Mike's Malarkey

Mike's Malarkey

 

ike's Malarky :

10-12-2000

How We See It by Megan & ModestMike

Hi Y’alls. What’s more sad than a scooter tramp without a scooter? It’s a scooter tramp without a scooter one week before Daytona! I’ve been putzin’ around with the unimportant stuff in life and putting off the real important stuff, like fixin’ my scoot. Now times almost up and I’m here typing this, when I should be elbow deep in 70 weight.

So, before I go, I’ll tell you now what I should have told you last month "1. Get off your ass and call your boss and tell her that you won’t be in for work the 19th thru the 22nd. 2. Tell the ol’lady to stock up on Kenny G. cd’s, chocolate bonbons and crying tissue, cuz you’re goin’ to Daytona without her (well somebody has gotta feed the dog and I guess the kids). 3. Smash the rug-rats’ piggy bank, grab their life savings and get down to the local scoot-shop to buy oil, filter and the new Biker mag. 4. Stuff 2 black T-shirts, your best holey jeans, your black/orange jock strap, 2 boxes of trojans and your extra bike key into your OD duffle and strap it on your bike where your ol’lady’s wideload butt usually slimes. 5. Head north! NOW." That’s the best advice I can give, so I’m outta-here!

Megan: Hey All! It’s everyone’s favorite Wiccan again. I have been selling medical supplies to tattoo shops with my friend Rosie, as some of you may know. I want to say hey to Mike from Babylon Tattoo (BTW: what are you doing next Saturday?) and I’ve also started research on making candles to sell them on the web. Soon, you will be able to find my creations on the website (http://3BrokeTramps.Com) that I’m creating with Pops, Fat Joe, and Willie Woo. I am known as WiccaChick on the site, so check it out and email me sometime. I’m pretty good at answering my emails, considering I live on the computer, which is something I get yelled at for quite often. That’s another reason why my motorcycle isn’t done. I can’t seem to get off my happy ass and order the shop manual I need. So go to our website, find something you want to buy on our products page and send us money so Pops and I can fix our bikes. Since, I’m writing this before BiketoberFest, I can’t tell you what a great time I had and why my dad got arrested, although I have a premonition that it’s gonna have sumthin’ to do with me dancing naked on some bar. I didn’t get to misbehave last Bike Week, cuz I was still tryin’ to make a good impression, but by now everyone knows what I’m really like, so there’s no need to play sweet & innocent anymore. I have saved $200 for Daytona, my dad thinks it’s to help pay his and Willie’s way, but it’s really to help with their bail. I guess if I follow the only two rules Daddy makes me live by, (1: Don’t write checks with my mouth that my ass can’t cash and 2: NO WITNESSES!!!!), then they won’t have to rescue my ass and end up in the greybar.

I’ve been on a number of runs now, and I’m tired of a 2 minute ride with a 4 hour party. What I really would like is more 4 hour rides with 4 hour parties. I’d like to love Daytona, but its such a friggin’ parking lot full of drunk assholes, that the journey is really what I look forward to. (Of course, all the cute guys on 2 wheel orgasm machines does help me deal with the aggravation of four wheel and two foot traffic on Main St). I know that my dad expects us to enjoy ourselves this trip, because we just redid our wills, but I know with the new and improved, kinder, gentler, virgin millenium Uncle Willie with us, only the best karma will follow. So, we’ll see ya in a month, that’ll give our Daytona battle wounds time to heal, or our attorney time to have us back on the streets.

 Till next time, Ride HARD and FREE.

 Modest Mike & Megan: On-site computer repair and Webmaster services available.  Call 305-756-0148.  ModestMike@3BrokeTramps.Com, WiccaChick@3BrokeTramps.Com, http://www.3BrokeTramps.Com

 


September 11, 2000

The Way I See It by Megan & ModestMike

 Hey, its Megan again!  My mind has been preoccupied with my kitten after he was hit by a car. He’s ok now thank goodness, but I was worried for awhile.  But, I have a couple of things to say.  First off, I would like to congratulate my friends, Shelly and Phil Condon, for coming as far as they have with their brainchild, Skooter Tramp Productions and The Biker Show.  It is great to know that if I miss an event for one reason or another, that all I would have to do is turn on the TV and I can watch it.  Or, I could just buy a copy of each new show from one of them when I see them at Flossie’s on Sunday or any of the other watering holes.  Don’t miss a chance to see yourself on TV or if you want a cool backdrop for your party, bar or get together, show one of their shows on the big screen!

I’m really getting into tattoos.  My friend, Rose and I are now selling tattoo medical supplies.  You can reach her at (954) 965 0190, if you would like us to fax you a price list.  And remember, if you need computer help, I can trade for ink. 

 ModestMike:  From The Book of Family Traditions on the Art of War by Yagyu Munenori.

    “There is an old saying, ‘Weapons are instruments of ill omen, despised by the Way of Heaven.  To use them only when unavoidable is the Way of Heaven.’  The reason weapons are instruments of ill omen is that the Way of Heaven is the Way that gives life to beings, so something used for killing is truly an instrument of ill omen.  Thus the saying has it that what contradicts the Way of Heaven is despised.

    Nevertheless, it also says that to use arms when unavoidable is also the Way of Heaven.  What does this mean?  Although flowers blossom and greenery increases in the spring breeze, when the autumn frost comes, leaves always drop and trees wither.  This is the judgement of nature.

    This is because there is logic in striking down something when it is completed.  People may take advantage of events to do evil, but when that evil is complete, it is attacked.  That is why it is said that using weapons is also the Way of Heaven.

    It may happen that many people suffer because of the evil of one man.  In such a case, many people are saved by killing one man.  Would this not be a true example of ‘the sword that kills is the sword that gives life?’

    It is bias to think that the art of war is just for killing people.  It is not to kill people, it is to kill evil.  It is a strategy to give life to many people by killing the evil of one person.”

I’ve been hearing a lot lately about the Clinton-Gore administration wanting to make the possession of ALL firearms illegal.  I happen to think that they have already accomplished the first steps and are dedicated to just that, the removal of firearms from our society and the criminal punishment of those of us who refuse to agree with their interpretation of our “Second Amendment Right” to bear arms.  Not to mention “My Personal Amendment Right” to protect my happy ass from dems dat wish me harm by refusing to be a victim.

 My first reaction to basing my vote for any political party on one single plank in their platform seems rash, however, I’ll be making an exception this next election.  I hope you will consider protecting your right to keep some of the money you earn, instead of having your property slowly collected by the government revenuers without fear of serious grass root objections.  And your right to personally protect yourself from some dirt bag that sees you as a sheep-for-slaughter, by voting for a Republican president this next election.  I’m sure that the Jews in pre-nazi Germany wish they had our hindsight.

 Till next time, Ride HARD and FREE.

 Modest Mike: On-site computer repair and Webmaster services available.  Call 305-756-0148.  modestmike@hotmail.com , http://surf.to/modestmike.

 


August 14, 2000

The Way I See It Too by Megan & ModestMike

 Hello, all.  It’s Megan again.  My father has given me the privilege of writing his article.  I think he’s gonna try to pawn it off on me for good pretty soon, so I might want to get used to this.    Anyway, on with the article.  I’ve been wanting to get a tattoo for awhile now, and I’m also into piercings, so when I heard about the tattoo expo that was advertised in last month’s WOTR, I really wanted to go.  I just had to find a way to sucker Dad into taking me.  When I read the email from Miami Mike asking my dad to cover the expo, I jumped at the chance.  I finally had a good reason to waste a day perusing things that I’ve been interested in for a couple years now.  By the time we got there, the expo was well on its way.   There was a pretty decent crowd. As we meandered around checking out where we wanted to start our “research”, what do we find?  WOTR’s very own “Nasty”, who’s starting to get a brand new tat.  After asking the artist to use the extra long & thick needle, we said bye for now to “Nasty” and wandered around some more.  I tried to price my custom turtle tat that Cathy from AJ Roxx drew for me (she’s a great sketch artist), only to find that I practically have to give my first born son to get some of these guys to ink me.  Next, we saw a guy with a high pain tolerance being pierced through his back and legs with hooks, (2 right around shoulder blades, 2 in lower back, and 2 mid thigh) only to be attached to a little cart, suspended from ropes, and paraded around the expo.  We kept checking on “Nasty” in hopes of seeing at least a single tear, but only smiles from him, as “Nasty Jr.” looked on.  Throughout the almost 6 hours we were there, I met quite a few of Dad’s friends, (this is also an apology in advance for anyone if I forget their name….I am terrible with names, and Daddy Dearest knows way too many people!) and I saw quite a few of my friends too.  Finally, “Nasty” gets done with his tat, and still no tear.  DAMN!  That would have made a great article picture, too.  Oh well.  (Kick ass tat, if I do say so)  The next interesting thing to happen was the crucifixion.  It was hyped up the whole night and was actually the main reason we went on Saturday instead of Friday as previously planned, but unfortunately the guy fainted.  Can’t say I blame him at all.  After all, they had pierced both his hands before putting him near the cross.  At the second hand, he fainted.  Hell, he stayed up longer than I could’ve, and for that, I give him major credit.  But, they discontinued the crucifixion after that, maybe for lack of volunteers, and I was kinda looking forward to it.  Maybe they’ll do it again at the next one.  Now that it’s 11:30 or so, we are about to leave, when we hear something about a fetish show, so we weave through the mob to try to get somewhere where I could take pictures.  It didn’t work out too well.  But, it really is the people you know, because this guy I know, Kevin, who usually works at Smith Bros Lounge, was working Security for the event, and got me a great spot.  (Thanks, Kevin…and if you want the pics, I got ‘em!)  By now, it’s about midnight, and I wanted to get going and see my Uncle Joe at the NiteCap, so we said out goodbyes and left, but not without a couple interesting experiences and quite a few photos.  So if any of you tattoo artists out there want to trade-out ink for a website, I’m ready.  Also, if you’re looking for Tattoo medical supplies, I’m helping a friend start a supply business and we can help you out.  Contact me thru my dad’s phone or e-mail.

 ModestMike:

Hello to Claudia, Mindy, Dave & BlackFox and Jose & “Shoilie” Fitgerald.

 Till next time, Ride HARD and FREE.

 Modest Mike: On-site computer repair and Webmaster services available.  Call 305-756-0148.  modestmike@hotmail.com , http://surf.to/modestmike .

 


July 13, 2000

The Way I See It by ModestMike

 Hi Y’all, the first item of bidnizz is the helmet law.  I believe half what I see and nothing I read, so I don’t know if helmets really break your neck or save your pumpkin.  I do know that when I crashed a hundred years ago, my helmet was gouged where my left temple would have been and I know that cops love nothing better than the free gift your giving them when you ride without a hat, it’s called “probable cause” (PC).  I can hear you from here telling me that they aren’t supposed to pull you over for this or that, but you’re just dreaming.  If you ride without your bonnet, your gunna get more than your share of attention.  I really have enjoyed the fantasy that we can at last decide for ourselves whether we ride with a lid or not, but frankly it’s another form of economic discrimination, cuz if you don’t have the bread for insurance, you can’t go topless.  I just want all you sheep to think for a moment that when you have to pay money to shed your fiberglass toupee, it’s closer to extortion than freedom. I have no comment on how this has affected bike insurance rates, cuz I haven’t seen my renewal yet.  I paid $103.00 last year for PIP, I’ll let you know in September if my new rate is close to that.  So, chances are if your brain-bucket ain’t on your head, your next appointment with “the man” will be sooner than you think.  By the way, I’ll remind you that 18 year olds can still fight and die for their country, but can’t ride without a bucket. And that most folks can’t pass a breathalizer after 4 beers, if say on a long shot, they were to get checked for insurance about 5 or 6pm on a Sunday afternoon.

 My daughter and I have been riding back and forth at night from Miami to Ft. Lauderdale, closing down a few nightspots.  Recently I have been wondering what’s up.  Why the hell, with all the so-called bikers out there, are there so many empty seats at these places.  So, if you’re looking for something to do that avoids the “In” crowd, try these out.  Starting soon on Thursdays 9:30pm to 1:30 at "The Quest" on East Prospect, just east of Powerline, is Dean Sire, Eddie Gregg and Mike on drums.  Wednesdays thru Saturdays 8:00pm to 2:00 at the "Night Cap" on 155 street and West Dixie Hwy in North Miami you’ll find my brother Fat Joe hosting a sleepy dive with a great pour and no hassles.  Joe has musical guests on the weekends that include Mr. Twister and Greywolf.  If you like the water, try the “Angler’s Cove” just south of the Dania bridge on the Intercoastal Waterway.  Sit out on the dock and swill while the swells slap a tune on the seawall.  Take your honey or your ol’lady, cuz at night this place is quiet and romantic.  Saturdays 10:00pm to 1:30, we like to catch Joe, Jeff and Todd from Hat Trick at Smith Brothers, just south of Oakland Park on N. Federal. The 2 angels of mischief, Dawn and Maria, are sure to heat up your shorts and cool down your thirst. And when I want to be with folks that ride more than 1 day a week, I drop by Curly Sue’s.  Loopy & Paul, and Charlene & Little Man make me feel right to home.  There ain’t no reason to have empty seats at these places.

 I hope you all enjoyed your 4th of July, 2000.  Even with all my pissin’ and moanin’ I appreciate living in this wonderful country.  The only reasonable experiment in freedom and self government on earth, that I know of, that has laws that protect libertarian malcontents like myself from incarceration (of course I prefer to think of myself as an enlightened, political satirist, but so did Alexander Solzenicin).  Till next time, Ride HARD and FREE.

 Modest Mike: On-site computer repair and Webmaster services available.  Call 305-756-0148.  modestmike@hotmail.com, http://surf.to/modestmike .

  


June 13, 2000

The Way I See It by ModestMike

 Megan: Hey All!  This is ModestMike’s daughter, Megan.  I am now a full-time resident of Miami.  Yay, me!  But, this has been a very interesting three weeks.  I have learned how to kick start Daddy’s bike…and I have learned that it hardly ever starts when you want it to.  If there are more than 10 people standing around you watching, and the bike is only supposed to take 2 kicks to start…it now takes about 25 kicks to start.  One day I did a really good job, where I started the bike on the first try every time I tried.  And it was on a pack ride night, too.  I made a great impression.  Too bad I couldn’t keep it up.  I am still trying to perfect the art, but not doing a very good job.  I figure I have time to learn because I’m still virgin to all this.  Anyway, I had my first pack ride the other night (the one where I started the bike on the first try every time), and it was great!  I love riding, but pack riding is so much better.  All the people watching you go by like you do when you see a pack of bikes.  You really feel like part of a group.  It was fun because I knew some of the people we went with, and I met others that I didn’t know.  I have tried since, but haven’t done as well as that night.  I’m keeping it as a goal to do that good every time. 

 ModestMike: Well, as you can see, the bike-bug has bit another family member.  We’ve been riding 5 times a week, mostly at night (and she cries the other 2 nights, when I don’t want to go anywhere).  I love night riding, it’s cool, it’s quiet, there’s allot less traffic and instead of overheating at traffic lights, you blow them off like a yuppie-wannabe.  It reminds me of riding 30 years ago when I-95 only went from Miami to Hollywood Blvd and Chrome Ave and "Bloody 27" were truly "gatorback" highways.

As a great poet once wrote, "Grab a handful of throttle and run through the gears, forget that citizen’s life you’ve led through the years.  Free to roam wherever you may, enjoying life in your own special way.  Back to your roots that you feel deep inside, forgetting your problems enjoying the ride.  Chase the moon wherever it leads, ride the night fulfilling your needs."

I still get a chill when the throttle opens and the pipes roar, the tire smokes and the rear end swings that controllable 10 degrees to the right.  The carb inhales that cool, crisp night air.  The rpm’s jump, giving just moments to bang another gear.  You lean forward hard into the G’s, otherwise the motor will pull your left hand off the drag bars when you relax your grip to feather the clutch.  Your head and body jerk back each gear, which naturally opens more throttle.  Your knees grab the sides of the bike, cuz your straightened arms need help to stay on.  With each new gear, the rubber claws and then bites, the front end loses weight and hovers above the ground.  Forward goes everything but you, something instinctive clenches your teeth and strengthens your grip as this metal-animal tries to spit you off it’s back.  Down the moonlit slit of asphalt you both fly, your body feeds off its power and its fury is guided by your touch.

But, enough about me.  Thanks to Roy Young for responding to my search for a bike for Megan.  As of this moment in time, I’m still looking for a $500 street-bike for my daughter to learn to wrench and ride.

Modest Mike: Computer consulting, on-site repair and Webmaster services available.  Call 305-756-0148.  modestmike@hotmail.com , http://surf.to/modestmike .

 


May 15, 2000

The Way I See It by Modest Mike

There’s a fine line between sour-grapes and a cloud’s silver lining.  I got to feel the difference on a “just-for-the-hell-of-it” run toward Daytona last weekend.  It seems Uncle Willie borrowed a 1500 Vulcan-Drifter for a couple-o-days and helped Steve Miller (no, not the band) steal his Fxr’s  key from his ol’lady’s purse.  They showed up at my place with white teeth hankerin’ for some bug juice.  Not being one to like to say no to my crew, I saddled up and we were “Lunch in Daytona” bound.  My shovel ran good till about the time it ran the fuck out of gas.  We pulled over on the side of I-95 and while I scratched my head with one hand, I opened the tanks with the other.  Left-side was bone dry, when the hell did I start getting 20 miles/gallon?  Here we go, right-side is full to the rim.  Sumbitch crossover! 

It seems the tank sealer had lifted and blocked the hole for my crossover tube.  So we cut a piece of wire off a strategically placed fence and started to scratch around the bottom of the tank to try and dislodge the blockage.  Steve watched helpfully and Willie discovered what he was really looking forward to that day, something to bitch, moan and crank my ass about.  Moderate success followed and a small pool of gas formed in the bottom of the left tank.  I kicked her over and we started north again.  Ten miles down the road it took another dump.  We stopped and scratched our balls and the bottom of the tank again.  Of course, being on the side of the road instead of swilling beers at “Alley Cats” in Daytona wasn’t bad enough, so I was treated to another diatribe by Willie about how, out of all the silent bikes collecting dust in his shop, that my bike is a piece-o-shit.  Fortunately, I’m too busy trying to get gas from point-freakin-A to listen to what the old fart is saying and besides with all his hot air rising, it formed a venturi-effect and seemed to encourage a nice breeze.  

A few minutes passed and we noticed a rider slowing down to check on us.  He introduced himself as “Mike from Wings of Gold” and told us his clubhouse was just down the road.  Now I don’t usually change destinations in the middle of the river, but this sounded like the right place at the right time, so we got directions and limped on by.  We arrived in the middle of their "Eviction Party".  It seemed their asshole landlord (my words) was evicting them for making too much noise.  I immediately looked around and noticed that they were in a commercial warehouse district, surrounded by pine trees, without a damn house in sight.  So much for asshole landlords.  Well, it turns out that my bike gets fixed, and we get treated to beers, burgers and hotdogs, on the house.  

A BIG THANK YOU to Wings of Gold, Jupiter Chapter, President Max and Mike Mowry.  So in short, we blew off the Daytona trip, partied the afternoon away and headed back to Miami after making some new friends.  You meet the nicest people on a motorcycle.  

Remember, Ride HARD and FREE!  (BTW: I’m looking for a $500.00 street-bike for my daughter to learn to wrench and ride.  You can reach me at modestmike@hotmail.com or 305-756-0148.)


 

March 21, 2000

How To Live With A Neurotic Motorcycle

By GarryFxr: Additions by ModestMike

1.     Because it started yesterday and ran fine, don’t mean it will start today.

2.     Never presume you gotta move the car, move the bike, move the car back until you have actually STARTED THE BIKE.  Under NO circumstances, put on a jacket, scarf, boots, helmet, or gloves before the bike is running and is going to continue running.

 

3.     A fully charged battery is a delicate thing.  Cherish it now in its full flower, cuz tomorrow it will die for no apparent reason.

 

4.     Petcock "On" means prepare to switch to reserve at any moment, "Reserve" means "haha your stranded!".  The chances of your bike breaking down or running out of gas depends on how far you are from the nearest shop or gas station. 

5.     When stopping at the first major intersection of your ride, always wait for the bus or dump truck to pass before you find out that your carb’s accelerator pump is not working and is making your bike hack and cough like a 4-pack a day smoker.

 

6.     All owners of neurotic bikes have permanent scars on their calves.  The chances of your bike starting on the first kick is inversely proportional to the number of people watching, and worse, if you’re trying to impress them.

 

7.     You will find that at each stoplight that you approach, you unconsciously identify a good place to push and kick-start your bike If/When it stalls.

 

8.     You never notice the noise coming from the engine you rebuilt.

 

9.     Swearing never helps but it provides amusement for the neighbors, which will help off-set their deep hatred for you, cuz you come blasting back home from partying each morning at 4am.

 

10. At $8.00 to fill your fatbobs; public transportation, with a joint and a six-pack, starts to make sense.

 


March 15, 2000

The Way I See It by Modest Mike

Note: The opinions expressed here are not necessarily those of the WOTR management.

Congratulations goes to our publisher/editor, Miami Mike, for receiving what I believe is his first legal-hate-mail.  It seems that some comment by one of our feature writers pissed off some corporate-type-yuppie-scum and a letter from his solicitor was his response.  I want to thank Miami Mike for publishing the kind of rag where you can mouth off about what bothers you in the motorcycle world and, apparently, is read by bikers and anal-retentive folks too.

BikeWeek 2000 was a First in many respects this year.  The first in the Millenium.  The first shake-out run for my rebuilt shovel, the "HornDog Express".  And the first BikeWeek for my 18yr old daughter Megan and her friend Kristin. Thanks to caffeine, pizza delivery and Willie Woo's son Darren; a 2 day wrench marathon found my shovel had made it from a room full of parts to a running bike.  Cuz I only had time to put 100 miles on it before it was time to leave for Daytona on Thursday, we Tqueened it up with us behind Willie's van with Darren's YSR-400 inside.  On Friday, Darren and I motored over to Orlando and loaded up Megan on the back of my bike and Kristin on her Honda NightHawk. I swear that we had some of the best riding weather I've ever seen.  Blue skies with puffy white clouds, all the while a cool wind blowing the city cobwebs out of our heads.  Daytona was a pleasant 130 miles up the road and we made it back into town early. 

A special thank you goes to Joe Fitzgerald and his loving Shirley for opening their home to this vagabond and my female charges.  Because my annual income is very close to that of a street-bum, I'm always thankful when I can find a warm, dry place to crash that doesn't required vast quantities of cash.  I was VERY fortunate this year cuz not only was I welcomed into Joe & Shirley's home, Megan and Kristin were invited to stay in their daughters room, instead of having to camp in Willie's van.

BikeWeek certainly lived up to it's reputation this year, with the worst traffic I remember.  I set out for Main Street twice and aborted both missions, cuz A1A was a parking lot and my oil pressure gauge started showing the wrong side of 5 lbs. from the heat.  I made it there once on Saturday, after Willie and I hit the "Rat's Hole Show" and walked from there to Froggie's, Dirty Harry's and "the Boot".  Of course, BikeWeek also lived up to it's reputation there with more prime babe material than I see at Flossie's in 12 months.

There was also some prime material at the Rat's Hole Show this year.  Lot's of smoothed bikes with gallons of tricked paint.  My good friend Glenn "MAG" Kottman was there with his signature rides, the "Two-Timer" and "Alien".  I was happy to see lots of superchargers and NOS bottles, cuz life begins at 100 horsies.  A big HELLO to Karl "Big Daddy Rat" Smith, I'm sorry I missed you at the show, another job well done.

For the younger riders that might want to give Daytona a visit, I'll include some new riders views below:

Megan's Comments: This weekend has been quite eventful.  Meeting the local wildlife (Hi Uncle Willie!), spending quality father-daughter bonding time with my dad, riding bitch to Darren and my dad on Daddy's Harley, and drooling over a hell of a lot of bikes.  This vacation has been very different from how I grew up.  Cops as step-parents are not fun, and neither are anal-retentive, I mean loving, mothers.  No rules was the only rule this weekend.  Then as the Spring Break fun seemed to be coming to an end, Kris and I decided to make a week-long pit stop in Miami.  I'm finally back to where I came from.  Even if it is only for a week.  I hope any of you newcomers had as much fun as I did.  Also, I would like to say Thanks to "Shoiley" and Joe for making Kristin and me feel at home. 

Kristin's Comments: I'm in college, so I am all about parties, and this was a week-long, mother-load of a party.  Along with the stand-still traffic, the streets were packed with people all there for the same reasons: bikes and fun. Having only been a rider for a year and a half, I can't call myself a biker. But being on my bike at Bike Week made me feel at home, as if I was one of the crowd. The laid back attitude was everywhere, and that is what I loved the most (Along with the opportunity to meet the infamous Willie Woo, whose non-stop bantering definitely kept me on my toes).  As a side note, this year just happened to be the bloodiest Bike Week ever. Please be careful! Don't spoil someone else's fun by being careless.

So as you can see, BikeWeek 2000 was a hit with old and young alike.  Some of the best riding weather I can remember.  There was a little incident here and there, but what's Daytona without a little drama.  Apart from an annoying fuel problem with my bike, the shake-out run worked out well.  I was able to ride it back to Miami while we trailered Kristin's Honda back.  Hope you all made it home safe from "Biker's Spring Break 2000".  Till next time, ride HARD and FREE.

Modest Mike: Computer consulting, on-site repair and Webmaster services available.  Call 305-756-0148.  modestmike@hotmail.com, http://surf.to/modestmike .


Jan 16, 2000

The Way I See It by Modest Mike

My dad once told me, before he left this shitty world, that you should try and learn something new every day.  Now, every day is tough, so I’m concentrating on just trying to learn something new this millenium.  I picked learning the bass guitar.  My fingers look like the long, spindly legs of a young giraffe, trying to stand for the first time.  My teacher auto-pops a valium as I arrive for my lesson.  He confidently rips off a 1-4-5 blues riff and hands the guitar to me to struggle on finding 1 or 2 of the notes he smote with authority.  He smiles and looks kindly at me AND I KNOW WHAT HE’S THINKING, cuz that’s the way I look at the newbies on their 1st sled.

I’d almost forgot how truly terrifying learning something new can be.  How a good rider plays his bike like an instrument and to watch them ride is to watch Mr. Jimmi play his guitar.  Well, I don’t ride as well as that, but I hope you get the idea.  Back when I was playing road racer, Kenny Roberts was the yellow-leathered king.  He was one of the first to duct-tape his knees so he wouldn’t scrape all his leathers off.  I guess if I ever felt any kind of hero worship, it was with him and Hideo Yoshimura.  Now I’ve got my local guitar heroes and I’m rubbin’ shoulders with some of the tri-county’s best.  Sensei Dean Sire, Errol Howard, Johnny Sortor and Eddie Greg.

I got to admit that my stripped bike, the “Horndog Express”, is getting a little jealous of the time I spend practicing “the bass” (she don’t have a name yet), but maybe a little music will make me a gentler master.  At least it’s given me an empathetic view of new riders logging their first few thousand.  So, for all of you as new to bikes as I’m new to strings, Keep The Rubber Side Down, and Ride (&ride &ride &ride) HARD and FREE.

Modest Mike: Computer consulting, on-site repair and Webmaster services available.  Call 305-756-0148.  modestmike@hotmail.com, http://surf.to/modestmike .

 


Dec 6, 1999

The Way I See It by Modest Mike

Just got off the phone with my sister in Denver.  I was pissin’ and moanin’ to her about how bad the last couple years have been financially, and how close I had got to living under a bridge after I got screwed out of several handfulls of money in a couple of bizness deals.  I joked that I had decided a few years ago that eating my .45 was not the way to solve my problems and that, unfortunately, the only part of my childhood, christian brainwashing that stuck, was the part about, “thou not killing” the sombitches that had my bread. (Of course doin’ 7-10 without riding privileges helps a little too).  Then we got on the subject of how if I didn’t have two, 120lb. canine, doorbells in the yard, then my pistola would be within easy reach as we spoke, but because I felt save, it was all the way in the other room, on the bed where I sleep.  And then we talked about how my buddy had remarked to me at the bar how he was sitting in my chair, when I left the last chair next to the wall open for him to sit in.  Then we got on the subject of when was the last time I spoke with my 18yr old daughter.

I said, “Jesus Christ!  What do I have to say to her that will do anything but depress her and make me look even more crazy than the x-ol’lady has intimated?”  Should I tell her: That the world is ready to watch you die, just so they can have air-conditioning.  That the law puts you in jail for murder, not cuz it’s wrong, but because most of the time the guy you cap is a taxpayer that is worth about $250,000 each to the government in a lifetime of taxes and bloated public service salaries, not to mention court costs and attorney fees. That you’ve been dying from the moment your mom puked you out and you better figure out what’s important to you and make that your reason to live.  That people hate anybody who is different, not cuz anyone is truly inferior to anybody else, just cuz it’s easier for people to hate than to love.  That being normal is bad, cuz being normal is just being one of the sheep. That the Holidays are for showing your love for your immediate and extended family, not for going into freakin’ debt.

Well, it seems my sister has to hang up now … I don’t blame her, she lives in a nice town, in a nice house, with 3 nice children and a nice husband.  They both worked for the city government at one time, they’ve got money in the bank, they roll up their sidewalk at 9pm, they drive a nice car, they love Clinton and hate guns.  They don’t care if Bill pounded Monica, they don’t care if he and Hilary had some interesting bizness deals while he was governor, they don’t drive their nice car into “bad” areas.  They want to work for themselves, but can’t figure out how to make near what the city pays. 

Funny, I can’t seem to figure out how to make near what the government pays either.  At least not after paying incorporation fees, rent, utilities, liability insurance, car insurance, health insurance, life insurance, employee 941 payments, employee FICA, employee social security payments, inventory costs, vehicle maintenance, State Sales tax and Fed income tax.

Hey, wait a minute, I figured out something to tell my daughter!  JOIN THE FREAKIN’ AIR-FORCE !!!! 

Till next time, Ride HARD and FREE !

Modest Mike: Computer consulting, on-site repair and Webmaster services available.  Call 305-756-0148.  modestmike@hotmail.com, http://surf.to/modestmike .

 


Nov 8, 1999

The Way I See It by Modest Mike

Just returned from Biketoberfest and thought I’d take a moment to reflect.  I guess the biggest impressions were that it was a real bitch to find a parking place for the cage this year.  "Permit Parking" only signs are all over the streets just north and south of Main Street.  At least the bars and sidewalks weren’t too crowded.  I almost freaked out when I saw the Corbin “Palace”, just another example of what the corporate profit-takers & the rolex-riders have done to the lifestyle.  (By the way, both of the overpriced Corbin seats I’ve had have split at the seems after only two years of use.)

On a sadder note, I heard that at least two riders died this year.  I heard that one guy was haulin’ up a line of traffic when another rider changed into his lane, the first guy struck the one changing lanes and ricocheted into a pole with mortal effect.  Now I’m not gonna lecture about haulin’ ass around town, cuz I do it all the time.  What I’m gonna say is that, in all my years of riding, this example is one of the most common “accidents-waiting-to-happen” that I’ve seen.  Back when I used to frequent the “Saturday Night Ride” in Miami, this was the single biggest threat of the evening.  Yeah, maybe you’d think you were going fast by doing 90 or 100 down the road in the middle of a pack, but some other guy would be doing 120 coming up next to you from the rear of the pack.  Even with jap-mirrors it’s hard to see detail at these speeds, so use what little sense God gave ya.  Next time your flyin’ about town on your crotch-rocket, expect some newbie or law-abiding rider or cager to expect you to be going the speed limit.  Leave your lane-splittin’, ass-haulin’ for an un-crowded interstate highway or for when your riding with fast-company that you know is experienced.

I was happy to see many of my friends at the Abate rights run at Holiday Park.  I knew that I would enjoy myself at the party that follows the run and I was not disappointed.  The only thing that bothered me was seeing sooo many people headed back east so early in the day.  I sure don’t understand why they were leaving early, cuz the weather turned to a nice sunny afternoon and I had no problems enjoying the folks and biker games.  Maybe they don’t realize that a big part of the life includes just hanging out with your Brothers and Sisters, while the beverages cool, the smokes rises and the band jams. 

Congratulations are in order, as it was a pleasure to see a few patch-holders moving up through the ranks in their clubs.  Most riders can only guess at the dedication it takes to wear colors every day, in a world that still considers bikers an undesirable element.  Of course, being an “outsider” can be a compliment, if it’s from the normal crap that the “establishment” tries to jam down our throats at times.  The world operates on a power trip of it’s own and if it can’t manipulate you with money, it will try to yank your chain with derision or worse.  So for a short, sunny afternoon we had our own little world where black shirts and jeans were the norm.  If you weren’t there, you missed seeing Brothers wearing different colors with their arms on each others shoulders, an example the outside world would be better off following.  Remember to ride HARD and FREE!

Modest Mike: Computer consulting, on-site repair and Webmaster services available.  Call 305-756-0148.  mmike@gate.net, http://surf.to/modestmike .

 


Sep 18, 1999

Latitudes & Attitudes by Modest Mike

Words, words, words, useless as tits on a boar.  We all know that actions speak louder than words, but sometimes, what’s whispered is important too.  You picked up this rag to either share some ideas, catch news of the local parties or to have something to place at the bottom of the bird-cage.  If you’re here for the first reason, I’m here for you.  If you’re here for the last reason, please place this article face up.

I’ve been listening lately and have this to share with you.  Don’t bother wracking your brain about whether you’ve heard these before, cuz you have. I have blatantly ripped them off and changed them to suite my purposes.

Iron Horse: by me & Motorhead

He rides the roads that don’t have no end

An open highway without any bends

Vibrating stallion, Alone in a dream

Proud of his colors, hard in the turns he leans

          On an iron horse he flies

          On an iron horse he gladly dies

          Iron Horse he drives

          Iron Horse he glides

He lives his life, he lives large and fast

He don’t try to hide from the dice that are cast

He rides a whirlwind that cuts to the bone

High revs forever and righteously stoned

          On an iron horse he flies

          On an iron horse he gladly dies

          Iron Horse he drives

          Iron Horse he glides

One day, one day he’ll go for some fun

His Bros together they’ll fly on the eternal run

Wasted forever on speed, bikes and booze

They’re traveling as Brothers all born to lose

          On an iron horse he flies

          On an iron horse he gladly dies

          Iron Horse he drives

          Iron Horse he glides

 

BTR-RTL: by me & Lau Tsu

Give up desire and put an end to your troubles.

Is there a difference between bondage and death?

Is there a difference between good and evil?

Must I fear true freedom like others fear? What nonsense!

Other people are contented, enjoying the sacrificial feast of the taxpayer.

They see not that the hunger in them is the hunger they condemn in others.

In spring some go to the park and climb the terrace,

But I alone devour life all the seasons, not knowing where I am.

Like a newborn babe before it learns to smile,

I am alone, without a place to go or chains to bind.

Unencumbered by desire, caressed in the wind.

Others have more than they need, but I have nothing.

I am a fool. Oh, yes! They say I am confused.

Other men are clear and bright, but see not their folly.

But I alone am dim and weak.

Other men are sharp and clever, but admit not their intrigue.

But I alone am dull and stupid.

Oh, I drift like the waves of the sea,

Riding without direction like the restless wind.

Everyone else is busy,

But I alone am aimless in my riding.

I am different.

I am nourished by the great asphalt ribbon.

 

Till next time remember : Live HARD and FREE!