The first sentence of Chapter 13 of this 16-chapter book is…..

“Solitary confinement is the worst thing one man can do to another.”

Now, since this is a “book review” and since I don’t know this guy, but I do know who he is, mostly from the “news,” once I got to the above-mentioned sentence in the course of my already having read the first 12 chapters of the book – which I was reading not to give a “report” on it but to get some familiarity with the fellow, from, ya know, his own self, rather than from the news…….where was I. Oh yeah: so I’m reading this here book, and most of it has been read and stuff, I’m almost done, and I’m goin’ along fine, and then I get to this sentence, the opening sentence of chapter 13.

“Solitary confinement is the worst thing one man can do to another.”

Now, For 12 chapters I’ve been reading about life as a Hells Angel. Which apparently isn’t a hobby. It’s a fucking job description. And I’m reading about it from one of only three Hells Angels anyone has ever heard of. Which alone should tell you that whatever a Hells Angel IS, if you’re one of the three everyone has actually HEARD about……you’re probably not just fucking bone-headed resilient like most of them are….. rather your bone-headed resilience likely grows back harder and more resilient every time some of it wears off or gets sawed off. So what i’m saying is, Christie’s pro’bly pretty resilient. He’s likely a pro’bly bounce-back kind of dude.

In other words, Christie or not, life as a Hells Angel, famous or not, no matter what degree of notoriety or lack of incognitoness you might have achieved …….well it’s not the life for me. Let’s put it that way. And I’m reading about this life from someone who not only lived the life but helped shape its direction. So, in other words, for 12 chapters I have been hearing about someone directing traffic in a 24 hour a day job, the LEAST dangerous aspect of it being riding a very large Harley in constant need of repairs that you’re going to do yourself…..at 70 miles an hour. Probably inebriated. To put it mildly: as your go-to mode of transportation. For years at a time. And somehow manage to not die….. just from that.

In other words, by the time I got to Chapter 13 I was now ass-deep inside the head of George Christie. Pro’bly not the best way to put that. Let me try that again. I was being escorted, personally, in his own words, very SENSIBLE words, I have to say, down the life-road of an enthusiastic outsider who from childhood knew he wanted to be not just an outsider but the most universally shunned outsider possible: a Harley-riding, Ensignia-Affiliation on his filthy clothes wearing, brawl first, ask questions later fraternal order of self-admitted lunatics and fuck you, but not your mom, I’ll do that personally……biker.

That’s the ilk the guy who’s story I’m listening to is running around with and in fact earning a reputation for keeping the peace among: keeping the peace among hyper-volatile, anti upwardly-mobile, indifferent to consequences, legality-mocking, enthusiastically confrontational daredevils on all levels of dares, be they man beast or terrain…..….all of which daredevils have severe anger issues ignited by very short fuses. And this is the guy keeping them in line. THAT’S who I’m reading from his own words when I get to the first sentence of chapter 13.

I’m inside this guy’s head, he’s taking me down the road of his life of relentless danger, stress, explosive personalities, he’s trodding through morasses of massive problems, to understate things, not a big deal, all part of the job, “I gut this” sort of thing, trying to keep peace and order through landscapes and wildernesses of paranoia and treachery and eternal threat from“the authorities”……..and then out of the blue comes THIS sentence:

“Solitary confinement is the worst thing one man can do to another.”

The WORST thing one man can do to another……comes at the hands of……not from the most shunned, most-considered-to-be-animals on the planet, namely bikers…….BUT FROM THE PEOPLE CLAIMING TO BE HOLDING THE MORAL AND SANCTIMONIOUS HIGH GROUND!!! GOVERNMENT PERSONNEL!!!

And this ain’t him talking. This is me editorializing. Because he – the writer – ain’t making this claim. I’M telling you this. What HE’S telling you is something different. What HE’S telling you, in very compelling simple language, is what solitary, or what the concept-warping government vocabulary kiddie language calls “Segregated Housing Unit”…. confinement does to a person. This is where that first sentence is going. What solitary does to you. And to him included.

Trust me, by the time you get to this above-referenced sentence you have long ago become totally convinced you are in the company of a fucking truth teller. And get this…..what then FOLLOWS this sentence is a humble, self-confessing litany, very soul-bearing confession of what solitary does to a person and certainly did to him. And this is an actual tough guy.

He says solitary has one function: to break you. And he says it does. It broke him. He then describes the particulars of the eventual, relentless erosion of your entire physical, mental and spiritual superstructure you may or may not have thought of as well-constructed.

So, I’ll tell you this, if he hasn’t won you over with his sincerity and honesty before you got to this chapter, this is the chapter that will cement the issue for you.



Now, his REPUTATION is of an adroit, capable analyzer of the best way to negotiate safely the biker world and the “citizenry” world with the least if not the complete absence of turmoil to both sides. This is not a vice, having this ability. This is a fucking whopping virtue. This is not a quality, if you are wise and sane, you want to squash. You want to SURROUND yourself with such people.

If you’re afraid of competence, then you’re not a leader. You’re a fool. And PROBABLY bureaucrat material. APPARENTLY – and this is me editorializing again – this is not a universally-held attitude. Apparently, a lot of people fear competence and a gift for making things better. Hence his legion of enemies, all of them stupid and the WORST ones being the ones insisting all they want is for you to be safe: The Authorities. And their way of keeping you safe is to lock you down. School shooter? Lock the kids down so they can be systematically killed and thus made safe while the authorities stand around outside doing nothing.

Flu From Nowhere? Lock everyone down so they can be kept safe from earning a living or visiting their aged relatives who are being locked down so they can stay safe from comfort and love. Your planet too dangerously hot due to you existing on it? Lock you down from escaping to a cooler clime or a cooler room by making travel a threat to the weather and making air conditioning a threat those who don’t have air conditioning by allowing you to live while they are dying: all should die in the interests of fairness.

Trespass? Lock you down. Steal a car? Lock you down. Get in a fight? Lock you down. Say a forbidden word? Lock you down. Have a dislike of a category of human? Lock you down. Own something you’re not supposed to own? Lock you down. Wearing forbidden words and cartoons on the back of your clothes? Lock you down. Kill someone? Lock you down.

Show enough sense of fair play that you start getting better press than The Authorities?…..welcome to the world of indictments, the easiest thing on earth to obtain next to getting laid in Parumph. Welcome to a “segregated housing unit.” Welcome to being kept safe enough to kill you as you scream to death with no one around.

And keep in mind when you are being relentlessly tortured by the authorities….you don’t know them and they don’t know you. This torture ain’t even personal. It’s being done by strangers….to strangers. It’s sociopathic behavior taken to almost supernatural levels. Like as though other fucking dimensions are involved. OK. I’m done.

When YOU’RE done, and you WILL read this all the way through because you won’t even know you’re reading, you’ll think George Christie came over the house and sat down in your living room and just started chatting with you – when you’re done, you won’t care what the scuttlebutt is about this fellow, which scuttlebutt SEEMED TO ME to get worse after he threatened to take the holy and sanctified member of the angelic Kennedy Family, Maria Shriver, former wife of the guy who recently during the Bad Cold Lockdown told Americans who wouldn’t wear a mask in an accent he hasn’t been able to undo in 50 years of living here to “Fhuack yu phreedum!!”..…..to court.

When you’re done reading it you will be on his side. And if he DOES show up for a chat? Invite him inside. And you won’t have to hide the silverware either. I’m CONVINCED of that.

–J.J. Solari

We reached out to George about his new book. “Look for my new book Crossing The Rubicon. It spans my 46-year relationship with Ralph “Sonny“ Barger. It will also, between chapters, be filled with short stories from my time with the Hells Angels, Satan’s Slaves and Question Marks,” George Christie.

One of the great mysteries of life on Earth is “Why are all journalists living, breathing, scum-scrapings that have been grinded and peeled off the walls of abandoned outhouses at the bottom of a ravine in Bangladesh?” In other words why are all journalists oily slithering entities made entirely out of bacteria?

We all ask that question at one time or another. Sooner or later in life it dawns on us that all journalists are not only not actually human but that whatever species they are, they’re not even good at being that. I mean they have no “outstanding examples” of themselves but rather are, each and every one of them, at the same low level of slithering, burrowing worthlessness.

Journalists have no universally admired outstanding examples of themselves. They are all, every single one, boilerplate, machine-stamped, identical reproductive copies of each other, kind of like the Borg, with only the names on their birth certificates being different, assuming they were actually birthed and not hatched in petri dishes at Dumb-Iab Industries For The De-Backboned Replicated Talentless.

Once it is brought to a non-journalist’s attention – most of whom have actual jobs, as opposed to whatever the fuck it is “writers” do – once it is brought to a normal person’s attention that journalists are all cookie-cutter imbecilic little snots – a light goes on in the normal person’s head and he goes, “Ya know what? You’re right! They ARE all little rat-like shitballs!” This is usually a happy moment for a normal person. He feels suddenly liberated and free from all fear of journalistic harassment and attempts to ruin his life down the road. Because it suddenly becomes clear that journalists are merely blood-sucking fleas and mosquitoes with none of the sterling qualities of either, neither in behavior nor in appearance.

Once a normal person receives this gift of enlightenment, usually from me, that journalists are all oily little parasites feeding off the actual accomplishments of others yet taking all the credit themselves for saving humanity from harm at the hands of this person or that person, it’s like, and I really hate to use this word, it’s like he becomes empowered. A kind of inflow of life and energy and understanding and calm and the tranquility of no longer being confused fills his spirit and a veil of darkness is removed and he looks around at all about him and he quietly rejoiceth.

Yes, It’s a beautiful thing to see this transformation in others and to experience within one’s-self.

Now, you may ask, “So tell me, good pilgrim come to Bikernet, how is it that journalists have come to acquire this hypnotic, chimera-like ability to disguise their true abominable worthless natures within a gauze, a shroud if you will, a kind of shimmering there-not-there hallucinatory magical sleight-of-hand as it were, to where those of us who are NOT journalists hold them high aloft in a special place of reverence and nobility and soft and quiet superiority of holiness and Jedi-like concern for Only Others and not themselves? How is it we have come to be this thoroughly deceived?”

Not a bad question. And very-well phrased. I have to say. I think perhaps we are going to have a productive session here during our short time together before you wander off to look at tits. Pro’bly before I’m done. Not that I’ll blame you. In fact I’ll envy you. I’ll be stuck here alone. With me.

So…..how IS it that journalists have acquired this preposterous status as living lighthouses of warning and illumination lest, we ordinary folk, we run-aground upon the rocks of ruin?

It’s because of the First Amendment. Which boldly proclaims “the freedom of the press.” And not “the freedom of apple growers.” Or “the freedom of saloon-owners.” Or “the freedom of cigarette manufacturers.”

That’s right: the “press” is the only non-government job in the whole Constitution – which is basically a job-creation edict and not a liberty-creating edict – and all the jobs are in “the public sector.” Meaning tax-supported via the private sector. It’s the dividing of America, via proclamation, into two distinct groups: the authorities, who do nothing, and the gainfully employed, who do everything.

Nothing in your house comes from anyone in the public sector. Yet the public sector is the sector everyone in the private sector is convinced is indispensable. Even though they produce and provide nothing. Except punishment.

The relentless idiotic ranting of assholes like Nancy Pelosi that we are divided as a nation in that we are not all Liberal Communist Assholes…..is typical Liberal bullshit: we were divided right out the gate by the Constitution which created the public sector – the sector that does nothing – as being the authority over the private sector – the sector that does everything.

The journalists of the time, once the Constitution, or as I call it, the re-installation of England back onto our shores, once the Constitution had its ignition switch struck to the ON position, all the journalists looked at each other smiling and grinning and said “Have you noticed, Mi Compadres, that we’re the only job that is not a government job that is mentioned in this entire 4500 word composition? It’s almost as though we have become a PART of the government.”

You may have noticed that while there is such a thing as a “Press Pass” which allows journalists almost unlimited access to government shenanigans, there is no such thing as a “Mechanics Pass” or a “Woodworker’s Pass” or a “Plumbers Pass” or a “Tree Surgeons Pass” or a “Chefs Pass” or an “Appliance Makers Pass” or a pass for any other profession not a government job other than “Press.”

You, if you have not already wandered off to look at tits, are probably musing upon this for the first time in your life. Count yourself among the blessed: most people don’t read Bikernet. Holy shit, tell me about it. You on the other hand, tit-lover and seeker of truths even beyond those of tit-truths, come to Bikernet for calming, joy, and enlightenment. And I am your reward. Can we join hands and get an amen?

Have you noticed that all “newsmen” and “reporters” and “journalists” have this air and attitude of superiority? Like as though they know that in your mind you automatically consider them to be the watchdogs of, I don’t know, oppression, government chicanery, business chicanery, evil-doer chicanery, ordinary-citizen chicanery, as though they are prowling, watchful, ever-vigilant lookouts for naughtiness in every corner and back alley of human existence? They’re not. They’re failed novelists, who, having failed at the actual craft of writing genuinely artistic fiction, have, almost subconsciously, slogged and drunkenly staggered over to the thing called “freedom of the press” to write a rather low-grade version of fiction-writing called “the news.”

There they write distorted versions of reality that non-journalists regard as truth, since, being “the press,” they have Constitutional Sanctity, as does the President, and Congress, and all the other created-out-of-thin-air entities itemized and rambled-on about in the Constitution, which was PROBABLY written by failed novelists since something called The Supreme Court has spent a couple hundred years trying to decide what the Constitution ACTUALLY says. One reason this being necessary is because I didn’t write it. Otherwise it wouldn’t need “interpreting.” You don’t need to interpret THIS do you? There ya go.

You’ll notice successful novelists never become journalists. Have you noticed? They don’t need to. They have succeeded at fiction-writing. When you open a novel and set-in to read it you know right out the gate you are going to be bombarded with lies from one end of the book to the other. Fake conversations, fake events, fake people, fake threats, fake solutions, fake locations, fake weather…..there ain’t gonna be a word of fucking truth anywhere to be found and in fact the name o’ the mother fucker who wrote it might be fake! No one cares.

That’s what you pay for. That’s what you want. You want fucking make-believe so you can escape from your own shitty existence and eavesdrop and spy on some fake guy’s shitty but still more interesting existence than your own. What makes fiction writing INTERESTING is called “writing talent.” Something journalists do not have. In fact they are abysmally devoid of this commodity. No successful novelist or short-story fiction writer or successful script-writer ever “moves on and advances to” journalism.

Going from “Successful Fictioneer” to journalism as a living is not an advancement. It’s a huge fucking step down. It’s if anything, sliding from success into failure. You do not need ANY writing talent to become a journalist. You need SOME talent, sure, say, maybe, for instance, a talent for tossing guilt around onto people who are not guilty of anything, or you need to be a talented fucking asshole, for instance.

But you don’t need any WRITING talent. In fact if you HAD any writing talent you could not BECOME a journalist. The job is that restrictive of actual writing talent. It’s as though only the talentless can walk through the permanently implaced talent-restrictor barrier with complete impunity and nonchalance with welcoming signs all around and well wishers sweeping their arms sideways to usher him on his way to frustration, alcoholism and eternal obscurity where he will join all the failed novelists before him as they, en masse devote themselves to deceiving their clueless, gullible audiences who, because of the First Amendment, are convinced journalists are the 8th Choir of Angels sent here from Heaven and from the very prayer room of Jesus to guide America into Paradise.

They are in fact low-grade pimps from the upper circles of Hell with you as their whores, working their way down to Satan’s Lair where, with Satan, they can kick cans down the road for eternity in ever-mounting frustration.

Now earlier I mentioned that when the Constitution had sputtered into existence (which it now is operating at full fucking throttle) it was at that moment all the journalists looked at each other and realized that “the press” was the only non-government job in the Constitution to be mentioned in a litany of government jobs that WERE mentioned in the Constitution. It was then that the journalists, or failed novelists, all looked at each other cunningly and said all at once and all together “We’re part of the government.”

It didn’t matter that they weren’t actually part of the government, they knew that everyone would ASSUME they were because, as you know, the Constitution is a perfect living document of utter and resolute perfection and would not have granted freedom of the press and not freedom of toilet manufacturing as one of the Rights were it not for the obvious to you and to Jesus fact that “the press” was in fact the only assurance that government, should it stray from its divine and noble path, would be nudged back onto its rightful direction. Thanks to the randomly-assembled Constitution – forever being interpreted and reinterpreted in courts of law – in declaring “the press” – the sole actual job-description mentioned in the entire litany of government jobs created out of thin air…… to be subconsciously regarded by all and with great piousness as a department of government.

IN FACT the press itself has actually promoted itself into a category of something called The Fourth Estate. That’s right, like Hollywood giving itself rewards, the press has declared itself “The Fourth Estate,” the first three being, as created by British Hacks a million years ago, the nobility, the clergy, and the commoners. The Press then declared themselves the 4th Estate and apparently no one said shit about it. Pro’bly out of fear of being interviewed by Anderson Cooper, a journalist. In reality the Press is the estate now controlling the other three Estates and as such is more corrupt than the other three combined. And THAT is saying something.

Now you might say “If that’s the case is the press working in partnership with government?” The answer is yes and no: yes if the government stays aware and cognizant of the fact that “the press” actually IS the government. And no if at any time the government forgets this fact and assumes it, and not the press, is the government…..then the press will strike. And strike hard. And strike unified. Unlike how the government operates which is in a fucking dither and in bewilderment and in a cowardly manner all the time. Plus bureaucrats will throw each other to the wolves with absolutely no hesitation.

The Yellow Wall of Unified Journalists will NEVER do that. They know they have the upper hand: they can write sentences – bad ones, but they CAN write sentences….unlike bureaucrats who can’t do anything, and they can’t get voted out of office or fired by any bureaucrat. But as long as the government personnel show homage and respect and gratitude to The Press……The Press will pretend to be merely a watchdog of government and not the operator of government. For after all, the Constitution itself was written by journalists. It was dreamed up by bureaucrats, but actually composed by journalists. Which is why it’s all over the place.

If a successful novelist had written the Constitution it would 1: be a lot more fun to read and 2: would likely have some logic and coherence to it and a lot less of pontificating its own greatness. But it was written by failed novelists. Not successful ones. But failures. So when your idiot “representative” creates a new idiotic law, it’s your Actual Government of Failed Novelists who will praise it and declare it holy and wise, which you will read about and then vote for. Assuming it’s a law that requires the votes of the alleged citizenry. Which 99.999999% of American laws do not require.

But that’s another and different and equally exciting article. From Yours Truly, J.J. Solari, Failed Novelist Times Ten AND Failed Journalist. IN FACT…..I even failed as a Mouseketeer. There’s a reason I write for Bikernet.

138: SUSTAINABLE (BUREAUCRAT/JOURNALISM DEFINITION) What all things except humans must become. (ACTUAL DEFINITION)……There actually isn’t one. Nothing is actually “sustainable” unless you don’t use it.

Since sustainability is a completely made-up insistence with no relation in any way to reality, there is only the puzzle of what, as Ayn Rand would say, this folly actually accomplishes. Well that would be it accomplishes agrarian reform and industrial extinction, in accordance with Marxist ideology, which is what all government crap devolves to: Marxist ideology.

Or pre Cambrian existence, in other words. Sustainable is an arbitrary redefinition of reality, the implied but not vocalized alternative to NOT sustaining things being….the end of the earth and all life on it if things (to be decreed, and as needed) are not “sustained.”

The idea that things must not be “used up” is a Marxist notion, as are most political notions circa 2022, the purpose being to groom people into not doing things, like the lockdown did, since Marxism is materially and spiritually impotent. It is a de-industrializing training regimen designed to restrict progress since progress is a threat to government and nations. See empowered, journey, diversity, inclusivity.

175: SUSTAINABILITY (cont)…… A word used by everyone for the sake of using it since no one actually knows how you sustain something you are using.

You can REPLACE things. But if you are sustaining it….then you’re not using it. It’s just in existence. Probably put there by Nature.

While sustainability has no meaning it does have a function, naturally political: to imply that the user of the word is bathed in priestlike holiness. Most product-sellers now use this word to suggest that they are holy so you should buy their iffy-level-of-merit product out of appreciation of the seller rather than out of satisfaction with the product.

Bureaucrats also use this word to suggest that they care about the “earth.” Which compared to the degree that they care about you, is likely greater, so they’re actually telling the truth for once. For only the earth matters now. Not you. Atomic energy, while not sustainable is in fact, close to inexhaustible. In America this makes it forbidden since a close-to-actually sustainable power source goes against the “agenda of sustainability” now embraced by bureaucrats and their frightened-of-losing-their-permission-to-exist corporate sycophants. Which would be all businesses not actually family or individually owned. Corporations are government-created entities and have nothing to do with the definition of capitalism.

176: SUSTAINABLE, SUSTAINABILITY (cont) (bureaucrat/journalist definition)……Unknown. (ACTUAL DEFINITION)……Unknown. Sustainable is a word with no actual meaning or definition in a political context, which is the only context it is ever used in. Perhaps it can be used in another context. Beats me. Maybe you can think of one. In the political realm while it has no actual meaning or definition, there is a prescribed response: obedience. If you are using something unsustainable, you should not be using it.

Why? Because you will use it all up. Then it will be gone. And no one will have any. Which is immoral. You are keeping other people from having any. And we all must have everything or nothing. All things must be sustainable otherwise you cannot use it.

Since nothing is actually sustainable, as far as anyone knows, even though no one actually knows, since no one knows what sustainable actually means or is or does or says or bleats or shits or gets off the pot…

Or maybe everything is sustainable if orders and procedures are followed as pronounced by people who can’t actually sustain an intelligence, we just don’t know, and if someone does actually know that person has not yet come forward to tell us what sustainable is or means or does so therefore to be safe lest we run out – your use of whatever we are talking about at the moment is to be curtailed under penalty of license-loss, since your license and your liberty are apparently not sustainable. They can actually disappear.

That much we know.

184: GREENHOUSE GAS (JOURNALIST/BUREAUCRAT DEFINITION) The destructive vapors of oil, coal and methane used in machines and in your lungs.(ACTUAL DEFINITION…….Two words assembled together in such a way as to put it into your head via relentless repetition by infinite human parrots including suddenly-genius first-graders, that earth is a man-made greenhouse, not a 4 billion year old mammoth amalgam of the entire periodic table.

The earth is not a green house. Nor is it a Popsicle. The expression “greenhouse gas” has one function: to put the idea of rising earth temperature into your head and associate it with you using an air conditioner or hair spray because your personal conveniences are killing others less fortunate. That’s right, it’s just more fucking Marxism.

The expression “greenhouse gasses” has been selected solely for the bizarre imagery that the phrase conjures: that the earth is not a successfully-self-operating monster of life-out-of dirt, winding and wending its way through a galaxy of a billion stars and a trillion planets, no, it’s fucking a greenhouse: a big glass building with its already hot, wet, humid essence being further compromised by your car which is turning the earth into more of a place for lizards and spiders and plants that eat animals than it already is, and you are at fault because of your selfish need for “modern conveniences” while others die.

The “greenhouse gas” is proclaimed to be CO2. Even though CO2 is not a “greenhouse gas.” There is actually no such thing as a greehouse gas. There is just CO2. CO2 is not a greenhouse gas. It’s just CO2. It’s never been…a greenhouse gas. It’s a CO2 gas.

The expression “greenhouse gas” has also been selected via some random bureaucratic catastrophe-generator to be compiled into the New Weather Terminology of Death along with the sudden newly-appearing mysterious version of meteorology called “climate science.” Meaning “the science you created and made necessary for us to investigate so that you don’t kill everybody.”

Climate science. Greenhouse effect. Greenhouse gasses. Global warming. Attribution science. Gray swan climate event, Hotter. And hotter. Wetter. Droughtier. It’s a fucking mess. Do you care??? No.

You have electricity. So YOU don’t care. (You’ll notice there is a worldwide sudden electricity problem in all the white countries.) You won’t stop stop using your air conditioner? We’ll shut off the power. You won’t stop driving your gas and diesel vehicles? We’ll outlaw oil.

You’ll use our mandatory electricity vehicles. Which don’t work. We don’t care. We need you dead before you realize you don’t actually need us. Eventually there will be something called “terrain science” that will explain why walking on the ground rather than just lying six feet beneath it is causing warts on the moon. Just like all the other things declared out of nowhere, claimed as fact and always suspiciously designed to handcuff human life, human happiness, human progress and discourage more cool stuff and to keep people glued to one spot.

Ya know, like Covid-19 successfully did.

–jj solari, bureaucrat/journalist dictionary

Note: I’m not pretending that this is the definitive work on winding down your collection or living your life. But if it gets you to at least consider what steps should be taken, and how, the article will have done its job.

As motorcycle fanatics, we’ve all laid awake nights wondering how we could add to our collections. At some point in our lives, doing exactly the opposite probably makes more sense. The reason, of course, is advancing age while hanging onto a deeply misguided belief that our family shares our passions.

Two things often happen after we kick the bucket. First, our supposed bros come over and try to bully your family into selling them your prized possessions cheap. “He promised…”

“Sure pal, we’ve heard it all before,” Should be the Redhead’s response. “Now, hit the road.”

The second would likely come from the kids who put up with your 2-wheeled passion for 40 years. “Get rid of this shit,” said your favorite son or daughter, who’s only passion is video games. Get the picture?

John Stein produced this DVD on the history of motorcycle drag racing after he wrote the book. The book is sold out, but sometimes available on Ebay.

Okay, so where’s your current attitude? You could cherish every piece as a treasure that deserves respect and be must be highly valued. Or you could say, “Fuck it. I’m going to party with my stuff until I’m gone. Then it’s their problem.”

In this article, we are going to take the previous notion and treat everything as a treasure to be respected and valued.

Step 1
Inventory: Create a document inventorying all the motorcycles and parts you own. Include their condition, location, history and estimated value.

If you have units on display in museums, friend’s homes, offices or restaurants, make a list and keep it up to date. Wait, what about that 45 flathead in a shop 2,000 miles away. Write it down and include a photo.

As appropriate in your situation, give copies of the inventory to a trusted family member, attorney, financial planner, etc.

Document Storage: Make sure you have all documents, titles, and insurance papers stored in a secure location. Additional documentation could include photos with captions. A title is cool, but without a photo she might not know what the hell it looks like. It could be the vintage Indian in the bedroom.

Step 2:
Selling your bikes and parts. This info might be helpful to downsize your collection. Or it can help guide the beneficiaries of your collection when you’re gone.

Considering the obscurity of certain motorcycles, as well as the small pool of potential buyers for some of the more expensive ones, it can easily take years. Or you could find a buyer right away. Documentation and history is important, including memorabilia.

In all likelihood, selling off the parts will prove most challenging and time-consuming. You can’t easily donate them to charity or sell them at a Mecum’s-type auction as you can with a complete motorcycle. Your best bet then will be to sell them to another collector, and there’s always EBay as an obvious way to do so. This could be daunting or a fun learning experience. Each part is valuable to the right builder. There are also forums for various motorcycles where only the owners go looking. There are also places like Facebook Marketplace.

It is unlikely Museums will want parts, but art and memorabilia could be valuable.

When you put out feelers, make sure they include overseas markets as well. A friend of mine has an enormous collection of parts for early Yamaha road racers, which he’s found move very slowly in the states but really well in England and Australia. Uncollectible parts in the US can be extremely valuable to Japanese builders.

Keep an eye on the markets. If they are flooded with parts from a collection, suddenly your rare parts are not sought-after. On the other hand you might learn that complete, rebuilt Knucklehead engines are going for $19,000…

Never forget the code of the antique dealer. If you want to sell a used Linkert carb they aren’t worth a dime, maybe $25.00. But if you called the dealer the following week and needing to purchase a used Linkert carb and they’re suddenly rare as hen’s teeth. He might be able to find you one for $625.00.

It’s a game. You can advertise a garage sale on Craig’s list and sell everything to empty out of the precious shop. Now your kids can make a killer game room out of it. Bada bing.

Step 3:
Estate planning: We all need to visit an estate planning attorney and check all the boxes. A will is good, but your heirs will have to go thru probate and pay the piper.

Another tool in estate planning is to set up a revocable living trust. You put your assets into the trust and remain in full control of them as long as you are able. When you die or become unable to handle your affairs, the items in the trust easily get turned over to your designated beneficiaries.
If you decide to do a trust, make sure that you title each motorcycle to your trust so as not to get tangled up in probate.

Separation anxiety? Not really.

Having recently begun the process of paring down my own collection, I’ve discovered a few things. After having sold some motorcycles I’ve owned for decades, I expected to mourn their loss–which hasn’t been the case at all. And I just removed one annual registration, insurance and maintenance fee from the to-do list.

There’s actually something therapeutic about it. Not only
will you have more money in the bank, but fewer things to step over in the garage. And not to belabor the point but there’s the very real satisfaction that comes with removing a tremendous future burden on your family. Plus, what about the fees for storage buildings?

That said, you may want to keep certain motorcycles in your estate even if you’re not around to enjoy them. If you have the good fortune to own a particularly famous motorcycle, you may want to stipulate that it stay in the family. (It would be a purely emotional decision but aren’t we allowed one or two of those?)

All in all, the subject isn’t something we really want to think about but sooner or later, we have to. Such is life.

 Though my 2022 Harley Ultra Limited is a very comfortable motorcycle, past experience has taught me that being able to change my position from time to time is definitely important.

I have used this same set up for over 100,000 miles and it was an easy decision to put them on this motorcycle.

https://www.harley-davidson.com/us/en/shop/long-angled-adjustable-highway-peg-mount-kit/p/50500167

Description:

Stretch out for added comfort. This Adjustable Highway Peg Mounting Kit can be set for shorter riders, and it can be reversed to reach far forward for those with long legs.

• 5-inch angled peg mounting kit in gloss black finish

• Angled design allows the arm to reach back and around to clear fairing lowers

• Arm can be raised and lowered for a custom fit

• Mounting clamp firmly grips the engine guard, and the locking design secures the peg at the desired angle

 

 There are two versions of the Angled Highway Peg Mounting. A short and a long version. I am using the long version.

 They are available in Black which I am using and Chrome.

 There are numerous styles of foot pegs that can be used with this set up and they can be found on Harley’s web site.

https://www.harley-davidson.com/us/en/shop/kahuna-footpegs/p/50501225

Description:

Understated but powerful, the Kahuna Collection’s rich gloss black surface is surrounded by deeply grooved, rich black rubber that provides grip and traction where needed.

• Gloss Black finish.

 

 Installation:

 If you work on your own motorcycle and have some basic tools this should be an easy install.

 

Tools:

 3/8 Drive Ratchet

3/8 Drive 5/16 Allen Socket

3/8 Drive 1/4 Allen Socket

 You will also need Blue Thread-locker (243)

 

 Position the Mounting Clamp Halves around the engine guard. The head pin should be upward. The cogged face of the clamp should face the extension arm.

 

 

During The Following Steps I Suggest Tightening Parts Tight Enough So That They Do Not Move But Can Be Adjusted Before Final Torque.

  Position the arm so that when footpeg is installed it will not interfere with the foot controls or hit the ground when cornering.

 

 

  Sit on upright motorcycle and test position of assembly. Adjust as necessary.

  Repeat procedure on opposite side of motorcycle.

 

Measure both arms are the same height from the ground and pegs rotated to a comfortable position. Put Blue Thread-locker on footpeg bolt and Torque to 21 Foot Pounds

 

Install the setscrew into the lower of the two holes on the back side of the arm and adjust until the angle of the footpeg is comfortable for you.

 

 Torque assembly to 55-60 Foot Pounds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edwin X Berry, PhD, Theoretical Physics

Then, he presents the usual extensive list of weather-caused damages since 2012.

“The report was clairvoyant. The report was exactly what a climate report should do: Warn us about the future in time for us to adapt before the worst stuff happens.”
But Borenstein and Oppenheimer go off the scientific cliff by concluding these IPCC predicted damages prove that our CO2 emissions caused these damages.

Events do not prove CO2, human or natural, caused the events. Furthermore, climate is a 30-year average of weather, so the use of weather events to argue a human cause for climate change is unscientific. The fundamental scientific principle – that events do not prove their cause – ends all arguments that events prove human CO2 is guilty.

The IPCC claims these three (false) theories are true:
1.Human CO2 causes all the increase in atmospheric CO2 above 280 ppm.
2.The CO2 increase above 280 ppm causes global warming.

Let’s look at the big picture of climate alarmism.

This figure shows the three scenarios for Natural and Human CO2.

Climate change is the most divisive, misunderstood, critical issue in the 2022 election

America’s only hope is that the Republican Party will support climate truth. The absence of a Republican challenge has allowed the Democrats to gain voters on the climate issue.

Now, in mid-September 2022, the November election does not look good for Republicans.

1.Nature controls the climate.
2.Our CO2 does not change the climate and is not a pollutant.
3.Global temperature controls the CO2 level.
4.We need more CO2 because more CO2 grows more food with less water.
Our national energy plan should include:
1.Making natural gas our primary energy source.
2.Making nuclear energy our growing primary energy source.
3.Drill, baby, drill, with added incentives to keep our offshore oil rigs in top condition.
4.Make high-tech coal our secondary energy source.

1.Eliminate all climate laws, regulations, incentives, and treaties.
2.Eliminate all subsidies for EV’s, heat pumps, wind, and solar energy, thereby forcing them compete on a level economic playing field.
Carbon capture may be the most insane and counter-productive peacetime undertaking in human history.
Don’t waste good energy to put atmospheric CO2 in the ground.

Montana Republicans have not supported climate truth.
Nineteen Republicans entered Montana’s 2022 primary election for Congress. Montana Free Press asked these candidates to answer questions on climate change.
Sixteen Republican candidates (85%) agreed with the Democrats on climate change. They did not read Berry’s book, Climate Miracle.
Democrats have filed multiple redundant climate lawsuits.

In 2011, Dr. Berry filed an Intervention to a Democrat climate petition in Montana’s Supreme Court. His Intervention caused the Court to reject the petition, thereby saving Montana billions of dollars per year thereafter and making him the only scientist to defeat a climate lawsuit. The Montana Supreme Court ruled,

De. Berry’s attorney, Quentin Rhoades, wrote,

Montana’s defense attorney for Held v Montana thinks they must defend against the plaintiffs’ direct claims.

The scientific method says if your prediction is wrong then your theory is wrong. This proves the scientific basis of the Democrats’ 2022 climate lawsuits is wrong.

Republicans must lead a new revolution against the climate fraud.

Now is the perfect time for Republicans to promote climate truth because people want to stay warm this winter and want to keep the costs of energy, travel, and food low.

© 2022 Edwin X Berry, PhD – All Rights Reserved
To comment on this article, please click here.
Dr. Ed Berry is CEO of Ed Berry LLC, author of Climate Miracle, and editor and publisher of https://edberry.com based in Bigfork, Montana. He has a PhD in Physics, is a Certified Consulting Meteorologist, and an expert in climate change who takes the position that our carbon dioxide emissions are insignificant to climate change. His peer-reviewed paper, published on December 14, 2021, proves climate alarmism is climate fiction. 

At the same time, you’ll want to move everything into one place—ideally your garage or storage unit. The fewer places you keep your collection, the easier the process becomes. And be prepared for the entire process to take far longer than you imagined. Considering the obscurity of certain motorcycles as well as the small pool of potential buyers for some of the more expensive ones and unpredictability of the market, it can easily take years.

Likely, selling off the parts will prove most challenging and time-consuming. You can’t donate them to charity or sell them at a Mecom’s-type auction as you can with a complete motorcycle. Your best bet then will be to sell them to another collector and EBay is an obvious way to do so. Museums might want them, but generally only if they’re free.

Finding that person can take time as well. We all know people who know motorcycles just as we know people who know money. But it’s essential that whomever you choose has your best interests in mind rather than their own. For that reason, you’ll want to involve an estate attorney or estate planner to create a Directive to Heirs or Beneficiaries which lays out how you want your collection handled as part of your Estate.
Once you’ve created an estate plan, make sure that you assign or title each motorcycle to your Trust so as not to get tangled up in probate.

Organization

Lights

A torch setup

Digital calipers

A high-quality tap set
The ability to create an accurate threaded hole is key to just about any fabrication project. It’s also important to be able to clean out or restore threads on vintage parts to ensure proper fit. Not all taps fit the bill, however. This is the first entry that includes a disclaimer: high quality. Taps are made from very hard material and the thing about that is if they break off in a hole you are in for a world of frustration. I personally think you have two options for acquiring taps: Buy the big set and cry once at the check you just wrote, or buy what you need as you need it. This all comes down to what kind of cash you have on hand at the time. I came into ownership of a cheap tap set and it just sits in the back of the toolbox these days as anytime I need to cut threads I will purchase a high-quality piece of tooling in the appropriate size for the project and then index it in the toolbox for the future.

Welder
Left for last because it’s the most obvious. Just about any DIY enthusiasts without a welder lusts after one, and for good reason. A welder can be a great problem solver and there is no reason not to have one these days with 110v models being more powerful, smaller, and more affordable than ever. Plan on burning a small spool or two or wire on scrap metal before joining any projects you care about. Best to make friends with your local metals or welding shop to see if you can pick their scrap bin once a week to get material to practice on.

Adding these eight tools and disciplines to a basic tool kit makes you more than prepared for any home DIY project. Have a recommendation you think should be added to the list? Post it in the Comments Section below.

1. Comment from a Hagerty reader pointed out an important “tool” – the “Fire Extinguisher”. The author has acknowledged this critical element which should be included no matter the size and capabilities of any garage. We will publish a story on types and applications of Fire Extinguishers shortly.

This lifelong lover of two wheels grew up in Los Angeles in the 1960s, a decade marked by civil rights uprisings and antiwar protests. Fax’s parents sought to give her and her siblings a leg up and a foot out the door so the kids could achieve the life they aspired to, even if the social representation wasn’t there.

“We were actually very poor,” Fax recalls. “We didn’t have anything but a lot of hand-me-downs. We really weren’t able to get new clothes. We had old bicycles. But my father and my mother were insistent on making sure that we were exposed to things that most African American children were not exposed to.”

From a young age, Fax found herself the odd one out in most extracurricular activities. Her skin tone aside, she was a tomboy and often the only girl. She’s used to surprising people. Case in point: Her first experience behind the handlebars was a minibike race against a bunch of boys. Fax was 8. She learned the basics of the bike only minutes before approaching the starting line.

And she won her race.

When she was 13, her family moved to a small town in Ohio. A city slicker, born and raised, Fax was invigorated by the wide-open spaces and the chance to get lost in the landscape with her younger brother riding on the back of her dirt bike. They chased down long, rural roads and returned home with more than a few skinned knees. That’s where she finally figured out how to work a clutch. That’s where she came into her own as a rider.

Her first vehicle had been a moped at age 10 while living in Los Angeles. Then she upgraded to the 175 Honda dirt bike. With Ohio highways summoning Fax like a siren song, she needed something with more power.

“Went from the 175 to a street bike because I could go farther,” she says. “I got a 1969 350 Honda twin with a two-tone tank, red and white. By the time I was in college, I’d put 100,000 miles on that thing.”

“I rode that bike all the way back from Hazard County, Kentucky, to the little town in Ohio that I lived in,” Fax says. “Everybody kept telling me my life was going to change after I bought the Harley. Let me tell you something: Everything changed. Being a female on a big V-twin, alone, I think was astounding enough. The fact that I was an African American female on the bike made it an even sweeter deal — it was like the circus came to town …

“That motorcycle opened up more doors than I ever could have imagined.”

Today, Fax’s daily rider is a 2001 Harley-Davidson Road King Classic. She also owns a 1995 Honda XR250R dirt bike and a 1999 Sportster 883 Hugger that she turned into a bobber “for banging around town.” She’s currently rebuilding the Shovelhead.

Fax’s unabashed drive to reach for her dreams (and beyond) has led to a life packed with accolades that include appearing on the covers of biker magazines; starring in documentary films (Biker Women and The Litas); performing bass with the band Klymaxx on MTV and Soul Train, and becoming an entry point to motorcycling for so many other women riders around the globe. Earlier this year, she was invited by Polaris to join the company’s new Empowersports Women’s Riding Council, which was formed to increase representation, inclusion, and participation of women in Powersports. She currently resides in Los Angeles with her partner of 25 years, has a master’s degree in education, and works as a K-12 teacher. In light of Covid, she now teaches physical education online, concentrating her instruction on basic survival skills, health, safety, and teamwork until group activities are permissible again.

We caught up with Fax to find out more about what compels her to choose two wheels and live life in the wind.

What was your first bike?

I started riding when I was 8, but I didn’t get a “motorcycle” until I was 10. My dad had his own company as a painter and decorator, and he was working for Philip Fowler, who owned Southern Comfort Whiskey at the time. He was on a job, and Philip was giving him a walk-through. My dad happened to see this moped — basically a motorbike — in Philip’s garage.

Philip says, “We imported that from Italy five years ago. It’s been sitting in the garage since. If your daughter can get it running, you can have it.”

You’ve said motorcycles opened up new doors for your career. How so?

There were not many African American women on motorcycles, and even if they were, they certainly were not on Harleys. I became kind of a unicorn. It got me seen — for the first time, people were actually seeing me instead of me being invisible.

I ended up gracing the covers of American Motor Scene magazine, Harley Women, Girl Guide, and Black Rider. In doing those covers, I landed a few more modeling jobs, a few more commercials. I appeared in Biker Women, a documentary that was aired on the Discovery Channel. Within one week, it went international … All of us were on billboards. We were on the sides of buses. This was the biggest thing any of us had ever done, and it literally blew my head off my shoulders.

How do you hope to inspire other women through your endeavors?

What’s your favorite biker ritual?

I call it a circle of love or a circle of safety. Before I take off on my motorcycle, I walk around my bike very slowly, and I check everything on it to make sure everything’s good before I get out on the road. It’s also a form of meditation and prayer.

Where would you love to ride to next?

I want to go coast to coast. I haven’t done that yet. And then I want to go to Alaska.

The best thing about living life in the wind?

Honestly, I can’t breathe unless I can ride. I didn’t realize how much of a release it is for me until I was injured at one point and couldn’t ride for a while. I almost went crazy — at least, that’s what it felt like. Heaven forbid I become blind because that would be the worst. I would have to hire somebody to drive me around in a sidecar.

Somebody said to me, “Well, now that you’re getting older, do you think that you may not ride anymore?”

I am basically a gear head. I have always been in love with the internal combustion engine. They fascinate me, especially old ones. My dad taught me four cycle theory when I was about 7. I watched him overhaul his flathead Ford in 1952. The truck was only two years old and ran fine. I don’t know why he wanted to overhaul it. He had to pull it with the tractor to get it started because it was so tight. It ran fine after that though. Dad was a natural mechanic and I guess I got it from him. He was trained on tanks and other military hardware in the army.

He landed at Normandy and fought all the way to Berlin with Patton. I found out years after he passed away he had to clean bodies out of tanks and salvage parts to keep them running at the Battle of the Bulge. He never talked about that stuff to me.

He got dysentery that winter (1944). Colon cancer killed him in 1961. I’m pretty sure that affected the cancer.

I had two years of auto mechanics and one year of welding and general metals in high school so when I graduated, I had some basic skills which have carried me my whole life.

I joined the Navy as soon as I graduated and they trained me in aviation electronics. I had an aptitude for that, but I didn’t like it as well as working on cars and motorcycles.

My first job after the Navy was working on utility trucks the electric companies use. I perfected my welding skills and built some custom springer front ends and about four girder front ends from scratch in 1969 and 1970.

Over the years I have been an oil field welder, a heavy truck mechanic and I’ve worked for Chevy dealers and Ford dealers as a heavy line technician and an automatic transmission technician.

For fun I built hot rods and choppers. I should have stayed with the aviation electronics. I could have retired from Lockheed Martin. Oh well, hindsight’s a bitch.

In 1929 they had a 420 cubic inch straight-eight with 325 horsepower. It was big and heavy but would outrun anything on the road then. All those old engines had compression ratios of around 6 to 1. If they were brought up to around 10 to 1 and we installed modern carburetors, they would make serious power.

In 1917 Nash had an overhead valve six that was about like Chevrolet’s in the thirties. Chevrolet had a V8 based on the Curtiss aircraft engine in 1918. They only produced them for one year. Nearly all the design used in today’s engines was actually developed from 1915-1930. Much of it came about because of war.

The Liberty motor originally developed for heavy WW1 bombers is a 1100 cubic inch V12 that looks like 6 Harley-Davidsons staked together. It had 12 individual cylinders on a long common case, single overhead cams driven by shafts and bevel gears, rocker arms and hemi heads and was running strong in 1917. As soon as the war was over, they were sold as surplus and most found their way in boats. It was the rum runner engine of choice. There were still a lot of them running in the late 1940s.

In 1932 Ford decided to build a V8 for the common man. Cadillac ran Flathead V8s for years in their Lasalles. They had overhead V12s and V16s in their big cars. Those cars were for the rich only.

With the advent of the depression no one could afford cars like that. The Ford V8 is a horrible design, but by installing 2 water pumps and huge radiators on them, they would run for years. It was only 221 cubic inches and had 85 horsepower, but the cars were so light they were fast. That is why they made such great hot rods. I have a full fendered ‘34 right now with a 350 Chevy in it and it only weighs about 2500 pounds.

The problem with the Ford engine included the exhaust ports all the way around the cylinders through the water jacket and out the bottom side of the block. This really heated the water and was prone to cracking exhaust ports. It’s hard to find a good flathead Ford block. Because they were so cheap, they were everywhere in the ‘50s and started a huge aftermarket industry of speed equipment. Thanks to nostalgia this stuff is still being made today.

Cadillac had a much better flathead V8 that came out in 1937. It was 346 cubic inches and had 150 horsepower at 3600 RPM. Not bad for the times.

They are very reliable and durable engines. Many are still running without ever being apart. They had the exhaust ports come out the top right beside the intake ports. They had beautiful black porcelain coated exhaust manifolds right beside the carburetor. They also had hydraulic lifters. They are very quiet and smooth.

The trouble is they weigh over 800 pounds. Hot rodders were not interested until the new overhead valve Cadillac V8 came out in 1949. They and the ‘49 Olds were the engines of choice for hot rods everywhere. They were stuffed into ‘49-‘51 Fords that ran moonshine. Norm Grabovski put one in a bucket-T and it became the Kookie car on 77 Sunset strip. All that stuff fascinated me and still does. I want to build a rod with a nail-head Buick right now.

The cars and motorcycles of today run awesome and last a long time, but they do nothing for me. People who can work on those old engines are few and far between. We are a vanishing breed. In a few years if a collector wants to keep the old stuff running, he will have to get out the old manuals and train some young guy with an aptitude for it.