gotta love riding with a couple buds.
gotta love riding with a couple buds.
Words and photos by Timmy Marr
What can you say about The El Diablo Run that hasn’t already been said? It’s the fabled, lawless chopper party south of the border that seems to be on everyone’s bucket list. It’s a weekend full bikes, booze, and debauchery in the small Baja town of San Felipe. If you missed it, you can’t go next year because it only happens every two years. Being a bi-annual event definitely helps keep the kook level low. Or perhaps the two year waiting period is only in place to add anticipation. One thing is for sure: it’s definitely the most fun you can have in Mexico on two wheels.
The EDR 2017 schedule looked a little something like this: Thursday May 11th was the pre-party at Old Rose Tattoo in Temecula, California. Its tradition to get a $20 flash tattoo to commemorate your Mexican adventure. Friday May 12th was the 300 mile group ride from Temecula to San Felipe. The group started out huge with well over 100 bikes in the pack. It eventually got thinner and broken up as people got over riding in a pack or just needed to stop more often for gas. Saturday May 13th and Sunday May 14th (Mother’s Day) were when The Circle of Death and the Cocktagon beach brawl took place. The Circle of Death is a dirt track race in a sketchy empty lot. And the Cocktagon is a last man standing fight to the death where contestants buy a wiffle ball bat for $10 and either beat each other into submission or try to push each other out of the ring. Winner takes the pot. Monday May 15th was the day everyone was supposed to ride back home. That was just a suggestion though. A lot of SoCal locals went home Sunday because they had to work the next day, and some people stayed in Mexico indefinitely.
I rode out to California solo from Kansas and took my sweet time doing it. I rolled into my friends’ house in Temecula late on Thursday and missed out on the official pre-party. Getting a tattoo right before I’m about to swim in the ocean didn’t sound very appealing anyways.
The group ride out of Temecula was awesome. It was a brisk 50-something degrees when we set off at 7am. The journey started with these gently curving roads that dumped out into awesome valleys surrounded by lovely green hills. After that, we rode through different desert landscapes for pretty much the entire rest of the journey. But it was like cool desert, you know? The first desert was really rocky and mountainous and the temperature was not bad at all. As we got closer to the Mexico border, it got hotter and flatter, and sandier.
We crossed the border in big packs of bikes and the guards wanted nothing to do with us and just waived us all through. As soon as you cross the border, it gets real Mexico real quick. All the cars, street signs, and buildings are totally different. It was kind of a culture shock for me because I had never driven into another country like that before. The landscape soon turned to wide open desert with a few red mountains. The road all the way to San Felipe was in surprisingly good shape. No potholes or poor repairs. Just a nice desolate road that seemingly went nowhere. Eventually, to our left we could start to see the ocean, and soon after, we came up on real civilization for pretty much the first time since crossing the border. The town of San Felipe.
The vibe on the EDR was a little different this year from years past. People were encouraged to make their own plans and just meet in Mexico. Two full days in San Felipe gave people the freedom and extra time to do whatever they wanted to. You could explore the town and absorb the culture, you could hit up the natural hot springs 60 miles south of town, or you can just float around in the ocean nursing your hangover until you’re ready to do it all over again.
The first day there was awesome. I can’t even describe how wild it is to see your friends from all over, together on the beach in Mexico. I ended up getting sloshed hard on Friday night thanks to my friend Zac from Oklahoma who just kept the Tecate’s comin. I paid for it the next morning when I was puking every 10 minutes but it was worth it.
Saturday I mostly just relaxed in the ocean and chit chatted with my fellow chopper greaseballs. A lot of my friends went to the hot springs 60 miles south of town and came back with horror stories of potholes that they will cherish forever. A few Circle of death races went on that day as well.
Sunday we got up and went to town to take pictures with the San Felipe sign, then got ripped off a tube being pulled behind a boat by Mr. Banana himself. The circle of death races finished up and the cocktagon ended in a truce when the two remaining gladiators hugged it out. We went to bed early in preparation for the journey back to the states the next day.
Monday morning it was surprisingly chilly and windy. I rode up with a totally different group of people I rode down with and it was great. No major breakdowns, no bad attitudes. We got a police escort to the border and passed through with flying colors. We were glad to be back in our home country where we can drink the water and use our cellphones.
The El Diablo Run is the freaky granddaddy of all chopper runs. Everyone comes back from Mexico with plenty of wonky stories, and everyone seems to be all smiles all the time. Even when you are spewing black liquid out of both ends from Montezuma’s Revenge, you leave the bathroom and enter paradise and it’s hard not to be stoked.
See ya’ll in 2019! Maybe not. Who knows, man. That’s a long ways away.
Words and photos by Timmy Marr (@SkidMarr)
The Giddy Up Vintage Chopper Show takes place every year towards the end of March in New Braunfels, Texas. In my opinion, it’s in the perfect location, at the perfect venue, during the perfect time of year.
2 days before the show
Myself, my brother Tyler, and our friend Kelly (who rode an extra 180 miles to get to us) set off to ride 300 miles from Wichita, Kansas to Denton, Texas at 6:00pm. We were riding into a 25+mph headwind the whole way south and the enormous trunk that I put on my bike was like a parachute. But we made it to my friend Blake’s house around 1am and crashed for the night.
1 day before the show
We got up and prepared to make the hour long trek in scattered showers from Denton, to Weatherford, Texas to meet up with the man, Danger Dan. Those of us that had rain gear, put it on. And those of us that didn’t, hardened the fuck up.
Myself, Tyler and Kelly from Kansas, Scotty and Blake from Texas, and Anthony from San Diego all met up in Weatherford at Dan’s house just in time for it to stop raining. Now the fun could begin. The sun was shining, and I could finally bust out my camera.
We were rolling 7 deep and took backroads all the way to New Braunfels and stopped probably every 40 miles. It was a beautiful change of pace and scenery for us Kansas boys considering we spent all day yesterday jamming down Interstate 35 at night.
We made a gas and oil stop in the small town of Hico when our very own Gabe @loudngreasy cruised right by! He stopped and gave me a hug and hauled ass out of there to catch up with his group.
We chugged along and made our way to Spicewood, Tx. Home of Dan Carr of DC Choppers. There we met Josh Kurpius, famous photographer and chopper pilot who ended up rolling with us for the remaining 60 miles to the Giddy Up Pre-Party at the Harley dealership in New Braunfels.
We hung around the pre-party for a few hours. Drank some beers, caught up with friends and listened to the bands. Then we went back to the campsite where the real pre-party goes on. Friday night at the campsite was spent eating canned food cooked on a fire, drinking beer, and wandering from campsite to campsite making new friends. Oh and I gave a few trunk rides.
The day of The Show
My brother and I got up and cruised down river road just to scope out some of the local sights. Then we headed into the show around 11am.
Giddy Up is definitely my favorite “big” chopper event of the year. The River Road Ice House is the perfect venue equipped with a stage and all the show bikes up front with a dirt lot full of vendors and bikes out back. The campground is in the perfect spot right down River Road along the Guadalupe River. It’s in the early spring, so it’s like the perfect shakedown run for people who have been cobbling together their rickety choppers all winter. And the vibe is like, perfectly chill, dude. It sounds dumb, but chill is the best word to describe it. This year the show went from 10am – 8pm so you could show up whenever you like, look at bikes, shop in the vendor area, leave, rip down to the campsite to take a nap, then come back and drink some Lone Star Beer.
The official after-party takes place at the campground. I don’t have any photographic evidence of this night, but it was a romp and a rave and a hootenanny all rolled into one. Trust.
1 day after the show
We woke up, drank some water, and hit the road hard. We rode all 600 miles home that day in under 12 hours with the wind to our backs this time. We ran into a pretty nasty storm in the last 60 miles and took some pea size hail at 80mph, but that just makes for a better story.
I’ve said this once and I’ll say it again: Every weekend I spend in Texas feels like the best weekend of my life. Giddy Up 2017 was no exception.
words and photos by Cantina Fly, Luke Taylor..
The Kernville Kampout this year was epic fun. I didn’t have the Triumph locked in enough to make the ride for the first one last year. So this year, with phase one complete on Echo3, I planned on Kernville before they even announced the date. I made plans early and had some friends planning to go with.
The day before we were set to leave, my last friend canceled and said he had to work. So it was a solo mission for the ride. I waited until 11:00am Friday to see if he could get off work, and finally hit the road.
I made a gas stop and was on the 395 2 hours later. The solo ride across the desert was awesome. The whole ride was awesome actually, particularly the 178. Sometimes I feel like I’m riding through a painting on roads like that. Lots of twisties and smooth pavement.
When I pulled into Kernville I immediately saw what a beautiful town it was. It’s a rad little town tucked in between the mountains. I found camp and met Sean (@Pig) . The campsite we had was right on the river. Prime real estate for the weekend. I set up my tent a few yards from the river, and we went up to have some free beers. I had a couple and went to the store for food/supplies (beer).
It was dinner time so we met up with Jon (@ThebeardedGringo) and went up to the brewery. We met all his crew and enjoyed a meal like old friends. I was stoked to find myself at a table full of chopper friends after leaving the house by myself earlier that day. #vivalacantina for that one.
Saturday morning I woke to the sound of the river and an amazing view. I set up my camp stove but it wouldn’t light. I tore it apart and everything was fine. It was bad (old) fuel cans. Sean offered to get some new fuel cans, he ran up to the store, and I spilt all my food 50/50 with him from there out. We cooked up a hearty breakfast, and admired our teamwork.
We lounged around and talked bikes with our neighbors while breakfast digested. Around noon, Sean, John and myself went for a ride along the Kern river, up to the giant redwoods. The road was rough in spots but the curves and scenery more than made up for it.
We found the “trail of a thousand giants”, paid $5 to park, and walked the trail. It was worth the $5. I was completely blown away by these trees. Its incredible. Sean was so excited he climbed inside this tree-vagina. I took pictures like a Japanese tourist, but hey, I was touring.
It was getting chilly, and I headed back to camp. The sun was shining on the other side of the mountain, so I took my time and checked out the river. Next year I’ll have a fly reel with me.
Back at camp everyone gathered by the bikes, booze, and band. I wanted to put my bike up near the show area, so I fired her up and let her warm. I then proceeded to lay down some dirt antics I have no visual proof of, so I will go in to no further detail. But it was rad!!! #trustme
Saturday night was a blast, talked to a bunch of cool people and had a great time.
I have no specifics on the awards (again, free rum and beer) but I can tell you there was some noteworthy choppers. Most notably a Denver’s Choppers barn find. Completely original and immaculate. I didn’t run into the guy, but the hearsay was the neighbor lady had it her garage for years and sold it to him for $1,700!! Props to him for riding it there!
My personal pick was this flathead with the twin top tubes and split tanks. The chrome frame and paint was perfect. Don’t know who to credit for it, but excellent work!
The whole party was a cool vibe, just people stoked on bikes, laughing, and having fun. It was a pretty smalI crowd and I got a lot of positive feedback on my bike which was cool. There’s no party like a chopper party!
We made it back to camp thanks to the light of the blood moon, and I think it was midnight when Sean and I cut up the sirloin, onions, and jalapeños I got at the store. Cooking fajitas was the greatest idea ever. We scarfed some tacos, and marveled at the performance of my tiny camp stove.
Sunday morning everyone was breaking camp as they woke up. Sean and I broke down camp and reflected on an awesome weekend. I splashed my face in the river, and loaded up my bike.
Said goodbyes to all my chopper friends as they rode out. I waited a while for the sun to rise some more, and took off, happy I had already gassed up.
The bike was running super happy on the crisp cool air. I stopped to piss, and while it was running, quickly took what is probably my favorite picture of my bike so far.
Inyokern was my first gas stop and I had a cheeseburger and coke at Classic Burger. That place is crazy good you should eat there. I had a text from my friend that he would meet me in Kranmer junction, and ride the second half home with me. I rode a very windy hour on the 395, met at the gas station and got fuel. We cruised down I15, until this shit happened.
Luckily I was only 50 miles from home. I slapped some zip ties on it and rode to the next gas station. With the bike gassed up again, I got cozy in a parking space to evaluate. I put one more zip tie on it and decided it was as good as it was going to get. I rode the the rest of the way just cruising at 60mph. Thank God I run a front brake!
I always love pulling onto the driveway after a trip. The sense of victory this time was even better. What an awesome run to wrap up a season of riding on a fresh build.
Thanks to Biltwell and the sponsors for a rad event and an epic weekend, much appreciated.
Now do yourselves a favor and get to Kernville next year. I’ll see you there.
My favorite weekend in Florida, the Tar Ball Run. A gathering of builders and riders alike, Odd ball machines typically built in garages, coming out for a weekend of riding and talking shit.
I’d been watching it all go down through the internet as the first three years went down. I was working so close even, just couldn’t get the time off. After a change in jobs I found myself living in Orlando with weekends off. No one I knew wanted to go so I said fuck it and left solo. It forever changed me, not sure for the best, but I came out of the woods that weekend knowing my dreams were indeed fucked. Id make no money doing what I loved, but Id be rich in stinky drunk friends.
Now on its 7th year, the boys brought it back to its origins down in the Everglades. A swamp that covers a majority of the southern tip of Florida and home to some unspeakable shit. Notably mosquitoes that’ll take your ass away if you’re not careful and panthers. Ask Brooklyn Sal, the dude saw panthers non stop, I heard.
Words and Photos by: Timmy Marr
The Lone Star River Run takes place in New Braunfels, Texas at Camp Huaco Springs (same place as The Giddy Up Vintage Chopper Show) every 3rd weekend in October. The LSRR is in its 7th year and has no big sponsors or other BS. It’s just a good ol’ fashioned weekend full of ridin’, campin’, and beer drinkin’ (preferably Lone Star Beer). My friends from Oklahoma known as the “Oklahomies” go to this run every year. This year they decided to trailer their bikes down to make the nearly 600 mile trek extra speedy. They had an extra spot on their trailer and in their truck and thought I was worthy of their presence, so I took the opportunity and tagged along.
On the drive down, my bike fell over on the trailer and put a dent in another bikes gas tank. I’m really not good at the whole trailering thing. But we arrived at the campsite on Friday much faster and more dry than we would have been if we rode. As soon as we pulled in to the campground, I immediately got the sense that this is more of a family reunion than a Chopper run. Probably 90% of the people there have attended in years past. And everyone was a Texan except for maybe like 6 of us. The first night was spent setting up camp, catching up with old friends and meeting new ones while talking choppers under a full moon.
Saturday morning we all got up around 9:00am and naturally split into groups to ride into town for some Tex-Mex breakfast. We got back to camp at 11:00am just in time for the group ride to depart along River Road, headed towards the town of Blanco for lunch. The weather was perfect and the pace was ideal. We were riding in a pack of 50+/- bikes comfortably cruising the back roads around 55mph.
After our lunch in Blanco, we rode down some beautiful gently curving empty roads headed towards Luckenbach, Texas. We spent our time in Luckenbach in the shade drinking a few beers, taking a few naps, and poking fun at the group of big wheel baggers that rolled in. After we were rested and refueled, most people went back to the campsite while a small group of us rode on to another bar.
A delicious handmade dinner was served that night at the campsite while a live band played along the perfectly still river. After everyone ate, a heated game of Cee-Lo broke out on the tables. Dice were being shook so fast and dollar bills were exchanging hands so quickly I didn’t dare to participate. After that, some people went to bed broke, and some stayed up and partied. I didn’t take any photos that night. Too busy livin it.
The next morning, we packed up and loaded our bikes on the trailer while getting teased by everyone. We hugged all our old and new friends goodbye and hit the road back home. Every weekend I spend in Texas feels like the best weekend of my life. The Lone Star River Run was no exception.
Southbound and Down 2016.
The third year running, SB&D hosted a show at The Boardr skatepark in Tampa, Fl. People trucked, trailered and road in from all over. With the fall weather finally breaking the day before, Floridians were able to break out the flannels and enjoy themselves for a day of choppers and fun.
Eric of FNA custom cycles out of lakeland brought out a couple of his mad creations, here is the Three In The Stink, a rad mag fired two stroke triple.
Dagner just finished this beast of a sporty up and had it on display along with his pipe company, Dagner pipes. Later in the day found him ripping wheelies on it looking like a boss.
I shoot photos with a go pro, unfortunatley this Larry pierce built dream machine did not transfer as well in the low light, but was able to get this one showing off a rad placed swazi. The more I looked at this machine, the more I loved it. A truly amazing build.
Wes from Riders on the Norm was there with his buddy John, who brought this beautiful cone.
Im not sure who killed it more, Drew with the build or Bryson with the paint but both of these dudes nailed it and are representing Florida very well.
Best garage built winner was Arthur and his wild Triumph.
The last of the go pro battery was spent trying to capture the maniacs out front ripping burnouts and wheelies. Look up the hashtags and see for yourself, you’ll be glad you did.
After helping a buddy load up and recharging, I met up with buddies Dallas and Erm. They happened to have a pile of great people with em to ride to the after party at The rivers edge just south of Tampa. A highlight to a great day.
Miss Mandoozle got to ride in her first real group ride and killed it. Still on her about covering up them ankles though.
Blocking traffic for the group made life with this many riders so easy as we road into downtown Ybor.
Sean is from Baltimore…clearly we are all cold weather pussies as he didnt flinch riding in a tshirt while us Floridians were excited to finally be able to cover up after a long and hot summer.
Its days like these that make all the lonely garage time working the bugs out of builds all worth it. Too much fun with too many good people to worry about the too cool to say hi types. Come down to Florida next year and enjoy it for yourselves.
Daytona and their bike weeks have been described as trailer week and for good reason. A majority of attendees are not your dedicated “bikers” but more your office workers by day, leather wearing walking billboards by night. If you think that’s all Daytona is, good, stay home. For us in the know, there is plenty to do and enjoy.
Number one on the list for me would be Willies Tropical Tattoo and their event dubbed “chopper time.” This year though, a hurricane ripped through days before causing havoc to most of the east coast almost canceling Biketober fest and all that comes with it. Willie and his crew worked extra hard and it showed. Hell, the famous yellow sign out front was destroyed and became a yellow banner made just days before. Roadside Marty was also in attendance abusively embracing the crowd surrounding “the real bikes of Daytona.” His shit talking is definitely a high light of the show.
You all get the point, so here’s the few pictures I grabbed walking around enjoying the scenery:
Photos and words by: Timmy Marr (@SkidMarr)
The Gabe’s Ride Out is a Ride/Camp event thrown by our very own @Loudngreasy in North central Texas. I knew about this event from this forum and I decided I had to go since it was only 400 miles away.
Friday August 26th, I got home from work at 4:00pm and packed all my shit into the enormous, stupid trunk on my bike. It only took about 15 minutes because I purposely didn’t unpack from my Sturgis trip 2 weeks earlier. 6 hours and 300 miles later, I rolled into Denton, Texas to see my good friends and shack up for the night.
Saturday August 27th, I rolled out of Denton at 7:00am because I still had to ride 100 miles west to the meet up point. The “ride” portion of Gabe’s Ride Out was scheduled to leave the “Rockin’ S Bar and Grill” at 9:00am. It was a foggy, cool morning with no traffic. The lame scenery of the DFW metropolis started to give way to the hills of scrub trees and cacti known as West Texas. I was jamming 80mph down a paved whoop-section on a farm road when I almost hit a weird baby pheasant that I later learned was actually a Road Runner. I got to the “Rockin’ S Bar and Grill” on Possum Kingdom Lake at 9:05am. No one was there and the place wasn’t even open. I thought to myself “Damn these dudes are punctual! They left without me!” I called Gabe and he informed me that there’s actually 2 locations of this bar and Google lead me to the wrong one. So I had to rip 30 minutes back into the town of Graham. No big deal.
Once I got to the correct location, I parked my bike with all the rest and walked inside excited to meet all these guys I had only talked to/seen on the internet. Its wild meeting people from the internet for the first time in real life because you probably already know a ton about their lives. Todd (@Wagonburner), Josh (@Ramzy) Larry (@BackPorchChoppers) and Dillon (@Fatkat) all rolled in late because they pre-partied a little too hard the night before. I felt totally comfortable with everyone and my skepticism’s about riding and hanging out with total strangers all weekend melted away. We ate breakfast and ended up rolling out of Graham closer to 10:30am.
The ride started out as a nice highway cruise through some west Texas scenery until we got to the Palo Pinto Creek Reservoir. The road around this lake was steep, narrow, and neat with plenty of sharp curves, BUT it had the worst surface texture of any road I have ever ridden. Literally pot holes on top of concrete patch jobs on top of asphalt speed bumps. Everything in my trunk was constantly being tossed up against the lid with a loud “thunk”. It almost made me regret owning a rigid chopper. I wish I had pictures to document this road, but I was too focused on not dying. It was radical.
The road soon smoothed out but the damage was already done. Josh’s Sportster he rode trouble free all the way from Virginia started to backfire and eventually died. I offered up my tools and we sat on the side of the road and scratched our heads until the ignition module cooled off and started working again. As we were leaving, another evo sporty belonging to the man named Sam wouldn’t start. His rectifier was dangling ungrounded to the frame so it wasn’t charging his battery. I hooked him up with some spare bolts and his brother gave him a push start and all was well.
We rode in a light mist of rain to a neat little honky tonk bar and drank until the rain let up. Then, we rode to Strawn, Texas to eat some world famous chicken fried steak served with huge bowls of gravy for the whole table to slather onto their food as they please (#TableGravy). After the legendary Steve chugged his fair share of gravy though a straw, we hit the road with full bellies headed toward the official bar of the Gabe’s Ride Out, the “Prickly Patch”. The Prickly Patch was 60 miles away on a terribly wavy paved state highway. I hit a JUMP in the road at 65mph that launched my bike and I an entire foot into the air (Todd can confirm the altitude and I can confirm it was terrifying). Shortly after that, my kickstand fell off nearly killing everyone riding behind me. Josh was kind enough to retrieve it for me after a car ran it over and flung it into the air. We got maybe 12 more miles down the road when Ol’ Backfire Josh’s bike started to crap out for the second time. Two guys hung back with him on the side of the road while the rest of us went ahead to the bar to get beer….. and a truck for Josh’s rescue. We spent a couple hours and had a great time in the prickly patch drinking and chatting with a few locals in the air conditioning.
Before the sun set, we headed just up the road to the ranch where we would all camp and party for the rest of the night. At the ranch, we had to ride in some very slick mud to set up camp just as it was getting dark. “Momo”, the first man to ride into the grass slid out and ate shit immediately on his shiny new Harley LowRider. No harm done and made for a fun story. The rest of the night was spent drinking beer, telling stories, watching old chopper movies, gazing at the millions of stars, and tending to a fire all while laughing and having the best time in middle-of-nowhere, Texas. Really one of those “you had to be there” kind of nights.
We all woke up around 9:00 or 10:00am to a warm sun. Poor ol’ Minnesota Todd was drenched in sweat on this 85 degree morning. Everyone helped clean up, said their goodbyes and we all headed our separate ways happy that we all just made so many new friends.
I am very glad I participated in the inaugural Gabe’s Ride Out. I dubbed it “Gabe’s Rough Ride” since we somehow managed to find the gnarliest roads in Texas, but the asphalt conditions only made it more fun. I was worried about getting ID’d at bars and not being able to relate to all you dudes double my age, but people bought me beers and motorcycles are a universal language. Everything worked out and we all had a blast. Gabe had chopper games planned and I planned to take a lot more pictures, but we were too busy just having fun it seems. The Gabe’s Ride Out was an incredibly laid back, small, and perfect event with a hilarious name. Like I said, it’s one of those “you had to be there” kind of things. And next year, you should be.
Thanks for the opportunity, guys!
-Timmy “The Teenage Chopper MacGyver” Marr
The boys contacted me just before I was leaving for this trip about possibly contributing. Not sure of my self and what all I have to offer as Im just a no body doing life the only way I know how, I graciously accepted. With hopes to spread stoke and inspire, here is my first post. Hope ya’ll enjoy. -Chad
Doozle Does Detroit
It seems that summer ends as soon as it starts. It felt like just yesterday we all were carving the mountains during Smokey Mountain Chopperfest. I guess the saying is right, time flies when you’re having fun. With fall about to start, I needed to get out of the sauna state and roam some miles while I still could. A few phone calls and considerations, I was pumped to head to Detroit for Oily souls and the Venturo’s bbq.
I ditched a plane ticket for the following weekends family vacation in Michigan and trucked up to Acme, Pa. A good buddy, Kyle Lopes had been working there all summer at a rad indy HD shop, McClain’s jam cycle. I dumped the swingshuv out and packed her up for the weekend. Kyle got cut from work and off we went to Pittsburg. It was my first time ever seeing the city. From the outside it looked glorious and on the inside it seemed American as fuck.
The next morning we were headed towards Cleveland to meet up with some guy named Bob. Kyle mentioned tolls along our way and I just laughed. We have them all over in Orlando and on a bike its not hard to cover up a plate to roll for free so I said, “Just follow suite, I got ya.” Well, I encountered a new kind of tollbooth; this motherfucker had an arm that about close lined me off the bike. Holding on like hell I definitely did not cover my plate and ended up head butting the flexible arm. I cannot wait for that ticket in the mail. Back to Bob though, Bob has a rad pan/shovel with some of the most meticulous ingenuity I have ever seen in person. Brake linkages that attach to the oil pump, a brake stay that god himself would have a hard time creating and an engine that makes the devil smile every time it’s kicked to life. After meeting Bob and talking, I found out his bike was also in the show. Fuck yeah for riding it there!
A couple hundred miles later we rolled into the velodrome where the Venturos were hosting their 4th annual bbq. All types of bikes and people gathered around an old abandon bicycle racetrack. The sun had begun to set and beers were flowing. One of those points in time you wish you could relive over and over again.
Waking up in the Venturos yard the next morning, we all road to grab food. The McDonalds we found had more security measures than most banks I’ve been in, a nice reminder as to where we were. Next was the famed ghetto tour, unfortunately cut short from some afternoon showers, we ended up under a huge pavilion with beers, some smoke and a skateboard. We all made the absolute most of it and left as friends.
The rains subsided and the rest of the Venturos met us at the pavilion for the ride to the show. A few miles of Detroit’s finest roads and we arrived. Parked in the median directly across from the entrance, we walked right in. Beautiful bikes, happy people and delicious tacos, you couldn’t ask for anything more.
A few blocks after we left the show my go pro slipped out of my jacket, luckily Kyle noticed it and we u-turned back. There it lay in the middle of an intersection…lucky af. However it was late Saturday night in Detroit and we lost the group. A few random gas station directions later we found 8mile road, jogged back to 7mile and a right at the Little Ceasers. Success, we made it back to the house.
A long night with no sleep, still tripping, we left around 7am. I couldn’t even gather my tent up, seriously, barely got my other belongings on the bike. Absolute shambles and we were off, the good ol’ Irish goodbye.
A bit over 300 miles of trying not to fall asleep or puke and our weekend was done. A huge thanks to Will Solares for the initial invite, Kyle Lopes and his boss for everything. Who ever puts on Oily souls, y’all nailed a great event and the Venturos, Thanks for the hospitality guys. End of summer success. Cheers -TheMandoozle