A Friday Classic from Workingmans Dead.
A Friday Classic from Workingmans Dead. Read More »
Born a Biker: Mike Frew
Editors note: Mike has been a long time follower of this blog, and maybe the biggest die hard rider that I've known. He's been known to put a lot of miles down at any given time, and my only complaint with him is he keeps showing me roads in my own backyard that somehow I've missed. I've been asking him to give me his story for a while.
Following the Front Wheel….
I have been wanting to put to print these recollections of my motorcycle life for some time. After some prodding by Alan Dunn it is finally a reality!
I was 6 years old when my uncle put me on the back of his 53 Indian for a 5 mile trip to town and that first ride created a memory that I have revisited so many times, and yet it never wears out.
It wasn’t until four years later(1960) that three of the local riff-raff in my small coal mining town had Harley Panhead dressers that I would see parked together around town, but for some reason, never riding thru town. I knew at that point I wanted to ride something faster than my bicycle. A friend of mine a year older than me had a 1964, 90cc Honda. In 1965 he loaned me his bike, he borrowed one and we rode 100 miles to an amusement park. It was the first time I ever operated a bike and I wasn’t old enough to have a license. I damn near hit a car head on when I crossed the center line on a hard corner but I eventually understood that “close” does not count when it comes to accidents. In the Spring of 1966 I finally got my first bike, a new 1965 Honda 90cc street bike for $400.00. The first week out of tenth grade I took off from PA with the same friend and we rode to Daytona Beach on the two Hondas. One thousand miles of two lane US 1. The Hondas would hit 60mph with a good tailwind and going downhill, but 55 mph was a more realistic top speed and they got 85 mpg. So off I went on my first big road trip. I had 30 dollars in my pocket, a blanket, a small bag with a toothbrush and a change of clothes. I spent 10 dollars on gas going down and back with some in and around miles while there. We slept on the beach and every night locals would come down and light bonfires and share food, which amounted to hot dogs and wine. We bought hot dogs every day to bring to the fire and by the time we headed for PA 5 days later, we spent another $5.00 on food. I later learned those bonfires were used by the fishing boats to determine distance to the shore. We rode straight thru, down and back which took 24 hours each way, and I spent a few dollars on the road for candy bars and soda pop. I arrived home the day before I started my summer job and still had $9.00 of the original $30.00. We repeated this trip that same summer a week before we went back to school. Those first two trips are still some of the best times I had on a motorcycle. My friend who first got me on a bike passed a few years ago and I regret I never looked him up years later to relive some truths of the trip. If you shared some great times with good people don’t wait to reconnect with them. I blew up the motor on that Honda shortly after getting back from Florida in ’66 which turned into a nasty war of words with American Honda as they didn’t want to honor the warranty. They claim I abused the motor, I claimed it was normal wear and tear. I lost the war and moved on to a 1949 Panhead that a friend said needed a new transmission. I paid $75.00 for the bike and when I opened the primary the primary chanin was laying on the bottom. The new chain cost me exactly what I paid for the bike and I was back in business. I rode it for one summer and my friend bought a new 350 Honda and he beat me in a few drag races so the Panhead had to go. I bought a new 1968 Honda 350 Scrambler and my buddy could still beat me in a drag race! Not long after he blew the thing up and I found out from the dealer he was mixing alcohol in his fuel and burned two perfect dime size holes in the pistons. That Honda ran like a scalded dog, if only for a relatively short time! This time it was a lesson I’m glad I didn’t have to learn on my own! I sold the 350 Honda in late 68 and became a Private in the US Army in January 1969. I didn’t ride again until 1973 when I bought a new 1972 Sportster. It was a great bike and I had it until 1976 when I got a new 76 Dyna Fat Bob. That Dyna bike broke my heart! It was my dream bike turned into a nightmare. The first 6 times I took it out for a ride it broke down! Three times the coil went bad, twice the carb vibrated off and another time it fouled a plug. I got disgusted and sold the bike and bought a slightly used Kawasaki KZ900. I pounded that bike for 10 years without a problem other than it had a lot of frame flex that would sometimes create a death wobble above 85mph. It scared me more than a few times but I soon got the hand of bringing it off the shakes. For twenty five years the fastest I had ever gone on a bike was that Kaw and I had it at or a little above 135 mph a few times. When I see one today I’m puzzled as to why I am still alive.
I had a family when I had the Kaw and with the responsibility of providing and I eventually sold it to a guy on installments who must of fogot he owed me the money. Lesson number 2! For the next 15 years I bought street and dirt bikes that were seriously neglected and repaired them for resale. I always had 4 or 5 bikes in stages of repair and 1 or 2 for sale. They provided a few hundred dollars a month of needed funds and kept me engaged in what I loved doing. With the kids raised and a life altering divorce, I was left to my own devices which took me down the path of riding motorcycles and consuming alcoholic beverages. Mixing the two over the next 7 years brought me some of the most rewarding and some of the most disheartening moments of my life. Bikes owned during those seven years were a Suzuki 700cc, 1400cc, 1500cc, a 95′ HD Softail Custom, a 355HP Boss Hoss, a 2001 HD FLHT Standard and a ’62 Panhead. I rode everyone of those bikes, except the Boss Hoss across the US. I did have that Boss Hoss up to 145 mph, the fastest ever on 2 wheels for me! Friends lost over those 7 years are more than I care to count but not more than I care to remember. It was also during this time two friends and myself started hanging out calling ourselves the “Lonesome Losers”! It was mostly an excuse to ride and drink beer. We had great times and we did plenty of riding/drinking and there were a lot of folks that we met along the way who felt they fit the mold. As with everyone who passes thru this life some stick and some keep searching. Either way I hope they all find what they are looking for. If not, keep searching cause these perfect moments in time that come around in life, show up either, when least expected or when needed most. If I had not survived those times I surely would not want my friends to feel guilt over not intervening when they could have.
In the words of Robert Hunter:
There is a road, no simple highway,
Between the dawn and the dark of night.
And if you go, no one may follow,
That path is for your steps alone.(Grateful Dead, Ripple)
All I can derive from learning lesson #3 was that it was expensive, in more ways than monetarily.
At the end of this period I met my 2nd wife who absolutely saved me from myself. My riding today is much less about bar to bar and more about coast to coast and all the great people and places between that this country has to offer. Maturity has nothing to do with the wanderlust, although advancing age does! Currently I am riding at any given time an ’05 HD FLHT Classic, a ’99 BMW R1100RT, and the 62 Panhead, still. I also in the last few years had or have a 76 BMW 600cc, 81 BMW, R65, 68 BSA 250cc, 72 Yamaha XS 650 and a 85 BMW K100. This Fall I am planning on riding in Mississippi and visit gravesites of as many Delta blues artists as I can find. In 2021 I am in the early stages of planning to ride the 62 Panhead from Ballarat, CA to New Orleans to retrace the route of the movie Easy Rider with Alan Dunn. I became aware of Alan thru his blog, years ago while researching some info on Route 66. That led me to his Easy Rider blog of which he is an authority on all things related to the film.
In the mean time, follow that front wheel!
Mike “No Rush” Frew
Born a Biker: Mike Frew Read More »
I will sail my vessel
This song, just kind of feels right tonight.
I will sail my vessel Read More »
My Sheriff.
Never been a big cop guy, but these are different times. I’ve also never thought I’d be sincerely concerned that the US would become a socialist country. Things change, and anyone who defends the constitution is a friend of mine.
I got called “simple” the other day because of my support. heh, simple. It sorta made me laugh.
Anyway, this is my Sherriff, and it’s why he’s running undisputed. I love the guy. This attitude is largely why I live here.
Can I say a thing? I’m a business guy, and so I pay more attention to the numbers than I do the hype.
Do some research: Start, at the center of disease control: check my facts — tell me if I’m full of shit.
in 2010-2011 – up to 51,000 people died of the flu. We didn’t shut down for this, you didn’t even know.
in 2011-2012 – up to 23,000 died from the flu.
In 2012-2013 – up to 57,000 died from the flu.
In 2013-2014 – up to 38, 000 died from the flu.
in 2014-2015 – up to 51,100 people died from the flu.
in 2015-2016- up to 23,000 people died from the flu.
In 2016-2017 – up to 38,000 people died from the flu.
in 2017 – 2018 – The numbers almost doubled: up to 61,000 people died of the flu.
in 2018 – 2019 – up to 34,000 people died of the flu.
Then, we politicized it. Or did we?
So far, 135,000 people have died of the coronavirus. A little over twice what happened in 2018.
My brother in law owns several mortuaries in Northern Utah. He hasn’t buried anyone who has had it.
I have one friend on facebook, who has claimed to have it, and he said he didn’t even end up in bed for the 2 days he felt bad. It scared the shit out of him I think.
Seems like this virus is 3x worse than the average virus (at best) and none of those pandemics shut down the country, or send everyone into a mask wearing tailspin.
I won’t wear one, thats all I know. Fuckem. I know my rights.
Anyway, Just a thought. Aside from where you’re scared, tell me where I’m wrong.
Common sense: It’s a rare commodity.
Happy 4th!
Looking forward to the 4th this year. We’ve planted some roots now with the new house and they’re starting to take hold. I’ve already mapped out our line of sight for the fireworks on Google Maps, and we’ll be able to see them fine from the backyard. My oldest daughter and her new family just recently moved a couple miles away, so they’ll be here and we’ll hang out. I’m sure I’ll find something to either throw on the smoker or the grill, and we’ll just enjoy the day. My granddaughter is slowly realizing that the tattoo’d bearded bald guy isn’t all that scary, and I’m enjoying the hell out of her. I’ve Never been called “pop-pop” by a tiny little one who has some of my genes, and I gotta tell you….I kinda dig it. The whole damn thing is Hard to beat.
This fourth, I think holds a little more meaning to me. I am, and have always been proud to be an American.
If lines are being drawn out there, I draw my lines on this side.
I hope all you biker pricks all enjoy yourselves!
Been thinking about my next ride.
It woke me up in the middle of the night last night.
I could use a little Texas. I posted that last video of Merle Haggard, and realized how dumb it was that I hadn’t ever been there. It’s 900 miles away. There’s a lot of roads in between here and there I’ve never been on.
I’d also like to go back to Marfa. And Alpine Texas seemed pretty cool.
I rolled the past the Judge Roy Bean Museum in Langtry, and didn’t stop. The home of Judge Roy Bean. That shit has haunted me. There’s a lot of good stories in there.
I need to scout the perimeter.
Really, Fuck New Mexico. There, I said it. They smoke a lot of weed there and sit around and paint pictures, and I find i’m not all that interested.
But Texas? I need to go.
Been thinking about my next ride. Read More »
Maybe its time we got back to the Basics.
I know I’ve said this before, but I’m sick of seeing the world on fire. So, I’ve stopped watching.
The news has become retarded. Remember the Jerry Springer show? Where nazi’s would throw chairs, or they’d pit black vs white, or whatever they could find? Good, decent people didn’t watch it, because it was inflammatory. The Jerry Springer and their producers did it to get ratings. Yeah, thats the news now.
Social media: It was great when it started: A place to get connected with old friends, and see what everyone was up to. Now? it’s the lord of the Flies. I started muting everyone that didn’t say something positive, and I’m almost down to just advertisements from Harbor Freight, Home Depot and Harley Davidson.
The truth, as much as I hate to say it is usually found in the middle.
I’m getting back to the basics. And I’m enjoying it more.
Maybe its time we got back to the Basics. Read More »
Riding route 66
Glad I was able to get out a couple of weekends ago. It was a short ride, but any overnight ride you can get is good. I’d been completely burned out on my Job, The whole Covid-19 thing, the state of the world and just feeling trapped at home was weighing on my soul. Having been me for 53 years, I knew a good overnight ride was just what I needed. Somehow, It’d reset a thing.
The night before a good ride is like Christmas morning expecting Santa; You wake up several times, check the time and try to go back to sleep. By 4:30, I’d said fuckit and made a pot of coffee, showered, and started to load the bike. By 5:30 AM the sun had started cracking over the Superstition Mountains. The day was clear, and it was only 75 degrees. I kissed Missus Zip goodbye, and backed my bike out of the driveway.
I hit US60, and headed west towards the other side of the Valley of the Sun. The road were a lot less crowded than they usually are at 5 AM. Signs of people working from home.
I hit interstate 10 and headed west. Phoenix is a great big Valley. From where I’m at on the east side, its almost 100 miles to what you could call the west side. 80 miles of that is suburbs, downtown and everything else. The parts of Arizona I like the best are the rural parts, and where people start to get interesting. That’s where my ride really started to get good, once I got through the city.
I left the 10, and headed northwest toward Salome AZ. It had warmed up quite a bit, but as I rose out of the desert floor it started getting cooler as I headed toward old highway 60.
I’m regretting I didn’t spend some more time along that stretch, as I write this. There were some cool old signs, and some old stories I’m sure. I’ll have to go back at check it out.
I finally hit Lake Havasu and the parker dam around 10 AM or so. I was getting hungry, but I figured I’d save my money and pay it in Oatman. With the travel ban, covid and everything I figured they could use the money.
I love the history of Lake Havasu: it was a town of a few hundred when The McCullough chainsaw founder decided he wanted to buy London Bridge and make a thing here. London wanted to sell it, and he bought it for 2.4 million dollars. He then tagged it, brick by brick and brought it to Arizona. Everyone thought he was nuts. He brought it here, and the town exploded from there. Hell, my wifes grandma bought a lot in town, in the 1970s to retire, and lived there till the day she died. Seems like a little vision, can go a long way.
The BBC did a pretty good article about McCulloch and Lake Havasu a few years ago, check it out. It’s a cool story. Much respect to that guy. Hell, he started a town.
I hit Topock and the Colorado River on the edge of the state.
Took some pictures, and headed up through Golden Shores and Oatman. A great ride. This was route 66 from the 1920s to the 1950s. It was the way the okies from the dustbowl came, as they worked their way to California for a new life. It’s twisty and hot, with great scenery and hot temperatures. I remember my first trip through here; this road was dirt, and largely forgotten. The resurgence of route 66 brought it alive again, and its a great road now.
By the time I hit Oatman, I was ready for some food. I’d gone through all my beef Jerky, and my water was gone. A little time out of the sun would be good as well.
Since I first got the route 66 bug back in the late 80s, I’ve seen a steady increase of growth and resurgence on route 66. It’s usually pretty well traveled, but not that day. It was dead. I was the only bike in town, and a couple of cars at best. Only a few shops open, and after walking the town I realized I wasn’t going to be eating here. I spoke to a couple of business owners there and asked they were concerned about how they were going to make it. I know how these small little tourist towns are, and how difficult it is to run a small business. I left half sad, but mostly pissed off that we’ve made this virus into something that will fuck a persons livelihood over.
I rode down the mountain with that thought, fairly pissed off the whole way. My thought’s were, and still are: How did we get to this point? We’ve had pandemics before, but somehow this one got “branded”. Hell, in 1968 we had a flu that wiped out a million people. We’ve had a lot of other diseases that didn’t show up on peoples radars over the years that have killed people too. The common flu kills at least 70,000 people a year. We’ve overcome worse pandemics than this. Why can’t common sense rule the day?
I’m pretty good at taking in the details of a big picture I think, and the numbers for me just don’t add up. But then again, I may not be the right person comment on this, because supposedly 5,024 people die on a motorcycle each year (the odds are 1 in 770) and I’m sure as fuck not going to give that up.
Anyway, that was my thought coming down out of Oatman.
I hit Kingman, and hit up Mr D’z. It was open, and had the first sit down meal I’d had in a month. It was fucking awesome. A waitress, some good food I didn’t have to make and a smile. The burger was awesome. I think it had some pastrami in it. I was so happy to have something be normal I tipped her 20 bucks.
From there, I pointed the bike toward Seligman, and old Route 66. Kicked my foot up on a footpeg, enjoyed a little music at full blast and headed toward the place I was going to stay for the night.
Through Hackberry, and onto Peach Springs and into Seligman.
Stayed at the Supai Motel. I’ve always wanted to stay here. It has the best neon in Seligman, and figured it’d be cool to see it in the morning. I took some pictures, and headed out of town.
From there, I’d had a gut full to think about. I hugged as much of route 66 as I could, but most of it seemed like it was on the Interstate. I didn’t take too many pictures, but had a lot on my mind. Mostly good.
I’d gotten what I needed out of this ride. A time to think about things, a few miles and fuel for the fire to go back to work and do my thing. I got perspective. It seemed good, and right.
What I came up with, on that ride home can be perfectly summed up here:
At the end of the day, I’m a father, a husband and a Grandfather. The world is changing. What I choose to do, is build my kids. Maybe Pass a thing down. You can find a good a thing if you look for it.
Life is good.
Ride safe, ya biker pricks.