I love seeing these old pricks on stage. this is jammin.
Good to see Jason Bonham pay tribute to his old man. He’s not nearly as good – not as heavy handed as his dad, but no matter what he was the right choice. He keeps the beat, and the rest of these guys seem happy to be playing together. Again.
Check out the look on John Paul Jones face. he’s in the zone. he’s working.
Jimmy page…. Maybe the greatest guitar player of all time, old and weathered. Still, pulls his guitar out of the rack and plays it perfectly. Beyond it, actually. Like its 1975.
Robert Plant. Maybe the hardest part. He’s fronting it, and sings it better than the old concerts. I’m not sure how old he is, but he owns it all here. Sounds great
back it all out, and this is a great song, and a great version.
Its inspiring. You can re-live the old days, no matter what anyone says. These guys definitely prove it. Good things really never die.
Glad i got a killer wife, whos rolled with me for 20 plus years.
Glad i have kids who know who they are, and enjoy watching them come into their own.
Glad i found riding.
Sitting by my smoker, typing a post on my phone, smoking a thankgiving turkey and studying up on some really good nfo i just found about Easy Rider. Might make the ride come alive for someone in May. Shivering as i post this lol. Fuck me, life is good. Thanksgiving isnt telling me something i already know 🙂
Great song. Winter is here in Heber. Not sure I trust the roads in my car at times, let alone my bike. So she’s covered. This is new to me. Need to find my way back to the desert. Someday. Right now I have things to do.
the Road King before
The Road King after…
Full tank to prevent condensation and a little fuel treatment, battery tender plugged in. She will start fine in the spring methinks. New back tire. Really, this kind of sucks. It is what is is.
Got some road trips in mind, come spring. Getting acclimated to this north thing, and finding my legs. This wendover air field needs to be explored more, and maybe a little cowboy history. Its not route 66, but there are ghosts out there. Ill find em. The road king begs to ride.
It has been a long time. Since my business crashed and burned over a year ago, I just haven’t had the or money time to ride. Its in me to keep my family straight, and that’s my sacred trust to them. I guess second to riding.
I had her covered up and put away. Trickle charger in place, covered properly. Fuel additive, fuel tank….. ready for winter. Thank god the weather broke, and maybe my mojo.
So I loaded up the Road King. I think the last time I was in Wendover Nevada was 1982, when I got certified in scuba diving. I was just a kid, and I don’t remember much about the town. I just needed a ride. Things are starting to break for me again, and opening up a throttle over a new stretch of road seemed kinda right to me. I was right. The night before I found where the Enola Gay had taken off from Wendover, and that there was an Air Museum there and a whole lot of WWII buildings that haven’t changed much since the war. Perfect.
The Enola Gay was the bomber that dropped the first atomic bomb on Japan. Obviously, you know this. I don’t know why I’m even typing it out.
About 40 miles out of town I got this image in my head that still haunts me. It was an old man. Obviously a biker (once you get it, you never really stop being one) who saw my bike with a sleeping bag on back who just kept staring at me. After a few stop lights, he rolled down the window at the last intersection before I got on the freeway, and twisted his body around to give me the thumbs up. I could see how old he was up close now. I gave him the thumbs up back and he kept his in the air, and I wished I coulda taken a picture of his face. he was serious and waved me on as I got on the freeway. I opened her up, and thought about that old man for the next 50 miles. That might be me someday; old, can’t keep my bike vertical in the garage let alone a freeway, and being hauled around in a cage by someone who has no idea what the open road looks like. I almost wish I coulda gone back to that moment and shook his hand. I can tell a fake, and this guy wasn’t. He’d weathered some miles before. I don’t know why it struck me so much. I’ve had the looks before. The nervous moms peeking sideways at the bearded biker next to their car. The young kid who just wants to be free and can’t tell the difference between a Honda and a Harley The girls who just want to wave…. the guy who’s got a bike in his garage, Harley sticker on his truck and just wants to show me up…. This guy was the real deal. I’ll never know his stories, but I’d bet my paycheck he had some great ones. I could see it in his eyes.
Rode up through Fairfield Utah, Found a place to put a few rounds through my 9, and felt myself starting to breathe. Remembered why I love riding so much. It was almost a religious experience.
Near Fairfield Utah
There is new territory up here. I’ll be honest, I miss the desert. The history is different up here, and the terrain lends to different riding. Some people think a long straight road in Nevada is like having their appendix removed. To me, its good. The weather was cool and there wasn’t many bikes on the road. I hit Tooele, hung a left and headed through the salt flats. More history…
Bonneville Salt Flats
Man, I gotta say… I might have been converted from a Street Glide to a Road King. Either way, I love this bike. I opened her up a couple times, and she’s pretty comfortable at 120. Speedo got pegged, and she had more in her. The RK is a pleasure to tour on.
Got pulled over on the Nevada side for not having a helmet, grabbed a burger and a bottle of good scotch and headed back to the KOA to pitch my tent and sum up what I’d just learned, Again. I can’t go too long without a good ride. I swear to god it puts years on my life.
Home for the night. Wendover Nevada KOA
Took this picture because it reminded me of Easy Rider. Remember that shot?
The next morning I waited for it to warm up, packed the bike slow and headed out by 10. Went down to Wendover Airfield.
Really cool little museum.
Colonol Paul Tibbets Signature on a replica of little boy, the first atomic bomb
The rest of the base was almost the best part. You can tell it has struggled on funding, and to me that’s half the appeal. Its rusty gold, cleaned up but nowhere polished. Maybe the closest thing to being in 1945. Some of the buildings were sold off after the war, and others just have signs and are waiting for money before they can restore them. Either way, you can walk through it all and get a feel of what it was like to live on this base during the great war. This was where all the training happened for what ended world war II. The whole place reeks of history. Man, Awesome.
Original Air Tower, Wendover Air Field.
Long View of part of the Old Wendover Air Base
one of the planes from the Movie “Con Air”
The Enola Gay Hanger
From even a couple of years ago, the Enola Gay Hanger was falling in on itself. They’ve spent some money to restore it. I could only see it from the outside. There’s an 8 hour tour they do once a year, and I suspect I’ll be the only guy without gray hair that goes to it. (fuck if I know If I have any gray hair, I got no hair!). Either way, I’ll go next year. This place has a lot of ghosts.
The rest was great. I had planned to spend more time, but got a call from my family that needed my attention and forced me to head home earlier than I wanted. All good. I’ll come back. Wendover is no ones vacation but mine I think.
I’ll pack the road king tomorrow. I’m making a list right now. Man, I hope I remember how to do this. There used to be a time that I had it all sitting in the saddlebags on a wednesday. Not now.
Thats my motivation.
Tomorrow night, I’m gonna wake up in a place that for all intents and purposes I’ve never been. In reality, I think I’ve been there 3 or 4 times, the last time being in 1981. Its nobody’s glory trip if you live up here, but to me, its a ride.
It’s gonna be some cold shit. 32, if the weather channel is right. I’m kinda finding that the weather channel is about 5 degrees hot every morning. At least checking the weather is still a habit. Packing a saddle bag, is not. not that worried. I remember pretty fast.
Kind of a tune up trip to me. Something tells me that this shitty little overnighter is going to stir up something that is gonna change a whole lotta things. Not because of the destination. not because of the bike, or the weather, or any of that crap. Because its the ride. I’m gonna wake up in a new place, with my bike less than 3 feet away. man, I can’t wait. To me, its a helluva adventure, with a little bit of money and some time to explore.
Something tells me the Road King and I after this are gonna be real friends, thick as thieves. For me, this is how it starts.
Going to Wendover Nevada. Little town of 1500 and a huge airport where the final assembly of the fat man and little boy bombs happened. Where the Enola gay took off. The lady on the phone told me there was an auto tour of the old base, which has since been turned over to the town. She said a motorcycle was OK. They saved the Hangar from falling in on itself, but it sounds to me that the funding didn’t go a whole lot past that. Anytime a little trip to 1945 can happen, I’m in.
Its pretty cold out, but tomorrow, gonna run a couple hundred miles and find this place:
Any idea what it is? Some powerful history there.
Never done an overnighter on the road king yet. Its gonna be cold, but funner than hell. I live up here, better start taking the time to scout the perimeter.
Fall is here. Cold mornings, shorter days. Doesn’t bode well for the bike and I here soonish.
Took her for a ride after work tonight. It was nice. Weather was cool, and she was glad to stretch her legs a little. Man, so was I.
Seasons make you appreciate the riding season more. This whole winter and fall shit is still new to me.
Scouted the perimeter this weekend. Got above the city, and took some pictures. This is my family, minus one who wanted to just wanted some alone time. I can certainly understand that (hell, doesn’t any biker?).
Squaw Peak, Overlooking Utah CountyZip Family, Minus one girl. Folks, them smiles ain’t fake. They love to get out and see new things. I couldn’t be more lucky. How bout that Penguins hat? She’s like an old friend.
I never told the kids I used to come up here as a youngster, and what I did to the neighbor cats that got into our garbage cans. Figured that was a bar story. My old neighbors, the bellistons know what I’m talking about. It dies with us.
Sometimes, I feel like I’m getting older. Not in my body, not in my soul, but in my experiences. Some things are just more valuable to me anymore. Like my kids and wife. Pretty lucky in that regard…
We went and saw a movie aimed towards my youngest then we drove over the alpine loop. The mountains have a rust color to them, almost like lichens on an old rock. They change every day it seems. Snow is just around the corner I betcha.
