Two Wheels And A Fly Rod

Lowside; getting in and under it.

2010-03-05T18:23:00.000-08:00

Six months or more ago now I was wandering through the annals of Twitter to find motorbike fiends like myself. I found a handful a plenty from all across the nation, neigh the world. One, a group rather, is making a place for themselves and has caught my attention.

Lowside Syndicate first popped up on my radar as a lone tweet among a search for #motorcycle that was simply asking if anyone would be interested in a publication about garage built motorcycles. As a fledgling mechanic, a sucker for visual art, and a motorcycle enthusiast my heart jumped. Could there really be someone out there with the same passion as I?

Two replies, one to give me the name, the second to fill me in on their progress and expected publication date: Sept. 2009. Well, I didn't hear from Eric or Lowsidesyn for a few months after that initial connect. Not a murmur out there anywhere I could find it. Sept. came and went and I had all but forgot my initial excitement.

Then out of the great tweeting abyss a reply comes:

February 5th 12:15pm

edoubledub: @Rodneylucas it's been a while Rodney, but the magazine is finally in publication @lowsidesyn

Immediately I'm following @lowsidesyn on Twitter and scouring the profile info for a website. It is a nice website, small, simple, great picture ushering the way into the content. At that point the Store portion either wasn't up or the link was broken so I couldn't purchase the magazine.

The next day I send a reply to @edoubledub: Where can I pick one up?

He's in Baltimore, Maryland. I'm in Portland, Oregon. Four more days and he says he's sending one to me complimentary, as I was apparently the first to respond to the interest in this publication. Pretty cool, but is it at all good?

At this point I don't know what to expect. My emotions have run the gamete. Excited, thrilled, cautious of a poser, doubtful of the quality, suspicious of the cost, back to thrilled, excited. It's now been almost two weeks since I received my copy and I feel now I've had time to really analyze what it is I'm looking at, and call it for what it's worth.

Here are the facts:

It's six" wide x nine" tall

Sixty eight pages if you include the cover.

Two staples are the binding.

The publication sits heavy in my hand. A good and thick paper was used. A low gloss on every page. The cover is simple. Not like most magazines with spoilers on the outside telling you what page to turn to. No, just simple: Lowside: garage built suicide machines. Winter 2010 * Issue 1 * $6.

The price seems fair initially. Smaller publications are generally more, and I've paid upwards of $12-$15 for some really obscure stuff. There is an image of a bike on the cover. Some hard tale with a side mounted license plate from Maryland. I open the pub and it sits even better in my hand. Small enough that I can hold it in one hand without the pages flopping down to the side like Dumbo's ears.

A couple ads, a note from the editor and now I'm to the good stuff. A shadowy side profile of a guy that must be in his 60's, bearded; long and white. There is a story to go with it. You can tell the author likes this guy and isn't afraid to show it. White-beard is a good soul, you can feel it in the pages, hear it in the writing, and see it on the photos. This is a good start. I was afraid I was going to find pretentiousness. None so far. But it's only page 10.

An ad, a profile of a bike shop, another story. Whoa, there are cars in this one. I wasn't ready for that one. I thought this was all about bikes. My bad really, a suicide machine can be either/or I simply don't have one in my garage. That's what I get for making assumptions right? On to another good story, another good soul.

As I'm sitting here writing about it with the publication on the couch next to me and I simply want to quit reviewing and start reading again. I'm to the section that talks about the bike they used on the cover. Some good shit right in here that starts making me feel like I'm out there in my garage. I'll be right back, I'm going to get a Pabst.

Aah..much better. I keep going and I get to some fun parts. A ride that looks like more trouble than it's worth (and secretly planning a trip out there to attend next year). A review of a product with a picture of a guy that my wife says I'm going to look like in 40 years. He could be Santa Clause with the large white beard and twinkle in the corner of his eye. But standing next to his hog with his leathers he may also be the ruin of your Friday night.

The remaining pages follow through to profile rides, bikes, cars, small shops, and men with busted knuckles. You've got grease balls, knuckledraggers, a few almost cafes, and the list goes on. The one thing that I see in common in all of this is a do it yourself mentality. I don't see stories of some guy rolling into a shop with a checkbook in his hand wanting some more bling for his suburban garage. These guys are dirty, the gals are pretty, clean, and spunky. They do what they like and fuck anyone who doesn't. But I don't imagine they'd ever tell you to go shove it. No, they'd probably just smile and walk away enjoying a cold brew with some friends and on you go.

The quality of the print and images really is top notch. The thicker paper ads to that I think. It's artistically designed, simple, yet unique. The writing is good. The whole publication tells a story, and doesn't read like a Cycle World BMW advertisement. No offense to BMW, I personally love you guys, but you know what I mean. The writing isn't flawless. There are a few errors that a simple spell check could have caught, but the writing flows. And that I respect. Perhaps that has more to do with me dropping out as a Journalism Major in college when my Professor told me no one would employee me because they'd have to hire a copy editor just to correct my grammar.

All in all it's a great read, stimulating images, and good fun protrudes from it. At the price, being a quarterly publication currently, I'd say you get more than you paid for. This isn't a fan boy publication by any stretch, it reflects a choice of life, and as biased as I am it's a good one. You'd do well to pick a up a copy yourself from their website. Or check your local shop. Who knows, you might find one sitting silently in a magazine rack soon.

Respice Finem

2010-02-10T22:35:00.000-08:00

I've been reading much more lately than I typically do. A few blogs of note and many books. This signifies a massive shift in the symmetry of my life. I believe there are forces in which their gravitational pull are re-centering my life.

This pull began to shift at the end of October when my hours at work started to increase out of necessity. Without details this continued straight through to the end of the year at which point I forced myself to start finding intellectually stimulating sources outside of warehousing and logistics, my trade, as a simple means of escape without thought to its end.

This is where two blogs of note and a very peculiar book came into play. The first blog is The Brain Bucket, a blog on business acumen from the unique perspective of a biker. His thoughts, stated clearly as his opinion, are provoking enough to not only beckon the question "Am I doing business the best way possible?" but also, "Am I living life the best way possible?"

Read his recent post about Vendor vs. Partner and attribute the same thoughts to friendships and the quality of the relationship and see if it provokes an understanding "hmm..." from you. I can't imagine Dwain had that in the back of his mind as he was formulating his words, but nonetheless it's what was evoked.

The second blog is Motorcycle Everything, another Oregon blog whose post earlier tonight regarding thawing from winter triggered my 1,001 reasons to explain why my winter projects are not yet completed. Again, probably written from the perspective that its already February and here in Oregon many bikers just missed 5 of the clearest days of riding we'll see before the end of July. A gentle reminder that some of us still have much work to do through the spring. Now, I am a soul whom is comfortable in small progress consistently, and find it easier to attain and more rewarding on a regular basis than much progress seldom. And I'm also of the opinion that much progress consistently can not sustain a quality life.

Those the two blogs of note, and this the book: Robert M. Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values has presented itself as just that; an inquiry.

If you take these three literary units and put them together, a pattern develops before me. Or questions rather.

Am I doing life the best way?
Am I accomplishing what I set out to do?
Do these align with my values?

The inquiry Pirsig's book so ravenously explores within my mind is that before I can answer: Am I doing life the best way? and am I accomplishing what I set out to do? Or even if answered before I can start aligning them with anything I must first answer: what do I value?

If what do I value? is answered with money, wealth, status, and pride as opposed to joy, hard work, friendship, and community it will significantly impact the answers to the first two questions. Now, I must be clear in stating that no where in this thought pattern has a judgement been called as to witch values are of higher quality or more worthy of living for. I know great men and women whom value vastly varying things whom make positive impacts in their families and communities. This is simply the question that must be answered first to start this mechanism in motion.

For me the answers are beginning to form. It's unclear yet how they will settle in finality, and perhaps it's incorrect to assume that they ever will settle or finalize.

What is clear though is that each one is evoking change in my thought and life. Some how the forces enacted by asking these questions are causing a realignment, a shift, a re-centering and symmetry of such a calming and secure nature I didn't know existed.

It's subtly changing the way I walk through this world and is starting to get my mind wondering how each of you, my friends, are walking through this world and what such a vast array it must be.

The Beginning: Part Deux

2010-01-30T13:47:00.000-08:00

The Beginning: Part One briefly mentioned my great friend E. R. Sprague and a little shout out to him. I quickly switched to a back story and never came back around. By then it was 2 a.m. on Friday morning and decided to instead of fix it, I would call it part one and follow it up with a part deux tying it all together.

This is part deux.

Five years after that accident and I hadn't touched a motorcycle since that day. Partly due to my friends feigning for my safety and not letting me touch their bikes, but I think they were truly more worried about their bikes. My fascination with motorbikes didn't change at all. I can't say that I was passionate about them yet, but they certainly hadn't left my mind. For my senior project, which everyone had to do to graduate high school, I made an extreme sports video. Truth be told, I video taped a lot of extreme sports that year but never learned how to put it all together.

At this point, five years later, is when I ran into Eliot. R. Sprague at my new job. I knew several people at this place before I started, and one of my good friends James told me, "You'll get along great with the guy that sits here. He hunts, and rides motorcycles." Truth be told when he got back from vacation and I did meet him I was very intimidated.

Some how over that next year we became friends. He bought me a cordless drill and shop light set for my birthday and started to ensure I had all the things I needed to be a man out on his own. One day while at his house for lunch I noticed he had a big dirt-bike in his garage. I didn't ask about it. Simply took note and muddled along. I believe he told me it had a broken frame, and consequently he had also broken his foot at the same time. I think.

Throughout that year, James, whom had introduced me to Eliot, and I started looking at buying motorbikes. I was mostly just dreaming, although if I had had any money I probably would have bought new, and I think James was just dreaming to. At least he was after his girlfriend found out about it. She wanted none of that! Too bad really, I think he would have been a lot of fun to ride with.

I think one of the things that solidified it for Jen, James' girlfriend at the time and now wife, was when James, his friend, and I went down to the local Honda shop because his friend wanted to test drive the new 600F4I. Twenty minutes later, after wondering where he went for a joy ride at, he rolls up missing 1/2 the fenders, a bloody arm and a bent steer bar. He rode home that night with the same bike. Not sure if it was due to feeling bad that he had wrecked it, or if he just loved it that much regardless of the fact that he just wrecked it. Either way, Jen was fanatically against bikes at that time. Exit James, enter Eliot full throttle.

It wasn't a few months later that I started looking at craigslist and simultaneously noticed that Eliot was riding a motorcycle into work. It wasn't the dirt bike I once saw in his garage, this was different. This was a 1982 Honda CB650. It looked old, and tired, and not at all like the bike I envisioned myself on (at the time a 97' Honda Magna 750).

It wasn't but a short time later after seeing Eliot do some performance upgrades to it that I started to fall in love. A few more craigslist ads and a two hour lunch later and we rolled back to work with my own 1982 CB650. What I was thinking I have no idea. I had just received a large birthday gift from a relative after a family deal had gone through. I had no endorsement, had never ridden a street legal bike before, wasn't even sure where I was going to park it.

The bike was as old as I was. It was not at all what I had envisioned starting out on. But immediately I knew it was my long lost brother. My twin. Separated at birth. But that was just the beginning.

The Beginning: Part 1

2010-01-28T23:36:00.001-08:00

Earlier tonight I gave a shout out to my good friend, and sometimes confidant E. R. Sprague. If you haven't yet seen it, check out my Facebook page. (yes, this is a shameless display of self promotion)

I'll see how quickly I can get through this back story. I don't want to leave out details, yet I'll refrain from boring either. It was my jr. year of high school. Many friends and I had been planning to go camping up the Kilchis River for quite some time. We arrived at Aaron Wiricks house. Aaron lived at the foothills of the Kilchis basin. Several miles still from the pain, where the river wove through the open valley before mixing it's freshness with the saltiness of the ocean and bay. The foothills. That's all they were really. You could drive for miles. 70 miles approximately is all it would take to reach the great Willamette Valley. Aaron lived right at the foot of them. Close enough to the ocean to smell the salt air and feel it's mist, but far enough away you didn't smell the seaweed.

We all arrived at his house as a last place to park our cars and carpool up the river about 5 miles. As a junior in high school 5 miles was an eternity away from home. Now, as an adult, it doesn't come close to breaking into the wild.

I can't remember who all was to go up there that weekend. The departure day is a bit of a fog. I remember Aaron. Amy Schild, whom later (or before) I had a huge crush on. I even remember her kissing me once, briefly, but she'll never admit it. Jacob Hoyt I believe. Perhaps Sonya. Jacob Day. Ezra? No, I don't think he was there. And Daniel. Daniel Lusby.

I remember showing up early. Those later years of high school I recall much more time at his home than my own. Although now that history has past my mind vaguely remembers that and responds fondly to my own house hold. But that is another story. I always showed up early to the Wirick house hold. In 6 years I can only remember not feeling welcome 2 times. Shortly after I showed, Jacob Hoyt, then Amy, then Daniel arrived.

Daniel showed up in a pick up. In the back he had a motorbike. I don't remember what year. But if I had to guess I think it was a 1974 Yamaha 550. It was a street bike, but had big knobby tires. It was Daniels fathers. His baby. and it hadn't been ridden in years. I was enamored by the bike, as I had never ridden one.

Jacob started it up for Daniel and shortly Jacob was riding around the field. I presumed he knew what he was doing. To this day I don't know for sure, but I think he was fairly mechanical. Those Hoyt boys. I think Daniel rode it around the field a time or two and the more and more I saw these two riding the more excited and anxious I became.

At one point I think I was jumping up and down, hardly able to contain my excitement not only for the camping trip, but also for a chance to ride the bike. They continued to ask me if I had ridden before, and I had not. But that did not come close (or even cross my mind that it should) to deterring me from getting on that bike. I quickly asked Jacob what controlled what and was on my way. I rode around the field. At no greater than 30 miles an hour. Tall grass laying everywhere from the heavy wind and rain. I could feel my back tire slipping among the slick grass. I was shifting. I was accelerating, it was excellent!

I rounded about and came back toward my friend. As I approached I laid off the throttle and put my foot on what I now know to be the rear break. Nothing happened. I don't know if I wasn't pushing hard enough or if it wasn't connected. All I know is I didn't stop. Fortunately I was going slow enough that a great rhododendron bush in the front yard stopped me completely. We quickly had the bike out of the bush and back up on the gravel drive. I was so full of adrenaline and excitement. I was acting more like a 3rd grader in a comic store than a jr. in high school. I grabbed the bike from Jacob again, hopped on, and hit the throttle.

I'm certain that between that moment, and what I remember next, time froze. Somewhere, between turning that throttle and waking up I had a) spun gravel a mile behind me b) blazed narrowly past 2 friend c) T-boned a fence post d) lately realized it was a barbed wire fence post e) took a foot peg to the ankle and finally f) missed the entire camping trip for a trip to the hospital and 13 weeks in a cast.

I didn't ride again for 5 years. But that, is another story.

A Rare Opportunity

2010-01-14T12:20:00.000-08:00

Well, a unique opportunity has presented itself to me. Something I have always wanted to do. I have a chance to ride a motorbike across the country, from east coast to west coast. But before I get into that, let me give you a little history.

I have four brothers. Zach, Chad, Josh, Cole aged oldest to youngest. We may not say it much, but after my lady they are my four closest friends. Call it a brothers bond or whatever you will, but I'd lay down my life for these four.

Cole and Josh are years younger than Chad, Zach, and I due to the fact that we have different fathers. Cole and Josh are still in high school and progressing through with much more success than I. Cole is a ladies man, kind hearted, meek, loving, always thinking of other people. Josh, well, I think he's a mix between myself and my great friend Aaron. Josh takes after me in looks. Not to say we look alike. We don't. I look like my father, he looks like his. But, I'm dashing and so is he. Yes, this is said with a bit of arrogance. But, this is my story so I'll elaborate where I want to. Josh is a jock, playing baseball religiously; a choir boy, singing in the vocal ensemble; an avid music lover, recently picked up an electric keyboard and taught himself how to play; a book worm, he gets good grades with a relative amount of ease. Neither one know how to clean their rooms.

Chad is a year younger than I. For this, we fought a lot. I remember throwing him across the room when I was in 6th grade and he in 5th. Not sure why. I also remember him pulling a knife on me and threatening to stab me. So...I did the only rational thing at the time and pulled a bigger one and did try to stab him. I should be careful here not to elaborate too much for fear that I'll paint our childhood a violent one. It was not. But to also show love for my brother, it was that same year during a bus ride home that a neighbor, and I say that loosely as we lived in the country, was picking on Chad. I was tired of it so on the way off the bus I punched him in the face as hard as I could. His head hit the window, it broke, although I'm not sure if the cracking sound was his head or the window. Chad is now grown. As successful, if not more, than I am in business. He's much better looking and could grow a beard to rival mine if he ever got up enough courage.

This leads me to Zach. Gregory Zachary Scott Lucas to be exact. It's hard to tell where to start with Zach. He's the oldest child. Always looked after us, but never carried us, always made us walk through life. He was smarter than I growing up, as far as books were concerned. I remember him wearing Jesus sandals and rainbow belts and shoelaces, etc in high school. I thought he was trying to be a hippy most of the time, but also heard that he might have been trying to take the rainbow back from the gays. Apparently he didn't think it was fair that only gays could wear those colors. A bit of a rebel that one.

He went off to college. Randomly drove across the country to visit a girl. Dropped out of college. Moved in with our father. Worked construction. Joined the Marine Corps and that is where he is at today. 6 or so years after joining and he is now an officer, married, two beautiful kids, strict, passionate about numbers, business, motorcycles, the Marine Corps, and his family, in no particular order.

My older brother, who I never fully understood, and still don't is the same today that he was 15 years ago. He always stood, protecting us as best he could, watching, keeping the worst at bay. He is still doing that. Today, though he keeps us all safe, guarded. He's the shadow on top of that wall, with the big ass gun pointed at any outsider who wanders too close. I don't care your politics, what side of the isle you are on, or if you are standing in the middle. That is the life of a marine. The life of an older brother.

For this reason I am honored to have been asked to guard something that led to this great opportunity I mentioned earlier. He's asked me to watch over his motorcycle. His only motorcycle. His brand new Harley Davidson. To be exact it's a 2009 Harley Davidson Sportster Iron 883.

To give you an idea of what this means to me. I was into bikes long before he. I own two Honda CB650's. One sleeper, the other is slowly on it's way to being a street tracker. The monetary value of both combined, after all the work, is still less than half the value of my brothers Iron. Last year I started this blog to document my longer rides. Not my daily commute, or even Saturday runs around town, but really getting out and hitting roads I've never seen. I live in Portland, Oregon. The Iron is in Stafford, Virginia.

I knew one day in the next few years I wanted to take some time and ride around the United States. I didn't think that the opportunity would present itself so soon after, and on a bike I have to worry much less about breaking down along some back county road in Alabama.

This is an opportunity I plan to never forget.

False Insecurities

2010-01-06T22:30:00.000-08:00

I have so much to learn. She's afraid, my wife, of the risks of trying. Not the money, well that too, but what it will do to me if for all my trying I just can't win.

I say bullocks! Don't you win just for trying? Maybe not the prize you initially envisioned, but certainly something just as valuable.

Just like riding a motorcycle, the same thing could be said about horses, and probably was, you always get back on. What I think I never told her was that my first time on a bike I crashed. Right into a post of barbed wire fence. We were supposed to go camping that day. Instead I rode a motorcycle and landed in the hospital with a broken ankle.

I remember sitting at home the next day, foot in cast for 6 weeks, and thinking about all the things my friends were saying as they still went camping. What jokes were they making? What fool did they think me to be?

I grinned and didn't care...I rode that steel horse and I was going to get on it again. It didn't matter the destination or how I stopped, simply that I took it for a ride.

The risk is there everyday. A fool be the man that stands on false securities. Me...I'll stand on those foot pegs, 8 inches off the Tarmac at 65 M.P.H. headin straight into the sun.

Ain't Nothing Like a Little Recognition

2009-12-15T22:44:00.000-08:00

I think, I'm not sure, but I think, that today was the first day anyone on the World Wide Web has linked to this specific blog. It is an honor, and a wake up call. It's been months, but I've found myself recently back to the place where this was all derived, and now...

I find myself looking forward, to the future. I had a great lunch with a friend of mine, E.R. Sprague, on Monday. We're both trying to get set a snowball in motion of our dreams, our passions. We're both trying to get the damn things out of our heads, and either onto paper, or built and into useful hands. We find it very difficult, very frustrating, and very un-motivating. But every once in a while...things just seem to come together.

To me, building this dream was very much like rebuilding the top end for my 1982 CB650. It was scary, simply because I'd never done it before. I knew there was a lot of pieces, and I could spend hours, days even, taking them apart, cleaning them, analyzing them never to put them back together again. And that was my fear! That I would never put it back together. 21 hrs straight of dismantling my first top end last year. I bagged and tagged every washer, nut, bolt, and even a piece of old crusty chain grease that had solidified so much I thought it was part of the starter assembly. I wasn't quite as scared when I finished the tear down that night. Knowing I could come back tomorrow, open up the container I had organized and either associate a part number, a serial number, or a made up number I had come up with, with a picture or section in the manual somewhere.

You see, through the whole process I really had no idea how I was going to get to where I knew I needed to be. I didn't know what all was going to be entailed in taking that top end off. But I knew that if I "tagged and bagged" everything along the way, if I ever messed up, it would be like leaving a bread crumb trail back to home.

So as I sit here knowing the point at which I want to be some day soon, I still have a very unclear picture of the path it's going to take to get there. But I'm tagging and bagging all the nuts and bolts along the way. Oh, and that CB...she made it back together. A couple of bad timing jobs and broken bolts, she's fast enough to startle me when I twist the throttle fully.

The Sadness Is Mine

2009-07-26T15:54:00.000-07:00

Ryan Adams said this, "the sadness is mine."
Today, I say it. Sadness, realizing that I am the most productive by myself, but most motivated when with other people. Now, that is a rather large discrepancy. How do I reconcile that? I get most motivated when other people are around, but I get more done when they leave?

What am I suppose to do? "Hey Chad, yeah, can you come over for I dunno, 20 minutes, and give me a pep talk", I'd say. Then 20 minutes in, "Okay, now get the F out!"

I don't see how that works. I love to share my idea's with people, with friends, but when I do, I don't get much movement on them. But when I keep them bottled up, I need to see some sort of movement, so they come out in actually getting it done.

Then there is the side of me, that after sharing my dreams, and good ones they are, with a friend, I immediately turn around and think that they might steal my idea and do it themselves. After all, they have more money, more connections, etc. So then I talk myself into trust issues with my closest friends.

As you can see, the sadness is mine. And still no running bike to take it out on the road.
Damn shame.

Aaron's Bike Path

2009-06-30T01:23:00.000-07:00

We all take different paths to our first two-wheeled purchase. I'm not talking about rambling a pedal bike down a creek drainage for the first time, though the title suggests it. And I'm not talking about the '68 Rok-on that you saddled up every time you went to your cousin's farm. I'm talking about the first time the conscious decision was made and the dear cash handed over in exchange for internal combustion between two tires. When friends tell me that they want to buy their first motorcycle I tend to calculate an instant power-to-weight ratio of sorts for the rider's weight, body-type and physical ability, etc. What usually comes spilling out is a bike that is controllable and fun enough to never out-grow. But just tonight, I read an old blog from one of the Cycle World writers and I am reminded that not everyone's path is the same.

02.01.2007
GETTING SMALL
by Keith May

I am just realizing, but Nathanwide and his CB100 already understand, that sometimes it's better to just ramble along. You get to see more trees, more leaves, and take more time to stare down that Douglas Squirrel in the middle of Camp Sherman Lane. There is more experience in the world around the pavement and maybe more freedom, but even if I'm wrong about that I now believe I need to make room in my stable for smaller bikes.

So why did I decide yesterday that this was the next addition to my fleet? It only comes in that yellow and I still want it... unless I find a mid-70's XL250 before Aaron.

TWAFR Teaser 1 HWY 138 E Crater Lake to 97 N

2009-06-25T11:06:00.000-07:00

Below is just an unedited teaser. Camera shots are bad as the road was bumpy. But if you look closely, it is beautiful country.

First Up

2009-06-18T09:10:00.000-07:00

Day 2: 9:11 a.m.:

I am the first to rise, by almost two hours. Nit hardly a sound from the others, save a muffled snore from Officer Hillson, and a once and a again rustling from someone rolling against a tent wall. I keep thinking Aaron is going to rise, but he never does.

A Long Winding Road

2009-06-17T22:12:00.000-07:00

And so we go. The six, we go. Four riding high. Two riding low. A late start, but hospitable. Pizza, and a "don't forget to pee before you go.".

Fiddling with gadgets and I'm questioning how much of a break from reality this truly will be. Videos and cameras, iPhones and Twitter. How can I share with the world when I'm trying to get away.

A long road. Salem. Then, Albany. A missed turn and...

...there it is. "did you see that sunset?!", he screams after rolling into camp. It's dark now, the camp host wishes a fun, but quiet night. A hollar..."then, that's when...it all came pouring out and I realized I was gone..here I mean. Right there in Dallas as you turn toward the west. The sun was setting right then. Pouring golden rays across the valley floor.

It's dinner now. Dogs. Not on the open fire tonight though. No real wood could be found. They said you could find some across the street at John-boys, but he too must be lost.

We did well I think, to pick this spot. Nestled in close to the Alsea river. We are probably only 20 mikes from Waldport as the crow flies. It's getting late. We are stoked to be on the road, in the quiet place.

Update: 12:07 a.m. Day 2:
I had a longer day than most, having risen at 5am. So naturally I'm the first to bed. I've got a lump under my bed. This ground is no where near even. The 5, they sit around the fuming fire, quiet yet bristling with joy and muffled laughter. They have respect for the other two campers in this 20 site campground. I'm out, sooner than I thought.

Update: 1:47 a.m. Day 2:
It's loud outside and I don't know why. It's not coherent yet. I have to wait for the scene to settle in my mind, for those gears to start turning. I look at my clock. I've only been out an hour or so. What is that ruckus?
I hear people. Are they my people? Part of us 6? I hear music, a guitar, we brought a guitar, it must be at least one of the Truebs.
Then it comes into focus. Nathan Wide is playing his guitar and singing. It's a beautiful sound when you adjust after the wakening. 10 more minutes and I'm out.

We Are They

2009-06-17T15:43:00.000-07:00

For sake of not plagiarizing I have posted this link to my favorite Robert W. Service writing: http://www.robertwservice.com/modules/smartsection/item.php?itemid=82

Here, now, we start our adventure.

An Un-Answered Prayer to The Motorcycle God's

2009-06-17T07:17:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what it was that lead me to this. It could have been the ill timing, my inexperience, or rushing to get things done. Some how I tightened a bolt so tight that I broke (1) easy out, (5) black oxide bits, and devoured (4) grinding heads, and it is still locked in there. I prayed to the motorcycle god's, and recruited help from a friend, and after 12 or more labor hours on that bolt we finally called it quits last night so I could rest up for the big day.
Sunday night, the Captain's wife said to him, that maybe we should take this as a sign. That maybe this happened to save us from something terrible. Not quite the words one wants to hear from a family member. It was quickly shrugged off, and back to my bolt I did go. Two days ago I had readied myself for the possibility, or perhaps the reality, that I would be spending much more time with the Fly Rod, than with Two Wheels on this trip.
It's not as though we are taking an extra vehicle. A follow vehicle, and a trailer with a CB100 on it, was always the plan. My younger brother was slotted to drive the truck and trailer. He has considerably more experience than the other two with a trailer, but still less than is desired. As well, yesterday, my brother (whom just moved to Oregon from California) was told by a very friendly police officer, that he was not legal to drive in Oregon. Without getting into specific details, he could no longer drive the truck on the trip. Just the sign I needed. At that moment I realized that perhaps the bolt did break for a reason, but not to keep us from impending doom. But rather, to enable 3 other men to enjoy what will be a most spectacular trip.
Had my bolt not broken, and I was able to ride my motorcycle, I would be rather upset in the current situation; being torn between riding, and towing the trailer. But as it stands, I must resign myself to destiny, to actuality, and for the greater good of the other men on the trip.
I threw in my helmet and gear this morning, just in the off chance that I may be blessed with some riding time, on a bike that is not my own, on this wonderful first of summer trip.

The Audible: A Game-Time Decision

2009-06-13T11:14:00.000-07:00

"Far above the Rogue River's famed salmon and steelhead holes, thousands of fish per mile can be found in what is one of Oregon's most productive, yet often overlooked trout fisheries. Between Crater Lake and Lost Creek Lake, in an area known as the Rogue headwaters, anglers enjoy fish-after-fish action for feisty hatchery rainbows. Energized by the cool water trickling from deep in the Cascades, the far Upper Rogue's trout are chrome bright, full of fight, and willing biters."

I thought this was a fitting article in the May issue of Amato Publications Salmon Trout Steelheader.

Photo Courtesy of Oregon Motorcycle Adventures

Salmonberry

2009-06-11T00:50:00.000-07:00

Nestled through the lush western part of Oregon, beautiful grape like bushes emerge. As ample as vines during wine season in France. Big ripe bushells, longing to be picked, plucked and eaten.
Nestled, halfway between Intestate 5 and Highway 101, lay a quaint, yet accessible 13 site campground. Perched, atop a flat meadow, looking down on the quiet Alsea River. Just 50 miles from it's north fork headwaters it winds, beckoning highway 34 to follow. Playing hide-and-seek along the way, the river dodges the highway, retreating into an every once again draw, grabbing a fresh breath, before returning to flirt with it's traveling mate through to the coast.
Two and a half hours from our trailhead, we should reach our first destination before dark. Well out of the city, it will give us a nice jump start, for our first full day, following.
This site, provides a great backdrop to begin this adventure. A common river for drift boats, and fly fishing, our silent captain will be pleased.
The meadow is framed by age old alder trees. Long and slender they stand, dancing, ballarinas on the stage, a simple quiet audience.
I hear the Trueb brothers. They are playing their guitars. Seldom too they add their vocals, sweet though they may be. The captain, is already at sea, and has been since mile one. This knowledge makes me smile, and I know this is right. This time, this place, this adventure.
My brother sees the Captain, and hearing the brothers, finally finds a place to rest. His body cries, unnoticed as he finally feels the freedom. He has let go.
Officer Hillson is always at home. This ride did not satisfy. His soul beckons more. He's wondering why we stopped and what took us so damn long.
They are pleased, them all. Each one, getting used to their own skin once again as their masks, their costumes, slowly flake away in the breeze that makes the alders dance.
I look at them. Sit back. I smile.

You Are My Hero

2009-06-08T12:37:00.000-07:00

Yesterday;
Gray;
Cloudy;
Hot;
Funny;
Smiles;
Laughter;
Too much food;
Graduation;
My Lady;
My bike;
My hero;

It was a busy day. Attending an event of the religiously organized only to hear a kid scream while a man in a goatee was pouring out edification, all the while..me...wanting to sucker punch a 20 something female in the face for gabbing on about the kid screaming while a man in a goatee was pouring out edification. This isn't the religiously organized event for me.
From there, a stop, for gas, a bottle of water...why'd you drink it all?
Over the St. Johns bridge the Willamette was wonderful, serene, wet, but the sun was trying to sneak through.
We stopped, with great anticipation at the honda shop in Beaverton. It's a bit large for my taste, but the guys seem to be helpful. I purchased new riding gear, black, retro-reflective. I told my wife all I need is a Katana. She asked, "whatever for?" I said, "So I can be a biker ninja!" She laughed, and said she loved me.
While at the store I stopped to look at this. My hero, my love.
The quality is great. Endorsed by some very high end athletes, and the price is very reasonable. I'm curious to know how quickly the batteries charge, and how much real recording time one can get.
This would be the perfect addition to the trip, beyond the other camera I will be obtaining.

Nathan Wide

2009-06-05T10:44:00.000-07:00

R: Nate, I hope you saw the "interview" I did with your brother. Same style. Feel free to answer them any way that you like. You can be serious, or nervous, or just down right wacky. The idea is to give our readers an idea into who we are, or who we want them to think we are.

R: Cool?

R: Okay, here we go

R: So Nate? Nathan? Natey? Frank? What do you prefer to go by?

N: Usually people call me Nathan, and sometimes Nate. That's about it. Not too exciting. Maybe the trip will be a good place to receive a nickname.

R: Cool, so I guess we should start by asking who you are, and why I'm doing an interview with you?

N: I am Nathan Trueb. I'm a musician who lives in Portland that likes all things vintage, including motorcycles.

R: Okay, so that's cool and all, but really, in the big scheme of things...who are you? I mean as it pertains to the universe.

N: Dust in the wind... right? Did I get it right?

R: So I think everyone knows what this trip is and where we are going. How'd you get hooked up with me and Eliot for this trip. I don't even think I know how you got roped into these shenanigans..

N: Eliot definitely coaxed me into going. We were hanging out welding a statue of a large-mouth-bass and taking copious amounts of Peyote, and it hit me... my whole life has been leading up to this trip. Oreo, his pet chicken, squawked in a way that spoke volumes of knowledge, knowledge from the future, and that future involved three things: hot springs, men, and fried trout. That's when I knew.

R: Wow, okay men and fried trout eh? Not my thing but okay... so what is your goal for this trip? Anything profound or are you just coming to ride bikes and drink beer?

N: I hope to discover a part of Oregon that has not yet been discovered. I've been trying to bone-up on my cartography skills, and I've also read Sun Tzu's, "The Art of War", 7 times... just in case.

R: Whats your lady friend going to do while you are gone? Are you going to call her while you are gone?

N: She will probably be hard at work fixing a hole where the rain gets in. Yes, I will call her, as my service allows.

R: Ha, leave the lady to do the mans work huh?
So the other day we were hanging out at the.barrage, and you were wearing cut off jean shorts. Whats up with that? Are you trying to make some sort of retro statement or something?

N: I actually hate wearing shorts. I don't know if it's due to some traumatic experience that I have repressed, but what I do know is that I would rather where cut-off jean-shorts than any other kind of shorts, and I have no idea why.

R: Okay, switching gears here. We're on the road-trip, and the world ends, or at least life as we know it. No phones, cars stop working, but motorbikes still work. We have to stick together or die. What do you do? What skills do you have that keep you alive?

N: Funny you should ask. I'm an expert with toddlers, and I am working on a shot that gives friends the flu... as a joke.

R: Also, are you wearing underwear...

N: ... ...

R: no..? weird, but okay.

R: So hows your music career coming? Tell us more about that?

N: I am making a living playing and teaching and that is more than I
could ask for. My favorite part of my music career is making music
with the band Aaron and I started called, Tango Alpha Tango. We are
always recording and playing live, which is really great. The only
thing that we haven't done much of is get on the road. I feel like I
was one of the few people made for a life on the road. I love
traveling in vans/buses around the country playing music. It's what I
hope to do. A lot of musicians that "make it" always complain about
life on the road... I don't think I would be one of those people.
Maybe that's another reason why this trip sounded so appealing...
because I have never done a road trip with motorcycles, camping, and
fishing, etc.

R: You are really taking some time away to come on this trip then, you could be
writing music or practicing. Is this going to hurt you going into the
summer, or do you think ti's going to help?

N: It will help. It's always a good thing to "take a break" from the
monotony of life. Often times when I'm forced to do that, like going
on a trip like this, I come back to music, and my instrument with a
very fresh approach, and new ideas. Of course, I'm sure we'll have an
acoustic or two, so I won't be completely removed, I guess.

R: Can I play the mouth harp in one of your songs?

N: No. Well, maybe, what do I get out of the deal?

R: Umm....you get to have me play the mouth harp in one of your songs....nevermind?

R: Do you think you'll figure out how to plug motorcycles into your next
album? either in lyrics, artwork, or as an instrumental? I have to say,
throwing some motorbike in somewhere might give you a bit of street cred!

N: Not sure if there will be any motorcycle references... you know the
last album had a line,

"I heard from the man who reads the polls,
That you still had a motorcycle of a soul"

From- "I Have Stopped Thinking About You"

R: Cool, well I'm hungry, and you're kinda boring, so whats one last thing you
want to say to all of our hip followers?

N: Well, just so you know I'm watching you, literally. Right this
moment. And no, you don't look good in your wife's heels.

R: Haha, well that's great... Well thanks for your time Nathan. We'll look for you on the road!

ArtandSurf - Cycles and Flies

2009-05-20T00:10:00.000-07:00

I am real excited to hang with Spencer -
...and that is all i have to say about that.

Aaron Jacob Trueb (ha, just realized that doesn't spell A.R.T.)

2009-05-19T22:12:00.000-07:00

One of the things I wanted to do was to introduce anyone who may be reading this to everyone who will be participating in this "ride" or "trip", whatever you wish to call it. We have an eclectic group of men that are all coming together, and hopefully, by the questions asked, and the questions answered, you may get a glimpse into who we are, and why we ride.

R`: So Aaron, Two Wheels And A Fly Rod, eh? What the hell does that mean anyway?

A`: To me it means a long open road - hills, the ocean, and grass instead of parking lots and freeways. Stars instead of street lights. Guitars and conversation around the warmth of the fire instead of blank stares into the glow of a TV screen. A long drive with Don Williams and friends instead of the rush hour commute. Sunlight instead of fluorescent.

R`: So what bike will you be riding?

A`:Once in the summer I rode this little Honda in my parents field, I think it's what they call a "100." I gave that throttle all I had, and the next thing I knew the back tire had slipped against the dry grass and I was laying there with a motorcycle on top of me, thinking about how I wanted to get up and do it again. I think I'll take that bike.

R`: Do you believe in Lake Monsters? Rumor has it that Crater Lake has one or two that survived the Alien Spaceship landing there? You think they'd be good marinated in BBQ sauce?

A`: If there is a Lake Monster in Crater Lake, I don't want to eat it. I want to ride that thing! Ok, I have to be honest I have been wanting to shoot something with my wrist rocket, and I plan to bring it on the trip. So, we may end up eating pretty well once we get to Crater Lake.

R`: How do you think this trip will shape your destiny?

A`: It's hard to say, although I do think everything happens for a reason. Or at least, something life-changing can happen to you on any trip you find yourself on. I expect to come back having learned something from the guys on this trip, and loving life even more.

Also, I like to watch this clip from Waiting for Guffman (one of my all time favorite movies), and imagine Corky St. Claire is talking about how our trip came together:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJ1IP0H7574

R`: Woah okay, I'm getting a little off track here, with monsters and Destiny and such...tell me more about you? How'd you get wrapped up in this trip, with this random set of banditos?

A`: Well, Rodney and Eliot are really the instigators of this trip, and I've been friends with those guys for a couple years now. For months and months I'd been overhearing conversations about a road trip. I love getting out on the road and camping and all that, but I've never done much riding so I kind of thought the trip wasn't for me. But one night we were hanging out at Rodney's place, the.barrage, and they said I should come along. I've been friends with Officer Hillson for awhile now; we work together - I always know he's there in the morning by the roar of his bike as he cruises in. Nathan Trueb is my brother and my best friend next to my wife. He recently got a nice bike, but I'm sure he'll tell you about that! I'm really looking forward to getting to know Chad, Rodney's brother better on this trip.

R`: So rumor has it your a TAT man? Does that mean tattoo's, are you like an artist or something?

A`: Nathan and I have a rock and roll band we call Tango Alpha Tango, or TAT for short. For sure music is an art, but I don't typically refer to myself as an artist. I play piano, tambourine, and sing a bit in the group. I write a lot of my own songs as well. Maybe someday someone will refer to us as 'recording artists,' but for now I'm happy with Eliot calling us rockers.

R`: Interesting, so how does your music passion fit in with the rest of this gang? It seems all random...music, motorcycles, fishing? I mean really?

A`: Well, whether they are players or not, I am pretty sure all the guys on this trip are music lovers. I've had some great conversations about music with Scott and Rodney. And I've been to a number of great rock shows with Eliot. Plus, in this group of friends, we like to encourage each other's passions. All the things you mentioned are different passions for different guys on the trip. And we really all want to see each other work hard towards those dreams. "I'll be the expediter of your dreams." - call that movie quote.

Q: How about some words of wisdom for the kids out there? Anything to encourage them by? I mean you could be mean and mislead the little ones...actually do..that sounds like fun...!!!

R`: Well, really the words of Jesus have been the biggest encouragement to me throughout my life. One thing he said I like to try to live by is "Don't worry about tomorrow, because today as enough trouble of it's own." I would encourage any kid out there young and old, to take your own hard look at what Jesus had to say about life and himself. It might change your life, it did mine.

R: If I get the time, would you mind if I stopped back by the studio and asked you some more questions?

A`: Any time. Just call me up!

~Well, that's just a little look into who "T-rueb" is. Based on his questions, and the fact that I emailed him these questions, yeah yeah yeah, no studio involved it just makes me feel awesome to say that, I think there will probably be a little follow up on some of his answers before we hit the road on June 17th. And you can be sure that we will follow up with him after this trip~

Feel free to check out Tango Alpha Tango a little more by following these links:

Google Image Search: http://bit.ly/jTBf8
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Tango-Alpha-Tango/26318440089
MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/tangoalphatango
Studio: http://www.outgorecords.com/tango-alpha-tango.php

It's All Starting To Come Together

2009-05-16T19:26:00.000-07:00

Update: Last night, May 15th, we ended up getting together at Aaron Trueb's house to discuss the remainder of the trip. (This was previously going to be at Finchasers) We did a lot of talking, and planning and dreaming, just very little regarding our trip. The time was well spent. Even had Joe show up on his Yamaha with a beat up seat, and of course we tried to talk him into going. He's a maybe..but I'm getting ahead of myself.

We now have 6 confirmed members as of yesterday, where previously there were 3. The first and original 3 we have riding are: Rodney Lucas (that'd be me), Eliot Sprague, and Aaron Trueb. Yesterday, these three made their intent to ride official as well: Scott Hillson, Nathan Trueb, and Chad Lucas. And we still have 3 invitations with an RSVP of maybe: Mike Peterson, Joe Barker, and Ryan Kunkleman.

So far, we have very little figured out completely, and we leave in T-31 days. What we do have figured out, and what remains tentative, is looking like a lot of fun. The first night we plan on leaving as quickly as everyone can get off of work. Hopefully not later than 6pm. Our destination? The appreviously mentioned Cougar (Terwilliger) Hotsprings.

Everything after the first night at this point is tentative based on majority rider approval. We're all a bunch of pretty laid back guys, so I don't expect any disagreements here. You can check out the potential route here: http://bit.ly/15Hfbv

The last night will be spent in Brookings with our friends at ArtandSurf.com where hopefully we can get a good shower and relax before a long drive home the following day.

Stay tuned later for an introduction to the riders of "Two Wheels And A Fly Rod".

Postie Post And Too Tight of Pants

2009-05-12T12:46:00.000-07:00

This is not what we are doing...but it looks like a ton of fun!

http://www.bikeexif.com/postie-bike-challenge

Thank you Bruce Brown

2009-05-12T09:24:00.000-07:00

Friday night, May 15th, the "Two wheels and a fly rod" lot will be getting together at Finchasers to discuss the remainder of the trip. Hopefully we'll be able to wrangle the last few pansies who have yet to commit, into signing up for THE BEST TRIP EVER!

I figure with some of the.barrage.ale, some of Eliot's delicious ribs, and Bruce Brown's "On Any Sunday" should be a great enough selection. If that isn't enough, perhaps the excitement of those of us that are going will coerce the remaining few!

A little Voodoo might help

2009-03-17T21:50:00.000-07:00

So I'm a twitter fan, kinda of. I use it, and think it's a quite useful tool for the current societal connection phenomenon. Anyway, I just won a t-shirt via Twitter from @voodoogarage for winning a St. Patty's Day contest. You can see the t'shirt here. Now, I like cool merchandise, but I'm not big into branding. I'm curious to see if he'd be interested in either making some t-shirts for this trip we will be doing, or possibly doing some t-shirts for The Barrage.

A little long-distance modification?

2009-02-26T09:39:00.000-08:00

Could this be attached to the seats with some ratcheting tie-downs from costco?

Destination 1: Cougar Hot Springs

2009-02-11T18:52:00.000-08:00

Somewhere between Eugene and Sisters lay a quiet, serene hot spring.
Still rustic, not disturbed by societal inventions and engineering,
the pools are formed by native rock, stone, and bark.

This is where we will spend the first night. The next morning we'll
rise early and cast the McKenzie for our breakfast before moving on.

Number Four

2009-02-10T22:45:00.000-08:00

The Stock CB650 I mentioned yesterday needs some work. Now, I don't mean it won't ride, or even that it won't ride well. She is just crying for some love. In all this Pacific Northwest winter blunderness I think she may just want to curl up next to me and R2 (my cleverly nick-named, kerosene furnace, named for it's subtle resemblance of the Star Wars Icon), and spend a little time together.

For example; tonight I spent 3 hours sitting on my cooler.It is one of those nifty tail gating coolers with cup holders in the lid that fits a cool can of Pabst smoothly. In one cup holder sat just that; a cool can of Pabst, smoothly. In the other: roughly 50 Q-Tips. Between the two on the lid sat my Ryobi shoplight. The one with the large battery and a swivel head, provided to me almost four years ago by Eliot to a young-man in need of a hobby. On the floor in front of that was a small Tupperware with just enough mineral spirits to cover the bottom of the container.

I spent those hours taking a single Q-Tip, dipping one end in the mineral spirits and scrubing ferociously at the number 4 exhaust header opening, turning the Q-Tip around and wiping off the grease and grime. Followed by a nice smooth sip of Pabst. Repeat 50 times and you've cleaned number four fairly thoroughly and a little around the whole.

All in all, a pretty romantic evening curled up by my CB. And of course completely worth it to spend a few days on the Owyhee casting a fly after a 3 day ride with the best of friends by ones side.

Gunslingers

2009-02-09T21:31:00.000-08:00

So in order to get fired up I wanted to find some images on the web of motorcycles all geared up with fly rods and I just couldn't find any through a keyword search except for the Ironhorse Caddybag

This is certainly one way to do it that seems... pretty gall-darn sweet. But I don't think my travel budget will allow it. Plus, I think fabbing up custom ones for each bike will be a total pain/great fun project for the next few months.

Two Wheels And A Fly Rod

2009-02-09T21:03:00.000-08:00

It's started. "Possibly the best trip ever."
Currently: two bikes, both 1982 Honda CB650's. One Cafe, One Stock.
Destination: Scenic views of barren roads and supple rivers.
Hope: Two more motorbikes and a Tail Vehicle.