The sad and infuriating story of the custom bike stolen from the Eastside dealership recently made me think of something from the good old days. The stolen bike was referred to as a ‘custom bike’, by the media. It had been built as a tribute, in some way, and was valued at nearly fifty thousand dollars.

“Factory choppers” is another term for that type of bike, and it has come to mean those bikes that are built to look as if they are one-off customs. The whole idea of a ‘chopper’ started out as a form of lightening and hot-rodding up the bikes of the fifties, sixties and early seventies, so they made a personal statement, as well as went fast.
continue reading "Build ‘em or Buy ‘em"

As it happens every year around this time, I found myself in the garage twiddling around with the scoot in preparation for the Oyster Run. I figured that, since it is the 25^th anniversary of the Run, I should maybe scrape some of the larger hunks of dirt from the bike.

Gotta look good, ya know.

With one thing and another, the time had run out on me, as also usually happens this time of year, so it was the night before the run. So I decided to just pack up and ride.
continue reading "Oyster Run Fun"

As I slid along the pavement, I had plenty of time to think.

In the four or five seconds it took to leave the paved surface of the road and hit the gravel, a whole range of questions and scenarios rolled through my mind.

There was, of course, the instant of denial and the inevitable, “Oh S@%T” factor: “I can’t believe I just let it get out from under me like that. Man, this is gonna hurt.” This went through my mind fairly quickly, because the edge of the road surface was rapidly approaching me and I had to think over other things.

The surroundings of this little tableau were actually quite nice. Sunny day, dry road surface, nice greenery on either side. No shoulder to speak of. The road had been making a gentle left hand bend, which, in the wonderful words of the professionals at the scene, I had “failed to negotiate.”
continue reading "Taking it Down"

Musings on Summer Riding, Part Tres

Oh, I know….it’s too easy to go for a ride and find all kinds of great places to carve turns and roll on the throttle through a canyon or two, or even enjoy the scenery of a ride along the shore of one of the hundreds of lakes or shorelines.

But the REALLY important stuff is about where you’re gonna stop to eat! [If you are looking for some great road food, check out NorthwestCycleNews.com sister site, BikerCuisine.com - Ed.]

I have friends who live to get out there and just rack up the miles. These iron-butted individuals thin nothing of rolling on four or five hundred miles a day, all weekend. The only thing they stop for is gas and bladder relief.

In fact, these guys don’t stop for the weakest bladder in the group; it’s the STRONGEST bladder that determines the stopping places. Talk about iron!
continue reading "Musings on Summer Riding, Part Tres"

Bugsplat Heaven. That’s what it is.

Geez, I love riding in the summer. Communing with nature and the song of the road. You can ride along at whatever speed floats your boat, and just become one with the wind and the gentle …

Splat.

OK. Now that was just a fluke. How could a bug come out of nowhere and ride the wind currents directly into my nostril? Ah well, at least it was just a little bug. You can snoff a no-see-um right out with a quick snort and be on your way.
continue reading "Musings on Summer Riding, part 2"