This year, the refreshed Progressive® Parlor presented its own cultural community within the IMS shows, providing a new and unique destination for attendees. Progressive is combining an array of award winning services and experiences, including motorcycle service and maintenance seminars, tech talks, a custom motorcycle sweepstakes and all within a single space, acting as a beacon for education and entertainment.

A unique Grease and Gears Garage introduced bikers to do it yourself fixes and custom building. Topics included: Building a custom exhaust, Flat Tracker Conversions, Carb Rebuilds, Fat Tail Install, Hand and Foot Control Upgrades, and much more. Technicians did live work, answering audience questions and sharing some newfound knowledge.

“Adventure Out” was a new space on getting out on two-wheels and having fun. Visitors can kick back at the moto campsite, check out adventure and touring product displays, interact with experienced riders and listen to their stories and tips, and find all the gear, parts and accessories you need for your next trek or tour from participating Adventure Out! Exhibitors. Husband and wife, Steve and Amelia Kamrad are 2-wheel off-road endurance junkies who hosted this space throughout the weekend. People had a chat, asked questions and just hang out for their talks on all things Adventure Riding.

Friday, Saturday and Sunday saw a Presentation on: How to Launch – finding a local ride or trails, how to prep, how to connect with other ADV riders
Saturday Presentation was on: What to buy first: the most important gear choices and Women Adventurers/Get Together: How to get (your significant other) started

 
J&P Cycles Ultimate Builder Custom Bike Show
The J&P Cycles Ultimate Builder Custom Bike Show is world’s largest motorcycle builder competition, featuring more than 350 motorcycles and $100,000 in cash and prizes across the IMS Tour in New York, Minneapolis, Cleveland, Dallas, Chicago and Washington DC.

Professional and amateur builders compete at their local IMS for cash, prizes, recognition and a chance to move-on to the Championship Round in Chicago – where $70,000 in cash and prizes is up for grabs.
Classes:
– Freestyle
– Modified Harley presented by Harley-Davidson
– Modified Retro
– Custom Street

Category Awards:
– People’s Choice: Voted by the IMS Attendees!
– Best DYNA / FXR
– Best Chopper
– Best Bagger
– Editor’s Choice: Selected by Jeff Holt of Hot Bike Magazine
– Editor’s Choice: Selected by Chris Callen of Cycle Source Magazine
– K & N Award

Bikers, Riders and Fans could bring the family to the show Friday, Saturday & Sunday and enjoy the Kids Zone presented by Allstate, where young children, aged 18 months – 5 years old, explored life on two wheels. This environment allows kids to experience the challenge and thrill of riding a bike on unique terrains.

IMS 2017 had a new lifestyle inspired space to Explore, Shop, Socialize and Experience. Visitors can check out a rad selection of brands that are both new and known to the industry, many of which play across multiple channels; all of which offer a fresh prospective about life on two wheels and beyond.

Riders from the XDL National Championship (XDL), the world’s premiere street bike freestyle championship series, performed a variety of stunts ranging from wheelies, acrobatics and high speed stoppies. XDL combines the world’s best riders and some of the most complex and difficult tricks for an unmatched street bike performance. This lasted all three days so you just can’t miss it.


•Chris McNeil (AKA “Teach”): 2-time XDL East Coast Champion and 2018 Stuntwars World Champion, has won or been on the podium in virtually every competition in the past 7 years
•Aaron Twite (AKA “Twite”): An active competitor on the XDL Championship series for the past 10 years and travels the world judging international competition and performing across Asia
•Chris Theis (AKA “Tice”): Been announcing XDL Competitions since 2008 and performing XDL Street Jam events since 2012

SWEEPSTAKES: Motorcycle enthusiasts can download the IMS App for a chance to win a 2018 Husqvarna 701 Enduro, Indian Scout Bobber or Kawasaki Z 125 PRO. Once you’ve downloaded the app, play the IMS Challenge at the show for your chance to win a guided motorcycle tour of the Alps from Edelweiss Bike Tour and a customized leather jacket from REV’IT. Visit the Adventure Out! and Shift at IMS booths with your mobile app to enter.

The Marketplace presented by Cycle Gear hosts an interactive retail space allowing you to touch, test, and buy the latest gear, parts and accessories from key aftermarket brands. Specialists are on hand to educate, introduce products, answer questions and help you finalize your purchase.

IMS Vintage showcased the very best of vintage, classic and retro-style motorcycles from vintage bike clubs from across the country. All IMS Tour cities are represented in this vintage attractions with clubs and AMCA Chapters.

Lot of cool motorcycles were presented for the very first time. This included Vanderhall Edison2 Electric Autocycle, the 650cc Royal Enfield Interceptor and Continental GT Café Racer. Urals and Indians were also in the limelight. Visit your nearest IMS Event and write to us about your biking experience at wayfarer@bikernet.com or leave us a note in the comments section below.
END

Unlike mug-shot books that contain photos of people “arrested” for various crimes that can be used in the future to identify further offenses committed by these people, photographs at the scene of a traffic stop or other field investigation, where no crime or arrest took place, are digitalized and can be stored in some database for future use.
The big question that looms over the use of digital photographic database storage is why are people who have not committed a crime being placed in some database? Further, in the case of motorcyclists, is this an attempt at further profiling motorcycle club members by placing them in some database like GangNet of CalGang? Even though a person like the club member who was detained in Austin committed no crime, the possibility of his photograph being stored and subsequently viewed by victims or witnesses of future crimes presents the danger of wrongful identification. If you think that’s overreacting, ask the Innocence Project what their opinion is. In fact, the Innocence Project explains that in more than seventy-five percent of convictions overturned with DNA evidence, eyewitness misidentification was a cause of the wrongful conviction in the first place3.

1. https://www.facebook.com/motorcycleprofilingproject/videos/1071675339635527/
2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terry_v._Ohio

For more information on cases involving profiling of motorcyclists, visit the Motorcycle Profiling Project http://www.motorcycleprofilingproject.com/

Speed, the word of the day – Thursday, August 10th, 2017, Sturgis, SD.

After parking Onxx and Dirty Girl, Rogue and I headed out to meet Chris Doyle, who was passing through Sturgis with the L.A. Guns Band, finishing up the last leg of their August tour – heading from Sioux Falls to Three Forks, MT. The boys had a day off, and where better else to spend it then in Sturgis – sure beats a truck stop!

Tucked away at the side of the main stage at the Full Throttle, sat a jet black RV, with a Whizzer (motorized bicycle) parked out by the door. We definitely knew this wasn’t an entry into the Sons of Speed race! But it did belong to Phil Lewis, lead vocalist from the LA Guns, who is definitely familiar with speed and horses (both, iron and power). 

Same goes for master shredder, guitarist Tracii Guns. These two haven’t played together in 15 years, and recently regrouped to breathe life back into L.A. Guns . They brought in Johnny Martin on Bass, Michael Grant on Guitar, and Shane Fitzgibbon on Drums to solidify their line-up. 

And rock on to a masterpiece they did, as their new album, “THE MISSING PEACE,” hits the shelves on October 13, 2017 via Frontiers Music Srl.
 
Tracii added that “this new album is High-energy adrenaline, preserving Classic Rock at it’s finest!“ The album has a very modern ’70s vibe and they credit Deep Purple as an influence. Their first single, Speed, has been picked up by NASCAR and will be debuted at the Talladega Races in October. This song definitely kicks ass and takes it full throttle – check it out here:

“Speed” – (Official Music Video) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxzNSEyQfAw&feature=youtu.be

Throughout the years, Tracii and Phil both have foraged into the biker world and have taken part in Charity Rides and other events while on and off tour. They both have a preference for vintage, in both metal and iron. They have played at Bike Week in Daytona, Sturgis and other events around the country. Phil reminisced that when he first moved to LA, he only had motorcycles for 3 years. After he started generating revenue in the rock and roll world, he went out and bought a Sportster, and vivdly remembers riding it across the Golden Gate Bridge sometime in 1989. Phil, in his off time, likes to ride dirt bikes on the desert trails close to his home. The Whizzer is a happy “road alternative” for him when traveling – and he’s added on 400 miles on it since Memphis. It travels easy, and is quick and easy to repair – not the same as previous motorcycles that he brought on the road that got damaged by transport and band equipment/cases. 

Tracii, on the flip side, has a wish list started that includes a Ural Side car, so he can spend more time with his son, in the wind. Tracii recalled his ’76 FXE, one of his favorites, and an old Triumph TR-7 in his collection. 

Vintage is big to the band as well, and they have opted to release, “The Missing Peace,” on Double Gate Vinyl! Yes, Vinyl. Seems this is a new trend with bands – bringing back the “old fashioned” album (that we all listened to back in the day)! 

L.A. Guns is well known for a variety of hard, classic rock varying between three minute “fast” songs and 10 minute instrumental odysseys. Their energy and vibe with the new songs and album get you right off the line, and, well, that damn speed – you know how it is……”.A little speed’ll make you want a little more!”

You can get more: “Speed” and “Sticky Fingers” are available now. 

Pre-order here: http://radi.al/MissingPeace
• Frontiers: http://www.frontiers.shop (LTD. Gatefold 2 Black Vinyl/180 Gram available)
• iTunes: http://radi.al/MissingPeaceiTunes
• Amazon: http://radi.al/MissingPeaceAmazon
• Google Play: http://radi.al/MissingPeaceGooglePlay
• Spotify: http://radi.al/MissingPeaceSpotify

L.A. Guns Official website: https://www.lagunsmusic.com

BAND LINEUP:
Phil Lewis – Vocals
Tracii Guns – Guitars
Johnny Martin – Bass
Michael Grant – Guitar
Shane Fitzgibbon – Drums

L.A. GUNS LIVE ON TOUR:

9/1: Litchfield, MN @ Meeker County Fair
9/2: Sioux City, IA @ Anthem @ Hard Rock Hotel & Casino
9/23: Lawnton, OK @ Comanche Nation Fair
9/30: Macul, Santiago, Chile @ Santiago Rock Festival
10/6: Salt Lake City, UT @ Liquid Joe’s
10/7: Denver, CO @ Herman’s Hideaway
10/14: Sacramento, CA @ Holy Diver
10/27: Knoxville, TN @ The Open Chord
10/29: Pekin, IL @ Rock N Skull @ Avantis Dome
12/14: Houston, TX @ Proof Bar
12/31: Los Angeles, CA @ The Whisky W/Faster Pussycat
2018:
1/27: Anaheim, CA @ The Parish @ HOB Anaheim (Namm Event)
2/10: San Juan, Puerto Rico, @ Shannan’s W/Loudness
2/11-2/16: Miami, FL @ Monsters of Rock Cruise
2/16: Jacksonville, FL @ 80’s In the Park @ Lexington Hotel
2/17: Ft. Lauderdale, FL Culture Room

For More Info Visit:
http://www.lagunsmusic.com
https://www.facebook.com/LAFknGuns/
https://twitter.com/laguns
https://www.instagram.com/laguns/
https://www.facebook.com/traciiguns/
https://twitter.com/traciiguns
https://www.instagram.com/traciiguns/

“Sticky Fingers” (Official Audio) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2FN5HTSiOt4&feature=share

“The Missing Peace” Track Listing:
1. It’s All The Same To Me
2. Speed
3. A Drop Of Bleach
4. Sticky Fingers
5. Christine
6. Baby Gotta Fever
7. Kill It Or Die
8. Don’t Bring A Knife To A Gunfight
9. The Flood’s The Fault Of The Rain
10. The Devil Made Me Do It
11. The Missing Peace

From Tracii, Phil and the band: “Thanks for listening to our fucking music and thanks to all our fans!”

Sturgis is a major endeavor each year. It’s the epicenter of the custom motorcycle industry. Hell, the Chip held five custom bike shows, five concerts, two wet t-shirt contests, an industry party, and Michael Lichter’s stellar art exhibit and bike show, plus a helluva lot more. That’s just scratching the surface. New camp facilities pop up every year and this was no different with the latest Elk Ridge facility and a very together travel center.

Year before last, on the 75th, I had the pleasure to meet the Smoke Out crew for a pre-rally run through the Badlands. We arrived two weeks early and I met Rich Worley of American Biker in Charleston, SC where I bought my 2014 Indian Chief Classic. Polaris only built 10,000 of this first-year Indian. Rich customized it slightly with his patina paintwork, lowered it, made new bars (’46 Indian style) and we modified a few other pieces. I can’t leave anything alone.

Then, since he has never been to Sturgis, he rode it out. We arrived, Rich picked up an Indian loaner and I straddled my ’14 Chief for a great time in the Badlands with the bros. We stayed in a vacation cabin up a gravel road in Spearfish. I rode the cross-country Chief home to Wilmington in Los Angeles. Terrific ride. We covered the whole tamale on Bikernet.

The next year, I rode the Chief again out to Sturgis and back with fellow Hamster Mike Stevenson, about 3,000 miles. This year we pondered our options. At one point, four of us were going to truck vintage choppers to Sturgis for the rally, but as these difficult planning operations go, the program constantly changed, flexed and blew to dust.

I was in the process of searching for a new vehicle, with four comfortable seats and a box capable of carrying two bikes. Then we could trailer two more and be golden. I never found such a vehicle, so my plans started to alter like a snake in tall grass looking for a way out or the next rat to swallow.

As August neared, I had my 2004 Chevy Express tuned and new Firestone tires installed. I was beginning to lose confidence in this puppy. But it had performed admirably for several years, thanks to Richard Kranzler, our deceased Bikernet Baggers editor. The maroon van made two trips to the salt flats a delight. That puppy was the shit and a Kendon trailer completed the team.

I also had the trailer serviced. Willie, the master mechanic, borrowed it often and I called him to get it dialed in for the run.
“Bring it over,” Willie said, “and I’ll be glad to check it out.

“It’s not at your pad?” I panicked.

“Nope,” Willie said. “Some guy picked it up. I don’t remember his name, but you said it was okay.”

“What did his truck look like?” I stammered.

“Damn, I don’t remember,” Willie said and hung up.

Fuck, what the hell? It took some memory searching and trying to stay calm phone calls. For years, I’ve been trying to install a clipboard in the shop to list when someone hauls off something or borrows a tool. Just recently, we put it together, but Jeremiah writes down what he takes then scratches it out and writes, “Fuck you.” Then he storms out of the shop. He never returns anything…

The trailer never made it to the list, but within 48 hours I happened to call Brad Olsen, and while talking about his Panhead, I asked him about the trailer. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

He greased the wheels and while checking tire pressures discovered a highly damaged spare bolted to the underside of the frame. I noticed how low the trailer rode several times. We reached out to Pep Boys and ordered a new tire. “Just throw the spare in the back of the van,” Brad said, and I cut off the bent posts that held the spare under the trailer.

The narrow, flimsy, tongue on the Kendon bike ramp was always a problem and I welded a slice of tubing to the end of the ramp for a more secure ramp. It worked like a champ. Our Sturgis vehicle team came together as we tinkered with the bikes.

Both of these scooters were built around ‘20s flat side tank vintage style and both seemed to have issues. The 1984 Shovelhead, which I called the 1928 Shovelhead, with 21-inch tires front and rear, was finally dialed in when Kyle wrecked it. I patched it back together and made more improvements, but didn’t ride it much. The tanks were European re-pop JD tanks from the ‘20s with the oil tank incorporated into the left side.

We messed with it and replaced the bars with Paughco Hollywood flat track bars and their new solid brass dogbone risers, and Franky started riding it every weekend. I also waited for years to re-register it in California. I bought it originally from Arlen Ness. It was a Mexican Police bike. JIMS rebuilt the engine and trans, and I shipped the components to Rick Fairless in Dallas with additional parts to build this little puppy.

It took about a year and the bike was titled in Texas. I kept the Texas registration going for a few years. So, when I kicked it around the California DMV this time, they didn’t like it. Of course, they don’t like anything. Anyway, we got it handled, titled, registered and insured so Franky could ride it.

The 5-Ball factory racer was constructed about 2009 with mostly Paughco components, frame, front end and a Chica rear fender. It was one of my favorite builds, but it didn’t run right. It had a new 100-inch Crazy Horse engine, but it sputtered badly. I tried everything. I switched out the carb, the pipes, the ignition, you name it. But recently I tinkered with it and it came to life and hauled ass. I tuned it some, rode it some and thought, what the hell. It would be a terrific bike to ride around Sturgis. It fit the atmosphere.

We loaded and planned, planned and loaded. We took tools, oil, funnels, rags, you name it, even the paperwork and insurance cards, but we forgot the ignition keys. Some 25 miles out of town it dawned on me. We had carefully made sure to have all the proper documentation, but forgot the goddamn keys. I immediately called the Redhead of Redheads on Thursday night while rolling toward Vegas. Could she overnight the keys to Deadwood on a Friday.

She didn’t bat an eye, but was on the case after wandering through the dark shop looking for two sets of keys. How the hell does Jay Leno deal with all his vehicles? I know, he has a crew, but still it can be daunting to keep up with all the projects, pieces, paperwork and keys. I would rather put a toggle switch on each bike and beat anyone who touches it.

We left Thursday night, and I’m glad we did. That cut 300 miles to North Las Vegas off the 1,339 miles to Deadwood. We stayed at the Cannery Casino on the north side of town to avoid morning traffic. Some terrific art in this casino, old bomber girl murals and art from ‘40s agricultural wooden box paintings.

I’m not a fan of Utah, although one of the best biker bars in the country is located on the main drag in Salt Lake City, The Barbary Coast, run by a longtime biker and Easyriders supporter…But as soon as you shift east on the 80 and head toward the Continental Divide and Flaming Gorge, it’s a beautiful run.

We stayed on the 80 to Rawlings and spent the night. The hotel was rough and run by a pleasant Indian woman from India. We couldn’t find a place to eat anywhere, including the truck stop Denny’s (the damn thing was closed). I try to avoid franchise food joints. I could go to Denny’s down the street in LA, why the hell would I go to a Denny’s in Wild West Wyoming. We ended up eating salads and snacks from the truck stop. I asked for whiskey and the large truck stop owner shook his head but offered the keys to his motorhome out back. He was kind enough to offer me a slug from his private stash, no charge.

The next morning, we rolled toward a major junction of the 80, 30, 287, and 789, while looking for a local place for breakfast. We discovered a Veterans Pancake Breakfast and I knew it would be a score. We found a place to park and for five bucks we received slabs of ham and two massive pancakes to share with the locals in a Lions Club solid brick hall, a fundraiser for local veterans. The food was terrific and the people very cool but constantly complaining about getting old.

Franky, at 23 and covered with tattoos, began to feel out of place, but no one whispered a word. Everyone was friendly. The town prepped for a rodeo parade and we made a quick U-turn back into town to catch the 789 north but were headed off by a local obese cop blocking the street.

The cop wouldn’t give us an inch of helpful information, just barked orders in the hot sun and Franky, with tattoos around his neck, kept fucking with him. I’ve been working on his cop behavior. The cop had more guns and backup than we stored in the back of the van. Besides, we didn’t want him coming near the van or we might spend the rest of our lives in the Rawlings prison just up the street.

We got the hell out of the cop’s way, but at every corner spotted another cruiser. Maybe big boy dropped a dime on us. We crept through the backstreets of town until we found a connection to Wyoming 789, turned right and passed the prison on Highway 287 North without incident.

Then we turned east on the 220 toward Riverton, but that’s where our directions got hazy. Just on the edge of Casper, Wyoming, we shifted north on the 25 and the Express Van check engine light started to flash. We kept going. What else could we do? I started to check fluid levels at gas stops.

We ran across a sign touting Edgerton 387 and rolled past it, but turned around and headed back. Our Map Quest direction seemed to push us back towards Casper. Something didn’t jive and we decided to over-ride the computer and reach for the GPS on the phone.

As soon as we turned northeast toward Edgerton and Wright, we seemed to be back on track. “It depends on if you indicated for the shortest possible route or the quickest route,” Dr. Hamster said, trying to explain the error of our ways. But Casper was back the other direction. With no time to lose, we kept moving.

We needed to be firmly entrenched in Deadwood by Saturday evening. We had shit to do on Sunday. There was the Flying Piston Builders Breakfast, the FXR Show, the Chip industry party and Michael Lichter’s Chip art, photography and bike exhibit. Mike does a masterful job of assembling a classic custom exhibit with a theme each year.

This event should be branded with Easyriders. I gave him his first Sturgis assignment in ’79 and he has rolled to the Badlands every year since for the ER mag group. Unfortunately, there’s a disconnect with the company.

About Wyoming from Wikipedia: Wyoming is a state in the mountain region of the western United States. The state is the tenth largest by area, the least populous and the second least densely populated state in the country. Wyoming is bordered on the north by Montana, on the east by South Dakota and Nebraska, on the south by Colorado, on the southwest by Utah, and on the west by Idaho. The state population was estimated at 586,107 in 2015, which is less than 31 of the largest U.S. cities. Cheyenne is the capital and the most populous city, with population estimated at 63,335 in 2015.

–Wikipedia

I believe we headed north on highway 59 into Gillette where we caught the 90 toward Sturgis. It’s like old home week as soon as you roll onto Interstate 90. There’s Sundance and the Dime Horse Shoe bar and two of the cutest sisters in Wyoming. Sundance has turned into its own event. There’s the small town of Beulah and street drags until someone said quit. Then we hit the South Dakota border and we were home.

We ran into some Hamsters somewhere. They rode from the east coast to the west coast to hook up with the Western contingent and then rode back. Serious riders. The number of riders riding in the opposite direction has always blown me away. Either they are headed home after rolling through the badlands before the rally, or as one rider said, “I’m not a crowd person.”

Then we slipped through the Hamster home of Spearfish and up the short highway to Deadwood and Adrian’s castles. He owns a small Victorian house on the south or east side of town and another historic mansion on the upper west or north side of town overlooking Deadwood.

Adrian was a Hamster and built the Cottonwood Lodge in Spearfish. He’s a perfectionist, an artist, and a master construction guy and wood worker. He’s been carefully and continuously restoring and renovating the Rose house for over a decade. Every room is carefully brought to life with ornate details and a masterful selection of hand picked historic artifacts and antiques. He slows down from time to time when funds run short or he drinks too much.

If he would sell me the smaller house, I would move to South Dakota and hide out for the rest of my life. We arrived in the afternoon and met up with Mike and Dr. Hamster. They jammed over to the Hamster kick-off party while we unloaded bikes and slipped into Deadwood for a quiet dinner at the number 10 Saloon.

The next morning, the Flying Piston Builders Breakfast called to us. “Get your ass over here,” Sugar Bear said on the phone.

“The Flying Piston Builders Breakfast which raised $8000 for Tech Education Scholarships, supported Krystal Hess’s Motorcycle Missions – which reaches out to veterans suffering from PTSD to help them gain skills through motorcycling such as metal fab and mechanics,” said Marilyn Stemp, the queen of the Flying Pistons. “Local high school graduate Ryan Jones also received a scholarship toward his choice of educational opportunities in the industrial arts.”

We unloaded the bikes the night before, and in the morning attempted to fire the Shovelhead. It wouldn’t budge. I was sure it was electrical, but Mike immediately pulled a plug and the spark was fine. Maybe it was the fuel?

There was talk of removing lines and dumping fuel, but I knew the tank was full of fresh fuel.

Franky and I devised a strange funnel and removed the brass cap on the S&S E float bowel. Mike also tinkered with Adrian’s CV carb Softail.

We drained the Shovelhead float into a makeshift plastic container. The milky substance was piss-yellow with scattered sediment and bubbles of what looked like water. It was a mess. We dumped it into a green tea container and filled the bowl a couple more times and let it flush—clear as a bell. The bike fired right up.

We were missing the FXR Show. “We had 79 FXRs and 39 Dynas roll in and raised $8700 for LifeScape,” said Marilyn, the Princess of the FXR Show. “Thanks to an anonymous donor who doubled the funds. Big Joe came into town for the show after all, making the day perfect! Huge thanks to the Buffalo Chip for hosting, Lisa Showers for organizing, and the many sponsors who pitched in.”

Eric Bennett, from Bennett’s Performance won the FXR show. We covered the build of his bike on Bikernet, helluva machine.

Thunderclouds over the Badlands threatened so we rolled into Sturgis immediately and checked in at Arlin Fatland’s 2Wheelers on main. His shop is amazing. He hauls an inventory from 2Wheelers Denver and sets up for the week. I find it interesting to watch the inventory change over the years.

Donna does an amazing job with custom apparel and leatherwork, and for years the shop was an old building fulla needed parts and supplies. In fact, 2Wheelers saved my ass a couple of times over the years, once in Denver and once in the Badlands.

Over the years, bikes changed and so did Arlin’s inventory until it was mostly fun stuff with dicey valve caps, mudflap girl accessories, tin signs and slinky clothes. But with the upsurge of bobbers and choppers parts are returning for early makes and custom bikes. We’ll see what happens next.

As we wandered the slightly less populated streets, I took inventory of the shops and stuff to do. I’ve never been a shopper, and it started to look like the options were limited to shopping for junk, except 2Wheelers, bars, food, patches, leather and tattoo parlors. Something hit me. This can’t represent the Sturgis rally.

Chris Callen set up at the massively cool educational display at the Iron Horse Saloon on Lazelle and kicked off something Billy Lane started years ago. The saloon was once branded the Easyriders Saloon but unfortunately it didn’t stick. Chris created a vibrant educational stage to show guys how to bend sheet metal, weld, fabricate, and even pinstripe and engrave. Franky and I are itching to try our hands at engraving.

I liked the notion of artisans lining the streets entertaining, selling their arts and training onlookers. David Uhl had a similar gig in Deadwood, where he works on one of his masterful originals in the Gold Dust Casino while discussing anything to do with art with folks from the streets.

Makes sense if we are no longer getting drunk and chasing whores, we might as well learn something. Seems my mom, who passed away last year, said something of this nature over and over to a younger me as I was caught fucking up. Maybe not exactly those words…

We slipped out to the chip and found the Michael Lichter Art exhibit containing art and bikes built by builders who were under 35 years of age. Rod Woodruff, who owns the Chip, built a building exclusively for Mike and his art exhibits. Michael does a masterful job of recruiting builders and artisans every year for his themed exhibits and he now has a home as he roams toward his 20th year and possibly retirement.

Builders from Motorcycles As Art: Old Iron Young Blood were the featured guests and it was heartening to see this group of 35-and-unders connecting with guys like John Reed and Rick Fairless, while also meeting each other and laying the foundation of their own networks. Emcee Bob Kay interviewed Rod Woodruff, Michael Lichter, Cris Summer Simmons among others.

 Frank and I attended Woody’s industry party and Bikernet was recognized.

Real briefly, those who’ve demonstrated the backbone, skills, determination and cojones to start a business, grow it and prosper amidst difficult economic challenges in an intensely competitive marketplace have earned respect and recognition.

The Buffalo Chip would like to give some love to those in the motorcycle industry who’ve achieved milestones. The Motorcycle Industry Reception held on the first Sunday of the Chip’s annual Industry party.

–Rod Woodruff
CEO Buffalo Chip

 

I fortunately hooked up with Bikernet Betsy in the rugged, grass strewn, Chip parking lot and Franky met her tattooed friend. A connection was made and the next day, he spent the day scooting the suicide clutch Shovelhead through the hilly streets of Deadwood chasing the brunette.

David Uhl offered to allow Franky to come to one of his artists’ sessions in Denver and she offered him a pad to hang in. Couldn’t be better.

Franky had a blast jamming up and down the streets of Deadwood, but we forgot to consider something. Both bikes were sorta old in ways but new builds. We should have followed the Eddie Trotta break-in code more closely.

They needed to be checked thoroughly for loose shit, shifted shit, or bad shit. We tinkered and tuned Monday and our missions included the mandatory Hamster Charity Banquet in Spearfish. Each year, the rodents collect over $200,000 for the Rapid City Children’s Hospital.

For years, half of the proceeds went to the Sturgis motorcycle museum until some politics crept into the mix. That cut any contribution to the motorcycle industry from this motorcycle group. Now, with more Hamsters and motorcycle folks on the Sturgis Museum board, some of us hope the Hamsters will contribute to the new museum.

Tuesday, we met with a leather manufacturer, Aaron from 1st Manufacturing and a longtime Bikernet contributor, David Campbell, who rode out from Ohio to crash at the Glencoe Campgrounds and enjoy the wild campgrounds action. That’s where the shit is really happening.

The weather was more than perfect and we dodged thunderstorms on our way in to the rally. I have a strange sense when is comes to weather. If you pay attention to the sunny heavens, they will guide you to safety. Don’t focus on the clouds, but on the clear skies around them. If no clearings exist, hide out.

 

We had one more mission, to attend the Sturgis Museum Hall of Fame breakfast. It was massive and kept selling out, even though there was an element of controversy, growing pains and major plans for the future.

I have taken my grandson to two Trailblazers banquets, which are absolutely inspirational and professionally produced. The Sturgis Museum faced issues in the past, but with some new motorcycle industry board members, hopefully they will find the right path moving forward.

Here’s the recent release regarding the Hall of Fame Breakfast, which Bikernet sponsored:
Sturgis, South Dakota, August 21, 2017 – Between the standing room only Class of 2017 Hall of Fame induction ceremony, the Pappy Hoel Speed Classic races and the brand new block party with bands going live at five on the Glencoe Stage every day, the 77th Sturgis Rally was rocking for the entire rally week! Better weather and a full schedule of events helped bump up attendance to more than 376,000 people this year.

“Come for the races, stay for the entertainment,” said Myrick Robbins, Executive Director for the Sturgis Museum & Hall Of Fame. Appropriately, things kicked off at the very same historic dirt track where it all began back in 1938. Backed by Coca Cola and area grocery stores, the Pappy Hoel Speed Classic roared into the Meade County Fairgrounds in downtown Sturgis on August 3-5.

“We were twisting the throttle to the stops with the Speed Classic, the inaugural Block Party co-hosted by our friends from Monster Energy and the annual Hall Of Fame ceremonies,” said Robbins. “But that is what the Sturgis Rally is all about. Founder J.C. ‘Pappy’ Hoel started with a race, and a week-long spectacle just sort of evolved from there.”

Also evolving was the Sturgis Block Party. For the first time this year, merchants on the newly revitalized Main Street teamed up with the Museum and Monster Energy to host a week-long event right in the heart of downtown. “Motorcycles, music and more… it was rocking,” said Robbins.

However, the Hall Of Fame Induction Ceremony presented by Strider Sports was definitely the highlight of the week. John Paul DeJoria, philanthropist co-founder of Paul Mitchell hair products and Patrón Spirits (as well as a Hall of Famer himself) emceed the class of 2017 induction ceremony in his own inimitable style… he even passed along some business advice to everyone in the room.

“I’d like to give you a little secret to building something,” said the man who went from being homeless to becoming a billionaire. “However you participate, whether it is as a rider, builder, or any way you participate in this industry, make sure the quality of what you personally do or the quality of the product you produce or the quality of the words you say are the finest quality in the world.”

When DeJoria started Patrón in 1989, it was the quality that made the difference. “Quality reaps longevity. Quality continuously keeps something going… and it is the quality of these people that will keep the industry and the Museum going.”

“The Sturgis Motorcycle Museum & Hall of Fame recognizes individuals or groups who have made a long-term, positive impact on the motorcycle community,” added Robbins. “We honor our Hall of Fame members by telling their stories and history, showcasing their contributions and accomplishments. In doing this, we hope to inspire our visitors and the riding community.”

The class of 2017 may have been the most influential and inspirational yet. From Lifetime Achievement honoree William G. Davidson to the Pappy Hoel Award winner Rod Woodruff, founder of The Buffalo Chip, the Lodge at Deadwood in Deadwood, South Dakota, was packed with the best and brightest in the motorcycle industry. Colleen Barnett-Taylor and Mike Taylor, Cory Ness, Mark Shadley, Jim Thiessen and Terry Vance comprised this year’s inductees.

“I get excited every year at Sturgis… I jump up and down a lot and I yell and scream and I blew out my voice, “said Lifetime Achievement honoree Willie G. after being introduced by his son and current director of the Harley Davidson Museum, Bill Davidson. “I would like to thank the Sturgis Hall of Fame for honoring me and I will always remember a day like today.”

Blown out voice or not, Willie rallied to conclude the ceremony, shouting a message near and dear to all the honorees, past and present: “Ride free! Sturgis forever!”

To keep the quality up as suggested by John Paul DeJoria and to keep Sturgis forever as Willie G. called for, any and all donations are welcome. Donate through http://www.sturgismuseum.com/Contribute

We started loading bikes and gear Tuesday. We had a mission to return for a special party celebrating Franky’s sister heading off to college on Saturday. Franky was under pressure, so instead of riding to the breakfast, we loaded and prepped to peel out as soon as the breakfast was over.

Adrian came with us to hang out and visited with the bros. Traveling bros recommended several scenic routes, including through Escalante, Bryce, Hatch, Zion and St. George, but we faced family pressures. I wanted to show Franky more of the Badlands, but we couldn’t take the time. We hit Interstate 90 west to Buffalo, then off at the 16 to Woreland, where I hit a deer in 2001 and ended in the Casper Hospital.

We spent the night in Thermopolis where I tried to reach my Wyoming love, Deborah Wood, another redhead who owned several hair salons. She was returning from Salt Lake and radiation treatments for cancer. She grew up on crop-dusted farms dusting the pesticides off her shoulders as she worked in the fields. Over 14 members of her family faced the onslaught of various cancers; half of them have died so far.

She showed up at our motel room door near the Thermopolis hot steam baths, bald, but with a gleaming smile. We shared a few moments and she moved on toward home. The cancer death and money machine was taking its toll on her, but we will keep the faith.

We moved on the next morning through one of the best mountain pass rides in Wyoming heading toward the Boysen reservoir. It winds comfortably along the Big Horn River against jagged stone walls and through cool mountain tunnels. Often, a massive thundering freight train pulling 50 cars will pace us on the other side of the canyon.

We kept chugging along through Riverton and Lander on Highway 28 heading to Farson and beyond toward Kemmerer while looking for a place to eat. We found it, while searching the triple-town dinky area of Frontier, Kemmerer and Diamondville. None of these small, scattered burgs exceeded the 2,000 population mark.

 

Raquel couldn’t speak much English but her dark thick wavy ponytail, broad smile and bright brown eyes held great enthusiasm for the menu and I couldn’t resist an Avocado omelet and pumpkin pancakes. Franky and I shared the sizzling pancakes, and when I asked for a card her eyes lit up one final time as we departed. Damn.

We drove around the block and back onto highway 189, heading for the 80 in Evanston and the 6,780-foot pass into Salt Lake. It was our mission to skirt the city, avoid the 15 and stay on the 80 due west across the flat salty brine for 100 miles into Bonneville for a brief glimpse and then into Wendover, Nevada.

The trip was winding down as soon as we turned left or south on the 93 in Wells and began slicing through Nevada. That’s when our issues started with the trailer. We hit a bad patch of construction on the two-laner as soon as we entered highway 93. I attempted a nap when Frankie announced, “We need to pull over!”

The narrow highway wasn’t designed with an emergency lane, but a small gravel strip a couple of feet wide. We pulled over and discovered a broken strap, but we tide it securely and the extra strap material held it solidly in place. We discussed nefarious intent at our last stop by a slippery young character, who quizzed us about the bikes.

Then I looked down at the trailer fender and discovered an annihilated taillight. The case was destroyed, the red lense gone and the wires disconnected. Again, we discussed the bad guy until I looked at the tire. The tread delaminated, separated from casing flew over the fender and shattered the taillight. Unfortunately, wiring ran under the fender, so it was gone with the power to the other taillight.

We went into action changing the tire and fixing the strap. The van’s jack worked like a champ to lift the trailer and we were on the road in a matter of 30 minutes. We had 140 miles to reach Ely where we might crash for the night.

This is where I made my first mistake, but the time issue pressed my mind. Later, I spoke to Steve Massicotte, from Paughco. “Anytime I lose a trailer tire, I have the damaged one fixed at the next Walmart.”

I dislike what Walmart has done to small business in our country. I won’t go there, but Pep Boys, or maybe any tire shop could possibly have done the trick. We blazed into Ely in the late afternoon through broad spans of desert and low hills.

Ely (EE-lee) is the largest city and county seat of White Pine County, Nevada, United States. Ely was founded as a stagecoach station along the Pony Express and Central Overland Route. In 1906, copper was discovered and Ely’s mining boom came later than the other towns along US 50. The railroads connecting the First Transcontinental Railroad to the mines in Austin, Nevada and Eureka, Nevada have long been removed, but the railroad to Ely is preserved as a heritage railway by the Nevada Northern Railway and known as the Ghost Train of Old Ely. As of the 2010 census, the population was 4,255.

–Wikipedia

We cruised through town discussing the road ahead, the desire to roll on into Vegas another 150 miles or finding a place. We stopped and topped off. I asked Franky to ask the frumpy girls in the station for motel recommendations. They didn’t have much and described a historic hotel with a Denny’s restaurant on the Southern edge of town. There had to be something better or more unique.

They didn’t mention the Prospector Casino just three blocks behind us, so of course we went there. It looked serious with the lot full of rigs and vehicles. Upon entering the lobby we immediately noticed Harleys on display, antiques and bronze sculptures of massive Dobermans. Western art by Tim Cox adorned the walls and the clerk at the counter was more than upbeat and helpful.

I’m mentioning these items, because we ran into less than stellar facilities in some towns. I could stay in a shed if the smiling girl at the counter offered assistance and a reasonable price. Too often, since we didn’t negotiate with a myriad of facilities before entering town, they would hit us with restrictions and a heavy price.

This woman made sure we had a room overlooking our rig and proper parking for our trailer. The in-house Mexican restaurant was locally operated and the staff bent over backwards to make weary traveling bikers comfortable. This could possibly be our last stop on the road. This place was very well thought out, from the amenities to the room design.

We got up the next morning, grabbed coffee, toast and hit the road. This was the juncture of our excitement meter. We thought we were cool rolling south on Highway 6, the shortcut off Highway 93. It merges onto the 319 for 94 miles to Hiko. We were cool and comfortable, trying to get the hang of playing the harmonica, when I noticed the trailer fender on my side bouncing. I should have pulled over immediately but noo, and then the tire exploded about 30 miles from Hiko.

There’s no help in Hiko. The tire delaminated, 86’d the fender taillight and we discussed plan A to panic in the desert, eat peyote buttons from the cactus and trip out. Or plan B, take a bike off the trailer, the Shovelhead, which Franky would ride to lighten the load on the damaged tire we could not swap out, the spare already in use.

We removed the Shovel and Franky fired it up. It ran for a minute then started to squeal like a baby without a drop of milk. It had oil and the oil gauge indicated pressure. We shifted to Plan C; pull the factory racer off the trailer and loaded the Shovelhead.

We did, he fired the racer and I drove slowly, hoping the trailer tire would hold for 30 miles to reach Alamo and help. It made it five miles then exploded. We pulled off the highway again in the hot desert. I heard rattlesnakes communicating in the tumbleweeds. We were surrounded. Buzzards circled overhead in the blistering sun.

This time the tire tread not only shredded the taillight but also mangled the fender. We stood looking at the wreckage. Frankie took a screen shot of the trailer to capture the location of the carnage. Bits of tire carcass peppered the highway.

I started to talk about plan A. We were still at least 30 to 50 miles to any service area. We could leave the trailer and go in search of another tire and lose a couple of hours if we were successful. The trailer was so damaged we could not drive at night. Replacing the taillights would take additional retail resources and a couple more hours. Even with a new tire and new taillights, the left fender would need to be removed and beat back into some kind of useable shape, before we could install a new taillight.

Plan B called for measuring the Shovelhead to see if it would fit in the back of the van. I keep a wheel chock between the two passenger captains seats in the van at all times. You never know. We measured the Shovelhead from the new Paughco higher handlebars to the ground and from tire to tire. A miracle, it would fit. We unhooked the dying trailer and shoved it aside. We grappled with the steep ramp and Franky crawled into the back of the high-top van and pulled on the front wheel.

The front 21-inch tire started to slip into the chock, but the front end ran into the arms on the leather chairs.

“Gramps,” Franky said, “not sure the front end will fit between the chairs.”

“Fuck it,” I said. “We’re burning daylight. Give it hell.” I knew it would work—sorta. Or we could release one of the chairs for additional room. We shoved, the chock held the wheel straight and the thick arms held the springer front end absolutely tight. It worked once before with a smaller bike; why not? We didn’t need any straps. The Shovelhead locked into place. It didn’t budge.

 

Franky climbed aboard the Factory Racer after we topped off the tanks and headed toward Alamo. No service existed between us and the small town of 1080 folks along highway 93. Some 90 miles separated Alamo from Vegas. My fingers were crossed. Part of Plan B was a longtime friend of mine in Vegas, Joe Zanelli, who owns Rocky’s 24-hour sports bar on Maryland Parkway.

If we could make it to his location in 107 degree heat through Vegas traffic, I could leave the bike with Joe and get Franky back to LA in time for his sisters going-to-college party, which we thought was a dinner gathering on Saturday. We thought we were golden to stop, have dinner with Joe and crash for the night, or…?

Franky rode the Racer into Alamo about 55 miles from where we left the trailer in the weeds. We grabbed a bite to eat, cooled off some and he straddled the racer and kept going into the desert. Five miles out of town he rolled off the highway. My heart raced.

 

The highway held another two-foot gravel space then a sharp decline into a drainage ditch. I couldn’t pull over. More and more trucks and massive construction equipment thundered toward Interstate 15. I searched the road for a wide spot and found something 100 yards ahead. I walked back. Out of gas, I trudged back to the van for our 5-gallon tank.

I had explained the reserve tank to Franky, but he didn’t react quickly enough. We refilled all the tanks and he kept rolling, but only for a mile or two then pulled off again. Again, I couldn’t stop, but found a spot ahead. My nerves were on edge. My brain constantly recalibrated distances to the Loves Truck Stop at the interchange and the additional 50 miles into Vegas.

The racer reacted to the empty tank and caught an air bubble in the lines. We cleared the issue and he moved along again. Once more it blubbered. I was out of plans if the racer didn’t make it to Vegas. I scoured thoughts of strapping the racer to the back of the Van knowing full well is wasn’t in the cards. This vintage looking scooter with dinky tanks had to make the grade.

We rolled into Loves and topped off again. This time he drove the van, which now felt light and agile without the trailer. I straddled the Crazy Horse 100-inch V-Twin and shifted the tank shifter into gear. It desperately needed a tune-up, chain adjustment, you name it. I rolled onto the freeway surrounded by semis, construction equipment and luxury cars, all in a hurry.

I nailed it and it sputtered like before when I fought tuning issues. I backed off and turned the throttle gingerly to prevent the sputtering, in hopes to make the final 45 miles into town. Just barely on the outskirts of glitter-town traffic backed up. Hot as hell, I tried to keep moving, although lane splitting is not allowed. I still found constant openings and darted from lane to lane in the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Just once I was forced to put a boot on the pavement.

Franky knew what off-ramp to take. He couldn’t keep up with me. I pulled off the wide sizzling concrete freeway at the South Point Casino, made a left and looked for a place to pull over and wait for Franky and the van.

I immediately turned off the ignition switch. Way too fucking hot to let it idle, my legs sizzled from the oil tank heat and the engine. I spread my legs and placed my leather boots on the pavement. In less than five minutes I spotted the Bikernet high-top van at the intersection and fired up the Racer.

Just five miles to go to find a friendly smile, a safe storage spot, a very cool drink and terrific food at Rocky’s. Walking inside from the extreme dry heat was like a reprieve from hell’s holding cell. We stowed the bike, washed our hands and faces and hit the bar.

During dinner at about 7:00 pm Franky said. “I’ll drive.”

I took him up on it. The van held enough gas to take us from the outskirts of Vegas to the Bikernet Headquarters about 275 miles without a stop. We blazed and made it in exactly four hours.

As we rolled along, Franky said, “Are you bummed about the trailer?

“Fuck no,” I said, “Our mission is complete. Besides our next mission is Bonneville 2018 and we will need a new trailer for the Salt Torpedo.”

Addiction doesn’t just affect individuals, it seeps into the lives of anyone and everyone around them, especially those that love them unconditionally. Sadly as is my family’s experience, the more you love them, the more susceptible you are to the disease yourself. My little sister has suffered lifetime of one addiction, or another. I live while I live in California she has remained in our native Minnesota. I am separated from her addiction only by miles in the legal ramifications that keep her from Legally leaving the state. I wake up everyday to Sunshine and birds singing. Yet every single day my family lives with the worry that this will be the day that my sister doesn’t wake up at all.

   Yep, it’s a trick question in a couple of ways. But yes, nickel plays a major part in the build and the opportunity to own it. Bottom line, for 200 nickels aka ten bucks you have a chance to take this tasty 100% nickel-plated 1950 Triumph home. That’s thanks to a raffle offered courtesy of the Venice Vintage Motorcycle Club as part of the festivities celebrating their 10th Annual Rally and Bike Show, the event taking place on Saturday, September 16 in Venice, CA, of course.

 
   The team that built El Dorado consists of VVMC members Farin Hoover and his friend Matt Rowe, both also playing in a band together. We spoke with Farin to get the build details and learned that he’s actually from Akron, Ohio, now developing his career in SoCal as a audio enginer working on commercials. He’s a young professional working in the creative arena as are many of the members of the VVMC. Also it turns out his first street bike and which he restored is a 1971 Honda 500-4 previously owned by his grandfather, the bike shipped to L.A. from Ohio. It also turns out that his grandfather who worked for Goodyear was literally the guy that cast the race tires for the legendary Bobby Unser when he won the 1975 Indy 500.

 

   As far as paint, like chrome, don’t look for it. The bike benefits from top class powder coating courtesy of Safe Way Sandblaster and Powdercoating in Culver City, another of the bike build’s sponsor. Says Farin, “That two-tone golden color they helped us choose is called Illusion Dorado which turned into the inspiration for the personality of the bike, Matt and I having always wanted to build like an old desert racer.” Icing on the golden cake so to speak was the pinstriping and brass goldleaf artwork created by L.A. artist Sonny Boy whose work has been commissioned by Roland Sands, Powerplant Choppers and Heroes Motorcycles among others.

 

 

Editor’s Note: Commander Edge of the SmokeOut knows the Chopper Code. He knows what it’s like to ride a minimalist chopper on the long road, and he is constantly studying the mission. Last time he wrote a piece about the smallest tool bag possible.

http://www.bikernet.com/pages/5Ball_Racing_Bagger_ProjectPart_7.aspx

Let’s see how he does with camping.

Carpe diem, a phrase that comes from the Roman poet Horace, means literally “Pluck the day”, though it’s usually translated as “Seize the day”. A free translation might be “Enjoy yourself while you have the chance”. For some people, Carpe diem serves as the closest thing to a philosophy of life as they’ll ever have.

 Carpe Camping

Mark Farrar knows where the bodies are buried. He has been supportive of all my good ideas and more importantly supportive through the consequences from my bad ideas since the 5th grade. We have touched the infinite, experienced the good, seen beauty, and debated truth. We’ve had brushes with death and brushes with the law. I introduce him as a friend from college because, well… friend from the 5th Grade just sounds weird. He called me when he found out he had Esophageal cancer. He called me a couple weeks later when more results showed it was in his lymph nodes and the cancer had gone into his liver.

We have been blessed with lives of epic adventure, decades spotted with nights in tents under starry skies. A post chemo motorcycle trip seemed like something that needed to be planned. We planned but I wasn’t sure if it would happen. I hoped. Camping would have to be part of this adventure as a salute to many past camping trips. We needed to get back to something we did as kids.

So… this isn’t about that trip really, except one night. One night when we didn’t camp, which I know is a little weird because this is about camping. It should be nice in South Carolina in March and it was for the two weeks before we left. It was beautiful. We had perfect camping weather and then, days before we left it got colder than a well digger’s ass. I have this image of a bearded old sea Captain talking about a Nor’easter.

It snows every third year in Columbia, SC and it was snowing the day Mark, Jeff Najar and I bungee corded the bags to the bikes and left. The snow kept falling and it just seemed to keep getting colder as we rode. Rich from American Biker, the Charleston Indian Dealer, was waiting with a speed boat when we hit the Atlantic Ocean. The plan was to camp on Wolf Island which is only reachable by boat. I was miserable, shaking and I hadn’t gone through months of chemo. Rich was excited. Wolf Island is just that cool. It was a tough call NOT to camp that night.

We felt, actually we knew, we were missing out on something great. But, as it always seems to happen when we stay open to the whims of the universe, we had an incredible night. We started with dinner at a four-star restaurant in Charleston and then Rich talked us into “one drink.” We met Rich’s friends, most of them in their 20s, including Montel William’s wonderful daughter, Maressa Williams, gave Mark a lot of encouragement for his battle with cancer. We fought with a claw arcade game that stole our money. We listened to the struggles of the next generation. We closed the bar and then we stood on the outside deck and we all sang Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” together at 3:00 am. The moment that we seized wasn’t meant for camping… not that night.

We camped the next three nights. It never really warmed up but we had a blast as our Harleys bounced around Florida before we stopped in Daytona.

Everyone who has camped enough has a story about the night they planned to camp and didn’t. This idea is… well, the opposite of that. This is about having a warm and comfortable bed that you don’t use. Staying open to the whims of the universe. Being ready to camp when you encounter a night that has to be celebrated with nothing between you and the stars. It’s getting back to something you did years ago maybe… but without the associated hassle.

I realized on a perfect night, you need very little equipment to camp comfortably. This concept is to pack just a few things and be ready to take advantage of ideal conditions, staying open to small but epic adventures.

For me, naming ideas can be really helpful. The first name that came to mind was “68 degree” camping. The day is a perfect 68 degrees and it’s starting to cool just a little with a light breeze as the sun sets. Basically, this is just camping when the conditions are perfect.

Then I thought of the name “Inadvertent camping,” to separate it from the idea of deliberate camping. I still do some deliberate camping, as in camping is my primary plan, and I bring all the necessary stuff. It takes a lot more stuff when it could be cold or hot. When it’s a rain or shine proposition, you need lots of stuff. You have to have a shelter for rain and a bigger bag in case it’s cold, plus all the stuff for meals. There is a lot of stuff to prepare and a lot of stuff to put away when you get back. I do very little deliberate camping now. I have found a better way. This is ideal for people who used to camp and haven’t in years because of the hassle.

Then I thought of maybe calling it “Luck” camping. It’s cliché but true. Luck is when preparation meets opportunity. You encounter a perfect night, but you can only make the most of it if you are prepared with the essential gear.

However, I eventually settled on “Carpe Camping.” Most are familiar with the Latin phrase, “Carpe Diem” which is typically translated into English as “seize the day.” Carpe more literally means “pluck” like you might pick a piece of fruit, at the moment of perfect ripeness. This idea is to keep the most minimal amount of stuff on your motorcycle to camp when these opportunities arise, and seize it.

Most people can make a list of the advantages of camping. Getting back to nature… ya da ya da. They are all true and important but there is no reason to repeat them here. Getting “back to nature” really can’t be overemphasized. Connecting to the infinite shouldn’t be sold short. However, I want to add a few reasons… to the list of reasons to camp.

We need to get out of our comfortable beds and our comfortable houses sometimes to reset our comfort meters. Anything that takes measurements needs to be re-calibrated occasionally. We can get acclimated to any level of comfort, regardless of how plush or soft. In my twenties, I could sleep well on cement. Back in the day, sitting up on any airplane was an invitation for a good power nap. Good sleep has gotten more elusive as I’ve aged. Part of this is because I have a type of arthritis that can affect different joints at times. It’s not just that though, because too many of my friends tell me the same thing. I’ve seen tons of articles about how to get a good night’s sleep with special mattresses or sheets and even the smell of lavender helps… or whatever. Those articles are written for someone who ran out of whiskey.

A good mattress (or whatever) can allow you to sleep more comfortably, but I do not think that’s the entire solution. I bought a Termperpedic mattress years ago and I couldn’t believe how much better I slept, at first, but after a while I wasn’t sleeping as well again. I slept even worse on crappy hotel mattresses.

Oddly enough, I found an answer where I wasn’t looking for one. In a place that seems unrelated. “Asceticism” is the idea of a self-disciplined avoidance of all forms of indulgence. It could be argued that our predominate culture today doesn’t understand the need for suffering and that many people ultimately believe the purpose of life is for all people to be comfortable, to avoid suffering. That’s a notion that I reject entirely but that conversation is best suited for an adult beverage in front of a crackling fireplace.

Regardless, the idea of “asceticism” is pretty unpopular today and it’s seen as archaic. My personal experience is that some fasting is what really wakes up my taste buds. Go without food for just a day and suddenly almost everything taste great. Sleeping on the floor can do a similar thing.

The last several months I have sleep on the floor one night a week. It’s a chance to try out camping blankets and pads but really, it’s a way to offer a small sacrifice and it’s an attempt to develop some self-discipline (which I know I desperately need). No surprise, I don’t sleep as well on the floor, and I can be achy the next day. The big surprise is that I sleep so much better the other six nights. I “rediscover” how great my real bed feels again. I didn’t see that coming.

In a way, I think this is why everyone should consider camping occasionally. If you want to rediscover the wonder of a modern bed or indoor plumbing 15 feet from your bed, camp out.

Allow me one more, seemingly unconnected deviation. I’m a planner. I wrote detailed operations orders in the military with alternate and contingency plans for when something went wrong with the first plan. Generally speaking, spontaneity, surprise and mystery are not highly prized goals of a good military operation, or any life-or-death plan really. Coming from my background, I have to consciously make an effort to not over plan my road trips because spontaneity, staying open to the possibilities of the moment, is the difference between good road trips and great road trips. Carpe Camping is spontaneous. Being ready for a possible moment makes pulling the trigger more likely.

One more tip though. The more people involved the less spontaneous you can be without total chaos ensuing. Unplanned, or less planned, trips are easiest alone but for me it’s a lot more fun to have a cohort in crime. The ideal partner has a good sense of humor when nothing works out well. The ideal for me is two people, three at the most.

So, on with it: Here is the gear I recommend. Less is more. Adding something unneeded is as bad as forgetting something. Extremely minimal gear. Simplicity. Getting by with less stuff is part of beauty of Carpe Camping. Practically speaking, if your kit is too big you will end up leaving it at home. I’ll give you my list and then provide a few comments on each piece of gear.

This is also everything you need (actually more) to crash on a hotel room floor when the hotel prices have doubled during popular motorcycle rallies. This money saving point alone may make it worth getting a kit together.

Sleeping Pad
Tech Blanket or Quilt
Pillow sack (maybe)
Esbit pocket stove with fuel tabs
Lighter
Stainless steel cup
Hot cocoa, soup mix, instant coffee
Spoon
Flashlight (probably don’t need a headlamp)
Wysi towels (don’t need a trowel)

Pick up water and food
Optional – poncho and some cord
This assumes you already have a knife and a bandanna.

For me, the most important item on this list is the sleeping pad. If you’re some young buck who can get a good rest on cold cement, god love ya. I’m not. I’m about to talk more about this subject than you may ever want to know.

I’m also going to talk exclusively about ThermaRest products. I’ve tried more than my fair share of other products and I have been let down more often than not, even with some very expensive products. One expensive pad was so slick I would wake up several times a night after I slid off of it. I’m also probably a little biased in the sense that I remember the old, thin, closed cell foam pads we would use in the Army and when I got my first ThermaRest, it was like some magical device that had to have been manufactured by elves. We would purchase the ThermaRest pads to replace the army issued pads with our own money.

I would spend weeks sleeping on the ground and a lot of times we would move locations almost every day. The ThermaRest pad was literally life changing. In the last several years the military did extensive test to choose a self-inflating pad to issue the troops. ThermaRest got the contract, which is a huge statement. Even if you don’t go with Thermarest though, the criteria I use to discuss which pad to select will be useful for pads manufactured by any company.

So let’s talk about sleeping pads. First, there are basically three types of pads, closed cell foam, self-inflating (with a foam core) and the ones you inflate (blow up) that don’t have a foam core.

The closed cell pads have come a long way and they are way more comfortable these days. They are far less expensive and they are definitely the most durable. A sharp little rock you failed to notice isn’t going to defeat this pad. I also do not like to leave the other two types rolled up indefinitely so I have a Z Lite Sol pad that stays in my truck. The downside is they don’t pack down so you have to have space for them. I don’t care for them for this application, (Carpe Camping) because I want something that packs up small.

Self inflating pads have a foam core that smashes down when you roll them up. When it’s time to get ready to use them, you just leave the valve open and in about 20 minutes the pad is within a breath or two of the proper inflation level. They roll down “fairly” small.

The inflating pads without a foam core used to be a bit of a pain to inflate (and get the air out of in the morning), however, the advent of the “SV,” speed valve, has been a game changer. These new pads with a speed valve inflate and deflate easily and quickly. However, if they do get punctured they are basically worthless for that night until you can amend things with a repair kit. These pads pack up the smallest and that is the main reason this type of pad is my first choice for “Carpe” camping. However, if I’m sure I will camp I grab the foam core pad. I still find the foam core pads a bit more comfortable. It’s close.

So, I will try to make some quick recommendations. None of these pads are designed specifically for motorcycle travel and the number of choices on the ThermaRest website can be daunting. I think I spent two weeks comparing specifications. Then I purchased several and I continued to swap pads around and sleep on each about one night a week for about half a year. The following is what I think I know but you might not feel the same way. I do think my experiences are a good starting point though.

The first thing you have to decide is size. Definitely full body length. Don’t even think about the short pads with nothing under your legs. Trust me. However, there are 20” wide pads and 25” wide pads. I am a pretty big guy at 6’0” tall and around 200 pounds and I move around a lot in my sleep. The 20” is adequate for me, as long as it is a complete rectangle. Anything that tapers down and I am opting for the 25” wide pad because I’ll sleep on my side at times and I want my knees on the pad. Base this call on your size.

So here is my thought process. I don’t care about the weight of a pad for motorcycle travel, it’s completely irrelevant. The more durable fabrics weigh more but hardly take up any more space. Pads come in fabric like 30D, 50D and 75D. Seventy-five D is the most durable. Durability is a big deal and I have subjectively determined I want 75D on the bottom and at least 50D on top.

R-value is how well the pad insulates you from the ground. The suggestion is at least an R2 for summer camping and I will say that I prefer an even higher R value, at least R3. I’ll use a pad with rounded edges in a hammock on occasion and I do appreciate the experience of the pads with a higher R value. It’s also noticeable on cold concrete.

As far as the thickness of the pad, I have tried pads from 1 inch thick to three inches three inches thick, in half inch increments. I like to sink into my pad a bit and less than two inches thick definitely feels less comfortable to me. However, over two inches thick doesn’t seem to add much comfort for me though (in most pads but not all). The pads with no form core start to give me a less comfortable “pool raft” experience, even though they are definitely much more comfortable than an actual pool raft.

So, based on the criteria above all the choices on the ThermaRest website come down to this. There is only one mattress in each category that meet all of my criteria for motorcycle Carpe camping. My first pick is an inflatable pad (with no foam core). I recommend the “Trecker SV.” It’s comfortable, durable and packs down ridiculously small.

The smaller Trekker is on the left, Trail Pro on the right.

For a self-inflating foam core pad the “Trail Pro,” is the pad that meets all of the above criteria. This pad does have a larger packed size than the Trecker pad. However, I’m willing to give up the extra couple inches if I am “pretty sure” I’m camping because I find this the Trail Pro, super comfortable.

I’ll deviate for just a second and mention that the Trail Pro is one of the two Thermarest pads offered in the Areostitch catalog and I’m not surprised. I’ll spend months contemplating the smallest, most minute, details before I routinely carry one piece of gear over another. Every trip I take I’m evaluating some piece of kit and taking notes. After a while I started to realize a ridiculous number of times the piece of gear that I pick as “the best” is in the Aerostitch catalog. After this experience, I have conceded they must have a madly efficient testing protocol and I wrote myself a note to check what’s in Areostitch catalog first, before I start testing anything now. Just saying. I realized a long time ago anyone who got all of their riding gear from just the Aerostitch catalog would be pretty well set knowing they have the best of the best.

Tech blanket

First let me say I am a fan of natural materials and I have spent a long time trying Mexican blankets, wool blankets and a host of other things but I finally just gave up. These technical materials are just too good. These new tech blankets pack small and they are comfy as a grilled cheese sandwich and hot tomato soup on a cold rainy day.

The Chorus HD Quilt is on the left. The Argo is on the right.

I have a large, ThermaRest, Corus HD quilt that is somehow cool when it’s warm and ridiculously warm when it’s cold. The only downside is that it is pricey. I can also recommend the ThermaRest Argo tech blanket. It is more than adequate for nice nights and hotel room floors. It actually packs smaller than the Corus quilt and is comparatively inexpensive.

Stove – Esbit pocket stove with fuel tabs. Inexpensive, small, works great. Keep it in a separate plastic bag with two packets of bug deterrent. The fuel tabs fit inside the stove.

Lighter – mini Bic. 

Wysi towels – sometimes you just need a something like this and they stack nicely inside a waterproof matchstick case. This also fits in the canteen cup with the other stuff.

Hot cocoa, soup mix, instant coffee and spoon – Even just being stuck somewhere it’s nice to just relax with a hot beverage.

A canteen cup is wide and I can pack the stove, lighter, bug repellent packets, soup mix, coffee, hot chocolate and a flashlight inside.

Stainless steel cup – There are all kinds of cups in the world that will work fine. My personal preference is the military issue canteen cup. I don’t care for the superlight, cool cups that fit nicely around the bottom of a Nalgene water. I don’t find them useful in this application. I don’t carry water or food in case I might camp. If I decide it’s a great night for the outdoors I’ll hit a store and pick up some bottled water and whatever food I’m feeling at the time. What I really want is something tough that sort of doubles as a pot for soup.

Adding a tarp with some cord and I have all the equipmet I need to camp in the rain but this is almost transitioning to real camping.

That is all the necessary equipment to camp in ideal conditions but I also need to say just a few words about where to camp. Once you get in the right mindset you start to realize there are great spots, for just a pad and a tech blanket, in all kinds of places.

Walk 100 yards down a wooded path and quite often you will find a flat, comfortable, secluded spot quicker than you might imagine. Even relatively urban areas have flat inviting spaces tucked away. Next time you are at a shop party, ask yourself, “Where would I crash if I had to sleep here tonight?” It a fun mental exercise that prepares you for Carpe Camping.

This is the opposite of finding a hotel on a really miserable night that you planned to camp. This is about recognizing a beautiful night and ditching the hotel room for a change. This is reconnecting with something you used to do… and maybe reconnecting with a younger version of yourselves.

This started with a camping trip after the news of a friend’s battle with cancer, which it appears, against all odds, he has won. That trip got me camping again but now I camp in a more mature, should I dare to say, “distinguished” fashion. Carpe Camping has allowed me to “reconnect,” with something I used to do. More importantly it allows me to seize the moment.

 

 

 

 

 

 
I also found that Biltwell’s ‘Clubman’ handlebar gave me a different look and a wee bit more room and I didn’t have to change cables…

Peace

Ride Safe