New Years Message

Yesterday I was inspired with a New Years message for the World.


I stopped at Dave’s to see what was going on. My inspiration did not occur there. All we did at Dave’s was play with his son’s toys. What else do you expect two grown men to do? New toys, let’s play! My inspiration took place a few blocks from there.

On the way home I saw a bike waiting to pull out into traffic. For an instance I thought I recognized the bike, but the rider was all wrong. I watched in the mirror and let him get next to me. Yep, that was the bike. I hadn’t seen it in over ten years, but I was the same bike. The rider was vaguely familiar. I shouted over: “Do I know you?” He just shrugged.

We pulled on the shoulder. After the introductions were made, it was the SOB I logged a butt-load of miles with years ago. I thought he moved out of the area. He looked like shit. I mean really bad. Like he just crawled out from under a f’ing rock. The bike looked good. So we gabbed like two old hens at a picket fence for a while. This is when I was suddenly inspired with the wisdom of the world.

Since I’ve seen him: Mom died. Inherited her house. It’s a small house and he can barely afford the taxes. Son and his wife moved in. Has a live in girlfriend. Laid-off eight months ago. On pain meds from a bad back. And, his ex-wife moved in! WTF! Now there’s a Brother that needs help. Not help with life, it’s your life and you live it how you want. He’s not much of a wrench; so maybe I could help save him a few bucks on a car or bike repair. Maybe just sit and let him bend my ear for a while. Sometimes that’s all it takes.

Here’s the part that really pissed on my inspiration. We both still have the same phone number and the others number in our damn cells. Just drifted away. I’ll be getting a hold of him this weekend to see if I can’t help out a old Bro that’s been through the meat grinder.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is that as fucked up as this world is getting we all need a little help once in a while. Or we can help someone else with our special skills. And I mean help, not charity. Most of the folks I know won’t accept charity. But they will accept help from a friend.

So the words in this song are my New Years message to the World.

Chain ?

In keeping with Wooley’s theme of wondering about stuff on Monday’s, there’s something I’ve always wondered about…chain. Good ole’ tow-chain, tie-down-chain, just chain. The stuffs been around forever. Nothing beats a six foot piece of chain when the need a’rises. Here’s the question: Why is it you always see someone ‘dragging’ a chain?




If anyone can answer that, please enlighten this old fart. It’s always puzzled me. I was puzzled by that chicken or the egg thing for years until I found out it was the ‘rooster’.

11-11-11 Parade

Here’s the pictures from the First Annual Salinas Veterans Day Parade. No editing, no nothing. Just the way they were taken. If anything is out of focus just squint and take a shot of JD. You’ll never know the difference.

Nothing Changes

Anybody remember Barry McGuire? In 1965 he did a song named “Eve of Destruction”. It was one of those radical anti-government protest songs. Some of you gray haired old farts probably remember it. Of course that’s the gray haired guys only. We all know there’s no gray haired woman thanks to Clairol Nice ‘n Easy. 

Barry McGuire was in Santa Cruz last weekend. I don’t know why and never found out. I did however listen to a 2-hour bitch & bull session he did on a local AM station. Apparently he still thinks the government is a bunch of morons, which I agree with. The one thing that I got from the 2 hours, besides a caffeine buzz, was that Barry got with the original writer of “Eve of Destruction” P.F. Sloan and they did a updated version to reflect how peaceful we’ve become in the last 40 some years. Its called "Eve 2012". The original from 1965 is on the same page. So if you’ve never heard it you can compare them and then you’ll understand the saying: “The more things change, the more they stay the same”.

In keeping with the somewhat biker theme of this blog, I’ll tell you that Barry did his last movie in 1971 called “Werewolves on Wheels”. Billed as a ‘B’ outlaw biker flick. It’s on You Tube if you want to see it. But be forewarned; alter you state of mind first.

Just in case you’re wondering, that picture up top is the Snoopy band-aid the pretty nurse put on my ass this morning after she gave me a injection of Toradol.

To Much Caffeine. Again.

Lets face it; the Country is in the toilet. We all know it, we just don’t want to admit it. I had to drive by that failed gov-ment sponsored solar panel company, Solyndra on Sunday. It sure is a impressive property. To bad it will crumble into dust soon. Nobody will use the plant, there’s no profit to be made manufacturing anything in the States anymore. I’m having a hard time trying to think of anything we make. Our beloved Harley Davidson is no better. I’m sure their corporate folks would sell out their mothers for a profit. Go to your local Dealer and look through all the ‘Genuine Harley Davidson Parts & Merchandise’. See if you can find anything that doesn’t have a sticker that says ‘Made in – insert name of outsourced country here’. They’re just like everyone else; they have assembly plants, not ‘manufacturing’ plants. Very few if any of their parts are made in the USA anymore. Just a damn shame.



Lots of people say that we’ve turned into a service economy. I prefer to think of it as a slave economy. Every other Country owns our ass and we’re just here to serve them when they come to visit and check on their money. Reminds me of the plantation owners of the Old South. Funny how history has a way of repeating itself.



And don’t think that any of those shit for brains morons running for political office will change a thing. There ain’t a damn one of them that wouldn’t sacrifice a virgin on the steps of Town Hall if it would get them re-elected. They’re all about me me me. You you you don’t mean shit to them.



Just my opinion, and you know what they say about opinions…..

Just Don't Drop It

Ever wonder if a 94.5-inch long bike will fit in a 61.1-inch midget truck-bed?  Turns out it’s kinda’ like the old 10 pounds of shit in a 5 pound bag. After you figure out all the geometry stuff, it does works pretty good for a one-man operation. All you have to do is ignore the legs bending and the thought that the cheap-ass hyd cylinder could blow at any time and it works fine. The truck told me it wants a set of air shocks for its birthday.

Buggie's New Shoes

Spied three bad-ass looking govment’ helicopters landing at the airport this morning. Really tight formation. No doubt they were military pilots. Probably some 3-letter agency here to bother the street gangs. Them guys drink a lot of coffee. Maybe I’ll run into them so I can have some fun with um’. Ever walk up to a stranger and ask if they’re a FBI agent? Try it sometime.

Well the filthy bike got a new pair of shoes. Fine Italian rubber. A nice shinny pair of them thar’ Pie-rel-ez’z. I run Pirelli’s on my Ironhead with no complaints. But that old bucket of cast-iron is a different ride than a modern computer between your legs. So now I need to figure out what psi I like. If I stuck with the OEM tires I would know that. But changing brands means I’ve got to experiment. The plan is to run Buggie at 38, 41 & 36 psi. See which one corners the best and leave it there. Oh yea, I just named the bike ‘Buggie’. Ran it today at 38 psi but couldn’t tell much. It was so damn windy you had to fight to stay in your lane. Guess I’ll have to repeat that part of the experiment. The work never ends.

Why ‘Buggie’? Well it’s always covered in bugs. I just can’t bring myself to wash it. There’s something about the artistry of Ma’ Nature that Man can’t duplicate. The delicate patterns and designs they make on chrome are not to be fooled with. It’s the way ‘She’ wanted it. It’s not nice to fool with Mother Nature. There’s a reason She had that bug fly into my eye. Don’t know what it is and it pissed me off. But there’s still a reason. Plus it’s a wheeled conveyance used to get from point A to point B. Sometimes it’ll even get you back again. That’s close enough to the definition of a buggie for me. Now I just need to look under the frame and see what sex it is.