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XHEATHENS
Point Ferman / Walker's Cafe 06/28/08
Seven of the members
gathered at Starbuck’s new location in Huntington
Beach, near Beach Blvd. & Garfield St. at 9:00 a.m.
The coastal cloud cover belied the fact that it was 75 degrees
and comfortable without jackets. Jaime of La Habra bought
a $12.50 cup of coffee so he could explain the finer points
of java making! “Male Peruvian parrots carry these
Argentinean coffee berries in their beaks to Brazil where
the females line their nests, (which are situated in Brazil
nut trees), with the berries. The berries decompose during
the nesting cycle and only the beans remain. The beans are
harvested by local natives and purified in a solution of
Chilean pepper bark and Amazonian spring water, then roasted
over an active lava flow.” Supposedly only a small
amount is sold to the highest bidder each season and Starbuck’s
won out this year. It was called ‘Aztextinkadew’
and served in a 6 ounce cup. We asked Jaime how it tasted;
Jaime rolled his eyes and cooed, “Ambrosia!”
Well then there now, I happen to know for a fact that Jaime
doesn’t know the difference between potpourri and
a fetlock! He just says things that feel good to his ears.
‘Bethel the Lesser’ smelled the empty cup and
said it reminded him of Pittosporum undulatum and Black
Leaf 40 or something you’d use in a Flit-Gun! Nobody
had any idea of what the old soul was speaking of??? We
mounted up and rode west on Main Street, H.B. to P.C.H.
People waved and hooted, some pointed to the sky and shouted
“Praise the Lord!”
Ya’ know, being
about our Father’s work is the most rewarding job
there is. You have a job description manual, an employer
who guides you and whose door is always open, plus He goes
to bat for you with the C.E.O. when your pride gets in your
way; not to mention the fringe benefits and take a look
at that retirement plan! Everybody qualifies, Jesus wants
you! Enlist today!
Going north on P.C.H.,
the shoreline was beautifully colored in pristine hues that
only the Pacific Ocean can produce. The coastal clouds had
become diaphanous as golden rays of sunlight played on the
performing surf. The choreography was celestial and even
the gulls and sandpipers glowed with the purity of perfection.
We motored through Huntington
Harbor, Sunset and Seal Beaches with people all decorated
for a summer day. We took 2nd Street through Belmont Shores.
Belmont Shores is a kaleidoscope of humanity; power boaters,
sailors, retired folk, college kids, sodomites, animal lovers,
etc., etc., etc. Each faction prescribably dressed and flaunting
their badges of authority that demand recognition. It’s
a pathetically amusing hamlet in this man’s observation,
yet, so goes the world!
On to Long Beach via
Ocean Blvd. and the panoramic view of Long Beach and Los
Angeles Harbors between Belmont and downtown Long Beach.
A sail boat regatta was in progress offshore, their spinnakers
powerfully flexing the amazing ability to wrestle air into
submission, what a delightful discovery! In the distance
the white dome that once housed Howard Hughes’ infamous
HK-1 or H-4 Hercules ‘Spruce Goose’ had created
an abstract backdrop for the bygone splendor of the admirable
H.M.S. Queen Mary. The tour of this ship is an enjoyable
‘time machine’ experience.
Onward over the Terminal
Island Bridge, past the Port of Los Angeles and its aerial
view of the millions of tons of cargo neatly arranged to
be seen from the apex of the Vincent Thomas Bridge. As soon
as you get over the bridge, is the off ramp for Ports ‘O’
Call and Harbor Ave. This is the exit that is the shortest
route to Union Surplus. For some unknown reason, as we came
to the off ramp, ‘Lurch’ and Eric pulled out
of line and passed the road captain as if they had a plane
to catch! The road captain gave them the ‘are you
daft?’ hand signal and led the rest of the group onto
the exit. Now, Harbor Avenue is one of the most picturesque
examples of import commerce in the world. Endless berths
of behemoth container ships, brightly painted in corporation
colors with logos from exotic far away places. There many
mammoth cranes that pick away at the cargo like a horde
of steel praying mantises leaving the ships as the hollow
hulks of starving leviathans. The operation is a continual
ballet of grace in the articulate animation of inspired
engineering; the ‘Swan Lake’ of mechanical magnificence!
At 6th Street and Harbor
stands the Maritime Museum, a stately structure of nautical
design that houses historical art and mementos of seafaring.
Among the artifacts rests the ‘Ship’s Registry’,
in which is recorded the gallant story of the U.S.S. Kearsarge
C.V.A.33; the battle proven pride of Task Force 77. The
highly decorated attack carrier’s planes flew over
6,000 sorties against the North Korean and commie Chinese,
plus protecting Formosa (Taiwan) from invasion. See the
movie, ‘Bridges at Toko-Ri’ with Wm. Holden,
Mickey Rooney and Grace Kelly, which is a thinly disguised
story of the carrier and its service. A great deal of the
film’s footage was shot aboard the Kearsarge. But
alas, the old warrior was sold to the Japanese auto industry
as scrap metal! Some grown men cried, others cursed and
still others went out and bought Toyotas. ‘Bethel
the Lesser’ has many black and white snapshots taken
aboard the ship during the war.
We grabbed a right on
6th Street and arrived at Union Surplus minus Lurch and
Eric. We no sooner parked when cell phones began to ring!
Our missing brothers were lost east of Torrance! After a
series of calls, Jaime was able to talk them down and we
entered Union Surplus. This place has to be one of the last
real military surplus stores. They have stuff that dates
back to WWII, steel ammo cases, ammo boxes, rucksacks, parachutes,
knives and real guns! Camping and hunting gear and clothes.
Another interesting thing about Union Surplus is that they
have stacks of odd attire, all new, made in the U.S.A. However,
the designs, colors and intended use are somewhat obscure!
A hooded tuxedo shirt with bow tie and cummerbund, this
is a one piece ensemble. How about a fleece lined, gold
plastic helmet with an air horn on top, complete with a
compressed air tank! The most baffling item we came across
was a camouflage jacket with a target on the back! The scoring
rings were rated thusly, the outside circle was 100, diminishing
in score to the bull’s eye which counted as 10? ‘Freeway
Fred’ surmised that Union Surplus buys everything
they can’t sell in Kentucky! Could be! It’s
worth a visit just for fun! It was there, during a conversation
with a customer, that we found out that Milton Bilschwatz
would have been 126 years old this year had he lived!
We mounted up and headed
for Century Motors which during the 60’s was one of
the most successful BSA and Norton dealerships on the west
coast. The owner, ‘Wild Bill’ Cottom, ran a
very pleasurable operation. His motto was, “We treat
our customers like family!”, and so it was! Bill Cottom
took special care of all of whom he had dealings with and
in turn, ‘the family’ spread the word about
Century Motors. Cottom sponsored many aspiring motorcycle
racers and quite a few went on to become stars in their
galaxy of the two wheeled competition universe. Cottom instituted
two annual get togethers, one on Father’s Day and
the other during the Christmas holidays. A tradition his
daughter Cindy and grandson have perpetuated to this day;
they’re more like family reunions. Century Motors
in San Pedro is a nostalgic museum of rare and unusual motorcycles
and stuff, plus new and used parts for any bike’s
restoration. Say “Hi” to ‘Wild Bill’
Cottom, his ashes are in the Vincent gas tank displayed
on the wall and you’ll feel his loving spirit through
his family and friends. God bless Bill Cottom.
Next, it was on to Walker’s
Café at Point Fermin for lunch. It was there we met
‘Brother Terry’, he works for Boeing in Huntington
Beach and builds old style Harleys for fun. Terry was riding
one of his latest creations. It wasn’t finished but
showed the meticulous craftsmanship of maintaining the 50’s
concept of removing as much as possible while capturing
the bold impression that a street bike could be used as
a flat tracker while packing double! The feller has the
eye for raw elegance. ‘Brother Terry’ himself
was a delight, he had been sitting alone lunching down and
reading his bible. Our old dude, ‘Bethel the Lesser’,
has a strange quirk, if he comes across anybody that’s
by themselves, he seems to take it as a personal invitation
to join them. Well, Bethel sits down with the guy and we
get our vittles and sit at one of the outside tables next
to them. By that time they were in full swing conversation.
Terry was speaking, we eavesdropped! “My introduction
to Jesus isn’t very exciting, some of my friends invited
me to go to church with them, I went, enjoyed the sermon
and when the alter call came, I gave my life to Christ and
have been depending on Him ever since.” Bethel pushed
his hat back on his head and wryly smiled before he spoke,
“Not exciting? Are you trying to feed me bird seed
pal?” “What do you mean?” Terry asked
innocently. Bethel bowed his head and massaged his temples
with his finger tips before he spoke and when he did, his
voice seemed as though he was pleading, “Sweet Jesus
man! You walk unscathed through this loveless plane crash
called life, straight into the protection of Jesus Christ
and want to minimize the excitement of dodging the bullets
of a firing squad?” Terry replied quietly, “Oh,
I’ve had my ups and downs, yet I knew it was God’s
will for increasing faith in Jesus Christ on my behalf.”
“That’s what I’m sayin”, chided
the old man. “It’s like a feller stating he’s
never been hungry! You’ve never felt alone! And by
God, I find that exciting just talking about it!”
Well, at that time and at that place, a couple of galoots
forged an eternal bond and it was exciting!
Out of the distance
came a thundering rumble, it grew so loud folks began to
gasp and mumble. Up from my table to the street like a shot,
I searched the expanse seeking what the sound had brought
– it was motorcycles, the likes I’ve never seen,
each an expression, individual and keen. Enough! Enough!
‘Crackers’ can’t rap! What it was, ‘Rare
Breed M.C.’ out of Los Angeles. This is an American
afro bike club whose motto is, “Let us leave the world
better than we found it.” Check out their web site.
Each rider had fabricated his mount with personal design.
One of the guys invited us to their picnic just up the street.
I asked him what he called the custom style of his bike.
“It’s motobling brother”, he proudly proclaimed!
You’d have to see these bikes to understand the thought
and effort it takes to co-mingle auto, airplane and nautical
designs, chrome or gild the parts and add-ons. Use exotic
paints, jewels and lights to augment the rolling sculpture,
then power it with the most horsepower possible! If you
can imagine this, you still only have a glimpse of the real
thing! We rode to the area of the festivities, NO PARKING!
There were over 500 bikes in the park and well over 1,000
people barbecuing, playing live music and having a wonderful
time. Club members and the L.A.P.D. directed us to the nearest
parking, over a mile away. This area was loaded with bikes
and cars and people carrying coolers and beach chairs back
to the party. We shot the breeze with some folks then voted
to head home. People were still filing in as we headed out.
Everything assessed,
it had been a blessed and very exciting day!
Paddy DeLucca,
Chronicler
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XHEATHENS
Speedway Night - Orange County Fair Grounds 06/21/08
Costa Mesa, CA
Ten of us met at a parking
lot in Costa Mesa at the agreed upon time; we waited an
additional 7 minutes for ‘Textman’ and ‘Fish
& Chips’ who were ‘no shows’! After
four days of concern to their whereabouts we discovered
they were suffering from a case of femininitis with rut
side effects. It’s a common malady among men with
no known cure, woof, woof!
It was a perfect night
for the races, balmy weather with a large attendance of
joyously enthusiastic spectators. Ah, speedway! Speedway
originated in England in the early 1900’s and by 1925
events drew crowds upwards of 40,000 with pari-mutuel betting.
The sport caught on in Australia and New Zealand and that’s
where ‘Sprouts’ Elder, an American from California
was lured into the mix. Spouts was a Fresno rancher’s
son that had raced dirt and board tracks and was an excellent
hill climb contestant. Well, in the late 20’s a girl
got ‘Sprouts’ in trouble and he was sent to
a relative’s ranch in Australia, just ahead of a Basque
lynch party armed with shotguns, so the story goes! It was
there that he fell in love with speedway, he was a natural
and won Australian, New Zealand and British championships.
Now known as the ‘Fresno Flash’ and figuring
the coast was clear, ‘Sprouts’ brought speedway
back to the USA. It took off like a turpentined cat and
before you could say ‘Jack Robinson’ there were
speedway races six nights a week and on Sundays from ‘Frisco’
to San Diego, even in Fresno! In Los Angeles the famous
Gilmore Stadium hosted races regularly. In no time the east
coast followed suit and speedway racing was the rage. Polo
ponies were put out to pasture and racing dogs became pets.
Movie stars wanted a taste of the glory and tried their
hands at the sport; Clark Gable, Victor McLaglen, Douglas
Fairbanks, Jr., even one of the Marx Brothers to name a
few.
The craze did spawn
the American team of ‘Lammy’ Lamoreaux and the
Milne brothers, Jack and Cordy who went to England in 1937
and brought back the world championship from Wembley Stadium;
Jack 1st, Lammy 2nd and Cordy 3rd. By 1940 WWII took its
toll and speedway was among the casualties. In 1946 promoters
tried to resurrect the good old days but by the middle 50’s
speedway racing was on the nod. T.V., Class C, Flat Track,
TT and desert racing had caught the publics fancy and now
all the post war types of auto competition was flexing its
muscles and moto-cross was on the horizon. Speedway became
and remains reasonably popular in Europe since the war,
but it wasn’t till the late 1960’s that here,
a couple of geniuses pooled their savvy and resources to
launch speedway racing with the glamour it once knew. ‘Dude’
Crisswell and Harry Oxley were a pair to draw to. Crisswell,
a career con-artist, soon went back to prison and Oxley
put his shoulder to the grindstone and with blood, sweat
and tears, was able to enlist backers, sponsors, riders
and a fantastic location; it was a true God sent miracle!
Orange County Speedway Racing at the fairgrounds. Oxley’s
formula was simple, ‘the square deal’, surround
yourself with straight arrow folks and promote, promote,
promote! He even pulled off a world championship event at
the L.A. Coliseum! Quite a guy! His son Brad is following
in his dad’s footsteps and ramrods the show now. Sweet
Jesus!, did Harry Oxley produce some heroes? Championship
riders all, to a man! Listen to some of the names, Rick
Woods, The Bast Brothers, the Morans, Bobby Schwartz, Danny
Becker, Sonny Nutter, Brad Oxley, Billy Gray and on and
on, plus races that hosted all the European stars. Many
of the U.S. riders went overseas and brought back the gold.
It was a fabulous show every week. Larry Huffman was the
announcer and his inimitable style became a benchmark.
All ten of us were seated in the 1st turn bleachers by the
time the national anthem was played, the flag flew at half
mast in tribute to John Matherson, the owner of Mission
Motorsports in Irvine. John had crossed his earthly finish
line a week earlier off Ortega Highway on his way home.
John introduced New Zealand sidecar races to the regular
speedway show some years ago; it was an instant crowd pleaser.
God bless John Matherson; his brightness will be sorely
missed.
The riders filed out
for their introduction and parade lap. ‘Lurch’
boomed, “Hey, what kind of bikes are these guys riding?”
Steven the Preacher explained, “They’re 500cc
(30 1/2 c.i.), single cylinder, methanol fueled, 200 pound
racing motorcycles capable of 0 to 60 MPH in 2.5 seconds
with no brakes. The machine has one stirrup foot peg on
the right side which enables the rider to push the rear
wheel sideways in the corners under power as he raises his
bodyweight over the front wheel to maintain steering traction.
The left boot is fitted with a steel soled over-shoe and
is used as an outrigger till the turn is maneuvered; then
the rider slides down on the seat for rear tire bite in
the straight-away, then tosses the bike sideways for the
next end of the 1/10 mile track; all the while trying to
pass or keep from being passed on a dirt surface.”
It’s work, balance and throttle control. There was
plenty of slammin’, bangin’ and elbow to elbow
racing with numerous spectacular crashes. Bobby Schwartz,
now in his 50’s with 35 years of racing under his
belt, won one of his heat races but the young lions ate
him alive in the main event. The support (novice) races
featured a 76 year old guy that began speedway racing at
73. The members started egging on Bethel to start a new
career. “Yeah, then who would baby-sit you owl hoots?”
Bethel questioned. About that time the starting gate went
up and the old dude was last off the line, he was lapped
twice in a 4 lap race and putted around the track dragging
his steel shoe behind him. “He doesn’t even
know where he is, looks like he’s looking for a parking
place!” Jaime laughed. Bethel spit iced tea on the
nape of Jaime’s neck and he stopped laughing.
The sidecar demonstrations
were exciting with all their antics on 1,000 cc machines,
only one ‘monkey’ (passenger) fell off and was
run over, minor damage! Bethel asked Jaime if he would be
his ‘monkey’ if Bethel built a racing rig. Jaime
ground out a cigarette on the back of Bethel’s hand!
“Does that mean no?” Bethel queried.
All in all it was a
joyful night and a fitting eulogy to John Matherson. I for
one pray someone will continue the sidecar program, we’ll
see. Speedway should be a ‘must’ a couple of
times each season, it’s fun!
We parted in the parking
lot and everybody made it home okay, thank God.
Paddy DeLucca, Chronicler
P.S. Dude Crisswell
attained his triumph too! After his last stretch, unbeknownst
to many, Dude embraced Jesus Christ as his Savior and successfully
operated a halfway house for ex-cons during the remaining
years of his life; I have no idea how many lives he turned
around, God knows!
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XHEATHENS
Spur of the Moment - Cook's Corner 06/08/08
The Royal Hat Trick
At Cook's Corner
Our brother Sir Fish
& Chips has a very large head! Some say all Brits have
big craniums! I don’t know, I wasn’t there,
I only heard. Sir Chips is a large man and his head doesn’t
seem out of proportion, until he puts on a cap! When he
dons a baseball type cap the adjustment straps are too short
to connect in the back, so Chips cuts them off and perches
the cap atop his titanic melon. Try to imagine Hulk Hogan
wearing a beanie! It’s just plain embarrassin’
man! Some of the brothers felt so concerned they set out
to find a suitable cover for the gent’s noggin. Jaime
of La Habra suggested a stocking cap of some sort but Eric
the Cleric piped in with, “Nobody wears socks that
large!” He was taken aside to explain the finer points
of the matter, yet he remains stymied; the galoot knows
his computers though. After kicking the dilemma around for
awhile it was decided that if most limeys have giant noodles,
it would be a possibility that hats made in England would
also be larger. Em Dog volunteered to fly to London and
look around if someone would pony-up a round trip ticket!
Bethel the Lesser pinched him and muttered, “Wake
up!” Jeffe took the lead and quietly exclaimed, “Why
don’t we check out the internet?” (Jeffe always
speaks quietly in public, it’s his gimmick.) I’ve
heard that there’s an existing recording of him expressing
his discontent about a missing granola bar on a hiking trip
and that five strangers came out of the forest to sign up
for yodeling lessons! I wasn’t there, I only heard.
The internet was the right ticket! Boy, oh boy, listen to
this: “Christy’s Ltd. Big Ben, Wembley Stadium
Motorbike Competitors Cap; black with royal gold pin stripe,
contrast back patch with mesh lining. Selected U.K. linen,
hand sewn by Nottingham virgins. Tastefully hand embroidered
British flag on left side rearwards of the covered Yorkshire
leather bill. Three British sizes only; YankXXL, Blimey
Big and Bloody Hell Mate!” We’d struck sterling,
tally-ho! The brothers all chipped in and we wired our order
across the pond.
Well, the cap arrived
and a coronation ceremony was set up at Cook’s Corner.
Most of us got there early and were lying in wait for Sir
Chips’ appearance. He and Jeffe rolled in late; they
had been watching F-1 racing at Jeffe’s house. They
wanted to see if Ferrari finished in the money, some sort
of gentleman’s bet they had going. Don’t know
who the gentleman was. Sir Chips was on his H.D. dresser.
He parked and took off his gigantic special made ‘Goliath’
double DOT approved helmet. He rummaged through his saddle
bag and came up with his cap. He stretched it over his helmet
hair and grinned as we circled around him. The cap he wears
is a real humdinger, with the adjustment strap cut off,
it looks like somebody took a big bite out of the back of
it and the emblem on the front is a wild winged shield that
says, “Harley Davidson’s All You Can Eat Buffet,
Modesto, CA.” We closed in on him and presented his
gift all official like in its Fed-Ex box. “Wot’s
the occasion?” Sir Chips questioned. “It’s
the old American hat trick”, Jeffe guffawed. Chips
slowly unwrapped the gift, pulling back the tissue his eyes
went wide. He tried to speak but his voice became the little
squeaking sound of a ferret trapped in his throat, he was
dumbstruck! His first coherent words were, “It even
has the regal pin stripe!” As he examined the new
cap, its labels and construction with eyes downcast, he
murmured, “This is very emotional, God save the queen!”
After a round of thank yous, Chips tossed his old cap on
the seat of his bike and delicately slipped his dome into
the new British cap. It fit like the skin on a tomato (we
had ordered the “Bloody Hell Mate” size). Sir
Chips became taller, his nose tilted skyward and before
our very eyes he became the ‘Squire of Cook’s
Corner and all Fresh Water Inlets’. What a transformation!
We faked being his subjects the rest of the day. Without
a doubt, it was the right hat for the right dude.
We got our lunches and sat under a large tree listening
to live music, changing seats at a shaded picnic table just
enjoying one another’s company. Bethel the Lesser
came across a couple of old faces from the past, Perry King
the actor and side hacker and Dan Gurney the race car driver
and importer of Montessa Motorcycles back in the 60’s.
Dan appreciated Bethel’s sidecar rig and showed him
his newest innovation to the Alligator Motorcycle he’s
promoting. Dan said he calls it ‘The Yamagator’!
It’s a 350 cc, water cooled single in the original
Alligator chassis. Sounded good and pulled a very tall 1st
gear pretty rapidly as he left.
We all decided to pull
out for home and exchanged hugs and handshakes before heading
in our chosen directions. It had been a very blessed day
and I can’t help feeling that some of us felt as if
we were heading home from a trip to England or…..Minnesota?
Paddy DeLucca
Chronicler
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XHEATHENS
"Steve the Preacher" Birthday Ride 06/01/08
The sun quietly came
up and kissed the butterflies awake, the birds sang softly
in harmony with the dawn’s caress as the morning was
born with a promise of heavenly perfection. The bees began
buzzin’ and flowers turned their fresh faces to greet
the innocent blush of light. A silent glow embraced all
things large and small in preparation of the fervent glory
of this new day. Ah, nature’s song of reveille! Well,
that was enough of that!
The thunderous crescendo
of man and machine took the stage as 9 motorcycles fired
in unison to create a concerto of mechanical rhythm. Don’t
you just love the sound of motorcycles in the morning? There’s
no music like it! The tempo of timed explosions, whirling
cams and gears producing raw torque and horsepower with
each synchronized revolution. In the words of Mike Parti,
“I’d rather hear a tuned engine rev than a pretty
girl sing!”
Twelve of the body hit
the road on 9 bikes from Bethel’s house in Huntington
Beach. It was an impromptu ride to celebrate Steven’s
51st birthday and his high school graduation on the previous
Friday. Steven was a straight ‘A’ student during
his senior year in 1974. He had cut a deal with his teachers
to spend the days repairing their vehicles in auto shop
in exchange for ‘A’ grades in all other classes.
It was a great scam until Steven was road testing a teacher’s
road racer and crashed, ruining a brand new Daytona helmet
on a palm tree. The tree and motorcycle suffered minor scrapes;
Steven received some expert brain surgery and missed graduation.
His recovery was nothing short of miraculous and as he pursued
his talents, God blessed him with honor upon honor in his
chosen field. At 40 years old he had become a master mechanic
and licensed smog tech. He began teaching at U.T.I. and
was approached by the California Bureau of Automotive Repair
to interview for an inspector’s position. The B.A.R.
suggested he secure his high school diploma, so he did.
Some of us attended his graduation ceremony. It was somewhat
amusing to see a fellow older than most of his teachers
receive his diploma!
The 9 bikes cruised
P.C.H. and ended up at Woody’s Diner in Sunset Beach
for brunch. Woody’s is a 50’s style diner with
a lot of memorabilia on the walls, saucy waitresses, passing
fair food and very little parking. We finally got 8 of the
bikes situated and ‘Freeway Fred’ parked in
front of a beach house and knocked on the door to ask if
it would be okay to leave his bike on their property while
he ate. Well, as the Lord would have it, the homeowner was
a Harley riding preacher! He joined us and we discussed
our blessings, Steven’s birthday, longevity and the
loss of youth. Some lamented and others were pleased it
had passed. We ate our fill, bid our new friends a fond
farewell, mounted up and headed south on P.C.H. for Huntington
Beach.
Huntington Beach may
be ‘Surf City’ but it’s also the biggest
non stop side show parade on the west coast! We all were
blessed with Main Street parking and got cokes, iced tea
and coffee to go from ‘The Sugar Shack’, then
took up front row seats near the fountain across the street.
The typical Main St. show was at its peak! Motorcycles,
hot rods, custom and exotic cars, bicyclists, skateboarders,
bikinis, body builders, Goths, skin-heads, pit bulls, parrots,
snakes and plenty of clowns! The pure joy is that you never
know if you’re doing the looking or being looked at!
We spent a couple of hours gigglin’ and scratchin’
then agreed to thank God and head for our barns. It was
a very happy birthday Steven! The sun was starting to set,
the sparrows were fluffing up their nests for the night,
humming birds were hummin’ around the honeysuckle
vine seeking out the last bit of nectar before the blossoms
closed their trumpets to announce ‘taps’. There
was motorcycle racing playing on the Speed channel, Milky
Way bars in the frig; God was in His heaven and all seemed
right with the world.
Amen!
Paddy DeLucca
Chronicler
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XHEATHENS
Set Free Memorial Day Outreach B-B-Q Ride 05/26/08
6th Annual Memorial
Day Outreach, Ocean Beach, San Diego, CA
Here it was, Monday
morning, Memorial Day! It was great to be alive in God’s
world, but somebody had stolen the sunshine! There was nothing
but ominous cloud cover with the threat of rain. Putting
our trust in the will of God, we set out for San Diego.
It was as if the Lord had parted the Red Sea when we got
on the I-5 south, no traffic to speak of and plenty of open
lanes to maintain an 80 MPH pace. We were made abundantly
aware of our blessings as we approached Irvine. The clouds
showed us their power by spitting out about a 5 second mouthful
of sample raindrops, raindrops? Yeah, raindrops as big as
hens eggs! It was over before you could say the Lord’s
Prayer and we were thankful! I think it was one of those
reminders that helps one understand that no matter how uncomfortable
things are, they could be a lot worse. Our first stop proved
the point…..
We pulled off the freeway
for a coffee and pit stop at a 7-11 store. We all had a
hot cup of liquid they said was coffee, it wasn’t!
Its color was that of giraffe urine and it tasted like weak
chicory with just a hint of aluminum. It warmed our bones
and nobody became ill. The man behind the counter was a
swarthy undernourished looking fellow with very large, deep
seated shiny black eyes, the whites of which blended into
a flecked tobacco brown at the corners. Well, after consuming
half his cup of sustenance, Freeway Fred asks the guy behind
the counter, “You call this coffee?” Now, to
say Fred speaks in a decibel above average would be too
kind. During normal conversation, Fred’s voice can
be heard at both ends of a ½ mile race track! Too
much time near the wrong end of an artillery piece has left
this vet’s hearing on low beam; unfortunately his
verbal delivery is like an auctioneer without a microphone!
The counter guy gets rattled and begins to wave his hands
as he bellows back at Fred, “I don’t call the
coffee, the machine calls the coffee! You need the special?
Then you goes to the Starbuck’s! Even you can give
to me back the coffee and I give you full price change!”
The guy is reaching for Fred’s cup. “Aw, that
wouldn’t be fair”, says Fred, “Gimme the
key to the men’s room and I’ll fill it back
up!” The guy gets real important and chesty as he
informs Fred, “Restrooms for the customer, you don’t
buy the coffee, not be the customer anymore!” We all
snickered. Fred says, “Never mind brother, I’ll
just put it where it belongs.” He deposited the rest
of his brew in the trash can and said, “God bless
you citizen” to the guy. I’m continually amazed
that humor is the last thing that different cultures grasp
about one another. The guy behind the counter pointed his
finger at his own chest and retorted behind a smug smile,
“Citizen? You don’t worry, Ha!, I got all the
paper sir, all the paper, I don’t need the Honda boots
to wear!”
We got back on the I-5
and buzzed toward San Diego; even the continuing cloud cover
seemed to be following us in hopes of more frivolity. Took
the I-8 past Sea World and we were there, Ocean Beach! Talk
about blessings, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and
the temperature was a balmy 80 degrees.
This ‘Set Free
Ministry’ is quite the deal! Mostly motorcycle riding
folks with custom bikes from various chapters across the
country. Today’s ‘Outreach’ event was
hosted by the San Diego bunch and supported by local churches
and businesses. What a turn out! Hundreds of people, mostly
riders and their families. The entire beach area was setup
for food and fun. There was a stage with live music and
preaching, even Christian rap for the younger set. Booths
with T-shirt and gewgaws for sale, a kid’s zone with
one of those ball filled blow-up cages for the tiny ones.
Free ice cold soft drinks and bottled water, barbeque blazin’
with hot dogs, hamburgers and chicken. All the fixin’s
including baked beans, potato and fresh green salads. They
had provided a real spread, at no charge for anyone who
chose to hear and see the gospel spread in a non sanctimonious
way. One of their suggestions is, “Get out of the
mysterious box called church and spread the gospel through
outreach, activism and encouragement!” Check ‘em
out at www.setfreesd.org/ These brothers are the friends
of Jesus Christ who spread the word in jails, penitentiaries
and on the street with loving courage and conviction (no
pun intended). Men among men who have known both sides of
the highway, inside and out and have dedicated their lives
to introducing others, especially the youth, to the wondrous
saving grace of Jesus Christ! God bless ‘em! We met
Phil Aguilar aka ‘The Chief’; the founder of
‘Set Free’ (www.myspace.com/setfreephil) at
the function. Quite a guy! We salute you Phil.
The ride home was quick
and filled with the joy of another blessed day of memories
to cherish.
Paddy DeLucca
Chronicler
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XHEATHENS
Yellowstone or Bust Ride 05/14/08
Some of our members joined
together, (Jeff Hatch, Todd Hatch, Chris Trisnan and Mark
Holechek) for a sojourn to Yellowstone Park, Wyoming. Following
is the account of their adventure as penned by Sir Fish &
Chips a dedicated scribe in his own right. Paddy DeLucca was
unable to make this ride as he had an appointment with his
chiropodist.
On May 14th I met Jeff
at his house at 5:30 a.m. We rode to the Chapman off ramp
on the toll road and met Mark Holechek and ‘Textman’
Todd Hatch. Todd has a 1000 Ducati. Mark, Jeff and I have
BMW R12RT’s.
We started the trip and
I noticed a glove flying by me and further on, a glove lying
on the road. When we got to the restaurant for breakfast,
Mark asked if anyone had seen his gloves. Ooops! We rode to
our first destination, which was St. George, Utah. On the
way we stopped for gas at a restaurant in Glendale, Nevada
that we had visited on our ride to Zion last year, but it
had recently burned to the ground.
Day 2 we rode from St.
George to Logan. The views were picturesque and the weather
was spectacular. I was impressed by Salt Lake City’s
skyline and it’s blending of the tall high-rises, the
tabernacles and churches. At Logan we went out for a nice
meal at a place called ‘The Copper Kettle” and
then had a milk shake at an ice cream parlor that opened its
doors in 1914; and still has its original marble work.
Day 3 we set off for Jackson
Hole, Wyoming. We rode around Bear Lake and had a spot of
lunch in Afton where I met a fellow Englishman from my same
area of England who had settled down here. We also saw the
world’s largest deer rack structure, which we rode under.
When we arrived in Jackson Hole the sun was going down on
the Grand Tetons. Cindy, Marks wife, flew in to accompany
him on his return trip. We had a great meal in Jackson Hole
and being an Englishman, I had to raise a flagon at the Million
Dollar Bar while sitting on a saddle!
The next day Halfway Holechek
and Cindy started their trip home. We rode through Grand Teton
National Park and Lake Jenny where every corner was a Christmas
card scene as there was a lot of snow on the ground, but the
temperature was 78! We saw moose, elk, bison, osprey and a
grizzly bear was sited in the park. We also rode to Yellowstone
Park and saw Old Faithful and had lunch in Yellowstone Lodge.
Day 5 Todd, Jeff and I
spent the day in Jackson Hole looking at artwork in galleries
and taking in the local scenery. Again, the weather was perfect.
Jeff could not have planned this better.
Day 6 we headed to Idaho.
We had the second best milk shake of the trip at a place called
Arco. Then we arrived at Mountain Home with the weather being
85 degrees only to check in to see a huge storm coming across
the land. We moved our motorbikes to a secure hallway in the
motel building and Day 7 was blustery but bright. We rode
to Elko, Nevada down a very long, two- lane road. Saw no other
traffic apart from an owl walking across the road totally
oblivious of us! We arrived at Elko and it was decided that
we would push on to Tonopah, Nevada. This was 475 miles, but
the machines were very comfortable to ride and we didn’t
feel any tiredness.
The following day we drove
down to Death Valley and visited a place called Scotty’s
Castle. We did a tour here and everybody heartily recommends
it. It was a perfect day in Death Valley with the temperature
at the highest being 88. I remember Todd reading a small passage
from the book he is reading about an adventure of a motorcyclist
where he describes motorcycle riding as your feet are 5”
from the road and you are not contained in a vehicle looking
through glass and not being able to smell the subtle scents
of what’s around you. Death Valley was a lot bigger
than I imagined. We had to go over two mountain ranges to
get to our last port of call of the trip, which was Lone Pine,
CA.
This is where we saw the
images of the terrible weather that was occurring in California
and were curious to see if we were to get bad weather on our
trip as we had been spoiled with all the days being perfect.
We went to a nice local restaurant called ‘Seasons’
and had dinner. Then we had an early night.
Jeff woke us up at about
6:00 a.m. and informed us that the weather was going to get
a lot worse so we were to set off at 6:30 a.m. We rode down
the 395 to see the Sierras with a fresh dusting of snow and
dark rain clouds on the horizon similar to a Spielberg film
with ILM special effects! As we approached the 15 Freeway,
it rained cats and dogs. We took it really slow to our respective
homes. I had a hot shower and a cup of tea, then the least
I could do was to wash my trusted steed and reminisce about
the brilliant road trip and all the sights I remembered seeing.
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XHEATHENS
Cook's 8th Annual Blessing of the Bikes Ride 05/04/08
We pulled in at Cook’s
around 9:00 a.m.; there were over 50 riders already there
and the momentum of the day was in full swing. Rev. James
Smith was on the move blessing the bikes with holy water and
prayers for the road. Bikes were arriving from all directions
and I’ll bet the Rev. put 15 miles on his sandals before
the day was over. The coarsely woven burlap vestment of the
Rev. covered a tall powerful looking man whose rolled up,
draped sleeves exposed his muscular forearms. His overall
presence was that of a blacksmith gone clergy. The open sleeves
and skirt of his uniform must have created some sort of a
venturi effect; the Rev. never broke a sweat. He dispensed
his holy water from plastic bottles that appeared to be the
often seen Evian Aqua. Being nosey and inquisitive, I picked
up one of the Rev’s. empties and looked at the label.
Here’s what it read! “St. Christopher’s
Original and Official Holy Water. Can be consumed or used
for all religious ceremonies. Authorized, blessed and bottled
at Lazarus Springs Products, Inc., Lodi, Ca.” It was
the real stuff!
One of our members, who
shall remain nameless, other than he is a fastidious B.M.W.
rider who trims his nose hairs at least 6 times a day! Well
now, as soon as the holy water touched his bike, he began
wiping it off and spraying on his special polish and buffing
his heart out! Some folks are very shiny! Freeway Fred ran
his beard over the wet spots on his bike and Bethel the Lesser
mumbled something about letting the water soak in for maximum
effect. Eric the Cleric blotted his Harley with a prayer cloth
he had received (for a donation) from Rev. Rudy Bob Easter
of the Church of 4 Square Deals out of Del Rio Texas. Eric
said he was trying to get twice the mileage out of the blessing!
The holy water had created a cloud over Jaime of La Habra’s
‘police special’? One guy, Mike Enders’
bike quit leaking oil after the blessing and he swore the
oil level showed full! Our faithful brother Gary Beckies showed
us a water mark on the tank of his hog that he said was the
image of St. Francis and if it etched the paint he was going
to put it on E-Bay -- no word yet. Benji said it looked more
like a ’58 Chevy Impala to him! Steve the Preacher said
he wouldn’t look at it because he had failed the Rorschach
test 3 times. This Gary Beckies is an interesting fellow,
a championship yarn spinner with a high capacity sense of
humor. Ask him what the Lord has done with his life; it’s
better than a Billy Graham sermon! Gary supervises 3 ‘Sober
House’ facilities and is a bail bondsman, which furnishes
him with an unending source of poignant anecdotes!
During the ceremony, there
appeared a little lady with a clipboard who said she was doing
interviews for the Trabuco Canyon Times Press News or something
like that. She was a pleasant, well spoken professional gal
in that mid air step, age wise, between tennis and golf. Her
clothing covered as much of her person as was possible, wide
brimmed straw hat, scarf protecting her neck, long sleeved
shirt buttoned at the collar and cuffs, long pants and lightweight
gloves. It all looked like Banana Republic issue and none
of us had the heart to explain to her that the real enemies
of skin are time, gravity and hydraulics. Quit blaming the
sun for everything! The first person the lady approached was
Mr. Chips who was having a 12 day old donut he’d discovered
inside his jacket, sprinkled with holy water in order to make
it edible. “Do you believe that having your bike blessed
has any spiritual significance?” she queried. “Madam”
he replied pausing to swallow a chunk of donut, “I question
not the powers of Almighty God, I ask with the presumption
that he hears me, to bless my food and I spend more time at
repast than I do astride my B.M.W. with no ill effects and
as a man I must concur the proof is in the Yorkshire Pudding!”
(Chips is such an eloquent bloke.) The lady seemed bumfuggeled
and quickly said, “Thank you” then turned abruptly
to Bethel, “Do you think inanimate objects should be
blessed?” Her tone of voice sounded confrontational.
The old man looked her straight in the eye and acted as if
he was telling a child a story, “Aunt Lola loved love
all her life and spent countless hours creating needlepoint
samplers that read ‘God Bless Our Home’, they
were beautiful!” The old man’s eyes looked off
into the past somewhere as he mumbled, “Matthew, Mark,
Luke and John, bless this bed I lie upon” he said dreamily.
“Oh, a poet”, the lady said curtly. The old man
parried with, “Huh?”
We spent the rest of our
time at Cook’s looking at bikes, meeting people and
having fun; then went home. All in all, it was a blessed day!
Paddy DeLucca
Chronicler
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XHEATHENS
Cook's Silverado Ride 04/27/08
Well boys, this ride hatched
from an egg Jaime of La Habra laid. Jaime of La Habra is his
latest handle, in times past he’s been known as James
of Whittier, Jimmy the Lip and J.W. It’s common knowledge
that he has a sub-conscious desire to be known, as were some
of the greats of the bible, such as, Jesus of Nazareth, Saul
of Tarsus, etc., etc. Perhaps the seed was sown during his
parochial school upbringing or it’s not as ‘sub’
as we think! Speaking of Saul of Tarsus who was chosen by
Christ to become Paul the Apostle to the gentiles, well, Saul
and James of La Habra have some distinct similarities. Saul
as a soldier instigated the stoning to death of Stephen as
he stood by and held the stoner’s coats (Acts 22:20).
J. of L.H. got most of his early riding experience from riding
a hog from bar to bar in an intoxicated state. Now a lot of
our day rides entail 200 miles of seat time and J. of L. H.
snivels about the distance as he endures his great sacrifice
begrudgingly. In his desperation, he suggested a shorter ride
with a glowing description of nearby canyons and points of
interest. The rest of us agreed with the instigating clever
scamp and he feigned gratitude at being “Captain Trips’
and planning the ride. Twelve of us met at Cook’s Corner
for J. of L. H.’s guided tour of his younger days. Right
off J. of L. H. enlisted an ‘easy mark’ with a
solicitous bombardment of excuses of why he couldn’t
lead the ride and that Jeffe would do a better job. J. of
L. H. is a master prankster and practical joker. “Wise
as a serpent, yet harmless as a dove.” He adds spice
to most adventures, yet, take warning! When he says, “Let’s
do this or that”, or “We should see what happens
if we”, etc., etc! Well my brothers, it will be you
that implements the plan! J. of L. H. is the recruiter, you
will be the soldier, J. of L. H. will hold your garments!
Jeffe graciously took
over the position of ‘Captain Trips’ and after
Sir Chips finished his 3 Burrito ‘gordo’s meat
grenade surprise’ breakfast, we took off. Jeffe led
us up Santiago Canyon, through Madam Modjeska’s historical
art colony canyon with all its creatively designed original
abodes and the newly constructed dreams of habitat which add
to the individuality of the area. We toured Silverado and
Trabuco Canyons, O’Neil Park, enjoying the rustic intrigue
of old roads, ranches, shops and fresh canyon scenery. It
was spring and the country side shouted it with new growth,
flowers and streams. We even saw a doe and fawn exploring
the new sprouts of delectable edibles under the canopy of
a towering aged oak that was displaying its perfect maturity.
It became a very spiritual ride! At a rest site in Silverado
Canyon, we encountered a group of pre 1930’s car owners
out for a jaunt. All the vehicles were in new condition, showing
off the craftsmanship of that era; Packards, Reos, Cads, Lincolns
and more; some rare models, about 20 cars carrying some very
friendly people. It was at this site that Benji Torres was
asked if he would like to be counted in the number of XHMC
and receive a commitment T-shirt. “I’m not a Christian”,
Benji volunteered, “I’m a Catholic”! Then
he quickly added, “But, my wife is”. Bethel the
Lesser growled, “Catholic, Episcopalian, it’s
the same Jesus that died for your sin”. Benji agreed
and got his shirt. Benji was very quiet the rest of the ride.
Benji is a friend of ‘Eric the Cleric’ Olsen,
our Norwegian Spaniard Pentecostal. Eric is a pleasant man
of manners who is on fire with his faith. It will be very
interesting to watch his growth for he has been blessed with
many talents and has the energy of youth. Oh! I almost forgot,
Eric is also the latest messenger boy for J. of L. H., Eric
doesn’t seem aware of it yet; but he has help a-comin’!
The wonderful ride ended
at a colorful little joint at Rose Canyon Creek near O’Neil
Park in Trabuco Canyon. Inside and outside accommodations;
it’s called Rose Canyon Creek Cantina & Grill. Sir
Fish & Chips hadn’t consumed anything but a few
candy bars and some Twinkies since breakfast so he ordered
something that was served in a sombrero, the waiter had to
caution Mr. Chips when he began to eat the sombrero, at which
point Mr. Chips exclaimed, “It’s not really all
that bad old chap”! Jeffe was building some sort of
structure out of food he didn’t particularly relish,
he’s an architect you know! Em Dog drank a bowl of salsa
before he realized that it was a communal serving for the
tortilla chips. Em Dog is one sweet guy who has walked both
sides of the street and was chosen by Christ to stay on the
sunny side. He loves his wife dearly, he even walks ‘Molly’
the Chihuahua, yet I wouldn’t advise any comments about
his masculinity! The big galoot might forget to turn the other
cheek and render you unconscious! He’d be sorry afterward
and ask for forgiveness. A man must be careful about teasing
animals. Em Dog sits his Harley with the natural grace of
Lee Marvin in ‘The Wild One’, just one of those
natural born riders. Em Dog has one profound weakness. Due
to many trips to the woodshed during his youth, for deserved
whoopin’s, Em Dog has a tender posterior! He’s
the first one to admit that long rides are a real pain in
the ass for him. There are some who refer to his malady as
‘Spanky Butt’, but not to his face!
Well my beloveds, it was
a great God given day, we truly missed those of you who missed
the ride, but God willing there will be more opportunities
up the road. Okay, Okay, I know, Mark Holechek was not mentioned
though he made the ride, there are reasons that will be addressed
in future writings in great depth. Here’s a preview
of that coming attraction. Mark is a chameleonic, wiry dude
with a disarming smirk. His demeanor is that of a Pittsburg
street kid of European ethic and parentage. He doesn’t
think more of a dollar than his right arm and money flows
through his hands like it was tar. Info is still filtering
in concerning Mark and only one thing matters; he is loved
by Jesus Christ! Just ask him. He’s quick witted and
enjoyable. At this report his single perversion is a benign
sense of humor. Much more to follow.
I call ‘em as I
sees ‘em.
In Jesus Christ’s
name,
Paddy DeLucca, Chronicler
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XHEATHENS
Hughes Lake/Rock Inn Ride 04/20/2008
We met at Norm’s
Restaurant on Beach Blvd., Huntington Beach around 9:00
a.m.; everybody coffeed-up and exchanged ‘howdy-dos’.
The most popular show, tell and fondle activities revolved
around “Halfway Jeffe” and Fish & Chips;
our British buddy whose primary concern is gastronomic fulfillment,
a true gourmand! “I say old chap, when and where are
we planning to dine? I’m famished!” He always
says that! His real name is Lord Christopher of Muttonshire
or something near that; we just call him Fish & Chips,
Fish or Mr. Chips. He most often responds with, “Where?”
To continue, Jeffe and Fish showed up on their new BMW RSVP
1200’s, fully equipped with the latest desires of
the unfulfilled. Interstellar positioning, electronic temp
sensors in hand, seat and global warming units, speed adjusting
variable pitch windshields, etc. They also shared a ‘voice
choice’ intercom system. Jeffe had chosen to sound
like Brando and Chips opted for Benny Hill! Oh yeah, they
both have stadium surround sound MP4 players, I think Jeffe
was listening to Danish porno waltzes? As we cruised north
on the 405 the rhythmic growl of our F-J1200 as it devoured
the highway, the air, the aromas and the drool searching
out paths inside my open faced helmet, well, I started feeling
under equipped and so 90’s! The feeling passed and
I began to embrace my lost youth or, the twilight zone for
solace.
Up the 405 to the 605
to the 5 north to Griffith Park for a pit stop at restrooms
between the miniature train depot and the pony rides. On
return to our parked bikes, we were astonished to find them
surrounded by a crowd of folks who had just de-planed from
a tour bus. My sidecar rig was covered with an international
horde of moppets looking for a coin slot? A group of very
stocky, accordion carrying dudes wearing leather shorts
and little hats with long feathers sticking out of the sweat
bands were milling around the BMW’s. I think they
were Shriners! Everyone backed off as we mounted up. As
we pulled out, the kids all looked sad, some were crying.
The accordion guys began playing Wagner’s ‘Flight
of the Valkyrie’ and shouted something that sounded
like, “Ducks land under alleys”???
We fueled in Glendale
and headed North on the I-5 to the Paxton off ramp, then
east past Laurel Canyon and the Ritchie Valens Regional
Park. The park was in full swing with the homeys. Some yelled
at us and waved shouting the local greeting, “Pinche
wuero!” Ah, Pacoima, the land of battering rams, drive
bys and non stop emotion. East on Paxton to San Fernando
Road, the old highway 99 which was the main artery from
L.A. to the San Joaquin Valley, very historical. North,
1 mile on San Fernando Road to the town of San Fernando
and James’ Drive-In; it’s no longer a drive-in,
yet has captured the atmosphere that it maintained over
50 years ago. The menu is a multi-cultural extravaganza
of farm worker portions from albondigas to zoot suit biscuits
and gravy, plus all the standards in between. This place
is a ‘must’ when heading north. We all made
spectacles of ourselves, but they started it by serving
enormous plates of great tasting down-home chow. Mr. Chips
was his wonderful self; he dispatched his heaping full platter
of ham, sausage, hash browns, toast and 7 egg omelette forthwith.
The menu called his meal, “Paul Bunyan’s Big
Brother Country Cornucopia.” Well, then he began his
routine, “Pardon me old chap, are you going to eat
that remaining pork chop?, Whose toast is this?” and
“It would be a bloody shame not to finish those French
fries.” When we mounted up, I noticed that Fish &
Chips’ BMW had a hard bag with heat and cold compartments!
Fish was stocking it with doggie bags! This guy has the
metabolism of the mythical goat shark!
We headed out north
on San Fernando Road then west on San Fernando Mission Blvd.
The town of San Fernando is a wonderful contradiction; just
imagine if Tijuana was located in Muskogee, Oklahoma! Can
ya’ see it?
Now it may seem that undue harshness has been lauded upon
our brother Fish & Chips! Not so! In future commentary
all will have their turn. As our friend Mike Parti once
said, “….If I passed out at a Galloping Goose
party and nobody pissed on me, I’d think they didn’t
love me!” To touch lightly on some others that made
this ride, as an example… Steven the Preacher, a good
natured survivor of a motorcycle crash in 1974 which necessitated
brain surgery that left him a mechanical idiot savant --
and that’s a good deal. He can fix anything that turns,
explodes or depends on electricity. His gifts from God are
manifold; he speaks of scriptures as if they were schematics
from an owners manual, very funny guy. However, he has no
concept of time, distance or danger! As a road captain last
year, he led the group on a 3 hour, 75 mile ‘short-cut’
of hideously congested freeway that began in Huntington
Beach headed for Ventura. Steven’s ‘short-cut’
included Pomona and Pasadena? Once when he was riding ‘sweep’
he inquired if it would be proper to block an Amtrak train
to make sure all of our riders got through the crossing?
Steven now rides middle pack and fixes things! We will never
include any negative reports about wives and girlfriends
who ride ‘saint’ on our functions in the commentary.
Discussions concerning our beloveds are strictly family
business! If you choose to go on any of the rides, we feel
you should know that we too are aware of the idiosyncrasies
and reoccurring peccadilloes of the body of believers. Caveats
are very necessary in life!
We took the I-5 north
from San Fernando Mission Blvd, passed Magic Mountain and
its traffic snarls, then headed east on Lake Hughes Road
at Castaic. Now, this road is a magical path of wonders
as it climbs through the mountains east to ‘The Rock
Inn’. A super maintained road winding past lakes,
ranches, and the natural purity of California’s high
desert glory. The spring flora had announced itself in triumphant
harmony. Golden poppies, sage in bloom, purple blue lupines,
bright yellow Spanish broom and God’s mighty gift
of color and shape, the Indian paintbrush. This flower is
such a feast to study. The base foliage is like that of
a century plant cactus, starting with forest green as it
blends up to chartreuse at the tips of each spear shaped
frond. The flower is conical, similar to the yucca. The
bottom color is the darkest red imaginable, the red vibrantly
diminishes in shades as it climbs the blossom into a glowing
claret, the very tip is a splash of fire yellow pointing
skyward. The unique mystery of this creation is that it’s
all in miniature; about 18” high and individually
perfect in scale to it’s large cousins the yucca and
century plant. Breezing through the graceful curves and
tricky switchbacks we observed hawks, ravens, mocking birds,
wild canaries, sparrows and blue birds.
It wasn’t till
we went inside the ‘Rock Inn’ that we encountered
the largest carnivore of the ride. She was a big 50ish cougar;
all decked out in black motorcycle leather with enough cleavage
to park a bicycle wheel between the implant mounds. Her
gimmick was to ask young guys, “You wanna’ see
some magic?” in her baby talk voice. If the answer
was ‘yes’, she’d ask them to buy her a
bottle of beer, then she would gather a crowd and shout,
“Watch, no hands.” She would then slip her mouth
over the neck of the bottle, lift her head and tip it back,
the bottle went further down her throat, gravity took over
and drained the bottle quicker than pourin’ oil into
a Harley, and all with no hands! A real crowd pleaser! Her
vest had the letters WHAM M.C. on the back in pink sequins.
All the locals called her ‘Lucky’!
Let’s get back
to our arrival at the Rock Inn. The place was built in 1912
from rocks right out of the nearby river beds, a true marvel
in rustic architecture. You have to see it to grasp its
grandeur. Originally it was called the Lake Hughes Trading
Post and it was just that. Building materials, fishing gear,
bait and staples for the country traveler and ranch hands.
Today its bikers’ breakfast, lunch, dinner and lots
of beer! Good iced tea too! We were very close to half way
on the ride so Halfway Jeffe announced his need to depart,
something about a board meeting with Lee Iacocca or somebody.
Halfway Jeffe is the one we love the most; a genteel, generous,
compassionate man who we all spoil. He’s just one
of those individuals you just can’t help but love.
Jeffe is prone to taking his marbles and going home if he
doesn’t get his way and Fish feels so protective toward
Jeffe that he always goes with him so he doesn’t have
to travel alone. I guess you’d say it’s sort
of a bodyguard/valet position. Don’t get the wrong
idea about Jeffe; he’s a regular feller and slicker’n
an eel at an Exxon oil spill about getting his way. He revels
in the hi-jinx and horsing around of others but stays far
enough away so as not to get any blow-by on him. Johnny-on-the-spot
when the chips are down, he is a valued friend but a finicky
eater. The ‘Beemer Bro’s’ headed for the
barn and the rest of us headed for Gorman.
The temp. was a comfortable
73 degrees at the Rock Inn and had been warmish as we approached
from the southwest but as soon as we dropped off the hill
heading north, the wind blew like billy thunder and the
temp. dove like a kamikaze in a Zero. Even the small lakes
had white caps on them. It was a windy 41 degrees when we
pulled into Gorman. The drastic change had taken place in
less than 40 miles of travel. The old man (Bethel the Lesser)
exclaimed, “It’s colder than a woodsmans axe
in the Klondike!” With his need to be even more emphatic,
he growled in his mumbling fashion of speech, “Yeah,
it’s cold enough to freeze the monks off a brass monastery!”
Bethel is a 73 year old who has been a motorcyclist all
his life and knows lots of things but doesn’t know
why! He’s brash, uncouth and wild west to the bone,
many of which have been broken! He fancies himself as a
natural born leader and we indulge him to a point, from
then on, he’s on his own. Trouble is, he always has
a passenger, his wife of 52 years; God bless her brave,
faithful heart!” Bethel has his tender mercies too,
he just doesn’t visit them often enough! One of his
often repeated observations is, “Now there’s
a body that needs his hash settled!” Stuck somewhere
in between the 30’s to the 50’s, Bethel has
the courage of his convictions and is a painful delight;
we think God uses him to prove a point, possibly it’s
the power of his unfathomable grace? Bethel the Lesser,
like the guy said in the movie (Pulp Fiction) is, “Trying
to be the good shepherd!”
Gorman was once the
oasis of the grapevine (Hwy. 99), considered the half way
mark of the Tejon Pass. All cars, motorcycles, buses and
trucks stopped for food, rest, fuel and engine cool down.
Going north or south was an exhausting test of man and machine.
The cartel at Gorman had a captive flow of travelers then.
With the advent of freeways, Gorman has become just another
speck on the I-5. The word on the corner is that Gorman’s
is up for sale; priced at 4 mil.? We saddled up and quickly
rode the 6 miles west to Frazier Park, a hamlet 3 blocks
long that rejects convention and forced modernization; consequently,
one gets a taste of the nostalgic great depression era.
Lots of shops and a couple of good cafes; the people are
friendly and unpretentious. Most of whom will spin you a
yarn faster than Pendleton Mills if given the chance. We
like the La Sierra Café and Felicia ‘the boss’.
She will prepare the often sought after traditional MILANESA
STEAK if you give her 3 days notice. You must call her at
her jewelry store in Bakersfield; that’s unusual ‘eh
what’? We warmed up and coffeed down at La Sierra.
‘Freeway Fred’
suggested that we make a mad dash south for some warmth,
it was 39 degrees in Frazier Park. Back to the I-5 and in
no time we were on the floor of the San Fernando Valley
in 70 degree heat and no wind; much better! Ah, ‘Freeway
Fred’. Now here’s a piece of work; an inordinately
tall, sinewy, bearded Harley rider with tats. His enormous
voice and raucous laughter have set records. Lots of seat
time and a very adept motorcyclist. Fred appears to be an
escapee thrill ride operator from some traveling carnival.
Rude in speech yet not in the wisdom of Jesus Christ. I’d
say that he would fit very nicely into the description of
St. Peter, the rough hewn fisherman. You have to get to
know him before you can fill in the blanks! Oh! I almost
forgot, ‘Freeway Fred’ has no compunction about
white lining past the CHP at 100 MPH on his
way home to his family. His numerous conversations with
law enforcement are quite humorous, we love him!
We stayed our course
and before long we were all safely home, thank the Lord.
All in all, it was a lovely day today! “Ain’t
we got fun?”
Paddy DeLucca, Chronicler
P.S. We heard that WHAM
M.C. stands for Women Harvesting Awkward Males, Menopausal
Coalition.
WEB MASTERS NOTE:
Paddy DeLucca (a non de plume) A quiet man on a quiet motorcycle
who mostly just scribbles in his journal, is known to take
poetic license with people, places and things for his own
amusement and cannot be ascribed to any other person, living
or dead!
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XHEATHENS
Highway 138 Ride 04/06/2008
The body of believers
met at 8:00 a.m. at Carl’s Jr., Corona. Ten bikes, 13
folks. The invocation was presented and we headed East on
the 91 to the 15 North. Weather was just excellent. Exited
West on Hwy. 138, good road, light traffic and enjoyable sights.
Stopped at Mountain Top Café (Wrightwood) to break
our fast; good food with entertaining service at this rustic
outpost. Proceeded West on 138, swell scenery and unusual
little shops along the way. Pulled in at Charlie Browns Farms
in Littlerock; lots of stuff and things including food, drink
and restroom. On West on Pearblossom Hwy. to the joining with
Soledad Canyon Road through Acton and Agua Dulce Canyon. The
bridges, curves and tunnel were as good as they were 50 years
ago, so was Vincent Hill. Stopped at Tippi Hedren’s
and looked through the fence at lions and tigers lying around.
Then jumped on Hwy. 14 to Sand Canyon, fueled up, back on
the 14 to the 5 and home. Glorious ride, thank God.
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