Blink of an Eye

A local club of riding Friends woke up today to a gorgeous riding day.
Temperatures in the low eighties, slight breeze blowing,air crisp and clean.
Gathering at the designated meeting point proudly wearing their 'cuts' sporting Kruzers AZ upon their backs.
Brotherhood and camaraderie is their stated creed. Having a good day together is the mission.
Laughing, joking someone no doubt chided another for being a little late. another chimed in 'He can't help it...he had to get his wife's permission'.
Rolling out along Cave Creek road it felt good to be riding.....This is what it's all about.

Across town A man arrived at work..Just another day at the ol' grindstone.
Gotta make a living. bills to pay and all.
Awesome spring day, shame to be having to work today.
Perhaps this weekend a barbecue or a day just lounging around with family or Friends.
Just one more day till Friday and...

The riders rode leisurely up Cave Creek road as the leader goosed his engine just a little. smiling back at his Brother, challenging him just a little.
Further back in the pack a riders wife was making silly gestures causing the biker alongside to loose his composure and break out in audible fits of laughter.
Even further back in the pack another brothers chest swelled just a little with pride as he watched his close-knit group enjoying the hell out of this day....A few more miles and he'll buy them all a round at the Hideaway.
Rolling up to the stop sign behind a car, the packs energy was ready for some partying.
Great food and a cold one, this is gonna be a day for the books.

The worker fired up his truck. headed out of the yard to his destination.
Driving along his thoughts wandered just a little.
Routes, schedules and maybe a little thought to the upcoming weekend.
A slight bump in the road shook the log/manifest papers loose from his clipboard.
Reaching down to the right to retrieve the fallen papers,
His eyes looked to the floor for just an instant.


Somewhere in the this Valley tonight.
A group of close Friends will never laugh together again.
Three families are mourning the loss of their loved one.
Six more are desperately praying that the loved ones still in ICU will still be alive in the morning. Many strangers are sleeping fitfully..trying to not replay the days horrific sights in their minds eye.
And One man..sits with the knowledge that his life as he knew it has ended.
The years of nightmares, His probable multiple convictions for manslaugther.

How did all this happen so quickly?
Afterall,,,It was for just an instant...Right?
http://www.kpho.com/news/22956828/detail.html

Please, keep your eyes on the road and pay attention to your driving.

Charitable Intentions

I have a question and I hope one of my more knowledgeable readers can perhaps explain this to me.

If you have a business whatever it may be, the standard wisdom for all types is take your profits and reinvest them back into your inventory.
Buy more product to sell, or invest in new equipment for said purpose. Do not take those profits and use them for anything other than increasing business.

This is standard business 101, taught in any good class from Harvard to community college.

All in agreement so far?.

Here's my quandary.

A business here in AZ. [Which by all involved vehemently deny it is one] but let's go with our all knowing governments version and say it is. I personally don't agree with that...but let's for the sake of this argument say it's true.
According to the same government it is a "criminal organization" that deals in nefarious purposes.
Now this said organization took some of it's profits and bought a truckload of toys to give to children.
When they arrived to deliver the toys...They were denied access to giving the toys away.
????? WTF?
Well it seems the local law enforcement in it's wisdom decided to tell the charity 'Don't accept these toys..they are bought with criminal profits'.
Who loses out in this scenario?
The innocent children lose out on Christmas.
The 'Bad guys' will correctly now decide that since spending money on charity is a waste if time, put it back in inventory.
The 'product' they sell will not be diminished one fucking Iota by this denial.
They are not gonna close up shop and go away because....[Awww, they won't let us give stuff away]
The 'customers' don't buy from them because 'hey..they help kids'. They could give a shit less one way or the other.
OK...So far the kids lost...the 'criminals' kept more of their profits to buy more product and equipment..[being criminals...that would naturally mean more guns and such].
So who came out ahead here?
Law enforcement?
Most see it as making innocents pay for the wages of crime. The organization they are fighting actually gains in strength because they now have more money to continue their 'nefarious efforts' and actually close ranks among themselves , becoming a tighter group.
The LEO's now face a better equipped army against them, the public perception of them is diminished because they just made innocent children who are already down on their luck pay the price.
These kids will not remember why....Only that a 'Cop' prevented Christmas.
And will most likely in the future look on 'Cops' as assholes.
Showing LESS respect for the law,,not more.
So my question is......Just who the hell came out ahead in this scenario?

Modern 'Bike in Barn' story

We've all heard the proverbial 'Bike in a barn ' story.
Bikers sit up and Pay rapt attention when one is told.
Hell, If it's a real good one we'll even push the chatty naked pole dancer outta the way just to hear it.
You might as well tell her right now...go back to the dressing room....Cos' your gonna love this one.

A 96 FLH in perfect condition found in a 'Barn'..Ok, it was a garage..who cares.
The owners manual and video had not even been opened yet.
Impressive, No?
OK, not really that impressive......You can find low mileage examples if you look hard enough.
Under 3000 miles..is that impressive? Quite rare...but not really unheard of.
So how about.......300 miles? Got your attention now don't I?
That's rare for a 13 year old bike....I don't care who you ask.

That's a cool fucking story period.

But...Wait!!!! There's more.

How about...a 96 S&S motored American eagle softail chopper with all the chrome and fancy color shifting paint job done by 5150 Paint and kustoms. [Around a 3500 dollar paint job]
And just for good measure..New Revtech heads and Barrels.
Kustom rims etc.
OH!! Before I forget.....275 actual miles. Yep, you read that right...275.

Now finding these two bikes with a combined mileage of 575...In the same 'barn'
The odds of hearing a story like this is pretty damn rare, Wouldn't you say?

I'll bet your saying 'Holy shit' , Now that's a great goddamn story.

Whoop's...I ain't done yet...;]

How about a 97 Honda Valkrie......The first year edition with the most horsepower.
In showroom condition.....which isn't that amazing....Since it also has only........325 miles.

All three from the same 'Barn' and all three are sitting happily in my shop as I write.
I need to clean the tanks and carb's ...fuel injectors,,oil changes, tires etc...

The current owner wants to ride the FLH and sell the other two
The original owner bought them as 'Investments' back in the day.
Then decided to give them to his son-in-law.
He then contacted a Friend of mine.
I 'm making green to fix em...and I get to ride them.
And I gotta cool post for my readers outta the deal.
Ain't life just grand...;]

PS...I will post pics when I find the damn camera cable to download,

Cane

Cane's ears slowly stirred his consciousness into focus. The close quiet hum he was hearing to was alien to him. Slowly opening his eyes and peering into the subdued light. The blinking green numbers flashing on the monitor above his head brought the hazy memory of recent events to clarity.

'Aww, Shit...It wasn't a dream'.

Quiet laughter echoed from the room’s far corner, ’No, It was definitely real'

Cane strained his eyes to focus on the source.

The man speaking from the corner of the room stepped forward into view.

Cane looked to see a weather-beaten face shrouded in long flowing white hair and beard.

It took a few seconds for Cane to realize the vest and leathers the man wore were white.

'Who the hell are you?' Cane asked.

Again the old man laughed, leaning closer to Cane replied softly ’wrong place'

'What do you mean by that?

'I don't come from there'

Confused, Cane stared at the man quizzically and then mumbled 'Oh Shit'

Laughing even louder the old man quipped 'No, I ain't who your thinking' Waving his hands in the air, no robe and no scythe here'

'Then who are you?'

'Lets just say I'm a fan and have been for sometime.'

A Fan? Of what?

'Of you and what you do.'

'I'm not sure I understand'

'You are a good hearted man who strives to live each day honorably and care for your family and friends. Also what you do for kids....Well, let's put it this way, many talk about helping, you actually put yourself out there. For that, I try to keep an extra eye out for you'

Looking down at his body wrapped in bandages Cane muttered 'Good Job'

Smiling the Old man replied 'Yes, I think so'

'I was being sarcastic' If you were watching out for me...you kinda messed up' replied Cane

'I was a little busy at the time, so I did what I could

'Busy?

'Yes, busy. What you didn't see on your little flight was our friend with the scythe waiting in the street. He was so excited at having potential clients he didn't see me coming. I drop kicked his ass' and then barely had time to catch you and your wife in time for a softer landing. You try catching two at a time...let me know how well you do' chortled the old man.

'You did all that?' asked Cane.

'That and more, I have sent people with good hearts and advice to your side, though you don't always listen, I have even helped you out of a few close calls.....You haven't exactly helped make my job any easier.'

'Sorry'

'No need to apologize, I really didn't expect you too'.

'Now you’re confusing me'

'I don't have any hold on your free will. The same ability that sometimes hinders, also allows you to take the risk you do for children. They kind of go hand in hand..so to speak.'

'Why me?'

'Because I need you'

'You need me? How?'

I can't be everywhere at once; I need people like you to protect the little ones.

'I'm still not sure I understand...aren't you everywhere?

The old man responded laughing 'No, I'm not that guy either'

'Then who are you?'

'Lets just say I'm the "Bikers" aide and leave it at that.'

'Now I'm really confused, if you’re a "Bikers" aide what's that have to do with kids?'

'Since the entire world has free will, there are those who will abuse that privilege. You help to make sure that the little ones don't have theirs taken away. Some lead by your example will also become "Bikers" someday.

By looking out for you, I'm also looking out for them.'

'I won't be able to do much from here' said Cane gesturing at the room.

'As I stated before, you have good people surrounding you. They will keep the flame burning in your absence. Think of it this way, the best steel is forged slowly over fire. In time you will emerge from this stronger, sharper and more focused. When you wake tomorrow, you won't remember this talk we are having...But your soul will.

Cane noticed the old man was slowly receding back into the darkness of the room. Feeling the effects of the medication again he started to drift off to sleep. Before consciousness lost hold he heard the old man whisper.

'Rest up Bro', you still have a Lot to do'

Mystery Bike

The Bike I was crying about..[because I thought he 'blew it up']
Is an EXTREMELY RARE......
1941 Indian Military Model 841.
Only a thousand were made...And all but one was shipped to CA for testing by the armed forces.

The 841 also came with several other new features, including shaft drive, a foot shift, hand clutch, hydraulic girder spring fork, rubber-mounted handlebars, a sprung rear hub and 8-inch drum brakes, all of which made it onto postwar Chiefs.E. Paul duPont, who controlled Indian, had so much faith in the 841 design that he got one for his own use. He rode it around the country, stopping to show dealers and friends, and had grand plans for turning the military 841 into a civilian tourer.But none of that was to be.Although Indian built more than 1,000 examples of the bike and put it through extensive testing in the desert of California, the military never adopted the machine for wartime use. The same was true of Harley’s BMW-like XA. Instead, the primary motorcycle used by American forces was the 750cc V-twin Harley WLA, augmented by Indian’s 500cc V-twin 741 and the 750cc 640B, basically a military version.


Most were deystoyed in testing or scrapped...Never intended for civilian use...As such very few examples exist today...and nearly all that are...are in museums.

When I saw the photo of a civilian owning one...I just about fell off my chair.

CRYING

I know I haven't posted in a while. Just been busy with bikes and BACA events.
I really didn't have anything new to post since most of our day to day happenings are told on Ann's/Boston's blog...but whoo boy I got a doozy for ya today.....

I stopped by our BACA prez's house this morn to catch up and chat awhile.
He just retuned from a week long trip up in Utah visiting friends and family.
He found some old photos of his grandfather on his bikes just after WW2.

He tells me, "These are pic's of my gramps bikes; one he rode for years....and the other a Triumph.......THAT I BLEW UP."

The first pic was of a 1946 FL, quite rare today....But if you look hard enough you can still find em.....This pic with the windshield and accessories is no doubt the 'Road-going' bike as described.

The other...well, do your reasearch. Hint: American Wartime (it ain't no Triumph!)

I hope this isn't the bike he 'Blew up'........I'll cry for a month.


Postscript.......I had mis-heard....He 'blew up' the picture.......fate of the bike?....lost to time.

Giving the finger

OK, I have been asked to tell this true story more than once.
I usually cloak the truth in analogy's and writers privilege.
I was gonna do that with this one.....Screw it, you get the unaltered version today.
Because if I wrote as a story....You probably would think I was tweaking the details. The things that happened and were said.....Every line is true.
Even when you wouldn't think that people would be Asshole enough to say that.


One hot frigging summer day here in AZ. I pulled into the parking lot of my work and brought the 10 wheeler with a farmers yoke trailer to halt.
Why do I drive this Rig? Because of the double wishbone on the yoke.[picture a flatbed trailer with a y yoke in front of it. The front has a steel ring that goes into a farmers clip. like a ball hitch but less able to guide. The back of the yoke is also able to pivot the front wheels. So when backing up, they want to go in opposite directions] I'm the only one in the yard who can back the sucker up.
Which can come in real handy at some of the blind alleys and hollowed out construction jobs we do.

My good Friend who owns the 88 sporty you all know about..[I'm keeping his name private. From here on out we'll just call him 88]
Rolls up on his forklift and tells me we need the trailer down in the back lot.
I was already out and into my vest getting ready to leave on my bike [This is important later in the story]
OK no problem.
I swing it around and back down the alley in back and down the little hill next to the fence.
Every time I did this in the yard, someone would comment that it was amazing that I could do that. [25 years driving teaches you things ,,Go figure]
So this time it was 88 saying this as he was starting to unhook my trailer for me.
The tension of being on a downward angle from the truck had jammed the front yoke too tight to release.
Just as I said 'Don't put your hand near it' He did.
When two highly sprung blocks of steel slam together and your fingers are in the way?
Somebody is going to be minus a finger...and 88 was.
With a look of pure shock and pain He calmly said I just lost my finger.
Walkimg quickly but steady back to his forklift, wrapped his hand in a rag and drove to the office. So they could take him to the hospital.

Back at the truck, I manage to pry the jaws open on the trailer and retrieve the finger.
Drove my [now] disconnected truck like hell up to the office.
I run inside and tell the receptionist at the front desk. I need ice and a couple of bags.
She looks at me like it's the funniest thing she'd ever seen, and doesn't move an inch.
Placing my boot firmly against her desk and kicking it over a few feet fixed the humor problem...I had a bag of ice and another to cover the finger in less than thirty seconds.
As I was running out the front door she replied 'I'll get you fired for this'
I shot back a look that made it clear to her that right now, silence would be her best course of action.
She quickly shut the fuck up.
So jumping on 'Annabelle and firing her to duty, I placed the bag in my saddlebag and pulled a 20 foot wheelie down the street.
I get out on the highway still pissed at our dipshit desk bunny and hauling ass to the hospital.
I pass a Maricopa police car doing well over the speed limit.
I see him and he doesn't do shit.
So I slow down beside him and motion for him to pull over.
No response other than a incredulous look.
So I start kicking the drivers door [put a nice dent in that sucker]
He swerves into the gravel on the side of the road and stops. I stop just in front of him.
I grabbed the bag out of my saddlebag and run toward the police car.
He's getting ready to draw his weapon.
I yelled 'you gotta get this man's finger to the hospital now!!'
Quickly explaining how I come to be carrying such a thing.
The Dumb ass cop looks at me and says 'We don't do that'
I start yelling.
Are you fucking kidding me! You assholes can't find any stolen items unless the crooks bring them to you and can hardly solve shit. Except give out bullshit tickets? To serve and Protect is just a fucking motto?
At this the Sargent in the passenger seat got out and berated the dumb ass.
'Take the damn finger and let's get it to the hospital, Jackass.'
So off they go, siren's blaring.
I catch up a few minutes later as they are walking back outta the hospital.
The sargent pulls me aside and say's
'The next time you give a cop a finger...Smile.

Postscript...It was all for naught...they couldn't reattach the finger.
As I stepped into the bathroon I saw what the dumbass cop saw.
A long wild haired, grey beard with a bowie knife strapped to his leg. a patch of a maltese cross with skull and bomes on my back. and blood on the front of my shirt.
Riding a obnoxious sounding harley covered in dust...And kicking his door.
I wonder why he didn't want to pull over?