Chester the Molester Sings

A few months ago Brother F Bomb and myself rode up to Flagstaff, Az., to catch up with the riders on The Cannonball. We left Phoenix and it was 112 degrees. We arrived in Flagstaff and it was 28 degrees. We arrived around midnight or so. Upon pulling up in front of the hotel door we immediately ran into Chicky from Vagabond and Pat Simmons from the Doobie Brothers, both exceptional people. We hung out till around 3 or 4 am and then crashed for a bit. In the morning after watching all the bikes leave the temps made it up to around 50 or so and we pulled out as well. By the time we reached Kingman, the temps had risen back up 99. As I pulled off of the highway I could feel it more and more difficult to keep the old knuck running and she was smoking like mad.

I got into the parking lot at the Harley Dealer, it was a designated stop for the racers and a great place to tighten nuts and check fluids. I rolled in, took my hand off of the throttle and my bike died right there. I got off her and went to kick her back over and the kicker felt like it was damn near welded in place. Oh no! I had gotten jammed up running low on oil and I could not get straight 50 weight and this "old bike" mechanic (allegedly) explained to me in no uncertain terms that the new W50's were just fine and they would mix with the straight already in the bike. I found this hard to believe but after a long debate and not having any other choice, I ran the oil. Well the result was damn near boiling the motor. The oils didn't "blend" together and I may as well ran it with no oil at all. We snuck our way into the service dept. and rolled her up onto a lift. Sadly the "mechanics" at the dealer didn't realize that I was not in the race on my 1947 knuckle because the race was 1915 and older bikes, they didn't know the difference. To make a long story short, we drained all the oil, replaced it with fresh straight 50, tightened down all we could and the bike fired right up. I jumped on her and tore down the road but she really didn't want to stay running. I had two choices to choose from and a decision needed to be made on the spot. Take off on her through grueling 115 degree temps on rt. 66 into Oatman and Laughlin and decimate a running knuck and be stuck in the desert or leave her in the service dept. until the following day and come back for her. Brother Bomb said why ruin a great party? We will go on to Laughlin, party our asses off and in the morning he would go all the way back to Phoenix, get his truck and come back for me and the bike. Really? Wow! What a gesture of true friendship! That is what we did. I hitched a ride with a Cannonball support vehicle and we partied our asses off and stuck to the plan. My bike had ridden through a temp. change of nearly 160 degrees in 16 hours, Arizona is insane!

By 11am, I had no choice but to leave our hotel. I was out on the streets of Laughlin and it was insane hot and I am now carrying on my back everything that I had packed on the bike. Yes, I looked homeless and the local homeless population noticed too. I started getting some real hard looks like I was invading their territory and no matter where I walked I would find one or more "locals" following me. I am not much of a gambler, at least when it comes to games of chance, with my life yes, with my money not so much. I ate lunch but realized that it would be at the very least another 4 to 5 hours before I was rescued. I could not sit in the sun any longer. I went into the Pioneer Hotel and had some lunch. Oh great only 4.5 hours left to wait. I reached out to F Bomb on the phone and he told me that the one and only road to get there was closed because of a horrific head on collision and he may not make it at all. Not such good news, worse yet, the entire town of nothing but hotel rooms was sold out.... DOOMED!

The night before while hanging in the Aquarius Casino, Bean're, Bomb and myself met this nice Country girl, her boyfriend and her mom. They were very friendly as most country folk are. I asked what they were doing in such an evil place as Laughlin and they told us that they were here for like 8 days and they were competing in the Western United States Karaoke Championship or some shit.... Wow, these fuckers are serious about Karaoke, who would have thought it? Well now I can sit at a slot machine for the next 24 hours, I can go and try and find a nice cardboard box to sleep in, I could go blow Asian men for a few extra bucks or I could pay 15 bucks and go into the Karaoke contest up stairs in the ballroom? Well the ballroom it was! Dark, cool and comfortable, it had my name written all over it. With the exception of course that I looked and felt like homeless guy. At least I had showered before being evicted. I was now a man with a plan! I had a full belly and a comfy place to hang until my rescue truck arrived. To say that the people in this show were freaks would be an understatement of all understatements, sweet 5lb 4oz baby Jesus were these people serious about Karaoke. I know this was a long story to get you to a very short video but you have got to check out this guy singing. What I thought would be a great way to spend an otherwise screwed up day quickly became torture. This pedophile looking son of a bitch was probably the more "normal" of the crowd. Well you judge for yourself and understand before you even watch it, I was hot, tired, cranky, abandoned and trapped. I just call it like I see it is all. Like it reads before you enter this page, brutal honesty is all you will ever get from me.... it's only a minute and a half video but you can hear by my tone of voice that I am not the happiest of campers...... Hope you enjoy it.