Thursday, March 22, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
In a parallel world from "White Bike Week" exists Black Bike Week, there is zero attitude, flashier colors, WAAAAY better music and seriously smiley faces, we passed thru on the way to the notorious Crook's Den, where no pictures were taken but memories made. A bartender had shorts clean down exposing her magnificent butt, I said to her, "you know your pants are half way off?" She said, "yeah, I got a stove top burn on my ass it hurts to pull my shorts up." I looked at the red spiral and said, "nah that's a tattoo." She said "no it's a burn." I looked closer it was a burn, I don't even wanna know how it got there.
We rode past Daytona Dave's on the way to Willie's but he wasn't there, after we left Willie's this loud as hell KZ 1000 pulls up next to us and I look and see it's Dave with his girlfriend on the back. We rode up to the fiasco that is Destination Daytona and went back to Daves. On the way there Jim suddenly had no gears, lookit the linkage came out. Dave's place is amazing, it's a compound filled to the brim with incredible machinery, a 55 Chevy here, a 392 Hemi powered deuce 5 window there, a KZ built 30 years ago with a Vertex mag, all kindsa good shit and an attack dog called Sheba to let you know to stay the fuck away.
Spent all day in the sweltering heat riding around with Indian Jim, a constant and true companion, his old timey wisdom and knowledge inspires us young 50 year olds. These pics were taken at Willie's Tropical Tattoo, I think I like old bobbers that tell a story rather than choppers these days. What's the deal with the 13 pool ball as a p-pad?
The cute gal with Jim is Toots, a singing sensation.