “Unless you want to eat jail food, I suggest we do what this nice lady says.”
Had we been regular patrons of OD’s the restroom would’ve been a trap. Directly behind some boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling was a small window just large enough to crawl through; it was our escape route.
“Help me clear all these cartons and boxes away then give me a boost.”
As Larry and I cleared boxes I could hear Persephone, I mean our waitress, shouting, “Go ahead officers check the restroom, but watch out for the mess.
“We had a big grease spill in there. It’s on the walls and floors; it’s everywhere and I haven’t had time to clean it up. Don’t get it on your clothes; that stuff’s impossible to get out.”
“I’m afraid we’ve still gotta check;” the male voice sounded uncertain, “we’ve got orders.”
The fact that police won’t hesitate to face danger but are reluctant to get their uniforms dirty bought us the time to climb out the restroom window. Once outside we circled around to the front of the café.
Larry handed me the backpack with our breakfast burritos and coffee then pointed us in the direction of the parking lot, “Don’t stop for nothing.”
‘Don’t stop for nothing’ meant running past the customized ’40 Ford we’d recently stolen, I mean borrowed from the airport’s parking lot and around a second police car that had just arrived. Shouts to halt made us run faster. Looking over my right shoulder I could see that while the police cars couldn’t follow us up the railroad embankment, the second car had two young rookies who looked like they’d majored in track. Our head start and the fact they’d slowed to radio where Larry and I were headed had given us about a seventy five yard lead; we’d be captured in less than a minute. Gilroy Motorcycle Center was four blocks away.
Larry, once over the embankment, ran across the first street and into a narrow alley. We’d be trapped if there wasn’t an opening to the other side; but there was an opening and we were soon through, across a second street and into another, thankfully, open ended alley. Looking back I almost ran into the dumpster Larry had pulled out to slow down the rapidly gaining track stars. It gave us another ten yards lead and the time to cross the third street and head down yet another narrow alley. Our destination was on the next and fourth street, but it might as well have been a million miles away; a rusty metal door set in an adobe wall blocked our way.
“It’s a dead end; what now?”
[page break]
“It’s only a dead end if we can’t get,” said Larry, pointing at the bottom of the door, “this door open.”
Though partially open it was barred from inside. Formidably thick and reinforced with hand forged steel straps, it seemed an impassable barrier. The two rookie policemen who’d most certainly lettered in track were seconds away and having seen our only escape route was blocked with a metal door had slowed to a confident walk.
“Help me lift;” Larry shouted, thrusting his fingers under the door, “it’s our only chance. If it’s as old as I think it is these hinges will be open at the top.”
“Open hinges?”
“Rings set over rods bent at right angles, popular back in the 1800s when blacksmiths made doors like this.”
My fingers were down beside his before he’d finished speaking, prompting an order from the now not so confident track stars for us to stop what we were doing and put our hands in the air. I didn’t look to see if they’d drawn their guns. Our immediate response to their order was to yank upwards and make the iron hinges screech.
“What I meant to say,” Larry said looking at me apologetically, “was that most of these doors were made with open hinges.”
Suddenly and without warning the door swung open and Larry and I were being helped into the building. Seconds later the two pursuing officers slammed into its outside but not before it had been quickly shouldered shut, cross barred and locked with a huge paddlelock.
Who had come to our rescue?
“Clark?” said Larry, looking up from a sitting position.
Standing in front of us was a man of average height, built as solidly as a fireplug and with forearms that would’ve made Popeye proud. As our rescuer looked us over predawn light coming through an amber colored skylight couldn’t hide his smile or the fact that the name Clark was stenciled in bold capital letters above his coverall’s pocket.
“I followed most of what was happening on the scanner,” said Clark at the same time pointing at an old scanner cannibalized together from a couple of even older scanners.
“When they blocked off the street in front of the shop I knew it was just a matter of time before they got the owner down here so they could search. I don’t think they’ll break in as I’m pretty sure they don’t know I’m here. Sunrise is about ten minutes away and the owner about a fifteen minute drive; that should give me time to update what Hilts may have told you. There are some things about the City you’ll need to know. I had to find out what they were the hard way and came very close to not being allowed to return. Rule number one is you can’t leave the tunnel from here before sunrise or enter from there after sunset; at night the tunnel shuts down.”
“Are there any other things? Hilts briefed us on a lot of what to expect, but he didn’t have time to explain everything.” Larry asked, shaking Clark’s hand and then walking over to look at two Yamaha Raiders with neon green tennis balls bungee corded to the backs of their seats.
“Luckily I was back here when I heard the police order you two to halt;” Clark answered, pointing at the metal door. “With the scanner reports telling me where you were headed it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know they’d trapped you in the alley. When I saw your fingers under the door trying to lift it off its hinges I knew I had seconds to get it open. Luck was with you again, I have my own key. The owner’s kept it locked; the fact is he keeps this room locked from the shop entrance too.”
“How’d you get in here if the shop entrance is locked?” I asked, asking the obvious question.
“I had a duplicate key made after he ordered these bikes stored in here; I was curious so I made a clay impression before returning it to him. I’ve been using this room to enter the City; I’ve been there four times so far.”
A dirty hundred watt bulb covered by a once green but now rusty cone shaped shade hung from the rafters illuminating the roughly forty square foot room.
Behind the two bikes there was what at first glance appeared to be a roughly hewn wooden double door lying on the floor. On second glance it revealed itself to be a storm cellar door similar to the ones you’d find in the basement of an Oklahoma farmhouse leading down into a bunker for protection from tornados.
Pointing at numerous sets of tire tracks leading from where the two bikes were parked to a small incline attached to the cellar door’s edge, Larry asked, “Are those your tire tracks from when you entered and exited the City?”
“You guessed it,” answered Clark. “I used one of the Raiders on the first three trips, the other one on my last visit. Originally there was a third bike, another Yamaha, a Road Warrior, not a Raider; it also had green tennis balls. The owner must’ve moved it as it was gone after just two days of storage. I once even tried putting the tennis balls on a Hayabusa and entering; I thought I could outrun the Wheelers.”
“What happened?” I asked. “And just who are the Wheelers; Hilts warned us about them?”
“I couldn’t get more than ten feet down the tunnel before I ran into a rock wall. Something, maybe some type of sensor, must know when the tennis balls are on the wrong bike and closes off the entrance into the City. In answer to your second question, the Wheelers are a type of cyborg, half man half machine; they patrol the outlying areas around the City. They’re dangerous only if you provoke them; I did and was escorted back to this entrance with the warning I’d be turned into a Wheeler if I was ever caught again.”
“Hilts,” I added, “said sudden changes in speed attract them and that any acceleration or deceleration should be gradual.”
“Hilts was right, and even if you could get a superbike like a Hayabusa into the City they’d eventually vector in ahead of you; there’re hundreds of them and they think collectively.”
“What do you mean?” asked Larry.
“They act, rather move together as a unit, like a school of fish or flock of birds. You might outrun the ones nearest you but the ones ahead already know where you’re going and will vector in to block. Soon you’re surrounded. I know; I tried outrunning them on the very bike you’re sitting on.”
Larry was sitting on the Yamaha Raider nearest the cellar door. The Raider was, with the exception of the Road Warrior, one of the fastest air-cooled V-twins I’d ever ridden; it would, particularly in the mid-range, put a smile on your face.
“Hilts was right,” continued Clark, “in telling you to ride at a steady pace. High speeds won’t attract the Wheelers if you reach those speeds little by little. On my last visit I was able to get up to nearly eighty on the straight stretch leading into the City, but only after I’d taken my time getting up to that speed. The same thing applies when you slowdown; do it in small increments, small steps. Plan on taking the same time it took you to get up to speed to get back down.”
A rattling of the shop’s front door interrupted us and made Clark take a sneak peek outside the room.
“The police are getting impatient; they may not wait for the owner. You two need to get going, leastways before he gets here, and definitely,” Clark said, looking directly at Larry, “before sunrise. You’re good to go; the bikes have been ready since Hilts told me you guys were coming. He found a way to contact me. Don’t forget you can only leave the other end of the tunnel after sunrise and enter the other end before sunset.”
“When,” I asked, “should we expect the Wheelers?”
Clark had effortlessly lifted both halves of the storm cellar door, revealing a sidewalk width tunnel sloping downward. Different color Christmas tree bulbs strung from the top of the tunnel and in ten foot intervals lighted the passageway. Larry had chosen the Raider closest to the cellar door, started it, and then moved it to where his front tire was touching the lip of the cellar. That left me with the other Raider, which I started then pulled to where I was inches behind Larry’s rear tire.
“Don’t worry; the Wheelers will find you as soon as you are through this narrow tunnel and have ridden down an even narrower ramp to the top of the dome.
“Once on the dome they’ll come up beside you and harass you wherever you go. They’ve been sent like Harpies to provoke you into panicking so stay cool and remember to keep a steady pace. I never rode beyond the elevated highway that leads from the dome to the City; I never took any of the side roads coming up from what I can best describe as a wasteland. The side roads come up and intersect the highway. Nor have I actually entered the City; so I’ve no idea how far the Wheelers will follow you.”
With a thumbs-up to Clark, Larry rode his bike up the small incline then down into the cellar; I followed remembering the floor of the tunnel was only sidewalk width.
Assorted Christmas tree bulbs strung from above gave only the feeblest glow and added little if nothing in the way increased visibility. Accept for their dull pinpoints, more reflection than shine, our headlights provided all of the light. Seamless, without bumps and with no room to turn around, the tunnel’s floor became a one-way slope downwards. We’d ridden only about two hundred yards when Larry signaled for us to stop. Clark had closed the cellar door behind us as soon as we’d entered the tunnel. Seconds after we turned off our engines the Christmas tree bulbs flickered then went out.
“Hey, we needed those…”
‘Listen,” interrupted Larry, “just listen.”
A hundred feet ahead a faint light radiated up from the tunnel’s floor. Wind sounds could be heard coming from it. My eyes now more accustomed to the darkness saw the tunnel’s floor was as perfectly smooth as the roads Larry and I had ridden on in other Borderlands.
Pointing at the light coming from the tunnel’s floor and the source of the wind sounds, Larry said, “Ride towards it; it’s got to be the entrance down to the dome Clark described. But don’t ride so close as to fall over the edge. Go slow until we can see where we’re going.”
For reasons I can’t explain I knew we weren’t under the city of Gilroy, not since entering the tunnel.
Starting our bikes turned on our headlights showing the Christmas tree bulbs ended above our heads. With Larry in the lead we rode slowly on until finally stopping a few feet from a set of storm cellar doors the size and shape of the ones we’d just entered. These doors were open.
Peeking over the edge we were able to see a ramp leading all the way down to the largest dome I’d ever seen. Our narrow tunnel floor had, like Clark said it would, changed into an even narrower three foot wide ramp that was swinging in the wind like a ribbon. It reminded me of a large version of a plastic Hot Wheels track I’d played with as a kid; the wind blowing through the hole in the floor was the source of the sound.
“I played a lot with Hot Wheels toys when I was a kid,” I laughed, “but I never thought I would be riding on one of its ramps. It must be three hundred feet from here down to the dome and it’s swaying side to side in ten foot sweeps.”
“There should be a period of calm,” said Larry, “after these morning winds die down, a window period of maybe fifteen minutes before they start up again; that’s enough time for us to ride down to the roof.”
Clark was right, the ramp was narrow. Once we were down it and on the top of the dome and started riding towards the dome’s outside edge the slope would soon become so steep we’d pass a point of no return where if we tried to turn around we’d fall. We needed to find a way to get off the top. Clark said the best way was to follow the Wheelers.
“Are you sure we’re to follow the Wheelers?”
“Our only choice,” answered Larry, “is to follow the Wheelers. When they come up onto the dome to meet us we’ll watch the route they take then retrace it.”
Larry’s acute vision made him the logical choice for being the lookout. Speaking of looking, I wondered what we looked like when seen from below. Seen from below did we appear as two heads staring down from a hole in the sky? Alteration of space and time were beyond my comprehension. Maybe someday someone would simplify the concept for me.
In the meantime I was able to get my first real look at our bikes. Morning light radiating up from the hole allowed me to see them more clearly.
When you looked beyond the fact both Raiders were identical in color and that both had high exit 2 into 1 exhaust systems; each one appeared in excellent shape. With the exception of the 2 into 1 systems I hadn’t seen any evidence either had been altered from stock. Speaking of stock, Clark had been adamant about not trying to outrun the Wheelers saying that ‘stock’ rhymed with ‘reliability’ and that a cool head and a reliable bike would serve us better when traveling around the City.
Both Yoshimura and Vance & Hines exhausts are known for their deep, not obnoxious, sound and most importantly for allowing you to increase the back pressure by adding a baffle, thus getting the highest torque over the broadest rpm range. Our Raiders with their 2 into 1 exhaust had been set up using the baffle. Larry said he’d often recommend a 2 into 1 exhaust for his customers when customizing their metric cruisers, particularly for the ones that chose not to Harley-ize their bikes. He called them his ‘Go not Show’ customers and wished he had more of them. He also said he regularly advised Harley owners to use a lighter 2 into 1 high exit system, especially the ones that loved riding the backroads and needed the extra lean angle and power out of the turns.
Whoever designed the Raider must have had Yamaha’s Road Warrior chief engineer and designer Tatsuya Watanabe whispering in their ear. As a result the Raider also had an aluminum frame and a V-twin motor that was extremely powerful through the mid-range. Its Achilles Heel would be its extended rake and its six foot long wheelbase. The laws of geometry would demand that a longer wheelbase take a wider arc; a wider arc would be a liability through really tight corners, especially ones with a decreasing radius. Both bikes had two neon green tennis balls bungee corded to the straps that ran across their backseats.
Looking at how a 40 degree rake and been engineered to be 33 degrees at the yoke only confirmed the fact that a lot of the creativity that went into the design of the Road Warrior had been woven into the Raider. My experience with the Road Warrior in Ma n’ Pa’s Borderlands had been good; I had no doubt my experience with the Raider would be too.
Larry would always see radical wire wheel choppers as works of art; he’d come to my rescue on one powered by a radial aircraft engine. But neither was Larry a fool and he often acknowledged the superiority of Japanese engineering by wanting to build a chopper around Suzuki’s light ninety degree liter V-twin and Yamaha’s big air cooled V-twin engine.
Choppers, he said, were works of art, and like all true artists he refused to be limited to one medium. To limit himself to using only Harley parts would be, no pun intended, painting himself into a corner with one color. Art, he said, demands growth and cannot be held hostage to the past. Art transcends mediums.
“Do you still have,” asked Larry, “our breakfast?”
“Hopefully,” I laughed, opening the backpack I had been carrying since Larry and I had left the restaurant, “it won’t be our last meal.”
Inside was a large thermos of OD’s specially blended coffee, two foam cups and two egg burritos wrapped in foil. At the bottom of the pack was a hearing aid size radio that looked exactly like mine.
“Can you hear me?” whispered Larry after placing the tiny radio in his ear and turning away.
“Barely,” I replied.
“It might be,” said Larry, “because of where we’re at. I noticed the tunnel’s lights gave off no light in fact they seem to absorb light from our headlights. We won’t know for sure how well these things communicate until we’re out of the tunnel.”
“I’ve been looking at our bikes,” I said, putting my hand on my gas tank, “and I’m pretty sure they were designed, especially the engines and frames, by the same people that designed Yamaha’s Road Warrior.”
“I can see where they could be the Warrior’s kissing cousin,” responded Larry. “Of more interest to me is the mystery behind the green tennis balls. Clark said they had to be on the back of each bike to go through this passage leading to the City.
“Speaking of each bike, I wonder what happened to the third bike; did someone ride it down here to explore then get lost or worse? And while we’re on the subject of bikes, what do you know about the Yamaha Raider? I’ve some experience with the Warrior but not the Raider.”
“Try not to look at the Raider through chopper colored glasses,” I said. “Introduced in ’08 it, like the Warrior, was by design never really meant to be a Harley clone; and probably because it wasn’t a wannabe Harley, its sales began to drop.”
“Why;” asked Larry, “you’d think there’d be a market for a bike that wasn’t a wannabe of another bike? More to the point, why do most metric cruisers, with the obvious exception of Yamaha’s Road Warrior and the not so obvious exception of Suzuki’s 1400 Intruder, feel they have to be a Harley? I tell people if they want a Harley buy a Harley. A bike designed to march to the beat of its own drummer sounds like the kind of bike we may need.”
Knowing Larry’s favorite bikes were ones he considered works of art as well as ones that could navigate the backroads, I answered, “You’d probably like the Raider except for…”
“Except for what…?”
“Except for the fact,” I continued, “that while in many ways it’s a lot like the Road Warrior; it was judged by more than a few magazine editors as unsightly. In fact, if you’re judging the Raider by reviews alone more than a few reviewers considered them unattractive. A couple of magazines even referred to them as out-and-out ugly.”
“Art is relative.”
“What do you mean,” I asked, “relative?”
“No frills, built to be ridden aggressively through corners,” answered Larry, “sounds like a work of art to me.
“As powerful as a Road Warrior but an ugly duckling,” continued Larry, “it’s sounding more like the perfect bike for what we’ll need. Hey, the other reindeer snubbed Rudolph until they needed his red nose to guide their sleigh through a foggy night. Maybe the Raider just needs a foggy night for people to see that even though it’s not a beauty queen it has a good spirit.
Maybe getting us to a futuristic city, dealing with a rogue computer then getting us back safely will be the Raider’s foggy night? Speaking of needs, we need to leave now.”
“I thought we had to wait for the winds to calm down?”
“They did decrease a bit,” Larry answered, “but they’re starting back up sooner than I thought; they’re beginning to get stronger. We need to leave for the dome right away.”
Looking down through the hole gave a view of the dome’s roof. It was about three hundred feet below us, crowned with light from a rising sun and about three miles from the City. An elevated highway entered the dome about halfway down its side and ran straight to the City’s wall; on either side of the elevated highway intersecting roads rose up from the ground joining it like ribs to the spine of some giant skeleton. At ground level what appeared to be abandoned buildings spread outwards to the horizon. The ramp was swinging less than when I first saw it but the winds were increasing.
“If we’re going it’s got to be now; the winds have increased faster than I thought. Follow me; staying close together will keep our weight more centered and the ramp from not swinging as much.”
Larry had started his bike and was already heading down the ramp before he’d finished talking; I gave him about a ten foot lead then followed. As I descended below the hole a cold wind hit me from the side; at the same time morning sunlight painted the chrome on my Raider’s tank bright yellow. All the way down my mantra became stay close to Larry, stay in the center of the ramp and don’t look over its edge.
“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, Frodo, 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 of THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING by J.R.R. Tolkien