TAR BALL RUN 7

 

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.

Rich is the man, walks with a cane and rides miles like a demon. So awesome to see him out and about.

Showing up a day late, we opted to just meet everyone down in the keys for a late lunch and beers. Going from just a few of us making it south to heading for camp with what felt like 50 bikes was a blast. Some bikes older than the riders themselves and some participants old enough to be most of our parents. It’s an unlikely family coming together for a weekend of pure fun.
Saturday night was host to the “dreaded raffle and awards party.” By this time it all got a little blurry, but the tent was set with shine and beer flowing. The bit I do remember, two guys won cutest couple, I got a how to mig weld DVD and some lady was front and center with none stop eye rolling comments.

 Then Sunday morning hits ya like a freight train and you find your Honda on a picnic table with dicks and other homoerotic scribbles all over it. A push and a shuv,  she was back on the ground. Puking and packing we gathered up, checked over the bikes as we got ready for the 250 miles home.  No Irish good byes here, we did our rounds. Another year in the books.

Chopper time at Willies Tropical Tattoo

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:

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Doozle does Detroit.

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

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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.

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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.unspecified-3unspecified-5

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!unspecified-4unspecified-7

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.

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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.

 

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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.

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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.

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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

#GRO IS THIS FUCKING WEEKEND.. 8/27/2016

GROflier In case any of you are wondering what we are up to lately and what the hell GRO is you’re in luck..

One of the site owners ( @loudngreasy ) is having a birthday.. (he’s had many of them already so no need to wish him a happy bday)  .. so we decided to make an event out of it.

we dubbed it Gabes Ride Out. bunch of bad ass babe dudes doing bad ass babe things on our bad ass babe motorbikes. it’ll be a small event unless the internet says otherwise and a shit ton of people show. We aren’t in it to gain sponsors, We’re not in it to become the next El Diablo Run, not in it to make any money* or anything like that.   I (@wagonburner) am traveling to Texas from Minneapolis for the event and another site owner (@ramzy) is traveling to the Texas from Virginia. We are just missing @thebcb, then the fist would be complete but it wasn’t in the cards..  come make real life friends from internet life screen names.

#VIVALACANTINA #GRO #gabesrideout

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*there is a fee to camp ($10) but it goes to the land owner and not in any of our pockets..

Local Heros – Southern Cycle Works

The South shall Rise again @ Southern Cycle Works…Story and pics by FLY SKEETO

In today’s fast paced world it seems like everywhere you turn the get em in, get em out, keep em moving, give em less, charge em more way of life is the norm. A sad reality considering that in the not so distant past people and business valued a loyal customer and showed basic human courtesy to their patrons. If you like me yearn for those days of a slower paced society pre cell phone, pre internet or instagram , twitter or the biggest annoyance of all Pre Kardashian. Then I should probably let you know about this little oasis of motorcycle bliss named Southern cycle works

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Southern Cycle Works is a small newly established Indy motorcycle shop located in the down and dirty part of Dallas Tx, don’t let the occasional crack head or stray hooker loitering around distract you because what’s going on in the shop is what any red blooded American gear head dreams about at night. That is Real honest to goodness wrenching and fabrication.  Owner Butch Coss whose motorcycle career started way back in 1979 and his right hand man Dwayne specialize in Vintage Harley but the occasional jap or brit bike find their way into the shop and get treated with the same love that the American freedom machines receive.

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Southern Cycle Works has a real cool laid back vibe with plenty of eye candy to keep you occupied while Butch and Dwayne check out your bike and give you great quality work and prices for parts and labor that can’t be beat. On any given day you might walk in to find a knuckle or pan up on the lift but Shovelheads seem to be Ole grey beard Butch bike of affection.  I asked Owner Butch why at 64 years young he would want to start a business when others are already retiring and looking for deals on cemetery plots and he answered,  “ I’ve served in the military. I’ve been to prison working on Harleys seems like a lot better option”

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Small Independent bike shops are a dying breed. I can’t stress enough no matter what town or state you live in support your local shop. Indy shops are more than just a place to get your bike fixed It is a gathering place, a Mecca for the likeminded, a place where a wide eyed eager to learn youngster might wander in and set him on a path that he will follow the rest of his days.  Southern Cycle Works is one of these American ways of life.

To contact Butch Coss at Southern Cycle  Works follow him on Instagram username GRANPABUTCH or call the shop @ 214-434-0978

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Alien Run

The annual ALIEN RUN comes to town like a giant humming blue ribbed flashing pickle shaped cylindrical UFO penetrating the sky, vibrating faster than the human mind can comprehend and shooting lighting from it’s nose cone, to the Little A’Le’Inn, a café/bar with a most gracious and galactic hospitality, disguised in a sleepy little tourist town along a lone desert highway about 100 miles north east of the Las Vegas strip… You’ve just entered Rachel Nevada.

ALIEN RUN 2016 – MAY 21st-22nd, RACHEL NEVADA7259876886_4ddcf4013a_k

FREE CAMPING

RAFFLE

GAMES

CAMPFIRE

FOOD AND BEER AVAILABLE AT THE LITTLE A’LE’INN

(they offer a full bar / restuaruant service and sales of 12 packs/case beers for campers)

(please note: nearest GAS is 50 miles away in Alamo)

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Nearby Groom Lake also known as “Dreamland” where we absolutely know aliens have been squirreled away since being recovered from a “weather balloon test” in Roswell, New Mexico (in the later 1940’s) (Yes, we have the proof). Where covert advanced 7260024346_b6c9f787cf_kdevelopment of military aircraft and laser weapon research takes place far underground inside secret bunkers with extraterrestrial guidance, at the Not-So secret military base (permanently off limits to nosey nerdy civilian personnel) most commonly known as …AREA 51. Well, Rachel Nevada is as close as you can get without getting arrested… (but still can if you try hard enough I’m sure).

Be warned the road to Rachel is often obscured by weird electro-magnetic atmospheric fluctuations, violent but passing rain and 7260133382_30dac39b5c_khailstorms (not so much in May…), dense fog covering the valley floor and hallucinating cattle (all year round. Remember, they’ve been probed a lot, so they’re kinda over it…) seemingly intent on blocking the highway. Many riders arrived only to find sunny skies overhead and cold beverages awaiting their final approach, failing to understand that the Aliens were intent upon arriving unnoticed…

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Some say there is also Men In Black amongst the tumbleweeds, hiding, just 7260208860_e36f1b87b3_kwaiting to snare a Lizardtillian from the bar with some form of hand-held dildo shaped tractor beam weapon. But to date, I’ve yet to see any abductions, or for that matter mysterious flying discs that hover overhead and drop their goo covered tentacles down to slobber slimey space seed into the brains of those mingling and drinking around the 7259968360_8dca76c771_kcampfires at night… at least I don’t remember any of that happening. Who’s to say it didn’t…? It probably did and I just supressed the memories.

by ROY NEARY7237874620_7e4531bbc2_k (1)