Ben's grandfather had this old flathead 45. He said the frame and motor were left overs from WWII and that he had put road trim from the time on it instead of the war gear.
Ben told him that I had ridden dirt bikes a bit. Gramps decided I should give it a go. I'm pretty sure something was lost in translation....
Foot clutch, short legs, and a bike that weighed over twice as much as any of the dirt bikes I had ridden. How could I say no?
It's fun to have photos of your self trying to look tough when your scared as shit. Slowly eased the clutch pedal back, the torque was too much, I took off, almost hit a wooden table and laid it down. In my state of panic I tried to pick the old flatty up on my own, and just my luck, the only french words I was good at remembering ("I'm Sorry") decided to hide in the depths of my skull, when I really needed to remember them. I turned around to see Ben's grandpa walking over laughing at me... and to my relief the bike was fine, so his laughter got louder. Sweet Sweet laughter! The bike had two hand breaks to offset the difficulty of a foot clutch while stopped on hills. The pro and Paix showing me how it's done. Hopefully one day, I'll find my self back on that little french farm.
A friend of mine is letting me barrow her scanner for a bit. I only shoot maybe two rolls of print or slide film a year. Before I turned 18, it was all I shot. Dark rooms are fun. Focusing is easy.
Yes, scanning a bunch of photos from boxes in boxes. Lots of good times and good people. Holding a nice matte print in your hand, is lost on some people. Oh well.
Camping in my old truck, south of Santa Cruz, Calif. Ben and Robbie. Right out of high school. Walking the streets of Voiron, France. 18 years old. Vadim and Mat. One of these young gents in this photo has more pictures of his ass floating around then his face. Polar Bear! Might be busy the next few weeks, but hopefully I'll get a few sets and stories up.
Been putting this together for too long. Just something for fun, keep the spirit of a kid in you no matter how old you get and don't take yourself too serious.
I'll stop preaching now.
The long and winding road. Race Only I've really only ridden it around the block with no breaks or pedals and went to the taco shop once.
Might as well test it out by taking it on a 40 mile trip around San Diego.
There were about twelve of us that all went. Eleven made it back. Two stroke ain't no Joke!
Here's some of those other bikes. Tough as shit, biker gang photo op. Lined up. Southern California in December is a hell I would wish on no man, women, or child.
Utterly untollerable. I had to shovel the sunshine out of my driveway just to get out of my house today. Look how miserable I look.
But as is the case with much of my goings on, I broke mere miles from home. Came to a skid stop and the break arm twisted and rapped around the frame, bending it. Hopefully it's fixable and I can reenforce it a bit. You break it you buy it. Guess I'm not selling it anymore. Sitting in greener pastures. Where bikes of all kinds go to rest. Travis's back yard. (I'll get you for the motor don't worry!) Thanks to my dad for snagging the frame as well!
You guys are breaking my bloody heart. Get mean. play chippy. What would Ricci Do?
This guy sits behind my dad at the games. Ducks Suck.
I'm sure you hated that... if I've painted your kettle teflon then you might enjoy this. This one may throw you off at first, the poor quality and dismal audio, but he (to use a southern california word) shreeeeeeaaaadddddddsssss. Mix, canada, country, steel guitar, trains, and countryjam and your bidding is as good as done.
Sure, you hated that too... but you got to hear some guy with a heavy canadian acsent say,
So sit down. And waste time. Who pays for cable anymore?
Lets start with the basics. (p.s "how it's made" is the antiques road show of the late 2000's, tens, tweens. Whatever it's called. It's always on at the place I eat PHO at. And I will watch it till my eyes bleed.) Knowledge is power. Fight the power.
Iconic as it gets. This is the gum that gets stuck to your shoe; Brain edition.
Hit's the heart rather strong as well.
The newer generation of the steel guitar sound... "Friends of Dean Martinez" Look them up.
Same chit. Song sucks I know.
So your hooked, you want one. No need to sell your fixed gear or custom 70's van. One man's trash is another man's waste of time.
A personal favorite of mine. Sweet Sweet Tammy.
Webster Dictionary Definition:
I save the best for last. The pimp magic don juan was known for saying "green is for the money, gold is for the honey....my main!" Gold Suit, CHECK. Green Hat, CHECK. Pinky Ring, CHECK! TIME TO BLOWN YOUR MIND. I'M CALLINGYOU OUT MR. J. GARCIA!
So now picture that was just your large fry. And the monopoly game is in full swing.
Instant win Bitches! Free mcflurry, and a trip to the 8th demention. A place where a beardless, ponytail-less, sober, turtle neck wearing Willie Nelson lives and thrive.