He was a naked fakir, but he was loved by all real seekers. A queen was also deeply in love with Nagarjuna. She asked him one day to come to the palace, to be a guest in the palace. Nagarjuna went. The queen asked him a favour.



Nagarjuna said, “What do you want?”

The queen said, “I want your begging bowl.”



Nagarjuna gave it — that was the only thing he had — his begging bowl. And the queen brought a golden begging bowl, studded with diamonds and gave it to Nagarjuna. She said, “Now you keep this. I will worship the begging bowl that you have carried for years — it has some of your vibe. It will become my temple. And a man like you should not carry an ordinary wooden begging bowl — keep this golden one. I have had it made specially for you.”



It was really precious. If Nagarjuna had been an ordinary mystic he would have said, “I cannot touch it. I have renounced the world.” But for him it was all the same, so he took the bowl.



When he left the palace, a thief saw him. He could not believe his eyes: “A naked man with such a precious thing! How long can he protect it?” So the thief followed….



Nagarjuna was staying outside the town in a ruined ancient temple — no doors, no windows. It was just a ruin. The thief was very happy: “Soon Nagarjuna will have to go to sleep and there will be no difficulty — I will get the bowl.”



The thief was hiding behind a wall just outside the door — Nagarjuna threw the bowl outside the door. The thief could not believe what had happened. Nagarjuna threw it because he had watched the thief coming behind him, and he knew perfectly well that he was not coming for him — he was coming for the bowl, “So why unnecessarily let him wait? Be finished with it so he can go, and I can also rest.”



“Such a precious thing! And Nagarjuna has thrown it so easily.” The thief could not go without thanking him. He knew perfectly well that it had been thrown for him. He peeked in and he said, “Sir, accept my thanks. But you are a rare being — I cannot believe my eyes. And a great desire has arisen in me. I am wasting my life by being a thief — and there are people like you too? Can I come in and touch your feet?”



Nagarjuna laughed and he said, “Yes, that’s why I threw the bowl outside — so that you could come inside.”



The thief was trapped. The thief came in, touched the feet… and at that moment the thief was very open because he had seen that this man was no ordinary man. He was very vulnerable, open, receptive, grateful, mystified, stunned. When he touched the feet, for the first time in his life he felt the presence of the divine.



He asked Nagarjuna, “How many lives will it take for me to become like you?”



Nagarjuna said, “How many lives? — it can happen today, it can happen now!”



The thief said, “You must be kidding. How can it happen now? I am a thief, a well-known thief The whole town knows me, although they have not yet been able to catch hold of me. Even the king is afraid of me, because thrice I have entered and stolen from the treasury. They know it, but they have no proof. I am a master thief — you may not know about me because you are a stranger in these parts. How can I be transformed right now?”



And Nagarjuna said, “If in an old house for centuries there has been darkness and you bring a candle, can the darkness say, ‘For centuries and centuries I have been here — I cannot go out just because you have brought a candle in. I have lived so long’? Can the darkness give resistance? Will it make any difference whether the darkness is one day old or millions of years old.



The thief could see the point: darkness cannot resist light; when light comes, darkness disappears. Nagarjuna said, You may have been in darkness for millions of lives — that doesn’t matter — but I can give you a secret, you can light a candle in your being.”



And the thief said, “What about my profession? Have I to leave it?”



Nagarjuna said, “That is for you to decide. I am not concerned with you and your profession I can only give you the secret of how to kindle a light within your being, and then it is up to you.”



The thief said, “But whenever I have gone to any saints, they always say, ‘First stop stealing — then only can you be initiated.'”



It is said that Nagarjuna laughed and said, “You must have gone to thieves, not to saints. They know nothing. You just watch your breath — the ancient method of Buddha — just watch your breath coming in, going out. Whenever you remember, watch your breath. Even when you go to steal, when you enter into somebody’s house in the night, go on watching your breath. When you have opened the treasure and the diamonds are there, go on watching your breath, and do whatsoever you want to do — but don’t forget watching the breath.”



The thief said, “This seems to be simple. No morality? No character needed? No other requirement?”

Nagarjuna said, “Absolutely none — just watch your breath.”



And after fifteen days the thief was back, but he was a totally different man. He fell at the feet of Nagarjuna and he said, “You trapped me, and you trapped me so beautifully that I was not even able to suspect. I tried for these fifteen days — it is impossible. If I watch my breath, I cannot steal. If I steal, I cannot watch my breath. Watching the breath, I become so silent, so alert, so aware, so conscious, that even diamonds look like pebbles. You have created a difficulty for me, a dilemma. Now what am I supposed to do?”



Nagarjuna said, “Get lost! — whatsoever you want to do. If you want that silence, that peace, that bliss, that arises in you when you watch your breath, then choose that. If you think all those diamonds and gold and silver is more valuable, then choose that. That is for you to choose! Who am I to interfere in your life?”



The man said, “I cannot choose to be unconscious again. I have never known such moments. Accept me as one of your disciples, initiate me.”

Nagarjuna said, “I have initiated you already.”

Religion is based not in morality but in meditation. Religion is rooted not in character but in consciousness.

Where to start? Let’s start with saying this is another failed attempt to emulate Easy Rider but with a supposed humorous twist. Two bikers getting ready to head off to Sturgis, but they get side-tracked when one of them tries to save a dude being robbed by a couple punks, or as Keith Ball (as himself) playing a reporter, calls them, “Goons.”

After the heroics the hero is presented with his dead father’s Pan, a wishbone framed basket case, with the Easy Rider Captain America paint job and all from his mother who has stored it for decades.

With only three days to put the bike together and get on the road, a bunch of biker friends are called in to save the day. Three days later he’s rolling out but not on his dad’s wishbone Pan. He’s riding an Evo powered aftermarket, Softail frame but it does have a raked front end and the Captain America paint. His buddy is riding a newer Indian that is red but no yellow flames like the bike Hopper rode in the film; thank you for small favors.

So back to the road trip. They’re starting their trip from what seems to be Arizona. They’re not wearing helmets, but it appears they forgot to pack anything besides their handlebar rolls although at least one bike, the Indian, has a very small set of leather bags. This is important information later.

Unbeknownst to them they’re being chased by a couple completely inept hit men (think Laurel & Hardy here) going back to a stupid subplot of the movie. Along the way much, like Fonda’s character in Easy Rider, the hero has a constant change of fresh shirts.

I do have to say here that at least they didn’t completely rip off Easy Rider because they weren’t wearing spurs. After a couple really idiotic scenes involving the dummies chasing them, they pull over for a chick hitch-hiking in the middle of the desert. Now, I’ve been riding a lot of years and I do remember when girls would hitch hike, but that was decades ago in the city, not in the middle of the desert.

They pull into a gas station and the chick goes inside for some beer. She’s carrying the two sixers (now remember the two small bags that are supposed to have cloths and maybe even some tools) she drops a six pack into each one with no problem; like because they’re empty.

Back on the road and they pull over for the night, have some brews, a little weed and the honey gets naked for the heroes’ buddy. I think the best part of the whole movie are her cute little titties.

The next morning, with no explanation, the dudes are on the road without the babe. Shit, I don’t know, maybe they cooked her and ate her for breakfast. They make it to Indiana, part of the subplot, but not Sturgis and vow to each other, next year.

God help us if there’s a part 2. I also had to ask myself, how after days of riding in the desert do these guys look like they spent a winter in Alaska? No sun or wind burn, no chapped lips or nose, no Racoon eyes, I mean what the fuck?

As I told Keith, the producers should have hired him not to just be in the movie but also as a technical advisor because this flick as a biker movie really misses the mark and the plot has more holes than a drilled brake rotor.

The other sad part is that there are a couple name actors in it. I suppose everybody does what they need to do to put food on the table and some coin in the bank though.

After writing about how badly the writers/producer missed the mark I remembered a poem my mom wrote for me I think for my 40th birthday. After I read it, I looked at her and asked, “Mom, how did you write this?” She replied it was from listening to me and my buddies talking about riding and road trips.

So, what makes me so incredulous about the movie plot is how did a woman in her mid 70s figure it out and these dudes missed it. Let me know if you think she nailed it.

–Steve Bauman

We blasted to the Badlands for the Rally. We shipped Dr. Hamster’s new 1950 Pandemic project. I installed one of our cool 5-Ball Dayrolls, but we needed tools. We ended up ordering two Cruz tool kits, one for the Pandemic and one for his 1981 Evo bagger.

They were very similar, and we had a tough time deciding which one to use on which bike. We ultimately went for the one with the proper sized sparkplug socked for the Pandemic. So, for the bagger we went with the RoadTech Teardrop tool kit specifically designed for Harley-Davidsons.

RoadTech Teardrop Tool Kit for Harley-Davidson

Description

A clever zipper pouch keeps tools organized while fitting into the tear-drop box on a Softtail. The kit includes top-grade combination wrenches, an adjustable wrench, locking pliers, tire gauge, hex & torx keys, 6-in-1 screwdriver, spark plug socket and a mini ratchet and socket set.

Kit Includes

Combination Wrenches: 3/8, 7/16, 1/2, 9/16, & 10mm
Mini 1/4-inch drive ratchet with 2-inch extension

1/4 Drive Sockets: 3/8, 7/16, 1/2′, 10mm
Hex Keys: 1/8, 5/32, 3/16, 1/4, 5/16?
Star Keys: T25, T27, T40
6-in-1 Screwdriver
5/8? spark plug socket
8? Adjustable Wrench
Locking pliers
Spark plug gap gauge

Electrical Tape
Cable Ties (5 pcs.)
Mechanics Wire
Tire Pressure Gauge
Shop Towel

A tremendous amount of thought goes into the selection of tools right down to Duct tape, bailing wire and tie-wraps. When you’re out on the road and something gets loose or damaged, you need the shit to keep you up and going.

This pouch is designed to fit in old stock tool boxes or in leather or fiberglass saddlebags.

RoadTech H3 Tool Kit for Harley Davidson

Description

A complete travel tool kit solution for Harley Davidson motorcycles, the CruzTOOLS Roadtech H3 includes top-grade combination wrenches, an adjustable wrench, locking pliers, tire gauge, hex & star keys, 6 in 1 screwdriver and a mini ratchet and socket set. Exactly what you need for roadside repairs & adjustments and organized with a heavy-duty roll-up pouch.

Kit Includes

Combination Wrenches: 3/8, 7/16, 1/2, 9/16, & 10mm
Mini 1/4-inch drive ratchet with 2-inch extension
1/4 Drive Sockets: 3/8, 7/16, 1/2′, 10mm
Hex Keys: 1/8, 5/32, 3/16, 1/4, 5/16
Star Keys: T25, T27, T40
6-in-1 Screwdriver

5/8 spark plug socket
8-inch Adjustable Wrench
Locking pliers
Spark plug gap gauge
Duct Tape

Cable Ties (5 pcs.)
Mechanics Wire
Threadlocker
Tire Pressure Gauge

We carefully pulled this tool roll apart piece by piece and placed the tools in the exterior compartment of the Bandit’s Dayroll and the pocket. The tool pouch can be opened and available anytime and anyplace when we need tools. There are two benefits here.

The Cruz tool kit provides almost anything you need to handle any operation on the Pandemic Panhead. I’d bet we could tear the bike down with what we have. And the Bandit’s Day Roll allows access without digging in bags or losing tools alongside the road. The Dayroll is designed as the ultimate tool carrier, plus the end pockets are big enough for your lighters, chap stick, locks and spare keys. And it was designed to carry an extra scarf and shirt for the evening, plus night glasses and a .38 for rough neighborhoods or protests.

–Bandit

Sources

Cruz Tools
www.CruzTools.com

 

For the last 12 years Michael Lichter has put on a Motorcycles Art Exhibit for Sturgis Rally riders at various locations.

 Industry Guests had a special showing on Sunday by invitation only. The event was also open to the public for Free from 2 P.M. to 10 P.M. Saturday August 8 through Friday August 14, 2020

 This year’s show was named Heavy Mettle and like previous years included the who’s who of the motorcycle builders from around the world.

The list of custom motorcycle builders, all who have been building bikes for over 20 years and have built at least 20 were scheduled to present their masterpieces at the 2020 “Motorcycles as Art” exhibit included:

Aaron Greene, Aaron Greene Customs, Willits, CA 
Arlin Fatland, 2-Wheelers, Denver, CO
Bill Dodge, Blings Cycle, Daytona Beach, FL
Billy Lane, Choppers Inc, Nashville, TN
Brian Klock, Klock Werks, Mitchell, SD
Carl Olsen, Carl’s Cycle, Aberdeen, SD
Cole Foster, Salinas Boys, Salinas, CA
Cory Ness, Arlen Ness Enterprises, Dublin, CA
Craig Rodsmith, Rodsmith Custom Motorcycles, Grayslake, IL 
Dan “Bacon” Carr, DC Choppers, Sierra City, CA
Dave Perewitz, Perewitz Cycle Fabrication, Halifax, MA
Don Hotop, Don’s Speed Shop, Fort Madison, IA
Donnie Smith, Donnie Smith Custom Cycles, Blaine, MN
Eddie Trotta, Thunder Cycle, Fort Lauderdale, FL
Fred Cuba, Fred’s Speed and Sport, Hastings, NB
Jeff Cochran, Speedking Racing, West Harrison, IN
Jerry Covington, Covington’s Cycle City, Woodward, OK
Josh Soto, Boars Nest Choppers, Oceanside, CA
Kiwi Mike Tomas, Kiwi Indian Motorcycles, Riverside, CA
Mondo Poras, Denver’s Choppers, Reno, NV
Nicola Martini, Mr. Martini Motorcycles, Verona, Italy
Pat Patterson, Led Sled Customs, Dayton, OH
Paul Wideman, Bare Knuckle Choppers, Wright City, MO
Paul Yaffe, Paul Yaffe Originals, Phoenix, AZ
Richard Pollock, Mule Motorcycles, Poway, CA
Rick Fairless, Strokers Dallas, Dallas, TX
Roland Sands, Roland Sands Design, Los Alamitos, CA
Ron Finch, Finch’s Custom Cycles, Pontiac, MI
Russ Mitchell, Exile Cycles, Agoura Hills, CA
Steg VonHeintz, Steg’s Psycho Cycles, Downey, CA
Steve Broyles, Stevenson’s Cycle, Wayne, MI 
Steve Carpy Carpenter, Carpys Cafe Racers, La Mirada, CA
Taber Nash, Nash Motorcycle Co, Los Angeles, CA 
Tim McNamer, “Ballistic Cycles, Blue Mound, WI 
Tom Keefer, Franklin Church Choppers, York, PA
Trent Schara, Atomic Custom, Clancy, MT

Billy Lane: Blue has been with me for over two decades. I started building her in 1998, but she was shoved to the side so that I could take on other opportunities. Everyone has always called her “Blue Suicide” which, fitting as it might be, is a name I’ve avoided using. I lost a close friend in the late 1990s to suicide, and that name was always a reminder.

Michael Lichter noticed and photographed my 1999 custom, “Money Magnet,” at the Charlotte Easyriders Bike Show, after which “Money Magnet” became the breakout success that elevated me to be included, ultimately, in the company that gathers here today. “Money Magnet” sold shortly after Charlotte, but the buyer wanted an EVO engine in place of the 1972 Harley-Davidson twin-carbureted Shovelhead. It was this ’72 that went into the bones of “Blue.”

It sat in a corner as I went back to work on “Devil-in-a-Red-Dress”, “Knuckle Sandwich”, and “Psycho Billy Cadillac”. When I got back to completing “Blue”, she took Best of Show at the 2000 Columbus Invitational Easyriders Show before I even had time to have the flames shot on the tank. Not long after, my brother George dropped a brown bag of cash on my desk and said, “Blue is mine!” to which I agreed, and she left me for the first time. George wrecked “Blue” repeatedly, so I see her beauty in her scars. And somehow, “Blue” keeps coming back to me and she keeps getting more and more scars!

She fell out of my pickup truck after one rescue, was wrecked by another friend in Sturgis, was stolen in Miami and very sketchily recovered. We ripped countless wheelies at the 100th in Milwaukee, and she became my west coast ride at Mondo’s Denver’s Choppers in Vegas and Jesse James’ West Coast Choppers in Long Beach.

When I went to prison in 2009, I thought Blue might be gone forever, but she came back to me this last time in 2015. She’s very simple, and I still think her lines make a helluva lot of sense. When I look at “Blue”, she reminds me of the mid 1990’s. She’s my longest relationship. Indian Larry told me “Blue” was his favorite of my customs, so I’ll leave you with that.

Brian Klock: This bobber was built for the 2004 “Bob’s Back” exhibition when it was still being staged at the Journey Museum in Rapid City. Michael’s challenge to me at that time was to build a twin cam that would be able to participate and hold up alongside all the Knuckleheads & Panheads from the greatest builders out there. Due to a number of factors, we ended up building this bike in 10-days to capitalize on the opportunity.

The bike you see before you started life as a 2000 Springer and was owned by my good friend Greg Wick. Just as they made a bobber back in the day, we trimmed it down to its bare essentials. Features include a hot rod 95 ci motor, Works shocks, and a twist clutch, all of which make it now my personal favorite bike. (Greg was kind enough to sell it to me.)

Cole Foster: This bike was the second Flathead I did for Chris Huber, the first was a round-town bar-hopper whereas this one is a real road cruiser. I enjoy working with Chris because he has great taste, gives me good input, but also gives me plenty of free reins. While we all may start with the same ingredients, we all cook them a little differently. A basic stock 1941 Harley-Davidson Flathead that I created a convertible for, so sometimes it goes out with bobbed rear fender and 21” up front without a fender, but you are seeing it before you full fendered in its cruiser configuration. The fuel tank was made from scratch as a nod to the 1930s, the speedo is an original Model T, I made the seat pan, exhaust, tail light, handlebars and messed with / massaged everything else on the bike.

For over 3-decades (4-decades if you count the bicycles I chopped), I’ve built both top-level hotrods and custom bikes out of my shop in Salinas, CA. Salinas and the Central Coast of California is a great place to be doing this work with its amazing landscape, weather, and the motorhead history the area has. (Think Steinbeck’s “East of Eden” with James Dean.)

I never thought I could do this for a living let alone travel around the world many times over. As far as I’m concerned, I feel like I’ve lived a charmed life. I get to do what I’ve always wanted to do, with friends everywhere I go, and land in places doing things I could have never imagined.

 

 Bill Dodge: Back into 2000 when I built this bike, the motorcycle world was all about fat tires, big shiny motors, and so on. I wanted something that was more fun and that reminded me of those times when Larry and I rode the back roads around Sturgis. To make this happen, I asked my friends Mark and Hector who worked in the shop with me at the time, to make me a skinny tire zero-stretch CFL frame. Right about the same time, Charlie from S&S approached me about a new 93 ci generator Shovelhead engine they were prototyping and so they hooked me up with one. (A second engine they were working on went to my good friend Johnny Chop.) As for the tranny, I was working with Bert Baker on a new project that ended up being called the Frankentrans, which is a kick-only spline-shaft style transmission with hydraulic clutch actuation. For the front end, I was very honored that Warren Lane got me a 23” front wheel like he had been using, the first one he ever sold, and of course the first of 23” wheels I have used on my bikes in the years since.

These are just a few of the details that went into starting this project. There is so much more, I feel I could go on forever. Basically, it was so much fun to build this bike and such a piece of history at the time. Obviously, my style has continued in this direction right to my present motorcycles.

I think the reason I love building bikes so much is the sheer happiness I get from the people I build them for. Somehow, they’ve all turned into family, and this is what drives me every day. It doesn’t matter what type of bike it is, chopper, dirtbike, sportbike… I pour my soul into each one. For that matter. as long as I get to make someone happy, and make the coolest thing that I can – I’m in!

If you look hard, you can see my soul in this bike. Putting it in there is what really makes me go.

 

Aaron Greene: The custom bike building path is not always the easiest one. On three different occasions since 1997, I have given up creature comforts to live in my shop, or in a cabover camper, to make sure I followed my passion first and kept my shop going. Why? Because, simply put, bringing life to the ideas in my mind literally feeds my soul. This is my own form of therapy within a world that keeps building squares, but hungers for curves. This passion for machining, fabricating, shaping a new creation, and allowing that creation to take root in the minds of those who stand before it is what has always kept me going. And now…”Cherry Bomb”. The bike you see before you was built for the 2005 Easyriders Celebrity Bike Tour.

I have long been entrenched in the Hot Rod culture and Hot Rod Harleys. I wanted an over-the-top, custom built, power driven hot rod with an outlandish motor. The manifestation of that inspiration came in conjunction with the launch of our newly patented HCH frame, which was able to accommodate the wider tires being built then. The HCH frame was the natural choice for the backbone of this incredible bike. We had already created the first 280mm bike, but here with “Cherry Bomb”, we pushed it even further, becoming the first ever built with a 330mm rear tire. We pioneered new territory by pairing unbelievable power with the far-reaching custom chopper feel, including an insane hand-crafted tank, and our patented integrated hard lines and offset bearing support.

“Cherry Bomb” is chock-full of our one-off custom parts throughout and comes fully into view with a brilliant in-house hot rod custom paint scheme. Please feel free to take a picture and share with your family. Aaron Greene (2020)

 

Don Hotop: He built his first custom back in 1973 and he’s been building them ever since. (Out of his Don’s Speed & Custom since 1975.) The Auction Special, as he calls this bar-hopper is a recent build using a Revtech 110 ci engine in a Daytec rigid frame and was in the Heavy Mettle exhibition at the Sturgis Buffalo Chip. Don wrote about his career; “I built my first full up custom in 1973 and then opened my own shop in 1975. I was never particularly interested in what is trendy, but rather, just built bikes to ride with lots of attention to detail.

In my entire career, I have only entered two bike shows. Whether at these shows, or more likely when I, or a customer, was out riding one of my bikes, parts that I designed caught the eye of people at Drag Specialties. In the many years since, we have developed a close working relationship where I do my design and Drag manufactures (and sells) my parts.

I’ve survived the many ups and downs of the economy through hard work, long hours and dependable bikes, that you can ride. Like I always tell people that I build bikes for. It’s not for show, JUST RIDE IT!”

 

 Cory Ness: Our family has been in the motorcycle business for 50-years. Fueled by pure passion for custom motorcycles, we have all worked hard, but like all businesses, there have been many ups and downs. Nothing has been taken for granted and we are still learning every day. We are constantly making changes to survive in this business and will continue to carry on my dad’s legacy as long as humanly possible and to this end, I will pour my heart into making the best customs I can.

The custom you see here today was a build I have wanted to do for some time. When Indian Motorcycles was re-launched by Polaris in 2014, many builders were customizing them, but the Ness family stayed away from the brand due to our business alliance with Victory Motorcycles, as it was also owned by Polaris. When Polaris eventually decided to go with Indian exclusively, it opened the door to this project.

Starting with a wrecked 2014 Indian Vintage, I kept the engine assembly and a few key electronics and that was about it. Everything else was hand fabricated or CNC machined. The bike features traditional Digger styling that my dad perfected back in the day. It has lean minimalistic design that features a single-sided front and rear suspension with 23″ offset-style billet spoke wheels. Another design feature of the bike is the small steel tubing used throughout the bike. I started with the gas tank mounts and instead of hiding them as we do on 99% of our builds, I chose to have them be in your face as a design que. I was so happy how they came out that I decided to use that tubing throughout the build. If you keep looking, you’ll see lots of details like this throughout the bike.

This was a very challenging build when it came to hiding all the electronics a new Indian is equipped with. Since I wanted an open space under the seat, I had to find a new home for many large components such as the electronic computer module, electronic throttle to cable converter, external fuel pump and much more.

Lots of thanks to our crew at Arlen Ness Motorcycles and a big thank you to everyone for their support throughout the years. We could not have done this without you.

 Some of the other motorcycles in the show that were very qualified but I do not have any information on are.

 

This year’s show included artwork by Scott Jacobs, David Uhl and Michael Lichter

 

Scott Jacobs: With a career now spanning three decades and counting, artist Scott Jacobs has consistently reached and then surpassed new heights. First recognized by Harley-Davidson Motor Company for his artistic talent, he was signed by them to a long-term fine art program in 1993. Since then, Scott has expanded into different genres entering himself into the mainstream of the fine art community. Included on that list is imagery of Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, Corvette, Ford GT and Mustang, exotic cars, wine still life’s, flowers, and many more.

The common theme of his work; regardless of the subject is his hyper-photorealism. It is his mastery of this style that has enamored audiences around the globe. People from the West Coast to Eastern Europe and beyond enjoy his work as it currently hangs in more than 90 countries and has been displayed in over 30 museums.

Scott’s medium of choice is acrylic and oil paint on Belgian linen and his tool is a paintbrush smaller than a pencil. Scott works from photographs but draws each and every subject out freehand with a pencil. He then begins the blocking in process and blending of multiple colors to achieve the desired values for a particular work. It is an arduous procedure that few artists would dare undertake. His reward is witnessing his collectors’ reaction when they see the finished product for the first time. With that, Scott has had a career of success few artists can claim.

After years of achievement as an artist, Scott decided to get back into the retail business by opening a large gallery in Deadwood, SD called the “Jacobs Gallery”. This is a place where the public can view Scott’s originals, large collection of vintage motorcycles, limited edition prints, and his very own apparel line. The gallery also includes a studio where Scott paints when he’s not traveling the world making appearances.

 

Michael did not make it to his show this year and the position of Master Of Ceremony’s was taken over by Chris Callen the editor of Cycle Source Magazine and I do not think a more qualified person could have been chosen.

Though the motorcycles are they main part of this get together it is also an opportunity for many in the industry to gather for so socializing and catching up with what is going on in each other’s lives and the world we live in.

 

 This article includes statements from the builders, Scott Jacobs and Michael Lichter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey,

This is a test with Sam’s Picks of the Week as a backdrop. I’ve been bugged about a book about my life. But my life is checkered with ups and down and violent does and don’ts. So, this is sort of an attempt at an outline or rough story line. There won’t be a lot of description, just brief reflections on events.

I’ve bobbed and weaved and been damn lucky in so many respects. It’s like riding a fast motorcycle. Some guys can’t ride around a city-block without ending in a bone-jarring accident. A buddy of mine called today and talked about a biker’s walk. It’s an interesting gate or wobble with all the broken bones and a painful history of asphalt torn ligaments.

Some guys can’t get drunk without being beat to death by some gang behind a bar. Somehow, I survived a handful of such encounters even when I wasn’t drunk.

George Christie wrote a book and pissed off everyone. Then he switched it to fiction and some guys are trying to make a biker series about it in Spain. The Covid held up the shoot schedule, but they built a cast, and after Sturgis proved Freedom and motorcycles are better than masks, they set a shooting schedule starting in October.

I know George was sorta pissed at the club after being a member for 35 years he thought he could retire but got kicked to the curb, so his sizzling attitude guided his book effort. Survival was also a factor. There is no Hells Angel pension plan.

I strolled into a Chinese restaurant in the late ‘70s and opened a fortune cookie. The crumpled fortune cookie unraveled to declare, “You Will Be Lucky for Life!” I carried that glorious puppy in various leather wallets for 40 some years. Okay, fuck it. Let’s get started:

I grew up with violent parents who didn’t allow disrespect in any form and swatted and whipped my brother and I until we escaped. At five I started to run away. At 16 I tried it again. At 18 I succeeded and escaped to Vietnam for three tours aboard the 1st fleet flag ship, the St. Paul, a heavy cruiser. My brother did the same a year later. He ended up a captain of a river boat in Cambodia. Neither one of us wanted to have children, although I had a girlfriend who surprised me with my only son Frank. I wasn’t much of a father, mostly gone, being a biker.

My brother and I didn’t want to have kids, because in no way would we ever put a kid through what we went through. My brother responded to the violence differently than I did. That’s one of those massive lessons in life. No matter how I look at something, nobody else has the same slanted view of what happened. Nobody reacts the same way.

My dad was tough as nails and worked running a machine shop in the oil fields. Nobody fucked with him. He was a Seabee, WWII, Guadalcanal veteran. He liked to say, “If we fight, we fight to the death.” At about four my stepbrother was electrocuted flying model airplanes in Bakersfield, and that made me the oldest. A couple of years later my uncle and his son were assassinated in their sporting goods store in downtown Long Beach. My dad made them lead sinkers to sell as they struggled to make a go of it in the ‘50s.

Most of our violence came from threats, smacks, belts and punches from our parents. As teenagers my brother and I fought constantly, perhaps to relieve the tension. We had a cabin in Trabuco canyon, just down for Cook’s corner. One weekend I almost beat my brother to death in that cabin. He had a strange defeatist notion in violent situations and refused fight. “I’m not going to fight you, but fuck you anyway,” he’d tell someone. That got him into a couple of jams. Now that I think about it, that’s what my parents taught us, when it came to interactions with them. We could never speak up or defend ourselves. That’s maybe why I’m terrified of public speaking.

Once David did his thing in a black neighborhood where we were making up for bad algebra grades, during a sizzling summer school class. I had to escort him to classes for the rest of the semester.

I didn’t like fighting, but there was a violent edge to my surroundings, and I wouldn’t duck out, as much as I wanted to. I was in a High School fraternity for a short spell and we were fucked with by another club. I’ll never forget sitting in a lowered car in one of the first Mac Donald’s waiting for the gang to arrive.

We ended up face to face is a parking lot somewhere outside a school, in 1964, with tire irons and clubs. Our leader chose-off the leader of the other group and he backed down. We probably looked sorta tough, even if we didn’t feel it. I left the fraternity and bought my first motorcycle, a Honda 55 super cub and immediately wanted to customize it. Maybe I wanted to escape, and motorcycles became the path.

There weren’t many bike guys at our high school. My dad would not help with my used purchase, in fact he hated bikers and told me a story about a biker. Dad was a John Wayne time, neat and clean shaven. He drove the same way to work daily for 40 years, and a biker showed up one day on a new Triumph. As the months passed the kid’s hair grew, he grew facial hair and modified his motorcycle. One day he went down in some oil in front of my dad. He pulled over and confronted the kid on the concrete scrambling to get out from under his bike. “Are you alright?” My dad asked.

“Yes sir,” the kid said.

“Well, it serves you right,” my dad said, “you son of a bitch.”

I started to understand that I wasn’t a joiner, or I was constantly disappointed in groups of folks. They turned on each other. Like cops you call for help. They’re not going to go fuck with your neighbor, but if you have a joint in your ashtray you could go to jail.

I joined the navy, went to electronics schools on Treasure Island in Oakland, then to Vietnam where we bombed the shit out of the coast for three years. Sailors got drunk and into fights on the busses back and forth to whatever base we were docked at in Japan or Bangkok. Drinking wasn’t my thing, but girls were. I would rather find solace with a young prostitute that sit with a bunch of guys and get shit-faced.

I started to work out with weights, and I boxed some. I started training with some guys in the helicopter hanger in the stern of the heavy cruiser. It was mostly fun and good for us until they announced the smoker competition. Then shit got sorta serious. There was a giant black guy with monster arms who taunted me constantly, then the bastard didn’t sign up for the heavyweight bout. Again, I was scared shitless, but ready to go three rounds with the big guy.

Again, that notion of perception seemed to loom. I didn’t know it, but I was on a search for something. My first tour was short but like war. We went to general-quarters a couple of times a day and raced toward the coast. We could hear the artillery firing back at us as we swung to the port and unleashed nine 8-inch gun salvos at the coast. We were hit once, a hole the size of a Toyota compact in the side of the bow. During the second 7-month tour, I was determined to buy a new 1969 Sportster, which I did at Long Beach Harley when we returned.

This time the captain had a mission to shower Vietnam with more shells than anyone had ever dropped on this little sweaty, lush green country. Must have been a competition to become Admiral. I fucked up over sound powered phones, while in the command center. The Captain called me to the bridge, and I was forced to stand at his side for a few hours, while he told me how hard he worked. I was wearing a dungaree shirt with a peace sign drawn with a felt pen over my chevron. It didn’t go well and on my next report they used impunity in my description.

A few brothers started to get together to smoke a joint and listen to In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida and the wild toons from the era. We huddled in the back of an 8-inch gun turret. When another turret fired our record needle jumped across the vinyl. We had to find another stash for our weights and went back to training in confined spaces.

In a gadda da vida, honey
Don’t you know that I’m lovin’ you
In a gadda da vida, baby
Don’t you know that I’ll always be true
Oh, won’t you come with me
And take my hand
Oh, won’t you come with me
And walk this land
Please take my hand
In a gadda da vida, honey
Don’t you know that I’m lovin’ you
In a gadda da vida, baby
Don’t…
Oh, won’t you come with me
And take my hand
Oh, won’t you come with me
And walk this land
Please take my hand

During one of our many stops in Subic Bay the town of 300 nightclub/brothels and three restaurants, I had to rescue some of my shipmates from a wild riot in the dirty streets.

I got a sense of some notorious situations and sometimes found myself lucky to know when to turn the flame down or pull back. We ultimately dropped 87,000 rounds on the Coast of Vietnam in 1968.

When I returned, I hit Long Beach Harley, quick, on a Monday. They were closed. I also went to Bank of America for a loan. “We won’t give you a loan for two reasons: You’re in the service and it’s for a motorcycle.” I never did business with BOA again and my dad pulled all his accounts after 30 years of business.

I started to see a girl and fell in love. She was soft as satin with a heart of gold. We were stationed in San Diego and I rode that Sportster back and forth to Long Beach at the drop of a hat. I rode in the fog and almost fell asleep. I rode in the rain. I rode in the cold and I rode every path I could come up with to get to her side for even a few hours. One path led off a short cliff into scattered underbrush.

I didn’t know shit about Harleys, but I knew the oil fields, a machine shop, welding and wrenching. I started to learn motorcycles, quick. It was a kick-only XLCH and I didn’t get the Tillotsen carb. I flooded it every time and sometimes kicked for an hour, until it warmed up.

I got married for the first time to this delightful woman, Laurie and headed out to Vietnam again. My mother wasn’t happy. Laurie’s father was a salesman and her mother was fooling around on him. The whole family went to hell.

After my third tour I couldn’t wait to ride. Laurie, who would come out on the porch and start to cry anytime I peeled out with a group of riders. She took my photo on the Sportster, which I had painted while I was gone. I had the forks extended and my dad and I extended the risers. There was a transformation in our society. Dad, who believed the government could do no wrong shifted as we neared the late ‘60s.

I looked like a monkey fucking a football and immediately sold the Sportster and bought a 1966 Long Beach Cop bike, a Shovelhead. I immediately started to tear it down. I had a burning desire to do everything myself and tried. When brothers were scrambling to make it to the next Grateful Dead concert, I worked on bikes for friends and myself.

I was still searching for something bigger than myself. It was in most part, right at my fingertips, two-wheeled creativity. As a kid my folks forced my brother and myself to attend church. “We don’t care what church you go to, just get up and go to church!”

We begrudgingly hauled our scrawny asses to one church after another. The Catholic church intimidated us; other churches didn’t feel real. We kept looking until we found a little Lutheran church a few blocks away. I settled in and studied the bible, became a choir boy and was ultimately baptized. Laurie was a born-again Christian and I started to question organized religion.

I questioned a lot of shit through my life. I question the notion of Climate Change and started to study the facts. It seemed correct but had holes and was ultimately all about control and they used lies to support it. Two things stood tall for long run, Freedom and motorcycles.

Finally, when the St. Paul announced a fourth tour to Vietnam, I had to escape that big gray bastard. The company kiss-ass was offered a new assignment on a small destroyer, the USS Maddox, purportedly headed back to the dying conflict even sooner.

[photo 1014013]

I researched it and discovered its new assignment as a reserve training tin can. I took the orders and held my mud until the day I loaded my seabag and hit the road. For the rest of my naval stretch, I was stationed in my hometown, Long Beach. 

Okay, what do you think so far? This is a fascinating exercise. It’s a search for the meaning of life. I’m constantly studying writing and I ran across a lecture series by James Scott Bell. This guy is sharp and I’m trying to follow his code of the west, which brings up a larger topic: my fucking life and everyone’s life.

–Bandit

As I was preparing for my trip to Sturgis, for the rally, I decided I needed a new helmet. Besides the normal reasons I wanted to upgrade to one that handled rain better.

I had been using a full helmet with a snap-on, flip-up face shield, and it just was not doing what I wanted it to. I always seem to get caught in one of them heavy rains where you can hardly see the road and there is really nowhere to stop. It takes a lot of fun out of the ride.

I started researching helmets, and I came across the Harley-Davidson Boom-Audio NO2 Full-Face Helmet.

 It is made of a fiberglass composite and weighs about 3 pounds 12 ounces. It has a washable removable liner and standard Double D-ring chin strap and of course meets all the Dot FMVSS 218 safety standards.

 It also has chin and forehead cooling vents, which I later found to be very desirable during the heat of the day, by allowing some cool air to enter. There is also an exit vent on the back of the helmet.

The helmet has a battery in it that must be charged before it is used. Simply plug the supplied cord into the helmet and wait for the red light to come on. When the blue light comes on, the battery is fully charged. I do not know how long the battery lasts as it worked all day for me. I ran through 10-12 hours of riding, and the only time I turned it off was when stopping for gas and I took the helmet off. I charged this helmet overnight and was good to go again.

 Since I have my son Dale program my cell phone, I took him the helmet and my phone. He had a Blue Tooth allowing for all kinds of communications. This allowed me to listen to the music from my cell phone, and even though I do not take calls or talk on the phone while riding, that was an option as well.

 For those who are interested, it will let you communicate with other people you are riding with, get GPS information and all kinds of cool, confusing and distracting things. Beware!

 As it turned out the radio on my motorcycle stopped working the day before I was scheduled to leave, so it turned out choosing this helmet was a good idea.

 I was impressed with the sound and less noise and wind noise reduction. The controls on the helmet were very easy to operate even with my gloves on.

 And YES, I did hit a lot of rain during different parts of the trip and the helmet did its job perfectly, allowing me to see the road ahead of me. With with the new H-D helmet and my Harley Rain Gear I stayed dry as well.

 Like the songs says – I had a long way to go and a short time to get there. The helmet and rain gear made all the difference. Plus being able to listen to music while doing it, was like having Ice Cream with The Cake.

 Prior to getting this helmet I went to my local Harley Dealer and tried it on. I usually wear a X Large. The X Large was a little tight going on but fit well once it was on. Taking it off was a problem, getting caught on my ears. The sales lady assured me that would go away after I had worn it for a while. After my 6000-mile trip to Sturgis and back I never mastered the way to remove it. I suspect I should have ordered a 2X Large. This is definitely MY BAD. I am only mentioning this because Due to strict DOT safety and health restrictions helmets may not be returned or exchanged.

 I am going to recommend that if you are looking for a Full-Face Helmet this one should be at the top of your list. Just try a few on to make sure it fits you properly.

 To find out more about this helmet go to https://www.harley-davidson.com/us/en/shop/boom-audio-n02-full-face-helmet/p/98208-20VX

 

 

 

Recently I was on a ride from South Carolina to Sturgis (and then on to Colorado). One of the crew, my friend Biji, is one of those guys who has been a motorhead since Moses came down from the mountain with the stone tablets, and he’s studied M8s since they came on the scene.

We have all heard about the early M8 engines having a problem with oil transfer from the transmission to the primary case. The obvious result is not enough oil in the transmission and too much in the primary. We have also heard that Harley fixed that problem on newer models. I thought my new 2019 Glide should be good-to-go. However, Biji said that wasn’t the case and each of us needed to check our transmission oil.

I’ll start by saying this sucks to write about. I am a die-hard Harley guy. I’m not just invested in these bikes. I’m all in. I work on my own bike. I read Harley-Davidson history, hung out with great builders, built bobber, ran chopper events, rode cross country all around Harleys. Possibly, the main reasons I ride a Harley is the Chopper Culture. We like to work on our bikes. Most of us don’t work on our own cars anymore. This is one of the last bastions of man and machine. Hell, the government wants to make it against the law to work on shit.

OK, so I am on this road trip, and I go to check the transmission oil. Through the years I have assembled a very minimalist tool kit that is amazingly small and time and time again this tool kit has had everything I need. I grab it and I realize I don’t carry a 3/8” Allen wrench.

That is a big, heavy Allen wrench to need actually. It didn’t even register when I was in my shop but on the road it’s an issue. So, I am out on the road and I’m like well… I guess I will need a bigger tool bag and add that. However, in the back of my mind the first question is, why? Shouldn’t I be able to check the transmission oil level without a huge Allen wrench?

And speaking of tool kits why can’t the factory design a bike that is serviced with either metric OR SAE tools? The mix of SAE and metric is incredibly annoying. If we worked as service technicians every day at a dealership we would remember which bolts, etcetera are metric and which ones are standard but we don’t. This is our hobby, not our profession. Pick one. I’ll still believe it’s a Harley even if every nut and bolt is metric.

I check the dipstick and the oil isn’t touching the dipstick. I just serviced the bike before I left and it was touching the dipstick then. OK, so off to the dealership for 1 quart of H-D transmission oil which is over 20$.

The process of adding transmission oil on the road is really difficult. Seriously more difficult to do on a road trip than it should be. Screw the dipstick all the way out, add an ounce. Screw the dipstick all the way in. Then, screw it all the way back out and look at it. Add an ounce of oil (and by the way you probably need a funnel). Repeat it all again. Repeat. Again. I did this ELEVEN times.

I had to take off the derby cover on the primary and confirm that the oil was high. It made a mess. Guessing I spilled a couple ounces of oil, I began searching for a way to measure eight-ounces and a jar to drain the extra oil from the primary.

Should this even be a thing? A Sportster (or an Indian for that matter) has one type of oil for the engine, transmission and primary. Hmmm.

Biji was right and my bike had the problem, but I was told H-D had the fix figured out now. One that actually works. I’m told there is a recall and the dealership will take care of everything (as they should).

However, as directed from on-high by Milwaukee, the oil transfer is only a problem if a bike transfered more than 5 ounces of oil in five -thousand miles. Two times. So, running a H-D transmission four-ounces low on oil, repeatedly, forever, is never an issue?? Hmmm.

I ask the service manager, “Do the technicians measure how much oil was in the transmission when they drain the transmission to service the bikes?”

He says, “Absolutely.”

Trouble is, that isn’t true. I have been asking every service tech I know or meet. The answer is always the same. It saves time to drain all three types of oil at one time and it all goes to the same soiled tub.

So how would anyone (who has their bike serviced at a dealership) ever know their bike is, “transferring more than five ounces of oil in 5,000 miles?” In theory, a good tech will look at the primary oil level in the little opening when the derby cover is off and the technician can look through this little gap and with micrometer like vision, see if 4.9 ounces of oil transferred (no problem) or 5.1 ounces of oil transferred (and make a note for the recall). It’s ridiculous.

More realistically, here’s the solution. If, when the derby is removed oil pours out onto the lift, making a mess, done deal. There’s a problem. And if the primary oil doesn’t make a mess when the tech takes off the derby cover, your bike is never getting fixed.

Anyway, my bike transfered more than five ounces. Oil spilled out of the derby cover on the five-thousand-mile service—done deal. Now I know why. I asked for an appointment for my bike to be fixed under the recall.

The Colorado dealership service manager then explained the dealership will NOT fix the bike under the recall unless three conditions are met.

1) The bike must be serviced at an H-D dealership two times

2) The dealership noted that more than five ounces of oil transferred both times.

3) That you have at least three children and a wife in your family and they all own Harleys.

I explained I work on the bike myself. He (without laughing) told me to take it to the dealership for the next two services and then they will honor the recall. The service is only about $ 550 each time. Wait. What??

I explained, I ride a Harley because I like to do my own service. He said they can install the recall kit but they will charge me about $240. (Since I’m on the road). He even added at some point in the conversation that it is dangerous not to fix the problem. Now, I am just fuming mad. I stay polite but it isn’t easy. The dealership refuses to fix with the recall, because I service the bike myself. If you’re interest look up Right to Work laws.

The service manager calls Milwaukee, and then offers to change just the transmission and primary oil for me, and make a note, but I would need to pay full price for that. At least it breaks the tension and I’m starting to laugh. Wow. Thanks!

This, of course, isn’t legal for Harley-Davidson to do. I’m never going to sue them, obviously, but I would win if I did. It’s just not worth the money or effort to make the point.

Eventually, I am at a place where I can install the recall kit. Part #26500027. Looking at the kit, I’m guessing the few items in the kit probably cost H-D about five dollars. The dealership charged me $50 for the parts to fix the recall. Really?

Here is the thing. No one needs this kit if the motorcycle wasn’t screwed up when it came out of Milwaukee. Does Harley- Davidson really need to make a profit on a recall? Wait, that’s a stupid question.

Thirty years ago, when people asked why you ride a Harley the canned answer was, “If I have to explain you wouldn’t understand.”

If Harley-Davidson wants to know why they are losing customers all I can tell them is, “If I have to explain you wouldn’t understand.”

Anyway, I installed the recall kit. It wasn’t hard. The incredibly good H-D service manual is so well written it’s always a help. Somebody in Milwaukee really does understand the joy owners have when they service their own bikes. This is evident in the great documentation. It really is a great bike. This bike is the most smooth and powerful stock H-D I have ever owned. After an enjoyable afternoon in the garage I took a few breaths and conclude the impact on me… is just a papercut. Well, a bunch of papercuts actually. But there are so many bigger problems in the world.

None of the papercuts are so deep that the blood loss takes the orange and black tint out of my blood. It’s almost completely behind me when I take a ride on a beautiful afternoon. Almost.

However, my ride takes me past an Indian dealership and I stop, which is odd, because I have ridden right past the Indian dealership so many times before. I am back on my incredible 2019 H-D in 30 minutes and headed home but my mind wanders. Hmmm.

Dynas are tricky and handling is key. They are more popular now than ever and the later units were tougher with a new frame, 49mm front ends and cast swingarms.

That’s the way to go, but it’s also, especially with big inch twin cam engines, tougher on the stock motor mounts, which are handling keys.

If you feel your bike being pulled to the left or to the right, there’s a very good chance you power train is out of alignment. And guess what, there’s not much you can do about that with your current set up.

Motor Mounts from Custom Cycle Engineering

$499.95

Installation was a 20-minute grape. Jeremiah and James slipped his bike up on a Bikernet lift and hoisted it in the air. They used a shop jack to raise the tranny just slightly, while leaving the shocks in place. This took the pressure off the motor mount coupled from the transmission to the swingarm.

They made sure the jack would not be in the way from dropping the massive rubber mounted unit out from under the trans.

They unbolted the stock unit and dropped it down but didn’t lose track of the fasteners. The CCE unit comes with some of the fasteners but not all of them. “We like the stock Allen head self-tapping units the factory uses to the frame,” Tim, from CCE said. “They are easy to reach with an Allen socket and an extension.”

They dropped out the stock unit, cleaned the area and installed the modified, heavy-duty, rebuildable CCE rear motor-mount. Rick the previous owner wanted to add some shine to the area, so he used heavy-duty stainless fasteners to the swingarm. Our team tapped the unit another ½-inch and everything slipped back together.

The CCE unit is self-rebuildable. Any bike owner can pull his CCE unit out of his bike and add a new cast rubber unit from CCE and replace it.

“In all the time we’ve built these puppies, I’ve only helped two owners rebuild their mounts,” Tim said. “They easily last over five years.”

“I replaced the front one with a new stock unit,” James said. “Tim is helping me order the CCE front job. But even with the stock unit up front and the CCE mount in the rear my handling tightened, no more wobbles. The new unit is slightly stiffer, so I noticed some more vibration, but that may smooth out as it breaks in.”

Next, we will install the 
Dyna Front Motor Mount (05 to Present), DMM 2014-1L (2006-Present)

There you have it. Reach out to CCE regarding their mounts for Dynas and FXRs. Also, they make the finest tall rubber-mounted dog-bone risers for all Harleys. And if you need longer tubes for any glide, they have center-ground units.

–Bandit

Remember when life was simple. We thought about Weed, Whiskey, Women and of course Wheels. We didn’t much care about four wheels just two and mostly choppers.

I watched a documentary called the Social Dilemma recently, about the upsurge of unregulated social media platforms. The documentary was made up of a series of interviews from ex-social media execs and professionals in psychology, behavior, etc. They blame all the problems in our society from BLM riots, to political infighting on Facebook, twitter, YouTube and the others. They said that these companies are making more money and taking up more of your time than anything on the planet. They are basically making all their wealth off you, your habits, hobbies and personal data.

The largest factor in the equation is the lack of benefit to anyone except financial gain to them and so far, legislators have not figured out how to regulate them or protect your privacy. They admitted over and over to fake news being fed to the public all in order to keep you on the platform so they can sell ads. Okay, what the fuck am I going to do?

I don’t have anything to do with twitter and dislike Facebook, but we have a couple of accounts. I don’t go to the You tube channel, but I do look at You tubes folks send to me. Very rarely do I run a link to a You Tube clip or video on Bikernet. Bottom line, I’m going to back off my use of all these platforms as much as possible.

My grandson uses Instagram and shopify exclusively. He thinks that platform is the shit. I like content. I like to be able to go into the internet and search for something and get the whole story, not a snippet. I like to search for parts, find them easily and get back to the shop.

That depressing film examined how social media messes with kid’s minds. The conceived peer pressure is insane. Suicides have gone through the roof. Kids are afraid to do anything, afraid to go outside and afraid to get a driver’s license. They are afraid to date, to interact with other kids or trust adults.

Hell, in my day, we would jump off a building to see how it felt. I know guys who went into a bar just to see how long it took before they got into a fight. We were bikers and nuts, loaded on reds flying down a freeway on a bike held together with bailing wire. Fuck it, let’s ride.

We partied and slept on the beach, ran from the cops, slept with the mayor’s old lady, it didn’t matter. We loved being on the edge. When I was in Jr. High, we snuck into any local building or government facility that wasn’t locked down. We didn’t fuck with much, except to steal a gearshift knob. I remember running home being chased by the cops. Scared shitless, I lay in bed waiting for the cops to pound on the front door and arrest my ass.

Motorcycles were special. They were sorta violent, like a nasty long-barreled revolver and sexy like a woman. I think, if I hadn’t gotten into choppers, I would have become a pimp. It was women or custom motorcycles. With motorcycles I got a taste of both power, freedom and sex.

I had a conversation recently with a chopper-rider and family man. There was a time when the two didn’t mix well. We were too busy ripping up the streets to deal with families. My dad kicked me out, when I first became a biker. That was fine with me. If we had gone to blows, I might have hurt the nasty bastard.

So, we all ultimately got married and some brothers settled down. Some ol’ ladies forced brothers to stay away from clubs or even give up their motorcycles. Some did, some said fuck it, and rode into the sunset and into the arms of another broad.

I’m sure a lot of guys don’t like my marital record, my five wives and all the broads in between. Believe me, there are some situations I wish had slipped in a different more tender direction. Each to his own, although I do feel strongly about kids. Once you get in the kid game you need to stick around for them. It’s critical to the growth of kids. I was once on the board of directors of some group homes for abandoned boys, or kids who had alcoholic or drug addicted folks. Those homes were the last stop before detention camps.

These kids looked as if you had just chopped off one of their legs. They were incomplete without their folks. And a single mom just doesn’t have enough hours in a day to handle a couple of kids and teach them like a mom would love to.

I wish I knew where the hell I was going with this? I had a blast and never stopped. And women were my drug, like snorting a massive line of cocaine. Riding to a woman’s side was heaven on earth. Gives me chills just thinking about the lure, the touch, the chase, the adventure and the tenderness. But when I needed to peel out, the road called, and I had to move.

I woke up this morning thinking about the above topics and how they played out in Easyriders Magazine and now in the current Choppers Magazine. Something dawned on me. A couple of times I sent my books to Clint Eastwood. I felt he was the man to turn Chopper riding stories into the westerns of the 21st Century. No one ever got back to me.

In a sense, the western story line has never changed. It’s still the loner approaching an unfriendly town, run by outlaws, an unscrupulous lawman and the gangster landowner who wants it all. It’s about single characters who looked for love in all the wrong places.

In simplistic words, the Western didn’t ever change, and wasn’t forced to shift with the times. Hell, history says the old west only lasted about 20 years, before trains, planes and automobiles came into the picture. But the true western still lives on 100 years later.

Easyriders magazine tried to change with the times, and I was apart of the transition. And now the Chopper Magazine arena is being tested. The new ER owners don’t know what to do or how to do it. But in the hearts and minds of the true outlaw, we understand. In our guts we know the code of the West and still relish the symbol of the outlaw, the untamed, the never-say-die notions and creeds of the loner. In our hearts nothing has ever changed. The wind, the open road, the whiskey and the women will never stop calling us.

–Bandit

In 2012 I sold Anya the bike I learned to ride on, which was a Yamaha XS350 and I knew she had recently upgraded to a new H-D. I was in the same boat, proud owner of a purple Sportster with a flame seat and chrome junk all over it.

I didn’t care what it looked like, it was mine and I was going to ride it. Anya is a force of energy, kind, humble, and has been riding dirt bikes since the day she could walk. I was gaining my confidence and maxing out at turtle speeds around steep curves but becoming a better rider every day.

We were both fairly new to street riding. Casual conversation turned into a “Girls Weekend” of motorcycle camping in the desert of Borrego Springs. I practiced and got to know my capabilities on the grade that drops into Borrego, when I notice all the BLM land in the area.

We planned a weekend in Oct and set the location to a dry lake bed towards the Salton Sea just past Borrego. Unaware that it might have been illegal, but hey, it’s a town that doesn’t have a stoplight, so what harm could two ladies on motos be?

Excited about the weekend at hand we thought it would be a good idea to unleash a call to the lady riders we were starting to connect with on social media. We’ve seen them but never actually had the opportunity to get to know them in real life. It seemed like the perfect opportunity.

One shitty flyer, one WordPress site and one route map designed by Bill Bryant as a favor. We thought we were ready! We started reaching out to the ladies and asking them about who they were and created Roll Call. We’d tell their stories, how they got into riding, and post a picture of them with their moto. To our surprise, the responses were incredibly relatable.

My most embarrassing moments on a bike seemed to be theirs, the reasons they got into riding were incredibly similar to mine, and after reading their stories it felt like I knew them in real life. If these stories were getting us excited, who else would it reach? How awesome would it be if 10 ladies showed up?

That would be nine girls I’ve never met who liked to ride motorcycles and camp. It was mind blowing to even think about. I hadn’t been this excited about something in years. The night before the meet-up for our first moto campout dubbed Babes in Borrego, I double dosed myself with Nyquil just to get an hour of sleep.

Morning of, I packed up the bike, checked the oil and tire pressure, and hit the road to the meet-up spot with three friends who had come down from Portland. As we pulled into the Starbucks off the 79, I was amazed. There were six bikes already lined up. Ten minutes later Anya rolled up with a crew of 15, and within 20 minutes, that number shifted to 50 motorcycles.

Women had come as far as New York, Arizona, Northern California, and Oregon. This was nuts. We did a quick rundown on group riding etiquette and hit the road. I won’t go into details on the entire weekend, but I will tell you why this particular weekend sparked a movement.

To create a space where everyone is equal and eliminates all egos is impossible, but somehow it happened at Babes in Borrego. We were all there because of one reason, we loved to ride motorcycles, and that was enough. Our biggest challenge was figuring out how to keep this going down the right path, but we didn’t have to do much. The 50 ladies who came were the biggest catalyst of setting the stage for next year’s event.

Year 2:

Babes Ride Out Two, yep we were official at this point. I realized it was time to actually provide toilets and a real camping spaces. If we build it, will they actually come? Nothing to lose, so why the hell not, right?

I had stumbled upon a campsite in Joshua Tree, CA that was privately owned so Anya and I packed up and headed out to take a look. Real showers, real toilets, and actual property we could legally camp on was all we needed to sign the papers and book it.

The site was in the perfect location and offered incredible rides that looped 200 miles through some of most beautiful roads we’ve seen. Anya and I established early on that Babes Ride Out would always be a riding focused event, so every aspect of the location had to be riding centric.

If you flew into San Diego or LA you could easily rent a bike from EagleRider and hit the Sunrise HWY from the south and Angeles Crest coming from LA. You could change the scenery from desert to mountains with routes through Idyllwild and Big Bear in less than 2 hours.

We found our home and when the site owner asked us how many ladies we thought were coming for our 2nd ever event, we said “Oh no more than 150 max.” A few months later we were looking at a registration list of 500 ladies. This is the year we brought in bands, food, raffle, and more. I can remember thinking “Holy crap…a REAL band, that’s just insane! How could we ever make it better than this!?”.

Year 3:

We weren’t going anywhere. Joshua Tree, CA was now the home of Babes Ride Out. We loved the site, we loved the routes, we loved the vastness of the desert but how to we make the event better? How could we make this the best experience these ladies have ever had? Now enters Barnett English, owner of the Joshua Tree Music Festival, whom has spent 25 years creating an artistic festival space on the campground we were already on.

The space sits on 10 of the 40 acres of the property and is not visible unless you make a real effort to go off past the privacy gates. We had no idea it was there. Anya and I went out to meet him and learn about the space, his festival, and his crew that has spent years making the site what it is today.

When he opened up the doors for us to see it, we were in shock. It was perfect in every way imaginable and we were speechless. By the time we opened gates for Babes Ride Out 2015, there were 1,500 registered attendees. Women came from the UK, Japan, South Africa, South America, Canada, and all over the United States. It became, what we jokingly called, the United Nation of Babes. It truly is awe-inspiring to see that many ladies excited to be there riding so many different kinds of bikes.

Year 4 and Beyond:

We felt confident taking the Babes Ride Out experience to the east coast and the U.K. The year prior we had hosted our first free off-roading event (Babes in the Dirt) so we decided to make that event annual as well. At this time, we’ve met so many incredible ladies who we knew we could partner with to make Babes Ride Out exist past California.

With the Gypsy Run event planning to conclude after its 10th year in production Sept 2016 (better see you there!), I put in a call to Walter of Kickstart Cycle and he gave us the green light to use his favorite campground in the Catskills.

We immediately put a call out to Virginia Hall, one of the ladies who has been coming to BRO the past two years and finalized a plan. Babes Ride Out East Coast was born and on May 27th, 2016. Some 250 lady riders descended upon the Catskills and had opportunities to ride nine different routes through the green roller coasters of roads that seemed to go on endlessly.

We also reached out to the ladies of VC London who run training camps for ladies who want to learn how to ride in the metro area and Babes Ride Out U.K was put in motion. With our expansion into other regions, our biggest event remains in Joshua Tree in the Fall and should remain that way for the foreseeable future.

Why it Matters: As the % of lady riders has risen, women are finding their space within the motorcycling community and with each other. Babes Ride Out serves as a way for digital friends to become lifelong friends and gives attendees a chance to make a real connection with the brands who support them.

We will continue to do our best to create riding focused environments and partner with those who care about the longevity of motorcycling. We are committed to safe riding, introducing learning elements for new and seasoned riders as well as building up the ever-growing community of two-wheel enthusiasts.

B.R.O couldn’t do this without the help of thousands of people (men and women) who take their time and energy to help make Babes Ride Out something we never could have imagined, the most inclusive two wheel experience in the world. – Babes Ride Out
Babes Ride Out ® – est. 2013

Babes Ride Out
27636 Ynez Rd. Ste L7 #353
Temecula, CA 92591

Customer Service: info@babesrideout.com

Sponsorship Inquiries: sponsorship@babesrideout.com