The Scurvy Dog’s Logs Part VI Antwerp, Belgium Story, and Photos By Bandit

I’m still sitting on the rusting bucket of moneymaking (I think, not sure) bolts in 4 degrees celsius in Antwerp, Belgium. Did I have any notion that I would ever be on a world run in Belgium? Fuck no, but I’m here and enjoying it. Sorta. As usual there are crimes and mayhem involved in every sordid tale I weave. This one started calm enough like Christmas, then all hell broke loose. First, some background. Belgium kicked off its history in the 13th century with cargo ships rolling across the English Channel to England. It rapidly became the heart of cargo shipping between Europe and England and vice versa. Between Brugge, Gent and Antwerp, all cities on the coast of Belgium, they had it made. But, between religious wars, the French Revolution and any other numerous catastrophes, they survived to have one helluva friendly country. If you open a map on any cobblestone street corner, a resident will step up and offer guidance. The basis of the name of this city is wrapped around a biker of sorts. Seems there was a giant who stopped every ship that entered Antwerp along the Schelde River and demanded a toll before they could enter the port. If he wasn’t paid post haste, he hacked off one of the captain’s hands and threw it out to sea. OK, so one day this little Belgian tyke named Barbo comes along, lops off the giant’s hand and throws it to sea, putting an end to his carnage. Hence, Antwerp was named after hand throwing, which is called handwerpen. So we arrived through another river leading in from the North Sea in blistering cold weather. Every day we have a cab take us to the train station where the Russian mafia runs diamond and jewelry shops behind a roll-up tin front. Antwerp is known for its diamond trade, with stones shipped in from South Africa. The section of town dedicated to the diamond trade is in no way connected with the mob’s hangout next to the train depot. There are also a couple of other distinctions that need mentioning. One is the cathedrals, which are unbelievable. The ornate workmanship in churches dating back to the 1300s is beyond belief. I spent some time in a humble church as a kid before I joined the union of outlaws and never returned. But you can see why people escaped England and Europe to find religious freedom and deeper understanding. Religions controlled all that went on, all the jewels and wealth, and wielded tremendous power over the population. You can see it in every gold ornament in these churches. It’s almost frightening. The other aspect of Antwerp that’s wild is the shopping. This is a town full of narrow, winding streets with buildings that were built yesterday or nearly 1,000 years ago, side by side. This is a woman’s paradise. There are shops everywhere, high-class joints, flea markets in parks, fish markets alongside the river, department stores, franchise Levi’s joints, and fashion, fashion and more fashion. There’s even a bird market on Theater Square on the weekends. So you would have thought that there would be thousands of knockout broads walking the streets in the latest slinky item. Hell, you couldn’t tell, they were all covered from their slinky ankles to their kissable chins with furry shit to keep them warm. Back at the ship we neared another holiday. I tell ya something had got to change about these godforsaken harbors. Every harbor is an industrial wasteland full of sharp-edged iron chunks rusting while waiting for a ship to be loaded on for a voyage to China. We live in a joyful society while our world of goods gets from place to place by being packed on rusting hulks that pull into one dour desert of junkyard steel after another. All we can see from each port we sail into are burning release valves and smoking, rotten warehouses and refineries for as far as the eye can see. In each case we need to beg someone to come to this area of the destitute to rescue us from a ghetto of cranes and fork lifts and stevedores surrounding 50-gallon drums full of cardboard and burning pallet wood to keep warm. Most of the crew, including the captain, never leaves the ship. They never see the frozen lakes of people ice skating, or the theaters or grand museums packed with the artifacts and the legends that brought these burgs to the prominence they now enjoy. They never see the colorful night life. They never see the brightly printed magazines after they have carried the paper to port. They don’t go to shore to see the beautiful women after they hauled the machinery that made the dresses. It’s a shame. On top of their steel cells and industrial surroundings, crime strikes and violence reigns. A couple of days before New Year’s Eve, a religious group from the seaman’s mission came on board to entertain the Filipino crew. Either during or after their couple of hours on the board, two cabins were broken into or a woman’s purse was stolen. Another babe lost her watch and assorted items off her desk while she slept. The next morning the thievery came to light and the captain was alerted. Some assumed that a member of the crew was at fault, another thought it was someone from the religious groups. At first the captain simply shrugged as the loss wasn’t great, but I didn’t like the idea that someone had entered a woman’s cabin without the correct prompting. I pushed for action that would indicate to the wrong doer that we were going to kick some ass if it happened again. I began my own sideline Chinatown investigation, although I wished I had Jean Harlow at my side during the cavernous hunt into the seaport underworld. I discovered that this harbor, as most harbors aside from Hamburg, had very poor security and people wander on and off ships without so much as a sign-in list. There is no security at the gang planks and kids sneak onto ships and usually hit whatever is close to an exit. The Antwerp police admitted that there are gangs that roam the dark port streets busting into anything they can carry away and attack ships and predominately captains’ cabins. That’s where the electronic equipment and cash is. The investigation continues with constant and unrelenting questioning of any young woman I can find. Two nights later I slipped off the rotting hulk of a tuna can that carries cargo around the world and slid into the ornate world of the Hilton in downtown Antwerp. With the blond of blonds on my arm, I entered the ornate ballroom overlooking the historic plaza next to the mammoth cathedral packed full of original Ruben paintings, the man responsible for paintings of men built like steroid-packed oxen and women as voluptuous as your imagination can go. Each painting was based on a religious theme. During one day’s excursion we wandered through the home of Mr. Ruben and I wished I could have beamed in David Mann and shared this experience with him. Into the ballroom we strolled enjoying the high fashion of women in slinky dresses that slid on their silky skin and old farts in tuxedos. As we sat through one course after another in the lavish presence of the town’s high society, two things struck me: One was the ship and its imprisoned crew cooking another whole pig and drinking whiskey surrounded by cold steel walls and snow capped darkness. I was suddenly enveloped in lurid visions of my fugitive past. I don’t know what befell me, if it was the tall beautiful blonde two tables away who sought my attention with each sip of wine as her husband spoke to her intently. She wore a loose fitting gown that was held on by two miniscule straps that danced on her otherwise naked shoulders. The silver gown flowed over her unencumbered Rubenisque breasts. Her golden hair was pulled to the back of her head and held with a silver tie that revealed the soft curve of her neck, like Layla wears her hair at home. Something came over me like a silver bullet from my past, a revelation of my sins with women. I thought of the pain I inflicted on my last wife. It wasn’t a mere consideration, but a flashback of painful moments, relationship torpedoes launched in a sea of tears. I reached for my glass of wine, but knew full well that it wouldn’t hide the missile that was all too clear and irreversible. Another bomb came as the image of my first wife crying appeared in my heart. I couldn’t shake them, as if I was forced to relive my tainted past as the New Year approached. In the Sunday post I mentioned that as a New Year’s resolution we should make a woman smile, something I love to do. In my mind I fight the rules and my spirit fights for freedom while my heart cries for the pain I’ve inflicted. I’m not sure there is an answer, but there is loyalty and truthfulness. I wish all relationships would be filled with joyous days and never end. I wish pirates had a source of maidens who understood their spirit and let them wander unhampered. I suppose if you’re a pirate, you must admit it and ride or sail away to another port as we will in two days. Ah, me laddy, it’s to Genoa, Italy, and another adventure. We left the bright lights and slinky skirts and returned to the tarnished ship before midnight to spend the last moments of 2001 with the crew. But due to my efforts to enhance security, the gangplank had been raised while the officers and crew partied on the bridge and tried to look past the dark and dour conditions of the harbor to see the fireworks in the distance through the fog. We stood on the snow-covered concrete dock in the dark as the ship’s horn announced the beginning of a new year and a crew member hustled to our assistance. Have a wonderful 2002, and make every day count for something.-Bandit

The Scurvy Dog’s Logs Part VII Genoa, Italy Story, and Photos By Bandit

Hey, rumor has it that one of my infamous Posts was tossed in the shitter because the party got out of hand. I may not be much of a writer, and I know that a large sum of what I babble about should be shitcanned, but what the hell? I feel like Steve McQueen in “Papillion,” out in the middle of the Mediterranean on a tin island with nowhere to go and only Polish officers and good-hearted but barely English speaking Filipinos to make faces at. Gimme a break. I hammered out the sullen Post knee deep in oily bildge salt water under the constant risk of electrocution only to have it tossed by a big-titted girl who had too much sex the night before. What’s wrong with that picture? That’s all the sniveling you’ll get out of me. On the other hand, the weather improved immeasurably as we putted through the Med. It was like motoring on a calm lake, although the attentive captain pointed out to me, “While we will be in Genoa, Greece is being hit with major storm.” Being on a ship is like being the mercury in a thermometer in the cockpit of a jet. We muscle our way from one climate to another. Hamburg and Antwerp were freezing, so we headed west out of the Black Sea. As soon as we did, we headed into the Gulf Stream then turned south and rolled into the summer zone and milder weather. As we turned into the Med the weather calmed even more and the seas flattened, then it cooled slightly, but stayed calm as we headed northeast to Genoa in the Ligurian Sea.   Genoa is not like the previous ports. We didn’t have to take on three fastidious port pilots to dodge bridges and piers up a 40- to 80-mile river. This harbor was built right on the coast in the 11th century and there are few flatlands. Hills opened to winding streets and tall baroque buildings that now house a city of 650,000. It’s predominately a medieval city of weaving narrow streets, vast cathedrals, ornate museums and spectacular galleries. Again, the cabbies know where to find the ships and arrived on the dot. The people don’t speak as much English as the folks of Belgium or Germany.   I found that even the dark-haired beauty who spent time with me spoke very good English, but struggled with the words, always attempting to put an A on the end. She spent a year in Baltimore training to speak the language. That must be the problem. It was a little cool the first day, but we didn’t need scarves or gloves and the sun shone constantly. Oh shit, I forgot to finish my description of the harbor. The port in Genoa is much more picturesque. It has a breakwater that runs across the front of the harbor and inlets to afford the ships entry. Cruise ships are moored very close to the brightly lit town. Since we’re a scurvy lot, they put us on a decrepit dock as far west of town as they could stuff us. The port and related businesses are the underpinnings of Genoa. Since the 1100s shipping has been the mainstay of the region. Just like all the other ports we’ve visited, the industrial portion of the harbor, especially where we sat and rocked back and forth as cranes shifted cargo to get the Genoa stash aboard, was a dump. The roads were a mess, with potholes the size of manhole covers. Containers were stacked everywhere. Old cement buildings sat abandoned between docks with the windows busted out and the exterior metal cranes and hardware bent and rusting. Columbus was born in Genoa and we went past a house he lived in, but he wasn’t home. I only had two days to chase women and on the second, my time was running out as the sun set on the starboard side of the ship. Dierk, the cargo supervisor, searched the area for the remaining items to load. It’s a riot watching these guys in action. The departure times change as fast your girl’s sex drive. She’s hot to trot one minute and slowed to a stop the next. I had to check with him every four hours for an update.   Finally, at about 7 last night, we pulled away from the dock and headed out to sea. The chief officer still didn’t know what was on board. He had a stack of invoices and manifests that he couldn’t make sense out of if he had an accounting license. He’s still waiting for a report from the abrupt port agent. We’re heading to a narrow strait between Sicily and the Italian Peninsula after passing an erupting volcano called Stromboli. Right now we’re passing the islands of Corsica (French controlled) and Sardinia (Italian island) on the starboard and the peninsula on the port. In a couple of days we’ll be entering the Suez Canal. I sure hope the captain picked up a case of Marlboroughs or we’ll be in deep shit again. That’s it for the news. I’m kicking off chapter 20 of Chance’s second dice-rolling book based on this world-wide run. Each port gives me new ideas and a fresh set for the next chapter. I’m up to 17 of the original Chance series, which is being published in HORSE- the chopper rag, and I’ll get caught up with No. 2 before we throw lines over the side in Singapore. Ride Forever, Bandit.

The Scurvy Dog’s Logs Part VIII Via The Suez Canal Story, and Photos By Bandit

If you’ve been staying on top of this mess, fine. If you just stumbled in here, you’re in for a surprise. I’m supposed to write a stunning motorcycle related news column weekly, but I can’t. No, I wasn’t run over by four old golfers in Palm Springs. I’m on a tramp freighter traveling around the world–from Los Angeles to, hopefully, Los Angeles, and from Houston to Houston by ship. I’m nearing the halfway point as I sit dead in the water in Port Said on the coast of Egypt. This is the MV (motorized vessel) Leon owned by the Rickmers Shipping Company (since 1834). I found out yesterday that MS stands for Majesty’s Ship. It use to be HMS for Her (or his if the king was on top of the heap) Majesty’s Ship.   I want to mention how fortunate I am to be able to send these reports and stay in communication with the site. Thanks goes to my old pal Bob Bitchin, who owned Biker Magazine and Tattoo, and who now owns the sailing magazine “Latitudes and Attitudes,” of which I own a small portion. Since Bob deals with sea-going communication systems, he turned me onto an iridium satellite phone. The phone works, although I will write a report on the foibles of its use for the sailing magazine. It’s a costly device and for the Bikernet girls to call me and whisper in my ear ranges from $2.47 a minute to seven bucks. That’s fuckin’ outrageous and if anyone knows anything cheaper for satellite phone calls, holler quick. We’re going broke trying to bring you these reports. On a more positive note, and I may have mentioned this before, when I packed my sea bag and hit the trail, I put the site in the hands of my trusty crew: Layla, Sinwu, Nuttboy, Digital Gangster and Jon Towle. I confess that I had no notion of what I was doing and was sure that they could spring a vast, more glorious site on the Internet world. They proved me right. Hits surpassed the 1.7 million hit mark last month, more new customers than ever before. They must be doing something right.   A dense fog sat off the coast of Egypt as we steamed close yesterday morning and delayed our entrance into the Suez Canal by a couple of hours. As we entered we experienced something we have never endured in any port in the United States or Europe. Keep in mind that this is a rat bike of a ship, and not something that should draw attention. The hull is painted a dull, spotty gray. The lettering “Leon” was hand painted by someone who had no business with a black brush. The rest of the ship is rust and 14 coats of various paints from Hamster yellow to lawn green and rust red (the Rickmers colors). Yet even with the appearance of a marijuana smuggling ship and a crew to match, we were surrounded by a flotilla of ratty skiffs to highly varnished teak wood run-abouts carrying numerous Egyptians who sold tourist packages, leather jackets, metal plates of polished bras and enamel pharaohs. They surrounded the ship as a series of broad, 50-car and 200-passenger ferries attempted to cross the canal with packs of people from one Port Said on the Egyptian side to Sinai on the other. This portion of Sinai is controlled by Egypt, while the southern portion is part of Saudi Arabia and on the east it’s part of Israel. Lots of fighting has taken place on this small chunk of land that borders the Suez Canal and is no more than a desert of rock, gravel and boulders with rugged granite peaks, ridges arid valleys and tablelands. The greater part of the peninsula is very mountainous.   The canal was opened for navigation in 1869 and engineered by the same Frenchman who began the work on the Panama Canal, which was finished by Americans and opened in 1913. By the Convention of Constantinople on Oct. 29, 1888, the Suez Canal was open to vessels of all nations and is free from blockades except during time of war. From 1956 to ’57, it was closed due to the Suez Canal Crisis because of numerous sunken wrecks. In June of ’67 it was closed again as a result of the Israeli/Arab war and not re-opened to international shipping until June 1975. Without its shipping channel from Europe to the Pacific ports, ships are forced into a long difficult and notorious trip around the southern tip of Africa. That closure was responsible for increased fuel prices due to the added transportation costs. So I headed down the stairwell yesterday evening for dinner and discovered Egyptians selling leather jackets, trinkets, toys and tools on each level of the stairway. Each one approached me as I descended to have quiet chow in the mess hall. It was bizarre and immediately I suspected that it was some agreement with the harbor that let them storm the ship. Later I met with the captain who told me that if he didn’t allow them on board we would have serious problems getting through the canal. He told me of a story where the wives of stevedores came to the docks in Thailand everyday, cooked and sold their food to the ship crews. One particular captain told his men that they were not allowed to spend money with these people. The next day no stevedores showed up and cargo off-loading ceased until business with the ladies resumed. That cost that ship a small fortune. It took us three and a half days to find the Suez. If we had arrived between three and five in the morning we would have sailed through. Some 25 commercial vessels are allowed through going east and 25 west daily. It’s a traffic jam of ships. Ah, but since we steamed into port in the afternoon, we were stuck for the night. We were scheduled to depart at 1 a.m., which turned into 5 a.m. and took us 10 hours to make it to the city of Suez at the end of the canal and the beginning of the Gulf of Suez, which leads into the dense Red Sea. From there to the Gulf of Aden that rounds the corner of Saudi Arabia into the Indian Ocean heading to Singapore, which will take an additional 13 days. Day before yesterday we passed the Island of Crete off the coast of Greece. The people of the city of Iraklion, Crete, once ruled the Mediterranean. They were rich with metals and ships, but one day a massive earthquake took the city out. It is believed by a large percentage of scholars that this is the city of Atlantis 4-5000 years ago. The captain had another story about a nearby Kasos island named after the Greek Odyssey of the Cyclops. Our captain knew another captain who ran for major on that island and won. He did it by recruiting people to come to the island and vote for him. His competition was working the same angle and hired a number of excited voters to arrive on the island via a plane from Athens. The captain got word of the ploy and called a connection at the airport. They held up the plane due to “mechanical problems” until the election was over. Alright, that’s all the bullshit stories I have to report at this moment. I will attempt to stay on duty. In the meantime I roughed out chapter 20 of my second Chance book and chapter 17 of the first one. I’ve got to come up with some titles for these fuckin’ novels. In the meantime, get your rides ready for the summer. It’s coming on strong—Bandit.

The Scurvy Dog’s Logs Part IX From The Middle Of The Indian Ocean Story, and Photos By Bandit

Ship report 1/25 It’s been two months since I came aboard this stinking, grease-soaked rat bike of a freighter. According to my buddy Mark Lonsdale, a fellow world traveler, I will have passed the halfway point in this world run. Mark recently returned from Afghanistan, where he was assisting a Russian military group. He has also been called to Hong Kong on another scandalous mission and I may hook up with him there. Speaking of being ejected, my reports have been expelled from the news. I realize that this is not exactly Harley-oriented, but what the fuck can I do? The depression has driven me into the holds of the ship to smoke opium with the hollow-eyed crew. In the future, if I can get something rolling to ride to Sturgis in the form of a project, I will be back in the news with reports on the bike and what I plan to build or modify. Meanwhile, we’ve been cruising out of the Sea of Aden, away from Egypt and the Red Sea and into the Indian Ocean. At the bottom of the Red Sea we passed through the narrow Bub el Mandeb Strait between Yemen and Djbouti, Somalia. The Somalia region is notorious for pirates. We had a pirate drill, additional spotlights were mounted on the bridge and all the fire hoses were laid out along the decks in preparation for pirate attacks through the entire Gulf of Aden voyage. Some might scoff at the notion that pirates exist in the 21st century, but don’t be fooled. While I was in Antwerp, Belgium, at the Zeeman’s Hotel, I discovered a shipping trade magazine that featured a shot of a pirate ship off the coast of Taiwan. It was a sleek- looking, used military vessel . For those who still doubt the existence of modern-day pirates, here are some warnings from a recent Telex report on piracy: Bangladesh: Chittagong and Mongla at berth and anchorage. Ships have reported theft of zinc anodes welded to ships’ hulls and sterns. Gulf of Aden: Between four to six fast boats have attempted to board ships around coordinates 14.34/51.22 India: Chennai, Cochin, Haldia, KIandla and Tuticorin anchorages. Indonesia: Belawan, Balikpapan, Lawi Lawi, Merak, Panjang, Samarinda andTanjong Priok (Jakarta) have reported numerous attacks while at berth and anchor. Malacca Straights: Avoid anchoring along the Indonesian coast or in the straits. Particularly risky for hijackings. Malaysia: Bintulu, Penang and Sandakan Philippines: Davao Somalian waters: High-risk area for hijackings. Keep at least 50 miles and, if possible, 100 miles from the Somali Coast. Use of radio communications, including vhf, in these waters should be kept to a minimum. Further warnings included Tanzania, Thailand and Vietnam. Two miles from Parit, Jawa, of the Malacca straits, three pirates armed with guns boarded a fishing boat and robbed the two fishermen. They tied the hands of one fisherman. Pirates tried to remove the OBM of the boat but when they could not, they pushed the two fishermen overboard and sped off with their boat. One fisherman held on to a floating piece of wood and was rescued by another fishing boat. At the Belawan port in Indonesia during loading the duty officer of a tanker was attacked by two pirates armed with knives. The alarm was sounded and the crew was mustered. Pirates jumped into the river and escaped by boat, taking the ship’s stores with them. An officer was wounded. Along the Somali coast a general cargo ship dropped anchor for repairs. Twenty pirates armed with automatic rifles in five boats boarded the ship, taking hostage all 18 crew members and demanding a ransom of $200,000. Six armed pirates in two white speedboats chased and fired upon a freighter and demanded the master to stop engines. The master took evasive maneuvers and ordered the crew to remain in their quarters. The pirates came close to the ship but were unable to board due to rough seas. The reports of attacks continue. If I can control this fast-approaching opium addiction, I will work with the crew to build cannon on the bow to ward off such attacks. My disappointment is severe, but this opium is doing the trick. Future reports may become increasingly garbled. By the middle of next week we’ll be motoring into Singapore for three days. It’s about fucking time. I need a stiff drink and the touch of a woman.

The Scurvy Dog’s Logs Part X Singapore Sling “18 Days At Sea Ain’t Shit To Me” Story, and Photos By Bandit

It’s been 18 long, miserable days at sea. I’ve got the shakes so bad I can’t even hold a drink. I need some dirt, man. I need to feel the land. As usual, the shipping business is a comedy of floating (hopefully) errors. Just when you think the whole mess is wavy, day-to-day drudgery, all hell breaks loose. As we pulled out of Genoa, the captain didn’t know the weight of the cargo. This constitutes the draft of the ship, which you will see is a major consideration in ports. The draft differs depending on the weight of the cargo. The more weight, the more draft, the deeper the ship sits in the water, depending on the viscosity of the water. The man who was supposed to know the answer, the chief officer, had a stack of invoices to dig through. We steamed that night through the straits of Messina between the island of Sicily and the point of the Italian Peninsula. The channel is so narrow that you are required to have a pilot on board if your ship is over15,000 metric tons. We were weighing in at the 30,000-ton range. It was nightfall but I staggered up to the bridge to check the action. Even after midnight, a multitude of water taxis and ferries blasted back and forth across the channel. Let me flash ahead because we covered the Suez Canal, the Red Sea and who knows what else. The salt spray isn’t cocaine but I’m writing about opium and don’t have anything to snort besides salt air. It’s getting to me. You’re going to love this: While in the Suez, someone mentioned that the Rickmers Company sent a box of movies to the ship in Egypt, a Muslim nation. Seems the top 20 were porno or adult films. Needless to say, customs did not allow them on the ship. We are scheduled to receive them here in Singapore. While we were discussing the movie fuck-up, the captain mentioned how strict the people of Singapore are. If you spit on the sidewalk, the fine is $100. He also mentioned how the fueling people try to cheat the ships. They pump almost 1,000 metric tons of fuel in the Bibi (the Leon’s sister ship) that was 16 percent sea water. It’s in court now. Some ships have testers that take drops of the fuel as it is loaded into three bottles, one for the ship, one for the fuel company and one for the lab. In the past, the crooks would ask the chief engineer how much less fuel he wanted. They paid him under the table for the rest. Then they would put water in the fuel because they knew the engineer would keep his mouth shut. Capacity on a ship this size is 1,300 metric tons of fuel oil and 300 tons of diesel fuel. On Monday I saw the captain on the bridge, his young face buried in his hands. Jakarta was calling, wanting to know when we would get there. He doesn’t know and can’t know. He doesn’t have any idea of the cargo being loaded on the ship. He knows that some cargo will be discharged and some shifted but that all depends on what?s being loaded and he doesn’t know. It is out of his control. I tell some wild ass stories that give the impression that we’re lucky we aren’t floating in a sinking life raft off the coast of China. Maybe we will be. We manage to get from day to day with decent food and watch as the corroded ship’s conditions improve. The sordid stories continue, though. Here’s a positive one: The Saturday of the 26th we had an engine room fire drill that consisted of donning fire suits, locking down the engine room and releasing a gas within it. The crew went through the motions, but couldn’t shut down the exterior vents from the engine room due to rust and deterioration. I’ve seen chunks of mild steel a half-inch thick that are so corroded that they look like a chunk of wood left in the desert. The grain of the metal is exposed and separated from the other grains so that the layers peel away from one another, until there is nothing of any strength left. These vents are 5 feet tall and 4 feet wide and louvered with a lever that runs down the center from flap to flap to shut off the escaping air. One of the vents was shot, so the handyman, Kuriata Andrizej, went to work. He set up scaffolding off to the side of the vent and there was a platform in front. He cut the old sonuvabitch off and fabricated a new one. I thought this guy was cool, but not a rocket scientist, or a JesseJames fabricator, until I saw this project finished. I watched as the crew set up a series of hoists to lift the new vent back into place where it took him two days to finish welding the damn thing into place. I was impressed. OK, so now that I mentioned something upbeat about the crew and their abilities to refit a rusted vent, I can get back to the bullshit. A few days out of Singapore the captain had to get the paperwork together. He discovered that if we go ashore as the strange citizens that we are, we would be forced to endure a series of interviews by customs people at their offices. Bad news, so we are now consultants and members of the crew hired by Rickmers to write a book. This is actually not far off. I am writing a book. But does a book about a biker chasing his kidnapped girl have anything to do with Rickmers? All right so last night was the final pirate watch before arriving in Singapore. We had entered the Strait of Malacca between Malay Peninsula and Sumatra. Yesterday we had another pirate alarm drill (general alarm). In this area the threats were even greater than Somalia, so the captain pulled out the stops and taught his crew how to use anything that would shoot from line rockets to flairs. Old rusted spotlights were mounted on the bridge. Extra spots were mounted on the bow and all the firehoses were hooked up and laid along the decks. I broke out my 1-foot blade sheath knife and prepared for the worse. At midnight I was on the bridge with the crew. We were watching out as the Leon and a number of other vessels crept through the straits. The moon was full and it must have been almost 80 degrees. The skies were perfectly clear as we motored along with the flicker of lights occasionally visible on the coast. The night was incredible and we could have seen pirates from a distance as I stood dressed in all black with by blade on my belt and three, 200-meter flairs jammed into my waist band. Nothing happened. I awoke at 7 a.m. and felt the sun beating in the portholes. It was a magnificent day as we steamed toward the tip of Malay into Singapore. I was on the bridge as the harbor pilot came on board. He was a short man who wore a pharmacist?s-style white coat, black pants and deck shoes. He wore gloves as he got on board and made his way to the bridge six decks up. He had a round face and almost black hair. His age was showing in flecks of gray. I found out later as I watched him pull a handkerchief and clean his bifocals that he was retiring that night. It was his last night on the job so he was particularly detail oriented. He wanted nothing to go wrong. That’s where the fun began. There is a buoy that ships must pull near in order to receive a pilot. The buoy was across the channel and since another ship was coming, the captain passed over the channel and continued to wait for the pilot, since he didn’t arrive on time. When the pilot entered the bridge, the captain attempted to shake his hand and welcome him on board but the pilot quickly shrugged off his greeting and abruptly instructed him to stop the ship immediately, back up and use his bow thruster to turn the ship to the starboard. Seems he was on the brink, according to the pilot, of running aground. You have to keep in mind as you picture the captain attempting to back up a 30,000-ton vessel, that no ships moving along at 14 knots do anything on a dime. It?s a tough job that happens at a snail’s pace. The bridge went into red alert while the pilot explained to the captain that he should never cross the channel until the pilot has arrived. If you look at a map you will see that this is one of the few high traffic areas on the globe for ships. There were more than 42 ships surrounding us as we entered the port. Tankers are running back and forth to Saudi Arabia. All the ships from Japan heading to Europe pass through these straits heading west. It’s a goddamn traffic jam. So the captain backed the ship down, threw the bow thruster into gear and lined us up with a couple of buoys leading us into the harbor. Is that all there is? Hell no. First the captain hands over the paper work to the pilot who wasn’t pleased with it and made them change it, but the key fuck-up is next. A Telex was sent to the agent in Singapore several days ago with the cargo figured out and the draft of the ship listed at 9.9 meters, or about 10 yards. He was sent a similar Telex three more times before entering port. The agent contacted the docking people and made arrangements for the parking spot. During the translation of the materials, the draft number was changed to 9 meters. The docking people set them up with a 9.5-meter spot and the agent would not allow the captain to pull into his docking area, but forced him to anchor 300 yards off the docks until appropriate arrangements could be made. That’s where we sit. Welcome to Singapore.

Check out Chapter 3: http://www.bikernet.com/pages/story_detail.aspx?id=9935
Back to Chapter 1: http://www.bikernet.com/pages/story_detail.aspx?id=9933

Most times the best runs are the ones with out 350,000 RUB’s sporting the latest Harley fashion, bright shinny factory billet barges and vendors gouging $2-$3 for a bottle of water. The best runs or events are the ones where a bunch of people with common interests gets together to share ideas and show what they put together with their own imagination and hands.

The Horse Magazine’s 4th annual Smoke Out in Salisbury, N.C. was just such an event. “Why out in the boon docks of Salisbury N.C.” you may well ask? Well for a number of good reasons. First, the locals don’t bend you over and grab your wallet. A good hotel room can still be had for under $50 a night. The local people are friendly and welcome you with open arms (and legs). The local police are kind, considerate and down right understanding of bikers and the countryside is great for a ride any time of day or night.

Over 5,000 folks from every walk of life and on every kind of chopper made the fourth pilgrimage to the Smoke out this year. Illustrator Jon Towle was there signing the posters he drew up for the event. Jose from Caribbean Custom Cycles, Redneck Engineering, Mad Dog and crew from Shadetree breaking the Guinness book of Records for the worlds longest bike, Voodoo Choppers from Detroit, master hand engraver C.J. Allan, Irish Rich from Shamrock Fabrication, Paul Cox Leather, Kevin of Detroit’s Fabricator Kevin, master of stainless steel, Steel City Cycles were just a few of the shops that had displays selling their goods for down to earth prices. Not one $30 West Coast Choppers T-shirt was offered for sale. This was a real event for the down to earth chopper dog.

On hand rounding out the event was the Infamous Ice Cream Man From Hell acting as ringmaster for the festivities. Shooting rolls of Harley toilet paper across the crowd in the entertainment tent, Getting the lovely bare breasted girls to take a spin on the mechanical bull and keeping the crowd entertained for the entire event with his cool Hot Rod Ice Cream Truck circling the fair grounds with sweet ladies tossing Mardi Gras beads to the guys for a change. Discovery Channels own Indian Larry of Gasoline Alley NYC and his crew were there with their winning biker build off Ed Roth “RAT FINK” tribute bike to pose for photos, sign autographs and mingle with the crowd. CONGRATS LARRY & CO. Billy Lane and the Choppers Inc. boys rode in on Saturday morning and spent the day checking out the bikes.

Billy was besieged by fans wanting their picture taken with him and have him sign their shirts, hats, bikes, breasts and butts. Billy insisted on only signing parts of female’s anatomy. He was gracious to everyone that came up to him, especially little kids who followed him around like the Pied Piper.

The staff of the Horse Magazine was on hand to meet their readers. Horse editor Hammer with his calm, quiet Jimmy Stewart style, saw to it that everyone had a place to camp out and anyone that had a break down was sure that Hammer could help them get on the road again. He was last seen running to find a jackshaft for a Primo drive and a welding torch for a guy from Chicago that needed to get back up and running. Geno was to be found at the Horse booth or running around getting photos. English Jim and “Englishman” Dave Gregory, X-Speed, CrazyHorse, Stogie and the others worked their buns off as well.

The choice plum assignment went to yours truly( that would be me). I had the arduous task of photographing the event for posterity, keeping the ladies T-shirts wet, playing security for Billy Lane who certainly didn’t need any and the monumental task of hosting the Horse Maiden contest on Saturday night. Publisher Hank McQueeney also made the rounds passing out free copies of the latest issue of the Horse and personally thanking every one that rode in to the event.

Probably the hardest working guy at the Smoke Out this year was Edge. Edge was in charge of putting the whole shmagagle together from start to finish and a hell of a job he did. Thanks Edge for all the hours, phone calls and e-mails and working out all the last minute screw-ups. We’ll get around to making you a saint at next year’s event.

So what do you need to make an event a huge success? People committed to getting things done. Celebs with out big egos and attitudes, vendors who don’t try to rip you a new one and most importantly loyal readers who show up to support the effort and have a damned good time.

Fab Carla from

Hope to see you all in Salisbury N.C. next year for the Smoke Out V. We just might have some big surprises in store for you.

TBear

BIKERNET NEWS FLASH – THE GRINCH STOLE THE NEWS

But look on the bright side–No news is good news. I won?t make any excuses for Bandit, I?ll only tell the truth. You?ll get no news from him this week because he?s just too damn busy. He?s out in the garage with Nuttboy and Giggy working on the Amazing Shrunken FXR. Before they arrived he wrote the drama you?re about to read. Before that, he worked on another article that you?ll be reading in the near future. I could go on with a list of things this man does day after week after month after year to keep you guys coming back for more, but I think you get the idea.

In place of the news, you get to read the most recent drama from the Cantina. In case you?re not a Cantina member, there?s an on-going soap opera that takes place in a bar called ?Bandit?s Cantina?. There?s violence, sex, drama, sex, mystery, sex??.get it? Every few weeks, a new episode is posted that?s even more exciting than the last. I’d like to give a special thanks to all the folks that did join the Cantina last year. It’s because of their support and our truly appreciated sponsors that we’re able to provide all the misguided crap you get to read on Bikernet.

Back to the “in case you’re not a Cantina member”, what’s the matter with you? JOIN NOW! We wanna continue through 2003 but we need your support. All us women ain’t cheap ya’ know…

Next week things should be back to normal around here, well, as normal as you can expect for the Bikernet Headquarters and all it?s abnormal contributors. It?s been one heck of year for us and we?re pretty damn lucky to get to play ?Bikernet? for a living.

Of course you still get news from my hero Jose this week. After disappointing all of us last week with a teaser, I told him no spanking if he didn?t write at least two paragraphs. (Love ya? Jose, spanking tonight?)

Now, back to the drama. Keep in mind that the characters in this drama were created from the mind of an insatiable, sex-crazed maniac who’s memory sometimes drifts between fact and fiction. Jack induced dementia causes Bandit to hallucinate and write crazy shit that he believes really happened when he comes to. Sometimes I wonder about some of the bullshit he?s written, but then I?ve actually been around when some pretty wild things have happened. So, who?s to say if the man is full of shit or not, or better yet, who cares? It makes for some pretty damn good reading!

Happy Holidays,

Layla

Episode 30 ? Misery Loves Company—The holiday season loomed around the Cantina like a priest standing outside a bar hinting at the evil doings inside. Riders and dock workers were consumed by holiday efforts, family, gift giving and nagging wives. Bandit didn’t mind. He enjoyed the break from the hectic crowds to clean and detail the Cantina, but a few single and depressed customers always kept the lights on.

Clay returned on his late ’80s customized Softail on a regular basis. The bike was his modified and fading home. His open belt drive was frayed, the black wrinkle chipped and the polished aluminum gray and nicked. His divorce had hit home like bomb down the stack of a destroyer. He didn’t see it coming. He had fooled around on his wife on a regular basis for the last 10 years, complaining that she wasn’t for him. When she pulled the plug, he quickly discovered how dependent he was on her and the guilt stormed to the surface. The depression poured over him like a heavy blanket of chain-mail over a midget. He could hardly get out of bed in the morning. He was consumed with anxiety. He had never experienced a mental melt-down. He didn’t know whether to stay drunk all the time, run, do drugs or shoot himself. Nothing made sense and he had no control over what he felt. After last week’s conversation with Mandy, the Cantina was becoming a regular sanctuary from the pain. She gave the impression of a vast male understanding.

He rolled up in front and parked in the bike-only zone then roamed inside through the massive rustic oak doors. Mandy was still behind the bar, but about to close out.

“You’re late,” Mandy said in her giggly voice. She sensed his pain. Watching a biker snivel was against the code of the west, but she was a softy and sorta attracted to his rough handsome exterior. “Are you feeling better?”

“I will after a couple of doubles,” Clay said unable to even look around at the only other patron in the bar. He needed a drink like a heroin addict needs a fix after a week on the run. He felt as though his joints would shear off and he’d crumble to the floor. He almost shook as he pulled the bar stool out and sat, but that didn’t appease the pain. He was too nervous to sit.

“Gold Cadillac?” Mandy asked, her flaming auburn hair warming the room with it’s rich hues. She wanted to hold him and take the pain away.

“Just a straight double shot of Gold,” Clay said standing again.

“Relax,” Mandy said her bright eyes flickering and reflecting the Cantina Christmas tree lights.

“I can’t,” Clay said and his expression was one of a doomed man on death row with less that 24 hours to live. Mandy could have been his fix, if he could see the way she looked at him.

Bandit put up a massive tree each year and patrons brought ornaments, mostly motorcycle oriented. Each year it was covered with more glistening shit. It had no theme, just a myriad of colored ornaments, lights and tinsel. He did it for the brothers and rare sisters who needed the Christmas spirit in their lonely lives. Riders and dock worker brought presents which he gave to local charities.

Clay’s facial features were drawn and pale. He rode in the rain to the Cantina just to get out of a house packed full of sorrowful memories and raging guilt. Mandy pushed the thick beveled shot glass at Clay and disappeared to the other side of the bar to finish cleaning up before she left. Clay downed the double in direct unexpected fashion. He needed something to squash his jangled nerves and he couldn’t wait while sipping at the dense golden liquid. “Mandy,” Clay said wiping hisbearded mouth with the back of his wet sleeve. “Give me another one, quick.”

She heard him but didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t want to leave Nyla with a slobbering basket case. She wiped down the bar and gradually moved back in Clay’s direction.

? Laconiabiker.com

The Cantina was warm but the windows reflected thick gray storm clouds that hung outside like warnings of the future preventing folks from leaving their comfortable homes to come to the Cantina. The battleship gray ominous surroundings added something strange to the usual sunlit California coastline. Most of the time the coast didn’t contain the chilly winter wonderland atmospheres that haunts much of the rest of the country. The Cantina was dark for a late afternoon and sparkled with Christmas decorations, flickering red candles on the tables and glitter. It had all the trappings of a big farm family living room in Mexico.

Clay was less than observant of the radiant nature of the holidays. He was consumed with dread until the Tequila warmed his quaking guts. He finally calmed enough to sit down. Mandy poured him another double.”Have you seen anyone?” she said as she pushed the glass tentatively toward the shrunken man awash in his own emotions. She retrieved the empty as if he might throw it at someone.

Clay’s blue eyes stared at the glass blindly until he realized that she was talking to him. “What do you mean?” Clay said lifting his gaze slowly as if it was tied to the bar top.

“Are to talking to anyone, another girl, a doctor?” she said, leaning close to the bar, but he didn’t notice the warm curve of her breasts.

“No,” Clays said and downed the double in one gulp.

“You need to,” Mandy said.

“Why,” Clay snapped spraying Tequila across the bar, “It’s all my fuckin’ fault.” His fist pounded the thick bar as if he wished he was hitting himself.

“I’ll listen, when you need to talk,” Mandy said moving away.

Clay ground his teeth. Both hands clutched the glass as if he was holding onto a life-saving railing.

“Look,” Mandy said to Clay as Nyla bounced in the Cantina door swaying in her usual upbeat sexy manner. “I’ve got to go, but remember, millions are suffering the blues like you. You’re not alone. Talk to people.”

Clay looked up slightly then withdrew to the empty glass. The Tequila was taking its toll. The nervousness was abating, but his thoughts were only filled with relationship doom. He looked down at his fingernails which he started biting again and the cigarette stains on his index right index finger. He quit smoking just before he got married 15 years ago and was already back to a pack a day and climbing. He wrenched the pack out of his flannel shirt. He popped a smoke free and tugged it out of the pack with his dry cracked lips. He dug the stainless Zippo out of his Levis and unable to hold it in his quivering grasp dropped it onto the concrete deck. He slipped off the stool and crouched near the painted pavement to retrieve the lighter. Every movement was an effort he almost hoped would be his last.

At one time over a decade ago, he could snap open and light a Zippo with the best of them. Not now. His eyes felt dry and unfocused as he puffed lifelessly on the butt.

Nyla bounced around the bar as if she was a kid with her first ticket to Disneyland. She was unbelievably exuberant until she met Mandy at the back corner of the bar. Mandy pointed out Clay and reminded her of the locker room banter they had after Clay first came into the bar. Nyla had no compassion for cheating bastards. She had been the brunt of unfaithful men and nearly shifted whole heartedly to doing women, except for Bandit. As she gazed at Mandy’s jiggling cleavage she was reminded why. She was tall and slender as she stared longingly at Mandy’s opulent cleavage. As she listened to his nasty exploits her light-hearted step became brass mallets against the bar runners. Mandy recognized her demeanor shift.

“Go easy on him,” Mandy pleaded.

Nyla looked at Mandy’s youthful features, at her milky skin, then leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. But the kiss didn’t end there. She slid her hand onto Mandy’s waist and the other cupped the curve of her back just above her ass. Nyla pulled herself close to Mandy’s curvy side and her hot breath reached Mandy’s soft ear. “The bastard must pay,” she whispered and blew into Mandy’s ear canal.

Mandy quivered. There was only one other patron in the bar during this dead time. She could feel Nyla’s hand creep up her taught stomach to the curve of her breast. No one ever tantalized her like Nyla could. As her small delicate feet touched down on the bar mat Nyla slipped away and disappeared into the galley and deeper into locker room where she stashed her purse and jacket. She uncovered her dark brunette hair and brushed it out, then tied it into a ponytail. She pulled on her frilly Mexican style blouse and looked down are her own taught nipples at the point of large slopping breasts, sans a bra. Mandy did that to her. She wished she could shut the Cantina down for just an hour.

She strode out into the saloon section of the Cantina and looked at the festive holiday ambiance. It felt good, warm and holiday comforting, but she was on a mission. Mandy was fearful in a lighthearted way of Nyla’s strong personality matched against the frailty of Clay’s frazzled nerves. Nyla was the female leader of the crew. She had an abject bubbly personality full of wild spontaneity, but behind it was concrete intelligence and emotional strength. She was more goal oriented and responsible than the other girls and her abilities gave the other girls confidence.

Nyla approached the corner of the bar and Mandy’s ass that stuck out at her enticingly. Mandy had cleaned all the glasses and hung them above. The booze island in the center of the 360-degree oblong bar was stocked and neat. She looked past Mandy’s mane of auburn hair to the customer bent over the bar. A biker with long thick sandy blond hair tied in a ponytail. His long face drooping toward the wooded surface of the bar like melting plastic too close to a fire.

Nyla had the soft face of an angel, but the knowing sharp blue eyes of a cop. “Excuse me,” she said to Mandy who was talking to Clay. Mandy stood up straight to her 5’2″ height and turned to Nyla. “I’ll take over now,” Nyla said.”

Mandy turned to face her and Nyla swept the bountiful redhead into her arms bending her at the waist as a man would at the end of a Tango. She kissed her deeply her tongue slithered past her lips to find the switch to launch her lust. At first Mandy pushed against Nyla’s taught arms, but then gave in. What the hell, she wanted another evening with… But she was as work? What if Marko strolled into the bar, what about the other delirious patron? What did it matter? Nyla felt good, real good in a lustful, notorious sense, like she was doing something terribly wrong, but…

She could feel every curve of Nyla’s boobs as they stood up in unison. Then like the last bite of a delicious cake being taken away abruptly, Nyla broke the kiss. She spun the redhead and patted her ass. “Good to see you, baby. I’ll take over from here,” Nyla said and watch longingly as Mandy’s cute ass jiggled around the corner.

“God, I want her,” Nyla said looking at Clay whose sad eyes were scrunched under a wrinkled forehead as if he had been startled by a slap.

“So how may broads did you fuck while you were married?” Nyla asked abruptly.

Clay didn’t respond, but his face changed as if he was slapped again and was beginning to awake from a terrible dream.

“So your wife was a real bitch?” Nyla said sorta moving away from Clay down the bar. as if she had conversations like this daily.

“My wife was not a bitch,” He said as if he felt had to respond, but didn’t know what to say.

“Mandy tells me that your ol’lady is the bread-winner in the family and does alright,” Nyla commented. Before waiting for a response she added, “must have been a real bitch to fuck around with all those women.”

Something was stirring in Clay that he hadn’t sensed in months, passion and anger. He was getting pissed. “What a minute,” he snapped. He had a cigarette half out of the pack but set it down.

“You want another drink, poor boy?” Nyla asked.

“Ahh,” Clay said. Her question shifted his thinking back to his depression. “Ahh, no. Look, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“Do I?” Nyla said. “Where’d you get the money for the drinks?”

“Now wait just a fuckin’ minute,” Clay snapped, stood up and pushed his stool back, as if he was a gunfighter and it was time to draw. “I drove truck for 12 years.”

“So,” Nyla said ignoring his twitching muscles and testosterone induce stance. “What have you done for the last five?”

“She didn’t want me to work,” he recoiled.

“Oh, she paid you to fuck around?” Nyla said.

Clay freaked, grabbed the heavy crystal shaped double glass and threw it across the bar. Nyla ducked, and the empty glass soared across the island to the other side of the bar shattering against one of the stainless steel sinks. The only other patron in the bar flinched.

“Hey motherfucker,” Charlie shouted. He was a homeless dock worker on strike and alone. He was stocky rotund with dark eyes. Marko heard the calamity from his office and ran inside as Charlie began to round the bar in Clay’s direction. Marko, always on security alert, headed off the patron. He had an uncanny ability to sensed the source of a problem. He steered Charlie back to his stool, “I’ll take care of it,” he said. “You okay, babe?” he said to Nyla.

“She’s bullshit,” Clay snapped.

“And you’re a saint?” Nyla said heading to the area scattered with broken glass.

Clay was so mad he wanted to crawl over the bar top and go after her, but Marko headed him off. “Time to go for a ride, pal,” he said turning Clay around away from eye contact with Nyla. “Pull yourself together. She’s just fuckin’ with you.” Marko said.

Marko glanced over at Nyla and they shared a knowing gaze. He led Clay out the door where they walked to the bike only parking next to the front door and looked out over the parking lot toward the Main Channel of the Harbor.

“So you’re pissed?” Marko asked.

“She has no business… if she was a dude…” Clay began.

“Think about it, Pal,” Marko said and put his hand on Clay’s shoulder. “Tomorrow’s another day. The New Year is coming, learn from your mistakes and move on.”

“But…,” Clay tried to interrupt.

“Or don’t come back.” Marko said through his salt and pepper goatee. His sharp blue/gray eyes cut into Clay’s beaten mentality like a jack-knife. Marko left the man to his thoughts and turned back toward the Cantina.

The author, Jose, and some of the Bikernet babes.

BIKERNET CARIBBEAN REPORT–First and foremost this should be my last report of 2002, at last the year is gone, out the window, adios, later. So I just want to wish everyone here, our readers, the staff, Bandit and the ladies, The best year ever, and even more and more good things for 2003, in short The Greatest Year Ever to all of you !!!! Until the next one , that is….

I know that last week’s news left a void in all of our faithful readers and even those who bitch and moan about my antics, but such is the way it is, the season, and a super overfuckinload of work, plus many other reasons which are not relevant, gives us less and less time to do things. Just imagine going on with life as we all know it, plus projects left and right, things to write, etc,etc. So in order to keep quality I decided to make it short instead of writing a bunch of crappy nonsense ( Isn’t that what I do every week ???) So that’s why, and that’s it. But as we all know, the meek shall inherit nothing…. So here we go…

Since it’s the day after Christmas, and I’m sure all you naughty boys and girls did get some presents anyway, so did I. My friends from the HOG chapter gave me a really cool ” company” shirt, which gave me a burning desire to wash my new CLK Benz (courtesy of Bikernet) and wax it, may I humbly report that those shirts are kick ass to take the wax off very expensive German cars. I also received my new gas tank, for the Chopper project, Yes I thought of everyone and promptly shot some photos.

Just so you hate me some more, the temps here are still 81 to 75 degrees, the day was awesome today, so we took out Choppers, no , no poser HD’s and took a quick trip thru the cobblestone streets of Old San Juan, you can’t certainly beat the gift of living here, no sir !

I also got some patches made for all our customer, it’s red and white and says FTF ! I told them it meant Factory Twin Cams Forever, and I guess they believed me….He,he… Plus I managed to save some more from the doom of boredom and managed to mock up a couple more bikes in this couple days, It’s always good for the Chopper World Domination army to save those misguided souls. Anyway, enough good deeds…Let’s get to the last news of the year, or could they be the first of the new year?? Who gives a flying fuck…Let’s get there…

Choppers Inc, The Horse and Caribbean Custom Cycles have joined forces to have the coolest Chopper booth in Daytona Bike Week 2003, we will all be there, and you must come pay a visit, we will be at Beach street at the Buick/ Cadilac dealership, yes, for those who have been there before, is that lot where all the big guys are, if you see the PM truck, we will be close by, one thing for sure, all the cool choppers in Daytona will be close by, since the posers will be busy riding up and down Main street…Be there !

Our friend Irish Rich has opened shop in Denver Colorado, this guys is a master of old skool and fabrication, check it out www.Shamrockfabrication.com, tell Rich I sent you….

Watch for our upcoming features at The Horse, we have taped into a new source of Horse Maidens and it seems will be very worth while..for all of us.. we are hidding the new builds for that, so keep your eyes peeled.

Speaking of The Horse, yours trully has been upgraded in the magazine ranks, I still don’t know what the hell are they going to call me, (nothing good I hope) but I guess it’s a higher step in the food chain, let’s see what happens.

Now about my web site,ChopperFreak.com I’m taking the time to redo, revamp, re whatever for the new year…Maybe it will be ready before 2004, if we manage to get some time to do it. Anyway, I’m outta here, I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing writing this Christmas night, when all the drunk and horny chicks are partying in the streets of Old San Juan…. See ya’ next year…. At least I will be able to clean up all that old ammo, the Ak, sks, AR, etc will get the New Year dust off…Who needs firecrackers when you’ve got firepower..

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!!!

Jose…Bikernet Caribbean news….

Short and not sweet—Sorry folks but like I said, next week will be better. We?ve been working on a new look for the face of Bikernet that?ll be revealed next year. We?ve also been getting a lot more contributions from ordinary people with extraordinary tales and bikes. We welcome anything you want to pass our way and thank you for the taking the time to put your stories together and email us. If it wasn?t for you folks, Bikernet would be just another biker site. But because of you, we like to think of ourselves as ?One of the LARGEST motorcycle websites of its kind?!

All thanks to you, and me, and Jose, and Digital, and Crazy Horse, and Nuttboy, and Sin, and, and, and, oh, and Bandit.

See ya!

Have a happy and safe New Year from the entire staff here at Bikernet!

They aren’t the staff, these are the neighborhood thugs we hired to protect the headquarters. We pay them with Hot Cheetos and soda.

BIKERNET NEWS FLASH–NEW DIXIE WEB SITE, NEW STURGIS FILM, CLOSE CALL IN THE OZARKS AND EPA OUT TO GET US

Continued From Page 2

NEW SURGICAL STEEDS CREATION–Watch for a full feature on the bike above on Bikernet in the next week. There’s always something new stirring.

ARE WE COMMUNICATING??– A man spoke frantically into the phone, “My wife is pregnantand her contractions are only two minutes apart!”

“Is this herfirst child?” the doctor asked. “No!” the man shouted, “This is herhusband!”

–from Rogue

A CHRISTMAS POEM–

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the pad,
There was nada happenin’, now thats pretty bad.
The woodstove was hung up in that stocking routine,
In hopes that the Fat Boy would soon make the scene.

With our stomachs packed with tacos and beer,
My girl and I crashed on the couch for some cheer.
When out in the yard there arose such a racket,
I ran for the door and pulled on my jacket.

I saw a large bro’ on a ’56 Pan
Wearin’ black leathers, a cap, and boots (cool biker, man).
He hauled up the bars on that bikeful of sacks,
And that Pan hit the roof like it was running on tracks.

I couldn’t help gawking, the old guy had class.
But I had to go in — I was freezing my ass.
Down through the stovepipe he fell with a crash,
And out of the stove he came dragging his stash.

With a smile and some glee he passed out the loot,
A new jacket for her and some parts for my scoot.
He patted her fanny and shook my right hand,
Spun on his heel and up the stovepipe he ran.

From up on the roof came a great deal of thunder,
As that massive V-twin ripped the silence asunder.
With beard in the wind, he roared off in the night,
Shouting, “Have a cool Yule, and to all a good ride!”

–TBEAR

“If life was fair, Elvis would be alive and all the impersonators would be dead.”

– Johnny Carson

–from Kris. B.

EMISSIONS OUT OF CONTROL — The National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM) is urging all concerned motorcyclists and motorcycle organizations to write to the federal Environmental Protection Agency and voice their opposition to new EPA motorcycle emissions regulations which will drastically alter the way motorcycles are built in the future by reducing allowable tailpipe emissions by more than 80%, necessitating the use of catalytic converters, fuel injection and liquid cooling.

The EPA has extended their comment period until January 7 to allow concerned motorcyclists to respond to their proposed rulemaking. You can write to the EPA at the following address:

Margaret Borushko
US EPA
National Vehicle & Fuels Emissions Laboratory
2000 Traverwood
Ann Arbor MI 48105
*Refer to: Docket A-2000-01 (Emission Control Issue)

NCOM has sent letters to nearly 2,000 motorcycle shops enrolled in their Independent Shop Program (ISP) nationwide, urging them to comment on the EPA proposed new emissions standards, as well as contact their congressional representatives and urge them to co-sponsor HR 5433, the ?Motorcycle and Motorcycling Small Business Protection Act,? introduced by U.S. Representative James Barcia of Michigan. Also known as the Barcia Act, this legislation would establish reasonable emissions standards for street motorcycles and will safeguard thousands of small businesses threatened by the EPA rulemaking.

?The Barcia Act will safeguard jobs and protect motorcycling in America, thereby reducing fuel consumption, traffic congestion and air pollution,? writes Richard Lester, Founder of NCOM.

Please contact your congressman today, because tomorrow may be too late!

Watch for more news on upcoming EPA regs in the Bikernet Rights Department.

BIKERNET OZARK REPORT, CLOSE CALL–There’s this guy, panty man danny and he was having a party at his house Saturday night. Danny has a barbershop and does airbrush painting on the side. Titty bar Mike likes him, but I tend to think of him as a “hairdresser and an artist”. I call him panty man because he told us he wears gel filled underwear when he rides his bike. Me and Danny have clashed several times and I know it’s been my fault.

He used to date this chick Rochelle and she had a job that was sorta like what I do. When I see her we talk the whole time. Panty man never liked it, and he would come over and ask what we were doing and we would just talk over him. He knew what we were talking about and had no interest in it, but he didn’t like me spending that much time with her. It was innocent and he knew it, but he didn’t like it. He never said to stop or anything like that!

He broke up with rochelle and started dating the juvee girl at the beginning of last summer. I met her about that time and as you know we hit it off. I knew that he was taking her to the drag races on Mothers Day this year and me and juvee girl flirted with each other every time Isaw her before the races. Well that Saturday night at the races is where it all began with me and her and Danny could tell. She was on my bike all night and was ignoring him.

Late that night panty man asked me why don’t I go spend time with my own girl, who was there with Miss Kitty. I was very drunk and my girl was trying to get me to stop riding. The parking lot makes a circle around the track and me and juvee girl had been riding the circle with the rest of the crowd. After panty man said something I decided that it was time to sit for a while. I didn’t want a big ole deal at the party because I was just messing around with the chick and didn’t really care. He knew though that she wanted to spend the time with me instead of him. They quit seeing each other right after that, and he has seen me and her together several times. The tension is still there.

Friday night at miss kittys, Panty man told me and Skitzo about his party. Titty bar Mike and Miss Kitty had already talked my girl into going, and I knew I wasn’t going to get out of it. I tried to talk Skitzo into going but he wouldn’t commit. I called him at the shop on Saturday right before he got off work, and he said if I could talk Phillip’s girl into going he would go. I talked to her and she decided to go. Skitzo said he would call me before they left and we were going to hook up and burn before the party.

Shit started happening at my house and at 8 was waiting for Slim shady Shaun to come over to help me with something. Titty bar Mike and Miss Kitty were waiting for me at their house. Skitzo called and said he was at the party. “When was I coming?”

I thought he was coming over to my house, first. Then I figured it out. He brought juvee girl and was planning on putting me in a trick bag. He decided to spice up the party by getting my girl, Phillip’s girl, me and the juvenile all at the same place and drinking. After talking to him on the phone, I knew something was up. I called Phillip’s girl, and she told me juvee girl was there. I stalled and stalled and stalled. I knew juvee girl didn’t want to be at Panty man’s so by the time we got there they were gone. Narrow miss. Nice try. I’ll get skitzo for the attempt, although, you gotta love it.

–Ozark Ed

NEW STURGIS FILMS– Hi, my name is Ryan Thiel and I’m a director and editor for Road Weary Films Inc. My brother and I?have been?directing independent films and documentaries?for the past few years in Chicago, Ill.?Most of our family is from South Dakota so it?seemed inevitable that we would make?a Sturgis Doc. This past year we captured a great party. Some of the events include hillclimbs, dragraces, coleslaw wrestling, scenes from the?bars and late night rides, also, segements on?the?Buffalo Chip, Glencoe, Huelett,?the rides in the hills, etc… So far we’ve had great reviews, Mike Sanbourn, Marketing Director at Buffalo Chip, said “it was the best Sturgis film I’ve seen.”?We also take a look into the culture through numerious interviews and the introduction of new characters (people we meet and followed, obtaining the true essence of the biker)?that will be seen in the following films. ??

?We will be releasing the film on DVD, VHS, and PAL for international orders?this next week. We are selling are videos at roadwearyfilms.com. We are also selling the video on other websites and custom shops nationally at a bulk rate.?If you would like to see our product, the front cover and a brief discription of the video can be found at our website. You can also contact me or?Dave Lowe, manager of distribution, at our toll free number 1-888-214-3901 or (605) 716-9394 for a look at the film.??

–Ryan Thiel
Road Weary Films

THE DIXIE RIDER REPORT–I don’t write often, because I know you’ve got more to do than read useless email from folks like me, but I wanted to let you know about our new and improved web site. If I’ve done this right, you should be looking at the new front page of Dixie Rider .com with hot links and everything. If you click on the Dixie Rider logo, that will take you to the website.

April- Dixie Rider is sponsoring a new type of rally here in Swainsboro Georgia in April. The Saturday before Easter, April 19, Dixie Rider is sponsoring the Black Jacket Road Master Rally. This is a time, distance, and speed road rally that will test your ability to maintain a set speed throughout the entire ride. The winner will be the person who comes closest to an average speed of 48 mph. (no GPS, Computers or electronic assisted motorcycles allowed.) Stopwatches and simple calculators are the only devices that will be allowed. The winner will receive the Black leather Jacket with the Champion embroidered patch on the breast. Entry is $25.00 and each person who enters will receive a t-shirt.

June- The Iron Cavalry Reunion. We’ll host it again this year in Helen Georgia.?June 6-8. We’ll announce special?room/rally packages?soon.

The Web Site- New Readers Pics? We’ve spent the last couple of days uploading a bunch of reader submitted photographs, and photos from Tommy Pittard and?Miserable George, ?our roving photo journalists. Send us an email if you’d like someone to cover your event and post your event photos on our web site. I can’t promise that we can get to all of them, but who knows, we might get to yours. Click here to visit the photo index page http://www.dixierider.com/index_of_readerpics.htm

Goodbye to a friend- On a sad note, Daytona recently lost a well known tattoo artist, Charlie at Willie’s Tropical Tattoo passed away recently. Willies gets a lot of biker business during Bike Week and Biketoberfest and it’s possible that many of you have a tat that Charlie inked. He was well loved and will be missed.

New issues on Web Site- Many of you know that we’ve tried various means to post our issues each month on the web without much success. The problem is that using conventional means, getting an issue on site each month is time consuming. We think we have solved the problem using low-res PDF’s. So beginning with the January issue, we’ll post our edition on the web each month by the first week in the month. If you don’t have a subscription, or can’t get to a motorcycle shop this will benefit you. Each issue will post exactly as it would appear if you held it in your hands. You can even print it out. You’ll need Adobe Reader for this but it’s free and 99% of you already have it on your computer. Those of you still on modem dial up may have slightly longer download times but cable and DSL modem folks will blaze right through it. Let us know what you think about this new service. Keeping you entertained and informed, that’s our job.

O.K. I hope this year’s holidays are good to each of you and that your New Year is full of joy and hope. I also hope it’s full of money, in fact so much money that you’ll need a good tax write off and will sponsor me in my quest to drink a beer in every major city in the United States in 2003. Think of it, you could be a part of something big. Something truly historic. Well…..maybe not historic, but I can promise you it’d be fun. Uh…not fun for you…I’d be the one traveling and drinking…. but fun for me…after all, it was my idea….I only need you for the money……I will buy you a t-shirt..

Remember, submit your events for the 2003 calendar, submit your guess for the front page each month (and possibly win a 2003 edition of the Bikers Atlas) and submit your pictures you have taken at the parties you attended…it’s your Dixie Rider, help us make it the best motorcycle rag it can be! Ride Safe, and always take the road less traveled by.

Scott Cochran, Editor
Dixie Rider Motorcycle News
www.dixierider.com

WOMEN–Sometimes we are not thinking about you. Live with it.?

–from Buckshot

MERRY GODDAMN CHRISTMAS–I’m outta here. I was contacted by the esteemed editor, Joshua Placa, of Cruising Rider. He told me in no uncertain terms that I was to find a new Victory Vega and convince the owner, ’cause I don’t steal scoots, that he should allow me to road test the sucker and shoot it for the cover of a magazine. I’ll report on that later.

Watch the site in the next couple of weeks. If I can avoid the holidays for a couple of days and sequester my ass away from the parties, you’ll see a myriad of colorful features and tech articles jump onto the site. If not, don’t blame it on the holidays and a certain Tennessee distiller.

Try to relax and have a helluva good time during the holidays.

–Bandit

BIKERNET NEWS FLASH–CARIBBEAN HOLIDAYS, H-D DAYTONA SCHEDULE AND PARKING LOT FEATURE BIKE

Continued From Page 1

MASTERMIND TECH QUESTION–I just ran across a barn job that I think you’ll get a kick out of: I pulledthe point cover off a friend’s old FLH, and noticed the breaker plate screwslooked wierd. You know, the ones that hold the plate, and the cover screwsgo inside them… Anyway, somebody stripped the holes in the cam cover out,so they cut an inch of threads off a couple of old spokes, screwed themhalfway into the spoke adjuster nuts (the ones that go through the rim),glued ’em in, re-tapped the holes, and used the slot at the top to tightenthem against the breaker plate. Then they just used bigger cover platescrews. Been less work to change the fuckin’ cover, which I now have to do!

–Buckshot

HOLIDAYS DOES STRANGE THINGS TO PEOPLE–Bandit,You know how Mike always wants to be like you? Well, now he is after another of your records — he presented me with a diamond engagement ring today at work. I know you must be brokenhearted that I’m off the market, after what we have meant to each other, but you’ll get over it in time!

We wanted to share our news with you!!!!

Love and kisses,
Meanest

I don’t know how many times Mike has been married, but I would bet he will need to meet a couple more divorce attorneys before he’s in my league.–Bandit

ANOTHER 2003 MODEL IN THE BIKERNET FAMILY–Here is my?new bike. I just picked up last week. We scored this bike because my wife won a 883 H-D on Labor day and this is what we upgraded it to. This FLH is pretty unreal when you talk about comfort. By the way your Road King look’s great…

–Chris Tronolone

A BIKERNET FIRST, THE PARKING LOT BIKE FEATURE–We’ve rattled some stange cages on Bikernet, but here’s a first. This bike is so wild and innovative that Rigid Frame Richard stopped dead in the lumbering tracks at an event to shoot a complete feature of it and chase down the owner.

“Here is one of the bikes that were at the toy run yesterday. It isdifferent I’d say. Estimated 1,200 bikes atthe toy run and I had great day.

“This year it was at least warmer but still very wet. You should have seenall the fair weather folks yesterday they sure weren’t out there last week when the Toy Run was rained on!”–RFR

Watch for all of RFR’s images in the bike feature area coming soon. This bike is too strange to concieve.

Pigeon beach in Antigua and a shot from Shirley Heights, atop English Harbour….

BIKERNET CARIBBEAN REPORT–Today is a day I would give everything I have to be able to be in Antigua, English Harbour to be more exact, at the hill, in a small cabana looking over Fallmouth . No phones, no computer, no TV, nothing, nada, zip… Just the wind and the cobalt sea, the sailboat’s halyards beating against the spars, the semi arid hills as a back drop, and the sound of the reggae, calypso and steel drums heard from afar. The trade winds instead of AC, the music of the tropical afternoon rain hitting the metal roof….. If any of you have ever been there you know what I’m talking about…..If you don’t, you will never know what you are missing….. Man I wish I was there……

Today it’s all going to be short and sweet. If I were Santa Claus, and that would be really far fetched, just imagine a Santa in the tropics, bermuda shorts, flip flops, t-shirt, skinny and tanned.., nope, it would not work out, I would give all of you this… And here’s my list of presents for all our readers, the ones that like my stuff and the ones who don’t, so here we go.

The precious commodity of being Happy
Honesty
Respect
Health to you and your loved ones
An open mind
Talent
And last but not least, Humility.

I wish everyone here a very, very Merry Christmas, a cool chopper under every tree, and the fortune of being able to share it all.Like someone told me this year… People like us will live forever…..Again this and a lot more are my sincere wishes to all of you.

–Jose Bikernet Caribbean Report.

HARLEY-DAVIDSON ANNOUNCES DAYTONA ?BIKE WEEK? SCHEDULE–Milwaukee, WI (Dec. 18, 2002) – Harley-Davidson Motor Company brings the excitement of its 100th Anniversary to one of the best motorcycle events of the year. The Harley-Davidson schedule of events are now complete for the 62nd annual ?Bike week? at Daytona Beach, Fl. February 28 to March 9, 2003.Harley-Davidson events will run from March 3-9. Highlights include: Harley-Davidson and Buell demo rides, Harley-Davidson Traveling Museum, Ford Vehicle display, MDA Auction and Raffle, and the Ride-In Show Contest.?I?m looking forward to next year?s event,? said Stephanie Schaefer, Manager of Event Marketing for Harley-Davidson Motor Company. ?With our company?s 100th Anniversary right around the corner, this is sure to be the best ?Bike Week? yet.?The public is invited to enter their Harley-Davidson motorcycles in the Ride-In Show Contest on March 5th. The $10 entry fee will be donated to Muscular Dystrophy Association, and each participant will receive a special edition commemorative plaque designed by Willie G. Davidson. Best of Show winners will receive $200 dollars cash and $500 dollars will be awarded to the top Sportster and Big Twin motorcycles adorned with Harley-Davidson Genuine Motor Accessories. Registration will be held at Ocean Center from 8-11am.

*Information subject to change.*

Monday, March 3
H-D and Buell Demos International Speedway
H.O.G. & BRAG New Product Reception 5PM-8PM Ocean Center Arena
*Open to H.O.G. members and one guest only.*

Tuesday, March 4
H-D and Buell Demos 9AM-3PM Daytona
International Speedway
Indoor Show 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
Traveling Museum 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Outside East
Free Bike Wash 10AM-4PM Ocean Center Outside South
The Harley Store 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
Willie G. T-Shirt Sales 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
H.O.G. & Co. 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
H.O.G. Hospitality 10AM-5PM Ocean Center 2nd floor
Ford Vehicle display ??????? 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
Seminar TBA Ocean Center

Wednesday, March 5
Ride-in Show Registration 8AM-11AM Ocean Center East Side
H-D and Buell Demos 9AM-3PM Daytona International Speedway
Indoor Show 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
Free Bike Wash 10AM-4PM Ocean Center Outside South
Traveling Museum 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Outside East
The Harley Store 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
Willie G. T-Shirt Sales 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
H.O.G. & Co. 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
H.O.G. Hospitality 10AM-5PM Ocean Center 2nd floor
Ford Vehicle display ??????? 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
Seminar TBA Ocean Center
Ride-In Show Judging 11AM-3:30PM Ocean Center East Side (new location)
Ride-in Show Awards (CASH PRIZES) 4:00PM Ocean Center East Side (new location)

Thursday, March 6
H-D and Buell Demos 9AM-3PM Daytona International Speedway
Indoor Show 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
Free Bike Wash 10AM-4PM Ocean Center Outside South
Traveling Museum 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Outside East
The Harley Store 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
Willie G. T-Shirt Sales 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
H.O.G. & Co. 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
H.O.G. Hospitality 10AM-5PM Ocean Center 2nd floor
Ford Vehicle display ??????? 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
Seminar TBA Ocean Center

Friday, March 7
H-D and Buell Demos 9AM-3PM Daytona International Speedway
Indoor Show 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
Free Bike Wash 10AM-4PM Ocean Center Outside South
Traveling Museum 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Outside East
The Harley Store 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
Willie G. T-Shirt Sales 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
H.O.G. & Co. 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
H.O.G. Hospitality 10AM-5PM Ocean Center 2nd floor
Ford Vehicle display ??????? 10AM-5PM Ocean Center Arena
Seminar TBA Ocean Center

Saturday, March 8??????
H-D and Buell Demos 9AM-3PM Daytona International Speedway
Indoor Show 10AM-4PM Ocean Center Arena
Free Bike Wash 10AM-2PM Ocean Center Outside South
Traveling Museum 10AM-4PM Ocean Center Outside East
The Harley Store 10AM-4PM Ocean Center Arena
Willie G. T-Shirt Sales 10AM-4PM Ocean Center Arena
H.O.G. & Co. 10AM-4PM Ocean Center Arena
H.O.G. Hospitality 10AM-4PM Ocean Center 2nd floor
Ford Vehicle display ??????? 10AM-4PM Ocean Center Arena
MDA Auction & Bike raffle Noon Ocean Center Arena
AMA Short Track National 7PM Municipal Stadium?????

Sunday, March 9
Parade Formation 8:30AM-9:30AM Bellair Plaza
Harley Heaven 9AM Daytona International Speedway
Daytona 200 1PM Daytona International Speedway

ALERT! EASYRIDERS SHOW CANCELED–The Pomona, California Easyriders Bike Show scheduled for the first weekend in January has been canceled. We’ll let you know when we find out more about the ER schedule.

Continued On Page 3

BIKERNET NEWS FLASH–SOME GOOD, SOME BAD

As usual I don’t know where to start. The headquarters are in shambles. After the cops left we tried to straighten up the vast complex of offices packed with party favors and gifts. Hell it’s only Thursday in the middle of the day and the Christmas Party hasn’t been launched. I need to bury myself in a high speed cable connected cave. We’ve got a number of hot features hanging in the wind and I need to step up to the plate, edit and launch every last one of them. Dat’s my job, but between the holidays, writing assignments, editing, drinking Jack, working on bikes and chasing a woman from time to time, I’m a bundle of deadline frazzled nerves. I need to hide.

Some reports indicated that the Internet hasn’t been the landfall fulla gold it was reported to contain, but Bikernet is growing and we’re proud of all that we’ve accomplished this year. We’re so proud we sent all or our contributors and Sponsors naked women for Christmas. I suppose that’s the present I would prefer daily, so it may have been a Freudian slip, but what the hell.

Let’s get to the news before I ramble myself into hot water?

DON VESCO GOES TO THE SALT FLATS IN THE SKY–During the ’70s Don was a thorn in the side of the American motorcycle land speed record crowd. He was the first person to ride a motorcycle over 250 miles an hour in 1970, and in 1975 he was the first to travel over 300 mph on a motorcycle, always Jap bikes. In 1978 he broke the World Land Speed Record for motorcycles on a Kawasaki at 318 mph and held the record for 12 years, before Easyriders broke the record in July of 1990. I was proud to be on the team.

I met Don last year when I was assigned to interview him for Hot Rod Bikes. He was a man who loved speed in any form. He currently holds the record for the fastest wheel-driven vehicle at 458.44 mph. Unfortunately, this Monday, the 16th of December, the 63-year-old speed demon who died of prostrate cancer, would still be a racing fool if it wasn’t for this illness. He will be missed by racers all over the world.

You’re not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on….Dean Martin

–from Jill Z.

DEVIL DOLLS SANCTIONED CALENDAR RELEASE PARTY–The Devil Dolls are having their official 2003 Calendar release party at Black Widow Eyewear and Leather in San Francisco this coming Saturday, the 21st. The party is hosted By our good friends Judy and Jerry Hart at their brand new, very cool shop.

There will be food, beverages, tattooing, Goth Christmas Carols, and as always with the Dolls, a whole lotta fun! Join us please, you never know what will happen when we are involved. Black Widow is located at:

249 9th Street
San Francisco, CA
Phone: 415-863-3937
Devil Doll Hotline: 415-546-3700

If you’re in the bay area, you better be there, it’s mandatory–Devil Dolls Motorcycle Club.

BIKERNET BOOK REVIEW–It was Sunday, 10:27 am. I was a tranquilized beast, drooling on my pillow and bellowing like a thunderous chorus of chainsaws. My slumber was pierced by an obnoxious ringing and I cursed myself for leaving the alarm on. I took out my self-hatred by bashing the “off” button. The racket continued so I hurled that little bastard across the room. The tormenting tone persisted. I withdrew my S&W Model 13 from under my pillow, cocked the hammer, and was ready to put this fucker out of commission for good when I realized it was actually my door buzzer. Foggy consciousness will play Loki tricks on you like that. Just who the hell was this? I had been out with most of my people until 7am – so it shouldn’t be any of them. I knew this had to be serious.

I crept to the door and put my eye on the peephole. On the other side I glimpsed the face of no one that I knew. I opened the door and there stood a man in mailman regalia holding a conspicuous package. Now, this was SUNDAY morning – I could smell the scam. Either this was some dumbass street punk trying to take it to the next level of house casing with this shoddy disguise, or it was some sinister fiend with more insidious intents. I wasn’t taking any chances with this potential anthrax peddler – in the second it took to deliberate all this I had already grabbed his arm, twisted it, bitten down on it, hemmed him up, and started bashing his head against the wall with my free hand. “I” [whap] “am” [crack] “just” [bang] “the” [thud] “mailman” [crash of his head going through my door window]. Shit, could I have just been groggy paranoid? That’s when I saw the mail truck out on the street. All I could say was, “Ahh…I’m sorry.”

There was a glistening alchemical mixture of blood and tiny glass shards waterfalling down his face. I took pity on this pathetic lump. “Good god, man, come on in and pull yourself together.” I tossed him a roll of gauze and pointed the way to the bathroom, “and don’t worry about that bite, I’m not rabid.” He emerged with below-the-neck composure regained but his head was wrapped like a half-assed mummy. I offered him some shots of ice cold Jeigermeister. I was trying my best to avoid catching a court case. I figured drunkeness was a great forgiver. I asked, “What the hell business do you have coming around here on a Sunday?”

His retort, “You have an Express Mail package – we deliver those any day, including Sunday?s and holidays.” This I did not know. He expressed that this was not common public knowledge and that it was not unusual for mailmen to be greeted on these delivery days with acts of raw violence and brutality. “It’s all in a days work for me.” He then launched into a diatribe on his career highs and lows, but that is of no consequence here.

Ahh yes, the package. What could be so important as to warrant a Sunday delivery? I murked over to the mysterious parcel, eyeballed it, and saw it was of foreign origin! “What the hell?” No more deliberations – I attacked like a lion tearing through the flesh of a freshly downed gazelle. Shreds of manila flew until I got to the prize – a big, weighty, hardcover book. Further inspection revealed that this wasn’t some gaudy coffee table book-of-the-month club waste of a dead tree, no way Jack. This was IT – a book that I had been on the hunt for like a depraved archaeologist seeking an ancient relic. This was a treasure I had heard only rumors of. A book that only the highest ranking members of secret inner-sects of hidden chopper building societies claimed to possess. This was “Zero Chopper Spirit.”

For those of you who have not infiltrated the 33rd degree of the chopper sects, have not undertaken any serious study of the corpus of chopper texts, or are generally just not “in the know,” Zero Engineering has been making INCREDIBLE choppers for over a decade. Their bikes are a balance of artistry, performance, and spirituality. Take one look and you’ll see how these three points intersect and gracefully makeup each Zero motorcycle.

In 1991, Zero founder Shinya Kimura planted the roots of his company in Okazaki City, Japan. Since then they have produced a multitude of soulfully styled Flathead, Knucklehead, Panhead, Shovelhead, and Sportster choppers AND race bikes (the other side of the Zero spirit). Over 30 bikes are documented in this book (even an old 48 H-D Hummer) ? each beautifully illustrated with full color photos and a spec sheet.

The books? creation is a story in itself. In 1994, Kaz Yamaguchi discovered this hidden tribe of builders at a bike show. He started to photo-journalistically and anthropologically record these bikes and builders. Later, upon meeting with Shinya Kimura, he was granted permission to produce this heavyweight book of Zero creations. So off he went, armed with a notepad and Nikon, to hunt down the Zero choppers that were now unleashed onto the populace of Japan. This search took him from the cities to the countryside. All of which serve as scenic backdrops to the bike photos.

Incidentally, Kaz states that he was an amateur photographer when he started the book ? but the photo quality in this book is way beyond amateur status. The reader is also told that the bikes in this book are only part of the Zero Empire. There are many more out there that have not yet been tracked down ? so there are hints of another book in the works?

>Unfortunately, the ?Zero Chopper Spirit? is not widely available in the States as of now. It is published (Chop Stick Publishing) in Japan, and available in English and Japanese editions from Kaz?s website: http://www.zerochop.com. I?ll keep you updated when it?s available in the states. You can also check out The Horse Backstreet Choppers issue #23 (May 2002) for more coverage.

Note to my mailman: Stop by for a free copy when I get more in. You earned it, my man!

–Truth

BIKERNET INVESTIGATES MEMORY–They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them. Send this phrase to the people you’ll never forget and remember to send it also to the person who sent it to you. It’s a shortmessage to let them know that you’ll never forget them. If you don’t send it to anyone, it means you’re in a hurry and that you’ve forgotten your friends.

–from Steve Bauman

CHOPPER GUYS COME TO BIKERNET AS A NEW SPONSOR–ChopperGuys is one of the few companies that puts quality way ahead of quantity. There frames are straight and and built solid. They’re totally American made and they take extra time during the construction process to make sure you have a quality chassis for your next ride. Here’s an example of their extensive line of frames:

“BEEFY” SOFTAILS

Features 1 1/8? diameter main frame tubing with a 35 degree rake and 1 3/4? stretch in the backbone.Billet ?wrap around? style axle plates.1 1/4? lower than stock height.Pro-style billet tank mounts and pro-style neck accepts stock triple trees.This frame comes complete with the swing arm, pivot bearings, swing axis tube, axle, axle locators, and CG bolts. These frame are available to accept either a 180 to 200 mm tire, or a 230, 240, or 250 mm tire.

Note : 230 and 240 mm tire require 1? offset tranny plate . 250 tire applications require 1 1/4? offset tranny plate. (appropriate offset tranny plates are included in kit, please specify tire size at time of order.)

PART NUMBERS:FRM-FGSSB-Fat Guy softail frame with billet axle plates, will accept 180 or 200 mm tire.(PICTURED)RETAIL PRICE $2202.81

FRM-FGSM23-Fat Guy softail frame with billet axle plates, will accept 230 – 250 mm tire. RETAIL PRICE $3034.06

FIRST, GOD CREATED– First, God created First the Lord made man in the Garden of Eden. Then he said to himself, “There’s something he’s needing’ “.

After casting about for a suitable pearl,
He kept messing around and created a girl.

Two beautiful legs, so long and so slender,
Round, slim, and firm, and ever so tender.

Two lovely hips to increase his desire,
> And rounded and firm to bring out the fire.

Two lovely breasts, so full and so proud,
Commanding his eyes, as he whispers aloud.

Two lovely arms, just aching to bless you,
And two loving hands, to soothe and caress you.

Soft, cascading hair hung down ‘oer her shoulder,
And two dreamy eyes, just to make him grow bolder.

‘Twas made for a man, just to make his heart sing.

Then he added a mouth…
Ruined the whole fucking thing.

–from Steve Bauman

OPEN LETTER TO ONE-PERCENTERSREGARDING COLORS– “Liar, liar pants on fire your nose is longer than a telephone wire.”

The new Four Corners rally organizers were quoted as saying the patch clubs would not be welcome.Quote:Wallace said he’s been contacted by one-percenter clubs but has not encouraged them to come. “We’ve tried to put the word out (that) if they’re looking for trouble, they’re not welcome here,” he said.

That is not true. Creig Wallace President of Rally in the Rockies never said any such thing. Dan Bradshaw Executive Director of Four Corners Rally in the Rockies and Creig Wallace President of Four Corners Rally in the Rockies welcomes all three-piece patch clubs.

Offending publications, would have you believe the new rally plans on neutering, “Four Corners Rally turning a successful event into a passively domesticated RUB affair.” That is NOT TRUE!

Deception published in magazines or newspapers is unprofessional journalism. An interview supposedly between Dan Bradshaw and Creig Wallace that never took place was published anyway. Foolish reporters and reckless publications use the tool of print erroneously personally attributing to the organizers a bias against the patch holding clubs.

www.rallyintherockies.com
Email: dustymissbb@netscape.net

HELEN WOLFE KEEPS THE MEMORY OF THE GUGGENHEIM ALIVE–In the last two weeks the Las Vegas Guggenheim display was dismantled, but our master Photographer has images of the classic bikes available for viewing. Check it out: www.helenwolfe.com/Guggenheim. It’s a clean site and easy to navigate. Enjoy.

Nope, the above bike was not displayed in the Guggenheim, but it’s an old original Arlen Ness creation that Helen found at a drag race and photographed. It’s a classic.

Continued On Page 2

BIKERS RIGHTS UPDATE–EPA ON THE ATTACK–GET INVOLVED

THE AIM/NCOM MOTORCYCLE E-NEWS SERVICE is brought to you by Aid to Injured Motorcyclists (A.I.M.) and the National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM), and is sponsored by the Law Offices of Richard M. Lester. For more information, call us at 1-(800) ON-A-BIKE or visit us on our website at

NCOM COAST TO COAST BIKER NEWS
Compiled and Edited by BILL BISH,
National Coalition of Motorcyclists

EMISSIONS OUT OF CONTROL The National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM) is urging all concerned motorcyclists and motorcycle organizations to write to the federal Environmental Protection Agency and voice their opposition to new EPA motorcycle emissions regulations which will drastically alter the way motorcycles are built in the future by reducing allowable tailpipe emissions by more than 80%, necessitating the use of catalytic converters, fuel injection and liquid cooling.

The EPA has extended their comment period until January 7 to allow concerned motorcyclists to respond to their proposed rulemaking. You can write to the EPA at the following address:

Margaret Borushko
US EPA
National Vehicle & Fuels Emissions Laboratory
2000 Traverwood
Ann Arbor MI 48105
*Refer to: Docket A-2000-01 (Emission Control Issue)

NCOM has sent letters to nearly 2,000 motorcycle shops enrolled in their Independent Shop Program (ISP) nationwide, urging them to comment on the EPA proposed new emissions standards, as well as contact their congressional representatives and urge them to co-sponsor HR 5433, the ?Motorcycle and Motorcycling Small Business Protection Act,? introduced by U.S. Representative James Barcia of Michigan. Also known as the Barcia Act, this legislation would establish reasonable emissions standards for street motorcycles and will safeguard thousands of small businesses threatened by the EPA rulemaking.

?The Barcia Act will safeguard jobs and protect motorcycling in America, thereby reducing fuel consumption, traffic congestion and air pollution,? writes Richard Lester, Founder of NCOM.

Please contact your congressman today, because tomorrow may be too late!

UNTHINKABLE? Steve Lundwall, state director of CMT/ABATE of Tennessee, and newly elected board member for the National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM), made an excellent point in identifying misconceptions as perceived by those who think that “It’ll never happen here” during an interview with Twiggy for the December issue of Easyriders Magazine.

“As I’m out riding, I take great interest in talking with other bikers and I’ll ask questions like, ‘What do you think of the EPA’s proposal to tighten up emissions standards to the point of eliminating carburetor bikes by 2006?’ I get a blank stare. Or, ‘Did you know that your employer doesn’t have to cover your medical costs if you get hurt on your bike, even though you have insurance?’ Once again, they look at me like I’m talking in a foreign language. Maybe I’ll ask, ‘What do you think about the new End of Life legislation that already exists in two European countries and might be adopted by the European Union?’ I then have explain that End of Life legislation would prevent any car or bike older than 15 years from getting a license. Eventually, I may get a response, and typically it’s something like, ‘That’ll never happen here. That’s unthinkable.’

“The problem is that in today’s society there are no more unthinkable ideas. Sex in the Oval Office use to be unthinkable. Declaring the Pledge of Allegiance unconstitutional used to be unthinkable. A bunch of lowlife cave dwellers destroying our best know symbols of commerce and shattering our sense of security used to be unthinkable. The list could go on, and on, but yet every single one of those things have happened.

“So, why is it unthinkable that motorcycles will be outlawed? Why is it unthinkable that End of Life legislation will be passed? I get tired of people telling me that either they aren’t threatened or they can’t do anything about it. But when it comes to freedom of motorcycling, I’ll pick my fights.”

Steve’s best advice? Get involved, and join your local motorcycle rights organization.

TEXAS LAWMAKER PROPOSES TAX ON ENGINES Cars, off-road equipment and many motorboats and motorcycles would carry a $5 to $7 annual fee to raise money for air pollution-control programs under a proposed new law by Texas State Representative Warren Chisum, the House Environmental Regulation Committee chairman, who said he will file legislation that would require an environmental impact permit sticker on vehicles with a 50-horsepower engine or larger.

“What we are saying is if you have an impact on the environment, that you are going to pay an impact (fee),” Chisum, of Pampa, said after presenting the idea at a clean energy policy forum. “Granted some of you have a greater impact than others, but still everybody has an impact.”

He said he hoped the fee would raise about $188 million annually through 2007. Lawmakers are under pressure to come up with the funding, which is needed to help bring the Houston and Dallas regions into compliance with federal clean air laws.

The plans must meet Environmental Protection Agency approval. If they don’t, the state could lose hundreds of millions of dollars in federal highway money.

Lawmakers last year had approved legislation, Senate Bill 5, that would allow money to be raised through increasing the out-of-state vehicle registration fee from $1 to $225, but the fee was found to be unconstitutional.

“This is not a new tax,” Chisum said. “It’s a different mechanism for funding the same issue.”

Chisum’s plan could meet some criticism, but state money is tight. Comptroller Carole Keeton Rylander has projected the state could face a $5 billion shortfall.

PENNSYLVANIA REPEALS HANDLEBAR HEIGHT LAW “House Bill 152 was signed into law by the Governor on December 9, 2002, and it repeals the requirement that motorcycle handlebars must not be above shoulder height and adds the requirement that all bikes built after 1973 have their headlights on during the day and night,” reports Boyd Spencer, A.I.M. (Aid to Injured Motorcyclists) Attorney for Pennsylvania and New Jersey, and legal counsel for the Pennsylvania Confederation of Clubs.

HB 152 amends Section 3524 of the vehicle code, which deals with footrests, handlebars and handholds for passengers, to delete references to handlebars altogether. Previously, the law stated that “NO PERSON SHALL OPERATE ANY MOTORCYCLE WITH HANDLEBARS ABOVE SHOULDER-HEIGHT OF THE OPERATOR WHILE PROPERLY SEATED UPON THE MOTORCYCLE.”

It becomes law on February 7, 2003.

MASSACHUSETS MOTORCYCLISTS SUE CITY OVER NOISE ISSUE The Massachusetts Motorcycle Association (MMA) has announced its intentions to file a class action suit against the city of Newburyport after 230 motorcyclists were issued excessive noise citations despite the fact that only three noise complaints were filed by residents over the last three years.

After reviewing more than 1,500 pages of Police Department documents, MMA Legislative Director Paul Cote said his organization is questioning whether motorcyclists’ civil rights were violated in the city, especially considering that many of the citations were issued without sound metering equipment.

On September 19, six months after the MMA requested the documentation, state Supervisor of Public Records Alan Cote ordered the police to release the public documents. What the MMA found after analyzing reams of public “noise” documents was that “Out of the 2,321 noise complaints filed in the last year, three complaints were about motorcycles — so for me the question is, what’s all the noise about,” Cote said. “We have enough people to file a class action suit against the city and Police Department.”

Cote said that the MMA plans to bring a class action lawsuit against the city for an estimated $150,000 — the amount in damages to some of the 230 cited riders over the last three years.

Newburyport District Court Judge Peter Doyle has “stayed” all the on-going contested citations awaiting Appeals Court rulings on four cases.

The citation for excessive noise carries a $50 fine, an increased insurance premium of 7 percent for six years, and if more than three citations are issued, the loss of a license for 30 days.

Cote said he believes the city has violated the civil rights of motorcyclists — especially after Patriots Day weekend when over 50 motorcyclists were issued citations. Some motorcyclists say they were detained at roadblocks, harassed, told to “stay out of my town,” and threatened with having their motorcycles confiscated by police Inspector David Foley, who led Newburyport Police on their “Motorcycle Noise Abatement” policy of “directed patrols” this past summer.

Cote said that while only three formal complaints in regard to on-road motorcycles were made in the last three years, the number of citations against motorcyclists continues to grow. In 2000, Cote says there were three noise citations against motorcyclists, but that number grew to 40 citations in 2001, and there were 187 citations filed in 2002. “The number of citations doesn’t reflect residents’ complaints,” he said.

In response to the citations, many motorcyclists have boycotted the city. “There’s definitely an unofficial boycott of the city,” Cote said. “The economic impact to businesses in Newburyport is a $6 million loss. People aren’t coming there even in their cars.”

COP FOUND “NOT GUILTY” IN BIKER’S DEATH The former Rockford, Tennessee police officer who ran down a motorcyclist was found “Not Guilty” of vehicular homicide by a Blount County Circuit Court jury on November 25.

In September 2001, James R. Johnson was indicted by a grand jury for allegedly killing motorcyclist Philip Mickey Laton on March 10, 2001, by running the motorcyclist off the road with his patrol car. Johnson was patrolling old Knoxville Highway in the Rockford area when he received a radio report of a speeding motorcycle coming up behind him.

Johnson told investigators that he then turned on his emergency lights in order to get the rider to slow down, but the motorcyclist lost control and hit a guard rail, and then slid into the police car.

Later, a witness told police that the cruiser had swerved into the path of the approaching motorcycle, causing it to crash. A review of the videotape from the officer’s patrol car confirmed the witness’ account, and Johnson was charged in connection with Laton’s death.

But the jury took less than 30 minutes to return the not guilty verdict, apparently buying into the defense’s argument that Laton’s judgment and reactions were impaired by alcohol, although Laton’s blood-alcohol level was under the legal limit.

The Laton family has filed a $7 million civil lawsuit against Johnson, the Blount County Sheriff’s Office and the now defunct Rockford Police Department.

Due to other incidents, including another motorcyclist who suffered near-fatal injuries following a high-speed chase by another Rockford police officer along Old Knoxville Highway, and a woman who was killed when her car was hit by a Rockford police vehicle, the Rockford city commission voted to disband the city’s four-member police department during an emergency meeting on June 5, 2002.

JAPANESE BUST BIKERS BANNED BY LAW Three biker gang members face up to six months in jail or a 100,000 yen fine after earning the dubious honor of being the first people arrested under a controversial ordinance aiming to rid the Peace City of threatening motorcyclists, police told the Mainichi Shimbun newspaper on November 24.

Police said the three were arrested for violating a Hiroshima Municipal Government ordinance banning biker gang members from assembling in the public areas throughout the city.

“Long plagued by violence from biker gangs, Hiroshima’s contentious ordinance was enacted in April. It forbids biker gangs from assembling in public areas throughout the city, but requires authorities to issue at least three warnings to break up before arrests can be made,” the newspaper reported.

Police told the newspaper that one adult and two teenagers were wearing the uniforms of a biker gang when they assembled with about 60 other bikers in a Hiroshima park on Saturday night. Officers arrived and ordered the bikers to go away, but three of them refused to do so. After standing their ground through another two warnings, they were arrested.

WEIRD NEWS OF THE MONTH: BEER ‘N DEER According to the Darwin Awards, which honors those who have made the supreme sacrifice in cleansing the gene pool, an EMT in southern Georgia was part of a unit that responded to a call from Coffee County late one night in June 2002. They arrived on the scene and found a severely injured man lying at the edge of a field. His stomach had been completely torn open, and he was covered with lacerations and bruises. He also had a prominent tire tread across his chest. The injured man’s companion showed up in a racing model ATV, clearly intoxicated, and gave the following account.

He and his injured friend had been drinkin’ and ridin’ around the field on the three-wheeled ATV, when they sighted a stand of deer in their headlights. The friend, riding the back as a passenger, was struck with a great idea. “Hey man,” he said, “If you quarter off one a those deer, betcha I can bulldog ‘im.” The driver thought this was an entertaining idea, so he proceeded to isolate a buck and race him down. His intoxicated passenger proceeded to leap from the ATV, grab the buck by the antlers, and perform an excellent example of this rodeo sport. He pinned the animal’s head to the ground, but that’s when things went wrong. The buck, less docile than a steer, simply got up, threw his head back, and tore his assailant’s belly open. The deer then proceeded to stomp, kick, and butt him for good measure.

The EMTs noticed that this information accounted for all of the injuries except one. When they asked the driver about the tire track across his injured friend’s chest, he responded: “Well how else was I s’posed to git the deer off ‘im?”

GOOD SAMARITANS CAPTURE HIT-AND-RUN DRIVERS Two young Southern California men were following behind a Harley-Davidson in the city of Brea when a Ford Expedition made a sudden left in front of the motorcycle, clipping the rider’s right leg.

Shaun Linder and Matthew Newcomb pulled over to help the injured motorcyclist while the SUV sat nearby. Charles Kenney, the biker, was holding his leg, crying and screaming for help.

Linder carried Kenney to his car and drove him a short distance to Brea Community Hospital. He was returning to the scene when Newcomb, who had stayed with the motorcycle, motioned to him and yelled that the Expedition had driven off.

Newcomb jumped into Linder’s car, and they drove down several streets, searching for the SUV. They had just about given up when they spotted the red Expedition and Linder said he tried to make a citizen’s arrest.

Linder said he reached speeds of 80 mph as he followed the SUV to an industrial park, where the Expedition pulled into a parking space.

Newcomb hopped out of the car and approached the SUV, holding a Global-Positioning System against his ear. A couple was sitting in the front seat, while three little girls and their grandmother peered at him from the rear seat. “I told them I was on the phone with police and that they were coming,” Newcomb said. “Then they backed into me.”

Newcomb said he fell to the ground and got up only to have the vehicle reposition and ram into him again. His body hurtled onto the vehicle’s hood, and he grabbed a windshield wiper. Linder pulled his car in front of the SUV, blocking it in.

Luckily, another witness had called police, who arrived about 5 p.m., 11 minutes after the collision.

Patricia Summers, 39, was arrested on suspicion of felony hit-and-run and felony driving under the influence. Bradley Summers, 40, was arrested on suspicion of assault with a deadly weapon and DUI. The couple’s three daughters, ages 6, 9, and 11, were released to relatives.

Police believe that Patricia Summers was driving drunk when she slammed into the motorcyclist, and suspect that she later switched seats with her husband.

Kenney suffered fractures to his right leg, right elbow and pelvis.

“They’re my heroes really,” he said of Linder and Newcomb. “Without them, I wouldn’t have anything to go on, no case at all.”

Newcomb, 25, attends Fullerton College. Linder just finished up at the community college and plans to transfer to California State University, Fullerton.

Linder considers lending a helping hand a citizen’s responsibility. “If that happened to me, I would want people to do the same thing,” he told the Orange County Register. “It was the right thing to do.”

ABATE of California plans to reward the dynamic duo with a “Good Samaritan Award” for their act of heroism.

QUOTABLE QUOTES: “One man with courage makes a majority.”ANDREW JACKSON, “Old Hickory”
(1767-1845) 7th U.S. President and Military Hero of the War of 1812

THE AIM/NCOM MOTORCYCLE E-NEWS SERVICE is brought to you by Aid to Injured Motorcyclists(AIM) and the National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM), and is sponsored by the LawOffices of Richard M. Lester. For more information, call us at (800) ON-A-BIKE, or visitus on the web at .

From The GUNNY’S SACK

A New Year Is Upon Us Again. And WOW! We got through another, and our accomplishmentsabound around the country. The motorcycle community is closer together now than it everhas been. The National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM) has grown along with theConfederations of Clubs across the country. The various State organizations are growingin most areas, and we ARE coming together. We still have a huge fight on our hands,especially in this current political climate, but it was refreshing for me to see theresponse of our motorcycle world at the polls this year.

Our people are also waking up to the fact that we should NOT drink and ride. The statsI’ve seen show about a ten percent drop in alcohol-related accidents. Unfortunately, thestats also say there seems to be an increase in motorcycle accidents involving those ofus over forty years young. Do we need to take some riding courses and sharpen ourselvesup? Rider training is a positive thing for ALL of us on scoots. You young peoplewouldn’t hurt yourselves by taking a course either. It just makes good sense. I knowyou’re all experts because you’ve told me so, but a little training doesn’t hurt. It’scheaper than chrome and doesn’t get dull with wear, it gets BETTER instead.

GUNNY’S NEW RIDE: As some of you know, I bought a new Gold Wing in October. Sue and Iplan to do some touring soon so I thought we’d get ready. This new bike is completelydifferent than any other scoot I’ve ever owned. It takes some time to get used to thedifferences in handling, the way it feels sitting on it, radial tires, and the brakingsystem. The thing even has a reverse gear for help in backing away from that curb thatdrops away from you. There is cruise control and Oh My God! TUNES on the radio and evena CB and intercom so the better half can talk to me instead of scream at me.

All this newfangled stuff means I need to train myself to ride this bike safely. Whenever we don’t ride for awhile (as in the winter) or get new rides, it means we needto tune ourselves up and re-learn or wake up our sleeping sensitivities to our rides. Asmachines get older or are replaced, we find little things new or things we forgot thatneed to be kept in mind for that terrifying moment when we need to avoid some dipstickwho’s trying to kill us!

This scoot is SO much fun, I’m riding more than I did on the old one, even if it iswinter here in central Oregon. The cold also brings it’s little foibles, such ashypothermia and dehydration. Both these critters can get you in serious trouble so youneed to be aware. Be sure you layer clothing and take care to stay warm. Drink lots ofWATER. Notice it wasn’t spelled B-E-E-R. If you start to get chilled, stop and have acup of coffee or soup in a warm place. You can tell if you are starting to gethypothermic if it’s hard to keep your mind on what you’re doing, and usually you’vestarted shivering some. This is a dangerous place to be, so get yourself warmed upquick, ?cuz it’s a killer.

I’m taking good care of myself this winter…How about you? I have my electric clothingand I carry water in the saddle bags.

NEWS BITS’N PIECES:

MIAMI: The idea of using motorcycles to respond to emergency situations is spreading likewildfire. The firefighters of Miami-Dade county in Florida are proposing their use inthat area, for their EMT’s. The feeling is that quicker response will save lives bygetting much faster response, since a scoot can scoot through the usual traffic gridlockof accidents, especially on freeways.

ELECTRIC SCOOTS: For a measly $99.00, I saw on the ?net that you can now buy your kids a10 mph electric scooter. Just plug it in and charge it up. The kids can ride for about8 miles. It’s got a 100-watt motor and takes 3 to 4 hours to charge it up. Hells Bells,I’d even enjoy one!

TORONTO: Early December the motorcycle show here introduced some motorcycles never beforeseen by our northern neighbors. Aprilia and Benelli made their debut in this country. The 1000 cc Caponord is the Italian company’s first motorcycle to be sold in Canada. This tourer will give Suzuki’s V-Strom a run for it’s money. Benelli’s 900cc Tornado isa hot one with 140 hp. This with many other makes and models made this the motorcycle”show of shows” for Canada this year.

PICKERINGTON, OHIO: If you’ve never been to the Motorcycle Hall of Fame Museum, this yearwould be a good one to make the trip. Progressive Motorcycle Insurance Company plans the”Heroes of Harley Davidson” Exhibit, opening in 2003 to coincide with Harley’s bigbirthday celebration. This will show us a century of growth in Harley-Davidson from agarage shack in the back yard to the sprawling industry it is today, employing thousandsof our people across the country, and giving thousands others of us the pleasure ofreliable motoring enjoyment.

YOU ARE A SUSPECT!.. We already have the US PATRIOT Act to contend with, and now there isa new even more invasive threat on the horizon. It’s called the Homeland Security Act,or as our Oregon A.I.M. (Aid to Injured Motorcyclists) Attorney Sam Hochberg prefers tocall it, the FATHERLAND (as in the Third Reich) Security Act. And if this JohnPoindexter, who is a convicted felon, a Doctor of Physics, and former National Securityadvisor to President Reagan, gets the power he wants with this bill, we as citizens arein about the same place Poland and Hungary were at the beginning of the Second World War!

Our government will have the power to monitor everything every person does in his or herpublic life. He will know more about you than your mother does! Every credit cardpurchase, prescription filled, what magazines you subscribe to, your speeding tickets,and your drivers license number and expiration date, marriage and divorce records,whether you rent or own and almost the color of your socks on Monday morning. We will infact live in a POLICE STATE. Even those new outdoor police cameras will be connected toface-scanners, eventually, to have a little dossier on everyone. He will have the dreamof what they’re calling “Total Information Awareness” (or TIA) on every person in thiscountry. And don’t kid yourself, he WILL USE IT to make himself the most powerful man onearth.

This convict heads the “Information Awareness Office” in our Defense Advanced ResearchProjects Agency, the people responsible for starting the Internet and stealth aircraft,and their official motto is “Knowledge is Power.” The disgraced Navy Admiral has beengiven $200 million of our tax dollars to create dossiers on every one of our people. Just how do you think he will treat Motorcycle Clubs and Associations? We had better bewriting our Congressmen and Senators about how we feel about this monumental intrusioninto our lives. Now I KNOW there’s good reason these days to monitor SOME folks whomight be a 9/11 level of threat; but you can FIND those folks, as I see it, withouthaving to snoop on every American, reason or not.

All this is news printed in the New York Times, The Washington Post, and other largenewspapers all over the country. This is a terrible threat to Freedom in this countryand we need to keep a wary weather eye on this very powerful man and on the proposedlaws. He has no more regard for our freedom than the man on the moon. And we need tospread the word to those that are not so aware.

I don’t know about you but this all scares the skivvies off me, and I gotta tell ya THATain’t a purty sight.

REMINDER: The good people at the Aid to Injured Motorcyclists (A.I.M.) Program are inplace for our protection from unscrupulous insurance adjusters and companies. And SamHochberg asked me to remind you that if you are in a wreck and the adjuster soundspleasant and you’re comfortable dealing with that adjuster, then you’re probably REALLYready to get reamed! If an adjuster calls you, Sam’s motto is “Just say NO; but THENcall a lawyer!” If you get in a bind, call your nearest A.I.M. Attorney or use theA.I.M. 24-Hour Hotline: 1-800-531-2424 (or 1-800-ON-A-BIKE, or online:www.ON-A-BIKE.com), and these guys will take good care of you. They are riders and arevery aware of the world we live in on the highway. Sam’s office here in Oregon can alsobe reached at 503-224-1106 or 1-800-347-1106 toll free. He’s online atSamBikeLaw@aol.comKeep the round side on the bottom.
Gunny, Oregon A.I.M. Chief Of Staff

BIKERNET NEWS FLASH–NEW RAMPS, OZARK LOVE, NEW MUSEUM AND SPECIAL TOY RUN

Continued From Page 2

BIKETOW FOR TRAILERLESS TRAILERING–Every now and then something comes along that really does work. I think this is one of those times. Our product “BIKETOW” will allow you to tow your motorcycles without using a trailer. Just think you will not have to go and hook up a trailer to pick up a motorcycle.

BIKETOW is simple to use and easy to store, fits any 2″ class (3) receiver. Built sturdy, tow your motorcycle any where, no trailer to park or store when you get to where you are going. Now you can tow your motorcycle with the family car. You do not have to own a truck. BIKETOW has a lifetime limited warranty. Six years of R&D.Please add this to your “NEW PRODUCT” section of your publication. Thank you for your time.

Please call or email me with any questions.
602-725-6325 805-895-9246
purvisenterprises@msn.com www.biketow.com

This product was official sanctioned by Jose.

Remember the ascerbic Flynch from HORSE’s early days. He wrote hard and fast, but was capable of beautiful children.

EXCEPTIONAL CHILDRENS FOUNDATION REPORT, A BIKERNET CHARITY–Greetings…Tiny Brower and his friends have organized a toy drive for the toddlers at ECF’s Early Start program in Arleta (at Terra Bella and Canterbury). Knowing there are tons of toy runs, anything you, you family and friends can do to help our kids is truly appreciated.

We need educational toys (new and unwrapped) rather than stuffed toys. Playdoh, sketch and coloring books, building blocks, etc…all these help with the kids’ development. Micah’s shop, Micah McCloskey’s Custom Motorcycles is one of the drop-off points and the ECF-Arleta Toy Drive box will be there until Saturday 12/14. Thanks so much for sharing and caring.

Carmela Anne Burke, MPA
Director of Development and Communications
(310) 845-8060

HARLEY HISTORY IN PICKERINGTON– Wednesday December 4, 2002, The Motorcycle Hall of Fame Museum, located on thecampus of the American Motorcyclist Association (AMA) in Pickerington, Ohio, hasannounced plans for “Heroes of Harley-Davidson, presented by Progressive Motorcycle Insurance,” anexpansive new exhibit scheduled to run from February 2003 to December 2004.

The 8,100 sq. ft. installation, the largest ever inthe museum’s 12-year history, will chronicle a century of Harley-Davidson people, personalities andproducts that transformed the company into a billion-dollar success story. Twenty-two exhibitareas are scheduled to include displays of the bikes, photographs, biographies, and rare artifacts thattrace the company from its1903 backyard shed to its Buell XB9R.

To celebrate the opening of the exhibit, theMotorcycle Hall of Fame is planning a number of special events and activities, including an exclusivecharity preview to be held on March 4, 2003, during Daytona Bike Week. For more information regarding the exhibit or theMotorcycle Hall of Fame Museum, call (614) 856-2222, or visit the Museum’s Web site atwww.motorcyclemuseum.org .

–from Buzz Buzzelli, editorAMERICAN RIDER

LITTLE SOMETHING FROM MA AND PA–Ma and Pa are sitting on the front porch swing, rocking.Pa says to Ma, “Screw you, Ma.”

A minute goes by, and Ma says to Pa, “Screw you, Pa.”

Again, a minute goes by, and Pa says to Ma, “Screw you, Ma.”

Another minute goes by, and Ma says to Pa, “Screw you, Pa.”

Yet another minute goes by, and Pa says to Ma, “Screw you, Ma.”

A minute later, Ma says to Pa, “Screw you, Pa.”

A couple of minutes go by, and Pa says to Ma, “I don’t know about you, Ma,but I just don’t get too much out of this oral sex stuff!”

–from Rogue

INTERNATIONAL SUPERMOTARD RACE PLANNED FOR 2003 LOS ANGLES CALENDAR MOTORCYCLE SHOW WEEKEND–Dec 9th: FastDates.com and Corona Extra Suzuki were excited to announcethis past weekend at the Cycle World International Show in Long Beachtheir plans to feature an International caliber SuperMotard race weekendin conjunction with the Los Angeles Calendar Motorcycle Show on July19-20th, 2003 at the Queen Mary Event Park in Long BeachOn display in the large FastDates.com Calendar feature exhibit at theCycle World Show with top calendar bikes and the beautiful calendarmodels was the new FastDates.com sponsored Corona Extra Suzuki DR400supermotard bike which former AMA National Motocross Champion JeanMichelle Bayle will possibly be racing at selected international eventsin 2003, including the Los Angeles Calendar Motorcycle Show weekend.Bayle was in Los Angeles this past weekend to test and set up the bikewith the Corona Extra team at the Streets of Willow Springs Raceway,where on the asphalt road course Bayle was turning laps times on theroadrace tire equipped 400c single cylinder dirt bike that bested thosebeing turned by a pro licensed racer on a latest 600cc Supersport bike.

Why do men break wind more than women? Because women can’t shut up long enough to build up the required pressure.

–from Rogue

BIKERNET OZARK REPORT–Thought I’d bring you up to date on shit out here. It’s been sorta boring with the cold weather and all but there’s been a few riding days. My bike hasn’t been charging, and I finally found that the stator plug had melted rubber, breaking the connection. That new battery was a waste, as was the time to replace the regulator. It was a used one that I had around the shop. Glad I saved it and the one I just took off.

Bald headed Patrick bought a new independence hardtail bike and there was a toy run this Saturday. I don’t like riding in those amateur parades but he talked me into it. I knew big tall Roger, Titty bar Mike, and Phillip would be there so I agreed. It was lining up at Rodneys shop so I knew Skitzo would be there. Well, Bald headed Patrick came over about 10 a.m. and my kid’s husband showed up. We rode over to the shop and when I got there, there was 8 miles of bikes. I knew a lot of the people there but I was hung over and I went in the back office of Rodneys to hide.

I drank a few beers and started to feel better. About the time I was really feeling good, Juvee girl shows up. I’ve been dodging her and I haven’t seen her in a week or two. My girl wasn’t with me and because Phillip’s girl works at Rodneys, she came in the back to hide too. She didn’t know I was there. She was just avoiding all the hard dicks that were trying to get her to ride with them. She looked great with that hair all done and dressed to kill. I forgot just how cute she is. She had been wearing only wash and wear with me, because she knew I was gonna mess her up anyway. No makeup and shit like that. Anyway, when I saw her, I started to remember how much fun we had together, and I asked her to ride with me. We waited for the parade to go ahead, and then we left. I stopped at the liquor store and got her a bottle of that vanilla vodka she loves. Then we went to the park where they were collecting toys.

Everyone I know saw her on my bike and they were saying shit about it. I was planning to go to the after party with my girl, but I knew that if I showed up with her everyone would bust me out with the juvenile. I told my girl that I was sick from the bar-b-q and didn’t feel like going out at all. She was pissed but I had to keep her away.

Titty bar Mike called me Sunday and gave me shit and told me everyone at his bar was talking about me and juvee girl. I now have to find each and every one and threaten them about saying something to my girl. I have had two public incidents with that girl and my girl is losing her understanding nature with regards to her. It will be extremely ugly if she finds this out. I called the juvenile this morning, and she said she was at Miss Kitty’s Saturday night and everyone gave her shit about me. If I had been there, my girl would have beat her ass then turned on me. I can’t afford that. don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I wouldn’t want two fine bitches fighting over me at the titty bar. That would be fun ,and I would be the man for years to come with the bros, but my girl is a horrible bitch. It would not be worth it. I need my girl to be happy. I can’t afford to move so I’m stuck with whatever shit she would throw at me. How long would winter be then, stuck in the house with a mean bitch that’s pissed? I’ll be kissing her ass for a week or two just in case she finds out. I told her yesterday that I just wanted to be with her, and let’s turn off the phone and hide from the world. She loved the idea and we hid in the back of the house and didn’t answer the phone. She felt special and I felt safe, at least for yesterday.

I sure wish I had a big brain. I would try to use it for something productive.

–Ozark Ed

Even guys with enormous brains are lured to another woman from time to time. It’s natural, but an explosion if the other woman ever finds out. Life is strange.

TRUE STORY–An American teenager was in the hospital yesterday recovering from serious head wounds received from an oncoming train. When asked how he received the injuries, the lad told police that he was simply trying to see how close he could get his head to a moving train before he was hit.

–from CarlR

READY RAMPS FOR LOADING BIKES–Also included is one picture of what not to do when loading a Harleyonto a truck. Although it’s strong enough for H-D’s, big bikes needmore than one person to load and unload, and it should be handled where theramp can be as flat as possible. I unloaded a full dresser at Daytonaonce by backing up to a grocery store loading dock–whatever it takes tokeep it safe.

Cord Bauer
ReadyRamp

Q: What do you say to a sorority girl that won’t give in?
A: “Have another beer.”

–from Rogue

PACK ‘EM IN–Let’s curl up by a fire and warm our sorry asses. I’ve given Jose’s writing some thought. It’s reminiscent of lots of HORSE writings from the past. I’ve been pondering whether I would walk the splintered plank, winch myself out on a limb and slam the soap box with my own thoughts. Ah bullshit, who need ’em?

I’m an all-consumed romantic. I don’t give a hot tostada who rides what, with whom for how long. Some complain about newbies, with their new rides and new sense of authority in a sport they’ve only enjoyed for a year or less. I use to ride with people who fucked-up or stabbed anyone got in their way. Which would you perfer to run into at the local bar?

I have a fear, though, that involves us all, newbie or old school. In 22 years there will be 63 million more folks in the US (there’s 288 million now). There will be 30 million new stucco homes built and at the rate were going we’re losing 2 million acreas of land a year. I could see the growth, the looming franchise stores and fast food joints as I rode through Arizona recently. It’s already treacherous to ride across town. I hate the thought of iron cages crowed all the way to Phoenix. Hang on.

Ride Forever,

Bandit

BIKERNET NEWS FLASH–NEW PARTS, NEW CHARITY, BURGER KING BUST AND JOSE

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BIKERNET CARIBBEAN REPORT– Ladies and Gentlemen after last weeks standing ovation and well wishers, I realized my sucky life had a big void. I decided to mend my ways. It’s no fun living in the past, it’s all a recollection of bad TV shows in black and white, of shitty bikes that leak oil in my new marble floors, of not fitting in with the ” in” crowd. Man how could I not be another sheep in the herd of followers. I had to live in the ” right” side.

This has been a pretty hectic week, I sold two of my old (aka Shitty) bikes to a couple of clueless hard core bikers.

I still don’t know what they were so happy about… Got the money and headed straight to my local worship place …I mean to my local dealer, there the epiphany took place, that new Twinkie 100th Anniversary Deuce called my name, ” She will be mine, oh yeah, she will be mine.” I felt like the luckiest dude in the World, some fool had just backed up (not enough credit, what a loser !) and the Deuce was available. After a few grand over twenty she was my baby now. I was directed to the accessory and apparel section. I grabbed every chrome H-D approved goody I could find. The dealer said they would install it right there, not to worry about getting my button down shirt sweaty. After that I bought the coolest fringe leather jacket, matching chaps, and an assortment of T-shirts. They were so nice they even gave me a really cool helmet, silver and black, kind of the one Gazoo used in the Flinstones, but I was assured it would protect my most precious commodity (aha, my brain).

I went back on the weekend to pick up my new ride, and the dealer was nice enough to show me how it worked, how to gas it up and check the odometer so I could bring it back at exactly 1,500 miles for the first check up and oil change. With that I took off into the sunset, being very careful not to over rev it or scratch my new boots with orange soles. That same day they gave me a really nice black and gold card with my name on it, I was a HOG member….Fudge yeah !

So I decided to take Sunday and ride with my fellow hoggers, it was a really nice day, but the weather said it would drop to 81 degrees so I took the jacket and chaps. That babe, the Deuce was shinning like mother of pearl in the morning sun, did I mention that the dealer also installed a set of drag pipes? He promised not to void the warranty, as long as they installed them they were a bit more money than some of those ( God forbid !) after market catalog pipes, but they had the company stamp and that makes them much better. So I took off on my way to Something Cafe, the meeting place of choice. It was great to share stories of stocks and bonds, how to accessorize, and learning so much from the ” experts” who had bought the bikes months before me. Everyone complimented my choice of parts (since they had exactly the same ones) and talked to me about the value of a 100 anniversary bike which only 300 thousand other lucky “bikers” had.

With this super welcome we decided to take a ride, that was a good idea since the mochachinos, cafe lattes, Evian water and Mimosa were getting to my bladder. I found out later that we did not leave earlier because the security orange vests had not arrived, but that would never be a con in such a wonderful week. After listening to the very important briefing, those guys are really prepared. They told us how many stops, miles, which roads, the average speed and even the position we should ride…Wow ! I’ve never felt so safe, they even made up a signal so we could stop and get into our company rain suits, just in case, although that was my first faux pas, in the excitement of purchasing my new bike I had forgotten to buy the rain suit…Oh well, all I could do was hope for no surprises. We even had a group laugh at a couple of ignorant bikers on a couple of choppers going well over the speed limit….I laughed ’till my tummy ached and my eagle fake tattoo flaked….

The ride was such an exhilarating experience, we rolled thru the Emerald mountains on our metal steeds. We enjoyed the pristine azure waters of the Caribbean and had excellent gourmet food in a very classy restaurant, the group bonded magnificently, security was superb, and everyone had so much fun with their drag pipes and horned helmets. It was so cool, everyone looked like Marlon Brando on the Wild Ones, leather, vests, etc.. I also noticed that the guys who were at the lead, the veterans, had lots of pins attached to their vests. Can’t wait to participate for a full year so I can be part of them.

Up to now it was the best day of my riding career. On a sour note, one of the bikes ran out of gas ( I learned that the guy was not paying attention to the gas thingy) and someone called a Flat Bed to take it back to the dealer for repairs ( The experts assumed it was gas since Twinkies never break down !).

All in all it was a wonderful day. I made so many new friends, learned so much and even got invited to rent a bike in Orlando and head to Daytona so we could cruise Main Street. I tell you, those 50 miles were the most fun I’ve ever had without wearing a suit! On the way back home I was humming Born to be Wild, feeling the breeze and looking at my leathered reflection in every car and store window, man did I look freaking bad! I noticed that my gas was running low, then it hit me, there are no “Company” gas stations , what the heck should I do ?? I had my first experience in what they (the veterans) call mechanical ability. I pulled over, got my cell phone and called friends…lucky for me they lead me in the right direction…a full service station…

To shorten things up, I’m so into it that the shop is for sale, I ‘ve decided to become a Stock Broker, or something like that. I’m also proposing to my half orange, plan on having 2.5 kids and buying an H-D Ford truck… soon.

See, I am a totally changed man… Got to thank Willy G., God and our readers for directing me into the correct path.

Then I woke up with sweat running down my spine, chills all over my fucking body…Man that was the nastiest nightmare I’ve ever had….So let’s go to the news:

Biker Spot, the magazine from Puerto Rico will have their first event this coming Sunday 15th in Caguas. Yep we will show up en masse, choppers and all, We are taking time off our super busy schedules to do that, so it better be worth it….Or there’s going to be trouble…

The second of our Caribbean Custom frames is in the shop, we tore right into it since it will be one of the bikes to go to Daytona with us…. I’ll post full photos of the progress and build of all these new bikes, but we will hold for some time so our local “pseudo” competitors won’t be able to copy our ideas…

The guys from Twisted Choppers are doing an awesome , kick ass job. They got my gas tank Monday and as I write this it’s already on the way to PR…Thanks guys… Check the tank mods article at The Horse soon, also see their new website at www.TwistedChoppers.com

Our Road King project is almost done, we had problems with the spokes and it turned out that they were mislabeled, wholly mother fuck! So we are doing the red UPS tango to get the thing rolling. I’ll post some photos next week..I’m dreading the day I’ll have to test ride it….

The interview with the Discovery Motorcycle Women will be up soon, still waiting for some photos….It’s worth the wait, this girls rock !

The Horse #29 is already out, pretty cool stuff and the Horse Maidens (babes) keep getting better…Check it out !

And now my weekly report card…My fucking motor is still missing at sea…I smell a fucking bamboozle…The rear wheel is being spoked and trued as you read, thanks to Choppers Inc. My rear fender should be on the way from Cali, good that I know Jesse and got the stuff ultra quick…..

Things are looking much better…Again, I can’t thank all these guys enough…. As you might imagine it’s a fucking Zoo….let’s see if I live to see all this go thru.

And last but not least, thanks to all that post on my behalf, and enjoy my weekly articles. I really appreciate all the comments, even the negative ones… Speaking of such, I also want to thank the ones who hate my stuff. They give me material to rant about later on.One lesson to be learned..Conformity is the root for mediocrity and creative retardation.

Happy Holidays to all….

Jose Caribbean (warm, sunny and 81 degrees).

OFFICIAL DAYTONA BIKE WEEK SITE–Yep, here it is for anyone interested in the lasted news, accomodations, and events leading up to the main event: http://www.officialbikeweek.com/bwhome.html .

–Rogue

BIKERNET DRIVE THRU INVESTIGATION–MUNDELEIN, Ill. – At one Illinois Burger King, authorities say, you couldorder a Whopper, fries and some coke. Not a soft drink but cocaine.

Four people have been jailed on charges they sold cocaine from thedrive-thru window at a Burger King in Mundelein.

Police had been watching the restaurant for nine months. Then on Fridaynight, they said, they bought about $300,000 dollars worth of cocaine fromthe night manager, his wife and two former employees.

Authorities said customers would either phone ahead or ask for particularemployees. Then they would drive up, place their orders over the microphoneand pull around the window to pick it up. The drugs were handed over in aBurger King paper bag.

–from Rogue

HELEN’S HAMSTER REPORT–Here’s some pictures I took of one of Arlen Ness’ first bikes, a ’59 panhead. The people who have owned it for about 6 years, Smokie and Diane Gabel of Milton, WA, ride it to Taco Thursdays and all around the area. It was sold from Arlen’s collection in 1978. Since there’s been a lotta discussion about ’55 panheads and riding at 50 mph, etc., I thought you might like a shot of this old bike.

By the way, how stupid am I? Just spoke to Mailman and he told me that is a Sportster, not a Panhead in those pictures I e-mailed you. Well fuckin’ duh. Jigs up, I just look at the pretty colors. I’m as dumb as a rock about old bikes.

–Helen

NEW FROM AEROMACH–7″ inch ?Chopper Risers? for Harley?s
Looking for risers that have attitude? Now you can choose your own style of caps to go with them. We designed these risers to bolt right on to your triple trees using your stock ?? 13 bolts. They work extremely well with 18, 25 & 35 degree drag bars in 1 inch diameter.

Longer control (clutch and brake) cables may be needed depending on the drag bar you select. Installation is simple and the cap conceals the top bolts. The 7″ risers are chrome plated and made from extruded billet aluminum.Choose between ?Dome? or the new radical ?Tribal?.

AM-3800C $129.95 Pair
For more information call 800 -990-9392 and tell them Bikernet sent you!
www.aeromachmfg.com

BIKERNET FRESNO, CALIFORNIA EDITION–From now until Dec 21, 2002, Road Rage Performance is collecting donations of used clothing for the Povarello House and Craycroft Foundation in Fresno. On Dec 21, 2002 we would like to invite the entire central valley motorcycling community to join us at the shop to deliver the donated clothing directly to the people who need it most. Meet at the shop at 11am, for light refreshments and then head out at high noon – rain or shine. More info and directions to the shop at www.roadrageperformance.com.

OOPS!, I forgot to mention that we are calling it “Choppers for Charity”…If Buckshot is otherwise engaged, I’ll take pics and write a story on the event for submission to Bikernet….

Thanks,
GFH

Road Rage Performance
4566 e. Pine st.
Fresno Ca 93703
559.252.1700

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