it's all about your crew!

...... and who we choose to surround ourselves with!  Sure there are times when things are good and we let our guard down and a scumbag or two slips through the cracks, but they are inevitably found out to be just that and like a malignant tumor, we cut them out of our lives, hope that the cancer didn't spread and count our blessings that we were able to catch the malignancy fast enough before any real damage could be done or before it poisoned any vital organs!  Rather than look back and worry about what may have happened we look forward and that is what separates us from the rest of the citizenry out there!  We, BIKERS are a different kind of people, we are formed in a very different style mold than others and for that, we should be very proud!

About two weeks ago, a post was put up on face book about Cycle Source Magazine's, Big Mountain Run.  Earlier in the year, I had big hopes and aspirations about riding cross country to attend this event that I had heard so very much about.  From the time that I had made my initial plans to the time that post was put up, LIFE HAPPENED as it usually does and it seemed that there was no way on earth that I was going to be able to attend the event, much less ride to it!  I answered that thread and said that it doesn't look like I will be making the run, that the knuck had a horrible noise and the fxrs was not quite ready for a cross country trip.  It looked like I wouldn't see any of my friends until Born Free at best.  The first post under mine was Chris from Cycle Source asking what he could do to help me get out there and that was followed up by Mailman.  I thought to myself, how nice, at the very least, I will be missed right?  Then a little "1" popped up on my home page over the mail box.  It was a message from Mailman and it simply said, if you can make it to Atlanta, YOU CAN RIDE MY SHOVELHEAD!  Well my friends, this was enough to entice this ol' scooter jockey to respond.  "OH REALLY", I believe was what I sent back.  If you fly in to Atlanta, I will pick you up at the airport, take you back to my place and in the morning we can ride out to Tennessee.  "No shit, really"?  That is very kind of you, let me look in to airfare and such and see what I could come up with.  As luck would have it, flights were available and the fares were not all that bad.  I began to get a bit excited at the prospect that I would not be missing my first BMR!  I also became excited with the prospect of putting a thousand miles or so on an old shovel.  Sure as shit, true to his word, waiting for me in the Atlanta Airport when I arrived was Mailman and his buddy Phil Sims.  We have to pick up a transmission if that is okay with you?  If it's okay with me?  You just battled rush hour traffic to pick me up, to allow me to stay in your home with your family and then loan me one of your most prized possessions, okay with me, hell, I don't care if we have to go steal a transmission, I AM IN & IT IS SURE AS SHIT COOL WITH ME!!!  We stopped and picked up the tranny and headed back to Phil's shop.  When we arrived and pulled in the back of the building, I got a chill down my spine!  They have taken me to this God forsaken spot to kill themselves a Yankee and get some pay back, I THINK THE SOUTH WAS ABOUT TO RISE AGAIN!

Oh yeah, for sure I was going to be chopped up in to little pieces and welded up in to a 55 gallon drum.  My brain started to race, were these guys related to some girl whose heart I broke many years ago and she was just waiting to get even?  This was her opportunity to bring me across the country where I would never be found.  Hell, what crazy white boy would be nuts enough to come around this "hood" anyway?  I slowly got out of the car quickly trying to assess which would be the best direction to run in when I heard them light the torch?  Phil had a line up of old cars, trucks and campers out by the door to bait me in and I was taking the bait!  As you can see from the above pics, this is the shit that was just left laying outside, what I found when I walked through the doors quickly took my attention from escape route to I HAVE TO SEE THAT!  What an amazing old building and it was filled to capacity with nothing but super cool shit!  I walked straight in right past the first bad ass car to look at a bunch of tins and assorted other HARLEY GOODIES laying about, all with fresh paint on them.  What a spectacular job Phil did with these and hell, they were not even finished yet!

What truly blew me away though was what was just past those Harley parts.  A T bucket that was nothing short of insane. You know how on hot rods and pick up trucks, especially down south, the driver would always paint his name on the door and he would paint his girl's name on the passenger door?  Then as time went by, trouble would arise between the couple, usually because he loved that damn car or truck more than he loved that girl.  The ultimatum would be given, either THE CAR GOES OR I DO!  Well that ultimatum had been given to Phil as well.  I could tell you more, but hey, it's easier to show you.  Here is how Phil responded to those very threats;

As you can see, he put his Given Name on the drivers door!

 ..... and also as you can plainly see here, Phil does not respond well to ultimatums!  The car or me?

Phil really does some amazing work in that shop.  The car was called the "TACO TRAPPER" and I believe that this bad bitch has lived up to its name and then some!  Along with the cool, comes the strange.  Once you continue past the bucket you enter in to what would be the Studio, if you will.  Obviously the bed in the middle "for photo shoots" grabbed my attention for sure but I have to say that I think it was the damn near life sized SPACE SHIP mounted to the wall that truly grabbed my attention.

If you are down in Atlanta and need to get hooked up with someone who obviously has mad skills, then you need to check Phil and his shop out.  Thanks Mailman for taking me there and thank you and Phil both for not chopping me up and putting me in to a drum and throwing me in the swamp, it won't soon be forgotten.

We pulled out of the shop and I was relieved and stoked at the same time.  What did Mailman have in store for me next?  We arrived at Chateau De' Mailman and I must admit, it was sweet.  When you hang with and all your friends are "dirty ass bikers", you really never know what to expect when you are heading to some one's home that you have never visited yet.  The more hardcore the guy, the less you expect in "quality" of living conditions.  Once again, I was surprised beyond my wildest dreams.  As we pulled in the driveway, the garage door opened and there she was, one of the purtiest, bad ass shovels that I have seen in a long time.  Everything about this bike was absolutely perfect!  As I stood there gawking like a pedophile at a grammar school field day, Mrs. Mailman or better known as the Mailbox, came out and gave me a huge hug and welcomed me to her home!  What a fine example of southern hospitality!  I unloaded my bags, went in the house and was given the LAZY BOY for my very own "base of operations", until it was time to go.  I unzipped my big ass suitcase and as my small way of saying thank you, I dished out some I KNOW JACK SHIT HOODIES and gave their beautiful and talented daughter Darci a Jack Shit shirt of her very own, although, I don't know where a kid can wear one out to, but hell, that will be her problem.  I am thinking college interviews will be the perfect place to wear it!  Within moments, the hospitality reared its head again when a 36 lb burritto was placed in front of me and I was asked, "ya hungry"?  Well, not that hungry!  I could have eaten that thing all week long.  This woman was so kind and such an excellent host it was amazing.  Cheryl had read a post I had written asking about stores near the BMR.  I don't drink coffee, instead in the morning, I start my day off with a can of Rockstar and on the door of the fridge was a four pack.  This lovely southern belle had gone ahead and picked up a box of Rockstars for me.....  my heart was full of love and my belly full of food, what a welcome.  In the morning we would head off and meet up with Jeremy and friends from Muttin Cycles so we had to get to bed reasonably early.  Only one problem with that, I am on west coast time.  I had not slept since Sunday night and it was now 3 am on Wednesday morning, I was wide awake and I had to get up in 4 hours or so to start the trip, not good!  Excitement won over and in just a few hours, I was up and ready to ride.  Only one problem, it was 43 degrees in warm and wonderful Atlanta!  Two pair of socks, two pair of jeans, 3 shirts and an I know Jack Shit Hoodie, topped off with a goretek neck warmer and wool skull cap and two pair of gloves and I was ready to go.  Okay, one more problem, I had so many layers of clothes on, I could barely get my leg over the bike to ride.  I managed and we were off!

We hit the road and we were off!  The bike rode like a wet dream and it was the very first time that I had ever ridden a pogo seat for any distance.  IT WAS AMAZING!  The bike was a total pleasure to ride and the crew I was riding with was stellar.  An old biker like me could not have asked for anything more than to be atop a bad ass scooter riding the twisties with a few good ol' boys!

All we needed now was for the sun to come out and for my balls to drop back in to their rightful place between my legs instead of hiding from the cold up somewhere in my lower ab region!  So how about the ride, how about Wheels Through Time and how about the BIG MOUNTAIN RUN you ask, well I guess you will have to pick up the next issue of CYCLE SOURCE MAGAZINE to read about that.  Just as I was getting ready to pull on out of Reliance, Tennessee, Chris asked me to write about the event from my perspective!  To say that I was honored would be an understatement.  I get to write about the best time that I have had in a very long time and I get to share it with the world in my favorite Bike Mag, what could possibly be better I ask?  So don't forget to watch out for BMR coverage in Cycle Source Magazine! 

To brother Mailman, none of this would have been possible without you.  For your girl Cheryl or The Mailbox, thank you so much for your hospitality, I only hope to repay it soon.  For the rest of your crew down there in Atlanta and beyond, thank you for welcoming me in to the fold!  You guys gave me some memories that I won't forget and some riding that when I close my eyes still makes me feel like I am in the saddle. 

I can't wait until the next BMR and that is a fact but even more, I can't wait to ride side by side with this crew again!

Until we see each other on the road,

Keep the wind in your face,
Tits in your back
and The Man off your ass!

Your friend,
Jack Shit