Mantis
By Robin Technologies |
Lean, stretched, and filigree, is the design of the long smooth-lined bike called “Mantis”. Fine bowed tubes, no hoses or fairings, no bad looking details to be covered or hidden. The drop-styled tank hangs beneath the spinal looking upper tube like a body part; organic and physically fitting. And the body parts of model Sam match perfectly…
Clean and visible from all angles, the technical details are fine planned and overwhelmingly beautiful placed inside the wriggled tubes. Point out what you want, you might find a really convincing solution.
To start with, the frame is custom built by the makers of this unique bike, the German company “Independent Choppers” from Düsseldorf, the states capitol. Frank Sander, head honcho of that bike-garage, states, “The aim was to build a bike that is capable of rolling lots of miles while looking as if it almost couldn't.
This bike was designed with the appearance of a trailer- queen, but with the attitude of miles to solve. At first we planned on a tricky air ride, but the swing we designed at first was much too heavy and bold to fit into this picture. So we refused to build a soft ass scoot and came up with a completely new designed frame.”
And they did very well with that.
The single downtube flows into three further tubes that hold the motor, the foot controls and at the rear end they guide the wheel. Just a triangled middle-mount looks out of the tank to hold the cylinders. A custom cover hides the ignition coils and flatters the eyes.
Everything is either smooth without edges or diamond-shaped. And everything looks precious and valuable.
The seating position of the pilot is the most discussed thing when people see this chopper. And let me tell you – as being 6.3″ tall myself – I experienced it as being very comfortable. I can sit straight up, the arms below shoulder level, the head up, and comfortably expecting the adventures to come along. Almost like sitting in a huge car, nothing bent or bowed to make it uncomfortable or stressing. And Frank built this bike for himself. Being about my height he really will do fine on tour out in the country.
The engine is a RevTech 88 and breathes through a Mikuni HSR 42, free and not filtered at all. While driving through bad air-conditions, there will be filters attached, made by “Pistor”. The manifolds are custom made and asbestos-wrapped for a mean and little vintage style.
As a transmission, Frank chose a right-side-drive to gain a balanced and different look, being able to let the pipes' ends look out on the left side; a very unique but fine solution. The high front end comes from SJP, the triple tree clamps are custom modified Pro-One-models, and the handlebar-halves are attached in a very tricky way. They sit beneath the upper clamp and so they are in the best position to grab them in a perfect ergonomically correct way- if you're tall enough. And, hey, it looks great!
The wheels are PM-“Gatlin”-rims and look almost as if they were made for this concept only. The sophisticated color was designed by well known master-artist, Wild Air Hörby. The color choice underlines the valuable design and follows the lines and the presentation.
All cables and wires are hidden in the frame.
Luckily our pro-model Sam didn't hide anything.
Her all natural body parts as well show lines we all dream of (And those who don't need to be checked out for a therapy).
She loves to play the erotic goddess and matches perfectly with the bike.
Both are erotic and exotic dreams, descended from the throne of late night biker wishes to materialize in front of us.
Enjoy the moment and take care. Dreams only sometimes come true. We had them at our studio, sorry that you couldn't join in that day….
Bandit's Cantina Happy HourTech Sheet
Make and Year: Independent Choppers (IC), Düsseldorf, Germany
Builder: Frank Sander, owner
Engine: Rev Tech 88 cui, year 2002
Carb: Mikuni HSR 42, open, no filters, sometimes some of brand “Pistor”
Exhaust: manifolds custom IC, pipes Kodlin
Transmission: Zodiac Right Side Drive
Primary Drive: chain
Secondary drive: belt
Frame: Independent “Deep”, rake 43°
Frontend: SJP tubes in modified Pro One clamps including IC- stabilizer
Wheels: front PM Gatlin 2,15 x 21 with 90/90-21 Metzeler
rear PM Gatlin 10,5 x 18 with 280/35-18 Metzeler
Brakes: front and rear PM, on the rear the “Driveside”-model gastank, oiltank, fenders, handlebar everything and much more IC footcontrols PM/NYC
colour and design: Wild Air Hörby, colour and beatgold, 8 and more, layers of clear varnish
Links:
author and photography: www.wikinger.com
bike builders: www.independent-choppers.de
colour and design: www.wildairhoerby.de (flash-site, cool!)
Model: Samira, to be found on the wikinger.com – website
Colorado Girl Of Bikernet
By Robin Technologies |
Geoff Giles of G-Spot Customs located in Denver Colorado, has always looked up to Evel Knievel, and this bike is his second foray into a custom bike paying homage to his hero. The first bike Geoff did was the Evel G-Bob, which was GOB’s first feature, was a bike widely recognized as cutting edge at the time for the pairing of a big twin motorcycle with dirt bike components. This new bike was supposed to be something similar to the first one, but in Sporty form. Geoff had picked up a ‘98 Sporty from a pawn-shop and was just waiting for the right opportunity to get creative with it. He originally wanted it to be a bobber similar to his first Knievel tribute bike, and then the bobber craze hit and he decided to do something else with it. He received the Paughco frame he ordered, his platform for the bobbed Sporty, and began cutting, de-raking the neck so that it had a more aggressive, supermoto feel to it. He had finally found the right way to utilize the Sporty.
Geoff’s background was in racing, and his power-sports career began with motocross. He quickly learned he was good, but not good enough to be really competitive on the professional MX circuit. He got the idea to road race and raced all over the country as privateer pro in the 600 class during the early 90’s. While he was doing this it became apparent he was going to need to be able to fix his own equipment and fabricate anything that could save him money. He learned his fabrication and mechanic abilities out of necessity and put his work to the test. He was always working on ways to save weight and make bikes stop better and go faster, and has applied this philosophy to all the bikes he has built, whether they are race bikes or bikes for customers. Geoff has gotten a considerable amount of recognition for his ability to cut through the fluff of custom bikes and get down to business with functional, agile, stripped- down V-twins.
The Evel Sporty was going to be along the same lines as several other bikes he had built, but was going to have the super-moto theme and be married to a Sporty drive train. The only piece of the original Sportster he used was the power plant; everything else got sold or turned into something else. Geoff decided that the motor was going to need to be rebuilt, so he tore into it had Maynard Mills of Flowdyne port the heads, installed Andrews cams, and married it to a Mikuni 42-mm carb with a Goodson Aircleaner. Now that the go-fast part of the build was handled, he looked to the motocross industry to figure out how to save weight and make it stop well. He really liked the way the CR450 looked and knew they were very light. He found an Ohlins front end off a CR450, Billet trees courtesy of LSE Racing and made a stem to fit the Paughco neck bearings. He then found a set of 17” Excel rims off another CR450. These two things, along with super-light, billet aluminum Brembo calipers front and rear mated to light weight rotors, save a ton of weight and make this bike a very quick stopper. He used motocross and superbike hand controls and Renthal handlebars to keep the bike compact and no-nonsense. The gas tank was a Salinas Boys tank that he got a good deal on and cut the mounting tabs so he could mount it G-Spot style. There is no extraneous equipment; the bike needs everything on it just to run. Geoff fabricated an aluminum oil bag in his shop and mounted it up front, a move that is G-Spot signature style. Virtually all G-Spot bikes have the oil bag mounted on the down tubes in one fashion or another. The exhaust is stainless and was fabricated with the help of Geoff’s buddy Eric “Spanky” Dorn. Oh yeah and the model was Megan…she gave the bike a different look.
Owner:Geoff Giles
Bike Name: Knievel Super Moto Sporty
City/State: Denver CO
Builder: Geoff Giles
City/state: Denver CO
Company Info:
Web site:www.gspotcustoms.com
Fabrication:Geoff Giles
Manufacturing:Geoff Giles
Welding:Geoff Giles
Machining:Geoff Giles
Engine
Year:1998
Make:HD
Model:Sporty
Displacement:1200cc
Builder or Rebuilder:Gspot heads ported by Maynard at Flowdyne
Cases:HD
Case finish:
Barrels:HD
Bore:
Pistons:Wiseco
Barrel finish:
Lower end:
Stroke:
Rods:HD
Heads:HD
Head finish:
Valves and springs:HD
Pushrods:HD
Cams:Andrews
Lifters:HD
Carburetion:Mikuni
Air cleaner:Goodson
Other:
Transmission
Year:1998
Make:HD
Gear configuration:
Final drive:Chain
Primary:HD
Clutch:HD
Frame
Year:2006
Make:Paughco
Style or Model:deraked
Stretch:none
Rake:top secret
Modifications:
Front End
Make:Ohlins
Model: CR450
Year:
Length:
Mods:
Sheet metal
Tanks: Salinas boys modified
Fenders:G-Spot handformed
Panels:
Oil tank: Gspot custom aluminum
Other:
Paint
Sheet metal: Rich Olin
Molding: Rich Olin and Brad Custom
Base coat:Rich Olin
Graphics:Rich Olin
Frame: Rich Olin
Molding:Rich Olin
Base coat:Rich Olin
Graphics or art:
Special effects:
Pinstriping:
Wheels
Front
Make:Excel Aluminum
Size:17
Brake calipers:Brembo
Brake rotor(s):Brembo
Tire:Avon
Rear
Make:Excel Aluminum
Size:17×4.5
Brake calipers:Brembo
Brake rotor:Brembo
Pulley:
Tire:Avon
Controls
Foot controls:G-Spot
Finish:
Master cylinder:
Brake lines:
Handlebar controls:Ducati 999 modified
Finish:
Clutch Cable:
Brake Lines
Shifting:
Electrical
Ignition:
Ignition switch:
Coils:
Regulator:
Charging:
Wiring:G-Spot
Harness:G-Spot
Headlight:
Taillight:Ness
Accessory lights:
Electrical accessories:
Switches:
Battery:
What's Left
Seat:Billy Murphy All Upholstery
Pipes:G-Spot
Mufflers:
Exhaust finish:
Gas caps:
Handlebars:Renthal
Grips:
Colorado Girl Of Bikernet
By Robin Technologies |
Geoff Giles of G-Spot Customs located in Denver Colorado, has always looked up to Evel Knievel, and this bike is his second foray into a custom bike paying homage to his hero. The first bike Geoff did was the Evel G-Bob, which was GOB’s first feature, was a bike widely recognized as cutting edge at the time for the pairing of a big twin motorcycle with dirt bike components. This new bike was supposed to be something similar to the first one, but in Sporty form. Geoff had picked up a ‘98 Sporty from a pawn-shop and was just waiting for the right opportunity to get creative with it. He originally wanted it to be a bobber similar to his first Knievel tribute bike, and then the bobber craze hit and he decided to do something else with it. He received the Paughco frame he ordered, his platform for the bobbed Sporty, and began cutting, de-raking the neck so that it had a more aggressive, supermoto feel to it. He had finally found the right way to utilize the Sporty.
Geoff’s background was in racing, and his power-sports career began with motocross. He quickly learned he was good, but not good enough to be really competitive on the professional MX circuit. He got the idea to road race and raced all over the country as privateer pro in the 600 class during the early 90’s. While he was doing this it became apparent he was going to need to be able to fix his own equipment and fabricate anything that could save him money. He learned his fabrication and mechanic abilities out of necessity and put his work to the test. He was always working on ways to save weight and make bikes stop better and go faster, and has applied this philosophy to all the bikes he has built, whether they are race bikes or bikes for customers. Geoff has gotten a considerable amount of recognition for his ability to cut through the fluff of custom bikes and get down to business with functional, agile, stripped- down V-twins.
The Evel Sporty was going to be along the same lines as several other bikes he had built, but was going to have the super-moto theme and be married to a Sporty drive train. The only piece of the original Sportster he used was the power plant; everything else got sold or turned into something else. Geoff decided that the motor was going to need to be rebuilt, so he tore into it had Maynard Mills of Flowdyne port the heads, installed Andrews cams, and married it to a Mikuni 42-mm carb with a Goodson Aircleaner. Now that the go-fast part of the build was handled, he looked to the motocross industry to figure out how to save weight and make it stop well. He really liked the way the CR450 looked and knew they were very light. He found an Ohlins front end off a CR450, Billet trees courtesy of LSE Racing and made a stem to fit the Paughco neck bearings. He then found a set of 17” Excel rims off another CR450. These two things, along with super-light, billet aluminum Brembo calipers front and rear mated to light weight rotors, save a ton of weight and make this bike a very quick stopper. He used motocross and superbike hand controls and Renthal handlebars to keep the bike compact and no-nonsense. The gas tank was a Salinas Boys tank that he got a good deal on and cut the mounting tabs so he could mount it G-Spot style. There is no extraneous equipment; the bike needs everything on it just to run. Geoff fabricated an aluminum oil bag in his shop and mounted it up front, a move that is G-Spot signature style. Virtually all G-Spot bikes have the oil bag mounted on the down tubes in one fashion or another. The exhaust is stainless and was fabricated with the help of Geoff’s buddy Eric “Spanky” Dorn. Oh yeah and the model was Megan…she gave the bike a different look.
Owner:Geoff Giles
Bike Name: Knievel Super Moto Sporty
City/State: Denver CO
Builder: Geoff Giles
City/state: Denver CO
Company Info:
Web site:www.gspotcustoms.com
Fabrication:Geoff Giles
Manufacturing:Geoff Giles
Welding:Geoff Giles
Machining:Geoff Giles
Engine
Year:1998
Make:HD
Model:Sporty
Displacement:1200cc
Builder or Rebuilder:Gspot heads ported by Maynard at Flowdyne
Cases:HD
Case finish:
Barrels:HD
Bore:
Pistons:Wiseco
Barrel finish:
Lower end:
Stroke:
Rods:HD
Heads:HD
Head finish:
Valves and springs:HD
Pushrods:HD
Cams:Andrews
Lifters:HD
Carburetion:Mikuni
Air cleaner:Goodson
Other:
Transmission
Year:1998
Make:HD
Gear configuration:
Final drive:Chain
Primary:HD
Clutch:HD
Frame
Year:2006
Make:Paughco
Style or Model:deraked
Stretch:none
Rake:top secret
Modifications:
Front End
Make:Ohlins
Model: CR450
Year:
Length:
Mods:
Sheet metal
Tanks: Salinas boys modified
Fenders:G-Spot handformed
Panels:
Oil tank: Gspot custom aluminum
Other:
Paint
Sheet metal: Rich Olin
Molding: Rich Olin and Brad Custom
Base coat:Rich Olin
Graphics:Rich Olin
Frame: Rich Olin
Molding:Rich Olin
Base coat:Rich Olin
Graphics or art:
Special effects:
Pinstriping:
Wheels
Front
Make:Excel Aluminum
Size:17
Brake calipers:Brembo
Brake rotor(s):Brembo
Tire:Avon
Rear
Make:Excel Aluminum
Size:17×4.5
Brake calipers:Brembo
Brake rotor:Brembo
Pulley:
Tire:Avon
Controls
Foot controls:G-Spot
Finish:
Master cylinder:
Brake lines:
Handlebar controls:Ducati 999 modified
Finish:
Clutch Cable:
Brake Lines
Shifting:
Electrical
Ignition:
Ignition switch:
Coils:
Regulator:
Charging:
Wiring:G-Spot
Harness:G-Spot
Headlight:
Taillight:Ness
Accessory lights:
Electrical accessories:
Switches:
Battery:
What's Left
Seat:Billy Murphy All Upholstery
Pipes:G-Spot
Mufflers:
Exhaust finish:
Gas caps:
Handlebars:Renthal
Grips:
Harley-Davidson and the Marlboro-Girl
By Robin Technologies |
Bon Jovi sings, “Dead Or Alive,” while the detail-shots show pegs, pipes, ignitions. The silver scoot roars into New Year’s night. The daylight shows the lonesome rider in the desert and sun. Our eyes have a walk and the spirit is on holidays. Some minutes later the rider of the silver bullet arbitrates a dispute in a gas station. While leaving he tells his name to the cashier-girl: “Harley. Harley-Davidson.“ Mickey Rourke spoke the magic words in the 1991 movie Harley Davidson and the Marlboro-Man, short before he met Don Johnson. It became a cult-movie. Those who don’t fire up their own engines for a night-ride through their hometowns, after watching the opening sequences, may surely not be real bikers at all.
In our story the Harley’s counterpart is much more attractive, much more matching the spirit of us bikers. And the bike is special, really. It was built by Wolla’s Garage in Schwelm, Germany. Worldwide there is a whole bunch of replicas of the “Black Death,” called bikes, some good and many not so good ones, but what Wolla and the owner and planner Markus put together comes really close to the movie-bike. Lots of details had to be gathered and what wasn’t available had to be custom built, and that wasn’t few.
To gain informations and specifications they contacted the company Black Death Motorcycles for detailed basics. The guys helped our builders a lot with tech specs, pictures and some hints. Plus they sent a long-sleeve shirt to show how much they appreciated Wolla version.
Infos and parts completed the former FXR-model got new bodywork. The flat rear needed lots of tinning and molding to achieve the smooth and flat racy look. The chrome-shiny side-covers are custom-made, as well as the risers. The engine comes from S&S, is in fact a little more modern than the movie’s, for it was produced in 1992, but optically close to it and performs much better.
The gearbox also matches the engine and the look and comes from JIMS’s. The exhausts had to be street legal and good looking in one. So both was solved and they do their work on Germany’s streets now. The foot pegs and controls are custom made. The front end comes from the mother company, but is widened to 6-inches by SJP-triple trees.
A concession to the rainy weather conditions in Germany was the paintjob. In the movie the Black Death wears no color at all, pure metal to be seen. But that was too tricky for most of the days during a German bike-season.
It’s much more like NY or WAS. So the bike received a metallic silver coating, clear varnished and perfectly finished to keep the rust away.
And after all that was done they sent pictures of the ready assembled bike to “Black Death” with the wish for a close-up of the original paint job on the tank. And again they received an answer. Now House of Kolor had the template to do their great work. After the shiny silver they painted the logo on the tank-halves, very detailed and accurate.
To reassemble everything and to make it street-legal it took about 18 months, some breaks in-between, especially to get perfect details. The mirror is another concession to Germany’s street laws.
Barely legal was the posing of model Jill Diamond with the silver bullet. Her movies are kinda famous as well. She stars in a variety of fetish, bondage and vintage erotica films and picture-series. She is well booked erotic model, specialized in ‘50s rockabilly-series.
As I told her the plot of our series she was fired up at once. I showed her the movie and we made a Marlboro-girl out of her that Mickey Rourke would have wished to play with – er – in a movie.
Those who know the movie surely will regard similarities and details from it. Those who did not see it, shame on you–go watch the movie!
links:
builder: www.wollasgarage.de
model: www.jill-diamond.com
author/photographer: www.wikinger.com
Builder: Wolla’s Garage
Wolfram “Wolla“ Friedrich
Eisenwerkstr. 65
58332 Schwelm
Germany
Owner, Co-Builder Marcus Thissen
Model Black Death
year 2004
building time 18 months
Motor
brand S & S, 113 Cubicinch
year 1992
modiefied Wolla’s Garage
carb S & S
airfilter S & S
ignition Crane Hi 4
exhaust Drag Pipes
Transmission
gearbox JIMS 5-gear
Paint
colour House of Kolor
Frame
Make H.D. (modified) 1988
rake 37°
shock Rigid
Accessoiries
handlebars Dragbar
controls Ness
mirror yes, one
instruments Jay Brake
speedo H.D. Cat eye
footpegs Jay Brake
tank Flat Side welded together
oiltank W & W
swingarm W & W
headlamp H.D.
taillight Lukas
electrics Wolla’s Garage
brakes Performance Machine
seat custom WG
Frontend
Make H.D. 6 inch over
triple trees SJP
forklegs FLT (modified)
Wheels
type W & W stainless steel
spokes 40 stainless steel
size 21 inch front, 15 inch rear
tires Avon
Harley-Davidson and the Marlboro-Girl
By Robin Technologies |
Bon Jovi sings, “Dead Or Alive,” while the detail-shots show pegs, pipes, ignitions. The silver scoot roars into New Year’s night. The daylight shows the lonesome rider in the desert and sun. Our eyes have a walk and the spirit is on holidays. Some minutes later the rider of the silver bullet arbitrates a dispute in a gas station. While leaving he tells his name to the cashier-girl: “Harley. Harley-Davidson.“ Mickey Rourke spoke the magic words in the 1991 movie Harley Davidson and the Marlboro-Man, short before he met Don Johnson. It became a cult-movie. Those who don’t fire up their own engines for a night-ride through their hometowns, after watching the opening sequences, may surely not be real bikers at all.
In our story the Harley’s counterpart is much more attractive, much more matching the spirit of us bikers. And the bike is special, really. It was built by Wolla’s Garage in Schwelm, Germany. Worldwide there is a whole bunch of replicas of the “Black Death,” called bikes, some good and many not so good ones, but what Wolla and the owner and planner Markus put together comes really close to the movie-bike. Lots of details had to be gathered and what wasn’t available had to be custom built, and that wasn’t few.
To gain informations and specifications they contacted the company Black Death Motorcycles for detailed basics. The guys helped our builders a lot with tech specs, pictures and some hints. Plus they sent a long-sleeve shirt to show how much they appreciated Wolla version.
Infos and parts completed the former FXR-model got new bodywork. The flat rear needed lots of tinning and molding to achieve the smooth and flat racy look. The chrome-shiny side-covers are custom-made, as well as the risers. The engine comes from S&S, is in fact a little more modern than the movie’s, for it was produced in 1992, but optically close to it and performs much better.
The gearbox also matches the engine and the look and comes from JIMS’s. The exhausts had to be street legal and good looking in one. So both was solved and they do their work on Germany’s streets now. The foot pegs and controls are custom made. The front end comes from the mother company, but is widened to 6-inches by SJP-triple trees.
A concession to the rainy weather conditions in Germany was the paintjob. In the movie the Black Death wears no color at all, pure metal to be seen. But that was too tricky for most of the days during a German bike-season.
It’s much more like NY or WAS. So the bike received a metallic silver coating, clear varnished and perfectly finished to keep the rust away.
And after all that was done they sent pictures of the ready assembled bike to “Black Death” with the wish for a close-up of the original paint job on the tank. And again they received an answer. Now House of Kolor had the template to do their great work. After the shiny silver they painted the logo on the tank-halves, very detailed and accurate.
To reassemble everything and to make it street-legal it took about 18 months, some breaks in-between, especially to get perfect details. The mirror is another concession to Germany’s street laws.
Barely legal was the posing of model Jill Diamond with the silver bullet. Her movies are kinda famous as well. She stars in a variety of fetish, bondage and vintage erotica films and picture-series. She is well booked erotic model, specialized in ‘50s rockabilly-series.
As I told her the plot of our series she was fired up at once. I showed her the movie and we made a Marlboro-girl out of her that Mickey Rourke would have wished to play with – er – in a movie.
Those who know the movie surely will regard similarities and details from it. Those who did not see it, shame on you–go watch the movie!
links:
builder: www.wollasgarage.de
model: www.jill-diamond.com
author/photographer: www.wikinger.com
Builder: Wolla’s Garage
Wolfram “Wolla“ Friedrich
Eisenwerkstr. 65
58332 Schwelm
Germany
Owner, Co-Builder Marcus Thissen
Model Black Death
year 2004
building time 18 months
Motor
brand S & S, 113 Cubicinch
year 1992
modiefied Wolla’s Garage
carb S & S
airfilter S & S
ignition Crane Hi 4
exhaust Drag Pipes
Transmission
gearbox JIMS 5-gear
Paint
colour House of Kolor
Frame
Make H.D. (modified) 1988
rake 37°
shock Rigid
Accessoiries
handlebars Dragbar
controls Ness
mirror yes, one
instruments Jay Brake
speedo H.D. Cat eye
footpegs Jay Brake
tank Flat Side welded together
oiltank W & W
swingarm W & W
headlamp H.D.
taillight Lukas
electrics Wolla’s Garage
brakes Performance Machine
seat custom WG
Frontend
Make H.D. 6 inch over
triple trees SJP
forklegs FLT (modified)
Wheels
type W & W stainless steel
spokes 40 stainless steel
size 21 inch front, 15 inch rear
tires Avon
Episode 52: American Honey Came From Texas
By Robin Technologies |
Holidays were just around the corner. The economy sucked and the holiday blues crept into the Cantina. It was Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving and the joint was dead.
“I swept the parking lot again,” Frankie said bundled up, which wasn’t customary for SoCaL. “There ain’t shit out there. I trimmed the bushes twice, I’m bored.”
“Did you polish the brass door handles?” Marko looked around the parking lot and found a back door that was marred and chipped. “You can paint that tomorrow. Take the rest of the day off.”
“I need the money,” Frankie said. “I’ll prep the door tonight and paint it tomorrow.”
“That’s cool,” Marko said and left Frankie to tinker with the back door.
Business was down, and the Holiday Blues were creeping in the door as the sunset over the harbor and gray rain clouds dispersed the colors the sun shared with the world. Suddenly Marko sensed a dismal east coast evening. A chill dampened the atmosphere and the lack of color suddenly removed the drive to accomplish anything. He wanted to escape the gray for at least the music and bouncing boobs inside the Cantina.
Only a couple of patrons bellied up to the bar. The Chinaman strolled into the dining area followed by his Mexican assistant and his wife carrying a massive platter of Happy Hour appetizers. He gleamed with creative pride until his eyes adjusted to the soft dining room/saloon light and the number of patrons became shamefully obvious. His smile drooped like the sails on a sloop when the wind dies.
Mandy and Sheila arranged a couple of tables to display the Chinaman’s wild array of chip, dips, nachos, tamales and salsa, along with a steaming plate of Chinese herb-stuffed dumplings and soy sauce. Nyla ran to the Chinaman’s massive side to consol him while his big-cheek expression faded.
“Fantastic,” Nyla said, “I’m hungry and I’m sure more longshoremen are on their way.” As she said it the sunlight through the large dining room windows was obscured by gray clouds and the temperature seemed to drop significantly in the bar. Marko headed instinctively toward the heater thermostat. He indicated for the Mexican helper to light a fire in the massive adobe and stone fireplace. The dining room was empty so Mandy turned the lights down to save electricity.
As the evening wore on BB King sang the blues from Nyla’s selection of CDs. Clay ordered another shot of tequila and a Corona, while Buster drank Cokes and whimpered about his bride, who’d abandoned him and their kids to shack up with a longshoreman. Marko considered shutting the Cantina down early when the rumble of a couple of bikes filled the bleak night air. It had started to rain and the tapping of rain against the shutters added to the biker blues inside.
The two riders pulled up beside Buster’s wet black Sportster with candy apple metallic flames. They dismounted quickly, locked up their bikes and scrambled into the massive oak doors, dripping cold rain on the hardwood deck.
Marko met them at the door. “Welcome! Let me have your wet stuff,” he said, “I’ll hang it by the fire.”
As the riders freed themselves of helmets and thick black leather Marko discovered that one rider was a woman, a tiny hot-looking brunette with blue eyes and a sizeable chest that she enjoyed displaying openly. She stripped to a tank top, Levis and chaps, a sizzling combination.
“Thank you so much,” she said handing Marko her heavy wet jacket. He immediately noticed her bright sparkling blue eyes dancing in her head and a smile made from the lips of an angel. It was quirky, naughty and so upbeat. Even the tank top was moist and her braless nipples press succulently against the thin fabric. She shook out her shoulder length hair, snapped a rubber band around her thick mane and strolled to the bar under admiring looks of the other patrons.
She glanced at the patrons, then Nyla and licked her lips seductively.
“It’s so nice and warm in here,” she said in a syrupy drawl. “You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of American Honey back there, would you?” Her electric connection with Nyla’s eyes slipped along her neck and down to Nyla’s milky boobs.
“I’ll take a double shot of Wild Turkey, neat,” her boyfriend said handing Marko his jacket and chaps.
“My name is Dakota,” the new female customer said as Nyla poured her a tumbler of American Honey liquor over rocks. “And your name is?”
“Nyla,” she said. “Where are you and your husband headed?” She was fishing.
“He’s not my husband,” Dakota said quickly. “This is Rex, my riding partner. We’re headed back to Texas for the holiday.”
Nyla’s smile lit up like a Christmas tree as she sensed an alluring attraction in this girl’s haunting, teasing gaze. They chatted lightly about their bikes, the ride ahead, dodging nasty weather and getting home in time for Thanksgiving dinner.
Rex lacked Dakota’s upbeat demeanor and in the space of 90 minutes, he downed three Wild Turkey doubles and his demeanor turned sour. Clay recognized the evil side while Marko watched from afar. “This bitch is always looking for a good fuckin’ time,” Rex said and slammed his thick glass against a saloon table. “Make the next drink count!”
Dakota was short and as voluptuous as a Vargas painting. She slipped off the barstool and headed directly for Marko who wore all black workout gear and stood in a dark corner of the room. “Can’t we party?”
“Sure,” Marko said. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
“I meant the girls. Can I buy them a drink or two?” Dakota asked out of courtesy.
“Tonight?” Marko said. “Sure, tomorrow we’re closed and I’m thinking about shutting this place down early.”
“Terrific,” Dakota bubbled and returned to the bar. “I got security approval. I can buy everyone a round of American Honey.”
Sheila clinked her glass with Clay and they tasted the sweet Meade-style liquor for the first time. Meade was historically designed for sex, the basis of the term Honeymoon. Dakota downed a shot with Nyla.
“I’m going get out of the rest of these wet clothes,” she said.
She slipped off the barstool and danced to the music across the floor to the fireplace. She popped the rubber band out of her hair and shook it wildly in front of the popping fire. She kicked off her cowboy boots and unstrapped her chaps seductively as if a stripper warming up for a crowd. She hung her chaps near the fire and turned toward the bar.
“You don’t mind if I dry my Levis do you?” She unbuckled her belt and slithered out of her denims to reveal a delicate thong and a round bubble-butt ass that could stop a train.
Her smile indicated pure joy at their reaction. She gleamed ecstasy in every gesture. She danced back to the bar and ordered the girls another round. As Nyla poured her own shot, Dakota interrupted. “Don’t drink it just yet.”
“Excuse me,” she said and crawled up onto the bar lying back on the bar top. “How about a belly shot, Nyla?”
Nyla stepped up on a stool as her small bar crowd circled the sexy occasion. She leaned over Dakota and her milky boob almost fell out of her tempting top. She poured the thick substance delicately into her navel. Dakota looked into Nyla’s glistening green eyes, “That felt good.”
“I’m just getting started,” Nyla said and leaned over to slurp the drink from Dakota’s delicate navel. The party was started. For the first time Clay warmed up to Sheila and poor Buster made a move for Mandy. Lotsa groping going on, except for one patron.
“That’s enough of that lesbian shit,” Rex snapped jumping to his feet.
He grabbed Dakota’s arm and yanked her off the bar. Nyla snatched her baseball bat from its holstered position behind the bar and circled the end of her station. Buster jumped of his stool as Dakota bounced off a barstool and fell to the deck. Marko witnessed the outburst and knew instinctively that the wrong move could mean sexy mood destruction.
Buster came up on Rex and startled him. He dropped Dakota’s arm and reached for a 6-inch straight-blade bowie knife, in a fringed leather sheath on his hip. Buster hesitated and reached for his own knife, but Marko got to Rex first with a sharp jab to his jaw, just enough to knock him out. Marko caught him, but his gaze was fixed on how Dakota might respond. She could go off or be relieved of the intrusion and the party could ensue. The room froze.
“Are you okay,” Marko said. “I just stunned him. He’ll be fine.”
“He’s been following me for a month hoping to get lucky,” Dakota said getting to her feet. “You’re not going to throw us out, are you?”
Marko signaled to Buster, “Grab his feet.” They carried Rex to the back where they set him on the Chinaman’s cot to let him sleep it off. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Sorry about that girls,” Dakota said and dusted herself off. “Let’s do it right this time.”
Nyla turned to the electrical control panel behind the counter and flicked the exterior lights off and the closed sign on. Then she turned the dial on the dining room lights off and the saloon lights down, but the over-the-bar lights were turned up slightly. She winked at Dakota as she crawled up onto the slick oak bar top once more. “Pour a few more shots of the honey,” she said and settled down on her back. “Hey, dismal Dan, you get the first one.”
Clay looked over his shoulder as if he didn’t know who she referred to. Dakota poured the shot deliciously into her dainty navel cavity and Clay leaned over her soft belly and slurped up the warming liquor.
“How about you,” Dakota said to Sheila who put a lip lock on Clay as if to taste the remnants of the young Texan.
“I like what I found here,” Sheila said and the two staggered off to a booth.
Dakota winked at Nyla. “I’m saving you for last.”
Mandy stepped forward and grabbed a shot glass of the amber liquid. She pushed the bar stools aside and shoved her torso as close to the bar’s edge as possible. She poured the shot glass in her mouth and sloshed it around like mouthwash, then lifted Dakota’s top to reveal the most succulent, massive, round tits from ol’ flat Texas. She leaned over the girls jiggling chest and dribbled the warm liquid on her nipples.
Nyla couldn’t stand it. She pulled her top down to reveal her massive milky canyon and took one nipple in her mouth as Mandy tried to surround her other boob with her slender hands while suckling on her quivering nipple. Dakota arched her back instinctively.
“Oh baby, this is heaven,” Dakota said reaching out on both sides to touch her partners’ tits.
Buster approached Mandy from the back watching each tender touch with delight. He caressed Mandy’s ass and Mandy lifted her head from the hardening nipple and Dakota’s deep sighs to put a hot lip lock on Buster. The poor bastard hadn’t been laid since his ol’ lady ran off, and Mandy’s response made his whole dismal holiday season.
Nyla tenderly held one of Dakota’s tits and kissed every silky inch to the soft base of her neck and Dakota turned to face her. Nyla drug her tits along Dakota’s upper arm as she leaned in to kiss Dakota full on the lips. Dakota fell into her embrace and twisted her torso slightly. Mandy let go and turned toward the short, shave-headed biker who held on for all he was worth.
Nyla kissed her for what seemed an hour and ran her hand down over those massive mounds of joy along her belly to her panties. Dakota eyes twinkled and her smile radiated pure joy. “There’s a special shot for you, baby,” Dakota said as if they were alone somewhere far far away. She arched her small back and helped Nyla pull her panties down to reveal and perfectly shaved throbbing mound. She spread here legs slightly and poured the shot over her lips.
The night was just beginning as Nyla leaned down, and extended her tongue for the first delightful swipe. She kissed her there and Dakota almost jumped. Nyla let her tongue slither up her body, over her tits once more to her constantly smiling lips and kissed her again. The girl was shaking with pleasure. “Let’s go upstairs, baby, where we can do this so right.”
Upstairs in Bandit’s office, candles were mysteriously lit around the apartment bed where they collapsed and left the world of it’s traffic, wars, greed and stinking economy. For a long night their tenderness transported them somewhere so natural and beautiful, so loving, caring and safe from outside distractions.
The next morning, they showered together, caressed some more and without words returned to the bar for a Bloody Marys and Chorizo and eggs prepared special by the Chinaman and his staff. They all knew the look of two infatuated kittens. Finally, without two words, as if to make the spell linger as long as possible, Nyla walked Dakota to her motorcycle. Rex was gone. The sun shinned on the harbor and the sky above radiated blue warmth. Dakota’s clothes were dry and warm. She suited up for the ride.
“Do you need anything,” Nyla said pulling Dakota close once more. Standing in her bare feet their eyes met in a deep sense of lingering ecstasy.
“No,” Dakota said. “I will never ever forget last night. Will I ever see you again?”
“You damn right,” Nyla said and patted her ass then kissed her deeply. “Make sure you call, when you get home. I want to know you’re safe.”
“I don’t want to go,” Dakota said as she released her clutch and rode attentively out of the parking lot.
Marko leaned against the adobe wall and watched as the smiling Texas hottie rode out of Los Angeles. It pulled at his heart slightly. He knew the connection, the touch, the fire and the disturbing sense of watching it slip away.
Episode 52: American Honey Came From Texas
By Robin Technologies |
Holidays were just around the corner. The economy sucked and the holiday blues crept into the Cantina. It was Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving and the joint was dead.
“I swept the parking lot again,” Frankie said bundled up, which wasn’t customary for SoCaL. “There ain’t shit out there. I trimmed the bushes twice, I’m bored.”
“Did you polish the brass door handles?” Marko looked around the parking lot and found a back door that was marred and chipped. “You can paint that tomorrow. Take the rest of the day off.”
“I need the money,” Frankie said. “I’ll prep the door tonight and paint it tomorrow.”
“That’s cool,” Marko said and left Frankie to tinker with the back door.
Business was down, and the Holiday Blues were creeping in the door as the sunset over the harbor and gray rain clouds dispersed the colors the sun shared with the world. Suddenly Marko sensed a dismal east coast evening. A chill dampened the atmosphere and the lack of color suddenly removed the drive to accomplish anything. He wanted to escape the gray for at least the music and bouncing boobs inside the Cantina.
Only a couple of patrons bellied up to the bar. The Chinaman strolled into the dining area followed by his Mexican assistant and his wife carrying a massive platter of Happy Hour appetizers. He gleamed with creative pride until his eyes adjusted to the soft dining room/saloon light and the number of patrons became shamefully obvious. His smile drooped like the sails on a sloop when the wind dies.
Mandy and Sheila arranged a couple of tables to display the Chinaman’s wild array of chip, dips, nachos, tamales and salsa, along with a steaming plate of Chinese herb-stuffed dumplings and soy sauce. Nyla ran to the Chinaman’s massive side to consol him while his big-cheek expression faded.
“Fantastic,” Nyla said, “I’m hungry and I’m sure more longshoremen are on their way.” As she said it the sunlight through the large dining room windows was obscured by gray clouds and the temperature seemed to drop significantly in the bar. Marko headed instinctively toward the heater thermostat. He indicated for the Mexican helper to light a fire in the massive adobe and stone fireplace. The dining room was empty so Mandy turned the lights down to save electricity.
As the evening wore on BB King sang the blues from Nyla’s selection of CDs. Clay ordered another shot of tequila and a Corona, while Buster drank Cokes and whimpered about his bride, who’d abandoned him and their kids to shack up with a longshoreman. Marko considered shutting the Cantina down early when the rumble of a couple of bikes filled the bleak night air. It had started to rain and the tapping of rain against the shutters added to the biker blues inside.
The two riders pulled up beside Buster’s wet black Sportster with candy apple metallic flames. They dismounted quickly, locked up their bikes and scrambled into the massive oak doors, dripping cold rain on the hardwood deck.
Marko met them at the door. “Welcome! Let me have your wet stuff,” he said, “I’ll hang it by the fire.”
As the riders freed themselves of helmets and thick black leather Marko discovered that one rider was a woman, a tiny hot-looking brunette with blue eyes and a sizeable chest that she enjoyed displaying openly. She stripped to a tank top, Levis and chaps, a sizzling combination.
“Thank you so much,” she said handing Marko her heavy wet jacket. He immediately noticed her bright sparkling blue eyes dancing in her head and a smile made from the lips of an angel. It was quirky, naughty and so upbeat. Even the tank top was moist and her braless nipples press succulently against the thin fabric. She shook out her shoulder length hair, snapped a rubber band around her thick mane and strolled to the bar under admiring looks of the other patrons.
She glanced at the patrons, then Nyla and licked her lips seductively.
“It’s so nice and warm in here,” she said in a syrupy drawl. “You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of American Honey back there, would you?” Her electric connection with Nyla’s eyes slipped along her neck and down to Nyla’s milky boobs.
“I’ll take a double shot of Wild Turkey, neat,” her boyfriend said handing Marko his jacket and chaps.
“My name is Dakota,” the new female customer said as Nyla poured her a tumbler of American Honey liquor over rocks. “And your name is?”
“Nyla,” she said. “Where are you and your husband headed?” She was fishing.
“He’s not my husband,” Dakota said quickly. “This is Rex, my riding partner. We’re headed back to Texas for the holiday.”
Nyla’s smile lit up like a Christmas tree as she sensed an alluring attraction in this girl’s haunting, teasing gaze. They chatted lightly about their bikes, the ride ahead, dodging nasty weather and getting home in time for Thanksgiving dinner.
Rex lacked Dakota’s upbeat demeanor and in the space of 90 minutes, he downed three Wild Turkey doubles and his demeanor turned sour. Clay recognized the evil side while Marko watched from afar. “This bitch is always looking for a good fuckin’ time,” Rex said and slammed his thick glass against a saloon table. “Make the next drink count!”
Dakota was short and as voluptuous as a Vargas painting. She slipped off the barstool and headed directly for Marko who wore all black workout gear and stood in a dark corner of the room. “Can’t we party?”
“Sure,” Marko said. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
“I meant the girls. Can I buy them a drink or two?” Dakota asked out of courtesy.
“Tonight?” Marko said. “Sure, tomorrow we’re closed and I’m thinking about shutting this place down early.”
“Terrific,” Dakota bubbled and returned to the bar. “I got security approval. I can buy everyone a round of American Honey.”
Sheila clinked her glass with Clay and they tasted the sweet Meade-style liquor for the first time. Meade was historically designed for sex, the basis of the term Honeymoon. Dakota downed a shot with Nyla.
“I’m going get out of the rest of these wet clothes,” she said.
She slipped off the barstool and danced to the music across the floor to the fireplace. She popped the rubber band out of her hair and shook it wildly in front of the popping fire. She kicked off her cowboy boots and unstrapped her chaps seductively as if a stripper warming up for a crowd. She hung her chaps near the fire and turned toward the bar.
“You don’t mind if I dry my Levis do you?” She unbuckled her belt and slithered out of her denims to reveal a delicate thong and a round bubble-butt ass that could stop a train.
Her smile indicated pure joy at their reaction. She gleamed ecstasy in every gesture. She danced back to the bar and ordered the girls another round. As Nyla poured her own shot, Dakota interrupted. “Don’t drink it just yet.”
“Excuse me,” she said and crawled up onto the bar lying back on the bar top. “How about a belly shot, Nyla?”
Nyla stepped up on a stool as her small bar crowd circled the sexy occasion. She leaned over Dakota and her milky boob almost fell out of her tempting top. She poured the thick substance delicately into her navel. Dakota looked into Nyla’s glistening green eyes, “That felt good.”
“I’m just getting started,” Nyla said and leaned over to slurp the drink from Dakota’s delicate navel. The party was started. For the first time Clay warmed up to Sheila and poor Buster made a move for Mandy. Lotsa groping going on, except for one patron.
“That’s enough of that lesbian shit,” Rex snapped jumping to his feet.
He grabbed Dakota’s arm and yanked her off the bar. Nyla snatched her baseball bat from its holstered position behind the bar and circled the end of her station. Buster jumped of his stool as Dakota bounced off a barstool and fell to the deck. Marko witnessed the outburst and knew instinctively that the wrong move could mean sexy mood destruction.
Buster came up on Rex and startled him. He dropped Dakota’s arm and reached for a 6-inch straight-blade bowie knife, in a fringed leather sheath on his hip. Buster hesitated and reached for his own knife, but Marko got to Rex first with a sharp jab to his jaw, just enough to knock him out. Marko caught him, but his gaze was fixed on how Dakota might respond. She could go off or be relieved of the intrusion and the party could ensue. The room froze.
“Are you okay,” Marko said. “I just stunned him. He’ll be fine.”
“He’s been following me for a month hoping to get lucky,” Dakota said getting to her feet. “You’re not going to throw us out, are you?”
Marko signaled to Buster, “Grab his feet.” They carried Rex to the back where they set him on the Chinaman’s cot to let him sleep it off. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Sorry about that girls,” Dakota said and dusted herself off. “Let’s do it right this time.”
Nyla turned to the electrical control panel behind the counter and flicked the exterior lights off and the closed sign on. Then she turned the dial on the dining room lights off and the saloon lights down, but the over-the-bar lights were turned up slightly. She winked at Dakota as she crawled up onto the slick oak bar top once more. “Pour a few more shots of the honey,” she said and settled down on her back. “Hey, dismal Dan, you get the first one.”
Clay looked over his shoulder as if he didn’t know who she referred to. Dakota poured the shot deliciously into her dainty navel cavity and Clay leaned over her soft belly and slurped up the warming liquor.
“How about you,” Dakota said to Sheila who put a lip lock on Clay as if to taste the remnants of the young Texan.
“I like what I found here,” Sheila said and the two staggered off to a booth.
Dakota winked at Nyla. “I’m saving you for last.”
Mandy stepped forward and grabbed a shot glass of the amber liquid. She pushed the bar stools aside and shoved her torso as close to the bar’s edge as possible. She poured the shot glass in her mouth and sloshed it around like mouthwash, then lifted Dakota’s top to reveal the most succulent, massive, round tits from ol’ flat Texas. She leaned over the girls jiggling chest and dribbled the warm liquid on her nipples.
Nyla couldn’t stand it. She pulled her top down to reveal her massive milky canyon and took one nipple in her mouth as Mandy tried to surround her other boob with her slender hands while suckling on her quivering nipple. Dakota arched her back instinctively.
“Oh baby, this is heaven,” Dakota said reaching out on both sides to touch her partners’ tits.
Buster approached Mandy from the back watching each tender touch with delight. He caressed Mandy’s ass and Mandy lifted her head from the hardening nipple and Dakota’s deep sighs to put a hot lip lock on Buster. The poor bastard hadn’t been laid since his ol’ lady ran off, and Mandy’s response made his whole dismal holiday season.
Nyla tenderly held one of Dakota’s tits and kissed every silky inch to the soft base of her neck and Dakota turned to face her. Nyla drug her tits along Dakota’s upper arm as she leaned in to kiss Dakota full on the lips. Dakota fell into her embrace and twisted her torso slightly. Mandy let go and turned toward the short, shave-headed biker who held on for all he was worth.
Nyla kissed her for what seemed an hour and ran her hand down over those massive mounds of joy along her belly to her panties. Dakota eyes twinkled and her smile radiated pure joy. “There’s a special shot for you, baby,” Dakota said as if they were alone somewhere far far away. She arched her small back and helped Nyla pull her panties down to reveal and perfectly shaved throbbing mound. She spread here legs slightly and poured the shot over her lips.
The night was just beginning as Nyla leaned down, and extended her tongue for the first delightful swipe. She kissed her there and Dakota almost jumped. Nyla let her tongue slither up her body, over her tits once more to her constantly smiling lips and kissed her again. The girl was shaking with pleasure. “Let’s go upstairs, baby, where we can do this so right.”
Upstairs in Bandit’s office, candles were mysteriously lit around the apartment bed where they collapsed and left the world of it’s traffic, wars, greed and stinking economy. For a long night their tenderness transported them somewhere so natural and beautiful, so loving, caring and safe from outside distractions.
The next morning, they showered together, caressed some more and without words returned to the bar for a Bloody Marys and Chorizo and eggs prepared special by the Chinaman and his staff. They all knew the look of two infatuated kittens. Finally, without two words, as if to make the spell linger as long as possible, Nyla walked Dakota to her motorcycle. Rex was gone. The sun shinned on the harbor and the sky above radiated blue warmth. Dakota’s clothes were dry and warm. She suited up for the ride.
“Do you need anything,” Nyla said pulling Dakota close once more. Standing in her bare feet their eyes met in a deep sense of lingering ecstasy.
“No,” Dakota said. “I will never ever forget last night. Will I ever see you again?”
“You damn right,” Nyla said and patted her ass then kissed her deeply. “Make sure you call, when you get home. I want to know you’re safe.”
“I don’t want to go,” Dakota said as she released her clutch and rode attentively out of the parking lot.
Marko leaned against the adobe wall and watched as the smiling Texas hottie rode out of Los Angeles. It pulled at his heart slightly. He knew the connection, the touch, the fire and the disturbing sense of watching it slip away.
Friday with Sucker Punch Sally & Trish
By Robin Technologies |
Bandit called and asked me if I had anyone I could shoot for our GOB section. Now I can always find a young lovely for the GOB section but then he said, “who was special enough to be shot with a Sucker Punch Sally bike.” Ah, a tall order.
I went to work immediately in search of a woman deserving of the job. She needed a flair, a tattooed forehead, a Betty babe with checkerboard skirts and leather bondage neck straps. I scanned the internet, going thru site after site … sending out emails to potential young lovelies who might fill the bill and extol the virtues of posing naked on the world’s largest and most active biker website on a bike built by one of the most famous bike building shops in the country. The pressure mounted day after day, minute by minute, phone call by e-mail. I was beginning to drink more than my usual fifth a day.
I sifted thru page after page of photos on one of my primary modeling sites till I found TRISH. All of my criteria was suddenly met. Flowing blonde hair with steel grey eyes … and that was just from the headshot. The e-mail went out immediately with a plea for her to make, not only my day, but the day for literally thousands of bikers around the world by posing for me, with the Sucker Punch Sally. Sure, she wasn’t Ms Page, or the dominatrix from hell, but she sure rocked my world. Would she mind if I called her Sally? Time passed and I grew pensive, but then the answer floated across the airwaves. She not only agreed to do the shoot for the paltry sum I offered, she was excited.
The shoot was set up for a Friday afternoon at the Sucker Punch Sally shop in Scottsdale just north of Phoenix. Christian, da boss, was ready when I got there with the bike and most accommodating attitude, especially when Trish showed up. The whole shop staff became very accommodating.
What a great bunch of guys. Now, I should tell you that after the shoot Trish was taking her last final at Arizona State and two weeks later she graduated with a degree in business. She was amazing with blond hair, amazing eyes and all the rest of her amazing physical attributes, plus a brain to boot.
We first set up inside the shop. Christian had a Sucker Punch t-shirt for Trish to wear but was having it steamed and pressed. We were in a time crunch. I had to improvise. I went to my bag, found two bandanas and created the perfect halter top. God I love my job. Then after shots with Christian and all of the staff it was time to move outside for a little more privacy and a lot more Trish.
Trish went to change to her evening attire; it was pushing 6 p.m. after all. As she walked thru the shop all jaws hit the floor. In black lace she was simply stunning.
Now I know I haven’t written much about Sucker Punch or the bike we used in the shoot. but you can read that stuff on the tech sheet or go to their recently redesigned web page at www.suckerpunchsally.com. I can tell you that when you walk thru the shop you meet a quality crew who know exactly what they’re doing and stand prepared to build a bike to your specs, at a price that makes you wonder how they stay in business.
They put out quality, affordable bikes and take great pride in every one that rolls out of the shop, and that’s just what Christian, Donnie, Mike and SPS crew plan to keep on doing. That’s what you need to know.
My thanks to Christian, his crew and of course Trish. This is how I like to spend my Friday afternoons—not bad.
Bikernet Tech Chart to come.
Regular Stuff
Owner: Retired NHL Hockey Player
Bike Name: 71 Bobber
City/State: Phoenix AZ
Builder: Sucker Punch Sallys
City/state: Phoenix, AZ
Web site: www.suckerpunchsallys.com
Fabrication: Sucker Punch Sally's
Manufacturing: Sucker Punch Sally's
Welding: Sucker Punch Sally's
Machining: Sucker Punch Sally's
Engine
Year: Harley-Davidson
Make: Evo
Displacement: 80 CI
Cases: H-D
Barrels:H-D
Pistons:H-D
Barrel finish:
Lower end:H-D
Stroke:
Rods:H-D
Heads:H-D
Head finish:
Valves and springs:H-D
Pushrods:H-D
Cams:H-D
Lifters:H-D
Carburetion:S&S
Air cleaner: S&S
Transmission
Year: 2006
Final drive: Chain
Primary: BDL
Clutch: BDL
Frame
Year: 2006
Make: Sucker Punch Sally's
Style or Model: NO Rake NO Stretch
Stretch: 0
Rake: 30
Front End
Make: 41mm Telescopic
Length: 2″ under stock
Sheet metal
Tanks: Modified Sporty
Fenders: Sucker Punch Sally's
Oil tank: Horseshoe
Wheels
Front
Size: 16″
Brake calipers: H-D
Brake rotor(s): H-D
Tire: Avon
Rear
Make:
Size: 16″
Brake calipers:H-D
Brake rotor:H-D
Tire: Avon
Controls
Finish: Polished
Handlebar controls: Magura
Electrical
Coils: Dual Fire
Wiring: Sucker Punch Sally's
What's Left
Seat: Sucker Punch Sally's
Exhaust finish: Chrome
Handlebars: Dirt Bike
Friday with Sucker Punch Sally & Trish
By Robin Technologies |
Bandit called and asked me if I had anyone I could shoot for our GOB section. Now I can always find a young lovely for the GOB section but then he said, “who was special enough to be shot with a Sucker Punch Sally bike.” Ah, a tall order.
I went to work immediately in search of a woman deserving of the job. She needed a flair, a tattooed forehead, a Betty babe with checkerboard skirts and leather bondage neck straps. I scanned the internet, going thru site after site … sending out emails to potential young lovelies who might fill the bill and extol the virtues of posing naked on the world’s largest and most active biker website on a bike built by one of the most famous bike building shops in the country. The pressure mounted day after day, minute by minute, phone call by e-mail. I was beginning to drink more than my usual fifth a day.
I sifted thru page after page of photos on one of my primary modeling sites till I found TRISH. All of my criteria was suddenly met. Flowing blonde hair with steel grey eyes … and that was just from the headshot. The e-mail went out immediately with a plea for her to make, not only my day, but the day for literally thousands of bikers around the world by posing for me, with the Sucker Punch Sally. Sure, she wasn’t Ms Page, or the dominatrix from hell, but she sure rocked my world. Would she mind if I called her Sally? Time passed and I grew pensive, but then the answer floated across the airwaves. She not only agreed to do the shoot for the paltry sum I offered, she was excited.
The shoot was set up for a Friday afternoon at the Sucker Punch Sally shop in Scottsdale just north of Phoenix. Christian, da boss, was ready when I got there with the bike and most accommodating attitude, especially when Trish showed up. The whole shop staff became very accommodating.
What a great bunch of guys. Now, I should tell you that after the shoot Trish was taking her last final at Arizona State and two weeks later she graduated with a degree in business. She was amazing with blond hair, amazing eyes and all the rest of her amazing physical attributes, plus a brain to boot.
We first set up inside the shop. Christian had a Sucker Punch t-shirt for Trish to wear but was having it steamed and pressed. We were in a time crunch. I had to improvise. I went to my bag, found two bandanas and created the perfect halter top. God I love my job. Then after shots with Christian and all of the staff it was time to move outside for a little more privacy and a lot more Trish.
Trish went to change to her evening attire; it was pushing 6 p.m. after all. As she walked thru the shop all jaws hit the floor. In black lace she was simply stunning.
Now I know I haven’t written much about Sucker Punch or the bike we used in the shoot. but you can read that stuff on the tech sheet or go to their recently redesigned web page at www.suckerpunchsally.com. I can tell you that when you walk thru the shop you meet a quality crew who know exactly what they’re doing and stand prepared to build a bike to your specs, at a price that makes you wonder how they stay in business.
They put out quality, affordable bikes and take great pride in every one that rolls out of the shop, and that’s just what Christian, Donnie, Mike and SPS crew plan to keep on doing. That’s what you need to know.
My thanks to Christian, his crew and of course Trish. This is how I like to spend my Friday afternoons—not bad.
Bikernet Tech Chart to come.
Regular Stuff
Owner: Retired NHL Hockey Player
Bike Name: 71 Bobber
City/State: Phoenix AZ
Builder: Sucker Punch Sallys
City/state: Phoenix, AZ
Web site: www.suckerpunchsallys.com
Fabrication: Sucker Punch Sally's
Manufacturing: Sucker Punch Sally's
Welding: Sucker Punch Sally's
Machining: Sucker Punch Sally's
Engine
Year: Harley-Davidson
Make: Evo
Displacement: 80 CI
Cases: H-D
Barrels:H-D
Pistons:H-D
Barrel finish:
Lower end:H-D
Stroke:
Rods:H-D
Heads:H-D
Head finish:
Valves and springs:H-D
Pushrods:H-D
Cams:H-D
Lifters:H-D
Carburetion:S&S
Air cleaner: S&S
Transmission
Year: 2006
Final drive: Chain
Primary: BDL
Clutch: BDL
Frame
Year: 2006
Make: Sucker Punch Sally's
Style or Model: NO Rake NO Stretch
Stretch: 0
Rake: 30
Front End
Make: 41mm Telescopic
Length: 2″ under stock
Sheet metal
Tanks: Modified Sporty
Fenders: Sucker Punch Sally's
Oil tank: Horseshoe
Wheels
Front
Size: 16″
Brake calipers: H-D
Brake rotor(s): H-D
Tire: Avon
Rear
Make:
Size: 16″
Brake calipers:H-D
Brake rotor:H-D
Tire: Avon
Controls
Finish: Polished
Handlebar controls: Magura
Electrical
Coils: Dual Fire
Wiring: Sucker Punch Sally's
What's Left
Seat: Sucker Punch Sally's
Exhaust finish: Chrome
Handlebars: Dirt Bike
Episode 51: Cantina Finally Reopens
By Robin Technologies |
Yeah, they closed the Cantina last October, almost a year to the day. Bandit went to work for the VA while going to court every couple of months fighting for his liquor license, and Marko packed up and flew to Iraq to train security forces. Some of the girls were forced to take jobs at Canatti’s Fish and Chips joint. The Chinaman took over the galley at Shamrock’s Fish Market and got fired six months later for improving their bland salsa.
Here’s what happened: Just a week before Biketoberfest on the east coast, Bandit’s Cantina gang was celebrating the end of the summer, preparations for Halloween parties, the full moon, who gives a fuck. They celebrated every weekend it wasn?t raining. The joint cranked from dawn to after midnight every day. The crowds grew, the girls flocked and fucked after- hours and life was good until Jerry started to hang around.
A squat local biker with a bobber built by Bandit cruised up to the Cantina, rapped his shotgun straight pipes and rattled the windows. He scrambled off the bike and yanked open the heavy arched Oak door to the saloon and dining room.
“Where you headed?” Frankie shouted from across the parking lot.
He was sweeping leaves and cigarette butts from the freshly laid, dark surface with a broad push broom. Jerry knew Frankie from his alcoholic days and Frankie knew Jerry as a wise-ass kid from the ghetto.
“What’s it to you, old man?” Jerry shouted.
“You don’t drink,” Frankie said.
“Neither do you,” Jerry said. “At least you?d better not.”
“Seven years straight,” Frankie said.
Frankie was less than 50 years of age, but looked 90, whereas Jerry crested 40 and still looked a pudgy 30 with a sharp goatee and thick matted hair that never needed combing.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jerry spat at the curb and pulled on his drooping denims over tan leatherwork boots. He worked construction off and on.
“Don’t bring your wives around here,” Frankie said, thinking back to Jerry’s last visit to Bandit’s Cantina, and turned back to his broom.
Frankie didn’t have much going and Bandit saved his scurvy ass with a menial job fixing and sweeping around the Cantina. Jerry just shook his head and pulled at the big thick door.
Inside the place was smokin.’ There were wall-to-wall girls, in addition to the hot-looking barmaids. The bar was packed with riders and happy patrons. Marko immediately approached Jerry with a stern stare.
“We don’t need your trouble around here,” Marko said.
“No problem,” Jerry mutter, but his phone went off in his pocket, screaming, “Where you at?” Rap music followed.
“She’s not a problem,” Jerry said and saw a riding partner belly up to the bar. “I promise, no problem. Sorry about the last time.”
Marko shook his head and wandered off. It was happy hour on a Friday and the Cantina was rapidly filling up as the sun drifted over the harbor and the sunset streaked the sky to the west, another knockout day on the coast.
Jeremiah’s phone rang again and this time he answered it.
“What are you doing?” Carla quizzed.
“I’m just hanging out with some pals,” Jerry returned. The phone went quiet for 10 seconds.
“You’re at the Cantina!” Carla shouted. “I knew it! I told you to never go there again!”
“Give it a break, will ya?” Jeremiah said.
“I want to take the kids to the movies,” she snapped. “I need you to bring me 50 dollars, right now.”
“Later,” Jerry said.
“Right now!” Carla spat.
“I paid child support,” Jerry said.
“What difference does that make?” Carla said. “I’ll call child services.?
“Gimme an hour,” Jerry said.
“Bring it now!”
Jerry hung up and returned to the bar. Nyla looked particularly sexy this Friday evening with her soft creamy boobs spilling out of her gathered blouse. A dark-haired girl approached Jerry and Bad Brad and started talking bikes and the Horse Smoke Out rocking the Arizona hills 50 miles from Sedona a few weeks prior.
She wasn’t the floozy type or the needy broad who wanted everything, every minute of the day. She seemed upbeat and ready for some fun. She reeked of a tomboy edge, but she was voluptuous, like Jerry preferred in women. Wearing a light flannel shirt unbuttoned to the center of her chest, her tan, abundant cleavage was delightfully visible and Jerry went for it like dog after a steak bone.
Chinaman, wearing a stained white chef’s frock delivered steaming chips, salsa and fresh cool spicy guacamole in a pottery dish. Everything dazzled Jerry’s eyes like a kid under fresh Christmas pine needles and dazzling Christmas tree ornaments.
An hour passed and his cell phone screamed, but Jerry paid little attention. Jerry bought Amanda another Gold Cadillac Margarita and her big dark eyes glistened in the waning sunlight off the harbor. She attended the local community college and worked at Home Depot in San Pedro. They talked of construction, hardware and building tools. She was making Jerry’s day as she smiled and the edge of her soft natural areola showed under the hem of her shirt. She drove him nuts.
Between numerous repair jobs and remodeling kitchens and baths, Jeremiah struggled with two ex-wives and three bastard kids. Plus his home situation with his brother and wife lacked cohesiveness and calm surroundings. Amanda’s smooth gaze, brilliant white teeth and mountains of curves took him away from all the heartache and turmoil to a soft, delightful escape.
Tina dropped a tray of margaritas as she headed to a new, large table of patrons. The Cantina erupted in laughter and applause. Tina did that every night and Marko suspected that it was a scheme to show off her new giant boob job as she leaned to clean up the mess. Or he assumed Bandit worked it out with her to break the edge, if the Cantina went quiet or to distract patrons barking fighting words. Whatever, it always worked.
The new group of eight jammed around the large table as if to celebrate a birthday. They were new to the Cantina and Marko overheard one guy who looked like a suit mention Long Beach.
Tina returned to the bar to reload her large bar tray with Margaritas. She apologized to the group for the delay and gave them all an additional shot of Quervo Gold. The Chinaman’s busboy delivered fresh salsa chips and guac and the party began.
By the second round of Margaritas, the cameras came out and were flashing mostly around a young blond broad while she sipped her drink and smiled with tanned surfer-girl features.
Marko grabbed Tina by the arm. “Did you card her?” he said.
“Yeah, but she didn’t have her purse,” Tina muttered spinning past Marko to collect another order. “Her boss vouched for her.”
Just then, Marko’s walkie-talkie squawked. “Undercover cops,” Frankie said, as Marko approached the large table in the center of the sprawling adobe dining room.
“Excuse me,” Marko said to the suit. “I need to see an ID for before we serve any more drinks to her.”
The lanky gent stood up abruptly, “Too late,” he said and pulled his wallet from his slacks, flashing it open to show his ABC (Alcohol and Beverage Control) badge, just as the front door burst open, and several undercover cops blazed in, flashing badges and shouting.
“We’re closing this establishment until further notice and a hearing to investigate under-age drinking,” the officer bellowed across the room. Other officers began to handcuff Tina, Shiela and Nyla.
Marko stepped to the side and behind a pillar. As a cop handcuffed the big round Chinaman, Marko slid outside through the galley and disappeared over the wharf wall to the briny water below where he kept a kayak tied to a pier leg. Bandit was never seen or arrested, but he bailed out all of his employees before the night was over.
Jerry tried to stay with Amanda as the crowd hurried out the front doors, but she slipped away and he found himself standing beside his bobber as other riders talked about the uproar and mounted their bikes. Most were afraid of DUIs and walked across the street to buy energy drinks at the liquor store.
Jerry’s phone rang again. “Where you at?” it shouted and he pulled it free from his Levis.
“What?”
“I told you I wanted money,” Carla slurred in her snotty fashion. “Now you might as well bring me the money. I closed your bar.”
“You what?” Jerry spat.
“I called the ABC and told them I’m 18 and drink there all the time,” Carla said and hung up.
“Fuck,” Jerry said hanging up his phone and straddling his black and gold bobber.
“You brought one of your bitch ol’ ladies again,” Frankie said watching all the patrons leave.
“I suppose you’re right,” Jerry said kicking the Shovelhead. “I’m sorry man.”
“You need to take control of the situation, not let the situation control you,” Frankie said and pushed the broom toward the shed behind the Cantina.
