The Jet City Boys

Jake's Sportster and my Pan. Both built in Jake's shop.
Completely different but happy together.

Washington State Accelerator Pump

Beetle's Merc.

If you see this car at the local bar, run away. Beetle Bailey is 65 years old and still going harder than anyone I know. Gnarly guy.

Some freaky shit

I'm a bit strung out on this song, and I can't say why for certain.

Fortunate

I consider myself fortunate to call the guy above one of my dearest, if not my dearest friend. Josh Higgins is one of my heroes. While the world is going nuts he's taking it all in, living the simple life he chooses to live. He's the truth in a sea of lies.



At the other end of the scale is my dear friend Steve Glucoft. He's calculated, generous, shrewd, caring, and deep. He's somehow the essence of entrepreneurship captured in one, single human being. He's built something so few people value these days in his 'door is always open' hot rod shop AMOCAT- community.

Heroes.

My dream car

Truly a great commuter.

Biker Chicks Rule

My little buddy Gracie above.



My other little buddy Izzie.

And one more from back in the day

A little older in this picture- about 6. I rode that little Suzuki 125 for 100's of hours. It didn't have suspension and wasn't too fast, but it was a lot of fun. We had two of them at my uncle's house out in the country and were racing in the back lawn one day when I took a corner too tight and hit a bush. Everything went into slow motion as I Super Man'd it over the bars and sailed for a good 20 feet. No injuries 'cuz little kids never really get hurt doing stupid stuff like that.

Shakey Sawzal Session

My buddy Marshall. Good dude.

This is how I rolled

I was about two here. 1980 or so. I don't remember it, but I guess I used to set on my uncle or dad's lap and steer. The good old days.

Thursday Night

Panhead fix-a-thon at Jake's tonight. He was finish welding his oil tank for the Matchless upon my arrival. It's going to be a beautiful bike and Jake is becoming a Jedi TIG Master.

As far as my bike goes, everything you hear about old Harley's is true.

1. They shake themselves to death. I've become quite intimate with all flavors of Loctite
2. You ride them for a couple hours, then work on them for a couple days. It is what it is. They're fun.
3. HD = hundred dollars. You can't look at these things without spending one hundred dollars.



After hitting my knee really hard on my license plate bracket, figuring out how to make my rear brake work better, and coming up a little off on a couple brackets, it was time to head to Dick's for an 11:30 pm burger. Fuck! Dick's only takes cash and I had one lousey dollar with me. The place's prices are cheap, but not that cheap. Damn.



Just some flyers plastered on a bridge support pole on the way home. Whatever.

Chuck's 45

Here's my buddy Chuck's little 45 that'll be getting some magazine love eventually. I hope to buy this bike in the not too near future, convert it to foot shift, change up a few other things, and give it to my wife to cruise around on. I'd trip out if I saw a chick come out of the grocery store, kick this to life, and casually role out.

For Zombie

Hunting Humans

Yep.

Such a beautiful picture

Scott Pommier is really talented with the camera. I've heard he's a good dude too.

Some people are into the hair of the dog...

I'm into the head of the duck.

Poon in the Northwest

The Harpoon rolled through town about a week ago and took good care of my friend Chuck. Always good to see the big man.

Humble

It's better to be humble than cocky. I guess that's something you learn as you grow up.

Gas Works Rastafarian

When Good Luck Gary was in town last week we went to Gas Works Park to run Logan, my son. Logan is like a Greyhound, he needs to be run every day. Strangely though, he never tires like a Greyhound. I'll never understand. Anyway, the whole time we were there downbeat Reggae could be heard in the distance, which lent a neat vibe to the setting. Beautiful blue skied day, lots of people tossing the Frisbee and lounging, Reggae...pretty cool. So we're walking over by the giant old boilers and superchargers that used to run the gas plant, and here's where the music was coming from. I'm super glad Gary got a picture of the dude, as he was definitely deserving of having one snapped.

I fucking love Seattle.

Feisty Old Broad

There's this lady who lives across the street from us who puts stuff in her trees. I've met her a couple times and she's a surly old girl. She's never been mean to me, but man, you just know she's not one to tangle with. I'm sure most folks don't like here style, but I enjoy it. I wish more people would embrace their want to do crazy shit with their land. It's their's after all.

Have fun in NY guys...

I'll miss ya'!

Bad little MF'er

The masses seem to trip out on how "big and heavy" Harley Davidson's are. In full dress they are, but as choppers they're nearly light. I push mine into the back of my truck with no problems all the time. Momentum. The dude above though, Ace, he makes that Gen. Shovel look BIG. Small guy, killer bike, killer picture.

No rest for the wicked

Crazy weekend.

• Two runs to the airport for two friends
• Lunch and beers with one large 'The Harpoon'
• One unfruitful a.m. kicking session with the 53 at Jake's. Excellent donuts
• Huge dissapointment and sadness due to bike not cooperating
• Angy Salmon due to gasoline
• One BBQ with WAAAAAY more people in attendance than expected (a good thing)
• Killer jumpy house in back lawn at BBQ
• Happy neighborhood kids
• Meeting new friends at BBQ - DJ is cool
• Imprompt early evening "we can fix it" session on 53 spurred by goading of one Marshall Woolrey and help of one Marshall Woolrey and one Mike Soldano
• Bike starting and rattling windows
• Bike MUCH louder with new pipes than with old 2 into 1 pipe
• Feeling that neighbors don't like new pipes
• Me finally feeling happy though more tuning is required
• Big clean up of BBQ mess (ongoing)
• Trip down to Dice Magazine party thing
• Kook hitting Eric's Pontiac on his motorcycle
• Sadness due to Eric's sadness
• Little happier again due to Richard's out of control 700+ hp. burnout in altered wheel base Belvidere destoyer machine
• Weird vibe at bar and no good scenesters but good talks with friends outside
• Two diet cokes. One beer
• Home by 1 a.m., sleep, up early on Sunday morning
• RAD photo shoot with Good Luck Gary in two neat locations
• Good coffee and muffins
• Failed attempt at afternoon nap due to active Logan
• Fun hang-out reading session with Leah the heart melter
• Great back lawn baseball session with Gary and Logan with cockeyed base running
• Two failed attempts at getting into restaurants for dinner with final victory at good local sushi joint
• Trip to Gas Works park to tire Logan - didn't work. Only Gary and Anthony tired. Logan's dial goes to 12
• Two Olympia beers at fine local drinking establishment
• One plan to produce a book with Gary
• Happiness and good feeling about handful of great friends
• Wonderful conversation on way to airport
• Done

Beautiful image

Tattoos don't mean much anymore. It is what it is.

So close...

Jake and I are really close on the Panhead and are going like mad men.

-Install choke rod
-Install and gap points, condenser, and plugs
-Wrap plugs and petcock for tank with Teflon and install it along with fuel line
-Install pipes and seat
-Add oil to trans. and top off oil bag
-Kick, kick, kick

The picture above is of the hard lines for a Pratt & Whitney J58 Jet engine- one of two that power SR-71 Blackbirds. How'd you like to plumb that sucker? It's the only jet engine ever designed to operate on continous afterburner and it's a bad mama-jama.

Good Company

I'm fortunate to keep the company of a lot of people who don't suck and I appreciate them all, from my family to my friends. The guy on the left is my friend Jason and the one on the right is my friend Mike.

Little Rascals

Jake's little girl getting geared up for the only thing that really matters when you're five- sugar.



Logan doing his best impression of himself.

Down to the wire

Super Jake and I are going all out to get the Pan ready for the party thinger and Good Luck Gary's arrival next weekend. We're left with some wiring, straightening out a fucked Lee clutch pedal situation, putting the carb on, and lighting it up.

Thanks to Jake's wife and mine for being real, real cool about this nonsense. I appreciate it more than I can say, along with all of Jake's help.

LaFaye's Flat Track Scout

A true race bike, not one built to look like it's raced.

Lump of Power

I'm not sure how you can't be intrigued by the drivers of nitro burning dragsters, even if you're not a car person. Basically, you have someone making a conscious decision to spend thousands of hours and thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars on something that stands a good chance of killing them, or at the very least, eating itself alive on a fairly regular basis. And then there's the cost of fuel, about $1000 per 55 gallon barrel. To be clear, these monsters consume about one gallon per second of running time.

To say their owners do it for the love is a bit of an understatement, but when you stand next to one of the cars they've built you get it...at least I get it. You don't just just hear these things, you feel them. At idle ear plugs are required. When the throttle is blipped your entire body convulses. When standing near one next to the strip, the sheer force of a full power launch will rock you back onto your heels.

These cars are one of the most glorious things America has to offer, and that's just as a spectator. To experience it all as a driver...I can't even relate.