Jeremy Jones - Bikes of Bolts
This honkey rides his scoot like he rides his skateboard, FAR OUT!
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
The Road is calling...
...but I cannot answer. I spent the last 5 months travelling this country on my '72 CB750 chop only to return to IL just in time for winter. I tried to find a steady gig out west, to winter over in CA, but I could not. I did some temp work for a company that my buddy Pete works for, that does staging for the entertainment industry in the L.A. area. I helped tear down the sets from the Emmy Awards aftermath. However the company I was working for in Sun Valley couldn't offer me a steady full time stint. I had been staying with my gracious host Pete for about 2 weeks now, and after hemming and hawing over what to do, and receiving no phone calls from employers, I decided to head back east.
From Sin City I had two choices, north to Denver or south to Phoenix. After careful consideration, I chose south. I wasn't ready to head back to IL yet, and that's what Denver offered. An old friend from IL had moved to Phoenix about a decade ago, and we hadn't seen each other since. We had tentative plans to do some riding and drinking. Unfortunately a few weeks prior Ross had been t-boned on his digger and was broken, confined to a wheel chair, but on the mend.
His crew in Phoenix had put together a benefit show with raffles and such to gain funds for his upcoming medical bills and time absent from work. I figured I was only about 5 hours away and needed to be there for that. I was looking forward to seeing Ross "Stickrod", too bad the circumstances were as they were.
I arrived in Phoenix wednesday night, the tenth of October, to be greeted by one of Ross' best friends, Brains. He also rode a CB750 chop 'survivor' that looked like something right out of the 70's. He greeted me as if we were old friends and no sooner than I pulled the first bungee cord off of the gear, he got a phone call. We were headed to one of the Phoenix crew's regular watering holes to have a "safety meeting".
Trapper was seated in a booth waiting for us and Kelly arrived shortly after we did. Ross' benefit was in 2 days so they were doing some final planning on how to run the gig as smoothly as possible. Thru conversation we realized we knew some of the same people, and were aquaintances with some of the same people. Another reminder of what a small world we live in.
The next 4 nights were a whirlwind of bombing the streets on our scoots and hopping from place to place checking out the girlies, keeping our thirst quenched and our bellies full. Ross' benefit Friday night went off without a hitch. A great turnout and a pile of cash collected, combined with great bands at a great venue made the evening a success. Ross was stoked to see me as it was a surprise to him. Last we'd talked I told him I couldn't make it.
I spent Sunday evening with Ross and his wife, Diana and their son. We visited and got to catch up more than we were able friday night. He had said something before I left that has stuck with me. He said "Man, it means so much to me that you made it here. This all started for me (bikes & skateboards) back in IL with you, Matt & Heath, and you're the only one from IL thats been out to visit. It means a lot."
I would have never thought of it on that level. I was just stoked to see an old friend in his new digs, meet his wife and son, and tell him how glad I was that I was still able to, that he was still here so that I could.
I returned to Brain's place later that night to get ready to head north on Monday morning. I had a handful of people I wanted to visit on the way up to I-40, before heading east to the corn desert of IL, that will soon become a frozen tundra.
I left the Los Angeles area on Columbus Day and headed for Vegas. My "sister" lives there and we spent a few days catching up. That night, monday, we went down on the strip and hung out at New York, New York riding the roller coaster, eating and drinking. It was a blast. I decided to stay another night and Tuesday we just hung out at the house and had a home cooked meal.
From Sin City I had two choices, north to Denver or south to Phoenix. After careful consideration, I chose south. I wasn't ready to head back to IL yet, and that's what Denver offered. An old friend from IL had moved to Phoenix about a decade ago, and we hadn't seen each other since. We had tentative plans to do some riding and drinking. Unfortunately a few weeks prior Ross had been t-boned on his digger and was broken, confined to a wheel chair, but on the mend.
His crew in Phoenix had put together a benefit show with raffles and such to gain funds for his upcoming medical bills and time absent from work. I figured I was only about 5 hours away and needed to be there for that. I was looking forward to seeing Ross "Stickrod", too bad the circumstances were as they were.
I arrived in Phoenix wednesday night, the tenth of October, to be greeted by one of Ross' best friends, Brains. He also rode a CB750 chop 'survivor' that looked like something right out of the 70's. He greeted me as if we were old friends and no sooner than I pulled the first bungee cord off of the gear, he got a phone call. We were headed to one of the Phoenix crew's regular watering holes to have a "safety meeting".
Trapper was seated in a booth waiting for us and Kelly arrived shortly after we did. Ross' benefit was in 2 days so they were doing some final planning on how to run the gig as smoothly as possible. Thru conversation we realized we knew some of the same people, and were aquaintances with some of the same people. Another reminder of what a small world we live in.
The next 4 nights were a whirlwind of bombing the streets on our scoots and hopping from place to place checking out the girlies, keeping our thirst quenched and our bellies full. Ross' benefit Friday night went off without a hitch. A great turnout and a pile of cash collected, combined with great bands at a great venue made the evening a success. Ross was stoked to see me as it was a surprise to him. Last we'd talked I told him I couldn't make it.
I would have never thought of it on that level. I was just stoked to see an old friend in his new digs, meet his wife and son, and tell him how glad I was that I was still able to, that he was still here so that I could.
I returned to Brain's place later that night to get ready to head north on Monday morning. I had a handful of people I wanted to visit on the way up to I-40, before heading east to the corn desert of IL, that will soon become a frozen tundra.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
On the way to New Orleans...
On our way to New Orleans this summer Jen and I rode the Natchez Trace Parkway south.The parkway is very scenic and untouched by development. Towns just off the parkway are accessible, but not abundant so we were very conscience them and of filling stations! This little town of French Camp in Mississippi was one of those stops, a cool little historic town...
Construction of the Colonel James Drane house began in 1846 using a water powered saw. The foundation and framing are secured with wooden pegs and the ceiling with squared nails. Moved to this location in 1981, the house is now owned and operated by the French Camp Academy. You are invited to visit the Drane House. The information station is in the 1840 Huffman Log Cabin. A sorghum mill adjacent to the cabin operates during the fall sorghum season. Open Monday through Saturday 8:30 to 5 p.m. Restoration of the Colonel James Drane home, which is listed in the National Register of Historic Places has been funded with assistance of a matching grant-in-aid from the Department of the Interior National Park Service under the provisions of the Jobs Bill Program of 1983.
Louis LeFleur first traded with the Choctaw Indians at a bluff now part of Jackson, Mississippi. About 1812, he established his stand 900 feet to the northeast on the Natchez Trace. Because of the storekeeper's nationality the area was often called "French Camp", a name retained by the present village. LeFleur married a Choctaw woman. Their famous son who changed his name to Greenwood Leflore, became a Choctaw chief and a Mississippi State Senator. For him are named the city of Greenwood and the county of Leflore.
A stone memorial marks a stage of the Natchez Trace at French Camp. The first highway opened through the lower south by the treaty of Dancing Rabbit Creek in 1830 between the American government and the Choctaw Indians. The surrounding country became a part of the state of Mississippi. Here Andrew Jackson's Tennessee and Kentucky commands rested on their way to join him in his coast campaign in the War of 1812, during which second struggle for American Independence, Mississippi took a heroic part. Presented to the town of French Camp by the Mississippi Daughters of the American Revolution, November 10, 1915. (from the National Park Service)
Friday, October 19, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Brian "Brains" Davis scootin' along the freeway...
...on his righteous CB750 survivor, after rescuing her from the Yucca Tap Room parking lot in Tempe. She got left behind after enjoying ourselves during Stickrod's benefit gig last night.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Lana Del Rey feat. Josh Kurpius
Here is short film/video for one of Lana's new songs, "Ride". It features motorcycle photographer Josh Kurpius as her lover and is a pretty fuggin' rad lil flick. Enjoi. (click the link)
Thursday, October 4, 2012
20 Years Ago Today...
Denver Mullins lost his life in a boating accident Oct 5, 1992. Not only did he build righteous choppers back in the day, but later in life he built capsule compartments for drag boats that ran upwards of 200 mph. These capsules were similar to those in a jet fighter plane and were credited for saving countless lives. Denver will always be remembered his contributions to the custom bike world and his innovative style. RIP.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
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