We first came across @CarterCartier on Instagram a few years ago when his fantastic illustrations of motorcycles sporting coffee ring wheels were a sensation. Having formed an immediate respect for his talents, along with a budding friendship, we couldn't resist convincing him to once again pick up the art form he pioneered. Armed with our Diner Mug, Corner Booth Blend coffee, and Company Lead pencil, he immortalizes a prized CB450 Black Bomber ... and tells us all about it.
Words: Mike Higgins Images: Carter Asmann
GSCo: Let's start with just some background. You're a San Diego area guy, born and raised, but you went to school at Oregon?
Yeah. It was really fun to be a student there. I studied art, yes. Double major actually, art and economics. I did do very traditional classes, like art history and art studio classes. I like drawing and painting, and printmaking was kind of my thing. But then on the flip side, I was studying economics and doing math, so like existing in two different worlds in school. But it was fun.
GSCo: So that exposure to art as well as the business side obviously helps. We know you originally from your Instagram. How did that following come about and grow?
I've always liked drawing and painting, but really started putting stuff on Instagram in 2014. Which was really the peak, like heyday, it was my favorite time of Instagram. It was very community-driven and everyone was just so connected.
And people that you would connect with would like actually form these internet friendships. It was a very fun time on Instagram and people were just genuinely interested in sharing content and finding stuff.
GSCo: A lot of people found you that way, along with your very unique art. Talk about how that idea of the coffee ring came to be.
Well, literally the very first one I was using my sketchbook as a coaster and it left the coffee ring and I just kind of like incorporated it into the drawing ... and then I further developed the idea around using that as a compositional element. At the time I was living north of San Diego and was friends with the guy that ran a shop called Seaweed and Gravel. We were talking a lot about motorcycles and coffee and the cafe scene in San Diego, and Los Angeles. It was just fortuitous that I was also hanging out in his shop to see this Cafe Racer build, and all the pieces kind of fell together at the same time and the coffee ring concepts paired really nicely with the cafe racer. And so I did the first as a kind of collaboration using the CB550 build that the shop had just finished. They were posting it and I was posting it, and it kind of just went pretty viral.
GSCo: It certainly took off. How did it evolve from that first post.
Well, my art in general is very analytical and very precise. And so the first ones were done a little bit faster. So they had detail, but definitely were more of an exercise. But once I refined it, the more time I spent on it, the more detail focused it got. So now, you know a drawing will take twenty five hours or so just to make sure it's as precise as I can get, at that scale. One of the main focuses was combining that detail element with the messy, organic element of the stain.
GSCo: That is a big part of the intrigue it seems to create. How do you choose how to use the ring for say, each type of motorcycle. Is it different for each?
It kind of depends on the wheel set that was chosen, and the bike and the composition. Some of them, the older ones, I found to be more successful without the spokes. And then some have the spoke patterns, like the Black Bomber, or like a BMW R 90. The ones that I like, with a cool wheelset, I will tend to include it.
GSCo: You seem to know these machines. Are you a bike guy yourself?
I definitely grew up around bikes and motorcycles and vintage cars. So, the whole whole scene was definitely something I admired. I appreciate the engineering and mechanics, and the motors themselves, more than anything. I was touring the custom bike scene a lot with the art for a while. And just seeing these different cities and how what's going down at a show in Austin is different than San Francisco, and that's different than the Portland show. That's what I find to be the most interesting.
GSCo: You were part of the shows too? Through the Oil and Ink expo with John Christenson?
John's the best. And he really helped spread the word about motorcycle art. And so I traveled to some of those shows. He was helpful in connecting me with a bunch of other people as well.
GSCo: Well, you've moved on from posting a lot of the coffee ring art, so we really appreciate you dusting off the sketchbook for us. Did you enjoy getting back into it for this project?
Yeah. That's always the fun part about commissions, when people are so familiar and connected with their bike. To recreate that for someone that appreciates all the attention to detail. I really enjoy doing it. I'm just doing so many other art forms. I've been doing a lot of pottery and painting and different sculpture work, so yeah, of course, I enjoy going back to drawing.
GSCo: Well, it seemed so perfect, with the coffee, the mug and even the pencil. We just had to get you on board.
I didn't know that you guys had done the pencil. I'd seen that you guys were building the coffee mug and the coffee. But then when you offered a pencil, I was surprised. It all fit so well with the art concept. And the pencil itself is so smooth. It's great for the larger areas. I use a really small mechanical pencil on the line work and most of the detailing. But some of the larger areas that are more just kind of tonal ranges I use a normal pencil.
GSCo: We love it. And really appreciate you taking it on, and taking the time to talk us through it. Enjoy the weather in San Diego. We're a little jealous being stuck on the East coast right now. Hopefully you can get back this way soon.
Yeah. Sounds great.
You can view more of Carter's art on his website, or by following @CarterCartier on Instagram.
Godspeed Co. has been avid followers, participants, and supporters of the Gentleman's Ride for years now. In fact, a couple of us met on the NYC ride, became fast friends and now biz partners. This year, we're proud to be a local sponsor of the NYC ride, with co-founder Mike co-hosting the event. Tally Ho, indeed! - GSCo.
Words: Mike Higgins
Images: Rahoul Ghose, Hugh Miller, Ryan Handt, and Arnaldo Vargas
The Distinguished Gentleman's RIde celebrated 10 years since the first group of folks cinched their silk ties and pulled on helmets to form a charity ride for prostate cancer research. That decade has seen the ride grow from several groups in a few cities, to over 700 rides in countless countries, with 70,0000 plus participants in a single year helping raise funds and awareness for an expanding range of Men's Health issues. Ten years has seen over $35 Million dollars raised.
This years ride was, of course, hampered by Covid restrictions, with many cities adopting a Ride Solo format to eliminate the large groups that the ride enjoys. NYC followed suit, but introduced what they called a Passport Challenge that gave riders a few destinations to make a stop along their route through NYC.
One such stop proved to be an epic opportunity. Working with NYPD, ride hosts Allister Klingensmith and our own Mike Higgins were able to shut down the Park Ave viaduct, allowing riders to get photographed in front of the iconic Grand Central Terminal.
We pay tribute to the cause, the efforts of several photographers, and the sheer audacity of the DGR NYC to attempt such a stunt, by sharing a few galleries from the big event.
We'll start with a few ridiculous shots from Hugh Miller, aka @MillerMotography:
The entire Rolling Photo opportunity was sponsored by Proraso USA, a long-time DGR NYC sponsor, and coordinated by Rahoul Ghose of NYCMotorcyclist. His own gallery gives a more intimate and candid view of the riders as they roll into place for their portraits:
Another veteran of the DGR NYC and contributing photographer that gave his own view of the festivities that day was our friend, Ryan Handt. He chose to hang back a bit and get a behind the scenes look at things, with great effect:
Another stop along the Passport Challenge was Gotham Depot Moto, a short ride across the bridges to Brooklyn. There, riders encountered yet another opportunity for an amazing photo of themselves on their classic motos. Our final showcase highlights the work of Arnaldo Vargas, and his wonderful portraits:
A big congrats to the Gentleman's Ride for reaching a truly remarkable milestone. And to the DGR NYC crew for another great showing, with 660+ riders registered and just over $91K raised for Men's Health.
For a full viewing of the expanded and fantastic galleries from the day's festivities, visit NYCMotorcyclist.com.
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A Roadkill illustration is much like the motorbike itself. Beautiful, meticulously crafted, with bright pops of color ... but with an underlying sense of danger.
]]>Words: Mike Higgins Images: Ryan Quickfall & Team
The name's Quickfall. Ryan Quickfall. And like any proper Brit worthy of an alias, he's seemingly mild mannered – when not working up shady characters for his latest project, or working up the muster to get his moto screaming around the flat track. This double agent likes his cocktail of work and hobby shaken and stirred, and with just a twist of madness. By birth he is Ryan Quickfall, a name anyone would be thrilled to have, but for his art and his alter ego, he's chosen the moniker – Roadkill.
Since his first memories of childhood, he's scribbled his own version of the world down on paper: to offset the boredom of life in the English hamlet of Newcastle Upon Thyme. The world he was creating was far from boring.
That world has evolved over the years, taking on a distinct personality and shape that very much defines the Roadkill aesthetic. The style can be traced to Ryan's love of the comic books and graphic novels he poured over, first as an arty kid, then as a burgeoning illustrator. The shape, for much of his work, can be linked to one overriding theme – the motorcycle.
"As a kid, I always drew to kill time." Ryan says, "Quite often, the content was cars, aircraft or motorcycles. It was a matter of progression that I rode bikes myself. And so I started to do motorcycle illustration more and more."
The past ten years have seen a real change in the motorcycle culture. What was once a niche or even fringe set of folks with a particular outlook, is now an ever-growing community from a widening range of society that looks at two wheeled machines as both a lifestyle choice, and a pop-art icon. Combining his whimsical yet gritty style with a motorbike-centric subject matter wasn't a deliberate choice, but it proved a great fit.
A Roadkill illustration is much like the motorbike itself. Beautiful, meticulously crafted, with bright pops of color ... but with an underlying sense of danger. The art, like the bikes, is alive with vibrancy and personality. Above all else, it moves.
"I'm just so used to expressing movement," Ryan says. It's just something that is engrained in my brain. The motion is just informed from doing all the motorcycle artwork."
The influence can certainly be seen in the inherent motion and emotion in his world, but also in the characters he creates to inhabit that world. The Roadkill universe is made of an eclectic collection of misfits. Each of them quirky, funny, and fantastical in their own way.
"There's no specific reason that I do that," Ryan explains. "It's just something I started doing because I enjoyed it. Maybe I've got a weird sense of humor."
A recurring form that often takes center stage is the skeleton. More mischief than macabre, these undead have a way of lending a gravitas to the jubilance, but also bring a welcome levity to the grim and grittiness.
"One thing I like about the skeletons. There's no sex, and there's no race to them. I always think it's mad, that everybody is a skeleton inside, and you never get to see it. So maybe subconsciously, I see that as illustrating the inner self."
Humanity depicted as skeletons is a thematic that has been prominent in art since the first cave drawings and hieroglyphics. The Calaveras (skulls), made famous by the pioneering Mexican printmaker Jose Guadalupe Posada, was a powerful commentary on the social inequalities of his time. Their use, quite controversial then, made the simple but profound point – we're all skeletons in the end.
"I'm a huge fan of Posada's work," Ryan says. "And you know, that's what I've always said about motorcycles themselves. No matter who you are, rich, poor, whatever ... as soon as you go out on a motorbike, and you meet another person on a motorbike ... you're the same."
That stripping away of identity, outside of what's being portrayed through the action on the page, allows his characters to be anyone, and in some ways everyone. There's a delightful sense of mystery, alongside all the whimsy.
This seems to carry over to the artist himself. Whether he's masked in the helmet and riding gear of his flat track racer identity or cloaked by the cast of characters of his Roadkill alias, Ryan seems to relish the freedom that a bit of anonymity offers.
"I just try to enjoy myself," he says with a slight grin. "So, any opportunity I get to sort of mess about. Well, I'll take that opportunity."
See more of the madness at RyanRoadkill.com and keep up on all the latest by following @RyanRoadkill
]]>The Distinguished Gentleman's Ride has been something Godspeed Co. has followed, participated in, and supported for years now. In fact, a couple of us met on the NYC ride, became fast friends and now biz partners. Today, we're proud to support it all in a big way, with Chris now riding in Saratoga, Mike co-hosting NYC, and Allan capturing all the action in Hamilton, Ontario ... along with a very special edition of our Shop Rag Shirt! Tally Ho, indeed! - GSCo.
Words: Mike Higgins Images: Mike, Allan, & Chris
In a normal year, the final Sunday in September sees the Distinguished Gentleman Ride descending upon towns and cities the world over. This charity motorcycle ride is both a showcase of the human spirit, as well as a spectacle of sheer humanity. From a few dozen in hamlets dotting the globe, to the throngs that make the Sydney, London and NYC events swell well past 1000 riders, each group is an eclectic collection of avid motorcyclists with a penchant for dapper dress and do-gooding. Yet, this is not a normal year.
A worldwide organization dedicated to men's health with an emphasis on prostate cancer and suicide prevention, the DGR is steadfast in their aim of raising awareness and funds, along with more than a few eyebrows. A classier gathering of motorcycle and rider you’d be hard pressed to find. Bucking the usual stereotypes of the rough and tumble biker crowd, these Gentleman (and Ladyfolk) trade the leather and Levi’s for tailored tweed, ties and the occasional top hat (when not donning a helmet, of course). The bikes too, trend toward the elegant, with beautiful examples ranging from British and European classics and vintage Japanese customs, to modern takes on the streamlined café racer style. This combination of meticulous man and immaculate machine is what makes the ride stand out from the crowd. But what if there is no crowd?
With a pandemic causing challenges in all corners of the globe, amassing the DGR faithful this September 27th in the service of good health would seem counterproductive, if not reckless. The more than 650 different ride events that attracted over 150,000 riders worldwide last year are left wondering how to channel their collective philanthropic energy and obvious desire for some much needed camaraderie. "Ride Dapper," has always been the driving mantra. This year, it's been replaced by "Ride Solo, Together."
Some would argue that the current climate calls for these energies, and the funds they can generate, to be channeled toward more global concerns. But as the ride's focus has turned towards shining a light on mental health, it feels somehow even more prescient to fire up the motorbikes and cast the collective headlights directly on that issue. These times are difficult on everyone's state of mind.
What the Distinguished Gentleman's Ride does quite well is get men together, get them to open up a bit about their well-being, and to carry that message onto a global stage. That's been the strength of it since its inception. But one side effect, one that each rider that takes the effort to knot the tie and button up the tweed each year can attest to, is that it bolsters your own mental health just by participating. The Ride is therapeutic in itself.
Ride Solo, Together allows us to do just that. This year, the chance to get away from current surroundings, to get into your dapper duds, and to get out on the motorbike is the opportunity we all so desperately need. If even for a couple hours. Certainly, the spectacle that comes from the collection of tweed-clad motorists amassed in one spot will be missed. And the loss of gathering friends and fellow enthusiasts into an event unlike any other is a real shame. But the camaraderie can be duplicated. And it should be. In so many ways, this year is begging for us to pull together more than ever.
It will still be a shared experience. The power of social media will ensure we see old friends, meet new ones, and send our "loves" to them all. It will still create great moments, precious memories, and of course fantastic photographs. We can still follow the parade of all the dashing DGR faithful as the clock travels the globe. The only difference, this year we come together ... by staying apart.
This year's Distinguished Gentleman's "Solo" Ride is coming up, September 27th across the world. The Godspeed Co crew will be participating in New York City, Saratoga NY, and Hamilton Ontario. To register for your own Solo Ride, or to offer support, visit GentlemansRide.com
]]>Words: Leif Ramsey Images: Pathfinder Films & Chris Logsdon
The Honda Pioneer side-by-side chattered around a hairpin corner, struggling to grip the road. $100,000 of camera equipment swinging off the back. Five feet away — in the lane for on-coming traffic — a 998cc a black cafe-style Honda CB1000R downshifted once, twice, and three times to keep the RPMs pegged on the inside of the turn.
Philippe, the driver of the Pioneer called his boss, “Hey Casey, bad news. Don’t worry no one is hurt. (Pause) Yeah...I kissed the guardrail. (Pause) The Pioneer is in pretty bad shape.”
The project started with a handshake agreement. No money changed hands, just a lot of goodwill. The partners were Godspeed Co, an apparel company; Southern Honda Powersports, the largest Honda powersports dealer in the U.S.; and Pathfinder Films, a commercial production company.
The story was inspired by a quote from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance:
“On a cycle the frame is gone. You’re completely in contact with it all. You’re in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming.”
The bike in SHP’s fleet that fit the ethos of the script was a CB1000R, Honda’s 2019 ode to a sport café-racer. It’s powered by a 143 horsepower, 4-cylinder, that lays down 76 pound-feet of torque and has a top speed of 141mph. There’s a tradeoff for all that power, at 467 pounds wet, the CBR has some mass. That didn’t stop Kyle, our stunt rider, from burning out and riding wheelies for camera.
Production for the 75-second film ran for three days. The script was written to capture the feel of the South — the patina of the Mom & Pop gas stations, the intense green of the deciduous forests in the summer, the drone of cicadas, and the twists and turns of the country roads. Riding in the South is a very different experience than traveling through the desert landscapes of the Southwest United States or forests of Western Canada.
Southern Honda Powersports supplied the bike, the side-by-side and drivers. The side-by-side made for a great camera vehicle, it had excellent mount points for building out a speed rail frame, and allowed for forward and rear mounting positions for the camera. The camera was an ARRI Alexa Mini with vintage Kowa anamorphic lenses stabilized on a gimbal rig. (Anamorphic lenses are what gives the horizontal light streaks from lens flares.) Everything was controlled remotely from the back seat of the side-by-side with a joystick.
Sweat rolled down cheeks in the 90-degree weather. After a pause that must have felt like an eternity to his boss, Philippe fessed up. The Pioneer was fine. No accident had happened. The side-by-side probably needed a new set of tires after a dozen passes in the hairpin, but we had safely filmed some very cool shots.
Read Making of Call of the Wild, a photo story.
Words: Mike Higgins Images: Allan Glanfield
It's no small event now. Not even close. With over 100,000 riders in 650 cities raising $6 Million last year, it's a global sensation. But the thing about the Distinguished Gentleman's Ride that's so remarkable, and has surely contributed to its wild success, is that it makes any place on the planet feel small ... and tight nit. The ride brings people together. It takes a sprawling metropolis or a crowded township, and for a day in September, makes it small community of friends with a common passion and a shared interest in rallying for a cause.
The DGR has always been about raising money and awareness for men's health concerns. With that charitable cause focusing much more attention on mental health and suicide prevention the last couple years, this aspect of building community no small thing. In many ways, each ride is not simply creating a forum to put a spotlight on health issues, it's creating the opportunity to combat them. It's creating community.
There's very much a stigma about mental health, and in particular men's mental health. The idea of toughening up and just getting over it, is certainly a stereotypical male mentality. Throw in a guy that makes motorcycling part of his lifestyle, and the perceived need to display a certain amount of machismo increases. In the same way that the DGR set out to dispel the notion that all "biker gangs" are a rogue element of "hellraisers," this renewed focus is hell-bent on debunking the idea that men shouldn't show vulnerability or talk about real feelings.
Getting people together is the most important aspect of what DGR does, and an important first step. It gets a spirited group of folks out for a Sunday ride to talk about their passions, and to share in a great event for a great cause. And it's determined to get everyone that's so eager to talk bikes and beards and bespoke suits, to open up a bit more, and talk about anything that might really be on their mind.
And that's no small feat.
Images from the 2018 Gentleman's Ride, Hamilton, Ontario.
For more information on how you can get involved in the cause visit GentlemansRide.com.
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Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum, Hamilton, ON. Canada
]]>Interview and Images: Chris Logsdon
CL: Barber 2016 - what were the highlights for you?
SBL: I wasn’t originally planning to go to Barber last year but thankfully at the last minute my plans did come together. Getting from the West coast to the East coast is expensive and requires pre-planning, two things that I was caught short on. At the 11th hour Ari Henning had to back out, which opened up a sacred spot in the van with Stephen and Kevin Hipp from the legendary racing family 2HippRacing. The father/son duo was making the journey from California to Alabama together and offered to take 555. From the first moment I laid eyes on the illustrious Hipp Family’s pit at Corsa Motoclassica 2010, I’ve admired the exuberant methodology and mysterious acumen that seemed intangible. One of the highlights of Barber 2016 was having the opportunity to pit with 2HippRacing. It felt like Smokey and I had been admitted into an illusive inner circle of vintage racing, and felt comfortable and supported.
SBL: Rather than fly into the small airport of Birmingham-Shuttlesworth International Airport, which can get pricey because there are fewer flights. It turned out it was penny-wise to fly into Jackson, Mississippi, which also allowed for some quality time with our Mississippi racing family, Kim and Steve Sharp (thespeedstable) and their three daughters, who were also planning to drive in. Steve and I have had some good and close battles on the track in the past and last year was par for the course. When your friends are upping their game just to gun you down, you and your equipment really need to be on point in order to stay in the game. Everyone starts the weekend with high hops and goals for the weekend, mine was to race hard, laugh hard, and complete my racing program of four races with the rubber-side down.
Barber 2016 was also the last event my good friend and mentor Ron Perconti would attend; he passed away in his sleep the night he returned home from Barber. There are so many ups and downs on any given race weekend and the bonds that form from going through them together is unique and profound. Racing these vintage machines attracts some real characters with encyclopedia amounts of stories and knowledge. There is magic in the paddock as we all work hard together to get our bikes onto the track, after the races we play and laugh even harder, and the stories and sharing of knowledge goes on into the wee hours of the night. Barber 2016 was no different, but it is the last one we will have with Ron. So I’m very grateful to have these memories and others that I would have missed had I not made the pilgrimage to Barber 2016.
CL: What goes thru your mind before you race?
SBL: Before I race my mind slows down and I stop thinking in words. Language begins to slip away and transforms to feelings and impulses. Motion around me crystallizes and my senses intensify so that I’m even more aware of the sound my breath and the beat of my heart. Acute focus consumes me as first call clicks to second clicks to third as I complete the final preparations, jump on and 555 starts up with a roar, and we head in the direction of the other rumblers, waiting to enter the track. As I complete my warm-up lap and approach the grid the rhythm of the engine oscillating as my hand pulses the throttle keeping the engine primed helping to contain the adrenaline that’s coursing. Waiting for the flag to drop is a delicate balance between the complete saturation from the buzz and resisting the compulsion to let the acceleration and the power of the moment consume you. This threshold of tension is a golden moment, when all the elements are charging together, your heart is pounding in your ears to the vibrations of the engine underneath and all around you, and all you can do is force your breathing to slow down and focus on the flag about to drop, and then everything goes silent and then full blast.
CL: Can you walk us thru your pre-race rituals?
SBL: My pre-race rituals start as soon as I complete my last race of the weekend. As soon as I come off the track, I’m already thinking of what I need to do before I get back on. That’s how all-consuming racing is. As soon as I’ve completed my racing program for the weekend, I dump the oil from the bike and give it a rub down. Cleaning the bike not only makes it look nice but it also allows me to see where oil leaks might be, see if anything has come loose, is broken, or come off, and let’s me know what needs to be done once we get home to the shop. It’s way nicer to do prep at the shop than in the pit. Often working on the bike in the paddock is unavoidable, but it’s still nice to try.
Once back at the track, its nice to have certain foods and drinks that help get the body and mind ready for the competition. Everyone has their own rituals, but I like getting up early and walking around the paddock while everyone is still asleep. Getting my blood flow going in my body helps me to wake up and get my head in the game.
SBL: If I have a bicycle at the track then it’s also really nice to ride around with the sun still rising and watching the track wake up. I’m nervous before races, so eating light for me is key and then getting in my leathers so I am ready for the first round of practice. Practice starts at 8am sharp so often the first round is empty and its incredible to have the track to yourself while you’re still trying to wake up. I really look forward to Saturday morning practice, with all the anticipation and excitement and a full weekend of racing still in front of us.
CL: How does the Barber track compare to others?
SBL: As we all know, racing at any track any day of the week is always a great day. One of the coolest things about AHRMA is that it’s a national circuit that races at some of the best tracks in the country. I've had the opportunity to race at Willow Springs, Sonoma (Sears Point), Utah (Miller), Road America, Grattan, New Orleans Raceway, New Jersey Motorsports and Barber. With other clubs I've raced at Chuckwalla, Adams, have done two 24-hr endurance races at the Willow Springs Go-Cart Track, and even got in a few laps at Laguna Seca with my BMW on the Quail Ride. However, racing at Barber Motorsports Park is an extraordinary experience.
If Barber Motorsports was only a 17-turn track with a perfectly maintained surface through a woodland landscape interwoven with sculptures and modern architecture, it would be super cool. If Barber Motorsports was only an event that attracted a few hundred people instead of the 80,000 spectators, it would be super cool. If Barber Motorsports was only an event where the grids included a few of your racing family instead of the 50 that all race towards turn 1 together, it would be super cool. If Barber Motorsports was only a fun and technical track with both long straights so everyone gets up to speed and tight corners that are challenging for the small bikes instead of also including the largest vintage motorcycle museum in the world, it would still be super cool.
If Barber Motorsports was only attended by a few east coast friends that its nice to catch up with once a year, instead of all the folks that make the pilgrimage from Canada, Europe, and Nationally, it would still be super cool. Barber Motorsports is an incredible track, however once all the other factors are added up it equals a bar none racing experience on and off the track. Barber Vintage Festival is difficult to describe because the experience is so unique and individual, however the energy is intoxicating and impressive. It’s impossible and unfair to compare it.
CL: We've been keeping an eye on your Instagram feed and noticed you wrenching on a particular Harley. Can you let us in on the secret?
SBL: I am beginning my LSR program for the 2017 race season. Last year after winning Lady Road Racer of the Year it seemed like the perfect time to put my road racing on pause in order to start my land speed record hunt. Focusing on land speed racing with the SCTA (Southern California Timing Association) also means that can get in a little more action with the Bultaco and flat track. As a national circuit AHRMA Road Racing can be an enormous time commitment if you let it and will absorb as much as you gladly give it, until it slowly gobbles up all your “free” time. STCA starting in May competes once a month at El Mirage Dry Lake. So I’m looking forward to only racing once a month and only traveling 1.5hrs in order to do it. Then in August is Speed Week at Bonneville Salt Flats and my salt fever is already brewing.
SBL: I’ve been going to SCTA events for the past four years and helping on Ralph Hudson’s LSR team. After last season when Ralph became the fastest sit on motorcycle at El Mirage (and probably the world) with his 266mph record, we had time to take a serious look at the rulebook to determine which class and bike to begin my LSR record chase. The 250 Push Rod classes seemed like the best bet and a 250 Aermacchi (Harley Davidson) fit the bill. After scouring the interwebs, talking to Aermacchi racers and builders across the country, and getting the word out, I found the perfect bike and I discovered I only needed to drive to San Francisco to a friend’s garage to acquire it. It’s so great when a plan comes together.
SBL: I did not know, but as it turns out, another very fast racer and good friend Jim Hoogerhyde also has a fondness for these obscure Harley Davidson Italian imports, and even has LSR records with an Aermacchi. Once Ralph told Jim that I was after one, all bets were off. Jim had sold his stock of “Small Harleys” to a mutual friend and fellow 160 racer John Regan in order to invest into his expanding LSR racing program. A few texts and emails later and it was ascertained that John was happy about making room in his garage for other projects as long as the bike was going to the right home, which it clearly was. So a deal was struck for the 1967 Harley Davidson (Aermacchi) 250 Sprint SS.
Below are a series of shots taken by Kel Pritchard, Christopher Wood and Jean Laughton of Stacie aboard her vintage 250 Aermacchi where she was only 1.4mph away from the record held at el Mirage. See more of Stacie by following her on Instagram at @triplenickel555.
Words: Mike Higgins Images: Allan Glanfield & Mike Higgins
The long shapes cast by the setting sun mark the finish of another inspired outing for The Race Of Gentlemen. The dark shadows reach back toward the Wildwood, New Jersey shoreline, and manage to stretch back to another era.
Nostalgia is a powerful emotion. And T.R.O.G., now in its sixth year, plays on that theme like very few events can. It has grown from a few guys with a passion for pre-war hotrods and an idea, into a spectacle that now draws thousands to a 1/8 mile strip of sand butted up against this beach town boardwalk.
We’re here to witness the self-proclaimed automotive carnival – the blur of the lines between grace and grit, theatrics and mechanics, distant past and blissful present. We’re here to the watch the heroes of the day pay powerful homage to the giants of yesterday.
Those giants loom heavy. The Harleys, and Davidsons, the Indians and Excelciors. The Fords, Chevrolets and Dodge Brothers. The ghosts of Carlsbad that led the way and Daytona Beach that followed. But where the giants of the past give the event gravitas, the heroes of the present infuse plenty of levity. None more so than the gentleman with the method behind all this madness – Meldon Van Riper Stultz III.
Mel is the unmistakable maestro, conducting this orchestra of wonderfully tuned sights and sounds from astride his Harley, shoeless and smiling through his thick, white beard. We owe so much of this to him, along with his hand-selected band of misfits and unusual suspects.
All involved take on their role with eager enthusiasm and each part is integral to the aesthetic and experience of it all. The Emcee, the race official, the announcer, the racers and their crew, the photographers and vendors, even the spectators – each adding an important element to the greater good.
If Mel rules the day, though, it’s Sara that rules the starting line. For as much as we’re here to see the kicking up of the sand and the streaking roar of the race, it’s the dancing drop of the flag that we’ll remember. Sara perfectly exemplifies the dedication to detail and incredible work all this takes to pull off – race after race, and now year after year.
In many ways the great accomplishment of T.R.O.G. is staying meticulously true to its original intent. There’s nothing new to see here. And that’s the point, and precisely why it’s well worth a look.
Follow all the latest from the wild kids of Wildwood at the t.r.o.g. official.
]]>Words and Images: Mike Higgins
When I find Larry Morris he is huddled over his vintage racing motorcycle. He has to squint into the brightness of the early morning light to see me. The sun has cracked the horizon and sends its beaming nudges out across the array of motorcycles assembled, and being assembled, for another big race day at Barber Motorsports Park. Larry’s lopsided grin sends me the only hello I need, but he extends a hand, still clutched around a wrench, to give me a proper, grease smeared fist bump.
The paddock area is waking. Signs of activity come to life throughout. The engines are quiet, but the place is abuzz with nervous energy. A still sleeping giant beckons, its twisting tarmac cutting a black swath through the color of the Alabama autumn just beyond the paddock walls.
Larry hasn’t slept much, having to overhaul the transmission overnight to ready his bike, a ’74 Triumph T100, heavily modified to get everything possible out of its 490cc displacement. He’s still at it, creating a makeshift gasket as he works to reseal the engine cases. I set down my gear and join him, eager to get some insight, or lend a hand if it’ll help.
Vintage racing at this level is very much a DIY experience. Larry has been at this for 3 years now, but by his own admission he’s still learning plenty. An enthusiast, collector and avid rider turned racer, he remembers distinctly the moment he made the decision to trade his Levis for leathers and get serious. Walking through this very same paddock at the time, he told anyone that would listen, “This will be the last time I will ever come to Barber, and not be racing at Barber.”
Founder of New York City Motorcycles, Larry had long since embraced the lifestyle. Having riden for years, and partial to vintage bikes with some racing pedigree, he fesses up to being the guy that had to be the fastest in traffic.
“I was a street rider making some dumb choices, and living to tell about it,” he says, lamenting that he looks back to everything he was doing on a bike before with a bit of disgrace. “How could I think I was so fast if I wasn’t even willing to go to the one place where you can be fast, and prove it?”
Like about everything he does, he went “all in,” skipping track days on his own bikes altogether. He jumped straight to buying the Triumph racer off NYC Norton’s Tim Joyce and showed up at race school. This baptism by fire got Larry quickly into the thick of all of it, and quicker still to some humbling realizations.
He learned immediately that he wasn’t the fastest. He may have even been the slowest when he got lined up on the grid for the first time. And he learned that there is a hell of a lot more to racing than going fast.
With the T-100 back together, Larry slips off his coveralls, the lingering morning chill burning off, and has me help him push the bike down to the inspection station. As we pass the rows of paddocks, each now hurrying through its own version of the morning rush, Larry reveals the biggest realization that he has had since getting out on the track. Now, nearly sixty races behind him, he’s still struck by just how utterly present you are once the flag comes down.
“There’s nothing ever in my life that I’ve done that I was ever as present,” he says, his usual lightheartedness taking a more stoic tone. “It’s the one place I know where there’s isn’t anything but what is at that very moment … and that’s extraordinary.”
He goes on, losing himself a bit as he describes the overpowering sense of hyper awareness he feels on the bike at speed. How there’s no past and no future, only the pure essence of cause and effect, the all-consuming physical presence of what’s right before you – the road surface, the lean angle, the braking, everything up to and including the next turn, but nothing else.
“You’re physically lifting up the atoms yourself,” he says, admittedly getting existential about it all. “It feels like it, anyway.”
The sun has flooded the entire valley by now. The crackle and roar of engines has displaced any semblance of a tranquil countryside. Larry too, has shifted into a different mode. Relaxed and jovial by nature, he’s not without a more serious, surly side, but its matched by a disarming quality that let’s you know it’s good intentioned, and temporary.
A check of the start times and grid assignments seems to strike a sense of urgency in him. We return to his paddock quicker of pace and stricter of purpose than our previous stroll. I gladly take on a new roll of staying out of the way. Short of an extra hand to steady the bike as he wrestles with it, I become an observer.
As much as every nuanced turn of a carb screw or tightening of a clutch linkage is significant, I see Larry dialing in as well. It’s that time. It’s time to tweak the machine, and the mind. Time to recheck the equipment, and the strategy. It’s race time.
Turn nine at Barber is part of a chicane that follows a short straight coming out of what’s known as Museum Corner. It’s a dipping left, followed by an immediate, sharper right. The racing lane between the two bends shrinks to about the length of the Triumph Larry straddles as he shifts his weight to push the bike into the turn. He doesn’t see, and has no memory of the events that pile up against him at this instant. Thousands of miniscule, micro-second happenings. Forces act. Counterforces react. Those atoms lift … and ultimately fall. Larry goes down with them.
Another bike inters his racing line. Trying to overtake, but without the speed or the room necessary, it introduces itself into the physics of that moment. All it takes is a touch. A bump of the handle bar … a wobble … a crash. A disruption to that inviolable present, making it forever a part of Larry’s past, and leaving him to wonder about the future.
He wakes hours later, in the hospital, and in a state of denial about what transpired to put him there. It takes some real convincing from friends and doctors alike before he concedes that he has in fact been in an accident. “Don’t you think I’d know if I crashed?” he questions. The shattered foot that will take surgeries and multiple pins to reconstruct surely works against his morphine-fogged case against reality. “There ain’t been no crash.”
This memory, or lack of it, becomes a point of good spirited joking as he recounts the story from his home in New York weeks later. He reflects on everything with his own brand of realistic optimism. It changed him, of course. It made him take stock of everything he was doing, and all that he hoped to do with racing.
“There comes a time when you ask yourself, is what you’re getting out of it worth what its asking of you,” he says. Admittedly, racing is a hobby for him, a by-product of his love for motorcycles, of the lifestyle, and yes, of the sport of pushing the machines and yourself to the limit. But what is that limit? That’s an individual question. One Larry has had plenty of reason, and suddenly plenty time to contemplate.
For him it’s not about any fear of getting back on the bike. He’s definitely riding again. But will road racing be part of it? He’s already gotten to experience the thrill of victory, and now that clichéd, but far too real agony of defeat. He’s raced all over the country, battling it out with some great people on some great tracks. Must he keep doing it? Again, he returns to that overwhelming sense of presence that he feels on the track, and feels is absolutely paramount to success.
“Whether that presence is now violated by a memory … that I don’t actually have … which could conjure up a fear?” he contemplates. “I don’t know the answer to that.”
Recovering from the physical injury takes time and process, but it’s tangible. Recovering the confidence and the clarity of mind necessary to race is much more abstract. Now, several months into the process Larry feels good about both sides of that recovery. It has really pushed him to make some decisions, and he’s made some changes. In so many ways it seems to have inspired in him a renewed and even intensified desire to go “all in.”
In the months since the crash he’s moved west, to make LA his home base, and to make vintage motorcycles more of a business than a hobby. By the time I catch up with him in in February, he’s slowly eased into riding again, getting comfortable and feeling his way through it all. It’s all going remarkably well for him. Except for the injury itself, he looks back on the past six months as a really wonderful time.
“I experienced things that I couldn’t have if it weren’t for the crash,” he says. “You gotta take what you can from bad things. Otherwise, what was it for?”
He’s been crisscrossing the country in the old Airstream motor home he purchased as well, attending events and getting back in the thick of things. And he plans to continue pointing it, and himself, in whatever direction he chooses – as long as it’s forward.
“That includes getting back on the horse that threw ya,” he says, referring to his determination to not stop at simply riding, but to get back into racing. “What else am I gonna do?” he continues, regaining a touch of his surliness to add with a chuckle, “I sure am not going to sit in the damn bleachers.”
I wouldn’t fault him if he did, but wouldn’t bet against him either. Regardless, it certainly seems that one thing can be said about Larry Morris – he’s never been more present.
Post Script: Larry Morris is set to race his Triumph T-100 in the Sportsman 500 class at this year’s Corsa Motoclassic at Willow Springs International Raceway on April 21. We wish him all the best, and a heartfelt … Godspeed.
Words: Mike Higgins Images: Allan Glanfield
Landing at PDX, I immediately checked my phone, sliding it out of airplane mode. It beeped to life. The gang was on the ground. I was a day late, but finally in Portland. Finally going to see The One Motorcycle Show. If there’s a moto-culture mecca, this is it. A decade ago, a glance through Craigslist, eBay, or your old school local classifieds in search of a cheap “donor” bike to get a build going would yield plenty. The gas to go pick up an old CB or GS that “ran when I garaged it,” might rival the sales price. Those days are gone. And we have the boys at See See Motorcycles in Portland to thank – or blame – for it.
These guys weren’t the first to customize old bikes, of course. That’s been going on since the first engine driving two wheels rolled down an assembly line. But as this moto-culture we know today, the café racer clubs, the bobber bike nights, the braaap packs, etc., started popping up all over the country, The One Moto Show was born. It is far from the “One” show to bring together local builders and their builds. But it can be said that it is the “One” that kick started it all. The whole thing has roared to life from coast to coast since.
But this show certainly has a special aura attached to it. Maybe it’s the misty Portland setting, Mt. Hood stoically perched above, the undulating hills and corresponding twisties spread out below. Perhaps it’s the hearty folk, head to toe in flannel and leather and ink, grinning and gritting their way through the chill of a February that would have me dialing up Úber rather than dialing in my carbs. Or it just might be the food, meat-centric, sauce-centric, eyes-bigger-than-your-stomach-centric, its aromas of smoked pork and chicken and hot from the oven pizzas and hot totties overpowering the grease and dust and exhaust-heavy environment.
No. It’s the bikes. Like the steady crowds that streamed through the enormous reclaimed steel factory space over the three-day event, all kinds are welcome. The collection has a little bit of everything. Purists can drool over perfectly restored examples of vintage, off-the-line perfection. Fabricators can drop jaws and rubberneck to see every fantastic detail of handcrafted, one-off customs that both inspire and dismay with their sheer audacity. Even modernists can get their fix of the latest tech-savvy, moto-gadget electrics, and petrol-be-damned battery powered eclectics. A spin through the expansive, multi-leveled show, every corner filled with something worthy of an IG post, debit card swipe, or at least a second look, left me feeling both overwhelmed and overjoyed.
The weekend was full, to put it plainly. Full of expectations; all met, most exceeded. Full of moments; so many memorable, some unmentionable. But mostly full of friends; plenty old (but aging nicely), plenty new, and even a few old, but renewed, those blasts from past shows and FB chats, and the like. This show definitely brings them all – the who’s who, the enthusiasts, the obsessives, the curious – and mixes it all into a wonderful mess, and mass of moto-junky delight. I’ll need a week or two to recuperate from all the stimulation that See See manages to fit into their show, and their macchiatos.
As I slid onto my JFK flight early Monday morning, happily arranging myself into my exit row bliss, my phone chimed in one last time before take off. The alert didn’t say much. It didn’t have to. Just a thumbs up emoji… and an exclamation point.
Indeed.
Months later, TROG Pismo Beach, CA would be upon us and guess who dropped an email in our inbox? Yup, Mr. Erik Jutras, or @mr_pixelhead as he likes to call himself. Not wanting to miss the inaugural running of TROG WEST and having a few connects in the industry (thank you Sasha of CaferacerXXX), we were fortunate enough to get the highly coveted photographer press pass for E. What follows, in his own words and photos was the outcome. Although the races were cut short due to weather, Erik managed to capture some of the most breath-taking images we've seen thus far and for that we're thankful. Moral of the story: show up, say hi and stay connected. Great things can come from it. - GSCo.
Words and Images: Erik Jutras aka @mr_pixelhead,
From as far back as I can remember, the machines of days past have always intrigued me. As a young teenager, I was fascinated with all things flight, finding inspiration in the sleek design of the warbirds that fought in the skies during WWII - the P-51 Mustang and the P-38 Lightning to name a few. These interests evolved and expanded over the following years into an obsession for speed and vintage aesthetics (I realized that I should have been born in an earlier era). Naturally, classic motorcycles became my new passion.
So, befittingly, the moment I first learned about The Race of Gentlemen I knew I would some day have to make it to the sands, most likely with a vintage camera in hand, donning some old-timey apparel. Disappointingly, I narrowly missed the New Jersey races when visiting family back east, but imagine my excitement when I heard that TROG was taking over the west coast and only a mere 3 hour drive from my home base of San Francisco. I couldn’t buy tickets fast enough.
Finally October rolled around and TROG weekend was upon us. I packed and re-packed all of my camera gear, making sure I had every last lens as I played over in my mind the race scenes I hoped to capture out at Pismo Beach. 20mm wide-angle, 24-70mm, 70-200mm telephoto, prime 50mm, 3 memory cards, extra batteries, medium-format film camera, extra rolls of film, flash, Go-Pro, point and shoot camera, I packed it all. Everything but a poncho...and imagine my disappointment (and a bit of stress) to find out that rain was forecasted for the whole weekend, yes, rain for California. Despite this news I wasn’t going to sweat the details or let anything soak my Pismo-bound buzz.
Equipment in hand, I set off on my road trip south along the coast arriving to Pismo’s shores late Thursday night. When I awoke on Friday morning, there were nothing but sunny blue skies overhead - maybe we all had lucked out and the weather man just blew it once again! I cruised over to the campgrounds at Grover Beach, where TROG was hosting its racers, to check in and get my press pass. I didn't take more than 5 steps into the place before snapping pictures of the scene right and left. At every campsite on the grounds there were either vintage hotrods, trailers, or motorcycles, and sometimes all three. It was almost overwhelming to the senses- sights, sounds and smells. Engines backfired in attempts to ignite, and the air quickly filled with the familiar and comforting smell of rich exhaust and burnt oil fumes.
Everyone was welcoming, jovial and buzzing with laughter. Folks were happy to engage in hearty conversations about the machines they drove or trailered there from near and far. I could tell I was amongst a close-knit community, one where old friends reunited and new friendships were being forged, all over the love of the details of these custom machines. 2 wheels or 4, both were equally admired. An endless array of patinas and hand-painted lettering adorned the paint of countless bike tanks and cars’ sidedoors and hoods. The gorgeous details of exposed hotrod engines gleamed in the sun and the 100 year old residual build up of oil and gasoline on Harley flathead engine cases drew the wonder of those who set their sights on them. I was getting my fill and it was only day 1.
Race Day: As Saturday morning rolled around, unfortunately so did the rain. I MacGyvered up some waterproof camera protection out of some ziplock bags so I could set out for the races and not worry about anything but getting the perfect shot. I threaded my way through the sandy parking lot which was filled to capacity with vintage cars and trucks, and made my way through the large crowds of excited spectators. Finding a good vantage point proved challenging enough as the sidelines were stacked 5 people deep all elbow to elbow. I found my spot and pressed the shutter button to capture the racers starting to come down the road into the pit. They were being instructed by TROG officials on how to handle the angle and speed of the sandy and wet ramp. Many made it through successfully to the unified cheers of the crowd, while others stalled in the foot-deep sand as fellow racers rushed over without hesitation to help push them along.
Conditions weren’t supreme so it took racers a good amount of time to all get to the pit. While the start of the race was delayed an hour, spirits were still high and the crowd cheered on each and every racer coming down the line. Once all the vehicles had all made it into the pit, officials started to close the gates and there was a mad rush of the press to get behind the gate. Luckily I was one of few to make it in and there I was able to capture the racers prepping their rides, hanging out and socializing with each other, and posing for the many other photographers covering the event. Motorcycles were set to race first, the riders began to gratefully pushed their way across wet, hardpacked sand towards the starting line. Crowds formed behind the barriers along the sideline, the entire length of the course.
The sight of renowned riders such as Matt Walksler, “Sushi” Akashi Yasui, Scott Jones, Shinya Kimura and many more all donning their leathers, their vintage wool racing sweaters, linesman boots, and helmets as they sat atop their bikes, along with the sounds of their engines idling in unison stopped me in my tracks. Standing amongst them all in the haze of exhaust smoke and the falling rain, I felt like like I was in the middle of a motorcycle regiment preparing for battle. In that moment, I was grateful to witness such a truly unique experience, one that felt timeless.
As the TROG official motioned to them to advance, the first two riders crept to the start line. I aligned myself behind them, itchy finger on the shutter trigger, as flag girl Sara Francello aka @ratherbeagypsymade her way in front of them carrying her checkered race flag. The west coast inaugural of the Race of Gentlemen was poised to begin! Co-founder of Born Free, Grant Peterson and Elias Klein revved their engines and with the highest of jumps and a kick, Sara dropped the flag signaling the start. The racers let loose two sandy rooster tails as they sped off down the beach.
Wave after wave of alternating hotrod and bike races followed, and I continued to capture the roaring action occurring all around me. As I stood further out on the beach to capture the entire scene, the tide aggressively lapped at my boots several times, and I found myself wondering how long we had until it would inevitably interfere with the races. For now, there was still plenty of action, so I just continued shooting.
Eventually, soaking wet from a heavy downpour, I made my way inside Fin’s, a restaurant located beachside to dry off and edit my pictures. And have a damn beer. I took a pull of from my glass while anxiously plugging in my card reader to see what images I had captured that rainy afternoon. A smile grew on my face with every new image that appeared on my screen. I edited a batch and sent them off to Chris of Godspeed Co for a takeover of CafeRacerXXX’s feed that weekend.
Soon after, the officials called the race an hour early due to the heavy weather and increasing tide. There would be no bonfire and I’m sure to the dismay of thousands, Sunday’s races were called off later on also. Mother nature, the party pooper. The following morning, the sun taunted everyone but the relentless tide reached the barriers where the crowds had once stood covering the entire beach, and the staging area of the pits where over 150 racers had congregated with their machines the day prior, was now underwater.
While it was a short lived event due to the weather, I felt humbled and grateful to have witnessed what I did that Saturday, as I’m sure many others did as well. My thoughts go out to any of the racers who didn’t get the opportunity to race, as many miles were covered in the exodus to Pismo Beach. But at least there’s always next year. Here’s to a great first TROG in the west, and to many more to come.
Many thanks to Sasha at CafeRacerXXXand the guys at Godspeed Co for the opportunity to cover the event, to Mel aka @yeoleghost for dreaming up this amazing Speed laden event, and to all the Gentlemen racers who travelled from all over with their museum worthy machines to partake in the greatest race on earth.
Until the next race,
- Erik
Fast forward two years. The GSCo relocates to Chattanooga, TN unfortunately leaving Sir Higgins to manage the ever-growing NYC DGR. But fortunately for NYC, it couldn't have been left in better hands. As you read Mike's words below and experience the photography of Jason Goodrich keep in mind all this was done out of the kindness and generosity of a few individuals willing do their part in raising awareness and funds for the cause. We applaud Mike and those who have stepped up to aid him in making the DGR NYC one grand spectacle. - GSCo.
Kicking over the motor, my Honda revs to life. It’s early morning, the sunlight pushing through a wisp of clouds that streak an otherwise clear sky. I twist the throttle to wake both the bike and myself. I need coffee, but it’ll have to wait.
As the vintage engine warms, I train my attention to making sure I’m geared up properly for this ride. Running a gloved hand over the lapel of my newly acquired wool Herringbone suit from RRL, I size things up. Waistcoat, dress shirt, pocket square, Chelsea boots … helmet. Standing beside the quiet chatter of the classic motorbike I thumb at my top button, and lean down to adjust the knot of my necktie in the bar end mirror. Better. That’s it. I’m ready.
I first came across the Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride through a random Instagram post a couple years back. Following up on it, I found myself on an extremely agreeable, and unmistakably unique ride through the streets of Manhattan. I was hooked. The event, now in its 5th year, is a worldwide success consisting of throngs of classic motorcycle enthusiasts all eagerly embracing the mantra, “Ride Dapper.” To those ends, I was now pointing my 1967 Honda toward the South Street Seaport to help host the 2016 ride.
Newly polished chrome reflects glimpses of sun peaking through the city’s architecture as I zip through empty streets toward the bottom of the island. This morning, and this ride, has been months in the planning. While I’m proud to be a big part of it, I can take little credit as this event has taken on a life all its own.
Arriving onto the storied cobblestones that make up the oldest streets in the city, I slow the bike to a crawl. The main square, witness to a bit of everything since colonial settlers first called this tip of land home, will serve as a fitting kick-off point for the day’s charity ride to raise funds, heart rates, and as many eyebrows as possible.
I rock the bike up onto its center stand, shutting it down as I pull off my helmet. The open square, empty except for a few tourists, will soon be filled with every sort of classic two-wheeled machine, and an equally diverse congregation of riders.
Playing host to an event that has evolved to include over 55,000 riders participating in upwards of 420 separate rides across the globe is both overwhelming and utterly satisfying. The good it does worldwide for prostate cancer and other men’s health concerns can’t be overstated. For the handful of volunteers that pulled together to organize the NYC ride, it’s a labor of love. Simply being able to have a front row view of the spectacle is reward enough.
The riders roll in. A few at a time began to line up in the square, the Brooklyn Bridge, looming just blocks away. Larger groups arrive, each individual somehow more decked out than the last. Bow ties, ascots, braces, scarves and even stogies play in perfect harmony with the gloves, goggles and helmets you’d expect at a motorcycle rally. The bikes don’t disappoint either. A bit of everything makes this ride unlike any other. All of them – classic café’s, choppers, bobbers, brats, and even side-car models – make up an eclectic, if not eccentric collection of enthusiasts.
By the time I find my small band of fellow organizers to make final preparations, the throngs of meticulously clad men and machines have swelled the final ranks to more than 750, well over the 300 riders of the previous year. Finding my bike and my bearings, I revisit our planned route. In hopes of turning heads and stopping traffic, the ride will send us across the bridge to Brooklyn before setting sights on the green of Central Park, the whirl of Columbus Circle, the bustle of Times Square, and the charm of Washington Square, finally returning to the history of the Seaport for a grand Finale event.
The vast multitudes of dashing motorists are restless, and eager, and looking great. Proudly leading the mob out of the Seaport to get us pointed onto the streets of NYC, I slow to a stop to let things assemble behind me. I use this moment to take it all in.
The planning, the worrying, the snags and the troubleshooting are over. What happens now is up to the riders, to the streets of this great city, and to fate. Leaning into the mirror to make a final adjustment to my necktie, I catch a glimpse of a smile I can’t seem to contain. Finally, it’s time. The Gentleman’s Ride is ready to take on New York.
I twist the throttle.
The Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride, founded in 2012 in Sydney, Australia, is partnered with the Movember Foundation to raise money and awareness for men’s health including prostate cancer and suicide prevention and is sponsored internationally by Triumph Motorcycles and Zenith Watches. The 2016 NYC ride was graciously supported by the Howard Hughes Corporation, the Seaport District, Union Garage, Ducati-Triumph NYC, Proraso USA and proudly hosted by Allister Klingensmith, Chris Lesser, Dave Genat and Michael Higgins, with help from countless volunteers. Thank you to them all.
]]>We’re back at it! Once again making the long 10hr drive from Toronto to Wildwood, NJ. to cover the greatest race on earth for the second year in a row - The Race of Gentlemen.
As always with The Race of Gentlemen (or TROG as it's now known as), you never know what you're gonna see but there were some big changes this year. First, it was held in June instead of October. In previous years, when you’d arrive in Wildwood, it was a complete ghost town. Half of the stores were closed due to the season and the boardwalk and beaches were deserted. It felt as if we had taken over this sleepy little town for the weekend. This year, being in June, Wildwood was just ramping up for the summer season. This definitely helped to increase the attendance of TROG, but that feeling of being part of a “secret meet up” is certainly over.
One of my favorite changes to TROG was the addition of The Wall of DEATH. It’s nothing too crazy, just a guy on an old Indian sitting sidesaddle without using his hands or feet, flying around the inside wall of a 12-foot high wooden barrel. Nothing too crazy at all. This daredevil is Rhett Giordano, and he couldn’t be happier to be doing what he does best. When the Wall of Death comes to town, it’s a must see.
In previous years, there was a lighthearted spirit to the competition. No one seemed to be overly concerned with the wins, but this year was different… Louder, faster, and meaner machines were flying down the beach fighting to be the first past the finish line. This year, the attitude was certainly to win with the racers rolling into TROG with purpose-built bikes made for dominating the sand. It’s a new chapter for The Race of Gentlemen and this is certainly just the beginning. What will roll onto the beach in the years to come? I’m excited to find out.
- Allan, Co-Founder, GSco
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GodSpeedCo. contributor Mike Higgins recently experienced the show at this year's Handbuilt Show in Austin, TX to catch a few words with Oil & Ink curator John Christenson. We hope you enjoy. - GSCo.
Words and Images: Mike Higgins
John Christensen doesn’t like to sit still. It’s against his nature. He needs to keep busy, to keep moving. Maybe that’s why motorcycles speak to him. Riding them, collecting them, planning weekend trips to shows and rallies with similarly afflicted moto-enthusiasts to admire them. So, when a harsh Minnesota winter and a wife in the midst of grad-school studies created a lull in activity, John decided he needed a new project. Motorcycle related, of course.
Channeling his Nordic roots, John holed up against the brutal elements and created the foundation of what would become the Oil & Ink Expo, a traveling gallery of carefully selected art prints. Born of his affection for motorcycle magazines growing up, the Expo really grew from a realization that no one had pulled together a true collection of all the great motorcycle-centric illustrations he was seeing in publications.
“Reading magazines like Side Burn,Moto Heroesand Café Racer, I’d see illustrations, and I was always drawn to them,”John says of the idea’s origin. “I was seeing the same names popping up too, like Maxwell Paternorster, and Lorenzo Eroticolor."
Diving into his pile of magazines and researching the internet as the snows piled up outside, John discovered an entire world of artists with a propensity for two-wheeled adoration. The amount of compelling work was intriguing, but surprisingly, it seemed no one had ever pulled these artists together as a motorcycle themed collection. Not yet, anyway. John determined he’d change that, and started reaching out.
Now in its third year, the Expo has evolved some, but maintains it’s simple, straightforward origins as a collection of artists that simply love to capture their affinity for motorcycle culture. Originally skewed toward “vintage” and with a tendency for a more graphic, bold style, the collection has taken on more diversity, as its third iteration showcased at this year’s Handbuilt Motorcycle Show in Austin. TX.
"I never dictate what the artists deliver, I let them use their creative freedom. The first couple years was really about whether I liked their style,”John says. “For the third year, I thought, how can I make this a little different – bring in a new perspective?”
That different perspective came in the form of a small group of judges, assembled to help in the final selections for the Expo. Along with John the curation process now includes James McBride, editor of the Silodrome, Stacie B. London of Triple Nickel 555 fame, and Bill Phelps, the artist and designer behind Moto Café Brooklyn.
The collective opinions have created a 2016 Expo that showcases a spirited scope of work. A little of everything has found its way into the traveling gallery, from whimsical water colors, to looser graphite illustrations, to a stark gold and black silkscreened printing. Individually, each piece wonderful showcases the artists’ motorcycle muse. Looked at as a whole, the Oil & Ink Expo successfully captures some real depth and breadth, and even manages to evoke an impressive emotional range.
For John, that range and emotion speaks directly to the culture he hopes comes across through the work. “The motorcycle community has been great. Everyone’s been so cool,”he says of the reception the Expo has gotten, both from the artists and the public. “It’s just awesome people, doing stuff they like.”
With the season in full swing, the Oil & Ink Expo has again taken to the road, this time literally. Now hitting the highways with a fully loaded van proudly adorned with the mantra, “Good Art For Good People,” John has expanded his already busy schedule as a freelance photographer to make room for eight stops on the Oil & Ink tour, including upcoming shows in New Hope, PA and Brooklyn, NY.
“I’m not one to sit around on the couch, I guess,”John says. Certainly not, it seems. At least not until the northerly winds kick up and force the eventual shut down of motorcycle getaways, and the shuttering of John’s own garage. Surely he’ll make best use of his down time getting the next evolution of Oil & Ink in the works.
Here’s hoping for another inspiring Minnesota winter.
See all the latest art from Oil & Ink Expo here.
]]>Arriving in Chattanooga, TN we knew not a soul. Exploring the quiet neighborhood streets we came to find to the local speed shop, Honest Charley, and to our surprise, the famous Coker Tire headquarters. Taking to the interwebs, we we’re also pleasantly surprise to discovered a run down Gulf gas station, brought back to life by a husband-wife duo dubbed Speed Deluxe.
Owners Adam and Jamie Sheard couldn’t have been more welcoming. The type of individuals you hope to roll into town and meet. Over the past few weeks we’ve gotten to known them on a personal level and damn, we’re so happy to have found them. More than a physical shop, Speed Deluxe seems to be the beating heart and soul of the motorcycle community. Grab a beer, kick up your feet and nestle in to some serious southern comfort. - GSCo.
Interview and Images: Chris Logsdon
Can you give us some background on Speed Deluxe? How did you land here in Soddy Daisy?
Speed Deluxe: Jamie and I both have an automotive background, I grew up in England and ended up owning a small custom shop there for a few years until I decided to change things up and move to New Zealand in 2006 and then Australia in 2008 where I met Jamie. Jamie is from Illinois and after completing an Automotive degree, worked for GM and Honda in their Technical and Development departments until 2005 when she decided to change things up. She went back to University in Australia, completing 2 more degrees and a PhD. We moved to the US in April 2013 and after traveling around, landed in Chattanooga and shortly after opened Speed Deluxe in October 2013. We service, restore and build custom vintage motorcycles, covering all makes (America, British, Japanese, European). Other than powder coating, chrome and some machine work, everything is completed in house, which was our intent from the start, and with a small retail area, we have essentially a small one stop shop.
SD:Why Soddy Daisy? A question that has been asked many a time especially given my origins! The simple answer is the building we are in, it’s an old gas station from the 40’s and was just what we were looking for, having been on industrial estates before I really didn’t want to go back to that. Soddy Daisy is around 25 minutes north of Chattanooga, and we saw it as a destination for riders; however, this hasn’t quite worked out, and we are excited to announce that we have just signed a lease on an awesome building in downtown Chattanooga.
Situated directly in the middle of Nashville & Atlanta, what can you tell us about the motorcycle scene here in Chattanooga, TN?
SD:The roads within a day’s ride of Chattanooga are arguably up there with some of the best in the US, so it really isn’t that hard to convince people to get on a bike, and that is evident by the amount of bikes you see around, especially in the warmer months. Chattanooga is also bike(r) friendly, holding an event called Nightfall every Friday night throughout the summer months. They shut down a city block for motorcycle parking only and with free live music, food trucks and beer, it’s pretty awesome!
SD: Although it might seem as if Chattanooga is dominated by modern Harley Davidson riders, the vintage and non-domestic custom market is well represented and most definitely growing, especially in the last few years. Because of the surrounding natural landscape, Chattanooga is an outdoors town and has some amazing off road and dualsport riding as well. It feels like this part of the scene is also flourishing especially since we can be on some awesome single track just 15 minutes from downtown!
We found Speed Deluxe after photos surfaced from last year's RelicMoto Vintage show held in downtown Chattanooga. We soon found out Speed Deluxe had a hand in organizing that event. Can you tell us more about it?
SD: In 2012, a Triumph TR6 we were building whilst in Australia was invited to a show in Melbourne called Oil Stained Brain. The show took a similar format to The One Show in Portland, and to me, it was a breath of fresh air that the show scene needed. After attending some more typical style shows here in Tennessee in 2014, Jamie and I started discussing the possibility of creating a small invitational show in Chattanooga. Fast forward to early last year, we decided to focus on creating a few different events to try to build a sense of community within the Southeast vintage motorcycle scene: a screening of Greasy Hands Preachers, the Vintage 1000, and the RelicMoto show. We wanted the RelicMoto vintage motorcycle show to highlight the quality of vintage stock or custom motorcycles that the Southeast has to offer. The Camp House in downtown Chattanooga fit the desired aesthetic, with a beautiful interior and an outdoor patio. The space defined the number of bikes (30), and the response to our request for submissions exceeded our expectations for a show in its first year, with bikes submitted from Georgia, Tennessee, and South Carolina. There were 16 makes, ranging from 1929 to 1980. The People’s Choice award (the only award) went to a 1929 Indian that completed the 2014 Motorcycle Cannonball. We’re looking forward to the next show, which can be found on Instagram (@relicmotovintageshow).
You're currently building for this year's Mexican 1000 in Baja. What moto do you plan on bringing to race?
SD: For me, the NORRA Mexican 1000 is a stepping stone to the SCORE Baja 1000, for which my goal is to finish on a vintage bike. Initially, the idea was to race an early 80’s Honda XL600 but as much as the XL is a great bike, it just didn’t sit right with me. I’ve been racing British bikes and am a huge advocate of them. I’m also probably the biggest fan of the BSA/Triumph 250 single there is. I ran a 250 on the Vintage 1000 and contemplated running one in the Mexican, but as this bike might possibly run the Baja 1000, I just didn’t think it was a good idea.
SD: I had picked up a ’64 BSA A65 project earlier in 2015, and its locked-up engine was calling my name - could this bike handle the eventual goal? I guess we’ll find out. It was missing a bunch of original parts, had a pre unit triumph front end and was generally begging to be made into a desert sled! I’m still in the middle of the build, but so far I’ve changed out that pre unit front end for a Bultaco Betor 35mm type including the 21” front wheel, the internals of which are being upgraded with Racetech Springs and Gold Valve Emulators. The rear suspension is taken care of by a pair of Racetech G3S shocks. I’ve stripped the frame of anything unnecessary and am currently hand making a new bigger aluminum air filter housing and aluminum oil tank. After all the chassis work is complete, I’ll turn my attention to the engine rebuild including a few mild performance mods. The main goal for the engine is reliability.
Last year was the inaugural year of the Vintage 1000, a race along the Trans American Trail that you, Speed Deluxe, gave birth to. We're excited to participate this year but have no idea what to expect. Can you shed some light on what this race entails?
SD: First, it’s great to have you and another British bike on board this year! The Vintage 1000 is really a 5-day 1000 mile vintage (pre 1981) dualsport ride or an adventure, as we like to think of it, but there is a winner, so I guess it’s a race. The winner is in fact determined by the most mileage and/or least breakdowns. Last year’s winner was the only bike that did not have to go on the support trailer at some point in time. The event was born purely out of my own desire to do something like this - the way I work is: I have an idea, I instantly run it by Jamie (who likes most of my stupid ideas), then I put it out into the social media world. I already knew a good friend of mine was in, so even if it was just the two of us, the goal had been achieved. The response was great, but there was definitely some trepidation, and although a lot of people fell by the wayside, we had 7 riders, which turned out to be a great number for the first year. This year, we limited the numbers to 16, and it was booked up within a few weeks!
SD: What you can expect is a fantastic week of riding the Trans America Trail through Tennessee, Mississippi and back in a big loop. The trail is navigated with roll charts (no gps allowed), and this area has a mix of true paved single lane back roads, giving way to more gravel roads and dirt roads as we head west. 200 miles a day seems pretty easy but trust me it’s a full day of riding every day, which will inevitably include a breakdown of some sort, running out of gas and definitely getting lost! Camp life is split between laughing at stories of the day’s ride and working into the night on yours, or if you’re lucky, someone else’s bike. I’m excited just thinking about it!
You mentioned earlier Speed Deluxe is relocating to downtown Chattanooga. Sounds like a big move. What can we expect to see?
SD: It’s a huge move for us, and it wouldn’t be possible without our co-conspirators Silent Cycles and Velo Coffee Roasters. We have been talking about a shared space since the end of last summer, but after the Christmas break we got really serious about finding a building. Finding a location downtown where you can build motorcycles and bicycles whist having a great retail presence, all in a building with its own character, takes some time, but we did it. The new shop is on two levels, the top accessed from Cherokee Blvd and the bottom from a road behind the building. The bottom will house the Speed Deluxe and Silent Cycles core businesses, whilst the top will be a shared space between the three of us but under the Speed Deluxe name.
SD: Built in 1926 from brick and limestone and still retaining its hardwood floors and high pressed steel ceilings, the building is amazing. The top space is still under development, but we want to create a destination where men and women want to come hang out, look at cool moto and bicycle stuff and have the opportunity to buy high-quality, American-made products, a lot of which will be from small manufacturers like yourself. We want to support 2-wheeled adventures, big and small.
Expect monthly events ranging from crawfish boils to tech sessions! The workshop will be open from March 1st, and the top floor will open sometime in early May - check our website and social media for updates.
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Interview and Images: Chris Logsdon
For those who don't already know you, introduce yourself.
SW: I’m Steve West, I have a little company called Silver Piston and I make kick-ass jewelry for people who kick ass. I just finished my first year doing the jewelry full-time. Before that I was a graphic designer who’d worked ad agencies, marketing companies, corporate in-house and freelance contracting.
In the summer of 2009 I started taking jewelry making classes at a local studio. I was wanting to do something creative with my hands that didn’t involve a computer or a client. I took several months of classes and started buying my own tools. I was just doing basic stuff from the beginning jewelry books and loving it. As I learned more, I started adding my own twist to things. After a while I’d had a couple of designs and sold some to co-workers, as well as gave to family.
SW: A couple of years ago I was making a half inch wide band for a friends wedding when I cut out an indian head from a nickel and soldered that onto a ring. It was a very serious holy shit moment. I then spent a few hours looking on Etsy and googling Indian head rings to see if I’d just done something someone else was doing. I couldn’t find anything else like it so the next time I was in the studio I cut out the buffalo and mounted it on a ring. That was the beginning of Silver Piston as it is today.
SW: A few months after that I partnered up with Shane Hunter, an engraver out of Toledo, Ohio. He’s the man behind all the engraving of my stuff. I had posted a picture of a ring I’d made using a hobo nickel I’d bought a couple of years before off eBay. A fellow named, Mark Lee, in the UK said I should look up Shane on eBay to check out his hobos. I put a bid one for $75 max and in 5 hours I was already out bid. So I emailed him about buying some hobos from him. I sent pictures of the indian head ring as well as the hobo ring I’d done and a deal was worked out for me to be able to get them from him. A few months later I sent him a sketch of a helmet on the hobo with the feather sticking out and those were soon being offered. As for the one I was bidding on, it sold for a bit over $200.
You recently took to the road and put an impressive amount of miles underneath you. What was the purpose of that trip?
SW: That was such a great trip. The year before I went to the Brooklyn Invitational for the first time and this year I wanted to ride up to it and to hit the Motorcycle Film Festivalthe following weekend. Buz from Seattle Speedometer and I collaborated on a couple of trophies for the film fest so I just made sense to go to both. Since I was going to have about a week in between the events I rode around New England to see it for the first time since I’d gotten out of the Navy in Rhode Island in 1992. I took the opportunity to meet some people I’d been following on the internet. I had breakfast with Rian from Papa Wolf, checked out the new Choppahead store in E. Freetown, hung out at Walk Siegl’s shop and then spent a few days in Vermont with the crew at Vintage Steele. It was also a good opportunity to take my new camera out and shoot pictures of places I’d never seen before.
Your background is in Advertising/Design. How did you go from that to making jewelry?
SW: I started taking jewelry making classes to do something creative with my hands that didn’t involve a computer. For way too long I’d been trying to do something creative for clients but that just never worked out because at the end of the day, they tend to want to do what they hired you to do and the work either gets watered down or just dismissed. It’s a very frustrating process. With the jewelry, if it’s round, looks like what they saw on my site and it fits, then we’re done.
What’s really been great is taking what I learned from those years in advertising/marketing and applying it to something I make and sell. I love the freedom to say what I want to say or show it the way I want it to be seen without anyone second guessing it. In a way it’s been a nice fuck you to all the people along the way telling me I wasn’t going to make it in advertising because I didn’t understand marketing. Because at the end of the day, I created a cool product that I love and built a brand on the internet using a free photo app on my phone.
Describe the process of making the rings. How long does it take?
SW: That’s a pretty broad question. Some take longer than others and it’s a pretty straight forward process once you understand how it works.
Looking forward to the new year, what other projects are you thinking of tackling?
SW: This year I’m working on a couple of ideas on new ways to do a couple of my rings, I’m also bringing back one of my early rings with some changes. A great thing about doing this, I’m not held down to projections of making numbers or any of that other “business” stuff. I just work with what I’m doing and if I have an idea about something, I pursue it. If I can make it and people like it, cool. If not, meh, move on, it’s not the end of the world as I know it.
This year I’m also going to be offering a wedding band workshop. Couples will be able to come over for the afternoon and make their wedding bands. It’ll be very hands on from start to end with couples leaving with rings they made for their wedding.
SW: I’m also wanting to do some more road trips and hit some of my favorite motorcycle shows. Right now I’m trying to work out riding from the One Moto Show in Portland to Yosemite. I’ve never been there and to see it in winter seems like an amazing way to experience if for the first time. I’d also like to do some riding in Montana and the Dakotas this year because I’ve not seen that part of the country either.
Follow Steve West and his antics on Instagram - @stevewest and support his adventure habit by buying his stuff over at silverpiston.com.
]]>Interview and Images: Chris Logsdon
Let's start with an introduction. Who are you, what do you do, where do you live, what do you ride?
VS: My name is Vassili Shishkin, by day I'm a Financial Manager for an Arts Education Nonprofit in downtown Brooklyn, NY. By night I choose to obsess over motorcycles, bikes, cars and just technology in general, thinking of how I can combine my day and night activities. I reside in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. I was born and raised in Moscow, Russia which I left when I was 13 to get a little taste of Upstate New York - but I've lived all over Brooklyn for the last 15 years. Brooklyn is just getting better and better, especially the last few years with the wave of all the cool Moto-related businesses popping up all over. I ride a 2006 Ducati Monster 620. It's my very first bike and I'm loving it. Please don't tell that to my 4 bicycles collecting dust in the basement. I'm pretty sure they are mad at the little romance between the Duc and myself.
What in the world drove you to making tiny weeny paper motorcycles?
VS: I've been in love with 2-wheeled machines and papercraft my whole life. My dad taught me how to ride a bicycle when I was 5, no training wheels in sight, and I clearly remember the overwhelming and wild feeling of joy the first time I found that balance - pretty much the same feeling every time one hops on a motorcycle and goes for a rip. Figuring out how to build papercraft models of anything, but mostly cars and bikes as a little kid gave me freedom to build any toy I wanted with the most basic of supplies. There is simply no feeling like creating something with your own hands...
VS: Two decades later I was looking around online for a simple bicycle or a motorcycle papercraft model to build and display on top of my computer monitor - so everyone can see how much of a bike nerd I am. All I found were these over-complicated and intense exact replicas with 100's of parts which would require days to complete - so I decided to created my own model - simple and straight forward. Something that can be completed start to finish in one sitting. I wanted the finished model to be small, simple yet detailed, and have as few parts as possible, with all of it fitting on a single sheet of paper. That more or less dictated the size. Then I wanted to see how small I can go and fit a model onto a regular post card. Now, there are many models and sizes available, anywhere from tiny 2.5" long miniatures to almost 2 feet long monsters. (No pun intended, since the large model is based on my Ducati). I basically started by recreating my stable of real life bicycles, my mountain bike, bmx bike, downhill ride, and a staple fixed gear (a must in Williamsburg) - at which point I got my first motorcycle, Ducati Monster and wanted to recreate that- which started a new chapter for Paperbikes - the motorcycle models.
It's seems your paper bikes are inspired by a certain type of motorcycle.
VS: That's right. While I have plans to create a model of every motorcycle type under the sun, the first few models are based on stripped down naked bikes, initially inspired specifically by older and original generation Ducati Monsters. That's the motorcycle I've always been attracted to. My whole life I never wanted just any bike, I wanted a Ducati Monster, with the exposed trellis frame and a round headlight. Starting with my very first bicycle I always tried to remove every single piece that is not needed, that is extra, that is there simply for fashion and no function or added weight - and to me, naked bikes, scramblers, street trackers, brats are the definition of "nothing extra".
What is the process behind laying down such a complex machine like a motorcycle into simple shapes?
VS: I find it very important that the wheelbase length and rake/head-tube angle are spot on and realistic, whether its a motorcycle or a bicycle model. If those dimensions and angles are off, the person looking at it will subconsciously know that something is wrong and it will lose its realistic appeal. Even though these models could be seen almost as basic gist of their real life counterparts I want them to feel like they could function if they were built to full scale. Next, the proportions of the gas tank and the seat are very important, everything has to be in balance. Finally, I want it to be complex yet simple enough where it won't intimidate the builder and they can know right from the start that they can complete the project.
What do want your customers to take away from constructing their own paper bike?
VS: The finished model may appear as a collection of simple shapes, but I want everyone to immediately recognize what kind/type of bike it is and relate to it. I started out with building bicycle models and wanted to create an almost education model - where you are essentially "welding" the frame out of paper. You got your head tube, top tube, down tube, seat tube, seatstays and chainstays, bottom bracket, fork, bars, seat, wheels. All the parts of a real bicycle are there. Same with a motorcycle, although its a bit more simplified with gas tank, engine, swing arm, shock, fork, seat, handlebars, headlight, exhausts, wheels. I want people to zone out in the process of creating with their hands. Taking a flat piece of paper and creating a three dimensional model. Pretending like they are building that badass bike in their garage, just out of paper - that's what I do at least. The best part - you can customize your Paperbike any way you want once you see how its built. All it takes is some card stock, a pencil, scissors and some glue and you can create any mod your heart desires. I want to excite people with creating, the same way I'm excited when coming up with them.
Looking forward, what are the plans for your paper bikes? Where do you see this going?
VS: The plan is to build an extensive variety of models and eventually cover every type and make of 2 wheeled machines, while always keeping the style and feel of what makes Paperbikes unique. A complete collection of sorts. Improving all aspects of creation and production, making the process of building the model just as exciting as enjoying the finished product. Experimenting with other materials and scales. Eventually I want to get into building real motorcycles, and I wholeheartedly plan on creating full size Paperbike motorcycles based on my models, sketches and ideas. The ultimate would be to hop on a Paperbike and ride the damn thing!
Follow Vassili and his PaperBikes on Instagram @paperbikesnyc and on Twitter @paperbikes or order your own Paperbike HERE.
With the Vegas-like neon signs hanging over the motels and diners of the 1950’s Doo-wop era, the old town of Wildwood is the perfect setting for a group of vintage race cars and motorbikes. Making our way across the beach towards the water, it felt as if we were crossing a small desert with a mirage of activity forever lingering in the distance. Maybe we should have worn sandals.
As we approached the entrance, we could hear the rumbling of engines and the intermittent roar of two competitors fighting for the finish line. Inside the grounds, every little detail had been considered and it delivered an experience that was unforgettable. The hand painted sponsor signs of Harley Davidson, Craftsman and Pabst Blue Ribbon, the large circus tents, and wooden watch towers. The Race of Gentlemen was a beautiful homage to an incredible time in automobile and motorcycle history and is now building it’s own place in the history books. With the right camera, you might trick someone in to thinking you just went back in time for the weekend.
All we can say is you should have been there. -GSCo
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We hadn't heard much about his label but when Christian McCann rolled up to discuss the event on his '73 850 Norton Commando and in a slick Vanson leather jacket, we knew it was the start of a great relationship. To be completely transparent, at that time, we were clueless when it came to making a legit, quality mens workshirt. That all change the day we met Christian and it's somewhat serendipitous that we would find him wearing our final product the day we rolled up to his new storefront in Ridgewood, Queens. -GSCo.
Interview and Images: Chris Logsdon
Hard not to notice the Norton sitting at the foot of your door. What's that all about?
CM: Yea it's where I keep my Norton Commando, my last parking spot cost $140 a month so it's pretty much about economics. We aren't trying to showcase some cherry bike that's never riden like so many other stores, thats pretty lame.
What did you do prior to LeftField?
CM: I got into men's clothing back in Philly and was doing a lot of thrifting while on unemployment and ended up with a job at Anthropologie in the final days of free money. It was the first Anthropologie store in Philly. I didn't want to get stuck in retail again so I got in tight with the men's buyer, took over the men's dept and was supposed to come in as a assist but he got fired and I became the assistant to no one. I reported to the President of the company and walked the shows and showrooms with him so it was a really good learning experience in a sink or swim environment. At the time I didn't know the difference between a knit and a woven so I was pretty green. But I had a good eye, so he give me a shot.
Left Field Denim has a distinct aesthetic. From the leather labels on your denim, the drop tags to the embroidery work onyour tees, it seems your drawing inspiration from a certain time period.
CM: Not really. I love Americana and there are so many amazing periods to explore, 50's greaser, 40's workwear, 80's surf, 70's biker... I never wanted to corner myself into some old timey depression era brand, I think there is enough of that and it's way to costumey for me. I spent my childhood going to Antique flea markets in Lahaska, PA. I really loved the detail and craftmanship of antiques and all the weird obsessive people that went with it. When I was buying for Anthropologie I saw so much crap in the market, nothing had integrity or any soul to it, and almost nothing made in America. When I started the line I focused my attention to all the details vintage clothing collectors look for and applied it to Left Field.
People think that starting a company like what you have is 'cool' or that it might be easy because where social media is these days. How would you react to that?
CM: I find a lot of social media pretty disgusting and self absorbed. I think you should use it as a tool when you have put the time into developing something and not using it as a way to create a false identity.
When are we doing a collabo?
CM: What have you got in mind chief?
Stay tuned for this. In the meantime, follow LeftField on Instagram @leftfieldnyc
Words: Mike Higgins. Images: Geoff Barrenger (@Whitelinemotorcycle)
The cobblestones of New York’s City’s South Street Seaport have witnessed more than their share of memorable moments. Revolution comes to mind. But this past weekend saw an event like nothing the historic district has yet to host.
The oldest streets in Manhattan became the backdrop for one of the city’s newest and most intriguing sensations. The Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride is a worldwide organization dedicated to fighting Prostate Cancer by raising awareness and funds, along with more than a few eyebrows. The group is an eclectic collection of avid motorcyclists with a penchant for dapper dress and do-gooding. In the service of all these aims, they descended upon the Seaport on Sunday, September 27th.
A classier gathering of motorcycle and rider you’d be hard pressed to find. Bucking the usual stereotypes of the rough and tumble biker crowd, these Gentleman (and several Ladyfolk) traded the leather and levi’s for tailored tweed, ties and the occasional top hat (when not donning a helmet of course). The bikes too, trended toward the elegant, with beautiful examples ranging from British and European classics and vintage Japanese customs, to modern takes on the streamlined café racer style.
The combination of meticulous man and machine made for a spectacle not common for a Sunday morning at the tip of Manhattan. A similar scene played out on the very same day worldwide, with over 400 rides with upwards of 36,000 riders participating. As engines sparked to life across the globe, hearts raced, and above all else, spirits soared. There’s something about the Gentleman’s Ride that just puts a smile on the face of all who encounter it.
The NYC throngs assembling at the Seaport were joined by a noteworthy bunch from Union Garage in Brooklyn, swelling the final ranks to well over the 350 expected. Setting out on a Manhattan route to turn heads and stop traffic up and down the borough, the roar of the crowd could actually be heard over the engines (true gentlemen indeed). A trip to Lincoln Center and back, with sights set on causing a stir in Times Square, Washington Square, and any Square along the way was the aim.
Returning to the Seaport, the dapper lads and ladies dismounted for a celebratory finale. It seemed a fitting place to reassemble the troops–this historic spot that surely saw Washington climb off his own trusty steed after battle. The manner in which they conducted themselves is equally noble, but for these Distinguished Gentleman’s their uprising is against Prostate Cancer. Considering the totals raised exceeded $2.2 million worldwide ($78K for NYC alone), these rebels are rallying to their cause in great style.
The Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride, founded in 2012 in Sydney, Australia, is sponsored internationally by Triumph Motorcycles. The 2015 NYC ride was graciously supported by the Howard Hughes Corporation, the Seaport Culture District, and Ducati-Triumph NYC.
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Off in a distant corner, like a shepherd overseeing the flock, stood Alex Puls, the shop’s mechanic. An Atlanta native, Alex, as you’ll soon read, found his way here quite serendipitously. A knowledgeable mechanic, a boat enthusiast, a husband and father of two, Alex certainly has his hands full. Sitting inside the garage, he spares a few moments on this sunny Saturday afternoon to chat a bit more about his journey here. - GSCo.
Interview and Images: Chris Logsdon
The 20th Century Cycles garage houses a pretty impressive motorcycle collection. How did this all come about?
AP:The collection, as it exists today, started to form back in 2005 however my boss has been riding for most of his life. He would build up a small collection of bikes and then get rid of a few, then build it up, then get rid of few. The shop was opened in 2010.
How did you come to find Billy?
AP: I was working at a shop in Atlanta called Blue Moon Cycle.It was a BMW dealership that started out as a restoration shop. The owner, John Landstrom, had the foresight to import BMW /2 parts from Germany by the container load when they weren’t really available in the US. I was fortunate in that he allowed me to come work there when I was a teenager. I scrubbed toilets, then did the shipping and parts sales and then I did motorcycle sales. I was never actually a mechanic. I had a real interest in the vintage bikes and would work on the race bikes after hours.
AP:At that time Blue Moon was also a Guzzi dealer. One day in 2000, I answered the phone and on the other end of the line was this guy named Bill. He mentioned he was on a tour headed towards Atlanta and was having problems with his Guzzi. I felt bad for him. Here's this poor guy having to ride a Guzzi across the country on a tour (laughs). Little did I know it was Billy Joel and he was 'on tour' with Elton John and he had a truck full of bikes. So I got him fixed up. We talked. Stayed in touch. Whenever my wife and I would come up here we'd go to dinner. Whenever he would come to Atlanta, we'd go to the show. In early 2009, his lighting designer approached me saying he wanted to get him something nice for his 60th birthday. Initially he thought about getting Billy a Norton Commando, I responded 'Why not a Vincent?'. At the time I was pretty obsessed with Vincents. So I went around and looked at about 10 different bikes and we ended up with that one right there.
(Alex points to the 1952 Vincent Rapide sitting across from us.)
Where did this one come from?
AP: Jim at the TheVincent.comhad purchased it on Craigslist in California, and he was on his way back to Virginia and stopped at a friend of mine's place. My friend knew I was looking and asked Jim if he would sell it. He said 'sure', so a few days later I drove up there, looked at it, gave him cash and drove away with the bike. Someone else had purchased a yellow Ducati 750 Sport for him so I picked up that bike and took it, along with the Vincent, to Chicago where he was playing. We managed to sneak the bikes into the hotel where I showed him how both bikes worked. That's when Billy said 'I have a collection of 30 bikes now, would you want to come and take of them all?'
At that time I was only working on his European bikes, down in Atlanta. Either he would ship bikes down or I would fly up here to New York. There was another guy that owned a great shop called Lighthouse Harley that was doing all the American stuff and another guy that was working on his Japanese bikes. He wanted one guy to do everything and Billy knew I wanted to live in New York.
Why New York?
AP: Just a change. I was born and raised in Atlanta, I wanted to see something different. I'd always envisioned living in the city, like most people. So I came up here and ended up commuting from Atlanta for about a year and half. Billy ended up renting an art gallery in Sag Harbor in 2009 and put about 15 bikes in it. He felt that motorcyclists didn't really have that destination to ride to in New York. Marcus Dairy in Connecticut was gone. There was the Oak Beach Inn on the south shore, but that was mostly a weekend thing that also included cars. He thought that people are looking for a place to go, and I have all these cool bikes, let's give them that place. So he experimented right there in Sag Harbor, and it went really well.
So it went over well with the crowd?
AP: The response was great. We got a ton of press. Mike Seate even came out and did a piece on us. So we started looking for a permanent location. We looked at vacant spaces from Brooklyn to all the way out in Montauk. Eventually we found this spot which was a kid's tumbling studio and had been vacant for a few years. It took us about 6 months to fix it up. Apparently this building also housed the first Ford dealership on Long Island.
Seeing how you primarily worked on European bikes and Billy wanted 'one guy', how did go about learning everything else?
AP: YouTube is a beautiful thing. Luckily I had been in the vintage motorcycle business for 20 years at that point, so I had a pretty good phonebook of people from which I could ask questions. Some of it was also just trying things and if it doesn't work, try it again.
Was there any pressure considering the owner of the bikes?
AP: At first there was but Billy is a really good guy to work for and he understands when things don't work out. Especially because of the fact that a lot of the stuff that we're doing is a bit of an experiment, [he pauses] for instance, we built this bike for Springsteen where we took a California Vintage, a 2009 Moto Guzzi, and we re-bodied it to look like an Eldorado. We did two of them, one for Bruce and one for Billy. You run up against things that sometimes leaves you working for two days straight, like mounts for a rear master cylinder. He understands, because sometimes figuring out solutions to little fabrication problems can be complicated.
How many bikes are in the collection?
AP: About a 100.
And all of them run?
AP: There's 20 of them that I know to always keep running. Those are the go-to bikes he's always going to ride. Then there are the 20 bikes that I never have to touch, like the ones hanging from the ceiling. Then there's the remainder, that are on the ever-evolving priority list.
What's Billy's favorite?
AP: Whatever he's riding that day. Typically Guzzi's, specifically the V7 Classic that we’ve changed the color scheme a few times. I added the luggage to it, new exhaust, a set of bars then another set of bars, then back to the stock bars. It keeps getting re-tailored and fine tuned to suit him. We also bought the Yamaha Bolt when it first came out and did a bunch of work to it. He was riding that all over the place. He's a big fan of the W650s too. The lightweight standards usually fit him pretty well, ergonomically speaking.
Word around town is that you also have a love for boats.
AP:Yes! I always wanted a one. When I first met Billy, I stayed on this pocket freighter that he used to have. It was this 65 foot trawler called ‘Red Head'. That's when I got bit by the boat bug, big time. So I subscribed to Wooden Boat magazine and then moved up here and sold my bikes - my Norton, my Vincent, everything. I then bought an old sail boat and eventually an old downeast picnic boat from the 50’s.
So where do your passions lie now? Boats or Motorcycles?
AP: Definitely boats. The bikes have become work. When I go home I look at boats. I was quite possibly the most enthusiastic, young motorcyclist you could ever imagine. From the time I was three years old I've been involved in motorcycles in some form or fashion, and after a while it just becomes work. I will say this though, I went home to Atlanta recentlybecauseBilly was playing at Philips Arena. It was just for the night so I saw my Mom and drove by my house that I still own, you know, to make sure it hadn't burned down or anything. I noticed this place had opened up in East Atlanta Village called Brother Moto. Are you familiar with it?
Never been but we've been hearing a lot about it.
AP: It's on my street in East Atlanta and when I was living there, man that place, you couldn't look inside it because it was so dark. It originally was an old welding shop. Seriously, you could put a klieg light in there and the darkness would have swallowed it up and they turned it into a space to ours with light retail and a sort of lounge area. It's really cool. Apparently you buy a subscription, you become a member, and you can rent a lift for a day where you can service your own bike. There's someone there that tells you things like not to ground your wrench out while you're touching the positive terminal on your battery, you know, try to keep you somewhat safe. I think, because the whole moto scene got really pretentious and little closed off, that a concept like that, well, got me more excited about motorcycles than anything else I've done in a long time. Seeing that reminds me of what it was like as kid. Not knowing or having a clue as to what I was doing, just being excited to be around it and to learn. To suck it all in. It made me want to move back to Atlanta and be a part of it. They're doing it right. I would have killed to have something like that when I was first getting into bikes.
AP: When you do something for a long time, you start to get that sort of, bitter thing. When I saw what they were doing I thought to myself 'Man that's a really good idea'. It sounds cheesy but it made me want to give back. In seeing what they're doing and forming this community that doesn't have all the attitude, it gave me hope for the motorcycling world. I think it's cool that you get a bunch of young people that want to come in and change their own oil and tires. People start to do things for themselves again.
I think a scene like that, what they're putting together and even what you guys are doing with this Shop Rag Shirt, I think it's really beneficial. Having that sort of grass roots thinking is cool.
Switching gears here, what's an average day like for you?
AP: There is no average day. Some days I'm making dog seat belts for side cars; other days I’m working on a bevel drive Ducati. I have a list of long term projects that are being worked on however I also have to find time to do the little things that pop up such as relocating bikes, dealing with minor service issues, etc.
As far as the long term projects go, from a visual standpoint, he'll take a bike and say 'I want to take this modern bike and make it look like X'. He'll then send me his ideas, some photos and a general theme or historical context that I need to stick to, and then I figure out how to get it execute the ideas.
So not the standard 9 to 5 huh?
AP: I don’t know what that is. When I took this job I was actually considering applying to law school. My father was an attorney and I wanted to grow up and get a real job. I think in the end, I couldn't get a job like that, I wouldn't know what to do.
Do you love what you do?
AP: I do. I love the creativity. I love learning new ways to create something.
Have people ever told you that you have the dream job?
AP: Yes.
How do you react to that?
AP: I'm very very lucky. I've gotten to do some wonderful things, meet certain people, build projects that I would never have the opportunity to ever do and I'm unbelievably grateful for that. But stuff still breaks. You know what I mean? The oil still ends up on the floor and I still have to clean it up. I'm one lucky guy.
Curious for more? Follow Alex Puls on Instagram: @eglicomet
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Interview and Images: Chris Logsdon
TSY has been around digitally for some time now. What made you consider a brick and mortar version of it?
JP: It actually happened quite out of the blue, but not totally by surprise. I have a pretty extensive background in retail development, visual presentation, and branding, having worked for Ralph Lauren, Lilly Pulitzer, J.Hilburn, etc… so it’s forever in my blood. The itch started to surface as I became friends with David Teague and Ginger Hall at America Designs in Lambertville, NJ. I was and am inspired by their ability to create a sense of wonder and discovery, both of them having an incredible eye and business acumen. It got me thinking what it would look like if I were to do my own thing. It was all in my head, just had to find a space that wasn’t an arm and a leg, that spoke to me, and in the right location — someplace with history, a little character, and a pulse.
Downtown New Hope, PA is an interesting scene. Why here?
JP: I love the beauty, history, diversity, and spirit of New Hope, Bucks County, and Lambertville, NJ — it’s sister town across the Delaware. On any day in downtown New Hope you’ll rub shoulders with interesting people from every walk of life. Bikers, bankers, hippies, hedge funders, artists, aristocrats, roofers, rock stars, all coexisting and getting on. My wife Ashley spied that a great old spot seemed to be vacant, and we called on it right away. A couple weeks later, and many anxious moments, the place was ours. From the outside it felt like a rustic, weathered beach shack with a creaky wood plank walkway to wandered around from the sidewalk to the front door, and great big picture windows in front. The inside had soaring white walls, and a great wood beamed ceiling. It felt right, right away. I could see me in this cozy little space. It was plenty crusty and neglected by the prior tenant, but I knew what we could do.
We know you to be a very particular when it comes to style. How do you go about choosing products for the store?
JP: Thanks. I could say the same about you, my friend. With my background I have a pretty 360 view on what it means to be a merchant, and how to be thoughtful about balancing artistry, aspiration, and accessibility when it comes to merchandising and presentation. One thing that was important from the get-go, I wanted to focus on made in America, and locally made as much as possible. So I reached out to people that I know and trust, who do great product.
JP:(cont'd) Iron & Resin is a clothing and accessories brand based out of Ventura, California. It’s made in America, and has a moto/surf vibe that is cool and easy. BillyKirk makes really great bags, leather goods, and accessories, also made in America— a lot of it right here n PA. Founded back in ‘99 by the Bray Brothers, Chris & Kirk. They are great guys, true renaissance men who appreciate quality, design, and integrity in all things. Silver Piston jewelry is very cool, a collab between Hobo Shane and Steve West. Shane carves these insane hobo coins, and Steve crafts them into pendants, rings, lighters, and cuff links. When you show it to someone, and explain all the history, artistry, and craft behind each piece— they are hooked.
JP:(cont'd)The Café Rocker puts a smile on everyone’s face that walks through the door. I mean, who doesn't want a rocker that looks like a mini British café racer? I actually saw a grown man get on it! I wanted to laugh and punch him in the face at the same time! And of course, the Shop Rag Shirt (made in Fall River, Mass.) will always have a special place in my heart. I remember you unveiling your masterpiece through animated hands and cocktail napkin sketches. You were so wide-eyed and pure, I knew it was going to be amazing, and it is. Anyone who works with a shop rag thinks it is the coolest shirt since sliced bread. Myself included.
We're humbled to be represented in your store, thank you for that opportunity JP. You're a man of many collabo's. Working on anything you'd like to share?
JP: A partnership / collab I’m very excited about right now is working with David & Ginger from America Designs on some of the initial design elements of the shop like the blueprint walls, the ’57 Chevy hood— and the amazing curated vintage in the shop. Most of my collabs in the past, like with PRPS and Norman Porter have been selvedge denim. I’d like to continue that, and create a full TSY denim collection, made in the USA, that is accessible and honest. I’d also like to collaborate with friends who are photographers, artists, designers, etc. to create multi-media events and exhibits in the shop. More on that later.
What do you want your followers, now customers, to know about the new TSY shop?
JP: I feel like the unspoken motto for New Hope, and for the shop is— Don’t judge. If there’s a badass ’52 BSA dragbike in the window and vintage leather jackets everywhere (and there is!) it doesn’t mean it’s a shop just for bikers. If you see art and photography on the walls, we are not trying to be a hoity-toity gallery. We love motorcycles, rock ‘n’ roll, style and art. TSY is about inspiring and being inspired. It’s all the cool stuff that fuels us all to create cool shit and live out our dreams to their fullest. This is a store for young and old, all walks of life. You can come in and buy a locally made gift, cool clothes, vintage, or a piece of art or photography of The Race of Gentlemen races in Wildwood, NJ. We want to immerse everyone who comes into the TSY shop with our love for artistry, anarchy, alchemy & authenticity— and hopefully inspire them by being surrounded by all the natural born world shakers that canvas our walls!
See all the latest from The Selvedge Yard here.
]]>With much of his time being spent in the ad world, Mike knows a few things about storytelling. So it came as no surprise when Mike approached us about his own adventure he had in the making. A trip that would take him 4,000 miles from his NYC home to Austin, TX, home to the ever-popular HandBuilt Motorcycle Show. -GSCo.
Words & Images: Michael Higgins
The invitation arrived in one of those old-school brown envelopes with a string-tie closure. Opening it, I had a good idea of its contents, but was still surprised to see it in physical form. A hand-embossed thin slab of leather read, “You are cordially invited to show your work at the Handbuilt Motorcycle Show.”
I was in Austin, TX for the 2014 show, gawking at the custom builds and shiny examples of eye-popping form and heart-pounding function, leaving me totally impressed, inspired and with one over-riding thought, “I want to be part of this.”
Not a professional builder myself, the idea seemed fleeting at best. Now, running my fingers over the letter pressed leather of the invite I was both shocked and beaming. The invite was, of course, not so much for me, as for my bike – a ‘67 Honda CB450 “Black Bomber” I proudly spin through the streets of NYC on daily. It’s the Bomber that is to blame for my slip from rational 40-something professional, to giddy-as-a-school-boy nut that plans weekends around parts shipments and weather forecasts.
I had bikes growing up, but when I spied this particular model, it had a similar effect for me as it did for Honda when it was introduced. I took notice. Never a real threat to the Triumphs, Nortons and BSAs that ruled the 60s, the CB450 was a “game changer,” announcing to the world that Honda could compete.
The Bomber became a hobby turned obsession my dad and I restored from the frame up over a sweltering month back in Kansas. The invite I so proudly clutched was my chance to bring the bike back home for a visit, to show it the country, and show it off to friends and perfect strangers. My levelheaded reaction should have been, “Austin, TX! That’s a 4,000 mile round trip haul – there’s no logical way I can do that.” Instead, I jumped on Google Maps, and then started looking for a truck rental. Logic has no place in matters of the motorbike.
HEADING WEST
I got on the road a few hours behind schedule and in a heavy rain. Slipping into the Holland tunnel to cross the first of what would be fourteen different state lines, I was weary but glad to be underway. The Ford F150 king cab I would call home for the next 10 days was roomy and comfortable, and the Bomber seemed cozy in the back, despite having to be loaded in diagonally to fit in the shortest “full-sized” bed I’ve ever come across. Rain was my major complaint.
I decided I couldn’t be precious about my vintage wheels getting wet, despite the fact that the only shower it’d seen since the restoration came from a hose or soap soaked sponge. It’s a motorcycle, it’s designed to get wet. Plus I planned to labor over it until it was show-ready and fully detailed once it was back in KS. Instead of fretting over the drizzle that would eventually become a driving deluge, I just cued up Pandora and entered Indianapolis into the Google GPS on my iPhone … and drove.
And drove. I was determined to make INDY before calling it a day, and couldn’t wait to get the Pennsylvania Turnpike’s never ending collection of tunnels, turns and spray-inducing tractor-trailers into the rearview. It was nearly midnight before I laid on the horn to announce my departure from the Keystone State, finally. West Virginia quickly became Ohio and fighting fatigue quickly became my main concern. It was time for a proper truck stop intermission.
Flying Jhas to be the best slice-of-life look at middle-America available, and the perfect eye-opener for me. With inventory ranging from jerky to jumper cables my senses were inundated, and reawakened. Gassing up, a ginormous cup of very average coffee balancing on the edge of the truck bed, I checked the tie down straps and wiped at the bike’s rain dappled fenders until the pump announced its readiness for me to get on my way.
My euphoria and caffeine buzz finally wore off. Slipping just past the Indiana border I gave in and turned into a rest stop, another of mid-America’s little gems of humanity. Rolling past the rigs, their cabs aglow with amber parking lights, I found a spot and with a turn of the key shut down. I’d be awakened soon, not by the sun, but by the cold. Firing back up the Ford to get some heat going I saw that I had dozed about 90 minutes. A splash of cold water on my face, and the sight of light breaking to my east was enough to get me back in the mood, and back on the road.
Fueled by a second wind, and an egg sandwich I wrangled from some just off the highway pizza shop turned morning diner, I rolled toward KC, ticking off guideposts along the way; Illinois, the Mississippi, the Gateway Arch, the Missouri. The only thing that kept me from reaching my first official destination by noon was an unplanned and unavoidable side trip into Higginsville, MO. Drawn in by the fact that the town shares my surname, I was determined to procure a novelty t-shirt or trucker hat emblazoned with the moniker. My efforts we’re in vain. Not even a postcard could be found, despite plenty of gear at the local store supporting the Mizzou Tigers, or Kansas City Chiefs. Alas, town founder Harvey Higgins surely wasn’t in it for the coffee mug.
Lawrence, KS was the next stop. And the night’s slumber was about as good as it gets. Waking up to Easter Sunday having shared drinks and conversation with old friends before succumbing to badly needed sleep, I felt emboldened, and eager to experience another nostalgic ride, this time kicking up dust and old memories of my college days. This homecoming of sorts seemed somehow more gratifying and noteworthy astride the CB. Zipping down Lawrence’s Massachusetts Street, I wondered why?
Far from the conquering hero returned aboard his trusty steed, I did feel a certain pride in coasting past the Mom and Pop Shop hold-outs and retail chain pop-ups along the college town’s main strip (a 6 block stretch I’d put up against any in the U.S. for charm and history). Having left this area for the east coast 15 years earlier, it was the fact that a piece of NYC was back with me. A piece of my NYC. And I had the bright orange license plate to prove it.
I’d proudly grown accustomed to the bike being a head turner, but that plate was proving to be a head scratcher. Two questions persisted whenever I pulled up to darken another doorway along memory lane. Is it new? And, did you ride it here? The first, “No, it’s vintage,” linked directly to the second, “No, it’s vintage.”
A sense of belonging to the city increased within me when I brought the newly restored Bomber to the Village. New York is a city of transplants and transients, I among them. Having a bike with a NY registration and a garage had cemented it more as home somehow. And the culture and camaraderie that it had opened up to me among the moto-enthused in the 5 boroughs furthered that sense. I wasn’t just part of vast city, I was part of a group. A group I was eager to explore, and become more immersed in with each ride, rally, or meet up. A group I was traversing ten states to rub greasy elbows with.
GETTING SHOW READY
“I never thought I’d see that back here,” dad said at the site of me backed into his drive to unload on Monday.
I felt the same. It’d been nearly two years since he and I had turned my newly acquired example of classic 1960’s design into a pile of parts and painstakingly labeled zip-lock baggies. Turning her back into the jaw-dropper I dreamed for had taken five weeks of hard days, and a few hard knocks … but we’d done it. We now had three days to get her ready for a show I knew would be filled with eye candy on the sweetest scale. I didn’t expect her to be a stand out among the highly pedigreed company, but I hoped I could at least get her in shape enough to fit in.
Two days of pretty constant rain had left plenty surface rust in tough to polish places. I just started pulling parts. By the time day one was wrapping up she resembled that pile I remembered more and more. What was I thinking? On day two things were going back together, and handsomely so. By the time I turned my efforts toward polishing the aluminum engine cases my grin in their reflection was ear to ear. It had taken far more effort than I expected, but worth it.
The one “handbuilt” feature I was excited to add was a custom leather saddlebag I had designed and had embroidered with the classic Honda Motors wing logo. After a bit of retrofitting to get it to feel part of the bike, rather than an unwieldy appendage, it looked at home tucked behind the air box cover. She was polished and ready for her day in the sun.
Sun for me though, was fleeting. The skies were darkening from the late hour, and another approaching storm front. Dad and I wrapped up day three by collaborating one last time to figure out an exit strategy for my final eight-hour leg to Austin. The thought of driving the show-ready Bomber through anything more than a scattered shower was not desirable. Nor was arriving into the Texas capital at two in the morning. We decided that a pre-dawn departure was the answer. It would let the red and gold band on the Dopler radar clear out, and it’d get me into town at midday, with plenty of time to unload before the deadline. Four A.M. came early.
HANDBUILT BOUND
I’ve stayed up to see the sunrise far more times than I’ve gotten up to see it in the past 20 years. Quietly loading by flashlight and slipping away under cover of darkness felt more like I was stealing the Bomber than heading off triumphantly. Nonetheless, it felt inspired and special. The storms had cleared the skies and left things feeling refreshed. I too had a renewed excitement for the road ahead. Settling into the driver’s seat I winked at the Bomber in the rearview once again, the glint of the streetlights off that signature tank winking back. Next stop, Texas.
Despite hitting the morning rush hour as I pulled through Waco, and getting hit by one short and uneventful shower, I made great time and could make out the Austin skyline by noon, right on schedule. I found The Handbuilt venue at the Fair Market in Austin’s ever popular and bustling south 6th street district. But rather than unloading I chose to make a quick detour first.
Having to resort to Google maps, I finally found myself parked in front of one of the town’s landmarks. Spinning around the block to utilize a high curb or incline that would help me unload on my own, I returned with the bike and my camera to capture an iconic, if not cliché, portrait of the Bomber parked proudly in front of the “Greetings From Austin” mural to mark my official arrival. That triviality accomplished, I raced back to show HQ.
“Hey Mike! You don’t know me, but I’ve been following your progress on Instagram,” echoed through the grand, vaulted space as I wandered back toward the Bomber, still at the top of the ramp. “I’m Alec,” he continued, “So excited you brought the CB, man. I love the old Hondas, and this is one of the great ones. And you’ve done an amazing job with this one, man. What a beauty.”
I thanked him and got the lay of the land, and my marching orders. I was immediately humbled and felt a bit like an impostor. I appreciated my bike’s status as an important model and knew full well the amount of time, energy, work and even skill that had gone into rebuilding her. But some of these bikes were literally built from scratch, each one another example of master workmanship and customization, if not outright design. I was overwhelmed, and in awe. I was tired, dirty, and damn hungry … and Austin is one hell of a good place to be hungry.
SHOW TIME
Opening night was easily three times more crowded than the show I attended a year prior. The setup felt similar but the entire experience had more energy and somehow more legitimacy. More than anything I believe that today’s motorcycle culture, specifically the strand of it on display here, simply caught up with the event. The nod-to-the-past meets DIY-customization has created something unmistakingly old-school, but decidedly modern, and all its own.
Motorcycle riders and enthusiasts are always going to flock to this sort of event, but this show seemed to attract a larger contingent. It’s not a vintage show, with die-hard aficionados debating the nuances between a ’58 and ’59 carb setup. It’s not a modern show, with vendors jockeying to showcase the latest hydraulic swing-arm tech. Yet it has appeals to both those crowds, along with the crew just in it for an excuse to have some artisanal pickles and pulled pork, and enjoy the great entire aesthetic and great vibe.
The show is very much skewed toward European and Japanese makes. The stripped down, simple yet aggressive lines of the 60s lurked in every design. Plenty of wonderful exceptions existed, but the overall feel was way more British Café Racer than American Chopper. An eclectic mix greeted each turn through the maze of iron and steel sculpture on two wheels.
Adding to the overall gestalt were several exhibits and attractions that perfectly complimented the emphasis on moto culture. An inspired collection of limited edition prints wonderfully curated by John Christensen, now in its second, year was a big draw. The Wheel of Deathproved a worthy distraction too. With it’s daredevil appeal, carny showmanship, and death-trap construction, the guys that take this thing around the country certainly raise eyebrows and heart rates with each crazy, g-force inducing spin past cheering crowds. A series of Tintype portraits from Paul d'Orléans served as a wonderful backdrop as well. Hanging stoically along one of the long walls, the current day images captured using a hundred-year-old process felt other-worldly and somehow served as a quiet respite from the louder aspects fighting for your attention.
The Black Bomber held down one corner of the grand affair, and seemed to hold its own. Perched at the end of an aisle, it proved to be a great spot. Watching people pour over my very own contribution was a real thrill, and I quickly let go of any insecurity I felt about its place in this world of moto-madness. This show was about unpretentious, unabashed and unconditional love for the motorbike. I loved my bike, and others seemed to love it as well.
I began to feel a real kinship with the group of builders too. Plenty of them call motorcycle design and fabrication their careers, but several were more from my camp – enthusiasts that let a hobby become a lifestyle. Everyone with some tie to the show had a great story and a truly great bike, none much better than the hometown boys that call Revival home. Wonderful hosts as well, they opened up that home to all of us for one last celebratory gathering when things finally wound down on Sunday evening.
COMING FULL CIRCLE
I took my time getting back to NYC. Far from the mad dash in reverse, I allowed it to be a more leisurely ramble through the less traveled lower Midwest. I chose a few landmarks I wanted to hit – New Orleans, Memphis, Bourbon Country – and let weather and my whims dictate the rest. The ramps went up and Bomber came down every chance I could muster, of course. A quick zip through the French Quarter dodging raindrops was a thrill. A stop in at Sun Studios was a treat. A gorgeous day throttling from one distillery to the next over the undulating bluegrass of Kentucky was a highlight.
The route gave me a chance to see a bit of the country I’ve not had the pleasure of knowing, and the time behind the wheel gave me plenty of reflections on the week, and the accomplishment. Pulling back through the Holland Tunnel to see the entire journey to Handbuilt through to its illogical conclusion, I was both elated and disappointed to be home. The truck’s trip computer told the vital stats – over 4600 miles and nearly 90 hours on the road.
I unloaded the Black Bomber and let it coast down the ramp into my local garage. I gave her a quick dusting off and threw the kickstand into position. Walking away, she looked a little ragged from the trip but no worse for the wear. I too felt the effects of the past ten days. It proved to be a whirlwind. It managed to live up to the expectations I put on it. And it certainly succeeded in furthering my immersion into the bike culture. A culture I feel a stronger connection to now for the experience – a bit less wide-eyed by the hands-on perspective, but no less starry-eyed for it.
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