Lane Splitting.The California Coast. The Emmy Awards. And Los Angeles.

Coming back from a job site today we saw a dude on a crotch rocket split lanes between two cars along I-74. My buddy Justin, whom I work for, looks at me and says "You do that shit?".
"No. Well not in IL anyway. I did when I was in California."
I proceeded to tell him this story...

I met up with my buddy Pete along Coastal Highway 1, leaving Big Sur. I had been in California for a few weeks so far with my friend Jen. Her bike started acting up beyond repair and she had to head back West in a U-Haul.

I rode to Big Sur after parting ways with her in Stockton. It was an emotional moment for us both. We had spent the last five months zig zagging our way across the country together. We had overcome many obstacles, some on our own and some with help from dear friends. Circumstances separated us at this point and it sucked.

She headed toward Denver and I headed down the coast. I camped in Big Sur on a Thursday night. Met Pete down the coast Friday morning. We had breakfast at a lil tourist trap roadside diner before rolling down to Ojai to meet up with my friend Dawn. We hung out a bit, had some food and a few beverages before heading to Pete's pad in Piru, just East of Ventura.

This is where I first "split lanes". In California, when traffic is slowed on the freeway, motorcycles are allowed to zig zag thru the traffic that stands still or is moving slow. Although, Pete being a native may have made up his own rules on this. I was apprehensive at first, but when in Rome...I just followed Pete and got a feel for the rhythm. Then I was good.

Pete took me on some awesome mountain back roads around the L.A. area. We spent all day Saturday riding and stopped at Neptune's Net along Rt. 1 in Malibu and and The Rock Store (which I remember from the show "The Wonder Years") along Mulholland in Malibu Canyon.

Sunday we drank some day beers so we could get some shut eye before reporting to the Bill Ferrell Company at 10 p.m. This is where I found my taste for Stone IPA. Dude had a kegerator and that was the constant  flavor on tap.

We drove to Sun Valley that night and met up with the BF crew before heading into downtown L.A. to the Nokia Theater. I spent the better part of that week working with dudes that didn't know me from "Adam" and they treated me like one of the gang. A really cool experience.

We worked our asses off tearing down the Emmy set. I was paid handsomely for my work and spent the next week seeking steady work in the area. The Bill Ferrell Co. said they'd keep my name on file, but as a roaming worker I needed more of a commitment than that.

A few days later I headed to Vegas.

The Living Deads Adventure 5/10/2014

I got a call from my old friend Lane last week telling me the band he was touring with was gonna be in Lombard, IL Friday night and Pekin, IL Saturday. He used to play with a local Champaign, IL rockabilly outfit named Jakehead. We became friends about 14 years ago after meeting at one of his band's early shows. Somehow or another I ended up designing most of their flyers and did the layout for their CD. Many moons ago he moved to Nashville and is making his way in Music City. Over the years he'd stay with me when up this way, and likewise when I was passing through Tennessee.

I told him I'd see him Saturday night for certain. I then shot my friend Lisa a message about the show. I knew she'd wanted to see the Living Deads for some time. She was free that night, so we made it a plan. Saturday arrived and I hopped on the bike about 5:30 that afternoon and headed for Bloomington.

I got to Lisa's just a few minutes behind schedule. Only because I stopped at a gas station and had a twenty minute conversation with Ron, some dude that pulled up aside me in a pick up truck. He was diggin my bike and telling me about his pan head chop. He had twelve years on me, but we were cut of the same cloth. You know how it goes.

After figuring out just where the hell we were going, Lisa and I straddled the scoot and headed towards the freeway. About an hour later we arrived in Pekin and after a phone call to Lane, found the venue. The High Note is located in old store front along Court St. It's fairly close to the Illinois River and appears to be in an older part of town. We breezed right by it during our first pass on the strip because it is located on the second floor, and I'm pretty sure there is no sign. I didn't see one. The building was the former home of a Mason's Hall. There is still a symbol on the tin ceiling and a marker in the floor.

The Living Deads

Lane greeted us out front and after parking the bike we accompanied him around back to the RV. We sat and played catch up for about an hour, meeting his band mates Symphonyy and Randee. Truth be told I was not familiar with the Living Deads until last year when Lane mentioned to me that he'd been touring with them off and on. Since then I've been listening to them online and following their photos on social media.

I was singing along like an idiot and rockin' witht the band. If you ever get a chance to see this band, DO. You won't be disappointed. Randee and Symphonyy "kid nap" a different guitarist every so often and constantly tour. So chances are good they will be in your neck of the woods.

The band played for a few hours and the crowd was high energy and attentive the whole time. Afterward, Lane and I chatted a bit more before the RV rolled westward toward Indiana. Lisa and I had planned for the front end of this venture, but not so much the back end. We bid adieu to the band and went out front to where the bike was parked.

Randee, Lane, Barry, Symphonyy

We talked to a local yokel about a nearby motel but his demeanor made me think I was in a scene from the movie Gummo. When someone says "I've lived here all my life and never really been out of town." Adding to it "I don't even know my way around Pekin that well." it sort puts me on guard. Regardless, one way or another we got a little turned around. We zig zagged the streets of Pekin never finding a place to stay. We figured Gummo's directions were a little beer influenced and not exactly accurate and eventually ended up at Rt. 9. We took it. Thinking we'd just head back toward Bloomington and if we saw somewhere to stay the night we'd stop.

About 15 miles or so out of town we breezed by an old timey roadside motel. The theme of the place was log cabin influenced and their was a restaurant called Boss Hog's on the lot as well. I grabbed the brakes and made the second entrance, doubling back to the front lot. We parked and walked toward the office. Closed. There was a phone number for "after hours" but we weren't certain of what we wanted to do just yet.

I took a stroll to relieve myself behind a dumpster before meeting Lisa back at the bike, under the Banner Inn sign. While standing there fumbling with our phones, realizing we did not have cell service, we were discussing our options. About that time we heard a few voices in the darkness and noticed one of the motel room doors had opened and three individuals were exiting.

"Hey! Ya'll alright? Bike break down?" said a high pitched voice from across the lot.
Now given the time of night this was, and that we were in the middle of nowhere, there's always a certain level of "on guard" feeling you have.

I responded, "Nah, just taking a break." The three then began to walk towards us. So I began to walk towards them. Lisa followed. A little chatter across the parking lot ensued until we were face to face. Josh, Manuel and Annie were employees of the Inn and restaurant and had just gotten off work a few hours earlier.

Annie and Josh said "Nice bike" and Josh added "Is that a CB750 Honda?" I was thoroughly impressed. And I told him so. This kid had to have been in his mid twenties and I said "Man, how in the hell did you recognize that across the parking lot (the bike was about 60 feet away) in the dark?"

"Ah man, my dad had one of them. I recognized the four pipes coming out of the front" he answered.
Granted there are other bikes that have four pipes out front, but, he knew it, or was right anyway. Again, I was impressed.

We sat and shot the breeze for a few minutes, them telling us of their night and us of ours. Annie said "Ya'll wanna beer?" I responded, "That depends. You gotta room available?" Turns out she was the manager and they did indeed have a room so we took her up on the beer. During our conversation with our new found friends we realized that Banner, IL was actually not on the way back to Bloomington and that we had headed West out of Pekin instead of East. We had gotten more turned around than we initially thought. But all was good. If we hadn't, then we would not have ended up in Banner.

We stood and talked for quite awhile about bikes and life and just whatever. Then I revisited the room issue. "So what do ya need for one of these rooms?" She sorta stood there with this look in her eye and said, "Nothin.". I told her "No I can't do that. I have to pay you something." She retorted, "I tell ya what. We're having a Mother's Day Buffet in the morning. You come to the buffet and have some breakfast, I'll give you a room, and just pay it forward". With that, she was speakin' my language.

Eventually 4 a.m. had crept upon us and these three had to be up in just a few hours for the buffet. We were all pooped and agreed it was time to hit the sack. We again thanked them and retired to room number 12. Annie told me to park my bike up by her's, under the awning, in case it rained again (glad we missed that).

Annie's Shadow. Room 12.

The next morning we strolled across the lot to Boss Hog's for the Mother's Day buffet. Damn, the food was killer and the staff was awesome. Annie had said they had over 200 reservations that day. Pretty impressive for a town of 149. I didn't see the breakfast section of the buffet so I had fried chicken, salad, mashed taters and coffee for breakfast. Lisa mixed it up a bit. She was smarter than I and paid attention to the rest of the line and not just the first four tubs of food available.

After we filled our bellies we met Annie at the the register and paid the buffet fee. Which was damn cheap considering there was a room included. We slipped her the key and headed out to the bike. We hit Rt. 9 and headed west. There was a strong wind blowing but the sun was shining and it was a nice two lane cruise back to where we came from.

Some added pics from Saturday via Michael McMillen Photography with permission

Dude does good work, check out his page (https://www.facebook.com/michaelmcmillenphotography)

The latest.

Some of the "Creations"

Happy Birthday Hank

Charles Bukowski 

Aug. 16, 1920 - March 9, 1994

1. 
   

Friday 8.2.13 -- The Longest Day I've Had In Some Time

I left Champaign, IL at noon on Friday 8.2.13. I didn't get to my destination of Detroit until 11:30 that night. I awoke that morning and ran a few errands, paid a few bills and alleviated the truck of the junk windows from the install we did Thursday. After that I returned home to strap the gear onto the chop. Once loaded and ready to go I discovered that my front brake was dragging, well not really dragging, more like stuck. I had put new pads in a few days before but hadn't ridden yet to test 'em out. I tinkered around a bit and determined the caliper was okay so decided to trudge on down to Brumie's shop and put the vacuum bleeder on the caliper. The caliper was fine and aside from the brake fluid being low from bleeding the brake when the pads were changed, nothing was obviously wrong. I didn't have any DOT 5 in the garage that night, and the master cylinder just needed topped off anyway, it still had pressure and was functioning properly. With that marked off the troubleshooting list we decided to pull the pads back out and hit em with the sanding disc. It seemed to work. The bike was not a bear to roll forward, no rubbing and we double checked the caliper to ensue it was functioning as it should, and it was.

With that out of the way I returned to the compound to meet with my friend/employer for my paycheck and then hit the road. I fueled up at the Super Pantry off I 57 and Olympian Drive and then realized I forgot to leave my truck key for the guys back home in case they needed to move it. Ugh. I doubled back with a full tank of gas and dropped off the key. At this point it was close to noon and I was behind my own fabricated schedule so I decided to forego the two lane route I had planned and take the E-way.

As always there was construction everywhere. Stop and go traffic on a 40 year old air cooled motorcycle doesn't jive. I said fuck it and took the shoulder passing miles of cars that were funneling into one lane. In an attempt not to incite a road rage riot I cruised along the shoulder in third gear acting like I was fidgeting with my carbs, making it look like something was wrong. When in actuality that's what I was trying to prevent, "something wrong". This happened a few times, taking the shoulder, before I could get clear of the traffic and construction and open it up.

After about an hour and a half into the trip, just north of Indianapolis, en route to Fort Wayne, the sky let loose. I'd seen it coming for miles but when it let go, it was on. Traffic slowed to 30 mph on the freeway and the wind about blew me off the road. I couldn't see shit, and I knew the cages couldn't see me. I took the next exit and sought shelter at a gas station. Everyone that stopped for gas first commented "You look wet". No shit. Then asked which direction I was heading. When I responded "north", they cringed and said "You may wanna wait it out a bit buddy". I was waiting it out, but I get anxious and can't sit still so as soon as the sky lightened from a deep purple to a light gray I was back on I-69 heading north. I caught up with the rain.

I blazed along US 24 taking the stinging rain drops to the face like a champ. When you ride in rain it is like a zen thing. You have to resort your thinking to "This sucks, but I have to do it. I am going to get wet and be miserable, but I can do this, it'll be okay." I kept on the throttle and passed all the four wheelers and semis along the way. At one point I began to see flashes of light. Rain is one thing, but heavy wind, hail or lightning and I pull off the road. As I was trying to determine whether it was indeed lightning, I noticed that the passengers in the mini van I was passing were taking pictures of me in this mess. I gave 'em a thumbs up and twisted a little harder to accelerate past them.

As I approached Toledo I consulted the directions I had written on my hand in permanent marker. I was to catch US 23 to Detroit. As I approached the exit I had a choice to make. North or South. I didn't indicate that on the back of my hand. Logic said I'm heading north to Detroit, I don't wanna go south. I barreled on past the 23 S exit and caught the north exit.

Along with my route, I had gas stops marked on my hand. My next stop would be just before I caught I-75 north into Detroit Rock City. I had been rolling for some time on US 23 and wasn't seeing I-75. I knew I was getting low on gas and pulled off at the next exit I came to. No gas. But a KOA. I pulled in asked the lady attendant how close I was to a gas station. She said 6 miles up at Dundee. I pulled the gas cap for a peek inside the tank.

"Do you need gas?" she asked.
"I think I can make six miles" I responded.
"I can probably find you some here if you need."
"No. I think I should be good."
"You think, you should be" she said uncertain.
"Yep. Thanks. Have a great night."

I should have taken her up on her offer. About 3 miles out on US 23 N I sputtered to a stop on the shoulder, 30 miles south of Ann Arbor. I also should have taken US 23 S to catch I-75 N to Detroit. I was only about 30-45 minutes from the city while in the Toledo area where I made the wrong decision and added hours onto this already long journey.

So there I sat on the side of the road at dusk getting eaten my mosquitos, cussing my luck and wishing I'd taken the nice campground lady up on her offer. I made a few phone calls to Matt and Jenny, letting them know I'd be even later. After being passed by a handful of trucks pulling trailers with bikes, and a guy riding a bike, none of them stopping, I decided to push.

I pushed for about 3 miles when I got an idea. I put the kickstand down and grabbed my flashlight out of the pack. It was starting to get dark and I was over this shit. I shined the light in the tank and could see I had some fuel in there on the right side...but the left was dry. I got my tools out and removed the gas tank. I turned it backwards towards me, upside down and rolled it to the left. My petcock was on the left side, this is where the gas valve fed the line to the carbs. I set it back down on the backbone and again shined the light in. Fuck yeah! The gas that was on the opposite side of the tunnel was now on the left side. It was about an inch high. I bolted the tank back on, reconnected the fuel line to the tank and said a few choice words. Turned the key and gave her a kick. Vroom vroom!

Again I took the shoulder. I wasn't sure how far this gas would get me and I was a little frazzled after so many hours in the rain. At least the downpour had stopped and the bike was moving under it's own power. I took the next exit. At the top of the ramp I saw a sign that said "gas" with an arrow pointing right. I followed it. The sign was old and faded. As I wandered farther and farther into the unfamiliar Michigan darkness I began to wonder if it was an outdated sign.

Finally I came upon the small town of Ida. No gas station in sight. I knew I was getting close to running out of my rationed fuel. I ran up a curb cut / sidewalk into a pizza joint parking lot. "Hey sorry to bother ya but ya know where a gas station is? I'm about to run out!" Dude and his woman didn't even flinch at this soggy, frazzled, dirty road wanderer that ran up on them and pointed south. I scooted outta the lot and headed that way. After a few blocks I could see the BP light glowing in the darkness. Just as it came into view I heard the motor drop a few cylinders. Brrrrghhh. Shit. I did a little zig zag action to shake up what fuel was left in the tank. As I approached the station's lot the bike died completely. I coasted in very quietly to the pump and thanked God for small favors. If I hadn't have pushed for a few miles out on the highway I would have been pushing now. Out there was better, it was still daylight then.

I filled the tank and once again called Matt and Jenny, letting them know I finally got my shit together and would see them in about an hour and half. It was pushing 10 p.m. and after chugging down some water from the saddle bags I once again hit the road.

I meandered my way back to US 23 N and ran it up until I hit I-94 on the southern outskirts of Ann Arbor. I felt good. Rejuvenated after a day of hell and glad I hadn't turned back for home when my wits were shot back in IN when I first started battling the days obstacles. I merged onto the E-way and rocked it all the way into Detroit. When I saw the giant Uniroyal tire I knew I was getting close.

I began to get concerned about running out of gas as I'd been running for about an hour and a half since the last fill up. I pulled off the interstate in search of fuel. I figured since there were hotels at the exit I chose, I figured there'd be gas too. I was wrong. Frustrated I found my way back to I-94 and took the next exit I saw a gas sign for. Chalmers Street.

As soon as I took the exit I knew what kind of area I was in. Neon signs advertising check cashing, bail bonds and fried chicken let me know I was not "in Kansas anymore". I've been all over the country, in all kinds of situations and neighborhoods and this was really no different. Except it was late on a Friday night and I was out of my mind.

I pulled up to the pump and killed the bike. After a few minutes I processed the scene. A parking lot full of bass thumpin' vehicles and their owners...and no one was getting gas. Just chillin'. I took off my helmet and rubbed my eyes. A frail little man sweeping the parking lot approached me.

"Ya gotsa pay first mang".
"Ah, right on man. Thanks." I said.
He blabbered some other gibber jabber and I apologized, pointing to the bike and said "I can't hear ya man, I've been on that thing for 11 hours." He got closer.
Seems he just wanted to know if I "get high". Either he had something or wanted to know if I was holding.
I laughed and said "Ah, nah man. Not me."
He nodded and took his broom to the other side of the pump.

I went in and put ten bucks on pump one.
No one looked at me or even approached me other than that lil dude that was working there, in the parking lot.
I pumped the ten into the tank, stretched out a little bit, put on my helmet and kicked Lulu back to life.

About a half hour later I was at the 21 Mile exit. I pulled into a Speedway and called Jenny to come escort me "home". I couldn't navigate shit at this point.
Matt was delivering a bike to his Dad's place. A bike that he had rebuilt for his old man.
His Dad, Randy was hosting a chopper party/cookout the next morning. That is one reason why I made the trip.

We had about 25 bikes or more, and about 40 people in attendance. We took a ride thru Detroit and out to Belle Isle Saturday before the food was ready. I lingered around the greater Detroit area until today, Thursday 8.9.13. Over the past week I got to see some really cool bands, one being the almighty Black Sabbath and spend some much needed time with some dear friends as well as meet some new ones.

The trip home from Detroit was much more enjoyable than the trip there. I'll save that story for later.

Junk Art.

Been spending some time lately making some yard art. I've sold the shit bird and the scorpion so far and hope to continue to sell these and other creations. Here's a few pics of what I've come up with:

Friction Photography

Sabrina from Friction Photography made the trek up to Muskegon, MI for Bike Time last weekend and took time from the downtown fare to come out to Wolf Lake Campground for the Backyard Bike Builder's gathering and to hang for dinner and some photo taking. It was late in the day but she still managed to capture some great shots of our bikes. Here are a sampling of the many she shot:

Here are links to more of her photography:

https://www.facebook.com/frictionphoto

https://www.facebook.com/frictionphotography?fref=ts