Dirty One..

Shit happens, woke up to the sound of someone trying to get in my front door Friday night..No need need to jack one in the chamber just slide off the safety..Hey if it ain't loaded it's no better than owning a rock right..as I sneak down the hallway hoping to use up some old ammo..a greasy ass head pops through the door..Fuck bro put that thing down..Damn Ernie you should of called..I did you broke dick dog..your phones off..Oh yea I hate that thing..Dirty and his better half had arrived..I forgot all about it..Make yourself at home I got to do the slave thing in the morning..

My bro came to get that oil dripping greasy bag pan out of my way..and get in some ride time..Saturday is out my friend..well maybe a short in the evening..Instead we fired up the grill a shared old times and new times..expanded on old stories and created new..laughed about the good and bad..Talked about how it just is not the same not sneaking off and getting in late night burger runs,,casino trips..eat Maria's cooking till we were ready to explode..

Sunday morning as the suns cracking over the Sierra Nevada's the sound of the old pan and the shovel fill the driveway, to the dismay of neighbors I'm sure..As we roll out heading to the hills..as we climb towards pine flat lake the sun starts to warm our bones..blasting pipes warming the soul..It's comfort that's been missing since the Dirty One made his run for the boarder..the shit eating grin on his ugly mug tells me he feels it too..

Grab a total grease bomb burrito at Doyles..together with the worst cup of horse piss ever that was apssed off as coffee..self inflicted injury..knew better..we head towards Wonder Valley..If you ever ride through what you will wonder is why anybody would want to live there..The rattlesnakes move out in the summer..as we head for the giant redwoods..maybe a stop a Snowline..tell some lie's about all the fights we won..and lost there over the years..We rolled..hard and fast..morning wind alive and well..

Rolling through the park..just slowing down to take in the Big tree's, General Grant and Sherman..and the rest of the true giants..If you have never seen them make it a point..we head towards 245...old huants..old friends and a ride long over due..

Hit the Mountain House..rice burners packing the lot..we find a spot in the back and shut them down..The Sunday bad band trying to be cool..Couple of old time gypsy leather clad brother sitting in the back as we order a belly bomb burger and head back..been a year since I crossed path with Rey and Too Tall..had a good lunch with good hard riding friends..and started the last leg of the summer..

As we rolled off the last rolling hill at the end of what was to be a short day that went long..a high five at 60..a couple of passes through small burgs with the pipes screaming..a little to fast..a gear to high and that catch me if you can attitude we brought them home..Life's good as we load the pan in the trailer and head in to see what the boss cooked up..gonna miss ya my greasy brother..be safe.. 

Joke of the day..

Obama dies and finds himself
before the Pearly Gates.  He is very
excited; all his life he's had a secret wish and
longed to meet the Prophet Mohammed.  Having
arrived at the Gates of Heaven, Barack meets a man with a beard.

'Are you Mohammed?' he asks.

'No, my son.  I am Peter.  Mohammed is higher up.'

Peter then points to
a ladder that rises into the clouds.  Delighted
that Mohammed should be higher than Peter, Obama
climbs the ladder in
great strides, climbs through the clouds coming to a
room where he meets another bearded man.

He asks again, 'Are you Mohammed?'

'No, I am Moses.  Mohammed is higher still.'
Exhausted, but with a heart full of joy he climbs the ladder
yet again, he discovers an even larger room where he
meets another man with a beard.

Full of hope, he asks again,
'Are you Mohammed?'

'No, I am Jesus . . . You will
find Mohammed higher up.'

Mohammed higher than
Jesus!  Man! Obama can hardly contain his
delight and climbs and climbs, ever higher.

Once again, he reaches a larger room where he meets a man

with a beard and repeats his question:  'Are you
Mohammed?' he gasps as he is,
by now, totally out of breath from all his climbing.

'No, my son . . . . I am
Almighty God. But you look exhausted.
Would you like a cup of coffee?
''Yes!  Please, my Lord.'

God looks behind him, claps his hands and yells
out:  'Yo!  Mohammed! Two coffees!'

 

Keep your trust in God -  Your government has
failed you miserably.

Mr. President..let's set the record straight..

After hearing your whine as to how you have been treated by the right like a dog I feel for the sake of all dogs out there we need to set the record straight..

Unlike yourself mister president most dogs obey their masters..No dog in his right mind would pass a health care bill that his masters did not support..No dog in it's right mind would continue to blame  others for there complete incompetence..Dogs learn from their mistakes and try to do their honest best to not make the same mistake over and over again...

Dogs don't lie..or bankrupt the countries future..Dogs have common sense,,they understand you don't bite the hand that feeds you..Dogs don't do things that hurt our economy, raise taxes or spend more time on Oprah than they do guarding their territory..Taking care of business ya know..

So next time you feel the pressure and need relief by speaking out on how your have been treated try "cockroach"...It's a much better fit..and doesn't insult the good dogs of America

Rat.. 

New Kid on the block..and I mean chopping block..

Just rolled in the door...Damn thing made me want to be a cop..well almost..All the cop stuff is gone,,but it has a brand new 103 Screaming Eagle..Before I take the torch to it anyone interested..Drop me a line and I will send you pics..if not,,well we will see what it turns out to be..

Shovel may get to go back together for one last run..don't think I will get the old dog done before Slab City..and we are going to Slab City so..back together it goes...Rat Rods, old Harley's and punk rock..I can't think of a better way to spend the 50th..

Configuring it out...

When the brain fart storm hit I knew what I wanted..Hardtail rat..when reality stroked me and the hazy memory of my hardtail pan set in I went to work on the design at the swing arm...Easy right..not so fast..I have a fatboy rear I want to run..with the new brakes..I also want to drop the ass end another 1 1/2 inches..

Now it becomes geometry..Widen the swing arm an inch, move the shocks..Make them work and clear a fender..Geometry lay them down..forward on top or back at the bottom..shorter shocks, less travel..upper brackets have to be changed..lower brackets will be wider as I stretch the swing arm..Off to the drawing board..

For those who have never experienced this it can be as good as the ride..The sense of accomplishment..the frustration that turns to smiles as you see it come together..let the fun begin..