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Pyramid Head costume I built for a friend of mine. Helmet came out great and can’t wait to hear the reviews from his party this weekend!
More Halloween updates later this weekend!
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Hell and Back
My first “big” trip. I’ve wanted to do it for about as long as I’ve owned my motorcycle. I remember as a boy seeing my uncle’s Harley and talking his ear off about what I would do with it, crazy paint, huge fish pipes, zebra print seats and so on and so on. Well I still don’t own a Harley, but in late 2009 I bought my first bike. Pulled out of a barn a 1982 Kawasaki KZ440 that had seen better days. A deal was struck and it was put in the back of my friend’s truck. I spent the next few months learning how to ride, finding all sorts of engine gremlins, and generally what makes her tick. My only experience with engines until then had been with a handful of lawnmowers. And here lies a separation in bikers: there are those who wrench on their bikes, and those who don’t. Those who don’t can’t always understand those who do. After spending a few hours in the garage I’ve had neighbors pass by and say, “why don’t you just sell that one and buy a newer one?”, it comes like a slap in the face. It’s hard for some people to understand that there’s really some gumption there to be able to take a bike that’s been neglected, mistreated, left to rot, and to bring it back to the road. It’s like reviving the dead. The bike become more of a part of you. Now no doubt my 440 is a rat bike, but it’s got two tires, a tank full of gas, a decent engine, and it’s mine. However that one big ride has always eluded me. Sure there’s the occasional weekend ride just for the sake of putting some miles down, but never that big ride. I missed out on the last two blessing of the bikes in Baldwin for one reason or another. I have a few friends that do a big ride down to Virginia every year. I’ve never been able to go due to work or some other scheduling conflict. A part of me is always held back. I just didn’t feel like my bike was up to snuff. I wasn’t sure if I was up to snuff. I didn’t want to be the one at the back of the pack holding everyone up. Granted on the road you leave no brother behind, but I didn’t want to be the one with the bum bike. As much as I’ve poured into it, I’ve never put my bike to the test, never really put it through it’s paces, and it was time for that to change.
October came.
Dave and I have been friends for years. He loves motorcycles just as much as I do. We’ve spent countless hours working on our bikes, talking about bikes, and devouring every issue of The Horse. Over drinks one night we were talking about big rides. The thrill of putting your bike to the test, putting yourself to the test and feeling the freedom of the road.
“You have to do it man, it’s unbelievable”
“yea I know”
“No. You have to do it.”
“yea Dave, I get it”
“No, not yet you don’t, we’ve got to go out on a ride. You need this”
And that’s all it took. We had joked around before about riding out to Hell and back, but now it was for real. We went with next available weekend which just happened to be October first. What luck! Up until then I had been reading every book on motorcycles I could get my hands on. Everything from the 1%ers (Riding on the Edge: A Motorcycle Outlaw’s Tale - John Hall), riding from the world Fair in New York to the World Fair in San Fransisco on a beat up Harley big twin (The Old Man and the Motorcycle - John J. Newkirk) to the father son bonding over building a rare bike (Big Sid’s Vincati - Matthew Biberman). I wanted my own story, my own journey, my own set of challenges on the road, and now I had my chance. After assuring the wife that we would be careful, ride safely, and return home in one piece we were ready. At least, we thought we were ready. For the past week it had been raining and steadily growing colder. On the day of the ride it was a meager 35 degrees outside and windy. We started the bikes up and put on as many layers as we could and headed to the gas station. We fueled up and got a few comments:”You’re riding in this weather?!” “Where are your windshields?” and so on. All we needed was our two vintage bikes, a full tank of gas and a destination. After a bit of discussion we decided to take the highway route. I originally wanted to take all back roads to stretch the journey out a bit, but it would have required a lot more stops on an unfamiliar route. So the highway it was. The highway. Oh God, can my bike handle this? Dave assured me we could cruise at an easy 60 mph, which I knew the bike could handle so I caved and we headed off. My worst fears realized. Between the cold weather, the head wind, and a lot of advanced physic factors I couldn’t explain my bike just didn’t want to go. Being on a motorcycle that’s struggling to maintain 55 in top gear has a way of cutting you down like you wouldn’t believe. How could she do this to me? After all the work I have done to get her back up and running, countless hours in carb cleaning, adjusting, and doing everything that I could to get her running how could she betray me like this in my greatest hour of biker need? The first seven miles I felt defeated. Getting passed by Semi trucks and kicked around by the wind; i felt like i was taking punches from all sides. I wanted to just pull off and go home. Shame crept up on me, I couldn’t do it, my bike wasn’t up to snuff, I wasn’t up to snuff. No. I had to do this, come Hell or high water, I was going to finish this trip even if I have to push the damn bike there. Somehow sensing my determination the bike obliged. The speedometer crept up and the RPMs stayed steady. We weren’t setting any speed records, but we were moving. My nerves slowly calmed and the adrenaline settled and the cold came charging in. We pulled off after about sixty miles. When I saw that Dave was just as cold as I was my spirits perked up a bit. I knew just as much as I was getting kicked around and chilled to the bone; he was getting the same beating. We were in this together, brothers on the road. We got a few more comments at the gas station that lost their charm in our chilled state. After a cup of hot coffee and letting our joints regain feeling we decided to get back out on the road. with a bit more confidence I was shifting and pushing my bike like never before. Exhilaration kicked in. I couldn’t believe it, I’m really doing it! Which felt like no small feat, Michigan highways are as notoriously unforgiving as it’s weather. Then disaster hit. I noticed my speedometer was jumping all over the place before finally quitting. Not a major breakdown but alarming none-the-less. The miles were peeling back as journeyed on and after another solid hour of riding we pulled off again to warm up and get some food. We noticed a few bikes parked out front of a McDonalds and decided to pull up. I thought we were cold before! We ate as quickly as our shivering bodies could and absorbed as much heat as thermodynamics would allow. We must have sounded drunk as we laughed deliriously as we talked about the ride so far. I fiddled with the speedometer cable and made a mental note to fix it proper when I got it back to the garage. We were close enough to feel a little adventurous to take some back roads. After a few winding back roads we stopped off at my in-laws house who generously offered us coffee and some time to warm up before making the final leg over into Hell. And we finally descended upon it, the Dam Site Inn in downtown Hell. We spent a good bit of time warming our bones and enjoying a well earned beer. No trip is complete without some sort of keepsake so we hit the gift shop as well. On a day like that we had certainly earned the patches we picked up. We spent some time with the locals talking bikes and admiring the 1915 model T that was parked out front. We said our goodbyes and began the journey back. We fueled up and jumped back on the highway. With no speedometer and no odometer it was hard to tell how far we had gone. I didn’t mind, I knew I had ridden all the way to Hell and I had confidence now that the bike was more than capable of making it back. The wind and the cold did everything they could to try and change my mind. We were quickly running out of daylight and to our dismay it was in fact getting colder. So we pulled off for our final stop, tried to warm up as much as we could, and reluctantly put on our full face helmets. We made up for it by finishing off the last 85 miles without another stop. As those miles slowly clicked by i became aware of how sore my back was, all the tension in my shoulders, how stiff my wrists felt and how tired I felt. We were so close and I knew I just had to fight through it. The last few miles were as bitter as they could get. The cold and the exhaustion gnawing away at what nerve and energy I had left. Then we arrived and despite the both of us being nearly frozen we exploded with jubilation. We had done it, we had gone to Hell and back and survived unscathed. 276 miles of bone chilling weather and open road. Now for some this wouldn’t be a “big” trip, but for me it was big enough. I put the bike through it’s paces, and I put myself to the test. I had done what I had set out to do. Something I wasn’t sure I could do. I made it to Hell and back. Even now I still have a huge grin slapped across my face and all I can think about it planning for the next destination and the next trip. Fall is settling in around us and will soon turn to winter. But for bikers in Michigan there’s two seasons, riding and wrenching. I’ll have all winter to work on both of my bikes and plan all sorts of trips for next year.
Special Thanks to Dave my brother on the road, My lovely Wife Emily for supporting me on this trip, and Sherry & Nigel for letting us warm up and giving us some awesome coffee!
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Riding to Hell and back today! figures that the first day of October is the coldest fall day we’ve had so far! Aside from the cold I’m pretty excited, we’ve been talking about doing this run since last year. Should be an awesome way to kick off the halloween season!
Updates later tonight!
I’m Still Here!
Been very busy lately between work, vacation, birthday and otherwise! Got to do some tattoo work recently but I had left my camera behind so no pictures to update. I put in a large order for more ink and a few other fun things and it should be here later today. I need to start putting all of my work together in a portfolio, same goes for my craft stuff. I’ve been tossing around the idea of making an etsy account and sell off some of my crafty stuff.
No major motorcycle updates…I’m waiting on some custom parts that I’ll update later with pics. I still need to setup my MMST for my cycle endorsement, I need to clean up the apt, I’ve got a dozen or so projects to do, I need to get some work done on my car
A lot to do still and fall is coming fast!
birthday cake? F that! Birthday Pumpkin pie and Sam Adams Octoberfest? HELL YEA!
Lvl Up!
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New ink! I added a few leaves to the rose to help balance it out. Color to come soon…
Trying to stretch the skin on the calf going up into the knee led to a few awkward positions. I had to take a few breaks since my leg kept falling asleep
artwork original by me and tattooed by me
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So part of my weekend plans was to get a haircut. Not just any haircut…I wanted my signature mohawk. Normally I would do it myself but I wanted it to be nice and clean, not to mention i wanted a littler wider than usual. Off to Great Clips I went and told the lady what I wanted. Nothing fancy, I said I wanted a mohawk, showed how wide, and said I wanted a little bit of a fade. Apparently that meant I wanted a high and tight. She started with the back of my head and before I could even utter a protest she had already shaved off the back and one of the sides. Now it may have been an honest mistake but it just seems like that was really not the case. At least she left the top long so I can faux it up, but it’s just not the same to me.
Yes I’m an adult, yes I want a mohawk, no I didn’t mean just do as you please.
It’s not necessarily a bad haircut, but dammit it’s not what I asked for. My drivers license picture is of me with a mohawk, and I wanted to continue that tradition. Not to mention I look damn good in a mohawk.
Not a whole lot of updates…been too busy with other stuffs. But as of today a nice lazy sunday, gonna get some work done on my car later. Right now it’s back to the collection of 60’s and 70’s biker flicks I found on netflix!
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One of my friends has a metal band called Zombie Supermodel. I thought to myself it would be awesome to do a zombied out supermodel figurine. I haven’t done a whole lot of modelling work….or any at all….but hey it sounded like fun!
So started out with a Barbie and picked up my xacto knife and grabbed some sculptey. I’ve seen a few others do this project before but it seemed a little overdone, so I’m trying to keep it subtle. Half her face missing seems subtle to me….but it needs to be pretty balanced. Yes she’s a zombie, but she’s still a supermodel! Some of the face will be rebuilt up with some glue gun magic, same with her nub arm. Her dress may get some battle damage, but nothing too drastic. The stand will get modified with some background elements and the bands logo. Some paint and a little gore effects and it’ll be complete!
updates when work continues….
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