Careful out there kids.....if you live in the mid-west, there is still salt and debrie on the road.....and if you are as smart as I am, and are running 25 yr. old avon MKII's, it makes for a good time. Watch those sharp lefts.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Crashing Fucking Sucks.....
Careful out there kids.....if you live in the mid-west, there is still salt and debrie on the road.....and if you are as smart as I am, and are running 25 yr. old avon MKII's, it makes for a good time. Watch those sharp lefts.
Dork Shit.
All sorts of great info and calulators for harley based engines:
http://www.rbracing-rsr.com/calculations.htm
And...to settle the stupid argument i hear from every dumb shit about exhaust...."You need some backpressure"...
"We are going to state this very clearly...Backpressure does not increase horsepower. Period.
An often heard statement from the well-informed is "You need a bit of backpressure for an exhaust to work". Usually this comes from someone who is not a tuner or someone who is faced with a situation where he does not have the tools or means to adjust things. Anything you do in the exhaust will change the flows, the pressures, or velocities somewhat. The correct scenario is that the exhaust has to be properly designed and then you optimize the jetting, ecu data inputs, camshafts, port dimensions, valve sizes and the like. The exhaust has to be designed for the intended use.
This all dates from the early 1980's when Supertrapp invented a muffler designed for dirtbikes to trap potential sparks, or burning, carbonized, bits, so it could have US Forrestry Approval for off-road use. The "trapp" tells what the intended purpose was. If you wanted a Harley to barely work you had to stick a couple of pounds, or about 23-25 of these discs in the end of your exhaust. Of course this didn't really work, which is why they ended up putting a hole up the middle anyway. You don't tune an exhaust.
Your engine has 15 psi (1 Bar) of atmospheric pressure sitting at the inlet and another 15 psi lurking at the end of the tailpipe. The inlet stroke creates a pressure differential and the atmosphere goes rushing inward. The exhaust valve opens and there is a pressure rise in the tube followed by a strong vacuum signal as the gases head down the pipe. Note that we said "vacuum signal."
Pressure differentials can be seen in the exhaust of a jet engine. We have a high pressure pulse coming out our exhaust system but it's just not visible as in the photo above.
The pattern of evenly spaced rings sometimes visible in the exhaust of jet engine is typically referred to as shock diamonds or Mach disks. The phenomenon occurs anytime a flow exits a nozzle at supersonic speeds and at a pressure that is different than that of the external atmosphere. Most of us are probably used to seeing shock diamonds occur near sea level during the takeoff of an aircraft, like in the above photo of the SR-71 Blackbird.
Logical extremes are often used to illustrate a point. For those who argue that backpressure can be a help they might say, from an extreme position, "Let's throw away the exhaust system so we have no backpressure at all". They would then conclude that the motor would run like crap and we would agree completely. The only problem is that they haven't gotten rid of backpressure, they simply have introduced 15 psi at the exhaust port and have given up any inertia, gas speeds or vacuum signals that exist in a primary tube.
The vacuum signal or low pressure that follows an exhaust event can be used to help scavenge the cylinder during overlap when both exhaust and inlet valves are open. Conversely, during this overlap period, the increase in backpressure can cause these burnt gases to re-enter the combustion chamber and contaminate the inlet charge. Result...loss of power.
The proper way to look at exhausts is to view them as a way to maintain the highest velocity that will not impede flow. As velocity increases the pressure drops and the engine can become more efficient. We have all the variables of length, diameter, rpm, collector size, internal shapes and the reflective waves that all this causes. There is no "one answer".
For those of you who disagree because of anecdotal evidence we would agree with you also. Altering an exhaust's flow can correct someting else like mixure or spark timing. In the end, if you have to throw it off a cliff to win, do it. Only results count and if increasing backpressure helps your situation then do it.
As a final thought...Gale Banks doesn't make money selling increased backpressure exhaust systems. Think about it. That picture above is a dedicated exhaust backpressure gauge. We use them."
http://www.rbracing-rsr.com/calculations.htm
And...to settle the stupid argument i hear from every dumb shit about exhaust...."You need some backpressure"...
"We are going to state this very clearly...Backpressure does not increase horsepower. Period.
An often heard statement from the well-informed is "You need a bit of backpressure for an exhaust to work". Usually this comes from someone who is not a tuner or someone who is faced with a situation where he does not have the tools or means to adjust things. Anything you do in the exhaust will change the flows, the pressures, or velocities somewhat. The correct scenario is that the exhaust has to be properly designed and then you optimize the jetting, ecu data inputs, camshafts, port dimensions, valve sizes and the like. The exhaust has to be designed for the intended use.
This all dates from the early 1980's when Supertrapp invented a muffler designed for dirtbikes to trap potential sparks, or burning, carbonized, bits, so it could have US Forrestry Approval for off-road use. The "trapp" tells what the intended purpose was. If you wanted a Harley to barely work you had to stick a couple of pounds, or about 23-25 of these discs in the end of your exhaust. Of course this didn't really work, which is why they ended up putting a hole up the middle anyway. You don't tune an exhaust.
Your engine has 15 psi (1 Bar) of atmospheric pressure sitting at the inlet and another 15 psi lurking at the end of the tailpipe. The inlet stroke creates a pressure differential and the atmosphere goes rushing inward. The exhaust valve opens and there is a pressure rise in the tube followed by a strong vacuum signal as the gases head down the pipe. Note that we said "vacuum signal."
Pressure differentials can be seen in the exhaust of a jet engine. We have a high pressure pulse coming out our exhaust system but it's just not visible as in the photo above.
The pattern of evenly spaced rings sometimes visible in the exhaust of jet engine is typically referred to as shock diamonds or Mach disks. The phenomenon occurs anytime a flow exits a nozzle at supersonic speeds and at a pressure that is different than that of the external atmosphere. Most of us are probably used to seeing shock diamonds occur near sea level during the takeoff of an aircraft, like in the above photo of the SR-71 Blackbird.
Logical extremes are often used to illustrate a point. For those who argue that backpressure can be a help they might say, from an extreme position, "Let's throw away the exhaust system so we have no backpressure at all". They would then conclude that the motor would run like crap and we would agree completely. The only problem is that they haven't gotten rid of backpressure, they simply have introduced 15 psi at the exhaust port and have given up any inertia, gas speeds or vacuum signals that exist in a primary tube.
The vacuum signal or low pressure that follows an exhaust event can be used to help scavenge the cylinder during overlap when both exhaust and inlet valves are open. Conversely, during this overlap period, the increase in backpressure can cause these burnt gases to re-enter the combustion chamber and contaminate the inlet charge. Result...loss of power.
The proper way to look at exhausts is to view them as a way to maintain the highest velocity that will not impede flow. As velocity increases the pressure drops and the engine can become more efficient. We have all the variables of length, diameter, rpm, collector size, internal shapes and the reflective waves that all this causes. There is no "one answer".
For those of you who disagree because of anecdotal evidence we would agree with you also. Altering an exhaust's flow can correct someting else like mixure or spark timing. In the end, if you have to throw it off a cliff to win, do it. Only results count and if increasing backpressure helps your situation then do it.
As a final thought...Gale Banks doesn't make money selling increased backpressure exhaust systems. Think about it. That picture above is a dedicated exhaust backpressure gauge. We use them."
Friday, March 26, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Shooting...
Well I took a break yesterday and headed out to the gun range. I just took my .22s out but still had a great time. Ended up shooting an old Model 94 .32 Special lever action and a real nice Springfield XD9. A nice afternoon going out and going through some rounds while forgetting about life for a bit...
Good to know.....
Why don't you just buy dirtbikes? from Bolts Action on Vimeo.
............that other people destroy shit too.
Taylors Tins.
I'm not a big fan of the new EFI rubber mount sporty's, but I'm pretty sure that Taylor in K Zoo is gonna have the coolest.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
I love the midwest......
But this is the biggest crock of shit ever.....60's all week long....not sleepin enough. Ridin. Goin to work. I wake up saturday morning on my day off.....SNOW! Not cool.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Metal Tricks..
Great blog with all sorts of good instructional videos on metal forming and fabrication.
This guy is really good with metal...check out his blog:
http://specialseventynine.blogspot.com/
Great little video on coping tubing for those of us who dont have a mill.
Here's a link to the site for the templates...pretty damn handy.
http://www.dogfeatherdesign.com/ttn/runTubeNotcher.html
This guy is really good with metal...check out his blog:
http://specialseventynine.blogspot.com/
Great little video on coping tubing for those of us who dont have a mill.
Here's a link to the site for the templates...pretty damn handy.
http://www.dogfeatherdesign.com/ttn/runTubeNotcher.html
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Stretching the legs
In August of 2008 I had a party at my old house. When I woke up the morning after I found that somebody had backed down the side of one of my vehicles...To say the least, I was pissed...Well long story short, after the smoke cleared I was able to get it all sorted out and after shoving the truck into the corner for several months while searching for parts, I took it over to my friends shop in the fall of 2009. The plan was to strip it down to a bare frame and fix a few things here and there while also taking care of the damage done. I ended up doing a lot more than I planned, but in the end it was worth it.
Today was that end. I decided I wasn't going to wait any longer and I pulled Ol' Blue out of the garage it was stored in. I haven't really had a chance to take this thing out and enjoy it since before it was side swiped. Ive had this beast since I was 15 years old and its been my first pride and joy. Ive gone through damn near every nut and bolt on it and overall its been through a few transformations, so needless to say today felt good.
As I drove out into the sun and babied it down the side streets I had a smile on that had been tucked deep away for that near year and a half. After a bit I got familiar again with how the thing handled and I took it up to 6500 and just thought to myself, damn that feels good. Its funny how something you've worked on for so long can just make you forget about everything else that's going on around you, the minute you get it out on the open road....
When I felt confident that I hadn't noticed or heard anything to be wrong, besides a few noisy solid lifters, I turned the radio on and was greeted by the CD that had been in place all that time and the first song was Neil Young's "Keep On Rocking In The Free World".....How fitting
The Damage done
Nothing but road
Today was that end. I decided I wasn't going to wait any longer and I pulled Ol' Blue out of the garage it was stored in. I haven't really had a chance to take this thing out and enjoy it since before it was side swiped. Ive had this beast since I was 15 years old and its been my first pride and joy. Ive gone through damn near every nut and bolt on it and overall its been through a few transformations, so needless to say today felt good.
As I drove out into the sun and babied it down the side streets I had a smile on that had been tucked deep away for that near year and a half. After a bit I got familiar again with how the thing handled and I took it up to 6500 and just thought to myself, damn that feels good. Its funny how something you've worked on for so long can just make you forget about everything else that's going on around you, the minute you get it out on the open road....
When I felt confident that I hadn't noticed or heard anything to be wrong, besides a few noisy solid lifters, I turned the radio on and was greeted by the CD that had been in place all that time and the first song was Neil Young's "Keep On Rocking In The Free World".....How fitting
The Damage done
Nothing but road
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
qBLmcZvBWKQ~~_3.jpg)
Searching...
For some lenses...
First up Im in need of a nice set of tail light lenses for a 62' Chrysler 300...Like below. Im not looking for a NOS set or anyhting, just something that isnt all twisted up and looking like someone put them in the microwave...(like the ones I already have)
Next, Im on the hunt for the old style flat lenses that went on Harley turn signal kits. They look like the bullet style housing on the XLs but Im unsure if the factory made them...but I think a company called Chris manufactured them for the aftermarket... I have a bunch of Amber ones but am looking for a red set. They are smaller diameter than the newer models but mount the same with the two screws....These are what the housings and lenses look like:
Any help is much appreciated...feel free to comment or email... Thanks
First up Im in need of a nice set of tail light lenses for a 62' Chrysler 300...Like below. Im not looking for a NOS set or anyhting, just something that isnt all twisted up and looking like someone put them in the microwave...(like the ones I already have)
Next, Im on the hunt for the old style flat lenses that went on Harley turn signal kits. They look like the bullet style housing on the XLs but Im unsure if the factory made them...but I think a company called Chris manufactured them for the aftermarket... I have a bunch of Amber ones but am looking for a red set. They are smaller diameter than the newer models but mount the same with the two screws....These are what the housings and lenses look like:
Any help is much appreciated...feel free to comment or email... Thanks
Monday, March 15, 2010
Florida.
On the ride down there from tennessee I have never seen so many douchey baggers on trailers........and we didn't even go to bike week. Fun trip despite the shitty weather, and hassle.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Stolen Truth
Sunday, March 7, 2010
A man and his machine...
What is it about two wheeled hooliganism that soothes the soul?
“Open All Night” might have been a Springsteen ode to white trash roadrunners, but the spirit of the song translates nicely to anyone with an affinity for motorcycles. Not a mere interest, not an occasional fling, but an affinity; a full on lust for the perils that accompany a two wheeled pilgrimage anywhere past the driveway or apartment parking lot.
Today’s society demands the common man spend the majority of his life toiling away at some sort of soul-sucking insignificant task until he eventually is forced to retire and die of something he never knew existed. Alternatively, a person always has the option of slugging it out over a dream; and if he’s lucky, the bourgeois-sons of bitches who run Corporate Amerika won’t choke the hope out of him with high-interest loans.
Make no mistake about it sports fans, these are Hard Times we’re living in. The stock market’s falling faster than a suicide jumper and people’s savings accounts are disappearing like good ol’ fashioned rock n’ roll. Someone once said something about everyone needing some kinda ventilator; and the proletariat is no exception. People need some relief, goddammit!
Some people go fishing and wear shoes with no socks. Some play a round of golf in atrocious clothing, some go for a hike and watch bears fuck, and some of us swing a leg over a two-wheeled, quarter-ton, fire breathing suicide machine. Nothing kicks the work-day blues like executing a precision twenty-foot churning burn out in the workplace parking lot; cackling like a bat-shit speed fiend as you hurdle yourself into 5 O’ clock traffic with all the reckless abandon of a kamikaze pilot.
Fear not; you are not alone. Motorcycle hooligans are everywhere. They lurk in mild-mannered suburban garages, low-rent apartments, and down town tenements; and you can bet your ass you’re going to see a whole lot more of them coming out of the woodwork in these troubled times. Turmoil turns out two-wheeled rebel rousers like a full moon draws out an army of fuckin’ werewolves.
Let’s face it folks, hard times are what started all of this in the first place. The custom motorcycle was born in the hearts of men who had been to hell and back; their departure from conventional cycling was a direct reflection of their new perspective on life. These guys returned from years of unimaginable horror and were expected to trade their blood-stained fatigues for a clean white shirt and their rifles for a briefcase or union card. They were expected to assimilate themselves into a society that could never understand the things they’d seen and done; and by god, that’s what they did.
But with assimilation came the necessary ventilators; be it a highball in a rocks glass or a beer in a bowling alley. Others (read: The Boozefighters) cut loose on finger-fucked Harleys and Triumphs. Now here were some guys who were simply out to have a good time. Historical accounts of the clubs that sprung up after World War Two indicate they were little more than a bunch of vets looking to sew some wild oats and do a little living after kicking the krauts out of France and smacking the shit outta Tojo.
Clubs from all over used to get together for scrambles, hill climbs, and grassroots race events. There were no fights over territory, no bloodshed (save some occasional fisticuffs) over how many fucking patches were on the back of your vest, and no stupid-assed coalitions. Hell, some of the originals even flew different colors on different days. It was all about riding your machine and making some good memories with some good friends- which naturally included freaking out the citizens and AMA jockeys from time to time.
This brief visit upon history begs the question, “What the fuck is going on around here?!”
I came back from Russia five years ago utterly confused; but I knew for sure I was going to buy myself a ‘sickle and I was going to chop the fuck out of it. Not long after I accomplished that, some blue collar buddies and I started our own little motorcycle club, the Knuckle Dusters. The"rules" were absurd and nonsensical at best (i.e., "finish your goddamned beer"), and participation simply dictated you ride a motorcycle and show a little class.
No sooner did we dawn our crudely sewn colors then the shake-downs start rolling in. Some asshole from an “outlaw” club would come wandering up at a gas station in bumblefuck to feel us out. I’d tell ‘em we were a small group who just liked to ride and scare the squares; which would inevitably lead to a monologue about how we should join some sort of coalition for twenty bucks a month so “bad things wouldn’t happen to us.”
The way I see it, if I’ve gotta pay money every month to avoid having my ass kicked, maybe I need to have my ass kicked…
But I digress. We were talking about hard times and the soothing mystique of riding a hand-wrenched death trap.
Hard times might encroach on a man’s ability to put four-thousand dollar billet rims on a motorcycle, but they’re certainly not going to keep him from turning a wrench or firing up a sawz-all on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Desperation pushes people to inexplicable behavior, like chopping the shit out of a perfectly good fender or trading a fine set of shocks for some rigid steel struts. Your average God-fearing citizen will always question the mental health of a man who grinds all the turn signals off a motorcycle in favor of running a taillight the size of a dog’s asshole- but who gives a shit.
The stripped- down, bare- knuckle, death trap murder-‘sickle is a personal expression. Hell, ANY motorcycle can be a personal expression if the rider wills it. In the end, a true custom ‘sickle is one that embodies its rider’s fight against whatever ails him. If your bike stands as a monument to your struggle for freedom, you’ve turned a wrench in the right direction.
And that, mi amigos, is what it all boils down to. Work can get shitty, life can throw us curve balls, the whole world can come to an end- but we’ll be standing there to the bitter end, reeling in the dust and the blood; a noble and proud few who refuse to give up until we’ve been planted in the dirt.
We are savage horsemen, for fuck’s sake; and the custom motorcycle is a tribute to our creed. It’s about not giving up when you’re tits deep in parts on a modification gone awry, it’s about busting your knuckles on a week night spent wrenching up your shit when you’ve got to drag yourself in to work at six. It’s about screwing it on after a soul-sucking day at work and feeling alive- feeling ten and twenty and thirty years younger; feeling free, fearless, and completely in control of your own destiny despite whatever plans the world might have for you. Say what you want about brotherhood and beer joints, what it all comes down to is the machine- your machine- and what it stands for. You can strip away the extraneous bullshit, but you can never take away the feeling that comes with hammering through five O’ clock traffic at ninety miles an hour on a two wheeled suicide stallion you’ve made your own. That’s the living, breathing custom motorcycle. That’s the church of choppers. That’s the heart of the motorcycle hooligan.
Fuckin’ A.
A man and his machine...
What is it about two wheeled hooliganism that soothes the soul?
“Open All Night” might have been a Springsteen ode to white trash roadrunners, but the spirit of the song translates nicely to anyone with an affinity for motorcycles. Not a mere interest, not an occasional fling, but an affinity; a full on lust for the perils that accompany a two wheeled pilgrimage anywhere past the driveway or apartment parking lot.
Today’s society demands the common man spend the majority of his life toiling away at some sort of soul-sucking insignificant task until he eventually is forced to retire and die of something he never knew existed. Alternatively, a person always has the option of slugging it out over a dream; and if he’s lucky, the bourgeois-sons of bitches who run Corporate Amerika won’t choke the hope out of him with high-interest loans.
Make no mistake about it sports fans, these are Hard Times we’re living in. The stock market’s falling faster than a suicide jumper and people’s savings accounts are disappearing like good ol’ fashioned rock n’ roll. Someone once said something about everyone needing some kinda ventilator; and the proletariat is no exception. People need some relief, goddammit!
Some people go fishing and wear shoes with no socks. Some play a round of golf in atrocious clothing, some go for a hike and watch bears fuck, and some of us swing a leg over a two-wheeled, quarter-ton, fire breathing suicide machine. Nothing kicks the work-day blues like executing a precision twenty-foot churning burn out in the workplace parking lot; cackling like a bat-shit speed fiend as you hurdle yourself into 5 O’ clock traffic with all the reckless abandon of a kamikaze pilot.
Fear not; you are not alone. Motorcycle hooligans are everywhere. They lurk in mild-mannered suburban garages, low-rent apartments, and down town tenements; and you can bet your ass you’re going to see a whole lot more of them coming out of the woodwork in these troubled times. Turmoil turns out two-wheeled rebel rousers like a full moon draws out an army of fuckin’ werewolves.
Let’s face it folks, hard times are what started all of this in the first place. The custom motorcycle was born in the hearts of men who had been to hell and back; their departure from conventional cycling was a direct reflection of their new perspective on life. These guys returned from years of unimaginable horror and were expected to trade their blood-stained fatigues for a clean white shirt and their rifles for a briefcase or union card. They were expected to assimilate themselves into a society that could never understand the things they’d seen and done; and by god, that’s what they did.
But with assimilation came the necessary ventilators; be it a highball in a rocks glass or a beer in a bowling alley. Others (read: The Boozefighters) cut loose on finger-fucked Harleys and Triumphs. Now here were some guys who were simply out to have a good time. Historical accounts of the clubs that sprung up after World War Two indicate they were little more than a bunch of vets looking to sew some wild oats and do a little living after kicking the krauts out of France and smacking the shit outta Tojo.
Clubs from all over used to get together for scrambles, hill climbs, and grassroots race events. There were no fights over territory, no bloodshed (save some occasional fisticuffs) over how many fucking patches were on the back of your vest, and no stupid-assed coalitions. Hell, some of the originals even flew different colors on different days. It was all about riding your machine and making some good memories with some good friends- which naturally included freaking out the citizens and AMA jockeys from time to time.
This brief visit upon history begs the question, “What the fuck is going on around here?!”
I came back from Russia five years ago utterly confused; but I knew for sure I was going to buy myself a ‘sickle and I was going to chop the fuck out of it. Not long after I accomplished that, some blue collar buddies and I started our own little motorcycle club, the Knuckle Dusters. The"rules" were absurd and nonsensical at best (i.e., "finish your goddamned beer"), and participation simply dictated you ride a motorcycle and show a little class.
No sooner did we dawn our crudely sewn colors then the shake-downs start rolling in. Some asshole from an “outlaw” club would come wandering up at a gas station in bumblefuck to feel us out. I’d tell ‘em we were a small group who just liked to ride and scare the squares; which would inevitably lead to a monologue about how we should join some sort of coalition for twenty bucks a month so “bad things wouldn’t happen to us.”
The way I see it, if I’ve gotta pay money every month to avoid having my ass kicked, maybe I need to have my ass kicked…
But I digress. We were talking about hard times and the soothing mystique of riding a hand-wrenched death trap.
Hard times might encroach on a man’s ability to put four-thousand dollar billet rims on a motorcycle, but they’re certainly not going to keep him from turning a wrench or firing up a sawz-all on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Desperation pushes people to inexplicable behavior, like chopping the shit out of a perfectly good fender or trading a fine set of shocks for some rigid steel struts. Your average God-fearing citizen will always question the mental health of a man who grinds all the turn signals off a motorcycle in favor of running a taillight the size of a dog’s asshole- but who gives a shit.
The stripped- down, bare- knuckle, death trap murder-‘sickle is a personal expression. Hell, ANY motorcycle can be a personal expression if the rider wills it. In the end, a true custom ‘sickle is one that embodies its rider’s fight against whatever ails him. If your bike stands as a monument to your struggle for freedom, you’ve turned a wrench in the right direction.
And that, mi amigos, is what it all boils down to. Work can get shitty, life can throw us curve balls, the whole world can come to an end- but we’ll be standing there to the bitter end, reeling in the dust and the blood; a noble and proud few who refuse to give up until we’ve been planted in the dirt.
We are savage horsemen, for fuck’s sake; and the custom motorcycle is a tribute to our creed. It’s about not giving up when you’re tits deep in parts on a modification gone awry, it’s about busting your knuckles on a week night spent wrenching up your shit when you’ve got to drag yourself in to work at six. It’s about screwing it on after a soul-sucking day at work and feeling alive- feeling ten and twenty and thirty years younger; feeling free, fearless, and completely in control of your own destiny despite whatever plans the world might have for you. Say what you want about brotherhood and beer joints, what it all comes down to is the machine- your machine- and what it stands for. You can strip away the extraneous bullshit, but you can never take away the feeling that comes with hammering through five O’ clock traffic at ninety miles an hour on a two wheeled suicide stallion you’ve made your own. That’s the living, breathing custom motorcycle. That’s the church of choppers. That’s the heart of the motorcycle hooligan.
Fuckin’ A.
Beautiful
Im not much into rap but I stumbled across this video today. Eminem, "Beautiful"... It has some good and strong lyrics... and the video features a lot of interesting sights around the Detroit area...including the vacated train station and old Tiger Stadium... Check it out if you wish
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Run For Your Life!
We made plans to go to this last year...and then they fell through...This year Its a must. Check it out...and be there August 6-8 2010
R4YL Blog
R4YL Blog
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Today...
I bought a house. Im pretty excited on having my own garage again... Also stoked on having a place to keep all of my "neat" junk....
Thats the entry way into the attached garage....and also the first thing you see when you walk into the house.
The first and probably the last time I pulled into the garage. Not enough room for all my cars yet...so I'll have to sacrifice the daily to the elements outside...
I cant wait to get all moved in and be able to get some work done on some projects....
Thats the entry way into the attached garage....and also the first thing you see when you walk into the house. 
The first and probably the last time I pulled into the garage. Not enough room for all my cars yet...so I'll have to sacrifice the daily to the elements outside...I cant wait to get all moved in and be able to get some work done on some projects....
Billetproof Florida.
I'll post more pics as the days go on. Crazy break-down filled trip. Cold. The day and a half of nice riding was worth it though....even though the show sucked.
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