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Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Wednesday, December 07, 2011

Still Nuther Pan

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Nuther Panhead

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Photo by Bob.

Who Wouldn't Want One?

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From the Daikoube blog.

Why Baket

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Haven't had the real pleasure of blasting through long highways with these guys yet since Brutus breathed his last but I am compelled to call them my boys. True to the rebel persona and away from the usual black leather vest wearing monotony of the majority, the Monkeys are a class of their own.

Recently they completed a round up north through mountain city (Baguio) and the adventure made me think back when I myself rode up there. The stalls, problems and delays along the triple digit route are what makes rides like these stick to you.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Another of Noli's Victoria's Secret collection. I've been out of circulation far too long demmet..

Aside from being slick on the throttle the Monkeys are also known for their one-off custom rings, which are a few of the rarest things you can ever hope to collect. Browse their collection on their site.

Photos knocked off their site. Swing with the monkeys @ their >>blog<<

Saturday, December 03, 2011

Clarence Writes

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1936
To: Richard
Sent: Saturday, January 06, 2007 7:49 PM
Subject: Freeby Berger

Richard, I was looking for ideas on tool sharpening and following links galore and came on your site. When I looked at the page for the tool holder, the name Freeby Berger jumped out at me.

I am 65 years old and the simple name means a lot to me. When I was a young man in the coal fields of Pennsylvania, I was wild about motocycles. Not motorcycles, but motocycles as that was what Indian called their brand. I was a Indian Motocycle rider and loved that brand of bike. I had my first one from a barn when I was 13 and when I met Freeby, he was already a old man but there he was at a gas station in the Pocono’s and he was astride an INDIAN!

I was 17 years old (I think?) and when I saw the bike, I slid to a halt. My Indian was an Ex-Philadelphia police model that I hand picked from a dealers lot as a trade in for new Harleys so I picked the nicest one for $150. I went over that Bike and it was just perfect. No scratches or dents and it was really fast in comparison to my 101 scout, but the one I was looking at was like new and chromed up!

I introduced myself to Mr. Berger and he suggested (after talking awhile) that I follow him to his shop in Aqua Shikola (I hope I spelled correctly) and off we went. He turned on the gas and walked away from me and I thought this old man can ride that thing. And why is it faster than mine?

When we got to the shop he showed me what he did on the motors. It seems he took the cams out and reground them for higher lift and I am sure duration was lengthened so as to multiply torque (Indians had only three gears). What he had done was more power down low and the higher lift meant that he lost none up top. With a higher sprocket you had torque and top end and that’s why he just scooted away from me.

I saved up and had him make me the cams and since I could take an Indian apart blindfolded (started at 13) I soon was flying along just Like Freeby Berger.

Now I do not know if the Freeby Berger that you knew is the one I knew, but he was a great mechanic and a machinist so its possible, unlikely but possible. In any case thanks for a pleasant memory sparked by your Freeby Berger and wish you a Happy New Year.

Regards

Clarence Marsden
1946

That Tail

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Clean. Like the inside of my ears.

Red

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Nice. But nope. Snagged this somewhere.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Musings

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Feels like eons since I last wrote something sensible here. A couple of times I thought of shutting this blog down for good. Work has overtaken the zeal for two wheels as I was reduced to scooting a thousand miles in a month to and from where I hold office. Situations left and right, the hassles of babysitting a newborn business, working out effs with the people you work with - yeah, I use to just breeze through the same things when Brutus was just a few floors down. I can just wake him up, take him for a spin around my route, and that always clears up all the clout. But.. he's in suspended animation as of now, with no date for his rebirth. I've come to accept that work will take the front row for now.

The tangible thing would be to just remain an employee and finish the 9 to 5 pace just like everyone else does. The crazy thing was jumping off and choosing the lifeboat instead of the comfort of the luxury liner. I needed to row this on my own, can't be a passenger all my life. Delayed gratification has its pains, and sure gains.

I was buying early dinner at my usual stop one afternoon when I heard that familiar rumble. Two dogs in heavy thumpers passed by. Found myself to be a spectator for a change. There was the turning heads, then the awe, then the straining to look after they pass by thing. THAT'S how it was. Everything suddenly returned to me. I was still aching to be reunited with my call. I still wanted to command that attention. Scoot riders have no idea of such feelings. I was like a parrot looking up at an eagle who passed by high above my head.

There's also this machine shop quietly nested in the middle of a farm along my route. The smell of metal dust is just too much sweet odor. I miss dusting myself off from bits after I've used the grinder. I miss getting burned from too much tig welding shirtless. I miss bending tubes via torch. I miss the zen of loud music drowning out the cutting wheel. I miss everything that ties me to my bike.

That's why I've to hold my breath a while longer and see this through. So I can finally settle back in my seat one day and be able to buy any equipment I need to fill my needs. I call them toys. The lathe, the mill, my tig, my torch, my bender.. I will have them again. And when that day comes I'll be thinking back to this time that I was writing this, with my thoughts far ahead to that day.

Thanks for continually dropping in friends.

Strange Indeed

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Metal Porn

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